University Frolics

University frolics.

Nazgul.

1.

Mike Granger sighed heavily with relief, switched off the console in the
language laboratory, where he had been copying master tapes, went out into the
deserted corridor and lit a cigarette. Normally he finished well before 6, but
now it was past 10 and he was dog-tired. All that remained to do was to take the
tapes up to his office, lock up and go home.

At 28 he was a well-proportioned, good-looking man, living alone in an old
rented house some miles from the campus. An Arts major, he had remained in
France after his studies, drawn by the life-style and the high wages offered by
the University. In fact, life was fine, except for one thing: the students, and
more particularly the female students. OK, so being young; good-looking and
single made him the target for a never-ending series of young, amorous girls,
ready to use any and very ruse to get him to go out with them. Mike would have
been only too willing, but he knew very well that in this small, provincial
university town the slightest hint of scandal could lose him his job - already
several jealous colleagues had complained when he had been appointed.

"Oh well," thought Mike, "you can't have it both ways." He locked the laboratory
door and walked through silent, corridors, up a fight of stairs which lead
towards his office. Slung over his shoulder was the bag with his beloved Nikon
cameras and other photographic paraphernalia. He was a very keen - and good -
amateur photographer and it was rare that he went anywhere without them. Today,
he had been asked by the 3rd year students, who knew all about his talent in
that field, if he would take photos for their year book. He of course had
agreed.

 As he turned into the corridor in which his office was located, he saw that the
light was on in it. "Strange," he thought, "I surely didn't leave it on, because
it was daylight last time I was up here." Moving very quietly,, he approached
the high-set window in the corridor wall which gave onto his office, reached up
on tip-toes and carefully looked through it.

There, leaning over his desk and reading a document was a girl. Mike immediately
guessed what was happening. The University exams were coming up soon and since
he hated doing things at the last minute, he had already typed out the English
paper and then put it in the draw of his desk. That must be the document the
girl was reading. And, come to think of it, he had a feeling he knew who she
was. At that moment she turned her head slightly so that he got a slightly
better view of her face, and his suspicions were confirmed. Martine Lefevre! He
had every reason to know her, after the trouble she had caused him.

Martine Lefevre, the lithe, slim, big-breasted second-year student with the
long, blond hair, the beautiful girl with a mean streak who had tried to
blackmail him some eight months ago by threatening to accuse him of rape it he
didn't take her out. Fortunately, he had been able to avoid the trouble, but
ever since she had taken a delight in finding every possible opportunity, in
class and out, of making trouble for him. And here she was, stealing a look at
the exam paper.

Mike thought rapidly : if he denounced her, it was only his word against hers,
without proof, the case would be thrown out. Re-writing the exam paper was
really too much trouble. And then he had an idea. He took the Nikon he had been
using that afternoon for the sack, fitted an electronic flash, checked that
there was still some film left on the roll and, raising himself on tiptoe,
looked through the high window. The girl was now actually copying-out the paper.
Mike held the camera up to the window, got both student and desk in the frame,
and pressed the button. Set to auto, the camera whirred and the girl, alerted by
the flash and the sound, looked up.

Quickly, Mike opened the office door and entered the room, closing it behind
him. The girl looked at him, horrified. There was no getting away from it, she
really was something, if you excepted that sulky mouth. She was wearing a short,
pleated skirt and a tight-fitting sweater and he wondered idly what size cups
those firm, high-set breasts took.

She broke the silence. "Mr. Granger, I came by to see if you were in your
office, because I had something I wanted to ask you, " she said, trying to
brazen it out.

Mike wasn't taken in.  "At 10 at night?" he said. "And what is the English
paper, which was in the drawer of my desk, doing on top of it? You'll have to do
better than that, Martine."

She started to protest, but he held up the camera. "It's all in here, Martine,
including pictures of you copying the paper. You can argue until you are blue in
the face, but no-one's going to believe you when they see the photos."

"You wouldn't do that!" she gasped.

"Why ever not. You were cheating, and you deserve to be punished."

"But if you show that photo to the authorities, my whole career will be ruined.
You know that if I am thrown out for cheating, I shall; never be allowed into
another university in the country."

"You should have thought of that before you did it," said Mike, in an unkindly
tone.

"Oh please, please, Mr. Granger, don't tell on me," pleaded the girl, tears
starting in her eyes. Mike was tempted towards leniency, and then he though of
all the trouble she had caused him, and his heart hardened.

"You've been caught cheating, and it is my duty to bring the matter to the
attention of the Head of the Department. It is, after all, a serious matter," he
said.

By now the girl was looking really scared, and desperate. "Mr. Granger, please,
please don't do that. I'll do anything you want, anything, but please don't get
me thrown out!"

Mike, who, up to this point, had thought of nothing but having the matter dealt
with in the usual way, started to have the germ of an idea. She really did
deserve punishment, but maybe that could be arranged in such a way that her
university career was not ruined, whilst he could get his own back on this
little bitch who had caused him so much trouble.

"Sit down," he told her, and she sat on the chair in front of his desk. Standing
behind her, he put his hands on her shoulders. "Did you really mean it, Martine,
when you said that you would do anything to avoid being expelled from the
University?" he asked her.

She nodded. "Anything?", he asked again. "You know what that means, don't you?"
She turned her head towards him, and then blushed crimson as the implication of
his words, allied to the feel of his hands on her shoulders, got through to her.
She turned her head away and remained silent.

"OK, Martine, you can go now", said Mike. "I expect the Head of Department will
send for you some time tomorrow".

"No!", she gasped. "I'll do what you want!"

"Sure?" She nodded, helplessly.

"OK. Tomorrow is Saturday. The exams are in a month's time. I've come to the
conclusion that the best solution is for me to punish you myself. That way your
career won't be ruined, but you won't be getting away scot-free. Of course, your
punishment will take any form I see fit, and you will accept it. Agreed?" She
nodded again. "OK, then I will pick you up here, on the campus, outside the
Department, at 7 in the evening, three weeks from today That's the Easter
weekend, so we will have the Monday free as well. Make sure that you are free
for the whole weekend. And Martine, one word of any of this to anyone, and these
photos go straight to the University authorities. If you change your mind about
this in the meantime, let me know. Now you can go."

The girl rose and left the office. Alone again, Mike sat down and chuckled to
himself. This business was made to order: he was feeling randy, the girl was
guilty as hell, he had no compunction about what he was going to do and she
wouldn't say a word about it, for fear of getting the sack. All he had to do now
was plan the weekend, and that would be a pleasure!

Getting up, he tucked the offending exam paper into his briefcase - no point in
tempting Fate a second time - locked his office and started down the corridor.
As he did so, he had the impression that a door closed quietly behind him, but
when he turned around there was neither sound nor movement. Shaking his head, he
went on down the stairs, his thoughts on the coming weekend with Martine.

Back at the house, he made himself a quick meal, poured a drink and settled down
in an armchair, thinking about what he would do with the girl. One thing was for
sure, she was going to get punished, and she was going to have to accept
whatever he did to her, he'd make sure of that. He went into the other room,
switched on his computer, opened the Netscape connection and started logging on
to BDSM sites. He was sure to find some good ideas for dealing with her there!
After, he would take a look at one or two other sites, see what special
furniture and instruments he could cook up in the coming couple of weeks. It
looked like Martine was in for a long, hot weekend!

2
On the Friday night, all his preparations made, Mike drove in to the university,
parked his car and settled down to wait. Not for long, a few minutes later he
heard footsteps coming up behind the car. He looked in the rear-view mirror and
saw a figure coming towards him from behind. He made out long hair in the dim
light of the campus street lamps and knew it was Martine. He reached over and
opened the door on the passenger side. The girl got in. He started the engine
and pulled away, nice and slowly, tonight was not the time to get mixed up with
nosy cops.

It wasn't far to the house and as they approached it Martine saw that it stood
alone, surrounded by trees, about a mile from the main road.

Mike drove into the open garage, got out and shut the garage doors. When he
turned, the girl was standing silently by the car, biting her lip. Without a
word he took her by the arm and steered her towards the house.

Once inside he ushered her into the big front room. She stood there, motionless.
"I'll take your coat"' he said, holding out his hand. Almost as though in a dream
she unbuttoned the garment and gave it to him. Underneath she was wearing a
fuzzy, pink angora wool sweater at least one size too small for those big
breasts, and a mini-skirt that came down to the middle of her thighs. No
stockings. It was obvious that Martine thought she was in for a sexy weekend and
had decided that, since she couldn't avoid it, she would make the most of it.
She was in for a surprise.

"Would you like a drink", Mike asked and, without waiting for an answer, moved
over to the drinks cabinet and mixed two martinis, one of which he handed to
her. She took it and sipped slowly, her eyes roaming round the room - not that
there was anything special to see, it was a very ordinary sort of room.

"It's quite hot in here", said Mike, "why don't you take off your sweater."

She hadn't been expecting such a brutal start to things, especially after being
offered a drink, but it seemed she had no choice. Putting her glass down on a
coaster on the small table, she pulled the sweater over her head and threw it
onto the armchair. This last movement turned her back towards him and he was
rewarded with the sight of broad, tanned shoulders tapering down to a tiny
waist, the expanse of naked flesh criss-crossed by the straps of a white bra.
Mike felt his prick starting to rise, this was going to be some weekend!

"Now the shoes", he said, and she stepped out of the high-heeled sandals she was
wearing.

"The skirt", Mike said, hoarsely, his prick pushing hard at his pants.

Her hands went to the waistband and he heard the "Hsss" of the zip as she pulled
it down. The skirt dropped in a rumpled circle round her ankles, and he was free
to gaze at a long pair of slim, brown legs, ending in tiny, lace-edged white
pants that hugged a gloriously rounded pair of ass-cheeks. By now his prick was
absolutely rigid and he knew that he would need quite a lot of self-control if
he was going to carry through the program he had planned for the weekend. This
one was just crying out to be fucked, but if he did it now, as he wanted to, it
would spoil everything.

"Turn round," he said "and put your hands behind your back."  She did so, and
taking a length of soft cord from his pocket, Mike swiftly twisted it three
times round her wrists, pulled it tight and neatly cinched it.

At first Martine didn't seem to realise what he had just done to her, but when
realisation did come, she whirled around, face crimson, screaming "Let me go!
Untie me at once, you filthy beast, I didn't agree to anything like this! Untie
me!"

"No way sweetheart", thought Mike, grabbing a handful of hair and pulling her
head right back, so that her mouth came wide open. Into this he forced a
ball-gag that he had ready in his left hand. As she came upright, choking on the
ball, he lifted the long hair and buckled the black strap firmly at the back of
her neck, then let her go.

She stood, there, face still bright red, coughing and spluttering around the
ball, trying to breathe properly, tugging madly at the cord around her wrists.

"If I were you, Martine," he said, "I'd save my strength for more important
things. I am not going to untie you, and you are going to stay gagged, so you
might as well get used to it."

She stopped trying to free her wrists and concentrated instead on not choking.
Her mouth was wedged wide open by the hard rubber ball, which effectively
stopped her from making anything but mewling sounds when she tried to speak. She
began to realise that she was in trouble, that this was not the cosy, sexy
weekend that she had expected. Instead, she was tied up, vulnerable, no-one knew
where she was, and she had no idea what Mike had in store for her, but if the
beginning was anything to go on, it was nothing good.

Mike decided that it was time to take her upstairs to the attic, to the special
room he had spent the last three weeks preparing and equipping just for her.
Trouble was, she wouldn't walk up those stairs willingly. So, he grabbed a
handful of hair on the crown of her head, pulled it down to waist level, so that
she was bent right over, and then pulled. She tried to resist, but the pain in
her scalp was atrocious, and she was forced to follow him. He led her down the
short corridor and up the first flight of stairs, then the second, until they
came to a plain door at the top of the house. Opening this, Mike dragged her
inside and let go of her hair.

Straightening up, blinking away the tears that had formed in her eyes from the
pain of having her hair pulled, she looked around her.

The room, which was high in the middle, had a sloping ceiling on three sides.
Heavy wooden beams indicated that they were up in the roof space of the house.
The walls were white and in the corners of the room there were lamps which gave
out a soft, red light, giving the room a strange feeling. She shivered. The
walls were decorated with instruments of various sorts, some made of wood, other
of shiny metal. Ropes and pulleys hung from hooks in the beams and from heavy
wooden battens screwed to the walls. A small table held what looked to be
electrical equipment and in the middle of the room there was a low dais with
metal rods sticking up from it in a pattern that made no sense to her, but which
seemed to be vaguely menacing. The whole room seemed to threaten her and she
took an involuntary step backwards, only to come up against Mike, who was
standing right behind her. She felt her ass-cheeks press against his rock-hard
prick, as his hands came up to hold her by the upper arms.

He pushed her across the room and turned her so that her back was pressed to the
wall. At either side of her neck there were metal studs, from one of which
dangled a leather strap. This he pulled across her throat and hooked it onto the
other stud and then stood back. Martine was held firmly against the wall by the
strap.

Mike crossed to the door. "Take a good look around, Martine, " said, "Try to
guess what all these things are for. It'll give you something to do while I go
and change into something more comfortable." And with that he left the room,
closing the door behind him.

Martine looked around the room. What was that thing like an elongated tennis bat
with holes in it for? And surely that thing, hanging on the wall, was a whip!
Over there were handcuffs, and that very solid-looking wooden armchair with
straps riveted to the back, arms and legs was a...""Oh my God," she thought,
"This is a torture chamber!" As the realisation burst over her, the first
reaction was to try to scream for help, but the ball-gag effectively stifled any
sounds she tried to make. Then she tried to get away from the wall, but only
succeeded in nearly strangling herself on the strap. She stood still and tried
to think coherently, but it was impossible, she was too terrorised to have a
single rational thought. All she wanted was to get out of there, but there was
no escape! She could feel clammy fear-sweating running down her sides from her
armpits and she started trembling. She was in trouble.

At this point, the lamps started to dim, went right out and left her standing in
complete darkness. Then they flashed back up to full brightness and there,
standing in front of her, was a man. He was naked, except for a thin leather
string round his waist holding up an incredibly thin leather pouch through which
the outlines of his balls and a very large prick were all to evident. On his
feet were lace-up sandals, he had leather bands round his wrists and biceps, and
his face was covered by what looked like a medieval executioner's hood.
Terrified, she tried again so scream, and again she failed.

Mike - for it was Mike behind the mask - grinned to himself. Mental torture is
often as good as the physical kind, and it was obvious that the girl was very,
very frightened, which was just great, now he could get down to the physical
stuff.

Once again grabbing her by the hair, he undid the strap and pulled her over to
the dais, which he forced her to mount. Here, he pushed her head down so that
her neck went into a half-circle of rubber-lined metal on the top of a short
metal rod let into the wood of the platform. A strap round the back of her neck,
and she was secured. On either side of her waist there were vertical rods and to
these Mike fixed a horizontal one, pulling it up the rods so that it came up
against her belly. Then he pushed it back so that it was forced against the tops
of her thighs. Next came straps round her ankles, attached to short cords. These
he used to pull her feet wide apart, fixing the cords to hooks screwed into the
platform. Straps round her knees were pulled towards the upright steel rods by
more cords, so that her thighs were spread widely, lewdly. She tried to
struggle, but found that she was incapable of any movement. In particular, her
hips were totally frozen by the angle of her knees, she couldn't even wiggle her
ass!

Suddenly she felt him fumbling with the cord that tied her wrists and hope
swelled up, but it was short-lived. He pulled her right hand down and tied it to
the vertical post the top of which imprisoned her neck. True, her left hand was
free, but there was just nothing she could do, and then he grabbed that and tied
it to the post, too.

Mike stepped back and had a look at her. Her body was stretched out, parallel to
the floor, her heavy breasts hanging down in their thin covering. Her legs were
upright and spread wide, wide apart. The only thing between him and her cunt was
the flimsy pair of white pants, and Mike figured that situation wouldn't last
long.

Moving to a small table near the wall, he picked up a jug containing water in
which were floating a number of ice cubes. The jug also contained a pair of
long-bladed dressmaker's shears, which he took in his right hand. First, he held
the shears low down, under the girl's face, so that she could see them. The
sight of those evil-looking blades sent her into a new paroxysm of fear; what
was he going to do to her? She struggled against her restraints, knowing that it
would do no good.

Carefully, he inserted one of the blades under the waistband of her pants. She
could feel the ice-cold metal along her spine, but had no idea what he was going
to do.

Slowly, Make pressed the blade into the crack of her ass-cheeks, until she felt
it touch her asshole. She screamed through the gag. Mike closed the shears, the
blades hissing through the thin fabric of her pants. Then he took the shears
away and replaced them in the jug of iced water, waiting a few minutes until the
blades were again quite cold. He again slid a blade under her pans, this time
pressing it firmly in between the lips of her cunt. She went perfectly still;
stiller than she had ever been in her life, and sweat broke out all over her.
One false move and one of the most precious and irreplaceable parts of her body
might slip between those wicked blades, to be shorn off for ever! She heard the
hiss of the shears as the blades began to close, and she was so frightened she
didn't even dare to scream.

Finally there was a slight "Click", the hissing noise stopped and the cut was
finished. She slumped, suddenly boneless, in her bonds, relief flooding through
her - he hadn't cut her. Tears came to her eyes, she was intact. Little did she
care that her pants had been reduced to two elasticised circles, one round each
thigh, and that her puckered asshole and cunt were exposed to full view.

To Mike's view; and the sight was almost too much for him, he desperately wanted
to ram his cock up one or the other of those holes, but not yet. First this
little bitch was going to suffer!

He picked up three instruments and laid them at the foot of the upright rod,
under Martine's face. She looked at them. There was a thin, whippy cane, a
stiff-bristled hairbrush and the elongated bat with the holes in it that she had
noticed earlier.

"Martine, I am going to beat your ass. The choice of which one of those three
instruments I do it with is up to you. I am going downstairs for a drink. While
I am gone, make your choice. When I come back, you will indicate, by lifting
one, two or three fingers, counting from the right, to show which one you have
chosen. If you refuse to choose, I shall beat you with all three of them." So
saying, he left the room.

Martine stared at the three instruments. Which one would hurt the least? The
cane was thin and would probably cut her ass-cheeks, so that was out. But what
about the other two? The hairbrush shouldn't be too bad, if he beat her with the
back of it, but if he used the bristle side, it could be pretty bad. The bat, on
the other hand, seemed perfectly innocuous. And it was then that she realised
just how devilishly clever Mike had been. He was forcing her to imagine the
beating before it even began! In her mind she was already trying to feel the
blows!

Her thoughts went back and forth, the brush or the bat? Each time she thought
she had made up her mind, her imagination started up again.

Finally Mike returned to the torture chamber and stood beside her. "Well, which
one is it to be?" he asked. In desperation Martine stuck out three fingers,
indicating the bat, hoping like mad that she had not made a mistake. Mike
grinned under the mask, the bitch was in for a surprise.

Before starting on the beating, Mike picked up a tiny pair of earplugs from the
table and stuffed them into the girl's ears. Next he pulled a bag made of thick,
black material over her head and pulled the drawstring fairly tight round her
neck. Martine found herself in a world of her own, she couldn't move and now she
couldn't hear nor see either. The idea was to prevent her from hearing the noise
as the bat whistled through the air, or seeing it. In this way she would not be
able to clench the muscles in her ass to resist the pain of the blows. At the
same time, it augmented the mental torture, since she was confined to a dark,
soundless world, in which fear and anticipation quickly became the dominating
emotions.

Picking up the paddle, Mike took aim at those lovely ass-cheeks and let fly. The
impact of the paddle dented the resilient flesh, which immediately sprung back
into shape. To the girl, the blow was painful, but only moderately so, dull
rather than sharp pain, heavy, and she started to congratulate herself on her
choice of instrument. This was not going to be so bad after all.

Mike's arm drew back and then whipped forward for the second stroke. She grunted
and lurched forward, her breasts swaying beneath her. This time the pain was
greater, seemingly spreading over the whole area of her ass. Maybe she had
chosen wrongly after all.

The third stroke, when it landed, sent pain messages scurrying through her
entire pelvic region, and she gasped. This was no joke, it HURT! She clenched
her ass, stiffening the muscles in preparation for the next blow.

Mike saw this muscle movement and chuckled to himself. This was exactly the
reason for the earplugs and bag. He knew she would clench like this, but she
couldn't hold it, and she had no visual or audio signal of when the next stroke
was due to land on her ass. He waited until her muscles relaxed, and struck,
hard! She yelled around the gag, the pain blasting though her. If it was this
bad after four, what was it going to be like after twenty? And how many was he
going to give her anyway?

Martine clenched up, and decided to stay that way. OK, so she was wasting
energy, but better that than the terrible pain of the landing paddle. She lasted
all of two minutes before she relaxed, and immediately clenched up again. Mike
watched, and waited. Finally, detecting the beginning of relaxation, he struck,
not once but twice. This time she didn't even scream, because the double blast
of pain blew all the breath out of her lungs. God it hurt! She tried to plead
for mercy, but all that came out of the black bag were little mewling sounds,
which Mike ignored.

"Thwaaack!" The paddle landed again, creating a blaze of pure pain. It was as
though every nerve-ending in her ass has been set on fire, the pain spreading
from the surface of her flesh deep down inside her. She couldn't take much more
of this inhuman treatment, she felt she would...Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! As her muscles
slackened, the paddle bit again, the pain running up her spine to explode in her
head. Never, in her whole life, had she imagined that such pain could even
exist, never mind happen to her. But it was happening, and it felt like it was
killing her.

Suddenly, in an explosion of energy born of desperation, she struggled to get
free, the metal rods rocking , but it was no good, she was too tightly fastened
down, and as her struggles subsided he hit her again, full across both cheeks.
The pain was indescribable, and with each stoke it got worse.

Mike went on to give her thirty cracking blows across her ass, slowly,
deliberately, timing each one carefully. Her ass grew progressively pinker and
pinker. He regretted the necessity of gagging her, because he would have dearly
loved to hear her screaming, but she would have made so much noise it would have
been too risky not to have done so. Maybe he would use the ring-gag later on,
see what that sounded like.

After the last stoke Mike quietly laid the paddle down and crept noiselessly out
of the room. Martine continued to clench the muscles of her ass for a good five
minutes before she realised that it was over - for the moment at least. When she
did so, she slumped lifelessly against her restraints and gave way to floods of
tears. Her ass was a sea of pain and fire, and it was obvious that he hadn't
finished with her. What would he do next.

3.

In fact, Mike left her there for a good thirty minutes before he came back
carrying two big photo-floods on tripods and his Nikon camera. He positioned the
floods, switched them on and armed his camera. Finally he went to the girl and
pulled the black bag off her head and the plugs from her ears. She blinked,
half-blinded by the harsh light and the tears in her eyes. When she could at
last see clearly, she saw Mike in front of her, the camera pointing straight at
her. She immediately ducked her head, she wasn't going to let him take pictures
of her in this disgusting position! Mike thought otherwise. He took a piece of
rough twine and tied it to a lock of hair in the top of her head. This he ran
down her back and in between her pussy lips, so that it lay alongside her
clitoris. He lifted her head, pulled the twine tight and tied the end to the
foot at the rod that held her neck. Now, if she tried to duck her head, the
twine would cut into her cunt, not to mention trying to pull out the lock of
hair. She couldn't even turn her head away.

Mike took a number of shots, being careful to frame her tear-stained face and
her half-exposed breasts hanging down like a cow's udders. Then, untying the
twine, he retied it directly to the base of the rod so that her head was held
down. He walked round behind her, crouched down and aimed the camera between her
outstretched legs. In the viewfinder he saw her face, framed by her thighs and
surmounted by her gaping cunt and ass-hole. He racked off several shots of this.

"In case you're wondering why the photos, Martine, they are my insurance. I'm
sure that you wouldn't like your friends and family to receive copies, would
you. Not to mention having them on the Net, with your name and address attached,
for all to see. Well that's just what will happen if you even think of going to
the police after the weekend is over."

Martine groaned softly. The swine! It was the one thing that was keeping her
going, the idea of denouncing him to the police and seeing him get a long jail
sentence. Now even that was out of her reach, because she certainly couldn't
afford to have those photos shown to anyone.

"Right, having attended to one end of you, it's time we paid some attention to
those magnificent tits of yours." So saying, he undid her right hand and bent
her elbow so that her wrist was alongside her upper arm, near her shoulder. He
tied the cord round her arm, so that her wrist was pulled in tight against her
arm and she couldn't move her hand away from it. Having done the same with her
left hand, he undid the neck strap and pulled her upright. Then he picked up a 
seven foot long steel post with two cross-bars welded to it and dropped it into
a hole in the floor of the platform, so that it was immediately behind her.
Behind and close, so close in fact that the crack of her ass was pressed firmly
against it.

This rod had another half-circle of metal, and he pulled her back so that her
neck settled into it, to be strapped in place once more. He attached her hands
to the upper cross-bar and her elbows to the lower one with leather straps, and
then stood back to inspect her. She was a sight for sore eyes. Her legs were
still obscenely straddled, knees bent slightly forward, hips blocked. And now
her upper torso was also firmly held, so that she couldn't move, or even twist,
since the upright was pegged in its slot.

Picking up the shears again, he slid the tip of one blade under a shoulder-strap
and cut. The weight of her breast caused the cup to fall, exposing her
completely. He did the same on the other side, and only then did he take a good
look at her. She had the most gorgeous pair of tits he had ever seen, wide- and
high-set, full, the aureole dark, the size of a silver dollar, the nipples
fairly prominent. Finally he slid the blade of the shears down between her tits,
under the main strap and cut it through.

He put down the shears and lifted his hands towards them. She shrank back
against the post. Slowly, using his finger-tips, he traced the curves of her
breasts and then, after sucking each index finger, he started to run them round
and round her nipples. The cooling effect caused the usual inevitable reaction,
her nipples started to swell and jut out. She was horrified, her face went
crimson at this betrayal by her body, but there was nothing she could do about
it. She tried to squirm away from his touch, but found that she was tied in such
a way that she couldn't move her tits the merest fraction of an inch.

"You see, sweetheart, you're hot for it," Mike said, mockingly. She shook her
head frantically, but it was no good, her tits were now crowned by two jutting,
pulsating nipples over which she had not control. Then to her horror, he took
each nipple between the knuckles of his first and second fingers and squeezed.
She stiffened with the shock of the pain that ripped through her breasts. She
would never have believed that such a tiny, insignificant-looking movement could
have such a devastating effect, could cause so much agony. Again she screamed
around the gag, still to no effect. He released her nipples, but the pain
remained, dying away only slowly.

Moving round behind the immobile body, Mike pulled on a pair of thin surgical
gloves and, from the table, picked up a big tube marked "Deep Heat". This was a
pain-relief unguent for rheumatism, but he knew it could be used to other ends.
He reached round her and showed her the tube. Then his hands still in front of
her where she could see them, he took the cap  off the tube and squeezed a very
generous portion of the contents into the palm of his left hand. Putting down
the tube, he rubbed the palms of his gloved hands together, so that the unguent
was spread all over them.

This was one of the bits he had been looking forward to. Slowly he grasped a
breast in each hand and started to massage it. The unguent acted like massage
cream, letting the firm flesh slide easily beneath his palms and fingers. It
felt wonderful. Martine herself was not displeased, though she couldn't think
why on earth he was doing this to her. She had very sensitive breasts and often,
in bed, she would massage them herself. The movements of his hands, firm but
gentle, were soothing, and she wondered where the catch was. She was not left to
wonder for long.

After about five minutes all traces of the unguent had disappeared, so Mike
stepped back, pulled off the gloves, released her neck, hands and elbows, pulled
the steel upright out of its hole and laid it down on the platform. Then he
stepped down, picked up a camcorder from the table and moved round in front of
Martine. She stood there, legs still held immovably wide apart, not moving.

In fact, Martine was puzzled. She couldn't see the point of what had just
happened! She looked down at her breasts. They looked exactly the same as they
always had, a pleasant, warm glow from the massage pervading them, the nipples
still aching dully. The glow grew, and doubt crept into her mind. What was that
unguent? The glow became heat. Her breasts glistened, but did not change colour.
Now they were quite hot. She swung her upper body to create cooling air across
them, and as she did so the fluids in her breasts moved, causing the flesh to
ripple in a most turgid manner. The heat swiftly became almost unbearable and
she twisted frantically, trying to cool the two globes of fire attached to her
chest. She screamed soundlessly, shaking her torso like a go-go dancer, her full
breasts bouncing up and down and from side to side.

Mike had a cock as stiff as a tree-trunk, and he was itching to use it. The
sight of her tits was almost too much for him, but he was determined to continue
the punishment before taking her.

Martine tried desperately to reach her breasts with her hands, but they were
tied too tightly to her upper arms. Had she been able to reach her breasts, she
would probably have torn them off in her attempts to stop the terrible pain. She
screamed and scream, lunging her body laviciously in all directions, to the
delight of Mike, who was busy filming the scene. So great was the pain, and her
distress, that she did not even realise that he was filming her.

Slowly, so slowly, the pain softened and died away and when she looked down, her
breasts appeared to her as they had always done, white, smooth, luscious,
apparently untouched by the effects of the unguent. Ready, thought, Mike, for
the next round, but he didn't say so out loud. She would find out all in good
time. He put down the camera and left the room, in search of another drink. All
this torture was thirsty work!

Left on her own, Martine cried bitterly. She knew now that she was going to be
hurt right through the rest of the weekend and that there was no escape.

4.

Having finished his drink, Mike decided it was time to go back upstairs to
Martine. The sight of her, as he opened the door, was quite something: legs wide
apart, her knees slightly bent, wrists securely fastened to her upper arms, near
the shoulders, the red ball-gag on its black strap highlighting her face, her
heavy tits slightly uplifted by the position of her arms, she really was a
turn-on and his prick, which had somewhat dozed off under the effects of the
alcohol, immediately jumped to attention. He felt a really strong desire to
shaft her as she stood, but once again he told himself that if he did so, the
weekend would come to a climax too quickly.

Instead, he decided that the time had come for a bit of humiliation. Going
behind her, he picked up the upright with the two cross-arms and the metal
half-circle and put it back into its slot in the flooring. Next he grabbed a
handful of hair and pulled her neck into the metal curve, fastening it in place
with the wide leather strap around her throat. A piece of twine was then tied to
a lock of hair on the top of her head, the other end being tied to the vertical
bar, which was somewhat taller than the girl. Thus attached, she could only look
straight ahead. A thin cord coming from a ceiling hook screwed securely into the
big oak beam overhead was tied to the wristband around her left wrist, the
fastening attaching it to her upper arm released and her hand drawn up into the
air, off to her side. He then did exactly the same thing with her right arm and
there she was, spread out in a large X, head held high, her body widely
available.

Mike moved to a little table and picked up an instrument, which he held up n
front of the girl's face. Martine tried to scream, overtaken by a feeling of
sheer terror. The instrument was a shiny, cutthroat razor with an ivory handle.
As he twisted it in front of her the lights sparkled on the gleaming blade. To
Martine it was an instrument from hell, the proof that she had been crazy to
agree to Mike's idea of punishment. What was he going to do with that
evil-looking blade? She had no clear ideas, but she knew that she was really in
trouble.

Mike grinned to himself behind the mask, guessing what the girl was thinking.
After a minute of so, he said, "Martine, you have the most beautiful body, but
to my mind it is spoilt by the unsightly collection of hair between your thighs
and in your armpits, and I intend to do something about that right now," and he
waved the razor in front of her face again. Her first reaction was one of
relief, immediately followed by a gnawing question; was he capable of using that
deadly blade on her tender body without cutting her? She would soon find out.

Placing the razor back on the little table Mike picked up a cordless beard
trimmer, showed it to her, switched it on and set to work on her left armpit.
The machine made short work of the hair and he moved to the other one, and then
down between her legs. Here, he was careful to press the buzzing machine tightly
against her pubis, so that she could feel the vibration. She flinched as she
felt the hungry, scything teeth pass over her cunt-lips.

Next, he squirted shaving soap between her legs, rubbing it into her skin with
his fingers, massaging, rubbing, sliding his fingers perilously close to that
secret opening, moving towards it and then drawing away at the last instant,
teasing, frightening. After several minutes of this, she was not sure whether
she wanted him to stop, or to plunge his fingers into her. She was fairly sure
that her cunt was wet, hoped he wouldn't notice it.

Picking up a small towel, he dried his fingers, took the razor from the table
and waved it in front of her face again. "I've never used one of these before, "
he said, "I suppose I'll pick it up as I go along". Martine nearly fainted. She
had read lurid accounts of female circumcision in African countries and she felt
sure that something similar was going to happen to her. Mike crouched down, out
of her range of vision, placed the cutthroat on the floor between her legs,
picked up the plastic safety razor that he had deliberately dropped there.
Placing his left hand on her soft belly, he pulled the skin tight over her
pubis. "Now keep still, Martine, 'cos if you move this blade might get somewhere
it shouldn't."

There was no danger of her moving; the girl was totally paralysed with fear. She
sucked in a great breath and held it, waiting for the first touch of steel on
her tender and unprotected body. When the razor did finally touch her, she went
rigid. The blade slid smoothly down over her pubis, towards her pussy lips, and
as it did so she screamed silently inside her head. The movement was slow -
deliberately slow - going closer and closer to that delicate spot, the seat of
her sexual existence. Please God, don't let his hand slip, she prayed to
herself.

The stroke came to an end, without cutting her, and another one started. She
experienced the same feeling of terror, especially when the stroke went down
across her pussy-lip and almost up into the cleft between the cheeks of her ass.
It was even worse when she felt Mike's fingers pull her pussy-lips apart so that
he could shave their inner edges, when she felt the blade sweep across them, so
horribly close to her clitoris. The slightest movement and she would be the
female equivalent of a eunuch, she thought crazily to herself.

When her cunt was immaculately hairless, Mike straightened up and shaved her
armpits. At no time did she realise that he was not using the cutthroat razor.
When he had finished, and wiped her dry with the towel, she was overcome with a
fit of trembling. It was over, and she was intact. Thank God!

Mike stepped back and admired his handiwork. Her armpits were smooth, and
between her thighs the lips of her cunt, prettily pink, showed up well against
her pale skin. Much better than being hidden by that fleece of black hair, he
thought, at least now I can see where we are going. The thought made his prick
go even harder. He stretched out his hand and slid the tips of his fingers
around her cunt; the skin was beautifully smooth. As he caressed her, he saw
that the lips were glistening and he realised that she was sexually aroused.
"Little cow!" he thought, "And here was I thinking that she's frightened out of
her mind!" He was both right and wrong. Her body was aroused despite herself,
but she was also frightened, and the mixture of the two emotions was terribly
confusing to her young mind. On the whole, though, the feeling was one of
relief.

Mike could see that she had calmed down, so he decided it was time to do
something more rugged, bring her back to the realisation that she was being
punished. Untying her hair from the steel post, he bent down again, spread open
the lips of her cunt and started to massage her clitoris. The effect was
immediate; she felt an indescribable feeling starting to spread between her legs
and up through her belly, warm, diffuse, comforting. Her clitoris swelled up,
turning carmine, and he swore he could feel it throbbing between his fingers. He
held it at the base, between finger and thumb, sliding his fingers down towards
the tip, almost as though he were milking it. She forgot the terror of the past
few moments, her thoughts were hazy, she felt as though she were floating on a
cloud, the soothing feel of his fingers pervading her entire being.

When he judged that her clitoris had swollen to its maximum and that she had
been lulled into unawareness, Mike picked up a small, sharp-jawed spring-clamp
and held it over her organ, the long jaws on each side of it. Then he released
the clamp, letting the sharp teeth bite deeply into the sensitive - and
sensitised - clitoris.

The result was electric; the scream that burbled around the ball in her mouth
would have been clearly audible downstairs, had there been anyone there to hear
it! Where, a split second ago there had been pleasure, now there was pain, pain
scalding up into her belly, pain screaming between her thighs, pain tearing at
the very fabric of her sanity; unbearable pain, but she had to bear it, all her
twisting and turning and shaking failed to relieve her of it, it clung to her,
it was part of her. Her hips plunged back and forth, within the limits of their
constraints, in a lewd action that reminded Mike of those a woman normally makes
when she is making love, but here Martine was vainly trying to shake off the
clamp. To no avail; the tiny teeth, forced by the spring into the gorged flesh,
sent waves of pain shrieking up nerve paths to her head, where they exploded
like fireworks, searing balls of bright pain. Tiny drops of blood oozed out
between the teeth, and the pain went on and on.

Mike watched, fascinated, as the girl went into a paroxysm of struggles in her
attempts to relieve herself both of the clamp and of the pain. He wondered
whether the steel post was strong enough to hold her. But slowly, slowly, as her
body became accustomed to the assault, she calmed, she settled down, the
presence of the continuing pain betrayed solely by the odd twitch and her
staring eyes, eyes that saw only a haze of red, darkening towards black. The
pain was still there, but now it was almost - almost! - bearable. She didn't
quite black out, but it was a near thing.

Then, through the red pain-haze, she became aware that Mike was dangling
something before her eyes. When she finally focused, she saw that it was a
short, fairly thick piece of chain, with a hook at one end and a large weight at
the other. "Know what this is for? he asked her. "It's to hook on to that clamp
on your clit." She shook her head wildly - God, what was he trying to do, tear
it out by the roots! She tried again to beg for mercy, but the few sounds she
managed to make were unintelligible.

He bent down, slipped the hook through the loop on the clamp and let it take all
the weight. "Aieeeeeeeeeeeeh!!!" she screamed around the gag, as the pain came
flooding back like a dam bursting. "Noooooooooooo!!! Pleeeeeeeeeese stop!!!" It
did indeed feel as though her clitoris was being pulled out by the roots, plus
the burning of the clamp teeth as they scored the tender flesh. Pure agony,
multiplied many times as Mike set the heavy weight swinging. It was more than
she could take and she soon slumped in her bonds, unconscious.

Seeing this, Mike unhooked the weight and took the clamp off her clitoris. He
could always start again, he thought, looking at the flecks of blood on the
teeth. Better clean it up before he did so.

While the girl was still out he freed her from her bonds, picked her up and
carried her across the heavy wooden chair she had seen when she first looked
round the room. Sitting her in it, he strapped her in tight: shoulders, elbows,
wrists, waist, knees and ankles, with her legs once more wide apart. He pulled
her head back so that it rested on a wooden headrest fixed to the back of the
chair and held it in place with a strap round her forehead. Then he slapped her
face several times to bring her round.

Martine came to, sitting in the chair, her head uncomfortably bent over
backwards, with Mike looking down at her.

"Bedtime, sweetheart" he said gaily. "Time for your sleeping pill. Only trouble
is, I have to persuade you to swallow it. No problem, we'll use the old
force-feeding routine."

Going over to the table, he picked up a shiny metal object and came back to
stand beside her. "This is a modification of an instrument dentists use to keep
patients' mouths open, " he said. "This little clamp fits over the teeth in your
upper jaw, and this one over the teeth in your lower jaw. These two threaded
rods here, when I turn them, force the jaws apart. You can't get rid of the
clamp if it is opened wide enough, 'cos you can't open your jaws any further."

So saying, he fit the clamp into her mouth and started to open it, turning one
rod a few turns at a time, then the other one. Soon her jaws were stretched wide
open. Unbuckling the strap round her neck, he took out the ball gag. The result
was a wide-open mouth, available for anything he wanted to put into it. From the
table he now took a yard-long metal tube, about an inch and a half in diameter,
and a tube of Vaseline. He squeezed some onto the tube and then started to rub
it all over the tube.

"Tell me, Martine, " he said, "have you ever seen a sword swallower? Why do you
think they always tilt their head back before swallowing the sword? So that the
rigid blade has a straight passage down through their throat and on into their
stomach. Just as you are at this moment. We can pretend that this tube is the
sword," and he grinned wickedly behind the mask. "I'm told that it is a very
unpleasant experience if you've never done it before." And so saying, he
introduced the end of the tube into the girl's gaping mouth. Carefully, slowly,
he let the tube sink down into her throat. The feeling was indeed horrible, she
wanted to choke, and couldn't. She had trouble breathing, it was awful. Slowly
the tube went lower and lower, until it stopped, the end of it resting on the
pit of her stomach.

"Here's where you learn some self-control," said Mike. "I am going to unstrap
your forehead. You will have to keep your head back all by yourself, even if it
does hurt your neck. If you don't..." He didn't finish the sentence, but rather
unbuckled the strap holding her head. Her immediate reaction has to straighten
up, in order to take the strain off her neck. Of course, as she did so the tube
in her throat hurt her. She was forced to bend her head back to place it on the
headrest, only to find that the latter had gone, taken off by Mike She felt
terrified, helpless, it was as though she had lost all control of her life - as
indeed she had, temporarily. Her head was bent back, neck aching, throat
hurting.

"Well," said Mike, I think I'll wander downstairs and get you something to wash
the sleeping pill down. Don't want you wandering around the house all on your
own while I'm asleep, do we? Don't go away now!", and chuckling he left the
room.

Left alone once more, neck and throat aching, clitoris throbbing painfully,
Martine wondered what Mike would do next. A sleeping pill? It sounded ominous.
It was obvious that he was taking a lot of pleasure in hurting her, and also
that he wasn't ready to stop any time soon. Why couldn't he just rape her, in
the usual manner. Not, mind you, that it would really be rape, if she wanted it,
would it? She wished, for the fiftieth time, that she had never gone into his
office!

When Mike came back he was carrying a big jug of ice water with tiny bits of
crushed ice floating around in it, a funnel and a little cardboard box. Opening
the box, he showed her the contents, nine little pills. "Three for each night,"
he said. "They're a present from a chemist friend, guaranteed to keep you out
for eight hours. We'll wash them down with a couple or three pints of ice water,
that should give you a nice little stomach cramp to occupy you while you're
dropping off."

He fitted the funnel into the end of the tube, slipped in the three pills and
then started carefully pouring the water into it. It took some time to empty the
big jug, and when he had finished she felt the beginning of cramps, together
with a bloated feeling.

"There we are, he said, "all ready for bye-byes. I've fixed you up a
steel-framed bed in the alcove next door, but don't worry, we've still got
another three days to play games."

He undid all the straps holding her in the chair, but Martine gripped the arms
with her hands, desperately. She was terribly afraid that if she moved she would
hurt herself again. Mike grabbed a lock of hair and pulled, forcing her to her
feet. She put her hands round her throat, as if to protect it. He forced her to
walk towards another door, half-hidden in the corner. She thought she could feel
the ice-water sloshing around inside her and the cramps in her stomach were
being to fell really unpleasant. On the other side of the door there was a small
alcove, with a steel-framed bed and a mattress. He pushed her down until she was
sitting on the edge of the bed. "Put your hands behind you," he ordered her.
When she didn't obey, still wanting to protect her throat, he again seized a
nipple and started squeezing. Quickly she put her hands behind her back. "That's
better," he said, and started to pull the tube out of her throat. The feeling
was worse, if that were possible, that when he had put it in.

When he had finished he made her lie down and chained one wrist to the head of
the bed, one ankle to the foot of it and finished by throwing a rough blanket
over her. Then he sat on the edge of the bed and waited for the pills to take
effect, which they did quite quickly. When he was sure she was fast asleep, he
extracted the clamp from her mouth and put a piece of duct tape over it.
Finally, leaving the alcove he shut and locked the door. It was late, he was
tired, he needed to beat his meat, tomorrow was another day, another day of fun
and games with Martine, only this time it was going to get rougher, and he was
really looking forward to that!

Chpt 5.

As the sound of Mike's footsteps receded down the corridor, Angelique leant back
against the door of her office and heaved a long sigh of relief. That had been a
near thing! She hadn't been expecting him to leave his office so quickly, and
then she had not closed the door to her own office as quietly as she might have.
It had seemed for a moment that he had heard something, the way he had turned
his head. Oh, well, all's well that ends well, she thought to herself, hugging
to her chest the tiny tape-recorder with its highly-sensitive microphone that
she had used to eavesdrop on the goings-on in Mike's office so late in the
evening. What on earth was he up to?

With the recorder and its precious tape safely tucked into her shoulder-bag she
put on her coat, turned out the light, locked the door and set off down the
corridor. Down the stairs, through the deserted hall and out into the ill-lit
campus. She shivered. She hated it when she had to leave the university in the
dark, she was scared to death that someone might try to rape her. Goodness only
knew there were enough dark nooks and crannies between the buildings where a
determined rapist could have his way with her, with no risk of being seen.

She knew, too, that there were probably more than a few students around who
would like to rape her. For two reasons. The first was that she was very
good-looking; long, raven-black hair cascading down to her shoulders, trained to
cover the left-hand side of her face. Big, dark-brown eyes that never seemed to
look straight at you, as though she was unaware that you were there, even when
she was speaking to you. And a body guaranteed to attract attention of the most
misogynous and myopic elderly professor, with its high-perched, full breasts,
that tiny waist and those long legs that seemed to go on forever.

But despite her physical qualities, she was unpopular with the students.
Lecturer in communication, she had the gift of reducing practically any student
almost to tears with her cutting and sarcastic comments on performance,
delivered in a beautifully modulated contralto voice. Particularly male
students. Not, mind you, that there weren't a few female students around who
would have taken a sadistic pleasure in doing her over with a pair of
nail-scissors!

Normally she didn't worry about such things but here, with the towering
buildings on every side, wrapped in the deep gloom; she felt vulnerable. Not
that she regretted the way she treated the students; after all, that was what
they were there for. Most of them she despised, they were crass, stupid, noisy,
insolent - the list of their defects was a long one. Above all, it was their
fault that she was still only a lecturer and not a full professor. Had it not
been for the Students' Union accusing her of prejudice, she would have been
appointed Professor at least two years ago and would by now be teaching in Paris
and not in this backward provincial town.

"Oh yes," she thought to herself as she unlocked her car and got into it,
already feeling much safer, "Oh yes, there's not a lot that can be said for most
students, but there are one or two I quite like. Especially Martine, with the
big breasts and long, blond hair. Trouble is, the stupid girl won't admit what
she is, won't see that she should be worshipping Lesbos and not Adonis! God, how
I'd love to teach her, to get my hands on that gorgeous body, to make it quiver
in response to my hands! Just what is she up to with that pig Granger?" The very
thought of Martine's body made her tremble as she drove through the dark
streets, and it was in a state of some mental and physical confusion that she
finally got out of the car in the underground garage and took the elevator up to
her plush little apartment in the western suburbs of the town.

Throwing the shoulder-bag onto an armchair, she went into the bathroom, turned
on he shower, stripped off and got into it. Ten minutes later she emerged,
dripping water all over the floor, and stood in front of the full-length mirror
on the wall. She studied herself intently. The tan from a summer in the South of
France was still in evidence, colouring her skin a golden hue. Her breasts, full
and rounded, were crowned by protruding ruby-red nipples set in very dark
aureoles and were set high on her chest. From them her gaze swept down, across a
well-define rib-cage, over a stomach that was gently rounded, belying her 34
summers, down to that triangle of dark hair set between thighs that tapered on
down into finely-rounded calves and delicate ankles. Here was no doubt about it,
she had a really lovely body. And the beads of water that covered it at that
moment set it off perfectly.

She wrapped her head in a towel, turban-wise and, rubbing herself vigorously
with a big, fluffy bath towel, she wandered into the kitchen area, fished a Coke
out of the refrigerator and fixed herself a vodka and Coke. Then still naked,
she rummaged in her shoulder-bag, found the little tape-recorder and switched it
on.

"The bastard!" she gasped, when she heard what Mike had suggested to Martine.
Here was this jumped-up American barbarian succeeding in getting his hands on
one of the few people she had any real interest in. She was furious, how dare
he, he wasn't even French and here he was, making off with a girl she had picked
out for herself! In her unreasoning rage, Angelique did not stop to consider the
fact that Martine had, on several occasions, rejected outright her
scarcely-veiled suggestions. All she thought about was the fact that she wanted
Martine, and here was Mike, taking her away from her. The very thought of it was
maddening, but what could she do about it?

She went over to the cabinet against the wall, the one made of rosewood with
sliding wooden doors. Opening the middle one, she looked at her collection of
dildoes. She couldn't have Martine, but at least she could give herself some
satisfaction. Idly her hand went down to stoke between her thighs as she
wondered which one to use. But slowly the realisation came over her that her
fingers, which invariably ended up wet and sticky when she stroked that
particular part of her body, remained dry. Worse, she didn't feel the usual
excitement that pervaded her body when she started this routine. Instead she
felt agitated, frustrated, as though she was being deprived of something.
Suddenly, in a fit of unreasoning pique she threw the nearly-empty glass hard
against the wall, where is shattered. Damn that American swine! She hated him,
and she wouldn't let him take Martine away from her!

Chpt 6.

Over the next few days Angelique could thing of nothing but the impending weeked
that Martine was due to spend with Mike, and how to stop it. But however hard
she thought about it, she couldn't come up with any ideas.

Her obsession began to have an effect on her teaching, she was more waspish than
ever with the students, and hardly more polite with her colleagues. In the end,
on Thursday evening, she decided that she needed some help with the problem.
Looking in her desk-directory, she found the name of a girl she had had an
affair with when they had been at university together in Paris. It was hardly
likely that Monique would still be on the same number, over twelve years later,
but she decided to give it a try anyway.

The phone at the other end of the line rang and rang until Angelique was on the
point of hanging-up when suddenly there was a click and a throaty voice said
"Hello." She thought she recognised the voice.

"Monique?", she enquired tentatively.

"Yes," the voice replied, "Who's that?"

Angelique was elated! "It's me, Angelique," she almost shouted into the
mouthpiece. "Angeligue Viard, we were at the Sorbonne together, don't you
remember?"

"Good heavens" said the throaty voice. "Is that really you, Angelique? Where are
you? What are you doing these days? Why don't you come on over?"

Angelique started to explain her situation - provinces, university etc. Monique
suggested that she come to Paris for the weekend. "But I'm not living at the
same address any more, I have a house out at St Cloud, I was lucky, I managed to
get the phone number transferred here. How will you be coming, by car?" She went
on to give Angelique instructions for finding the house, finishing by saying,
"I'll look forward to seeing you again, and I think you might have a surprise
when you get here. Bye now.", and she rang off before Angelique could ask her
what she meant. She hoped it didn't mean that Monique was married!

The traffic was heavy on the motorway into Paris on the Friday evening and it
was nearly 8 when Angelique finally found the house. She managed to park down
the street, walked quickly back up to the ironwork gate set into the railings
which surrounded the garden in which the house was set, and rang the bell. As
she waited, she looked up at the house. It was tall, three stories high, the
windows framed with darker bricks than those used on the rest of the
construction. It looked solid, comfortable, a house that had been there for
nearly a hundred years and which was at home with itself.

Her musings were broken off by a voice asking, "Who's there?" It came from the
grill of a small metal box fixed to the railing near the gate.

"Angelique," she said, quietly.

"Hi, come on in," said the voice, there was a click and the gate swung inwards a
couple of inches. She pushed it wide open, moved though and closed it behind
her. Then she walked up the short pathway to a flight of three stone steps
leading up to the porch, with its heavy oak door. As she started to climb the
steps, the door swung open and she went inside. The door swung to behind her,
revealing Monique, who was standing in the hallway. Angelique gasped. Monique
was wearing some kind of leather-like corset which left half the nipples of her
opulent breasts uncovered. Her legs were clad in black, fishnet stockings, held
up by black elastic garters. Between the top of the stockings and the bottom of
the corset there was nothing, just a smoothly-shaven pubis and the merest hint
of pink pussy-lips. She wore high-heeled court shoes and her dark, frizzly hair,
piled high on the top of her head, was held in place with several large clips.
Black gloves covered her arms up to the elbows. Around her throat was a wide
leather collar, decorated with gleaming metal rivets and a couple of D-rings.

"I told you you'd be in for a surprise," said Monique, holding open her arms to
welcome her old friend. The two women moved together and kissed one another in
greeting.

"Come on," said Monique, "Take your coat off and hang it up and we'll go into
the living-room and have a drink."

Angelique followed her into a big, high-ceilinged room with white walls and
modern furnishings. Monique moved to the drinks cupboard, mixed a couple of
Martinis, handed one to Angelique and went to sit on the sofa. She patted the
place beside her and Angelique sat down, half-turned to look at her friend.

"It's lovely to see you again, Monique," she said, "but what on earth are you
doing dressed like that? It's hardly the sort of thing your average high-school
teacher wears." She knew that Monique had taken up teaching after finishing at
the Sorbonne.

"Hah!", said Monique. "I gave up teaching very quickly, there's no money in it.
I've found a much better way to make a living."

Angelique stared at her. "Surely you haven't gone into prostitution?", she
gasped, eyeing her friend up and down, taking in her bizarre accoutrements. "I
always thought you were as gay as I am."

"No dear, don't worry, I haven't gone on the game - at least, not in the way you
probably mean. As for being gay, let's say I'm ambivalent, there are times, and
circumstances, when men can be quite entertaining. No, I've become a Femdom, and
apart from the fact that it is making me quite rich, I really like it, I'm
having a lot of fun."

"What on earth is a Femdom?" asked Angelique, bewildered.

"Well, I supposed the best answer is that she is a dominant woman," laughed
Monique. "And in that case, I most certainly am one, 'cos dominate them I do!"

"Dominate who?".

"Men, of course, darling. My clients. There is a certain type of man who, for
whatever reason, wants to be dominated by a woman. Most women are not dominant,
so these men have a really hard time finding one who is. And since the rarer a
thing is, the more expensive it is, I'm doing very nicely thank you."

"But what exactly do you do?"

"Darling, I'd forgotten your penchant for asking questions. I remember now that,
back at university, you asked more question than any five other students put
together! What do I do? Well, - oh the heck with it. I wasn't going to, but the
best way is to show you. I've got one upstairs right now, but I'll have to go
and prepare him first, my clients rely on my discretion. I'll let you in to see
what's going on one condition: you don't make a sound or speak while you are in
the Treatment Room. OK?"

Mystified, Angelique nodded.

"Alright, wait here then, I'll be back in a minute."

In fact it was more like ten minutes before she came back into the room. "Come
on, but don't make a noise on the stairs - in fact, you'd better take your shoes
off down here."

Bare-footed, Angelique followed Monique up two flights of stairs to find herself
outside the door of a room at the end of the house. Putting her finger to her
lips Monique softly opened the door and went inside, beckoning to her friend to
follow her.

The lighting in the room was quite low and at first she had difficulty in making
anything out. Then as her eyes accustomed themselves to the dim light, she saw
that she was in what could only be described as a torture chamber because the
walls were covered with instruments of torture of all kinds. She recognised what
looked like a thumbscrew, a cat-o'-nine-tails, handcuffs, manacles, chains,
whips and others that she couldn't put a name to. In the centre of the room,
running from the wooden floor to a thick beam in the ceiling were a pair of
pillars, each some 12" in diameter and about six feet apart.

Between the two pillars, spread-eagled, stood - or rather hung - a naked man.
Around his wrists there were leather straps, attached to ropes going up to hooks
set into the wooden pillars high above his head. Other straps around his ankles
were tied by ropes to the foot of each pillar, his legs dragged out so that his
feet were wide apart. His mouth was filled with a ball gag and over his eyes
there were swimming goggles, the transparent surfaces painted matt black on both
sides. An ear-plug protruded from each ear.

Angelique stared at the man in amazement and, forgetting her promise was just
going to speak, when Monique again put her finger warningly to her lips, and
then pointed to the man's groin. Angelique bent down to see what she was
supposed to be looking at, and then gasped. She had to look twice to make sure
that she was really seeing what she thought she was seeing.

His balls were stretched down towards the ground by a thick leather strap that
was place around and over them, like a cone with the centre cut out, a device
Monique told her, in a whisper, was called a parachute stretcher. Attached to
the rim of this leather cone were four thin chains which ran down to terminate
just below his knees in a metal ring. Hanging from the ring were a number of
weights, the type used with old-fashioned kitchen scales. Angelique couldn't
make out the numbers on the weights but there seemed to be several kilos
suspended from his balls and it was obvious, from the way they were bunched
tightly together, the scrotal sack pulled thin and shiny in the pale light, the
balls crushed by the weights pulling the edges of the leather together, that
they were under considerable tension. The man had to be in a lot of pain.

Monique bent down beside her and with her hand pulled the weights up and towards
her. She winked at Angelique and let them go. They swung down and up again
behind the victim in a wide arc, and as they did so he moaned. Angelique was
fascinated.

Monique straightened up and spoke loudly.

"It's time to add some more weight, darling," she said. It was immediately
obvious that the man could hear her despite the ear-plugs, because he shook his
head.

"Oh yes, darling," the woman said. "I think I'll give you another half-kilo,
that should be pretty interesting. I wonder just how much weight those balls of
yours can take before something gives. Maybe we'll find out tonight." The man
tried to say something around the ball-gag, but the only sounds the two women
heard were gurgles.

Monique took a weight from a nearby table and, bending down, carefully placed
its hook in place on the metal ring. Then, sadistically, she let the weight drop
the few remaining inches. As the extra weight hit his balls the man screamed, a
scream that was clearly audible despite the gag. Straightening up, Monique put
out both hands towards her victim's chest, and as she did so Angelique could see
that there were clamps tightly attached to his nipples. Monique took hold of the
clamps between her fingers and slowly started to twist them. The man screamed
again, a continuous scream as she turned the clamps though almost a half-turn
and then, suddenly, released them so that the nipples sprang back. More screams,
and a little river of spittle ran down his chin from the corner of his mouth.

Beckoning to Angelique to follow her, Monique went over to the door, opened it
and went out into the corridor. With the door once more firmly shut and the
length of the short corridor between them and the suffering victim, Monique
asked her friend what she thought of what she had just seen.

Angelique wasn't quite sure what to say, so as they went downstairs together she
temporised.

"Do you mean to say that men are really prepared to pay you to hurt them like
that?", she asked.

"Of course they are, darling. They love it and they're prepared to pay through
the nose for it. In fact, the more pain I cause, the more expensive it is.
Stupid, aren't they!".

"But you act as though you like doing it," Angelique accused her.

"But of course I do, it's great fun. You can't begin to imagine how much
pleasure it gives me to see them writhing with pain and to hear them scream. My
only regret is that I have to be careful to let them leave here in the same
state they entered the house. If it weren't for the fact that I have a
reputation to maintain, I'm pretty sure than some of them would leave here as
basket cases!".

Angelique was not so much surprised at this declaration as intrigued.

"But why?", she asked. "They haven't done anything to you, have they?"

"Sweetheart, they offend me just by their existence," replied Monique. "Men are
the worse thing that ever happened to girls like us. This is my way of getting
some pleasure out of them, and getting paid for it at the same time. Haven't you
ever wanted to hurt someone?"

By now they were back in the living-room, seated on the settee again with fresh
drinks in their hands. Monique's question was the signal for Angelique to pour
out her story about Mike and the way he was stealing Martine from her.

"There you are then," said Monique when she had finished, "you'd like to do
things to him, wouldn't you?".

"Of course I would," said Angelique, "but I haven't got a hope in hell of doing
any of them, however much I'd like to."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that, sweetheart. You say that he is going to take her
to his place and that he lives in a house out in the country? My devious mind
tells me that this could be just what you want. I'm going to have a think about
it. But before I do so, how about you giving me some thanks in anticipation,
eh?". And with that she started to slide her hand up Angelique's thigh.

On her way home in her car on Sunday evening, Angelique turned over in her mind
the events of the weekend. Quite apart from the ideas that Monique had come up
with, she had allowed Angelique to watch while she worked on her victim. Some of
the things she had done to him were most ingenious and obviously very painful.
But then, as she had pointed out, that was the name of the game. She had told
Angelique of the amazing variety of torments that she held in stock for her
clients, of how she obtained the various instruments, and of the limits that she
had to observe.

"The very best thing," she had said, "would be to trap a victim you really
hated, who was not a client, and on whom you could really go to town."

The big box in the boot of the car full of equipment Monique had lent her, her
head full of ideas, Angelique, as she raced back up the motorway towards home,
could only agree!

Chpt 7.

Mike woke up with a headache. That was strange, he usually only got them when he
had a hangover, and he certainly hadn't drunk enough last night to be hung-over.
He groaned, but strangely enough he made no noise. He tried to lick his lips,
but found that he couldn't open his mouth. He tried to feel it with his hand,
and found that he couldn't move it, nor the other one. In fact, he couldn't move
at all. His wrists and ankles seemed to be attached to something, but in the
darkness of his room, he couldn't see to what.

He thought back. He had drugged Martine and put her to bed. Then he had had a
last drink before going to bed himself. He hadn't bothered to check the house,
he knew that he had shut and locked everything before leaving to fetch the girl,
the only door he had opened on their return had been the one to the garage, and
he knew that he had shut and locked it before getting her out of the car.

He tugged futilely at his bonds - nothing gave, it was obvious that they were
stronger than he was. He couldn't understand it, here he was, tied up in his own
bed in his own house, a house that had been secure when he had gone to bed. Who
had done this to him, and how?

Sometime later - he had no idea how long - he heard the door open and the light
came on. His eyes watered, unaccustomed as they were to the pitch-black darkness
of the room, and he was unable to make out anything. Then little by little they
cleared and became used to the light and he saw a figure standing at the foot of
his bed. From the tiny waist and the full hips he guessed it was a women, but
that was as far as it went because she was wearing a full face-mask, apparently
of some black, imitation leather material. She just stood there, unmoving,
silent, only the scarlet lips of her mouth visible. Her silence was eerie and,
spread-eagled as he was on the bed, he found that he was being to feel a little
scared. What on earth was going on? Surely Martine, even if she had woken up
already, would never have been able to free herself from the bed he had tied her
to?

The woman, whoever she was, was dressed in a shiny black bodice of thin,
wet-look material that pushed her full breasts up, barely covering the nipples.
Her throat was encircled by a black choker into which were set small metal
studs. She wore what he could only think of as hot pants, again made of that
thin, shiny black material with the wet look. They were tight, outlining the
mound of her pubis. Though he couldn't see them from where he was lying, her
feet were encased in boots of fine, soft leather that came halfway up her
thighs, the high heels making her look taller than she really was.

She stood looking down at him, knowing that her gaze, with her eyes concealed
behind the mask, was making him uneasy. His wrist and ankles were tied to the
four legs of the double bed, so that he was stretched out tightly in the shape
of an X. The only garment he had on was the thin leather pouch holding his cock
and balls, the pouch that he had been too tired to take off when he went to bed.

After some moments she moved round and sat on the bed beside him. She reached
out her hand and placed it gently on his chest. It felt soft and warm and
pleasant, that small hand, lying there. Slowly she began to caress his chest,
her hand moving in small circles, brushing over first his right nipple, then
back to cover the left. The feeling was erotic and he began to get an erection.
She saw the shape of his prick elongating in the thin pouch, and smiled to
herself.

Still moving in small circles, her hand started to move down his chest and over
his stomach. Slowly it crept down towards the leather pouch, but at the last
moment it deviated, creeping slowly and soothingly down his left thigh. Arriving
at the knee, it moved to the inside of his thigh and started slowly, Oh!, so
slowly, moving upwards. The higher it went, the more it slowed down, until the
small circling movement was happening within an inch of his balls and his now
throbbing cock.

Mike didn't know what to think! On the one hand, in view of what he had done to
Martine, he was afraid that this was nothing but the prelude to an attack. On
the other hand, the caresses had raised him to such a heightened state of
sexuality that he didn't really care what she did, so long as she touched him
where he lived.

The hand came to a stop, resting lightly on the inside of his thigh, and a wave
of frustration swept over him. Christ! If only she would get on with it!
Suddenly, the weight of the hand was gone from his leg and he cursed mentally,
it had only been a come-on after all. She had just wanted to get him worked-up -
and as far as that was concerned, he had to admit that she had done a pretty
good job on him.

And then, suddenly, his body went rigid, his hips thrusting upwards as a sharp
fingernail scratched a testicle through its leather covering. The sensation was
beyond words, he felt like he was on the point of coming. Then she did the same
to the other one and he felt like screaming with pleasure, only he couldn't, the
wide piece of packing tape stuck over his mouth and stretching up almost to each
ear made sure of that. The fingernail scraped all over the surface of his balls,
driving him nearly wild. Then it stopped and he felt the leather thong that held
the pouch in place being untied. Next the pouch was pulled away and he felt cool
air on his prick and balls. He shut his eyes tightly and waited for that soft,
feminine hand to caress his cock.

And indeed it did. The soft pads of the fingertips slid slowly down the long
stalk towards his balls and then all four fingers on one side and the thumb on
the other slid round his scrotum and the hand held his balls in its palm.
Slowly, softly, the hand tightened on him and he groaned with pleasure. God,
that felt good! Now, if only she would take his cock in her mouth and suck! But
that was too much to hope for. A tiny thought pricked away at the back of his
mind - why was it necessary to tie him up in order to be so nice to him? And who
was she? He had absolutely no idea who she could be. Not that, in his present
state of excitement, he cared very much anyway.

The hand squeezed his balls gently, rhythmically, and he tried to lift his hips,
to push against it, to heighten the sensation. The he felt the hand open, except
for the index finger and the thumb, so that his balls lay exposed on the palm,
squeezed into the extremity of the scrotum. He felt the woman's other hand come
down and cover them, rolling them around the palm, pressing them gently, teasing
them. His cock was so hard he was sure that he was going to explode at any
moment. His eyes tightly shut, he groaned in pleasurable anticipation. Seeing
this, the woman lifted the hand with which she was manipulating his balls some
six inches into the air and brought it cracking down hard across them!

Mike tried to scream, his body bucking wildly in its bounds as he tried to
double up, not that that did any good, they were far too strong for him to
break. The pain was incredible, he had never felt anything like it before - and
he never wanted to again. It felt as though someone had introduced a giant hand
into the pit of his stomach and was twisting everything inside. He was sure he
was damaged for life. He tugged again at the ropes holding his wrists, he had to
free himself before she had a chance to do anything else to him - something
worse. He tugged wildly, madly, but to no avail, there was no way he was going
to get free. He started to lift his head in order to glare at her, to try to
intimidate her, there was always a chance that...Smack! The hand struck again,
flattening his balls onto the palm of the other one. This time, instead of
removing her hand, she pressed down on them, as hard as she could, at the same
time rolling them between her palms.

He shrieked his agony behind the sticky tape, the excruciating pain invading the
whole lower half of his body, a wave of blackness threatening to engulf his
mind, alone in a world where the only thing that existed, that mattered, was
that atrocious pain! Suddenly she stopped the pressure, but the pain was still
there - it felt as though it had been there way back for as long as he could
remember, and that it would go on forever. He broke out into a heavy sweat, his
naked body suddenly soaking wet with the oozing beads of moisture.

The women smiled behind the black mask. How easy it all was! Here she was,
125lb, a so-called weak female, causing this big, powerful man, 190lb of bone
and muscle and as macho as they come, to writhe and scream with pain, with just
the smallest movements of her hands. This was real power! Suddenly she
understood the mentality of the Femdom. It was like a drug, this feeling of
power, of having at her mercy a man who, under normal circumstances, was
physically her superior. She felt more confident with this realisation, knowing
that she was in control of the situation, even it is was a bit like holding a
tiger by the tail. She giggled to herself - it wasn't the tail she was holding!

Her fingers curled back around his balls and slowly she started to squeeze. His
body tensed in anticipation of the renewal of pain. As her grip tightened the
pain began to flood up from his aching balls. He shook his head wildly, to
indicate that that was enough, but her hand squeezed tighter and tighter. He
writhed, as though in an attempt to shake of the hand that imprisoned and
tortured his maleness, but all to no avail. His body arched up, glistening with
sweat, and still she squeezed. Then in addition to squeezing, she ground one
ball against the other. It was too much for Mike and he blacked out.

The woman's eyes gleamed though the slits in the mask. She had been anticipating
this reaction. Bending down, she picked up a small bottle and a pad of cloth in
small plastic bag from where she had placed them, on the floor near the head of
the bed. Holding her arms out in front of her, she unscrewed the stopper of the
bottle and poured a little of the colourless liquid onto the pad. She
re-stoppered the bottle and put it back on the floor. She then leant forward,
placed the pad over his nose and mouth and started counting. The hospital smell
of ether pervaded the room, and in spite of herself, she shivered - she hated
hospitals. When she had finished she put the pad back into the plastic bag and
pulled the drawstrings tight - it wouldn't do to knock herself out as well.

She resumed her position beside him and listened to his breathing. It was steady
and regular, just as it should be. Everything was going exactly to plan.
Angelique sat back, for it was indeed Angelique behind the black mask, and let
her mind roam back over the events of the past fortnight.

Chpt. 8.

"You're not just going to let him take the girl away from you are you!" Monique
had said. "When we were at university together I always thought you were the
kind of person who  went after what she wanted. Now here you are letting the
American steal the girl you want!".

Angelique was hurt by Monique's contemptuous tone of voice.

"And what the hell am I supposed to do about it?" she asked plaintively. "Of
course I don't want him to have her, but there's not much I can do to stop him."

"You say he's going to take her to his house which is out in the country. OK, so
the first thing to do is to find a way of getting into the house."

"That shouldn't be too difficult. I know he is a very trusting sort of person,
he always leaves his office unlocked at the university and his car-keys on the
desk. I expect his house keys are on the same ring. I'll check on his timetable,
see when he has a 2-hour lesson. Then I can slip into his office, take his keys
and go over the road from the campus to the hyper-market. There's a Mister
Minute key cutter in the mall, all I have to do is have copies made."

"Great!" said Monique. "Then you can slip out to his place when you know he is
safely in a classroom with students, let yourself in and explore the house. If
anyone comes asking questions, you can always say that you are an estate agent
come to look the place over. What you need to look for is a place to hide until
he goes to sleep on Friday night."

"And what do I do then?" asked Angelique.

"You tie him up and play games with him, just like I'm doing with the guy
upstairs."

From there they had gone on to discuss exactly how Angelique should go about it,
what equipment she would need, and so-on. Monique had let her watch while she
worked over her client and Angelique had learnt a lot about administering pain -
and particularly sexual pain - without doing any permanent harm to the victim.

From there they had gone on to spend long hours in bed together, going through
the whole gamut of lesbian lovemaking, until the pair of them were exhausted.
Monique had almost forgotten to release her client, who had spent those long
hours while the two women were enjoying themselves writhing in agony as
electricity coursed though his anus and testicles.

On the Monday she had checked Mike's timetable, slipped into his office to take
his keys - the house-key was indeed on the ring - and had gone quickly to the
Mister Minute. In fact there were two keys on the ring that seemed to belong to
house doors, so she had copies made of both of them. The man in the shop didn't
ask any questions, for him it was pure routine, another mother wanting an extra
set of keys for one of her kids.

On Tuesday afternoon Mike had four successive hours of lessons, but she was free
so, having checked that he was indeed in his classroom, she drove out to his
house, brazenly parking on the gravel drive in front of the front door. The
first key she tried was the right one and she let herself in, closing the door
behind her.

The house was very ordinary, she thought, but quite big for one person living
alone. The ground floor and first floor were uninteresting, and there were no
good places to hide, either. She opened the door onto the stairs leading to the
second floor and went up. At the top there were two more doors. The first one
opened onto a box-room, full of old furniture, cardboard boxes and other junk,
all of it covered in dust. She tried the second one. It was very dark inside, no
window, and she couldn't see anything. She fumbled around until she found the
light switch. Bingo! The floor was littered with tools, pieces of wood and
furniture, some finished, some in the process of being made. On a table there
were instruments of various kinds. It was obvious that he was getting ready to
entertain Martine, and his form of entertainment was obviously going to be
sadistic!

Leaving the light on she went back to the box-room. It was obvious that no-one
had been in there in ages, with a bit of rearrangement of the contents she would
have an ideal place to hide. Being careful not to stir up the dust, she moved
things around until she had made a small rampart of old boxes and things, close
to the wall separating the box-room from Mike's torture chamber. She went behind
the rampart to make sure she would have enough room. To her delight she found
that there was in chink in the rough-hewn planks that made-up the wall; through
which she had a view of the adjoining room. The way she had arranged her hiding
place, only a carefully inspection of the room would betray her presence, and in
the state Mike was likely to be when he had Martine in the house, she didn't
think it very likely that he would have his mind on other things!

Her plan was quite simple. She knew that Mike was due to pick Martine up on the
university campus at 7 on the Friday evening. She would pull off the road in the
small wood near his house. When his car went by, she would run over to the
house, let herself in and get settled down in the box-room. After that, she
would have to play it by ear. She just hoped that it didn't rain on Friday, wet
footsteps in the hall would be a real giveaway.

Most evenings were spent searching the Net for ideas. She bought herself an
Adult ID and access to three big multi-sites, figuring male torture and porn.
From these she got a lot of ideas for what she was going to do to Mike once she
had control of him. Of course, she knew very well that she was taking a risk,
but in fact it was no more than the one Mike was taking with Martine, with the
exception that he was far stronger then her. She was going to have to be very
careful how she kept him restrained, but that would only add spice to the whole
thing.

On Monique's advice she wrote to a firm in London and bought a TENS machine from
them. It wasn't really very expensive and Monique had given her a demonstration
of just how devastating the device could be when used in the right way. After
what she had seen in that upstairs room in St Cloud, she sincerely hoped no-one
ever had the chance to use one on her!

She figured that this, plus the equipment that Monique had lent her would be
more than enough to punish Mike for trying to steal Martine from her - it just
didn't enter her head that Martine didn't belong to her in the first place, she
had an absolute fixation on the matter.

The only thing that could go wrong with her plan would be that Martine would
chicken out at the last moment and not show up on the Friday evening. She
wouldn't even know about it until too late, because she would already be holed
up the box-room when Mike got back, with or without the girl. Oh well, that was
a risk she would have to take, it didn't really change anything, except that she
would have to decide whether she wanted to go ahead and do Mike over anyway, or
just slip silently out of the house. She had a strong feeling it would be the
former!

And then there had been the meeting with Catherine. During the week prior to the
Easter weekend a small farewell party was help for a retiring member of staff,
and Angelique decided to attend. At the party she ran across a friend, Catherine
Ducros, whom she hadn't seen for some time. Catherine was a teacher in the
biology department, and when Angelique saw her at the party she was very pale
and her swollen left hand was wrapped in a large bandage.

"Catherine! I haven't seen you for ages. But you look positively ghastly,
darling, what have you done to your hand?".

Catherine smiled weakly. "I was injecting a rat as part of a experiment, but the
damned thing struggled so much, I missed and stuck the needle in my own hand."

"But that wouldn't make it swell up like that, would it?".

"Just the needle, no. It's what was in the syringe that did the damage. It's a
new product we are trying out. On me, the result was immediate swelling and a
burning sensation, as though someone was sticking dozens of red-hot needles into
my hand. It hurt like hell, still does come to that, and that was two days ago."

""You said on you. Doesn't it have the same effect on everyone?"

Oh yes, and in some cases even worse. I was just making the comparison between
me and the rat. Not to worry, we know the effects are temporary."

Angelique commiserated with her and they went on to talk of other things. Before
they parted, Angelique said that now they had seen one another, it would be a
shame to loose touch again, and that she would drop by the lab next day.

"So this is where you work. You've got quite a set-up here," Angelique said
admiringly the following afternoon. "Is this where you stick hypodermic needles
in yourself?"

"Yeah, but everything is OK now," and she showed Angelique her unbandaged left
hand, now looking quite normal with only a tinge of redness persisting.

"Are there likely to be any after-effects?".

"No, it's a fairly harmless compound, it's just that it has the irritant effect
on humans, that and it causes swelling. You wouldn't think, to look at it, " and
she picked up a small bottle that had been standing on the bench nearby, "that
this colourless liquid could cause so much pain. Fortunately we've found an
antidote which is almost instantaneous, I tried it on myself this morning and
the pain and swelling disappeared within half-an-hour. We're going to keep the
antidote in the open in case it happens again," and she pointed to another small
bottle on the bench.

They chatted for a while, until a lab assistant came to ask Christine for some
special equipment. Excusing herself, Christine went of to open the safe cabinet
in the basement, saying she would be back in five minutes.

Left alone in the lab, Angelique quickly found a couple of test-tubes and
stoppers, filled each one about half-full with one of the two liquids and,
wrapping them carefully in a handkerchief, put them in her handbag.

They had worried her for the rest of the day, those test-tubes, so
fragile-looking, lying there in the bottom of her handbag. She had been more
than somewhat relieved when she had at last got them safely home.

Three days before the event she woke up to find that everything seemed to be
going to pieces on her - the weather had suddenly turned very cold and there was
a light covering of snow everywhere. It was obvious that if this continued the
whole thing was off, there was no way she would be able to get into the house
without leaving traces of her passage if the snow settled. Fortunately the
weather changed again the snow started to melt, and by the next morning all
trace of it had disappeared.

Finally, on the Friday night everything had gone as smoothly as she had hoped it
would. No rain, no more snow, plenty of time to get safely to the house and up
to her hiding place. The only small problem had been carrying the bulky holdall
with her equipment in it, because it had banged against her leg as she hurried
though the dark lane. She had even installed a chair in her hideaway, no point
in being uncomfortable, the evening was probably going to be a long one.

She had held her breath when she heard Mike bringing Martine up the stairs, the
next few minutes were crucial, if she got through them without being discovered,
everything would be OK. If not - she tried not to think of what would happen if
Mike found her.

But, as anticipated, he was far too interested in the girl to pay attention to
anything else. The bulge in his trousers was ample evidence of his state of
mind, the filthy pig!

She watched silently as he fixed the almost-naked girl into position on the rods
on the dais and cut off her pants. She winced as she saw the wooden paddle crack
down across the cheeks of her ass, turning them a rosy hue with each successive
blow and she thought of how grateful Martine would be to her when she,
Angelique, rescued her from this brute.

The sight of the girl's suffering started to turn her on, just as the writhings
of the man in Moniques's upper room had done. She found that the girl's
completely naked body looked even better when she was tied to the upright steel
rods. When Mike massaged her breasts with the Deep Heat, Angelique's hand went
down between her thighs, where she found that her pants were already quite
soaked. As she watched, her middle finger crept down into the cleft between her
pussy lips and started that old, familiar motion, rubbing back and forth across
her swollen clit. It felt wonderful, and those breasts! The only snag was that
it was Mike's hands which were playing with them and not her own, not that that
was going to last, if she had anything to do with it!.

When Mike turned the upper half of Martine's body loose and she started twisting
around frantically, trying to cool her tits, causing them to ripple, Angelique
came. And came... and came! Aided by her diligent finger and inspired by the
sight of the beautiful, suffering Martine, the orgasm lasted for several
minutes. She was afraid that Mike would hear her rasping breath and was relieved
when he left the room.

It was strange, the effect that the pain the girl was going through had on her.
She had always been a fairly waspish sort of person, but now she was finding
hidden depths of sadistic satisfaction in herself she had never suspected she
possessed. She had first realised this whilst watching Monique torturing her
client in St Cloud. At one point, when Monique had flogged his cock, which was
stretched upwards by a cord tied at one end to his glans and at the other to a
hook in the ceiling, with a small whip made up of 5 soft leather thongs attached
to a short handle, it had been all that she could do not to speak, to ask
Monique to let her have a go. And when Monique had shown her how squeezing the
man's balls in a certain way caused him to scream, to try to double over, and
finally to faint, she had sworn to herself that she would try that on Mike. And
so she had, she thought to herself with satisfaction.

One thing did surprise her, though. She was lesbian, and proud of it, disliking
most men from a sexual point of view. And yet, curiously, the feel of Mike's
balls in her hand had been a revelation to her. She had had to steel herself to
take hold of them, expecting a feeling of revulsion, similar to that of handling
a snake. But in fact she had found them soft and warm, the sack was pliable and
it was interesting the way they moved around inside it under the influence of
her questing fingers. She broke off from her reverie, leant forward and took
them in her hand again. No, her memory wasn't playing tricks on her, they really
did feel most agreeable - pity that they were so hairy, but that could always be
changed. She squeezed them gently, watching the man's face, but Mike was out
cold and even when she increased the pressure there was no reaction. Pity, she
could hardly wait to start playing with him again. Idly, she chased one testicle
around inside the sack with her thumb while her thoughts drifted back to the
night's events.

She had watched Mike shave Martine - something she found incredibly erotic, the
sight of the girl's naked sex was really something - and then put the
sharp-toothed clamp on her clit. Whilst she was all for the shaving - she was
thinking of doing the same thing to herself - the idea of the clamp upset her,
or was it the idea that it was Mike who was doing it and not her which was the
trouble? She had enjoyed the forced-feeding routine; although she hated his
guts, she had to admit that he was very ingenious.

She had waited a couple of hours before creeping silently from her hiding place
and going across the torture chamber and into the alcove where Martine was
chained to the bed, fast asleep. She patted the girl's face, but there was no
response. With her thumb she rolled up one eye-lid, but it was quite obvious
that Martine was out to the world, and not likely to come round for some time.
She pulled the blanket off the sleeping girl. There was no doubt about it, she
really did have the most wonderful body.

Angelique sat on the bed beside her and put her hand on the girl's knee. From
there she slid it slowly, lingeringly up her thigh, rubbing the heel of her hand
across the freshly-shaven pubis. Then across the flat, soft stomach, across the
lower rib-cage until she came to the breast. She hesitated, and then started to
caress the creamy, soft, yielding mass of flesh. It felt so good under her
fingers, especially when she got to the nipple. This she stroked and tweaked
until it started to erect, which rather surprised her, given that Nadine was
fast asleep. The body obviously had its own agenda, which sometimes didn't take
any notice of whether the owner was around or not. She bent over and licked the
nipple, then took it delicately between her teeth and nibbled it. Still the girl
showed no sign of life. Angelique sat up and sighed. She was going to have to
wait until she woke up.

Next, with a great deal of care and carrying a small bag she slowly went
downstairs to Mike's bedroom. She stood outside the door for a long time, not
daring to go any further. If anything went wrong at this stage, she was really
in trouble. Finally, summoning up all her courage, she gently turned the knob
and went inside.

The tiny pencil torch she held between her teeth gave just enough light to allow
her to make out where the bed was. Going over to it, she saw that Mike was
sleeping on his back. Ideal. Very carefully she put the bag on the floor, got
out the pad and ether bottle and poured some of the liquid onto the cloth. Now
for the tricky bit. Carefully, oh so carefully, she stretched out her hand and
held the pad over his face, just a couple of inches above it. This would do to
make sure that he didn't wake when she made her next move, which was to press
the pad lightly over his nose and mouth. She timed the application carefully,
she didn't want to kill him, not that she was really very worried about that, it
was more that she didn't want to spend the rest of her life in jail.

Quickly, for in spite of the way things were going, she was still a bit
frightened, she buckled stout leather cuffs as tightly as she could to his
wrists and ankles, cords to the cuffs, and then tied him well stretched out,
spread-eagled to the four corners of the bed. She check and double checked the
knots. Only when she was quite sure that he was immobile did she at last relax.
The final task was to tape his mouth firmly shut with glass-reinforced packing
tape.

Monique had told her that part of the treatment she gave her clients was mental.
She dressed as sexily as she possibly could, showing the parts of her body they
would really like to get at, because she knew very well that this got them
terribly frustrated. Having a sexy body in full view while they were suffering
sexual pain just made it worse. Angelique had decided that she would follow
Monique's advice and do as she had suggested. Leaving Mike securely attached to
his bed and out cold for the next couple of hours, she went back up to the
box-room, carried the holdall through to the torture chamber, and proceeded to
strip off.

The big bag, besides having the equipment from St Cloud, also held the clothes
she had hired the day before from a shop in town which specialised in carnival
and theatrical costumes. First came a brassiere made of very thin, soft black
vinyl material, which seemed to mould her breasts like a second skin. A pair of
hot pants made of the same stuff came next, so tight that the material sank into
the cleft between her cunt lips, outlining them suggestively. Long, fine leather
black boots with stiletto heels for her feet and legs, and finally the leather
face-mask. Curiously, once she had put the mask on she felt a lot safer, as
though it was some sort of protection. She felt as though she was hiding behind
it, as if she was not really there any more,

Dressing in this way had a strange effect on her personality. Normally, although
she was lesbian and somewhat bitchy she behaved with decorum in public, as
befitted a university teacher, but here she suddenly felt both extrovert and
incredibly sexed-up. She rubbed her hands over her breasts and between her legs,
frantically, urgently, demanding release. She moved into the alcove and,
stilling caressing herself, looked down at the naked Martine. Oh God, why didn't
she wake up, the little cow! She's have given anything to have the girl's head
between her open thighs, her tongue licking busily away at her clit, poking its
way towards the opening, teasing, exciting, while she, Anglegique, caressed and
squeezed those magnificent breasts until her partner cried out in pleasure. But
it was not to be, Martine was still in the grip of her drugged sleep and
Angelique, if she wanted sexual relief, would have to find it for herself.

Feeling more and more frustrated, she went back into the room, rummaged around
in the holdall and came up with a vibrator. Quickly she pulled off the boots and
the hot-pants, switched it on and ran it over her pubic mound. She pressed it
hard against herself, feeling the vibrations penetrate her body, making it buzz,
making those hot, wet sensations flood through her. That was better, but she
wanted more. She slipped the instrument down into the gap between her cunt-lips,
gasping with pleasure, giving little mewling cries as the vibrating tip
stimulated her even more.

Further down slid the tip of the dildo, till it reached the opening to her
vagina. And slipped in, and up, filling it, sliding easily, for there was no
lack of lubrication, her juices were flowing copiously, she could feel them
running down onto the fingers that held the vibrator. She pushed the buzzing
instrument further up inside her, until it hit her cervix. She cried out as the
sensations ripped though her, her entire body flushing as she came in a
shattering orgasm that seemed to go on and on forever.

After what seemed like an eternity, as the sensations slowly died away, she
switched off the vibrator and slowly, regretfully, slid the now-dripping machine
out of her vagina. She sat down, momentarily exhausted. She'd better be careful,
she thought, that was twice inside a couple of hours, if she went on like this
she would never last the weekend. She wiped herself with a small towel that she
had thought to bring along for that very purpose and then pulled back on the
hot-pants and the boots.

Fumbling in the pocket of her trousers, she found her cigarettes and her
lighter, took one out of the packet and lit it. She drew the smoke down into her
lungs, the first for nearly three hours. The rush of nicotine through her
bloodstream was almost instantaneous, as it usually was when she had not smoked
for any length of time. She felt dizzy, light-headed, almost to the point where
she thought that she was going to fall off the chair.

This wouldn't do, she had better get at least a bit of sleep or she would start
making mistakes that could cost her. Taking the small quartz alarm clock with
her, she went down to the sitting-room, set the clock for two hours, curled up
on the settee and went to sleep.

Chpt.9.

When she woke she felt refreshed and ready for the next round, which was not an
easy one. In about an hour Mike was going to come round again and she had to get
him up the stairs and into the torture chamber safely, without giving him a
chance to rebel. She had given this operation quite a bit of thought and come up
with an idea, thanks to some photos she had seen on the Net. It was quite
incredible, the amount of information there was for the taking on certain sites,
the trick was looking at the right ones.

Back up the the toruture chamber she took a length of thick dowel, almost as
thick as a broom-handle, and about three feet long from the holdall. It looked a
bit like a draughtsman's T-square, because fixed to one end, at right-angles to
the main rod, was another one, about eighteen inches in length. She also took
some lengths of nylon cord and some other bits and pieces.

Going down to Mike's bedroom, she first checked that he was still unconscious.
She did this by giving his balls a good squeeze. Then she unfastened his left
wrist and ankle and tied the wrist to his right one. This meant he was now lying
on his side. Next, after untying his right ankle, she pulled his knees up so
they were close to his chest, as though he were crouching. Lifting his left leg,
she gabbed his balls from behind and pulled them back between his thighs, at the
same time letting go of his leg. His balls were now behind the back of his
thighs.

Letting go of them, she make a sliding noose in one end of one of the lengths of
nylon cord, put it over his balls and pulled it tight. Then she put the rod so
that the cross-piece was about six inches below his balls, across the backs of
his thighs. Finally she tied the cord from his balls securely to the long rod
which was thus pulled against the cleft between the cheeks of his ass. Now, if
she pulled back on the top end of the rod, it would pivot on his thighs, pulling
his balls out behind him, and since the rod above where the cord from his balls
was tied was well over two feet long, she could exert a considerable amount of
leverage with very little effort. She thought it would probably be quite
possible to actually tear his balls right off! But without going to that
extreme, she could cause him a terrific amount of pain with a simple pull on the
rod, which meant that he was going to be very amenable.

She undid the cords that tied his wrists to the corner of the bed, pulled his
arms up behind him and tied the cords around his neck. Any attempt to use his
hands and he would end up strangling himself. Any attempt to escape or to refuse
to do what she told him and she would pull on the rod. Having seen how much it
hurt just to squeeze his balls, she didn't think that she would run into much
opposition. Finally, she tied another cord to the top end of the rod, so that
she could control him from a distance. She didn't think that he would be stupid
enough to kick backwards at her as he went up the stairs, but she wasn't taking
any chances.

Next, she needed to do something about the gag, that strip of tape across his
mouth did not please her at all. She had come prepared with a tube gag and
bridle. The tube gag was an oval shaped piece of metal tubing with a big flange
at one end. This went in the mouth, keeping the jaws wide open, the flange
butting up against the teeth. In this case there was a rubber lining to the
flange.

The bridle was a sort of head- harness. She quickly ripped the tape off, pulled
his head back by the hair, forced his lower jaw down and inserted the tube. Next
she attached the bridle. Straps went from the sides of the tube, around his head
to be buckled at the back. A strap in the shape of an inverted V went from the
sides of the tube upwards on each side of his nose, meeting between his eyes and
then going on over the top of his head. Where this strap crossed the top of his
head there was a big metal ring let into it, from which two other straps dropped
down in front of his ears. These three straps were buckled to a wide, sturdy
leather collar which encircled his neck. Two more straps went from the corners
of the tube downwards, to buckle onto the collar under his chin.
The result was that he could not open his mouth at all, once all the straps had
been pulled tight. Finally she attacked a cord to the ring on the top of his
head.

She figured that Mike was now ready to be woken and taken upstairs, but waking
him was not easy. It took a fair number of slaps across the face before he even
began to show signs of returning to consciousness. When he did start to come
round, it was like waking from a nightmare, only to find that the reality was as
bad, if not worse, than the dream. He became aware that he was lying on his
side, knees drawn up against his chest, hands behind his back, his mouth full of
something, and his balls still aching. He started to straighten out his legs,
only to hear a voice say, "I wouldn't do that if I were you, you might regret
it." He froze.

"Straighten out your legs slowly," said the voice. It was a woman's voice, and
it seemed to him to be familiar, but he couldn't place it. He cursed silently to
himself, remembering what had happen before he had blacked out. She - whoever
she was - had beaten and squeezed his balls, causing the most fantastic pain.
Now she still had him tied up, but not to the bed, and he decided that there she
had made a mistake. From what he had seen he was much bigger and stronger than
her and it wouldn't be long before he would get free and then...! But in the
meantime, he supposed he'd better do what she told him to do.

Slowly, cautiously, he started to straighten up. He had got about 80% of the
way, when he felt a growing tension on his balls. He stopped moving. The tension
remained, but didn't increase. He straighten out a tiny bit more and the tension
became stronger and at the same time he felt the pressure of the cross-piece on
the back of his thighs. It didn't take him long to work out what was happening -
she had pulled his balls back and tied them to a piece of wood, so that when he
tried to straighten up, he automatically stretched his own balls. He had seen a
similar device advertised in a virtual shop on the Net and knew that it was very
efficient. He was going to have to be very careful how he moved, if he didn't
want to do himself a lot of damage. He couldn't seen the refinement she had
added, the vertical rod.

"Now listen very carefully, pig," said Angelique. "You are going to get up off
this bed and walk upstairs. If you don't, you're going to suffer." She didn't
bother to add that once she got him up there, he was going to suffer anyway!"

Not knowing about the vertical rod, Mike decided to try some passive resistance
and lay quite still on the bed.

Angelique smiled to herself, his reaction was quite normal, she would probably
have done the same thing herself, if she had been in his place she thought,
adding to herself that that was unlikely, since she didn't have any balls!

"I'll give you a second chance," she said. "In future, I'll only tell you to do
something once. Now get up off the bed."

Mike didn't move.

"Ok, big boy," she said to herself, and started to pull the cord attached to the
rod. As the pain built up Mike moaned, and then yelled. The tube-gag allowed
quite a lot of noise to come out, more than she wanted, so she stopped pulling,
grabbed a handkerchief and stuffed it into the opening of the gag. Then she
started to pull again.

The pain was atrocious and Mike realised that he couldn't stand much more, so he
made an effort to swing his legs forward over the edge of the bed, but he
couldn't quite manage it. Angelique saw what was happening, stopped pulling on
the cord, went round to the other side of the bed and , grabbing his ankles,
swung him round. Next she took hold of the cord attached to the bridle and
started to pull him to an upright sitting position. It was hard work, he was
heavy, and when she had got him almost upright he started to scream again. She
quickly realised why; by pulling him up like that, she was making him sit on his
own bunched up balls. She giggled and changed the direction of her pull, hauling
him to his feet.

Mike ended up, balls aching, standing in a hunched-over position with his knees
bent. He realised that she was in complete control, so when she told him to
start walking towards the door he didn't hesitate. Walking, in the true sense of
the word, was not really on in his position, it was more of a hobble, taking
tiny steps in order not to inflict any more pain on himself.

He got though the door and was directed to the foot of the stairs going to the
second floor. Here he hesitated - climbing those stairs was going to be not only
tricky and painful, but also quite dangerous, supposing he lost his balance and
fell? He hated to think of the consequences, it was almost certain that a part
of his anatomy to which he was very attached would be removed, in the most
painful manner. He started sweating again.

Angelique saw the beads of sweat burst out all over his body and guessed what he
was thinking. She pulled on the cord and he groaned with the pain.

"Either you walk up these stairs and take a risk on an accident happening, or I
can remove them - very slowly - right now," she said in a hard voice, and
tweaked the cord.

Mike yelled at the flash of pain, and then tentatively lifted one bare foot and
placed it on the first stair. That was OK, it was when he transferred all his
weight to that leg and started to lift his body that he was unable to avoid
putting some strain on his scrotum. He groaned and got his other foot up onto
the stair. Behind him Angelique watched, fascinated. She could see that the
movement was hurting him, not that she cared much about that. She was more
interested in the way the muscles in the cheeks of his ass moved, it was almost
like watching a living sculpture.

He had stopped on the first stair. She tweaked the cord and said, "Get on with
it!" Mike lifted his foot and took another agonising step upwards.

It took quite a while to climb the entire fight of stairs, with frequent stops
on the way, and when they got to the top Mike was dripping with sweat, bent
right over to avoid putting any tension on the cord, and just about ready to
drop. Angelique, on the other hand, was very satisfied with the manoeuvre, it
had given her confidence in her method, she was now quite sure that she could
handle Mike and that there was no way that he could get at her. A simple tug on
a cord and all resistance disappeared. She was so pleased that she decided to
reward him for his obedience. Bending down, she rang her fingernails over the
tightly-stretched skin that encased his testicles.

Her action nearly provoked a catastrophe and put an early stop to the weekend.
She hadn't warned Mike what she was going to do, and the feel of those sharp
nails on his already-tender balls, instead of causing the pleasurable sensation
she had anticipated, felt like burning cigarette-ends. He yelled, automatically
straightened up to try to escape the pain, and very nearly castrated himself!
The pain was unbearable and he screamed and screamed as he quickly hunched over
again to put a stop to it.

Angelique was afraid he would pass out, fall and do even more damage to himself,
so she quickly grabbed the bridle cord and tried to hold him up. Just when it
seemed that he was on the point of collapsing, he steadied on his feet and the
crisis was over. Angelique told herself that she would have to be more careful,
no more impulsive moves of that kind.

When she thought he was quite recovered she urged him through the door into the
torture chamber. Up until this point Mike had not realised just what an effect
the sight of the room had had on Martine, but now, as he looked around at all
the furniture and instruments that he had prepared for her, and knew that some
of them were going to be used on him he became really frightened.

So far, it had all been a game. OK, he had hurt her a bit, but not too much and
she had agreed to be punished, even if she hadn't anticipated quite that sort of
treatment. But all that was as nothing compared to the pain this female had
inflicted on him! And why? Who was she? How had she got into the house? These
and many other questions went whirling around in his head as she made him hobble
to the far side of the room, coming to rest under a big, horizontal beam that
made up one of the A-frames in the roof structure. There were a series of cords
hanging from hooks screwed into this beam and Anglelique tied one of them to the
ring in the top of the bridle, pulling him up so that there was some tension in
the cord which tied his balls to the rod, but not enough to be really painful.

Next, she took hold of the end of another dangling cord and tied it to the
leather cuff around his right wrist. A second was attached to the one on his
left wrist. These cords went through ring-bolts let into the beam, across to
rings in another beam set into the wall, and from there down to cleats screwed
securely to the wall about four feet from the wall.

"Now listen very carefully," she told Mike. "I am going to untie the cord that
holds your right arm up behind your back. Don't get any stupid ideas, or you'll
get hurt. You are going to hold your right hand up in the air. Got it? Just
remember, one false move and..." She didn't finish her sentence, but gave the
rod a little pull. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Mike knew that there
was nothing he could do, he was going to have to obey her. When she untied the
cord, he put his right hand up in the air.

Anglelique had taken great care to stay well behind Mike during this operation,
so that there was no chance that he could spin round and grab her. Now she took
hold of the cord attached to his wrist and pulled as hard as she could,
fastening the cord to the cleat on the wall. Then she released his left wrist
from his neck and repeated the operation. The end result was that Mike now stood
there with both arms hauled up tightly over his head in a wide V-shape. She
tighten up the cord attached to the bridle, so that he could only see straight
in front of him.

Next she squatted down and attached cords to the cuff on each ankle. Going
behind him, she undid the cord tying his balls to the rod and put rod and cord
on the floor. Mike sighed with relief, it was wonderful to have no pain in his
balls again. Then he felt Angelique press her body against his back. She put her
arms round him, her hands on his chest, and ran them down his body towards his
groin. He tensed. Her right hand went on down and gently took hold of his balls.

"Now I would like you to move you feet so that your legs are wide apart," she
breathed softly. Knowing he had no alternative, he moved his feet about a foot
apart.

"Wider," she said, rubbing one testicle against the other in a circular motion.
He shuffled them out further.

"More," she said. He did as he was told.

"Good. Now then, I am going to let go of you, bend down and attach your feet to
a couple of hooks screwed into the floor, so that you can't close them. Once I
have done that, and tightened up the cords holding your wrists, you will be
spread out in an X shape, unable to move and very, very vulnerable. Of course,
there will be nothing to stop you moving your feet back together before I have
had time to tie them, except for the knowledge that if you do so, I shall do
something excruciatingly painful to you before we start the whole thing over
again."

The bitch! As he stood there, legs wide apart, balls dangling, arms held
helplessly up in the air, Mike realised what she was doing. It was mental
torture, a bit like when he had given Martine the choice of the instrument she
was to be beaten with. If he remained as he was, he would be tied in an
incredibly vulnerable position, she would be able to do the most terrible things
to him without his being able to protect himself. He would be willingly allowing
himself to be spread-eagled. If he resisted, he would get hurt, and from what
she had already done to him, that would be anything but pleasant. On the other
hand, if he didn't make an attempt now to resist, she was going to torture him
anyway.

He trembled, standing there, in that humiliating position. Whichever choice he
made, he was in trouble. Angelique, still gently rubbing his balls together,
felt the trembling and smiled behind the mask. She guessed what he was thinking,
the indecision running through his mind, just as it had through Martine's. Oh,
she would pay him back for what he had done to her future lover, that was for
sure. He was going to pay, and dearly. She mentally thanked Monique once again
for having introduced her to this wonderful game. She pressed herself tighter
against his naked body, knowing that the feel of her would confuse him even
more. It was not that she had any desire for him, he was a man, but the feel of
that bare, sweaty flesh was quite agreeable, as was his body odour. Maybe she
wasn't pure lesbian after all, she thought, maybe she was a little bit bi.

Reluctantly letting go of his balls, she moved round in front of him and knelt
between his legs. She put the palms of her hands on the insides of his thighs,
down just above his knees and then started to run them slowly upwards. Mike
trembled even more. On the one hand the feel of those hands on his skin was
wonderful, but on the other he was frightened that she would hit his balls
again. Should he close his legs, protect himself, or remain as he was, with the
danger of a ball-strike? He shivered, partly in anticipation, partly in fear.
His mind whirled. What should he do?

Angelique's hand moved even higher, the finger straightened out and the nail
scratched one of his testicles. He gasped, went rigid, tried to double up ready
for the pain he knew must follow. Instead, she went on scratching, and he began
to relax. It felt nice. She stopped. Her other hand closed round his now-rigid
cock and moved downwards, pulling the foreskin down over the glans to leave it
exposed. God, that felt good! Her hand moved up, then down again, starting to
masturbate him. He groaned with pleasure, thrusting his hips towards her hand.
The other one moved to imprison his balls, and for an instance he thought she
was going to squeeze them, but she only held them gently as she continued
manipulate his cock. The sensation grew and grew, and he knew that soon he was
going to come.

And then, suddenly, nothing. No hand holding his cock, wanking it. No hand
gently caressing his balls. Those hands were busy attaching the cords of his
ankle cuffs to the hooks in the floor. He could have screamed with frustration,
how could she do this to him!

She stood, up, her task finished, and stood in front of him, her hands on his
chest again.

"How did you like that, big boy?" she asked, teasingly. "I got the impression
you were enjoying it. Pity I had to stop. Would you like me to start again?"

He couldn't speak, he couldn't even nod his head. He made a thrusting motion
with his hips. She laughed. "My, we are hot for it, aren't we. Unfortunately, I
have other plans for you darling, and pleasure is not part of them. Now I am
going to run my hand slowly, very slowly, down to your balls, take them in it
and squeeze them. It is going to be very painful, you are going to scream with
pain. And the fact that you know that this is going to happen and that there is
nothing you can do to stop it makes it all that much worse, doesn't it?"

The hand crept down, as she had promised and, oh! so slowly, engulfed his
testicles and started to squeeze. When it got to the point that he could take no
more and started to scream around the gag, she relaxed the pressure. Only to
start applying it again a moment later. And stopped when he started to scream.
And started again. And stopped. This went on for what seemed to Mike like an
eternity, but which, in fact, was only five or six minutes. Then her hand went
back to his cock and started to wank him again. Almost to orgasm. Just before he
came, she went back to the squeezing routine, and him to screaming. Another
wank, more squeezing, more screaming, until he could feel his balls swelling up,
loaded with sperm, ready to fire off his load, but he couldn't! The sheer
frustration was worse, if possible, than the squeezing.

Angelique carried on the routine for a good half-hour, watching him get more and
more wildly frustrated, knowing that he was suffering from what Monique had
called the 'blue balls' syndrome - an excess of unrelieved sexual frustration,
augmented by a carefully administered dose of pain. Even if she stopped now and
didn't touch him again, his balls would be painful for several days to come. Not
that she had any intention of stopping, she was enjoying herself too much. The
sight of his pain was beginning to turn her on in a big way. The intimate
physical contact with his body, an experience new to her, was proving to be not
the disgusting necessity she had expected but a really rather pleasant
sensation. And touching him like this allowed her to literally feel the pain
that coursed through him whenever she wanted it to. Power! Unlimited power over
another being. She revelled in it.

Finally she stopped, stood back a few paces and looked at her victim. He stood
there, spread-eagled, all the muscles in his legs standing out from the strain
of holding what was, after all, an unnatural position. Arms upstretched, head
held high by the bridle cord, body glistening with sweat, testicles hanging down
between his thighs, but not a mark on him anywhere to show that he had been
tortured. She felt quite proud of herself, not bad for a member of the so-called
weaker sex. She felt a bit like a big-game hunter might have felt fifty years
ago, posing in front of an imposing trophy.

It was time, she thought, to let him know what was going on. There was not much
point in just hurting him, she wanted him to know why all this was happening to
him, why he was being tortured, and by whom. Stepping forward, she reached up
and undid the cord that held his head upright. Then she slowly lifted the mask
that had covered her face, and looked straight at him.

Mike stared back at her. Surely he knew that face. He hunted around in his
memory. Yes, now he'd got it, she taught at the University, in the Communication
Department. He had met her on a couple of occasions, at cocktails and so-on, and
had also passed her in the corridors, but they had never actually spoken. What
on earth was another teacher doing here, torturing him?

Angelique saw the recognition come into his eyes, and smiled sweetly at him.

"Good morning, Mr Granger," she said, in a sarcastic tone of voice. "What are
you doing, hanging around here?" She wanted to laugh at her own witticism, but
decided it wasn't really the moment.

"I expect you are wondering what is going on," she said. "It must be quite a
shock to wake up and find yourself being treated like this by one of your
colleagues. It must be an even bigger shock, not to say humiliation, to find
that the colleague is a woman, and that she is capable of handling a big,
powerful man like you."

Mike winced at this last remark. He was indeed a bit macho, and the idea of this
woman being able to do all this too him really pricked his male ego.

"The reason for all this," said Angelique, "is sleeping peacefully in that
little room behind that door over there."

Mike was puzzled, she couldn't mean Martine, could she? As far as he knew, there
was no link between the girl and this woman - or was there. Angelique saw the
lack of comprehension on his face and hastened to explain.

"I heard what you were planning to do to Martine, and I couldn't let you get
away with that, so here we are. Martine is my lover - in fact, if you're a good
little boy, we'll let you watch us making love." The fact that Martine was not
yet her lover was quite beside the point, she would be, and very soon, when she
saw how Angelique had rescued her from this brute.

Now Mike understood, and the knowledge brought him out in a fresh attack of
sweating. Angelique was lesbian. He knew how they disliked men and realised that
it was no good expecting any mercy from her. In fact, she had already proved it
to him in the way she had treated him, and he was very much afraid that she had
not finished with him. In that he was quite right!

"I spent last evening watching you torture Martine, you swine, and now I am
going to give you as good as you gave her. And when she wakes up I intend to let
her have a go at you. I'm sure you'll agree that's only fair."

He shuddered. The idea of being alone, stark naked, spread-eagled, vulnerable,
with a sadistic lesbian and the girl he had tortured scared him witless.

"Oh yes," went on Angelique, "I think you have a most interesting three days
ahead of you. Three days, because it is only 8am on Saturday morning right now.
72 hours in which to punish you for what you did to that girl. I'm sure she will
be able to think up some ways to do that, and if she can't, never mind, I have
got enough for the two of us."

Mike got that sinking feeling in his stomach again. It was all too obvious that
this French bitch had planned all this, and quite meticulously. She had probably
got a whole series of tortures ready for him and there was damn-all he could do
about it. He began to seriously regret ever having found Martine reading that
exam paper! The worst of it was, his own planning had made her task even easier.
It was unlikely that anyone would come to the house because he had let it be
known that he was going away for the Easter weekend, without saying exactly
where. There was no post - it was a public holiday - nor any other kind of
delivery, and the house was too far out of town for any door-to-door salesmen to
come calling. Not that it would make any difference if one did, he would ring
the doorbell, maybe twice, hear nothing, see no movement anywhere, and go away,
thinking the inhabitants must be out.

Angelique moved round behind him and pulled his head up tightly again. Then she
went to the holdall and took out two lengths of silicon tubing, the one
transparent, about a 1/4" in diameter and some 6' in length, the other red,
slightly thicker and only about a foot long. She brought a chair over and sat
down in front of him.

"Do you know," she said, "I do believe your balls are a bit bigger than they
were when I first saw them. I wonder why?" She smirked. "And now they are going
to get even bigger. Let me explain. Here I have a long piece of thin silicon
tubing which I am going to use to tie-up your balls. One tight loop round the
base of the scrotum, with the knot in front, then I am going to take the long
end down and back up again, pass it though the loop and pull it tight. This will
separate your balls from one another. Since it is a bit like rubber tubing, it
will maintain a good pressure on your balls, which will make them ache, but that
is not the object of the exercise. I shall then take the tubing down to this
hook screwed into the floor, between your feet, and pull it tight. The result
will be two balls encased in a very tightly-stretched scrotum, all nice and
shiny, pulled forward slightly by the tubing. Two already very tender balls.
Presenting themselves for a beating, just as you presented Martine's ass. I can
guarantee that when I have finished with them, they will have swollen up quite a
bit more!"

At this Mike started to struggle wildly, trying to get lose from his bonds. This
cow was going to beat his balls! He panicked, tugging madly at the cords which
held him. The cords didn't give an inch. He twisted and turned, searching
desperately to escape. He had seen this sort of thing done in a video on a site
on the Net he had subscribed to, and he had been surprised to think of anyone
doing that for money. In fact the whole thing had been so obviously terribly
painful that he had suspected that the actor was in fact not a willing
participant. He knew that there was a lot of criminal activity mixed up with the
video porn scene and he suspected that what he had seen had been a settling of
accounts. By now he was sweating profusely, and if he had been able to speak he
would have been more than willing to plead with her not to do it.

Angelique was delighted with his reaction. It was just as Monique had told her:

"You have two options, darling. One is to blindfold them and tell them nothing.
The first thing they know about it is when you start the treatment. The second
is to explain it all to them first, slowly and in detail. That way they suffer
twice, first of all the metal agony of knowing what's coming and of knowing
there's no escape, and secondly the actual physical pain. It's up to you, and
the circumstances, which one you use."

Angelique had decided that explaining first would work well with Mike. He was
intelligent and would understand exactly what was happening. In addition, the
way he had organised the weekend with Martine, the torture chamber, the
instruments and so-on, proved that he had a vivid imagination. She figured that
knowing what was going to be done to him would be really horrible. And the way
he was jerking himself around, trying vainly to get free, proved the validity of
her supposition.

Making a slip-knot in the silicon tubing, she reached out and took his balls in
her hand. This was the signal for even more frenzied struggling to get free, but
it was all to no avail, he remained held securely by the cords.

"Here we go, then," she said, slipping the loop over them and pulling it
reasonably tight. Then she poked the loose end up through the loop, pulled the
latter tighter and then pulled the whole length of tubing through, until it came
to press on the skin of his scrotum between the two testicles. As she pulled
tighter and tighter it pressed the sack up in between them separating them. She
didn't pull it too tight, because too much pain at this stage would detract from
the pain he would feel when she started the beating.

The last thing was to poke the end of the tubing through the ring in the
floorboard, pull it fairly tight and tie it securely. As she had told him it
would, this pulled his balls down at the same time as it thrust them forwards,
as though they were offering themselves up to her. Whilst he could move a bit,
the range of movement was quite limited, so she knew she would have no problem
hitting them where she wanted to.

"There," she said, "what a beautiful sight, it's a pity you can't see for
yourself. They are all nice and tight, sticking out, just asking to be beaten.
But don't worry, the piece of silicone rubber tubing I am going to beat them
with leaves no marks!"

Mike shook his head wildly, in an absolute agony of fear. His whole body was
trembling violently in anticipation of the coming ordeal.

"Before we start," said Angelique, sadistically, "I think I will go and see if
Martine has come round yet. You will excuse me, won't you? Don't go away now,
will you!", and with a little laugh she left the room, closing the door behind
her.

The cow! The bitch! The cunt! Mike swore silently behind the plugged tube-gag,
wrestling again with his bonds. She had left him deliberately, knowing he would
spend the time anticipating what she was going to do to him. He tried screaming
for help, but it was no good. His balls ached with the previous treatments, with
the constriction and with the tension of the silicon dragging them towards the
floor. Christ! She must be mad, the stupid cow, she could damage him
permanently! He was on the point of tears, and he hadn't cried for a long time.
He was sorry for what he had done to Martine, he shouldn't have done it, please
don't beat my balls, not my balls, please, please, please don't, pleeeese!

Chpt 10.

Martine stirred restlessly. The dream was a vivid one. She was lying naked at
the side of the private swimming pool, and he was looking down at her, a cock
the size of a large cucumber swaying from his groin, dripping precum onto her
smooth thighs. The sun was warm on her skin, the cock looked nice, but she
wondered if she could take something that size without hurting. She crossed her
legs, squeezing one thigh hard against the other, the sensation in the pelvic
region spreading up through her stomach. He bent over her, that big organ
swooping down to brush lightly over her belly. He reached down and touched her
face...and she awoke, to see not a man's but a woman's face bending over her, a
hand stroking her cheek.

Startled, she tried to sit up, but found that one hand and foot were tied to the
corners of the bed. She tried to speak, but was prevented from doing so by the
tape across her mouth. She was confused, and scared. Memory came flooding back;
Mike beating her ass, massaging her breasts, shaving her, force-feeding her -
she trembled. But what was going on - the person bending over her wasn't Mike'.
At least, she thought it wasn't, but the face was covered by a mask. As her eyes
focused better, she saw the long hair and, lower down, the breasts trying to
escape from their thin, black vinyl covering. Who on earth was this? She
trembled. She had thought that only Mike was going to punish her, but now it
looked as though he had brought in a female friend. This was terrible! She felt
so ashamed, lying there naked and helpless. And that was not all - the big jug
of water Mike had force-fed her had had time to work its way through her system
and going to the toilet was no a matter of some urgency. Trouble was, as she was
gagged it was impossible to say so!

She looked pleadingly at the masked woman and rubbed her thighs together,
squirming. Angelique, having seen how much iced water Mike had poured into her
before putting her on the bed for the night, caught on almost at once.

"Toilet?", she asked. The girl nodded frantically.

This put Angelique in a quandary. If she was to let Martine go to the toilet,
she would have to leave her the use of one hand, to wipe herself. But that was
dangerous. She knew very well that she had been deluding herself about how
grateful the girl would be for having rescued her, and about becoming her lover.
The way Martine had rejected her advances in the past told her that the girl was
really not into lesbianism. Whilst Angelique would have much preferred Martine
to make love with her willing, the girl had become such an obsession with her
that she was quite prepared, if necessary, to take her by force, to rape her, if
the term was appropriate, or even better, torture her into submission. Letting
her have the use of one hand would mean that she would be able to free herself
quite easily, and she was certainly younger, and probably stronger, than
Angelique. No, that was too muck of a risk.

She went back into the torture chamber and started looking through all the
instruments Mike had collected and laid out on the long table against the wall.
And there, to her delight, she found exactly what she was looking for, a
catheter and length of tubing. Picking them up, she went back to where Martine
was lying on the bed. Quickly, she put an arm under the girl's waist and stuffed
a doubled-up pillow under her ass. The she grabbed her free hand and attached it
to the other corner at the top of the bed. The free ankle got the same
treatment. She pulled all the cords tight, so that Martine was stretched out
tautly, her hips thrusting upwards, legs well apart.

"Now listen, Martine, I can't take the risk just now of letting you go to the
toilet, but I don't want you to burst. I am going to use this to relieve you,"
and she showed the girl the catheter. Martine stared at it uncomprehendingly,
more interested for the moment in trying to place the voice, which she was quite
sure she had heard before..

"It's a catheter, I am going to slide it up into you. It will let all the urine
run out down this tube and into the bucket under the bed."

Martine shook her head wildly, the idea of what Angelique was proposing to do to
her was repulsive. She pulled at the cords holding her wrists to the head of the
bed, to no avail. She saw Angelique unscrew a tube of Vaseline and smear the
catheter with it.

"This might be a bit uncomfortable," Angelique told her, "but you'll feel much
more comfortable afterwards. Now keep quite still, I've never done this before."

Martine tried to shout at her, "No! No! You must be mad! Leave me alone! Untie
me, please!" All that came out were tiny, incomprehensible sounds that meant
nothing at all.

Angelique bent over her and, with her left hand, spread the girl's cunt-lips
wide apart, thus rendering visible the entrance to her vagina. She was about to
slide the catheter inside when a thought occurred to her. It was obvious that
the vagina was dry and tight, it would be much easier if it were loosened up a
bit. Still holding the lips apart, she licked the index finger of her right hand
copiously and then rubbed it on the quiescent clitoris. When the girl felt this
liberty, she gave an involuntary jerk, thrusting up against the hand that held
her so lewdly. Angelique smothered a little laugh and started massaging that
little pink clit, which almost immediately start turning a deeper hue and
swelling up. She moved from the clit to the entrance to the vagina and very soon
felt that familiar wetness that characterises a sexually-aroused woman.

Martine was horrified. First Mike, now this unknown woman, playing with her,
arousing her, making her wet. It was so humiliating, she didn't want to respond
to the treatment but her body wouldn't listen to her, it responded all by
itself, refusing to listen to her pleas not to. Little by little the feeling
between her legs built up, and she knew that she no longer had any control. Oh!
She gasped, and jerked upwards again, as she felt the tip of Angelique's finger
penetrate her. This was awful!

She's ready for it now, thought Angelique, as her finger slid easily up into the
now-dripping vagina. She certainly is easy to turn on. Picking up the catheter,
she slid it into the orifice, feeling gently and carefully for the opening to
the urethra. When she thought she had found it, she pushed the catheter gently
but firmly up into it.

Martine felt a burning sensation as the steel instrument was thrust through the
tiny ring of muscle that stopped her voiding her bladder involuntarily. It was
very difficult to know what was happening exactly inside her, she only knew that
this invasion frightened her, and that she hated it.

As the catheter found its way up into the bladder the urine ran out down the
tube and into the bucket. Soon, despite the intrusion of the instrument, Martine
started to relax, the tension in her stomach dying away. The relief was
tremendous, she really hadn't wanted to do it on the bed, that would have been
almost too humiliating. When the flow stopped, Angelique carefully withdrew the
instrument.

"There, how does that feel? Better?", she asked. Martine nodded. She wondered
who on earth this woman could be that knew her name, and why she was keeping her
tied down like this. The masked woman put her soft hand on Martine's thigh, very
near her crotch. This movement sent Martine's thoughts flying back in time.

The summer vacation, the seaside and Christine. Martine had been undecided what
to do that summer, and had said so to Christine, her best friend since they had
met, years ago at school and had followed the same studies ever since. Christine
was smaller than her, with short, close-cropped dark hair. Whilst she was not
fat, she did look very sturdy. This came from the fact that she was very well
muscled, since she went in for a lot of sport.

Christine had suggested that Martine go with her to a small beach resort on the
Channel coast, but Martine had objected, saying that she couldn't afford a
hotel.

"So who's talking about hotels?", said Christine. "My family has had a beach hut
up there for the last fifty years, since after the 2nd World War. It's quite big
one, we can sleep in that."

"I thought it was forbidden to sleep in them," said Martine.

"So it is, but no-one takes any notice of the rules anymore. We can use the
toilet in the cafe along the promenade, we can cook on a portable gas-ring,
it'll be a really cheap holiday, and all the sun and sand we want!"

Despite her misgivings Martine was drawn to the idea, and finally agreed to
spend a couple of weeks up there with her friend.

That August had been one of the hottest on record, the sun burning down every
day for weeks on end. They had arrived at the beach to find that there were
several other young folk they knew, and soon a happy band had formed, all of
them in the tiniest of bikinis and trunks to profit as much as possible from the
sun.

The two girls had set up home in the beach-hut. It was not very big, but there
was room for them to make up a double bed on one side, with their two sleeping
bags on it, a table for cooking, and space for a couple of chairs. They didn't
worry too much about the lack of space, they were outside nearly all the time
anyway.

On several occasions they went off along the coast to a small bay, a couple of
miles from the resort. Here they would go up into the dunes, strip off
completely and sun-bathe in private, getting rid of all those unsightly white
patches on their skin. Christine spend a lot of time during those sun-bathing
sessions just looking at Martine's naked body.

The members of the band spent a lot of time playing beach games, swimming, going
to the cafes and generally having a good time. They were young, insouciant,
happy. Everything was fine, right up to the last day, the day they were due to
leave to return to their homes. Christine and Martine were sitting on the low
wall that runs along the promenade. Both were wearing the skimpiest of bikinis,
not leaving an awful lot to the imagination. In fact, they looked extremely
sexy, a fact not overlooked by a young man who was strolling along the
promenade. He came and sat on the wall beside Martine and started to make
conversation, if you could call it that.

"What you doing t'night, then, darlin'?" he asked.

Martine pretended she hadn't heard him. He repeated his question, giving her a
dig in the ribs with his elbow.

She glared at him. "That's none of your business," she said.

"Oh, snooty, are we? Good-looking girl like you shouldn't be running around
undressed like that without a bloke to look after 'er. I'm not doin' anything at
the moment, 'ow about me looking after you?" And with that he put his arm around
her shoulders. Martine tried to pull away from him, but he was much too strong
for her and held her in a firm grip.

"Let go of me!" she said, frightened.

"No way, darlin', if I were to do that, you'd be likely to get into trouble, and
we can't 'ave that, can we!"

At this, Christine got up and stood in front of him. "Let go of her at once!",
she ordered him. He looked up at her and laughed. "Piss orf!", he said,
casually. Christine bent over and slapped him hard across the face.

"You little cow!", he yelled, letting go of Martine and rising to his feet. But
before he had time to do anything else, Christine closed with him, one knee
crashing up into his groin while the top of her head collided violently with his
chin. He made no sound, just folded over at the waist, both hands clutching at
his injured balls. Christine's clubbed fist swing round in a great round-house
blow, finishing up by hitting him just behind the ear. He went down as though he
had been pole-axed.

By this time Martine was also on her feet. She stared at her friend as though
she could not believe what she had just seen.

"Well, that's that, then," said Christine, casually. "But I think we'd better go
back to the gang. He'll probably be rather bad-tempered when he comes round. The
boys will look after us if he tries anything else."

"But where on earth did you learn to fight like that? And what an awful risk you
took, he is much bigger and stronger than you. You must be crazy!"

Christine laughed. "You know very well that I've been going to martial arts
classes in the evenings for the last two years. One of the first things they
taught us was how to look after ourselves in situations like this. My instructor
will be glad to know that it works!"

Martine shook her head, she could never have handled things that way, even if
she had known how to. She was the anti-violent type. For all that, she was
really very grateful to Christine for having got her out of such an awkward
spot, and told her so.

"No problem," said Christine. "Come on, let's go back to the others."

Back with the gang, Martine felt a lot safer. It was not unusual for
good-looking girls to receive propositions, but rarely as brutally direct and as
repugnant as the one she had just experienced. It had upset her and she was glad
that it was over. She really did feel very grateful to Christine for having got
her out of what could have been an extremely awkward and embarrassing situation.

A game of beach-volley was started and she thought no more about it. That
evening the band had decided to have a farewell party in the sand dunes about a
mile to the west of the resort. After a whip-round the girls went to the shops
to buy the food and drink, while most of the boys went off to look for
drift-wood for the barbecue and a big bonfire.

The party was a great success; even late into the evening the weather was hot
and sticky, with rumbles of distant thunder, everyone ate too much and most of
them drank too much as well. Several couples wandered off into the dunes to make
love and around midnight only a handful were left around the fire.

"Come on, "said Christine, holding out her hand to pull Martine to her feet,
"it's all over now, let's get back to the hut."

Martine, who had drunk as much as was good for her, was slightly unsteady on her
feet on the way back down the beach, and giggled every time she nearly fell
over. Once she did fall and lay laughing helplessly on the sand while Christine
tried to get her to stand up. Eventually they got back to the beach-hut. Inside,
the heat was stifling, even with the double door wide open. Tired, and somewhat
dizzy, Martine threw herself down on top of the sleeping bags, still dressed in
her skimpy bikini. The sky was overcast with thunderheads and there was very
little light in the hut. Christine thought about getting her friend into a
sleeping bag, but with the heat there was not much point, and anyway, in the
state she was in it would be quite a struggle to get Martine to do what she
wanted her to. So she lay down on the sleeping bags beside her.

The two girls lay there for a time, silently, each wrapped in her own thoughts.
Then Martine turned on her side, put her arm across her friend and said '"Thanks
for saving me from that beast this afternoon, I really am grateful." And so
saying, she bent her head forward to kiss Christine on the cheek. Christine
however had by then turned towards Martine, so that the kiss came, not on the
cheek, but full on the lips. For an instant they both froze, and then Christine
pressed her lips hard against her friends'. They stayed like that for what
seemed like an eternity. Then, slowly, Christine parted her lips slightly,
allowing the tip of her tongue to slip out and caress the lips pressed against
hers. At the same time she placed her hand on Martine's bare waist, gently
kneading the smooth warm flesh.

Martine didn't know what to do. If she pulled away, she was going to upset her
best friend, maybe seriously. On the other hand, she had, as far as she was
aware, no lesbian tendencies and she was not keen on getting into this kind of
relationship. To put things plainly, she liked the feel of a nice, big cock up
inside her, and that was not likely to happen here. Finally, with the alcohol
she had drunk fogging her senses slightly, she thought "What the hell, if it
makes Chris happy, I'll go along with it for a bit," and she made no effort to
break away.

Encouraged by this, Christine forced her friend's lips wider apart and slid her
tongue into her mouth, flicking it round her teeth until it came into contact
with Martine's tongue. Her hand moved from its position on her waist to sliding
up and down her thigh. Martine, who had had enough of this deep kiss, rolled
onto her back. As she did so Christine's hand rolled across her thighs and came
to rest between them. Martine squeezed her legs together tightly. Sensing that
it was not the moment, Christine leant up on one elbow and stoked Martine's
cheek softly. She bent down and kissed her on the forehead and then on the tip
of her nose. Martine laughed, nervously.

"What's the matter?", asked Christine. Can't we girls have a bit of fun too?"
Her hand traced the outline of Martine's jaw, then swept down gently to cup one
breast in its palm. With her thumb she started to make circular stroking
movements where she judged her friend's nipple to be. She was not far out,
because almost immediately she felt it harden, poking up in its thin bikini
covering. She went on stroking, then rolled it delicately between finger and
thumb. Martine quivered. Bending further over, Christine kissed the hollow of
her throat, then started moving her head downwards, planting little kisses on
Martine's chest as she descended, working towards the cleft between her breasts.
Then, taking a risk, she moved so that she could take the protruding nipple
between her teeth, nibbling gently, then harder. Martine made a little whistling
noise in her throat.

Christine next pushed the material of the bikini up so that the breast was bare
and she could take the naked nipple into her mouth. She started sucking, gently,
then harder, at the same time swirling her tongue round and round the nipple,
which by now was rigid. Martine shuddered violently. She was so involved with
the feeling in her breast that she hardly felt Christine's hand slip down over
her soft belly and burrow under the loose string of the bikini bottom. There,
fingers started to massage the fleshy mound covered in fine hair, and suddenly
Martine was getting a new set of signals. They told her that she was definitely
interested by what was happening, and that she hoped it wouldn't stop. She
pushed her hips up against the hand, trying to increase the pressure on her
mound.

Realising that the battle was practically won, Christine complied, pressing down
hard with the heel of her hand, using her fingers to explore even lower. As they
slipped into the crack between Martine's cunt-lips, she realised that they were
wet, very wet, in fact they were dripping. Martine was very, very aroused!

Christine found the clitoris with her clever fingers and started a deep massage.
Slowly, Martine's thighs parted, as did the thin string of the bikini, leaving
Christine free access. She didn't need any massage cream, there was already more
than enough lubrication from Martine's juices. She ran her fingers up and down,
and as the clitoris grew she pulled it, tweaked it, teased it, until Martine
began to feel a diffuse warmth growing up into her belly from the area between
her legs. The finger went lower, and lower. And found the entrance. And entered.
Martine moaned, loudly, her whole body going rigid as she felt the questing
finger invade her, push, snuggle up inside her, wriggle around, send floods of
sensation into her, through her. Her head went right back, throat taut, hips
pushing, straining at that hand that was working such wonderful magic with her
body!

Suddenly the hand was gone, and in its place, pushing her thighs wider and wider
apart, was Christine's head. The fingers on her clitoris were gone, giving way
to a stabbing, questing tongue which lapped her, driving her wild. The hand
crept back up her thigh, arrived, and this time two fingers delved into her,
opening her, exploring her, deeper and deeper, insistent, imperative. Martine
gave a little cry. The warmth in her belly was spreading right up her body, into
the breasts that she herself was now holding, squeezing, caressing, fondling.
The intruder withdrew from the depths, only to be replaced an instant later by
not two but three fingers. Martine cried out aloud, it felt like she was slowly
being torn apart. And not only did the fingers penetrate her, they set up a
rhythmical to-and-fro movement that threatened to drive her mad, plunging into
her then whipping out. Her body arched up, thrusting to meet the advancing
fingers, to accentuate the piston-stroke, falling away to increase the speed of
the withdrawal, only to rise again an instant later. The movements of hand and
body accelerated, as did her breathing and the speed of the blood coursing
through her body. Now the hand was slamming into her each time the fingers drove
forward and her breasts ached from her handling of them. She took her nipples
between fingers and thumbs and squeezed, hard, harder, crying out as she hurt
herself, trying to match the thundering waves of sensation striking upwards from
between her legs. And then, the dam burst, she was aware of nothing but a
mind-twisting nova of feeling, pervading everything, taking her over. She no
longer really existed, she was a mass of pure sensations, she didn't exist, she
floated, somewhere, nowhere. Her body twisted, arched, shook, she crushed
Christine's head been her thighs, her hands going down to lock in her friend's
hair, pulling it, until Christine cried out in her turn, but from real pain.

Christine extracted herself from those writhing thighs and put her fingers in
her mouth, tasting the musty, acrid bitter-sweet scent of her friend's ecstasy.
Then she put those same fingers into Martine's, open, gasping mouth.

"Suck them!", she hissed, and the girl's mouth closed on them and she felt the
suction and the tongue licking at them.

Martine's orgasm lasted for three or four minutes and the aftermath even longer.
But slowly, gradually, she came down from the heights, back to the real world,
to find Christine's face hanging over hers, gazing down at her wonderingly.

"My word, when you come, you really do go to town, don't you," she said. "I
can't remember ever having seen anyone come like that. That's really crazy!" And
with that she kissed Martine lightly on the lips and then lay down on her back
beside her.

When Martine had recovered a bit, she started thinking. The was she had reacted
to Christine's treatment hand been due entirely to her body, not her mind - she
was definitely not into lesbian sex, even if it had been very effective.
However, she was really very fond of Christine, and it was obvious that now she
was going to have to reciprocate, or cause a hot of bad feeling between them and
she didn't want that to happen. It was equally obvious that after what had just
happened her best friend was going to be in a highly-aroused state, and if she,
Martine, didn't perform, Christine was going to be one very, very frustrated
young lady.

"Oh well," she thought, "Just this once, but never again." And so thinking, she
turned her attentions to the girl lying beside her.

She was brought back to reality and the present by the fell of Angelique's hand
caressing her, thigh, working upwards and inwards towards her sex. The muscles
in her thigh squirmed involuntarily under the stimulus. She shook her head from
side to side. The hand became still, the eyes behind the mask looking at her,
and again she wished that she knew who the woman was.

"If I take that tape off your mouth, do you promise not to yell?" asked the
woman. She nodded.

"I warn, you, if you do make a noise I shall be obliged to gag you again, and
then punish you. Do you still want me to take it off?" Martine nodded again.

The woman lifted one corner of the tape and took a good grip on it. "OK, here we
go, press your lips to gather as tightly as you can, this will hurt a bit," and
with one swift, violent sweep of her wrist she ripped the tape off the girl's
face.

Martine almost screamed, but, remembering what the woman had said, managed to
stifle it. God, that hurt! Fortunately the sting quickly died away.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Can't you guess?"

"No."

The woman's hand came up, the thumb slipping under the bottom edge of the mask,
lifting it slowly. Martine gasped. "Miss Viard!" Angelique smiled at her.
Suddenly the girl's face flushed crimson as she realised her situation - here
she was, spread-eagled naked on a bed with one of her university teachers
sitting beside her, and worse, that teacher had just used a catheter on her! She
turned her head away and shut her eyes tightly. Angelique misinterpreted the
action.

"It's alright, Martine, it's all over now, I have got Mr Granger tied up in the
next room, he can't hurt you any more." Martine turned her head back to look at
her teacher.

"You've got him tied up? But that's impossible, he's much bigger and stronger
than you!"

"So he is, dear, but not as clever. Don't worry, I promise you he can't do you
any more harm. I heard what was going to happen and came especially to rescue
you. He's nothing but a male pig, and we're going to punish him for all the
things he has already done to you. In fact, I've already started punishing him,
now you'll be able to help me."

"But I can't, he's got photographs of me, he threatened to send them to the
President of the University, and he's taken others of me like this, he says
he'll send them to my family and friends," and she burst into tears.

Angelique leaned forward and rubbed away the tears with the ball of her thumb. "
Stop worrying about little things like that. By the time I've finished with him,
he'll be only too pleased to tell use where all those photos are, and then all
we have to do is go and collect them."

"He'll never tell you," sobbed the girl.

"Would you like to take a bet on that?"

"But that means you're going to... to torture him," Martine stammered.

"Well, why not, he tortured you, didn't he?"

"Yes, but... Why are you doing this for me? And why won't you let me go?"

"I want to make sure you understand the situation first, Martine. As you can
appreciate, I've taken quite a risk coming here like this. When I found out what
was going on, I could have easily decided that you deserved whatever it was you
had coming to you, and washed my hands of the whole business. After all, you did
cheat, didn't you. That makes me think, I must persuade him to give me the
proof. Anyway, I came quite willingly, I couldn't stand the thought of what he
might do to you. You know that you are one of my favourite students." The last
sentence was accompanied by a hypocritical little smile. At the same time her
hand, which had remained on the inside of Martine's thigh during their
conversation began its caressing movement again.

Martine's blood froze - she understood all to well the subtle message. Now she
was really in trouble, on the one hand a sadistic male teacher, on the other a
lesbian female teacher, and her in the middle, like the filling in a sandwich!
The hand was moving up, closer and closer to her sex.

"Please, don't do that," she said, in a little-girl voice.

"Don't do what dear?"

"You know."

"I'm afraid I don't, what do you want me to stop doing?" This latter in a
somewhat more brittle tone of voice.

"Stroking me."

"What on earth for? You like it. I can feel your muscles squirming where I touch
you, that's a sure sign that what I am doing is agreeable."

"No! No, it isn't! I don't want you to touch me like that! I'm sorry, but I
can't...I mean I ...Oh!, please just stop!"

"I think you are being very ungrateful, Martine, after all the trouble and risk
I have gone to to save you from that rabid male in the next room. I am quite
sure that if you just lie back and relax, you will soon realise just how
agreeable this is."

"No, I won't! I hate it, It's horrible, it's unnatural, I'm not like that,
please leave me alone. Please untie me and let me go home!"

Angelique's expression hardened. "Martine, let's get one thing straight, shall
we. I came here for you, and I am going to have you, whether you want it or not.
I have no idea whether you are just playing hard to get, or whether you really
don't want me. Whatever it is, you'd better get it into that lovely little head
of yours that you are going to come to me, sooner or later, and ask me to make
love to you."

"Never! I hate you, you're disgusting! You're worse than him!"

Furious, Angelique slapped the girl's face, hard, several times.

"Shut up, you little cow. It's time you started to realise who's the boss around
here!" And so saying, she picked a wiffle-ball gag from the bag on the floor.

"Open your mouth," she ordered the girl. Martine clenched her jaws tightly
together.

Without any hesitation, Angelique's other hand shot out, grabbed a nipple
between finger and thumb, and instead of squeezing started to twist it
violently. The pain was agonising and Martine's mouth came open to scream, but
she never got the chance because Angelique immediately let go of the nipple and
used her two hands to force the gag into her victim's mouth. Once it was firmly
in place, she lifted the girl's head and buckled the strap tightly on her neck.

Then she sat back and looked the struggling Martine. It was obvious that she was
not going to become her lover willingly, but Angelique was absolutely determined
that she would become her lover in some way or other. Perhaps more of the
treatment Mike had been giving her would bring her round. The truth was, now
that she had seen Monique in action and had had the opportunity to do a few
things to Mike, she was really getting a taste for the sadistic stuff, and would
not be adverse to trying some on Martine. The problem was to get the girl off
the bed and into the torture chamber safely. She couldn't afford to take any
chances now.

Get up, she wandered back into the next room and started looking at all the
equipment that Mike had collected for his weekend with Martine, maybe she would
find something useful there. Mike, of course, was still standing spread-eagled,
trembling, his balls stretched towards the floor, but he could wait. In fact,
Angelique thought that it would be very interesting to let Martine see her beat
Mike's balls, it might help to bring her round. If it didn't, no harm done. But
first, she had to get her into the room.

There was a long table along one wall, covered with instruments, pages of
magazines, computer printouts and what-have-you. Rummaging through them, she
came across a vicious-looking nose clip. This was in the form of two flat, round
discs, joined together by a fairly strong U-shape piece of metal with a small
screw through the two arms of the U for locking. From the inside face of each
disc protruded a dozen or so extremely sharp metal spikes, very thin and about
4-5mm in length. Picking it up, she went back to sit on the bed between Martine.

The next problem was going to be fixing it on her, she wasn't just going to lie
there and let Angelique do it. Finally, she pulled a fairly big lock of the
blonde hair together, just above the right ear. To this she tide a cord, which
she led out the wrist cuff and tied off. She did exactly the same on the other
side of Martine's head. Now, if she tried to move her head, she would pull her
own hair, painfully.

Opening wide the clip, she slipped it into place over the central division
between Martine's nostrils and, with a fairly quick movement, pressed the two
discs together. Martine screamed as the tiny spikes penetrate the sensitive
septum, biting deeply. Then Angelique did up the screw, so that both discs were
pressed tightly against the partition, the spikes securely embedded into it. A
thin cord was attached to the U and she had the ideal lead. She tried it out by
pulling on it, after untying the girl's hair. Martine howled in protest, quite
audibly through the wiffle-ball, and her head came up quickly to try and take
the strain off her nasal passage. It was obvious that pulling on the cord would
create sufficient pain to persuade her to do as she was told.

It was then that Angelique realised that whilst she had the means to persuade
Martine to follow her, she still hadn't solved the problem of preventing an
eventual attack. She put the heel of her hand up against Martine's sex and
pushed hard, with a twisting motion, while she thought about her problem. This
was to make Martine realise just how helpless she was, and that Angelique could
do what she liked to her, when she liked.

Finally she decided that the only way to do it was by brute force. Martine was
still wearing the black leather choker round her neck with the D-rings in it.
Angelique untied the cord holding her left wrist to the bed, poked the end of it
through the D-ring at the back of Martine's neck, and pulled. And pulled! It was
an unequal struggle and very soon Martine's arm was draw up behind her and
attached very securely to the choker. Angelique did the same with the other arm,
untied the girl's feet, tugged on the nose-clip lead and quickly had her victim
standing up, ready to move.

Martine made no attempt to resist when Angelique started to lead her back into
the other room, any pull on the nose-clip, she had discovered, was extremely
painful. Her eyes widened in surprised when Angelique lead her to stand in front
of Mike. She took in the spread-eagled posture, the balls tied together,
separated, stretched, and the look of pain and sheer apprehension on her
tormentor's face. She began to realise that Angelique had the upper hand over
the pair of them, and that she was prepared to go to some lengths to get what
she wanted.

"There now, doesn't he look pitiful, standing there like that, waiting for
something to happen to him?" asked Angelique. And then, suddenly, she had a
brilliant idea. She would let Martine feel the effects of beating his balls. She
led the girl round behind him and told her to place her feet wide apart, just
inside Mike's. Quickly she lashed her ankle cuffs to his. The she tied a long
cord to the cuff around Martine's right wrist. The free end of this cord she led
up through the steel hasp on the cuff holding Mike's arm above his head. Then
winding the end securely several times around her own hand, she undid the knot
in the cord holding Martine's arm up behind her and at the same time pulled
strongly and quickly on the cord she was holding. The result was the Martine's
arm was drawn up in the air, her hand coming to rest just below Mike's. She
decided that it would be dangerous to tie-off the cord up there, Martine might
just be able to get at the knot with her fingers and undo it, and that would
never do. Instead, she threaded the cord through the D-ring in Martine's choker
and tied it there. She repeated the operation on the student's left wrist, and
then stood back to inspect her handiwork.

Martine was now spread-eagled up against Mike's back, the only difference being
that she was tied to him, instead of to the eye-bolts in the overhead beam and
the floor. Next, using a series of cords of different lengths, she tied their
two bodies together at elbows, upper arms, chest, waist, thighs, knees and
ankles. The result was that Martine was pressed very firmly against the back of
the naked body of her English teacher, her breasts flattened against his back, 
her belly tight up against the cheeks of his ass. In other circumstances the
girl would have found this position exciting - even now it was very agreeable -
but after what had already happened to her, she suspected that Angelique had not
tied her in this position just for her pleasure. She would have tried to resist,
but it was obvious that Angelique was planning every move before carrying it
out, not taking the slightest chance of letting either of her victims escape.

Mike would also have appreciated the feel of the girl's body pressed up against
him, had he not been too preoccupied with his own thoughts about what Angelique
had said she was going to do to him. With his head held upright by the cord
between the overhead beam and the ring at the top of the gag harness he couldn't
see his balls, though he could certainly feel them!. They ached. Badly. But that
was infinitely preferable to what was to come. He trembled again in anticipation
and Martine, in intimate contact with his body, felt the trembling, though she
had no idea what was causing it. She felt the cheeks of his ass clench and
unclench against her soft belly and the sensation was strange...but nice!

Naturally, working on the pair of them together had not been in the original
plan, thought Angelique, so she would have to improvise as she went along. So
far, she was not doing too badly. Already the sight of the two bodies roped
together was giving her a new idea. She moved behind Martine, put her hands on
the girl's upper arms and started stroking downwards towards her armpits. When
she got to them she changed from stroking to tickling. The girl made funny,
choking noises behind the gag and started squirming around. The movement was
transferred to Mike's body - as the girl moved, so did he, he couldn't help it,
they were so intimately linked together. This confirmed Angelique in her idea.
She slid her hands down the girl's sides to the cheeks of her ass  and grabbed
as much of she could of each of them in her hands. And started to squeeze,
firmly and rhythmically. Martine squirmed some more, not in pain but in
pleasure. She felt quite relieved, maybe Angelique was not going to hurt her
after all. But the teacher's words quickly dispelled her illusions.

"I had planned to beat Mr Granger's testicles with a length of rubber tube, an
extremely painful operation." Mike's hopes were immediately raised by the use of
the word "had", Angelique had obviously changed her mind, that would have been
far too sadistic. If she had gone ahead and done it she would certainly have
done him a lot of damage.

"However, before doing so," she went on, to the accompaniment of Mike's sinking
heart, "I plan to do something else. We mustn't lose sight of why we are here,
all three of us. Why am I doing all this? To punish Mr Granger, of course, for
what he has done to Martine, and to persuade Martine that being my lover is much
better than being treated in this awful manner." She spoke didactically,
clinically, as though she were lecturing a group of students, and this made her
words all the more scary.

"As I was saying, I had planned to beat his testicles next, but I have changed
my mind. I think that it would be better to give Martine something to think
about. My problem is, tied up as the pair of you are, I don't have much access
to Martine's body. Her ass is about the only part of her which is really
available to me. But that has already been beaten, and I hate doing the same
thing twice, it's the sign of an unimaginative mind, and I would not like either
of you to think that I am lacking in imagination! And to prove it, here is an
idea for you. Instead of beating that ass, I am going to massage it. And when I
say "ass", I really mean that, not the cheeks, but what is between them, that
delicious crack and the charming little hole in the middle!" When she heard
these words, as though the treatment had already started, Martine's ass-cheeks
clenched quickly, as though under assault. Angelique felt the action through her
hands, which were still holding Martine tightly. She laughed.

"Yes, I think a nice little massage would do you a lot of good, my dear. The
trouble is, I don't have any massage cream. However that's not really a problem,
because our American friend here has found the solution, as I realised when I
saw him massaging your breasts last night." And letting go of her grip on
Martine's ass, she walked over to the table and picked up the red tube of Deep
Heat. Going back behind the girl, she grabbed a handful of hair, twisted her
head round and held the tube up in front of her, so that she could see it.

"Judging by the way you reacted to an application of this on your tits,
massaging the crack between the cheeks of your ass with it, and especially that
delicate little hole, should produce rather interesting results, don't you
think?. In fact, if you are very good, I might even be persuaded to be very nice
and stick my finger, well anointed, up inside your rectum. And in that case, the
results would almost certainly be, not just interesting, but positively
spectacular!"

Martine was horrified! This just couldn't be happening to her. It would be
inhuman! She shook her head violently tried to speak, but as usual only
succeeded in making funny noises.

"What's that, dear, you can't wait to try it?" Angelique laughed. "Well, don't
worry, it's going to happen any time now." She went back to the table, found a
surgical rubber glove and pulled it on to her right hand, paying particular
attention to her middle finger, making sure that the rubber was stretched
tightly over it. As she passed back in front of Mike, she wiggled her fingers
playfully at him. "Sorry to make you wait, but don't worry, when Martine has
finished thrashing around, we'll come back to you."

Back behind Martine she unscrewed the cap of the tube and squeezed a good-sized
dollop of the liniment onto her gloved finger. With her free hand, she took hold
of one of the girl's ass-cheeks, meaning to pull it to one side so as to have a
clear field of action.

Martine's reaction to this was immediate and natural - she thrust her hips
forward violently, at the same time clenching the muscles in her ass, in a vain
attempt to protect herself. The sudden action took Mike by surprise and his hips
shot forward too, tightening the tube holding his balls. He gave a muffled yell
and automatically thrust his hips backs to relieve the strain.  As he was much
stronger than Martine this movement was very effective, pushing her ass back and
out, the cheeks coming apart, revealing her intimate little asshole. Angelique,
who had been expecting this, took advantage of the situation by immediately
sticking the finger covered with Deep Heat into the crack and sliding it up and
down. The cream acted as a lubricant, making the movement easy. She continued,
rubbing quite hard, working the liniment into the very sensitive skin. Finally,
the tip of her finger, still well covered with the cream, found the tiny hole
and pressed against it. Martine shrieked and clenched her muscles as hard as she
could, in an attempt to stop it entering. But it was no good, the cream
lubricated the entrance and suddenly Angelique's finger slipped inside. Martine
screamed, not in pain, the liniment hadn't had time to take effect, but in
outraged horror. She was no little innocent, sexually, but no-one had ever done
anything like this to her before, it was disgusting!

Having got her finger well up inside the girl's rectum, Angelique decided to
improve the shining hour, first by sliding it in and out rapidly, as though
making love to it, next by bending the tip of her finger at the first joint, to
that she could touch the walls of the bowel and then twisting it around,
massaging as much of the inside as she could reach. After a minute or so of
this, she slid her finger out, pulled off the rubber glove, threw it in the
nearby bin and stepped back to see what would happen next.

She didn't have long to wait. Martine's ass itched, clenched, unclenched, as the
warmth started to grow. At first it wasn't too bad, but within minutes the pain
was driving her crazy. She screamed, and screamed, and then screamed some more,
as the fire ran down the crack, through that incredibly tender and sensitive
ring of muscle, and up inside her. That was the worst part of it, that searing
fire inside her, as though someone had heated a poker red-hot in the fire and
thrust it up her delicate little ass-hole.

She went practically mad with the pain, which was atrocious, writhing and
thrusting with her hips with all the strength of that madness and, because they
were so tightly tied together, Mike was forced to move with her, putting ever
more tension into the tube stretching his balls. Hurting them more. It rapidly
turned into some bizarre kind of wrestling match, Martine, writhing, thrusting,
bucking, trying to get away from the fire, and Mike, trying to keep still to
save his already-sore balls from the pull of the tube. Suddenly, Martine broke
out into a heavy sweat, her glistening skin sliding easily over that of her
involuntary partner, lubricated by the salty liquid, as she continued her
frenzied dance. She was in agony, her existence re-centred between the cheeks of
her ass and the burning orifice. The pain was quite incredible and as the
minutes ticked by it seemed to be getting worse and worse. And not only did she
scream with pain, she screamed with fright. She was scared. Scared that that
tiny hole would be permanently damaged by this terrible treatment. Already she
felt that she had lost all control of it. Scared of what other terrible things
were going to happen to her during this weekend that seemed to stretch out to
eternity in front of her. Oh God, why had she ever been so stupid as to look at
that exam paper! Her toes curled under and all the muscles in her feet clenched,
while her fingers dug into Mike's wrists, as though she were trying to suck some
force from him to help her in her pain. She HURT!!!

Chapt. 11

Angelique, watching this visual display of the girl's agony was both fascinated
and delighted. Fascinated by the effects of the liniment and the unleashed,
uncontrolled power of the girl's pain-ravaged body. Delighted by the result of
her idea - Martine was suffering, and making her partner in bondage suffer in
the process. Two birds with one dollop of ointment, she thought to herself,
almost light-headed with the feeling, the sense of power that it gave her. At
the same time, the writhing naked female body, snuggled up against the man's
back, was one of the sexiest things she had ever seen in her life, the gleaming
skin, the play of the muscles, the violent thrusting of the hips, all having the
most electrifying effect on her. She started to feel the beginning of that old,
familiar sensation in her loins. She was torn between watching the continuing
display, and satisfying herself. Finally she found that the material of her hot
pants would give enough to allow her to slide her hand down inside them to reach
her already-throbbing sex. Soon, she was emulating the frantic Martine, her hips
bucking back-and-forth against her questing, teasing fingers, until the
floodgates open and she was carried away on a shuddering tide of sexual emotion
that left her gasping and drained of energy.

There was no such relief for Martine. Someone had shoved a lighted blowtorch up
her ass and the supply of gas to the flame was far from running out! She was on
fire, and in her vain attempts to escape it she thrust her bucking hips time
after time into Mike's ass, as though she were a man, trying to rape him.

After nearly twenty minutes of this torture the fiery pain started slowly, very
slowly, to abate, until all that was left was an incredible itching sensation in
her anus. She would have given anything to have a hand free to scratch it! She
felt the sweat trickling down her sides from her armpits. Her breathing, which
had been like that of a runner at the end of a fast 400m race, started to get
back to normal. Her toes uncurled and she loosened her grip on Mike's wrists.
For the moment it was over, though she was still worried about the possibility
of permanent damage to her anus. Suddenly her legs went boneless, she would have
collapsed if it had not been for the bonds holding her up, and she burst into a
storm of uncontrollable weeping.

During all this, Mike had been concentrating on moving as little as possible,
despite the frenzied hips trying to force his body to arc forwards. His balls
had suffered in the onslaught, but only moderately. He was much more concerned
about the next act, in which he was slated to play the starring role. Although
he had his back to her and couldn't see what was going on, it was obvious that
Martine had suffered intensely, and he had no illusions about his own fate.
Angelique was enjoying their pain, that was clear, and it was his turn next. He
cringed once again, both physically and mentally.

Angelique, meantime, was slowly coming down from her sexual high, which had
lasted for several minutes. She too was somewhat weak-kneed - after all, this
was the third orgasm she had had in a relatively short space of time, and all
three of them had been heavy ones. The pain of her victims seemed to make them
much more intense than usual. She decided that it would be OK to leave them for
a while, because she really did need to clean herself up.

When she came back, she saw that Martine's head was slumped forward against her
partner's back. Her ordeal had evidently exhausted her, a fact which gave
Angelique yet another idea. Several ideas, in fact.

"It must be Mr Granger's turn now," she announced brightly, "but I should hate
to think of Martine standing there idly and getting bored while I deal with his
balls, so I am going to give her something to do for me." Martine's heart sank
when she heard this, and she shook her head violently. Angelique smiled to
herself, it wouldn't take a lot more of this kind of treatment and the slut
would be ready to make love to her rather than suffer any more of the
indignities and pain Angelique was inflicting on her! She went over to the table
again and picked up a big, thick black vibrator that Mike had been planning to
use that weekend. She held it up, so that they could both see it.

"Martine is going to look after this for me," she said, and, bending down, she
started to caress the inside of the girl's thighs, high up near her sex. Once
again Martine's body betrayed her as, very quickly, and despite her continuing
preoccupation with her anus, her vagina became wet again.

"Ready?" asked Angelique, and she placed the tip of the big vibrator against the
opening. Martine felt it touch her and stiffened. She tried to close her legs,
but of course she couldn't  Angelique slowly pushed the vibrator up inside her.
It was a very thick one, and whilst it did not hurt her, Martine felt very full.
Finally, it would not go any further.

Martine was horrified, this invasion of the most private, the most intimate,
most secret part of her body was awful. She was young, and whilst she was not
exactly innocent, things like dildoes and vibrators were outside her range of
experience. She knew they existed, of course, in fact a friend of hers had one,
and used it on herself, but this first contact with one she found disgusting.

Angelique, meanwhile, let go of the vibrator. Well-lubricated by the juices
which had flowed freely in that tube as a result of her caresses and the
sensation caused by the instrument, the vibrator, which was a relatively heavy
one, started to slide out. She caught it before it dropped to the floor, then
she slapped the girl hard across the ass.

"You stupid little cow!" she hissed. "I said you were going to look after this
for me, and that is exactly what you are going to do. I am going to put it back
in there and you are going to hold it there while I have fun with your big,
brave English teacher's balls. Now listen to me very carefully. If you let it
drop, I'll put it back in again, after anointing it with a good coating of Deep
Heat, and this time I'll strap it in so that it can't come out!

In her befuddled state, the student did not at first take in the significance of
her teacher's words. Then realisation burst in on her slow-moving mind! She was
dripping-wet inside, her juices flowing copiously as a result of Angelique's
administrations. The vibrator was a big, heavy model and the outside of it was
made of a very smooth plastic. How on earth was she going to keep it up inside
her when all it wanted to do, under the pull of gravity, was to drop out? The
alternative did not bear even thinking about! Already she had experienced the
heat and pain generated by the liniment on her breasts and he ass. To have the
whole of the inside of her vagina subjected to the chemical fire of that deadly
cream would be to feel pain, agony, beyond belief. She shrieked desperately
around and through the whiffle-ball gag. "No! No! No! Please, don't do that to
me! Pleeeese!

But it was no good, even as she pleaded she could feel the treacherous
instrument being thrust back up into her, invading her.

"Now, be careful, I am going to let go of it," said Angelique. Martine clenched
every muscle in her vagina frantically around the slippery, well-lubricated
intruder. Her face flushed with the effort. And, wonder of wonders, the vibrator
stayed where it was.

Angelique was well-pleased with her strategy, it was obvious that the girl was
going to have to made a considerable effort to keep the vibrator inside her.
This would tire her, reducing her resistance. It would be a miracle if she
managed to keep it there And if she did let it drop, she would suffer! She
reached out and pressed the switch still visible on the end of the vibrator
which poked out between the girl's pussy-lips. It was a powerful model, the
batteries new, and in seconds Martine's entire pelvic region began to resonate.
She gasped, the feeling was fantastic, and then, just as Angelique had
predicted, caught up in the ecstasy of the sensation, her grip on it slackened
slightly and it moved downwards. Almost instantaneously she re-tightened her
grip, the effect of which was to amplify the vibrations going through her, which
in turn...Martine screamed in terror, seeing at last how diabolical Angelique
had been. To stop the vibrator falling, she needed to grip it tightly, but this
would only increase the sensation, which in turn would cause her to relax her
grip! She started sweating again!

Angelique, meanwhile, had gone back to stand in front of Mike. She put her hand
on his chest.

"Well, Mr Granger, are you ready for your little ordeal," she asked him sweetly.
He trembled.

"Oh, come now, surely a big he-man like you isn't afraid of a tiny bit of pain?
Of course, there's no knowing what the consequences will be, maybe your balls
will swell up and you'll get gangrene, in which case they'll have to cut them
off!"

He roared at her through the gag, pulling frantically at the cords that kept him
stretched out and helpless. God, if only he could get free, he's kill her! She
laughed in his face, guessing what he was thinking.

"I trust you realise that this is all your own fault, if you hadn't been so
horrible to Martine all this would never have happened. In actual fact I've a
lot to thank you for, because I'm really enjoying myself. I don't know when I've
had such an interesting weekend!" It was true. The experience with Monique's
client in St Cloud had first shown her that she had a penchant for sadism in her
make-up, and now it was being solidly confirmed. It was fun having a big, strong
man flinch at her words, and it would be even better to see him jerking and hear
him howling in pain in a few minutes when she started on him. The feeling of
absolute power was tremendous, it sent shivers right through her to think about
it. But enough of that, it was time to start.

She twisted the chair round so that the back of it was towards him and sat on
it, straddling the seat with her legs, leaning over the back. She placed her
right elbow on her knee and started to move the tube in her hand towards her
targets. Too close. Getting up, she moved the chair back a bit, sat down and
measured again. Still a tiny bit too close. The third time was just right, the
last two inches of the tube would fall squarely across his left testicle if she
pivoted her elbow on her knee. Slowly, she brought her hand down until the tube
came to rest on the testicle. Her victim jerked, every muscle in his body going
rigid. Oh, this was great fun, she thought to herself, Monique was so right, you
don't even need to hurt them to make them feel the pain. She was preparing to
hit him for the first time, when she suddenly realised something - his cock, now
somewhat limp, was going to get in the way.

Leaning backwards, she grabbed a piece of thin cord and a big elastic band from
the table and made a slip-knot in one end of the cord. Next she took hold of his
cock and pulled back the foreskin. The slip-knot went over the helmet and was
pulled fairly tight in the groove just below it. She slipped the elastic band
through one of the D-rings in his collar and then pulled it well down, finally
tying the end of the cord to it. When she let go, the pull of the elastic band
lifted his cock upwards, pulling it out of the way. The sensation on the cord
around it almost immediately gave him an erection, which served to reduce the
tension in the band considerably. She adjusted the cord so that the band was
once more stretched out quite tightly. That way, whatever happened, his cock
would always be pulled up quite tightly.

Looking at him she saw that the tension had opened the little orifice in the end
of his cock. Interesting, what could she do with that? Association of ideas made
her think back to the orifice in Martine's ass, and the way she had dealt with
that. She got up and went to the table. Came back and sat down again, holding in
her hands the tube of Deep Heat and a Q-tip. She opened the tube and then rubbed
a quantity of the cream into the cotton-wool tip. This was really going to be
something!

"I have decided that, whilst your balls do deserve beating, before carrying out
that task, we should pay some attention to your cock," she announced. Mike,
whose cock was already stretched out quite painfully, flinched. What devilry was
the bitch up to now!

Carefully, Angelique pushed the Q-tip into the little orifice. With the cream
lubricating its passage, it slipped in quite easily for its whole length.
Angelique pulled it back up and nearly out, and then pushed it back in again,
and over and over, so that it looked almost as though the Q-tip was fucking
Mike's cock. He could feel that something had been pushed inside his cock, but
since he could only see straight ahead, he had no idea what it was. There was no
pain, it was not unpleasant, and he wondered what she was doing.

After a minute or so of this activity Angelique pulled the Q-tip right out and
threw it in the bin. By now the whole of Mike's urethra had been copiously
anointed with Deep Heat. The urethra is possibly one of the most sensitive parts
of a man's body and the liniment was about to do its work. Mike felt the
beginning of warmth in his cock, and cursed. The cow! She had used Deep Heat on
it! Christ, now he was in for it!

He was indeed, as the cream did its work, attacking the sensitive tissue
ferociously, until Mike felt as though someone was reaming his cock with red-hot
wire. He started by yelling, but this soon turned to screams as the fire grew.
This was probably the most painful thing that had ever been done to him,
including Angelique's squeezing of his balls earlier that morning. He had heard
jokes about pissing over broken glass, and this was probably what it was like,
only worse. He couldn't stop himself jerking backwards and forwards, which only
exacerbated the tension in his balls, but, to be honest, he hardly felt this,
the slight increase in pain being masked by the far greater one in his cock. He
pushed forwards and up with his hips, trying to squeeze shut the urethra with
muscles that didn't exist, in his vain efforts to at least reduce the pain.

Martine, whose belly was in intimate contact with the cheeks of Mike's ass, felt
the clenching of his muscles, and was then shaken to the core as he started to
buck and yell. It was obvious that Angelique had done something pretty nasty to
him, and that it hurt, but that was his problem, she had one of her own. When
Mike had bucked the first time, it had taken her unawares and she had
momentarily slackened her grip on the vibrator, with the inevitable consequence,
it had slipped again. She was worried because, whilst she had stopped any
further movement, she was not sure quite how much of it was still inside her. In
addition, the effort of squeezing her muscles round it was beginning to make her
belly ache.

Angelique could see the end of the vibrator, in the gap between Mike's thighs,
and it was apparent to her that Martine was having a problem. About one-third of
the instrument now hung down from between the lips of the girl's pussy, its
black plastic gleaming wetly with her juices. She could imagine Martine
straining every muscle to hold on to the thick black rod which was stuck into
her, and for a moment she wished she had one like that up her own cunt, the way
that Mike was bucking and screaming was turning her on again!

Mike had his own problems. He was sure that the inside of his cock was being
burnt right out and that he would never be able to use it again for sexual
purposes. The burning sensation was incredibly painful, to the point where he
began to feel as though he would be better off without it. However, as usual
with the liniment, the feeling started to wear off after about 15 minutes, and
within half-an-hour he was back to normal. That is to say, as normal as he could
be, with his balls stretched towards the floor and his cock trying to climb up
towards his chin! Normal, but the memory of the pain remained with him.

Angelique was by now quite hungry, so without a word she wandered out of the
room and downstairs to the kitchen. There, after rummaging around in cupboards
and in the refrigerator, she found things to make a light meal. It occurred to
her that she was going to have to do something about her two victims, especially
where liquids were concerned, otherwise they risked becoming dehydrated.

Back upstairs, she undid the cord at the ring on Mike's gag harness, the one
which held his head upright. Another cord was tied round his balls, alongside
the tube, and led through the crack of his ass up to the ring. She threaded it
through the ring and started pulling. Mike had a choice, have her pull his balls
back between the cheeks of his ass, tightening the tube, or bend his head
backwards. He chose the latter option. This was just what his dominator wanted.
She picked up the feeding tube he had used on Martine, greased it, pulled the
handkerchief out of his tube-gag, and started feeding the tube down his throat.
He liked it about as much as his own victim had, but, like it or not, that tube
went slowly down to the pit of his stomach. Once there, she placed the funnel
into the top end of the tube, and poured a litre of cold water down it.

Removing the tube and re-attaching his head harness to the beam, Angelique
repeated the operation on Martine, but, in the absence of testicles, she held
the girl's head back by the simple expedient of grabbing a handful of hair and
pulling.

Straddling once more the chair, she decided that this time she really should get
on with beating those two shiny testicles. Taking careful aim, she hit the left
one fairly sharply with the tube whip. The effect was gratifying. Mike jerked,
trying to fold up in the middle, to protect his balls. His ass went back, thrust
into Martine's belly. She wasn't expecting it and the vibrator slid another few
millimetres on its downward journey. Angelique waited until they had both
quietened down, then hit the right one. Same result. The blows were not hard
enough to be too painful, but there was method in her strategy. She hit the left
one again, then the right one, still using about the same amount of force. A
pause of about 15 seconds, and then she repeated the operation. And again, and
again, about a dozen times.

Mike, though hurting considerably, found that the pain was bearable. He cottoned
on quickly to the rhythm she was imposing and started counting himself. At about
12 he got tensed up, waiting for the next pair of blows, and this helped a bit.

Angelique knew what he was doing - Monique had told him that the victim nearly
always reacted in this way - and she was ready for it. Two more double blows in
the sequence, and then, after the last one, she waited. He counted to 12, tensed
up, and...nothing! He kept counting, 30, 40, 50 - at 60 he gave up, not
understanding what was happening. Several times he tensed himself, only to relax
after ten or twelve seconds. Finally relieved, thankful, he decided that his
ordeal was over.

That was when she hit him, hard! The impact on the left testicle was interesting
in itself. The testicle flattened under the blow, and was driven downwards, the
other one coming up as the sack pivoted. Then it came back up, a red mark across
its upper surface. Apart from that, it looked the same.

She had forgotten to put the handkerchief back into the tube gag after feeding
him, so when he screamed both women knew that he was really in pain. In fact, it
was so bad that it took all his breath away, the scream coming many seconds
after the blow and the rush of pain, when he managed to get some air into his
lungs. The pain was like an explosion, invading both the testicle and his belly.
Although he had seen the video, he still hadn't realised just how bad the pain
could be. It was VERY bad! In fact, it was terrible, and he temporarily went out
of his mind as he realised that this was only the first of many such blows. He
tore madly at his bonds, gibbering in terror, he would do anything, ANYTHING, to
avoid more of this!

Martine was having troubles of her own, the vibrator had slipped down even
further, and she was sweating with the terror in her mind of what Angelique was
going to do to her if she lost it, a supposition which was fast becoming a
foregone conclusion. If Mike kept bucking like that, it wouldn't be long before
her tube was empty once more.

Aaaaaaaeeeeeeh! The right testicle exploded into agony, flushing up, hitting his
brain like a red cloud. He tried with all his might to double up, to try to
protect his poor, suffering Aaaaaeeeeeeeh!
No! No! No! Please! Please! Please! Don't hit me again! Please! Please!
Aieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeh!!!

Angelique, hearing his screams, decided that she would have to be careful. It
was all very well punishing him, but she didn't want to do him any permanent
injury. Not that she cared about him, it was just that if he had to go to
hospital there would be an inquiry and that could cause trouble. She hit him
again on each testicle, not quite so hard, but to him the pain was as great, if
not worse. Monique had told her that each blow sensitised the organ, until in
the end even little taps would be extremely painful. She continued, spacing the
blows well out, taking her time, hitting him a bit less hard each time. That way
he would suffer as much, while she reduced the chances of injuring him.

He screamed and bucked and jerked his way through 15 minutes of pure agony, the
lancing pain seeming to run from the flaming testicles all over his body, and
especially into his head. He was screaming and crying and dribbling all at the
same time, behaving more like an animal than a man. Surely this couldn't go on!
And it didn't. After a few moments, in his half-crazed state of mind, he
realised that she hadn't hit him for some time. Then her head came into his
field of view, she had stood up, it was over. Tears rolled down his cheeks.

"Dear, dear, our brave Mr Granger, crying like a little boy, how touching," said
Angelique, sarcastically. He hated her, as much for seeing him like this as for
the pain she had caused him, the humiliation was intense. She knew this, and
added to it.

"There, there, little darling, did it hurt then," she said in a baby voice, as
though talking to a young child. "Shall Mummy rub it to make it better, then?"
And so saying, she bent down and undid the tube around his balls. The rush of
blood back into his scrotum and testicles after all that time was painful in
itself and he yelled again.

Then Angelique saw the vibrator, lying on the floor. Martine had lost her battle
against gravity, it had slipped out while Mike was shaking her all over the
place. She straightened up and walked round behind the tied bodies. Put her
hands on Martine's sides, slid them in, between the two sweaty bodies, to hold
the girl's breasts in her hands. She pushed herself hard against that lovely
ass, feeling it's muscles ripple and clench against her. Found the girl's
nipples, played with them, felt them become erect, took them between finger and
thumb and started to squeeze. Martine moaned. Squeeze harder. Moan louder.
Harder yet. Louder. Even harder. Scream!

She stopped squeezing. "You poor little darling", she said. "Now you really are
in trouble, aren't you. Just think, instead of making love to me on a nice soft
bed, you are going to stand there, strung up like an animal for the slaughter,
while I prepare that vibrator, cover it with liniment, stick it up your cunt,
push it in and out, wiggle it around, give your cunt a really good coating. Then
take it out, and watch you go nearly mad with pain. Listen to you scream and
scream and scream. You will, because the pain will be so bad. And all that
because you refused to make love to me. You silly little goose!" She squeezed
the big breasts gently, rhythmically, savouring the feeling in her hands, her
own breasts squashed against the girl's back. She shuddered, squeezing her
thighs together, she knew she was close to having an orgasm, but she struggled
for control of herself, fighting the feeling down, saving it for later.

Letting go of the girl's breasts, Angelique looked for the first time at her
watch. It was 7pm already, and suddenly she felt very tired, it had been a long
24 hours, but she still had things to do before she could get some sleep. The
first was to take her victims downstairs to the toilet, the second was to feed
them and lastly she had to secure them for the night.

Undoing the cord that had held Mike's right wrist tightly up in the air for the
past hours, she drew it down and up behind his back, fixing it to the D-ring at
the back of his collar. Then she did the same with his left arm. There was
absolutely no danger in this operation, he had been in that one position for
such a long time that he had lost practically all use of the muscles in his arms
and was as weak as a kitten. He remained upright, held by the gag-harness. Next
came a slip-knot in a thin cord over his balls, the end doubled back to go
through the loop so that by pulling on it she could separate them more and more.
The end of this cord went up through the D-ring at the front of his collar.
Undoing the cord that held him upright, she gradually and progressively
slackened it off, whilst at the same time tightening the one between his balls
and the collar. In this way she ended up with him sanding there, legs wide
apart, almost double over. Undoing his ankles, she tied another cord round his
balls and, using it as a leash, tugged until that he was obliged to follow her.

"Now listen carefully. If you try to stand up you will hurt yourself, badly. We
are going downstairs. If you fall, you will almost surely castrate yourself, so
be careful how you go on the stairs." So saying she led him slowly down the
first flight of stairs to the landing, and along it to the toilet.. Once there,
she opened the door and pushed him inside.

" OK, you've got exactly 2 minutes, at the end of that time I start pulling, and
you don't get another chance for the next 24 hours. Any attempt to free yourself
and you know what is going to happen! " So saying, she untied his left hand. It
was a risk, but she didn't think that there was any real danger of his trying
anything. She moved back into the corridor, still holding the cord, which she
tugged, just to reinforce her words.

Mike decided that he had better take advantage of the opportunity offered, and
used the toilet. The urine passing through the urethra started the fire in his
cock again and he groaned behind the gag, but once started he couldn't stop,
despite the pain. When she said " Time's up ", he came out meekly and allowed
her to tie his hand behind his back to the collar again. With her firm grip on
that cord he didn't have many options, and he was intelligent enough to realise
this fact. But, he thought, sooner of later she is going to make a mistake!

Angelique took him back upstairs and into the torture chamber, where she led him
over to the chair. Still holding the cord firmly, she turned him so that his
back was towards it and then pushed him firmly down into it. Once he was sitting
there she slackened off the cord to allow him to sit upright and then, moving
round behind the chair, attached his collar with cords to the back of it. Next,
she undid the cord between the collar and his balls from the collar, led it down
to the rung of the chair and brought it out behind. Finally his knees and ankles
were spread and strapped to the chair.

"Now listen carefully, I am going to untie your right hand. I shall pull it
round behind the back of the chair. Any attempt to be clever and...", she gave
the cord a couple of painful tugs. "OK?" Mike nodded reluctantly.

She untied his hand from the collar and he obediently, and with some wincing
from the pain of muscles too long cramped into one position, put it round behind
the back of the chair, where she tied it securely to the opposite upright. She
then did the same with his left hand, and followed this with a thick strap
buckled round his chest and the chair. Bending down she stretched his balls
tightly downwards, undid the cord and replaced it with a parachute stretcher.
This particular model was made of leather with rows of rivets, their heads filed
to a point, on the inner surface. A cord attached to the chains of the parachute
was then stretched down and tied to the lower rung of the chair. The final touch
was another strap pulled very tight round his waist and the back of the chair.

Mike was now in a position where any movement was practically impossible.
Vertical movement was out, the only way to go was up, and that would mean
hurting his balls even more than they were already suffering. Horizontal
movement was impossible because of the waist strap. He wondered what she was
going to do next. He soon found out.

Angelique walked round behind the spread-eagled Martine, pressed herself up
against the naked body, cupped the luscious breasts and spoke softly, but
menacingly, to the bound girl.

"I told you that if you let the vibrator drop, I would stuff it up that tight
little cunt of yours covered with liniment. You wouldn't like me to do that,
would you?" Martine shook her head vigorously.

"OK. Now, I'm feeling quite well-disposed to you so I won't do that." Martine
heaved a sigh of relief behind the gag.

"But," said Angelique, "I will only spare you that pain on condition that you
co-operate, OK?"

Martine was not sure what this would involve but anything had to be better than
a burning pussy, so she nodded.

"Good. Here's what you are going to do. I am going to tie your hands to the
collar, behind your back. Then I am going to untie your ankles. You are going to
walk over to Mr High-and-Mighty Granger, in the chair over there, and you are
going to sit on his lap, straddling him and facing him. I am going to stroke
your cunt so that you start juicing. When you are nice and wet, you are going to
lift yourself up a bit and let me put his cock into that wet little hole. Then
you are going to sit down again, so that it is nice and snug up inside you. Do
you understand what you have to do?"

Martine hesitated, then nodded faintly. After all, she thought to herself,
anything is better than liniment in there, and she had agreed to Mike's
suggestion for the weekend in the sure knowledge that, sooner or later, the two
of them were going to end up in that position, or something like it. She
couldn't think why Angelique wanted her to do it, and she suspected that there
would be more pain involved, but it would probably be less than having her cunt
treated to a good dose of liniment, and in any case, what choice did she have?

Angelique quickly did as she had, said, tying the girl's hands behind her. Next,
she buckled a leather strap around each thigh, high up, near her cunt. Then she
undid her ankles and pushed her across to where Mike was sitting strapped to the
chair.

"OK, now do it," she said to the trembling girl. Martine placed her feet wide
apart and sort of waddled forward, straddling the sitting man. When her cunt was
up against his belly she sat down, her legs widely spread across his thighs.
Angelique squatted down behind her, stretched out her hand and started teasing
her cunt. First she stroked the outside of the girl's lips, then the inside, and
finally moved to her clit. Before very long Martine was quite wet and getting
the beginning of that hot feeling in her belly.

"Lift, " ordered Angelique, "spread your legs even wider, and move forward as
far as you can." When the girl was in position, she said "Now you are going to
sit down again, pushing your hips as far forward as you can. But wait for it,
slowly, so that I can get his cock into you."

As Martine sank down slowly, Angelique grabbed the man's cock and guided it to
the entrance. When the girl felt it touch the opening to her vagina she froze.
Angelique slapped her, hard, across one breast. "Down, you little cow, or you'll
regret it!" The girl complied, sinking lower and lower, literally impaling
herself on the now rigid cock. It was not a particularly long cock, but much
thicker than average and the girl felt the walls of her cunt being distended as
it went further and further up inside her. In her sexually receptive state,
thanks to the administrations of Angelique's fingers, it was not unpleasant and
she squirmed slightly with pleasure as she felt herself being filled up.

Mike, too, was quite happy with the event. He had been longing to screw Martine
ever since the beginning of the long weekend, and here, at last, was his chance.
The only reserve he had about the situation was that he couldn't understand why
his colleague was doing this, there was no pain involved, and that was out of
keeping. As the girl settled down completely onto his thighs his cock was buried
to the hilt in her, and he could feel the warm, wet walls of her cunt gripping
it.

Angelique took a long strap and put it over the girl's thighs and under the
chair, buckling it as tight as she could, thus preventing her from moving
vertically.

"Now just listen to me," she said. "I am going to untie your hands, one at a
time, and tie them down at the back of the chair. Any funny stuff and I'll
really hurt you!" So saying, she undid the right hand and pulled the arm over
Mike's shoulder, tying it to the bottom part of the chair-leg. Then she did the
same thing with the other one. Taking hold of the girl's right ankle, she lifted
it until was just under her thigh and wrapped the end of the thigh-strap round
it, then did the same with the other one, with the result that her legs were
doubled up, far from the floor. This way, Martine couldn't use them to lift
herself at all. The last part of the bonds was a strap around Martine, Mike and
the back of the chair, again done-up very tightly. Having done this, she step
back to admire her handiwork.

Mike was sitting in the chair, practically incapable of any significant
movement. Martine was sitting across his thighs, her legs spread about as wide
as they would go, her cunt full of his cock. One strap kept her tied down
tightly on his lap, the other one pressed her hard against him, her breasts
squashed against his chest. His face was buried in her shoulder.

Going across to the table, Angelique selected the thickest vibrator from the
collection on it, greased it liberally with K-Y and walked round behind the
girl. Bending down, she presented the tip of it to the girl's well-exposed anus.
When Martine felt it touch her there she jerked, but the movement was slight.
She felt it being pressed hard against her, and squealed. Then screamed, as the
vibrator forced her anal ring to expand, causing excruciating pain. She tried
frantically to lift herself up, away from it, but to no avail, she had no
purchase on the floor. Well aware of the pain she was causing, and revelling in
it, Angelique slowly pushed the vibrator into the girl's rectum as far as it
would go, and then an inch further for luck. Martine did some more screaming
around her gag, the pain was terrible, caused by the tip of the vibrator
pressing hard against her intestines! Angelique tied a cord round her waist, fed
it down between her legs, with some difficulty, and brought it up the crack of
her ass, where she wound it securely round the protruding end of the vibrator.
Then she tied the end tightly to the cord round the girl's waist, so ensuring
that it could not be ejected. When she was satisfied that her two victims were
exactly as she wanted them, she switched on the vibrator.

Apart from the deep hum of the machine, muted by Martine's body, there was no
immediate result, the two victims remained immobile, as if nothing had happened.
After a minute of two, though, the vibrations inside her body began to get to
Martine, and this, together with the feel of the cock inside her, started to
produce results. She was becoming sexually aroused, despite the pain, which by
now was slackening as her anal muscles became accustomed to the distortion they
were being subjected to. She wriggled slightly, her breathing rate accelerating.
As the feeling grew stronger she tried to hump herself on the immobile cock, but
couldn't move!

Mike was also getting the benefit of the vibrator, he could feel it in his cock,
separated from the machine only by the thin walls of the girl's cunt and rectum.
He tried to hump upwards, and only succeeded in moving half-an-inch or so, far
from enough to start screwing the girl. Added to that was the pain in his balls
as his movement forced the sharp rivet-heads on the inside of the parachute to
dig into his balls, whilst at the same time stretching them even further. He
groaned in frustration as he at last realised what Angelique was up to. She had
coupled the pair of them, and then denied them any possibility of consummating
their union! The cow! Here he was, with his cock stuck up the girl he had wanted
to screw all weekend, and he couldn't do anything about it!

For Martine it was as bad, if not worse, as the vibrator took her to higher and
higher levels of sexual excitation, about which she, too, could do nothing. She
longed for the release of an orgasm, but the way they were so tightly strapped
together made any friction quite impossible. She tried frantically to generate
some motion, but Angelique's plan had been very well thought out, she was held
immobile, as was Mike.

Angelique could see from the small movements what was happening, and she was
delighted. She could imagine the frustration they were feeling, and she knew
very well that the longer it lasted, the worse it would get. Mike's blue balls
would be getting bluer by the minute, until they felt like they would explode,
while Martine, driven to the heights by the vibrator, would be unable to come
down from them. That would teach the silly little bitch to refuse her advances!

She stood watching for a while, then walked round behind the chair to where she
could see Martine's face. Cupping her hands round Mike's cheeks, she said,
sweetly, "Having fun, children? Wasn't that kind of me to let you have a go at
one another? But I'm rather surprised that you're not doing anything about it, I
should have thought that you would be screwing one another frantically by now."
She laughed, a silvery, tinkling sound. "Oh well, that's up to you, I suppose.
Personally I'm feeling a bit hungry so I think I'll just go down and see what I
can find in the kitchen while you two are playing. Have fun!" And with that she
went out of the room and downstairs.

Chapt. 12

Once in the kitchen, Angelique raided the refrigerator and took the result into
the main living room, where she made herself a large vodka and Coke. She was
tired, but exhilarated, the feeling of power that came from tormenting her two
victims was like a drug, she didn't even feel tired. As she ate she thought
about what she was going to do next. An hour or so of their present position and
then two of them would be in an over-heated sexual stew, ready to climb the
walls in their search for relief. Relief which, of course, she had no intention
of affording them! It was really too funny, the pair of them coupled like that
and unable to satisfy their urges. She chuckled to herself. By the time she was
finished with Martine, the girl would be begging to be allowed to lick her to
satisfaction. A couple more torments and her will would be broken, she would be
ready to become Angelique's sex-slave, ready to do whatever her mistress
demanded of her.

Finishing her meal she mixed a second drink, took it to the couch and stretched
out, the glass on the floor beside her. As the effects of the alcohol took hold,
her mind started to drift in a cosy, hazy manner. Suddenly she was back in the
6th form, 17 years old, a good-looking girl with a very sexy body, no lack of
male admirers and no interest in any of them. It was not because she was a
blue-stocking, she was, but rather that she found men, or rather the callow
youths who courted her, rather repulsive. They had no delicacy, no finesse,
their sexual desires far too evident.

The school dance, with the boys in suits, or similar, and the girls in elegant
dresses. The girls far outnumbered the boys, and since she did not want to dance
with any of her admirers, did not want to give them the chance to press up
against her, she soon found that she was becoming a wall-flower. Not that she
was the only one, far from it, around the walls of the schoool gym, suitably
decorated for the occasion, there were many other girls like her. Some of them
were even dancing together in one corner of the floor.

Just as she had decided that she was bored out of her skull and was seriously
thinking of going home, a good-looking girl came over her and asked if she would
like to dance. Angelique hesitated, and then accepted. After all, others were
doing the same thing, so she wouldn't stand out from the crowd, and anything
would be better than the inactivity she had been resigning herself to. She did
not know her partner, who seemed to be older than most of them, 20 or even 21,
dressed in a blue gown with a low decollete which exposed quite a bit of
obviously generous breasts above a tiny waist and long, shapely legs.

The dance was a slow waltz and at first the two of them held one-another apart,
decorously, following the music with concentration. Suddenly the girl laughed
and indicated with a toss of her head a couple near them. The boy was obviously
trying to get the girl's body to rub up against an all-too-obvious bulge in the
front of his trousers, whilst the girl was doing her best to resist.

"Aren't men just too disgusting? said Angelique's partner. "They can only think
about one thing, like animals in rut!"

Angelique was delighted to find that they were of the same opinion where men
were concerned and asked the girl her name.

"Odile, what's yours?"

Martine told her, and as they danced they started to talk, mostly about how
obnoxious the boys were.

You don't go to school here, do you," Martine asked her.

"No, but my cousin is in the 6th form and she invited me. I wasn't going to
come, and then at the last minute I decided to, it's better than sitting at home
doing nothing."

Where do you live?"

"I've got a flat on the other side of town, in an apartment building. It's quite
nice. I work for an advertising company, so I can afford to indulge myself a
bit, and after all, what's the point in having money if you're not going to
spend it."

The dance ended and the two girls parted company, but some ten minutes later
Odile came back to ask Martine for another dance. This time she didn't hesitate.
When it finished they walked off the floor together, instead of separating, and
sat together against the wall.

"Do you live with your parents," Odile asked.

"Yes, but they had to go away for the weekend. They didn't want to leave me on
my own, but the meeting in Paris is an important one for their firm so they more
of less had to go."

At that moment the band struck up another slow waltz and, as if by common accord
the two girls looked at one another and then rose simultaneously and moved onto
the dance-floor. This time Odile pulled Martine very gently towards her so that
their breasts touched. Martine felt something like an electric shock go through
her at the contact, and she pulled away slightly. When Odile made no attempt to
pull her back, she moved slightly towards her partner, breasts touching again.
And again that shock, a very agreeable one, she discovered. They dance for a
while like that, and then Odile moved even closer, so that their hips touched.
She moved slightly sideways so that her thigh slid between Martine's as they
danced. Somehow, every three steps, she managed to push her thigh forward so
that it came into contact with Angelique's cunt, and in addition she contrived
to give it a sliding movement, sliding the firm muscles across the surface of
the girl's pussy lips. After a dozen of these contacts Angelique started to feel
heat rising through her belly, she felt giddy, and pulled Odile close up against
her for support and... something she didn't quite understand. Odile, wise in the
ways of the world and lesbianism in particular, knew exactly what was happening
and rejoiced in the knowledge that the girl would soon be hers.

When the last dance, which they did together, had finished, they stood on the
floor, looking at one another.

"How about coming back to my apartment for a drink?", asked Odile. "I'll drive
you home afterwards."

Angelique hesitated, but only for a moment. After all, her parents were away,
she could sleep-in the next morning, so why not. In any case, this older girl
intrigued her, she wanted to know more.

Once in Odile's two-seater, the hood down, driving through the deserted streets,
Angelique wondered if she was doing the right thing, and was on the point of
telling her that she was rather tired and would prefer to go straight home after
all, when Odile said, brightly, "Here we are!", and turned the car onto a
down-ramp, the big garage door swinging up silently in front of them. She parked
it neatly in its box, got out and said, "Come on then, you can't sit there all
night like that!"

Angelique slowly extricated herself from the low-slung car and followed her new
friend to the escalator. It took them up to the 11th floor, a carpeted corridor
with two doors, one at each end. Odile fished in her bag, found the key,
unlocked the door and held it open. Angelique brushed past her, finding herself
in a big, open-plan space with a mezzanine at one end and the kitchen space
below it. It was beautifully decorated, with a long, low canape against one
wall, deep-pile carpeting and throw-rugs and cushions everywhere.

"Do you want a coffee, or something stronger?", Odile asked her. Angelique, who
was not a big drinker, hesitated, and then said "What are you having?"

Odile smiled and said that she would make them a cocktail. Going over to a bar,
she started mixing the drinks, which she poured into tall stemmed glasses, one
of which she handed to Angelique. Angelique tasted it, cautiously. It didn't
seem very strong, and the taste was very agreeable, and she started sipping.
Odile wandered over to the CD player, sorted through a big pile of discs,
selected a number of them and fed them into the charger. Soft, sensuous music
soon wafted through the room...

In the upstairs room the very air crackled with sexual tension. The two
interlocked bodies strained against one another, each trying vainly to find
relief. Perfumed, sweaty female flesh slid against equally-sweaty male flesh,
breath coming in raucous gasps, muscles clenching and unclenching spasmodically.
The feel of his cock, useless inside the wet tube deep in the girl's body, was
driving Mike crazy! Try as he would, he just could not move enough to generate
the friction he needed so badly to reach orgasm. His balls were throbbing, as
much from the sperm building up in them as from the pain caused by the rivets,
which bit into them every time he tried to move. Martine was in the same state,
the vibrator having taken her to a height of sexual frustration she had never
dreamed could exist. She writhed and twisted within the limits of her bonds, but
just like Mike she was unable to move enough to satisfy her needs. The vibrator,
humming smoothly inside her held her at that high point, never letting up, the
deeply-felt resonance driving her body to ever greater sexual temperature. The
blood hammered in her temples and she squealed and squirmed in anger and
frustration, feeling Mike trying to move inside her. This was worse, if
possible, than the pain Angelique had already inflicted on them!


As Angelique walked into the torture chamber, the atmosphere in the room hit
her, hard. It was like walking into a wall of pure sexuality, her two victims,
one sitting in the chair, the other impaled on his lap, were straining at each
other, sweat pouring off them, every muscle tensed in their attempts to relieve
themselves of the terrible tension that had been tormenting them for the past
two hours. And it was all too obvious that they hadn't succeeded! The air itself
seemed to crackle, charged with a kind of electricity flowing outwards from
their streaming bodies. She smiled evilly to herself, her ploy had been even
more successful than she could have hoped, sometimes there was no need to
inflict pain on order to punish, the softy, softly route could provide results
too.

She walked over and stood beside them. "Well, children, have you had a good
time?", she asked brightly. "You certainly seem to have worked yourselves up
into a right old lather, haven't you!" She laughed aloud. "Oh well, all good
things come to an end, playtime's over for the time being, we have to get down
to more serious things again, don't we?"

So saying, she untied the cord that held the vibrator in Martine's asshole and
pulled it out with a swift jerk, which hurt the girl nearly as much as its
insertion had done much earlier. Then she untied one hand from the back of the
chair and quickly pulled it round behind her victim's back, attaching it once
again to the collar. She did the same thing with the other arm. Next the ankles
were released from their position alongside the girl's thighs, and finally the
strap round her waist.

Martine gave a muffled cry as the muscles in her legs screamed in protest at
their sudden release from their cramped position. Grabbing her hair, Angelique
forced her to stand up and back away from the chair. Martine stood unsteadily on
wavering legs, half-lost in the daze that followed the sexual frustration she
had been enduring. Angelique had no trouble in leading her to the middle of the
room, where she attached the cord hanging from a beam to the ring at the top of
the gag-harness. Pulled it tight, so that Martine was forced to stand upright,
her hands high behind her back.

"Now you just stand there like a good girl, while I attend to Mr Granger,"
Angelique told her, slapping her breasts casually, adoring the way they wobbled
as the fluid in them surged back and forth. So saying, she went over to the
table where she had put her bag and took out a series of articles, which she
carried over and placed on the floor beside the chair. Without a word she knelt
down and undid the cord tethering the parachute stretcher to the chair-rung and
then removed the strap from Mike's balls. That hurt, as the pointed rivets
released their bite on his scrotum.

Grabbing his scrotum between finger and thumb, so that his balls were squeezed
into a compact mass at the end of the sack, she wrapped a thin piece of leather
5cm wide and about 25cm long tightly round the scrotum, leaving his balls
bunched together at the end of it. From a thick sheet of transparent plastic
lying on the floor she peeled off what appeared to be a square of thick white
material, about 5cm square with a piece of electrical wiring ending in a tiny
socket attached to it. This she put on one of his balls, where it stuck fast, it
was obviously self-adhesive. She smoothed it down so that it conformed to the
compound curves. She put a similar patch on the other one. This was followed by
the cut-off foot of a heavy-denier black nylon stocking, which she fastened in
place by the simple expedient of winding a thin piece of cord tightly round it,
half-way up the leather binding and then knotting it firmly. Next she pulled the
stocking as much as possible up through the cord, so that the patches were
pressed very firmly onto his balls by the toe of the stocking material. Finally
she pulled the open end of the stocking back down over his balls, screwed it up
as tightly as possible and tied it with yet another piece of thin cord. She
squatted back on her heels to get a good look at her handiwork.

Mike's balls had disappeared, and in their place was a tightly compressed black
sphere, hanging down between his wide-open thighs. Mike himself could see none
of this, and the manipulations had given him not real hint of what was happening
to him. They had not hurt, but he was aware that something had just been done to
his balls and he tensed himself, waiting for the expected pain to hit him. It
didn't come. Nothing happened. What in the hell was the lousy lesbian bitch up
to now?

Angelique stood up, reached down between his legs and took a firm grip of his
parcelled-up balls. "OK, now I want you to lift your ass of the seat, Mr
Granger. If you don't, in five seconds I am going to start squeezing!"

Mike quickly lifted himself as far as he could, so that the cheeks of his ass
were off the seat. Angelique whipped the rearmost two of the three short planks
that made up the seat, and then told him to sit back down. This meant that Mike
was now sitting on a single plank just behind his balls. She let go of him.

"There, that wasn't too difficult, was it. See, if you co-operate we can get
along fine."

So saying, she squatted back down and stuck two more of the sticky material pads
on the cheeks of his ass. Then she picked up an S-shaped instrument, with a
small metal cylinder at one end of the S and a wire at the other. She anointed
the cylinder with K-Y, put it against his asshole and pushed, firmly. Mike tried
clenching his asshole tightly shut, to resist this intrusion, but the cylinder
slowly found its way in anyway. When Angelique had got it in a far as it would
go, she tied the other end of the S to a cord around his waist.

Kneeling, she took hold of yet another device, which seemed to be a small metal
tube with a spring-clip at the top, and anointed the short tube with some K-Y
jelly. Then she took hold of his cock and slid the tube down into his urethra.
The clip fitted into the groove under the helmet, ensuring that the tube would
never come out unless it was released deliberately.

Lying on the floor were two twin-cable wires, each ending in a hi-fi jacks at
one end and two small banana plugs at the other. She carefully fitted these
wires in a pre-arranged sequence to short wires coming from the various
electrodes connected to Mike's body, and plugged the two jacks into a small,
grey box that fitted into the palm of her hand.

Drawing up a chair, she sat in front of him and held up the grey box so that he
could see it. "This, Mr Granger, is a TENS machine. TENS stands for
transcutaneous neural stimulation. It is a device used to relieve pain, by
sending an electric current through various parts of the body. The tiny current
negates the pain. However, it has been discovered that, when attached to certain
parts of the body, the TENS machine can generate pain. And this is what is going
to happen to you. There are two separate circuits. In your case, one is
connected between your balls and the cheeks of your ass, the other between your
urethra and your anus. The stocking holds the flexible electrodes tightly to
your balls, so that there is no stinging sensation to distract you. Instead, the
pain will be felt IN your balls. From what I have been told, by a lady who knows
a lot about it, it is extremely painful, it will feel as though they are being
squeezed, but at the same time as though they are going to explode.
Simultaneously, your anus will feel like it is on fire. Of course, these
sensations can be varied by this little control, here," and she indicated with
her finger a small knob on the box. "The other circuit is between your urethra
and the cheeks of your ass. I can control the voltage of each circuit
independently. One last point, the machine normally uses a 9 volt battery, which
is sufficient to cause quite considerable pain. However, this one has been
modified to use 2 batteries. As you can appreciate, this make it possible to
administer even greater pain, which is exactly what I am going to do to you. But
before we start, I think if would be interesting if you were in a position where
you could show us, by your movements, just how much you are suffering."

Angelique got up from her chair, walked round behind him and grabbed a cord that
hung down from the beam over his head. This she attached carefully to the strap
around one wrist. She untied the strap from the chair and immediately used the
cord to hoist his hand up in the air, so that his arm was stretched upwards. She
quickly did the same with the other one, then undid the other straps that held
him on the chair and pulled the two cords until he was standing up, arms way
above his head. Cords attached to the ankle straps were then fixed to eye-bolts
in the floor and his legs pulled wide apart. During all these operations Mike
had been powerless to put up any resistance, since his muscles were all seized
up from having been tied down in the same position for so long.

Returning to her chair, Angelique sat down and smiled up at Mike. "Ready to
begin, Mr Granger?", she asked him sweetly. "I think that you are going to find
the next hour of so extremely...interesting!"

So saying, she started, very slowly, to turn one of the knobs on the box.
Initially Mike felt nothing, but then a slight pricking sensation started in his
cock. This slowly got stronger, until he arched forward, as though he was
straining to piss. At the same time his cock swelled up and stood out rigidly
from his groin in the biggest erection he'd ever had. His anus felt as though a
red-hot poker had been stuck up it! Angelique started to turn the other knob. He
felt a tightness in his balls, a tightness which soon turned into a different
feeling, one as though someone was squeezing his balls. The pain got worse, and
at the same time the "pressure" (he couldn't think of any other way of
explaining it) in his cock got stronger. His hips bucked. Martine stared,
fascinated. His balls now felt as though they were on fire, as well as the
squeeze. Suddenly he roared around his gag and came, the cum spurting from his
rigid cock in streams, arcing out and down to the wooden floor, just missing
Angelique, who laughed delightedly, and who turned both knobs a little bit more.
His roars turned to screams as the pain lanced through his most tender parts.
His hips bucked wildly back and forth, as he shook himself, in a vain effort to
get rid of the torturing electrodes. He'd never felt such pain! His whole body
moved, violently, twisting, bucking, writhing. He screamed and screamed, sure
that she was doing him irreparable harm.

Angelique was really enjoying herself. Monique had explained to her carefully
just how to use the TENS machine, and had even given her a demonstration, using
one of her clients as the victim, but this was even better than she had
anticipated. She turned the voltage in both circuits down to a bearable level
and watched Mike's body slump in his bounds as he stopped screaming around the
gag. She chuckled to herself. She hadn't told him, but this TENS had yet another
modification. She turned the power right down, then pressed a switch on the side
of the box and help it down with her finger. With her other hand she turned the
knob that controlled the circuit though her victim's balls, until it was a bit
above what she had already given him. She waited. Mike was beginning to get over
the dose of pain, Christ that had hurt! If she kept on she'd ruin him. Thank God
the bitch had turned the.."Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" There had
been no build-up, she had lifted her finger off the switch and he had taken the
increased voltage directly through his balls and anus. His hips literally
whipped back and forth as he tried to handle the pain. It looked almost as
though he were trying to flick his balls right off his body. There was no way of
explaining the pain, it was way beyond anything he had ever dreamed of, far
worse than when she had beaten his balls. And it went on, and on, and on! His
anus was a ring of white fire. She turned up the other knob, and his cock burst
into fire as well. She pressed the button, and all the pain disappeared,
instantaneously. She released the button a couple of seconds later and his body
whipped again, as he screamed. The scream was quite audible even through the
gag.

For the next hour or so, Angelique played with her victim. Sometimes she would
leave him for several minutes without pain; at others, she would hurt him so
badly that he nearly passed out. The beauty of it all, she thought to herself,
was that she could carry on for as long as she liked, but he would never get
used to it. In addition, it would not do him any lasting harm. Monique had told
her that she had used a TENS on one particular client over several years, quite
regularly, and his wife had recently given him a son.

The sensation of power that the little grey box gave Angelique was quite
astonishing. Here was this big, strong male, and with this little electronic
device she could keep him screaming his head off at will. She stood up, moved
close to him, put her free hand flat on his belly, and released the switch. She
could feel the muscles bunch up as the voltage coursed through his balls, anus
and cock. She pressed the button and felt his body quite suddenly go slack. She
noted that he was literally dripping with sweat from the torture. She turned
each button up a tiny bit, put her hand back on his belly and gave him the
voltage again. And again. Turned up the buttons - voltage - screams - muscles
bunching up - feeling of sexual power. Turn buttons again - voltage - screams -
muscles - power. And again. And again.

It was not just his hips that were going now, it was his whole body jerking,
twisting, muscles contracting violently, a red mist blinding his vision, a
roaring in his ears, on the point of blacking out. She turned up the power yet
again and let it hit him once more. He screamed, body jerking wildly - and the
strap holding his right wrist gave under the powerful contraction! Without
knowing what he was doing, in a sort of intuitive reflex action, his arm swept
down like a striking snake, fist clenched, hitting Angelique with terrific power
just behind the ear. She went flying, pole-axed, out like a light. The TENS
machine went flying, too, and the pain continued to course through him. He
reached down desperately, trying to get hold of the wires going to his cock and
balls, to tear them out. But he could only reach the one going to his cock. He
ripped it away, and screamed even louder. One strange effect of the TENS
machine, even when used to cause pain, was that one channel slightly ruled out
the effect of the other one, and vice versa. As soon as the channel feeding
power to his cock went off line the effect of the other one was even greater -
and all that was now going directly though his balls! He nearly went mad with
the pain and, by an almost superhuman effort, managed to reach down and tear the
wire from his balls.

The pain stopped, suddenly. He stood trembling, tears streaming down his cheeks,
jaws aching, legs wide apart, his balls in their nylon casing hanging down
between them, still aching, hurting as much from the constriction as anything
else. He felt as though he had been torn apart on a medieval rack, every muscle
in his body was aching and protesting, but in a moment of lucidity he realised
that he was going to have to move before Angelique came round - and he had no
idea when that would be - otherwise there was a risk that, in his weakened
state, she would be able to overpower him once again. And he was NOT going to
risk that happening!

Slowly, painfully, he bent down and freed his ankles. Then he unbuckled the gag
and put it on the chair in front of him. Untying the cord around his waist, he
reached behind him with an effort and took hold of the S which terminated in the
electrode in his anus. Wincing, he slid it out and dropped it on the floor.
Finally he freed his balls, taking care to replace the two sticky electrodes on
their plastic sheet - he had a feeling he might find a use for them later. He
stretched, flexing his muscles, feeling them ease up a little. Then he looked
over at Angelique.

She was lying on her side on the floor, facing away from him. He shuffled over
to her and saw from the rise and fall of her breast that she was breathing.
Good, he hadn't killed her, that would have been a nuisance, quite apart from
depriving him of a well merited revenge. Grabbing a piece of cord, he knelt down
and tied her wrists behind her. He was very careful to cinch the bindings and to
place the final knot where her fingers could not reach it. Going back to the
chair, he picked up the ring gag and, pulling her lower jaw down, he fitted it
in her mouth and then buckled the strap behind her head. Lashing her ankles
together with another piece of cord, he turned her on her belly and, bending her
legs up, tied her ankles to her wrists in a classic hog-tie position. That way,
he thought to himself, she would know that she was in real trouble when she came
round. And in addition, a hog-tie becomes quite painful if maintained for any
length of time - and he owed her some pain!

By now his head was swimming, partly with the pain he had experienced but also
from pure exhaustion. That was Angelique accounted for, but what about Martine?
He looked at her. She stood there, her arms tied up tightly behind her to the
collar around her throat, held by the cord that attached her head-harness to the
beam above her. She stared at him, her eyes pleading. But Mike was in no mood to
feel sorry for her, quite the contrary, he was too busy feeling sorry for
himself, and anyway, all this was her fault. If she hadn't tried to cheat, he
would never have suffered as he had never suffered before in his life. No, no
pity for Martine, she was as bad as the other one. Of course, he could leave her
just as she was, but he was not sure how long he would sleep and she might just
strangle herself. Better to get her into a safer position until he was fit to
deal with her. Untying the head-harness, he forced her over to the chair and
tied her to it with several different pieces of cord. That way, there was no
chance of her getting free, especially since her hands were still drawn up
behind her to the collar. He slackened the cord holding them, so that if she
dropped off, she would not choke.

Finally, he was free to think of himself. Gingerly he took his balls in his hand
and felt them. He squeezed gently, and gasped - they were very tender. He looked
down. They were red and appeared to be swollen. The cow! Well they, and she,
would have to wait, the most immediate need was some sleep. Quickly checking the
bonds of the two women, he went out of the room shutting and locking the door
behind him. Downstairs in the front room her poured himself a stiff whisky and
tossed it off in one gulp. And another, and a third. Then, the alcohol taking
effect very quickly, he stumbled back up the stairs to his room, fell into his
bed, still naked, pulled the covers over himself and was asleep almost
immediately.

Chapt. 13

Angelique came round slowly, with a splitting headache. And not only her head
hurt, her back did too. As lucidity returned, slowly, she took stock of her
situation. She was lying on the floor, hog-tied. She was gagged. She was quite
unable to move. And there was no sound in the room. She tried turning her head
to one side; no-one. She turned it the other way, and saw one of the legs of the
chair she had tied Mike to. There was a foot attached to it. Straining her neck,
she saw that Martine was tied naked in the chair, her head slumped forward,
obviously asleep. Of Mike there was no sign. Sluggishly, she came to the
horrible conclusion that, if she was tied up, and Martine too, then the only
possible explanation was that Mike had got free. But where was he? Christ! - her
back hurt! He had tied her wrists and ankles tightly together, so that her back
was bent into an arc. She must have been out for some time, for it to ache like
that. Her shoulders were beginning to feel the strain.

It was obvious to Angelique that she was in big trouble. After the way she had
treated Mike, he would be out for revenge, and she would be the object of it!
She had to get free. She struggled, her fingers trying to find the knots in the
cords that bound her. She found them, but they were tied far too tightly for her
to have any chance of undoing them. She tried anyway, and broke a finger-nail.
That was no good. She decided that she would have to try to move over to Martine
and try to undo HER cords. It was then that she found that movement was
impossible. The effect of her legs being bent up behind her was to hold them
wide open, so that her position was very stable. So stable that it was
impossible to even roll over. And her struggles only made the pain in her back
and shoulders worse. She tried shouting, but the amount of noise she could make
around and through the ring gag was not enough to wake Martine. In any case,
even if she did succeed in waking her, the girl was as securely tied as she was,
so it wouldn't really help. Slowly Angelique began to realise that there was
nothing she could do to help herself, she was in deep shit...

Mike came too slowly. He was lying naked on his bed. As consciousness returned
he became aware of a dull ache in his balls and memory came flooding back. The
memory of the hours Angelique had spent torturing him. And now he was free, and
she was up there, hog-tied, waiting for him! He rolled off the bed, muscles
still stiff, and staggered into the shower, where he spend a good 15 minutes
letting the hot water get the wrinkles out of his body. When he emerged, he felt
a lot better and somewhat more clear-headed. His balls ached less - although he
didn't know it, the TENS machine, whilst it hurt like hell, left no lasting
effects. The ache he felt came mainly from Angelique's rough handling of them,
and the beating with the silicone tubing. He could live with that, the main
thing was that he was free, free from that bitch's ministrations. He would make
damn sure that she never got another chance at him! He would also make sure that
she paid for what she had done to him.

With that thought in mind, he went down to the kitchen and fixed himself coffee
and some museli. With that inside him he turned his attention to what he was
going to do next. The first thing was to get himself dressed in an appropriate
manner - he knew a bit about psychology too! When he had finished, he looked at
himself in the mirror. He was wearing a leather hood which he had bought at a
local sex shop. It integrated a mask which covered the upper part of his face
and his nose, and looked very much like what he imagined a medieval torturer
would have worn. It looked menacing. He was wearing the leather pouch which
confined his cock and balls, though he had taken care not to do it up too
tightly, he was still too sore for any pressure. Heavy leather wrist-straps and
leather sandals completed his outfit. Ready now, he went silently upstairs and
carefully and quietly turned the door handle and pushed it slowly open.

Martine was still slumped in the chair, fast asleep. Angelique was lying on her
belly, facing away from him. He could see all the muscles in her shoulders and
arms, pulled tight as they were by the tension in her legs and her efforts to
relieve her aching body. From where he was standing he could see clearly the
widespread legs, the thin fabric of the hot-pants drawn up into the crack of her
sex and the twin creases where her thighs developed into the cheeks of her ass.
Her head hung low, but even as he watched, she lifted it, in an attempt to
relieve the strain on her neck, and then let it sink down again. He grinned to
himself - she had been hog-tied for nearly seven hours, so she was most probably
feeling quite a lot of pain.

Going round in front of her, he squatted down, grabbed a handful of hair and
pulled her head up until he could see her face. She stared up at him.

"Well, well, still here, I see!" he said sardonically. "How nice of you to wait
for me! I'm glad you did, I'm sure we're going to have a lot of fun together
over the next 48 hours."

The words chilled her and she looked at him pleadingly.

Mike laughed.

"Oh, come on now, you don't really expect to be able to torture me the way you
did and then expect me  not to want to get my own back, do you?"

Her heart sank. Truth was, she had hoped, but it was obvious that hope was a
pretty vain thing in the circumstances.

"No, my dear colleague, after a good night's sleep - which I expect you did not
have - I have just spent the most delicious half an hour thinking up things that
we can do together. Or rather, things that I can do to you. Not to mention
Martine, I'm sure she would be only to pleased to watch, considering the fact
that you gave her a pretty hard time too In fact, I might even let her have a go
at you, I'm sure she'd like to. That apart, I hadn't finished punishing her for
stealing my exam subject, so when I get tired of watching you jerking around
like a puppet on a string, I shall be able to entertain myself with her.
Incidentally, how did you know she would be here with me this weekend? And how
did you get in here? Oh well, never mind, I'm quite sure that after a while you
will be more than willing to tell me In fact, you will be dying to tell me!"

At these words Angelique quivered. She was a physical coward, she hated any form
of pain and the idea of what he might do to her made her feel faint. Indeed, she
would have loved to be able to faint, and then come round and find that it was
all a bad dream. Unfortunately, the pain in her back and shoulders not only
stopped her from doing so, it also told her that all this was all too real.

Leaving Angelique to her thoughts, Mike stood up and went over to the sleeping
Martine. He lifted her head by grabbing a handful of hair, and then woke her up
by the simple expedient of slapping her face. Martine came too with a start, and
stared up at her tormentor, tears already forming in her eyes.

"Good morning, Martine," he said, "I trust you slept well."

Surprisingly enough, she had, she'd been so exhausted after all that she'd gone
through that she had slept like a baby, even though her position, upright in the
chair, was not particularly comfortable. She took stock of her surroundings, and
remembered with horror what had happened to her. And here was Mike, inexplicably
free, dressed like a medieval executioner and obviously ready to carry on where
he had left off. Then her eyes caught sight of Angelique. She quickly realised
that Angelique was as much a prisoner now as she was herself. Hope flared up -
maybe Mike would devote all his attention to her erstwhile torturer and leave
her alone. His next words dispelled her hopes.

"As you can see, Angelique has joined us, so I am sure that I shall be able to
entertain the pair of you as you deserve. Lucky me, two beautiful women to play
with. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a few preparations to make."

Both women trembled at this, each wondering just what he had in store for her.
Whatever t was, they were both quite sure that they were not going to like it!

Going back over to Angelique, Mike untied the cord fastening her ankles to her
wrists. She slumped forward and screamed through the ring-gag as the pain of
suddenly-relieved muscles hit her. It was almost as painful as when her back was
bent. Mike pulled off her boots and then fastened straps to each wrist and
ankle. The right-hand wrist strap he attached to one end of a 4ft length of
wooden curtain rod, about two inches in diameter, leaving several feet of cord
dangling. A second one was tied to the right-hand ankle strap. Next, he grabbed
another handful of Angelique's hair and started to pull her upright. It was very
painful and much as she would have liked to resist, she let him pull her up to
her feet. He tied a length of cord round the hair and fixed the other end to an
overhead ring in the beam above her, so that she was obliged to stand there.
Then he stood back and considered.

Even though he knew he was much stronger than her, especially weakened as she
was from the hog-tie, he decided that he was not going to take any chances. And
in any case, he knew very well that it would be psychologically more hurtful if
he managed things so that she realised that there would never be any chance of
her getting free.

Tying a longer length of cord round her waist, the knot on her stomach, he
pulled the end down, between her legs and up to her left wrist. He pulled the
cord as tight as he could, so that it cut into the crack of her sex, and
fastened it to her wrist. Then he undid the cord holding her wrists together,
being very careful to keep a firm grip on the right one. Taking the end of the
cord that fixed her right wrist to the rod, he attached it to an ankle strap.
The result was that Angelique stood there, one wrist held firmly behind her
back, the other pulled down towards her feet, with no latitude for action. He
then released her left hand, brought it round in front of her and tied it to the
other end of the rod.

The rod had a thick cup-hook screwed into it, right in the centre. A cord from
this to the ring that already held her hair, the untying of the cord to the
ankle strap, a quick, strong pull, and Angelique stood there, her hands above
her head and wide apart, quite helpless. Finally cords were attached to the
ankle straps, led out to rings screwed into the floor boards and she stood in a
taut X-shape, head still held high by the cord in her hair. Standing in front of
her, Mike looked into her eyes.

"So how does that feel, sweetheart?" he asked. "Now you know what it feels like
to be completely helpless and defenceless, don't you. Of course, you're still
dressed, if you can call that outfit 'dressed', but don't worry, that won't last
for long."

Angelique stared at the half-mask, hate and fear battling for dominance in her
expression. From her mouth, held wide open by the ring-gag, a thin trickle of
saliva trickled down her chin. She tried to say something, but all that came out
were unintelligible sounds. She was frightened. In fact, she was scared to
death.

Returning to Martine, Mike dragged her, chair and all, over until she was facing
Angelique, about 3 feet in front of her. Working quickly, with the help of two
more wooden rods, he soon had her in exactly the same position as her teacher,
facing her, the only difference being that Martine was naked.

"You will forgive me if I leave you for a moment," he said, "I need to go and
find a couple of accessories. With that he turned and left the room.

The two women, held immovably, stared at one another. Both were thinking the
same thing, "What is he going to do to me?"

When Mike came back into the room he was carrying a small cradle-type car jack
and a 4ft length of one inch diameter steel rod. These he placed on a chair.

"I thought that, for starters, we would do something collective," he said. "But
first, we need to even things up - Martine is naked, so we'll just have to put
Miss Viard in the same state. Fair's fair, after all." So saying, he picked up
the big shears he had used to finish undressing Martine and swiftly ran them up
the back of Angelique's black bodice. The material fell away and Angelique felt
the cool air of the room on her breasts. Mike put down the shears and cupped one
full, heavy breast in each hand, pressing himself up against the woman's back as
he did so. He squeezed them gently, rolling the nipples between finger and
thumb, not hard, but enough to awaken then, so that they swelled up and
stiffened. Angelique had gone rigid at the feel of his hands on her delicate
skin. Whilst she had enjoyed touching him when he was helpless, it was quite
another thing to have him pawing her. Her lesbian tendency came to the fore, it
has hateful to have a MAN touching her breasts, one of the most intimate parts
of her body. And what was worse, she could feel her nipples responding to her
touch, despite her efforts not to feel anything sexual. Her body was out of her
control, it was reacting to his hands automatically. Mike chuckled in her ear.

"Feels as though you like this, sweetheart."

She shook her head violently in protest, the cord tied to her hair and the ring
in the beam giving her several painful tugs as she did so. She didn't like it,
but she couldn't control her body's sexual response.

Mike started increasing the pressure on her nipples, now that they were turgid.
She felt the pain begin to build up. At first it was a sort of tightness, a mere
pressure on the sensitive points. But this soon changed to pain, a pain which
became more and more severe as he squeezed harder and harder. Quickly the pain
became almost too much to bear and she yelled through the gag, trying to beg him
to stop. But Mike had no intention of stopping, the memory of how she had
squeezed his balls was vivid in his mind and he was determined that she should
feel the same sort of pain, and helplessness. He increased the pressure further,
and she screamed, a quite audible scream, since the ring-gag was not that
effective in cutting off sound. Mike didn't mind, there were only Martine and
himself to hear her, and the screams were proof that his fingers and thumbs were
producing the desired effect!

Then, without reducing the pressure, Mike rolled the squashed nipples between
finger and thumb. The effect was electric, Angelique literally howled with the
pain, twisting her body frantically in a futile attempt to tear her nipples out
of their crushing embrace. The only result was more painful wrenches of her
hair.

Suddenly Mike let go. The rush of blood back into the tips of her breasts was
almost as painful as the pinching. Mike ran his hands down over her rib-cage and
onto her belly, the palms pressing gently against the soft flesh, as he
whispered in her ear.

"And how do you like that, darling? About as much as I liked you doing the same
thing to my balls, I'll bet! And guess what. In a moment I am going to start
sliding my hands back up to your tits. Then I am going to cup them, take hold of
your nipples between my fingers and thumbs, and squeeze them again - harder!"

Angelique tried desperately to speak, to plead with him, to beg him not to do
it, it was just too painful! All that came out were garbled sounds. Mike knew
very well - from experience! - what it was like to be told that someone was
going to do something very painful to you, and then to have to wait for it to
happen, helpless, unable to do anything to avoid the pain. Psychological
torture!

Slowly, his hands crept up her body. She shook her head, hurting herself again.
She felt the palms of his hands cup her heavy breasts and lift them slightly.
Then the finger and thumb on each nipple. She screamed at him in anger and
desperation. Then the pressure came back, the pain flaring up more quickly this
time in the over-sensitised nubs. She started screaming again, this time with
the pain. The pressure was so great that she thought her nipples would be
crushed and damaged beyond repair. But worse was to come; without warning, he
rolled them again, increasing the pressure even more. Regardless of the pain in
her scalp, she twisted and turned within the limits of her bonds, trying to tear
her breasts away from the cruel grip. Her screams were now quite loud, even with
the gag in her mouth. And Mike's fingers squeezed and rolled on! The pain
invaded her whole breasts, so that she didn't feel Mike's hands, only the two
globes of fire.

Martine, standing facing her teacher, was fascinated, and also frightened. Mike
had already given her a taste of what it was like to have her nipples pinched,
though nothing like as severely as what he was doing to Angelique, and that had
been bad enough. Fascinated, because, to all appearances, nothing was happening.
She saw merely a man holding a woman's breasts, in a seemingly loving embrace.
There was no movement, no outward sign of the infliction of pain. But it was
quite obvious that Angelique was suffering, and badly. The contortions of her
lovely body and the ever louder screams were evidence of that. She didn't mind
at all that Mike was hurting her fellow captive, on the contrary, it would serve
the bitch right for hurting her. What she did worry about was that Mike might
decided to do the same thing to her!

Just as suddenly as before, Mike let go of the two nubs of flesh and, just as
before, Angelique screamed with the pain of returning circulation. Martine
stared; Angelique's nipples were swollen to at least twice their normal size and
were purple. She winced, God!, that must hurt!

It did. Although Mike was no longer squeezing them the pain was just as sharp.
Angelique couldn't look down, so she was unable to see her own nipples, but it
felt as though the swine had done some serious damage to them. She gasped for
air, her chest heaving. Towards the end she had been screaming so hard she had
not been breathing properly. She could feel his hands, back flat on her belly
again.

"Please, please God, don't let him do that to me again!" she prayed.

Mike just stood there, feeling the warmth of her body against his own, waiting
patiently for her to calm down, for the pain to fade a bit - he didn't want her
distracted in any way when he moved on to the next act. He thought for a minute
about giving her another squeeze - if he did, the pain in those bruised nubs of
flesh would be quite incredible. But on the other hand, perhaps it might be as
well to give them a rest, he could always come back to them later!

"Tell me, Angelique," he said quietly, "what would you feel about me giving them
another longer, harder squeeze." He felt her body go rigid and a torrent of
garbled screams, pleading and abuse came through the gag. She was terrified,
another session like that and she would go mad, she was sure she would. She just
couldn't take anymore of that terrible pain! At the same time, she knew that if
he did decide to torture her like that again, there was absolutely nothing she
could do about it. She wailed in despair.

Mike laughed quietly in her ear. "I'll bet you're sorry now that you squeezed my
balls, aren't you!" She was indeed, she found herself wishing that she had never
listened outside his office that fatal night, had never known that he was going
to punish Martine, and that she had never had the stupid idea of interfering.

Suddenly the hands left her belly and, before she even had time to register the
fact, his fingers flicked her nipples. It was only a light touch, but the pain
flared up anew and she screamed again. Mike chuckled. He knew, from his research
on the Internet, that her nipples would remain painful for hours yet, and
extremely sensitive for days.

"My, my, touchy, aren't we. No pun intended."

Stepping back, he picked up the shears, pulled the waist-band of her hot-pants
away from her back and slid one blade down inside them, making sure that it was
in contact with her skin. She froze. There came a long, hissing sound, as the
blades slit the material and the waist-band went slack. He moved the blade down,
forcing it up into the crack between the cheeks of her ass. She felt the cold
steel touch her anus. Again the hissing sound, and then the feel of the blade
sliding upwards, pressing into the slit of her sex.

"I just hope I get this right," she heard him say in a casual sort of manner.
"If I don't, the next cut might not be to your liking." Angelique went
absolutely rigid, willing herself to remain perfectly still, but at the same
time her body quivered with anticipation. She could feel the blade invading her
slit, pressing into the most intimate part of her body. She could take that, it
didn't hurt. What had her screaming silently inside her head was the thought of
the other blade, about to close, biting through the thin material and... but no,
the thought was too awful... through one of the lips of her sex!

Sadistically, Mike didn't close the blades, but held the shears tightly against
her, letting the fear build up in her. Then, very slowly, he started to squeeze
the two handles together. She heard the drawn-out hiss again and screwed herself
up against the burning bite of the blade. The sound stopped, and as the
realisation that her worst fears were unfounded hit her, she literally slumped
in relief. This cost her another wrench on her scalp, which was by now quite
sore.

Mike grinned to himself, he could imagine what she was feeling. Carefully he
slid the blade up to the waistband and made the last cut. Her hot pants now
looked like two garter belts, ringing her thighs. Quickly he cut first one, then
the other, and Angelique was naked. Mike moved round behind Martine, cupped the
cheeks of her ass and looked over her shoulder at Angelique. She was worth
looking at. Her up-stretched arms held her magnificent breasts high on her
chest, flattening them slightly, the bright red nipples, swollen and pulsing,
standing proud on them. Her belly was flat and descended smoothly to a small
forest of dark, curly pubic hair that almost hid her sex. Almost, but not quite,
because her outstretched legs parted the slit, giving a tantalising glimpse of
the soft pink membranes within. The muscles in her thighs were taut, as were
those of her calves. She really was something, especially presented like this,
bound, helpless, at his entire disposal. Martine felt his cock go hard against
her ass. She also felt his hands squeezing the cheeks of her ass rhythmically as
he inspected Angelique. It was not an unpleasant feeling.

"Now, I am afraid that Martine is becoming rather bored with all this," he said,
"we haven't been taking much notice of her lately. I think it would be only fair
to let her play too. That's why I mentioned earlier something collective. I've
decided that it's playtime, and you two delightful ladies are going to play at
seesaws."

Neither of the naked women had the slightest idea what he was talking about, but
both instinctively guessed that it wouldn't be a game with much fun in it - at
least, not for them!

Chapt. 14

Mike walked over to a corner of the room, picked up a straight-backed chair,
carried it over to the women and placed it carefully exactly half-way between
them, the back facing off to one side. The car jack, the cradle type with four
little wheels, was placed on the seat of the chair, the wheels hanging down from
each corner. He tried rocking it with his hand, but it was quite stable. Finally
be picked up the steel rod and stood there holding it.

"I think some explanation is needed here, before we go any further," he said,
sounding as though he was lecturing a class of students. The calm,
matter-of-fact tone of his voice was more chilling than if he had given way to
dramatics, it carried much more conviction. "The game we - you - are going to
play is not original, I can't take any credit for it. It was invented back in
the bad old days of the Spanish Inquisition, maybe even before that. It went by
several names, the wooden horse, the Spanish horse, the donkey, and several
others I won't bore you with. Whatever, it was one of the Inquisitors' favourite
methods of persuading so-called heretics to confess their sins, especially
women." Both the girls trembled at this.

"The principle was quite simple, as was the apparatus. It consisted of something
that looked like a vaulting horse, the sort used by gymnasts. There were two
main differences; First, it was much taller, about the height of an average
man's head. Secondly, instead of the top being a broad surface padded with
leather, it ended in a sharp ridge, usually the thin edge of a rough plank of
wood. Looked at end-on, it had a triangular shape, the sharp point at the top.
The operation was very simple. The victim - usually a woman, as I said - was
brought naked, her hands bound behind her back, to the end of the horse. A rope
was tied around her chest and under her armpits. The end of this rope went up
through a pulley on the ceiling. Other ropes were fixed to her ankles. She was
then hoisted up in the air - incidentally, some of the more sadistic torturers
made sure that the coarse rope was tied right over the victim's nipples, so that
when she was lifted up, her whole weight was transmitted to them. I am sure
Angelique will appreciate this ploy."

"Once high enough, her legs were pulled apart and the horse pushed under her.
Then, she was slowly let down until she was sitting on the sharp ridge.
Naturally, the latter was placed so that it thrust up into her cunt. What
happened next depended a lot on who was directing the operation. Some liked to
lower the victim very slowly, so that the pain of the ridge cutting into her
most intimate parts came gradually. Others let her down until she was a couple
of inches above the ridge, and then let go of the rope, so that she dropped on
it with all her weight. Another popular strategy was to lift her slightly at
regular intervals and then let her weight settle back on the ridge. When all
these things failed to elicit a confession, heavy bags of sand and even small
rocks were tied to her ankles, increasing her weight and thus the pressure on
her cunt."

Mike paused for an instant, to let his words, sink in, then went on:

"Of course, when I say 'sitting on it' that is not strictly accurate. Normally
one sits on the cheeks of the ass. In this case, because the widening triangle
kept her legs wide apart, she was not actually sitting, but rather balanced on
the sharp ridge... on her cunt. From what I gather, it was extremely painful."

At this point both women were staring at Mike in horror. This just couldn't be
true! Both were imagining the agony of such a position, of the damage that it
would inevitably do to their bodies. Their thoughts were obvious from their
expressions and Mike chuckled to himself mentally. This was mental torture at
its best!

"From what I gather, the pain was quite atrocious, especially when the wooden
ridge had been deliberately roughened up before use. There are records of long
splinters being driven up into the vagina. These splinters were sometimes soaked
beforehand, in a mixture of vinegar and salt. But even without this
'refinement', it is recorded that many victims would confess to just about
anything, rather than let the torture continue. Not only was there the pressure
of the ridge on the cunt; in addition the labia were squashed between the top of
the triangle and the victim's thighs. Occasionally the pressure was so great
that the labia split open. Apparently, the effects were long-lasting, the few
victims who were released were said to be unable to support any form of sexual
contact for months, even years, after this treatment."

Angelique just couldn't believe her ears, this was monstrous, he surely couldn't
really be meaning to do this to them! She looked around wildly, but could see
nothing even remotely resembling the 'horse' he had mentioned. It wasn't true!
It couldn't be! No, he was kidding, he would never do anything like that, it
would do them too much physical damage - sooner or later he was going to have to
let them go, and such damage would be damning evidence to take to the police.
No, he was just trying to frighten them. And he was succeeding; even after
thinking it through logically she still wasn't SURE that he wouldn't do it!

Martine, for her part, believed every word of it. She could already feel, in her
imagination, the sharp wooden edge of the plank cutting into her sex, the
terrible pain, the damage. She wailed in protest, the sound almost inaudible
around the gag. Please, pleeeese, PLEEEEESE don't do that to me!!

"Of course, regretfully I can't use the real horse" Mike resumed, "for obvious
reasons;" At these words, the two victims felt relief flood through their
brains.

"However," Mike continued slowly, "I think I have come up with a similar
treatment, which won't do any lasting damage, but which will give you something
to think about, if you will forgive me the expression."

He place the steel bar on the round, crenellated pad of the jack, in such a way
that it protruded between both women's thighs, about two inches below their
cunts. A piece of cord ensured that it wouldn't fall off.

"I said earlier that I was going to let you play at seesaws, and this is where
the game begins. Fortunately you are very similar in build and weight, even if
Martine is probably a few pounds heavier."

He stopped speaking, took the lever of the jack in his right hand and pumped it
once. The arm of the jack rose slowly, until the bar was now only an inch below
their cunts. Of course, with the rope holding their heads high, they couldn't
see what was happening, so he undid the cords holding both women's hair to the
rings in the beam, but left it attached to the hair. Looking down, they began to
realise what was going to happen.

"I think another stroke of the pump and you will begin to appreciate the
situation," he said, and pumped the lever again. The arm rose and the rod with
it, until Angelique felt the cold metal touch the lips of her sex. Martine's
crotch was slightly higher, so it didn't quite touch hers. Seeing this, Mike
pumped again, until the steel made contact with her sex. The cord had allowed
the rod to pivot on the jack so that the slight pressure on the two cunts was
the same.

"Now comes the tricky part," announced their persecutor. Bending over, he used
the fingers of his right hand to delicately separate the lips of Martine's cunt.
Holding them open, he operated the arm of the jack carefully, making the bar
rise until it was snugly lodged inside the pink labia, all the while ensuring
that the pressure remained slight. He did the same to Angelique and then stepped
back to admire his handiwork.

The two women, stretched out like a graceful pair of letter X's, seemed to be
linked by the gleaming metal rod which disappeared at each end between the lips
of their cunts.

"OK, ladies, here we go," he said, and slowly pressed down on the lever again.
Now the pressure was more intense and both women rose slightly on the balls of
their feet to relieve it. There was no pain as such for the moment, but it was
certainly uncomfortable, and also very humiliating.

"Now listen carefully. I am going to continue making the arm of the jack rise.
This will drive the rod deeper and deeper into your cunts. It will hurt. In
order to stop the pain, both of you will rise up onto the balls of your feet.
When I think you are high enough, but suffering some degree of pain, I will
stop. I shall then loosen the cord holding your arms above your heads, until the
rod between your wrists is just brushing the tops of your heads. This will make
it very difficult for you to use your arms to support your weight. And that's
it."

The two women stared at him. That was all? Thank God for that, he was letting
them off lightly after all! They saw his hand go down, take hold of the lever,
and start pumping. Just as he had said, the rod started to press harder and
harder against their cunts. He was right, it did hurt! Instinctively both women
started to rise higher on the balls of their feet. Mike pumped again and they
rose higher. And again, until he judged that it would be difficult for them to
go any further. He pumped the jack a little more, just to make quite sure that
they were hurting, and then stepped back and watched.

Angelique was puzzled. OK, it certainly hurt, but nothing like as badly as when
he had tortured her nipples, in fact the pain was bearable. What the hell was
the filthy swine up to? She couldn't believe that this was all he was going to
do to them.

Martine's thoughts were similar, she was in some pain, but it was not that bad.
She too failed to understand.

Angelique began to get a glimmer of understanding when Mike moved behind her,
and, as he had said he would, loosened the cord holding her arms up. She
immediately realised that she had been unconsciously using her arms to support a
part of her weight. She knew this because the pain in her cunt increased quite
sharply.

Martine got the idea even before Mike loosened her cord, because as Agelique's
weight came down on the steel rod, it pivoted on the arm of the jack, forcing
itself ever deeper into her own cunt. When her arms came down, her weight
increased the pressure and the pain in both their cunts simultaneously. Both
women squirmed on the unyielding metal, trying again to get comfortable.

They remained like this for several minutes, looking for all the world like two
nude models posing for some unknown artist. Then, gradually, the pain of
remaining on the balls of their feet started to hit their legs. Martine's thighs
began to tremble visibly. Angelique, who was lighter and in better physical
shape, held out longer.

Soon, the pain in Martine's legs became greater than the pain in her cunt. She
started to eased down, to relieve it. That was when both women realised fully
Mike's diabolical game, and why he had talked about seesaws. As Martine sank
down, trying to ease the pain in her legs, she automatically drove the rod
harder into both her own cunt and Angelique's. The pain in their slits built up,
until both women groaned. Then Angelique's legs started to give out, and, in her
turn, she started to sink down. The pain increased.

Martine was the first to sound off. She screamed as the realisation of what was
going to happen flooded into her teenage brain. If she remained on the balls of
her feet, her legs hurt like hell, If she didn't, she got it in the cunt! She
tried to rise up, but the muscles in her legs sent shrieking waves of pain
through her body and she suddenly sank down onto the flat of her feet. As she
did so, the thin metal rod was driven by the weight of her body hard up into the
apex of the triangle formed by the top of her thighs. And into Angelique's, too.

The two women screamed with pain simultaneously. It was just as though they were
balanced on the edge of a knife-blade. The metal rod, a whole inch in diameter,
was round and it was the thin upper surface that was under the most pressure.
The rounded shape stopped it cutting into their most delicate flesh, but didn't
stop that top edge pressing really hard just where it hurt most.

The fact that Martine had slumped down suddenly on the rod had taken Angelique
by surprise, lifting her almost completely off her feet, so that for a second
she hung in the air, riding the rod.

"IIIeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!" she screamed, as the pain ripped through her cunt and up
into her belly.

"Aaaaaaiiieeee!!" screamed Martine in chorus.

Both women tried desperately to rise up on tip-toe, but the pain in their legs
was too great and neither of them made it. They stood there, every muscle in
their legs outlined and trembling, as the pain in their cunts slowly moved up
through their lower bellies.

Martine twisted, her head now no longer held by the cord, in an attempt to
alleviate the pain. This caused the rod to move sideways slightly, squashing the
left lip of her sex between it and her rigid thigh. She howled in anguish. Tears
rolled down the pain-contorted teenage face. She pulled desperately on the cords
holding her hands in the air, but because her arms were bent, that didn't help
much. And all the time that terrible steel bar was crushing her lips, pressing
up into the opening of her cunt, so that the slightest movement sent waves of
new pain flaring through her body.

Angelique was in pretty much the same state, except that, being lighter then
Martine, the bar tended to lift her more than her fellow-sufferer.

Little by little the two women calmed down, as their bodies became accustomed to
the pain. They stood there, moving as little as possible, suffering, giving out
the occasional screech of pain, but calming down nevertheless.

This, of course, did not suit Mike. Picking up a couple of lengths of wide
bandage, he blindfolded each girl in turn. He picked up a wide leather strap,
moved behind Martine, lifted his arm and brought the strap clacking down onto
the cheeks of her ass. The strap was wide, so the impact was spread over a
fairly large area, but it was quite painful. More than that, it was unexpected -
which was why he had blindfolded his victims.

Martine squealed as the blow landed, and lurched forward in a reflex action, as
though to escape further blows. The result was everything that Mike could have
wished for. As she moved forward the lips of her sex, trapped between her thighs
and the bar, were both rubbed along the bar and, because of the friction,
stretched. The pain was excruciating and she literally howled with pain and
terror. At the same time, because she moved forward, the angle of her body on
the bar changed slightly, it down bit up into the front edge of her cunt,
causing new, devastating pain.

The effect on Angelique was equally great. She had been standing there willing
her body to accept what was becoming almost an acceptable degree of pain when,
suddenly, it felt as though she had been punched in her cunt. She screamed, not
knowing what was happening, aware only of the pain.

Martine, still yelling, tried to re-arrange herself on the bar, to take some of
the strain out of the lips of her sex. In so doing she hurt herself even more,
and also transmitted her movements to it, which were felt by Angelique. The
latter cursed her student, if only the stupid cow would keep still, they would
suffer a lot less! She didn't know, of course, what Mike had done to Martine.
She soon found out. Mike moved behind her and came her a sizzling crack on the
ass with the strap.

The effect was a repetition of what had just happened, but this time initiated
by Angelique. Both women were screaming and moving at the same time, which only
made matters worse.

Mike was delighted, and spent the next 15 minutes giving first one and then the
other a good hard slap with the strap at irregular intervals. They never knew
when nor who was going to be hit next - once he gave Martine 3 successive
strikes without ever touching Angelique. This made it even less possible to
avoid pain, because both of them spent most of their time tensing their muscles
waiting for the next blow on their ass. And the tensed muscles made the pain of
the bar pressing into them even worse.

Finally Mike decided that they had had enough of this, and lowered the arm of
the jack so that the bar dropped away from their cunts. Both women screamed as
circulation returned to the lips of their sex, renewing the pain. Mike stepped
back and looked at them. Neither had yet realised, because of the returning
circulation, that their bodies were no longer in contact with the bar. Both
remained, as far as possible, arched up on the balls of their feet. They were
trembling, sweat dripping from their bodies, sobbing bitterly.

He removed the bar and bent down to examine them. Martine's cunt, shaven,
exhibited a pair of red, swollen lips, puffed up from the pressure between
thighs and bar. He flicked one of them with his finger, and she wailed as the
soft impact sent waves of pain through one of the most sensitive - and
brutalised! - parts of her body. He figured she wouldn't want anyone playing
with her down there for a while!

Angelique's case was different. He could certainly see evidence of bruising and
swelling, but it was half-hidden by the public hair.

"I think," he said, "that we have not reached a real state of equality.
Martine's pussy is shaven but you, my dear Angelique, are hiding your charms
behind a shaggy bush. I'm afraid that I am going to have to eliminate it."

Angelique didn't really take this in, she was still too concerned with the pain
in her cunt, and also the fading but lingering pain in her nipples.

"I see you don't understand. OK, in plain words, I am going to shave your cunt."

Angelique was horrified, how dare he. He shook her head violently in protest.
The only result was to make her breasts, no longer flattened by having her arms
drawn up tightly above her head, flop around on her chest in what Mike found to
be the most delightful fashion. It also made the pain in her nipples flare up
again.

"It's no good protesting, naked I want you and totally naked I intend to have
you." So saying, he tightened her arms up again, and retied the cord in her hair
to the ring, drawing it up quite tautly. This meant that, try as she would, she
could see nothing of her body but a distorted view of her nipples.

"Now, Angelique, you have a choice here. I am going to shave you with this," and
he showed her the same old-fashioned straight razor he had shown Martine the
night before. "Your choice is to stand perfectly still and let me do it, or try
to stop me by jiggling around. The only thing is, if you jiggle my hand might
just slip and cut off something you would rather keep. I don't mind, the choice
is entirely your own."

It didn't take Angelique many seconds to realise that in reality she had no
choice at all. He was going to do it anyway, there was absolutely nothing she
could do to stop him, and if she did move, she would probably get some nasty
cuts. She decided to remain still.

As with Martine, Mike used electric clippers to remove most of the hair, and
then a shaving brush and a perfectly ordinary safety razor to finish the job.
Angelique stood rigidly still the whole time, the image of what might happen if
she made the slightest move whilst that big, infinitely sharp blade was on her
flesh making her quiver in frightened anticipation.

Of course Martine, whose position Mike had not changed, could see everything
that was going on. She realised with chagrin that last night Mike had done the
same thing to her, making her believe that it was a dangerous operation with a
big, naked blade, when in fact he had substituted the safety razor for the other
one, out of her line of vision. She watched as Angelique stood there trembling,
saw her face screw up with anticipation as the blade swept close to her
clitoris, heard her hiss with pain as it pressed across the bruised and swollen
labia, saw the muscles straining as she fought to remain perfectly immobile.

Angelique was more than humiliated, she was mortified. Every lesbian instinct
rebelled as she felt a MAN's hands on her cunt, felt his fingers pressing into
the flesh near her clit, felt them pulling down the lips of her sex - that hurt,
too! - felt the tips of his fingers invading the most private parts of her body.
It was too horrible for words. What was worse was that the result meant that she
was more naked than she had very been in her life. But HE was doing it, HE was
looking at her, HE was handling her body. It was almost more than she could
stand. Even worse was the fact that she was voluntarily helping him by standing
still when she could have been trying to hinder him. But it was no use kidding
herself, she was scared; scared of that big, wicked razor blade that she thought
she could feel scraping over her tender flesh; scared of what might happen to
her if she did move. So, despite herself, she stood still, hating herself for
doing it, tears of shame and loathing trickling down her cheeks. Because she
hated him, she hated him more than she had imagined she could ever hate anyone.
Not only had he taken Martine away from her - she was deceiving herself again,
Martine had never been hers - but in addition he was humiliating her, hurting
her, torturing her, abusing her body. She HATED him!

When Mike had finished, Angeline stood there, her sex on show for all to see,
admirably set-off by her long legs. Just like Martine, her labia were swollen,
puffed up, red but not raw, the skin was unbroken. She looked just like a bitch
dog on heat, and she knew it. Mike's eyes, fixed on her cunt, made her squirm
mentally. The bastard! The filthy SWINE! She swore to herself that if ever she
got out of this in one piece, she would have her revenge, and it wouldn't last
for days, it would take weeks!

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