RAVAGED

Chapter One

       It’s past midnight, now Saturday.  She’s naked, on the bed, only a rumpled, plain white sheet partially covering her glistening body.  The heat wave seems endless, the temperature hovering in the low to mid nineties, occasionally higher.  Mixed with the ever increasing mid west humidity, the muggy nights give little relief, if any.

       

       The small rotating table fan gives little comfort in the flickering shadows as it whirrs precariously on the sill ledge of the open bedroom window.  What circulating breeze it gives off consists only of more heat mixed with the faint stench of the horse stalls in the stable across the gravel driveway.

       Her restless body twists, turns, her long brown hair sticking, matting across her bare shoulders as she struggles to fall asleep.  The cool, actually lukewarm shower she soaked under before going to bed has only mixed with her perspiration as the stifling night drags endlessly on.

       Kicking the tangled sheet off, away from her feet, flipping on her backside, legs curling, her right arm rising above her head, her left hand slides slowly down across her flat stomach, slipping between her sticky thighs.

       Twisting onto her right side, her glistening, bare breasts sway, jiggle, and press together, practically adhering as her naked body arches into a serpentine position on the stuffy mattress.  The wrinkled pillow rest momentarily between her outstretched arm and the side of hr face as she’s relentless in continuing to try to find a more comfortable position.

Frustrated, realizing it’s going to be another long night, she does what she’s becoming accustomed t doing this long, hot summer.  Closing her eyes, sighing, she goes limp, lets her fingers begin t gently massage her freshly shaven pubic mound, barely touching, caressing her freshly shaven pubic mound, barely touching, caressing, circling wider with each motion of her wrist.

       In moments, she’s laying on her back, softly moaning, feeling the tip of her index finger slipping between the puffy folds of her labia, flicking the flap of her moist clit hood.  Pressing her thighs together, sliding her fingers into her slit, she lets her thumb gently, softly caress the engorging nub of her tingling clitoris.

       She can taste the salty flavor of her perspiration as she slowly allows her tongue to glide across her parted lips as she tilts her head back into the pillow.  Several slow minutes pass as her body quivers, occasionally gyrates as breathing slower, softer, her body becomes more comfortable, the heat less noticeable.

       “Uummm… Ahhh. Ohhh!”  Each breath brings its own soft moan.  Each flick of her thumb, poke of a finger brings another twitch of her hips.  The pace gradually quickens on its own.  Fingers flinching, sliding just a little deeper into her quivering, wet slit, her hips begin to arch up off the damp mattress, twist, pressing firmer against her jerking hand.  HHead craned back, neck stretching, her right hand gripping the pillow, pulling it against her shoulder, the side of her face; she presses her index finger toward her thumb, compressing her swollen clitoris.

       “Uumm!… Uuummm!… Uummm!”  Her hips rocking, they twitch in rhythm as she boarders on the sublime, in the full stage of masturbating herself.  Stroking, tugging, manipulating, she’s well past the discomfort for the moment.

       Curling her thumb, finger, tugging, she reflexively presses harder, her nails digging into her sensitive flesh.  “Agghhhh!”

       Her hips flinching, the pain’s not unlike an electrical shock as she jerks her hand away, quickly raising her arm above her head, interlocking her fingers behind her neck, again, she fully awake.

       Legs trembling on the damp sheets, the breeze off the whirling fan flowing across her sweat drenched bare flesh, her breathing’s labored.  She can feel the sticky dampness of the pre cum between her legs, across her thighs, oozing from her quivering slit, mixing with her perspiration.

       Sliding the pillow up from under her head, she tosses it across her face, pulls the sides of its separating cover down over her eyes, ears, gripping the damp material between her clenched fists.  She realizes it’s going to be another long, painfully hot night as she’s again restless, but not for the reason she’s thinking.

       Outside, unknown to her, a man has been standing alongside her open window.  Excitedly watching thru the flickering fan blades, in the haze circulating on her wooden, roofless porch, he’s spent the past half hour or so admiring her nakedness, and the show she’s been putting on, obviously just for him!”

        He first saw her in her tight blue jean shorts, skimpy halter top, riding her horse around the edge of the property.  He’s even seen her once, skinny dipping on the stream in her rear woods, naked, big titties, flat stomach and long legs.

       The best thing is he knows she now lives alone.  The last couple months, especially on weekend’s, he’s spent a lot of time sneaking around the outside of her secluded farm house.  He watches her, usually late at night.  Several times over the last few weeks, he’s snuck right up to her window, watched her, naked like she is now.

       Wanting to do more then watch, he’s found out it takes time to build up the courage. It takes time to prepare properly.  Now he silently stares, transfixed, thinking of how now’s the time, now he’s prepared.  For the past few minutes he’s watched as her naked form’s twisted, turned every few moments, her firm, glistening breasts being seductively swayed, bounced, teasing him.  Yes, he’s even watched that incredible, chiseled body before, but tonight’s the night he’s going to have her, he’s going into her bedroom, possess her.

       There’s just enough light from the moon thru the haze for his eyesight t adjust to the bedroom’s darkness, the shadows away from her bed.  Gripping, squeezing the handle of the brown leather satchel he’s carrying in his left hand, it slides, brushing against the sill.

       She moans while twisting.  He freezes, holds his breath, watches, just for a brief moment as she seemingly irritated, flips onto her right side, her exposed firm breasts again bouncing, swaying.  He can hear her agitated groans, then he relaxes, seeing the fingernails of her left hand scraping down across the rounded curve of her bare thighs as she jerks, unconsciously swats at a mosquito flittering across her rounded hip.

       Rubbing his hand against the crotch of his blue jeans, he feels the hardening of his throbbing shaft.  She’s again taunting, teasing him, her left hand slowly slipping up across her melon size breasts, gently flicking across the nub of her nipple before again sliding up behind her neck.

       Feeling his swollen cock twitching, he stares in anticipation for the moment he can slide the screen aside, enter the room, and use the bag of devices he’s brought just for her.  He can barely hold himself back, anticipating, listening to the rhythmic sound of the circulating fan as she again spreads out naked, lays there, spread eagled, stretching, displaying everything’s she’s got, just for him!

       Even in the semidarkness he ogles her perfect body, athletic, tanned, her nipples thick, hard and glistening, her pubic mound freshly shaven.

       He’s already mentally visualizing later, ropes, stretching her arms, legs to the four corners of the bed, the tight bindings digging into her bound flesh, spending the entire night using everything in his bag on her.

       Still unable to sleep, impossible to get comfortable, totally stretched out, naked above the sheets, she listens to the steady whirring of the fan, oscillating, rattling against the screen, the warm air blowing back and forth across her sweaty, sticky bare flesh, thinking for the hundredth time this summer how irritating it is that the air conditioning’s broken.

       Bowing, she flips one of the pillows under the small of her back, forcing her breasts to jaunt outward, spread toward her shoulders, allowing what draft there is to circulate upwards from between her spread thighs to across her bare breasts as again she stretches out spread eagled.

       Lying motionless, head tilted back on the mattress, she feels the traces of moisture cooling, trickling between her thighs, down the puffy folds of her labia, along with the added pleasure of the circulating air flowing up from between her legs, past her stomach, hardening nipples.

       As the light of the shifting moon begins to shine through the screen, through the flickering blades, reflecting off the wall, annoying her, she tugs the other pillow across her eyes, leaving only her pouting lips uncovered, her elbows up, laying flat on the bed.  The air tingling, whisking between her thighs, she slowly presses the soles of her feet together, pulls her legs upward, knees bending, wider apart, sliding up across the mattress.

       Gripping his satchel, continuing to stare in from the side of the window, he feels the slightest patter of rain.  Thick, random drops splash across his shoulders.  He’s transfixed with the sight of her spread, stretching thighs, her shaven vagina fully visible from between her bare legs.  Glancing up toward the clouding sky, he decides the wait’s over.

       Her eyes remain covered under the pillow as he hesitates, slowly reaching toward the window.  Ever so slowly, he grips the sill, very carefully placing his fingers to the tight of the old style folding screen, sliding it gently to the left.  The fan continues to rattle, rocking, scratching against the metal mat of the screen until he can grip it with his free hand, hold it steady, watching her every movement, twitch.

       Waiting for a minute, a couple minutes, he finally slides the base of the fan across the wooden sill, against the edge of the window frame.  The time’s arrived.  Tiptoeing, lifting his left leg across the low wooden threshold, he silently crawls through the opening, still gripping the satchel in his other hand.  The sound of the fan whirring, now was mixing with the steady patter of the increasing raindrops fill the background as he slowly, stealthily steps beside the bed.

       Looking down in the darkness at her flat stomach raising, lowering, her breasts spreading with each breath, he can smell the bath oil mixing with the mugginess of the heavy night air.  He can barely resist grabbing; tweaking hr rock hard nipples, twisting her bare clit, as he carefully sits the satchel on the floor, reaches into its open top.  Grabbing a clear, zipped plastic bag from the contents, he unzips, removes the soaked cloth.  Unfolding it as he drops the bag on the floor, he glances toward her covered face.

       Hesitating one last moment, his heart pounding, he firmly pushes his right hand down across the pillow, positions the soggy cloth directly over her nose, mouth.  Pressing, pushing both hands firmly downward, he watches her body instantly jerk to life.

       Jerking, twisting, gyrating, she struggles, grunts, kicks as he holds tight with both hands. Letting his body lean over the bed, he presses her into the mattress.  Startled, panicking, her hands claw the air, her fingers scraping at his arms.  Rasping for breath, the stench of the chemicals fill her flailing nostrils, mouth as the bitter taste gags her.  Head whirling, spasmodic, her breasts flail, her hips jerk, twist under his weight until gradually, her shoulders slumping, her neck goes limp, her body relaxes.  Slipping into unconsciousness, she’s his.

End part One

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         

RAVAGED

Chapter Two

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

End Part Two            

RAVAGED

Chapter Three

       Shifting thru the satchel, sitting quietly, he listens to her cries slowly turning to whimpers, watches her shimmering, spasmodic, naked body contorting just a little less in its bindings.  She’s even more incredible, under a light, bound up close, even more then he fantasized after seeing her that day, back at the stream, back in the rear of the woods, naked, but at a distance.

       The sound of the rain has become a steady pattering across the window pane, the ledge, and its rhythm soothing, relaxing, and appearing to him to be an overnighter, as forecasted.

       The room’s still stuffy, but not quite as uncomfortable to him.  Giving her time to somewhat calm down, get adjusted with her painful predicament, he’s also settled down, just about ready to continue with his fantasy.

       Literally helpless, as harsh as the physical pain’s been, it’s not the gravest of issues in her terrified mind.  Her immediate thoughts are centered on surviving whatever’s happening to her.  Realizing that whatever’s been rammed inside her bowels, though painful, it seems the discomfort’s not meant to be as much an excruciating type pain as a humiliating one.        

       With her struggles to free herself useless, impossible, she’s trying to concentrate on breathing, to somehow block out her anxiety, to find a semblance of calmness, basically to survive.

       Reaching toward her arched torso, letting the palm of his left hand rest lightly across the bottom curve of the firm, symmetrical mound of her closest breast, he leans above her.  Slowly compressing his fist, the areola bulges above his circling forefinger, thumb, a bead of perspiration tracing off the nipple as he gently twists.  Sliding his hand across, over the slippery flesh, its fullness fills his roving hand, the hardening, thickening nipple tickling his palm.

       Feeling her breast gripped, manipulated, she reflexively jerks, sensing it’s a hand groping her naked flesh.  Struggling with her tormented thoughts, she tries to force herself to remain still, even with her nipple tingling, the sensation rippling throughout her breast.

       Reaching into the satchel with his free hand, glancing in, picking out a chrome clover clamp, he squeezes it between his thumb, forefinger.  Watching it open, close, turning it, feeling the firm, if not stiff tension of its spring, he rests it across the top of her other bare nipple, watches that breast quiver as the areola, instantly puckering from the coolness of the metal, inverts beneath the weight.

       Sliding his hand away from her left breast, he lets his fingers drift gently across her damp, slippery coated sternum, down into the concave slope of her flexing stomach as it hollows with each rasping breath.  Reaching her inverted navel, he flicks his index finger across, around its moist flesh, watching it palpitate, her abs rippling in waves with each completed circle.

       Slipping his free hand down between her thighs, he lets the tip of her forefinger brush, flick, and slide across the nub of her moist clit; watching it twitch, spring back with each probative touch.

       Unable to control her reflexes, she struggles, failing to remain still, feeling her stomach twitching, her hips bucking as her most sensitive flesh is being explored, probed.

       Tracing down across her hairless pubic mound, his index finger comes to rest against her glistening vulva.  Compressing his thumb, index finger against the twin folds of her labia, gently twisting, tugging, he’s aroused by the feel of the soft, moist mound of flesh as he manipulates it, watches her hips noticeably spasm, the crystal tip of the butt plug sparkling, barely poking out from the rim of her stretched anus underneath.

       Being denied of most of her senses, she can’t help feeling the tickling, tingling, stirring of her sensitive flesh, the weight of the cool metal laying across, pressing into her right nipple, the light touch of his finger probing,  tracing down across her thrust out torso, her vagina flicked, tugged, practically masturbated, not to forget the object stuffing her rectum.

       Knowing her bound, naked body’s physically defenseless, mentally she still tries to hide, to isolate herself in her darkness, her immobile state, frightened, confused, yet feeling betrayed by her own body’s sensations, reacting to the roaming hands.

       Feeling his excitement mount, reaching back into the satchel, he picks up a couple more matching clamps.  Laying one across her left nipple, watching with interest as it too partially compresses into that tan areola, he slides the third one down between her spread hips.  Pinching, tugging the nub of her engorging clit outward from her twitching thighs, the clamp spreads wider between his tensing fingers until the metal prongs are forced completely open.

       Slipping the tips of the clamp into her gapping slit, feeling it brush across the edges of his finger, thumb, he takes a breath.  Satisfied that the springs are adjusted to “firm” he lets its spread ends rest across the swelling flesh of her stretched clit.  Taking another breath….. He releases it.

       “Aaaaaggggggghhhh!!!”  The incredible pain surges thru her bucking body, immeasurable to what she’s been feeling.  From her spread thighs, up thru her womb, she feels an unbearable lightening bolt.  She’s positive her clit’s been crushed in some sort of vice.  “Aaaaaggggggghhhh!!!”  Her gasp of breath’s followed by another guttural, rasping scream.

       Jerking, twisting, pounding the back of her covered head against the mattress, nearly hysterical, her breasts flail, toes curl, her thighs shake, her fingers stiffen, flex, curl, dig into the palms of her out turned hands flattened between the mattress and her lurching back.

       Unprepared by her instant reaction, practically jumping off the chair, he presses one hand down across her pubic mound, the other up against her sternum.  Leaning down against her, he forces her flailing body into the surface of the flattening mattress as the other pair of clamps bounce off her breasts, across the bed.

       “Aaaaaggggggghhhh!!!”  Another rasping breath, another guttural scream emits from her throat.  Spittle flicks out from the “O” ring, the saliva collecting across her mask, breasts, and his arm.

       Excited, reaching across, grabbing the clamp off the mattress closest to him, he pinches her left nipple, twists, rams the open prongs over that tender flesh, and releases it.

       “Uuuummmppphhhh!!!”  Practically hoarse, animalistic grunts spew from the “O” ring, her body again lurching, bucking up from the creaking bed.

       The spreading pain’s unimaginable to her.  Her clit, nipple both burn, seared as if branded, her mind’s unable to comprehend what’s being used to cause such punishment.  Everything’s becoming a blur in her solitude of hellish darkness.

       Heart pounding in his chest, he struggles to hold her down, watching her body contorting unimaginably, even in her bindings, the clamp between her thighs jerking, flashing, twisting off the nub of her tortured flesh, only matched by the nipple clamp’s thrashings.

       Feeling her slippery, naked body beneath his, he grabs, grips her other thrust out breast by its base, twisting, jerking with one hand while grabbing the other clamp, on the mattress beside her. Squeezing the metal open, he slips it across her right nipple.   Even as she’s jerking, twisting, he lets the slippery clamp slip from his fingertips, snap shut across the extreme tip of that nipple, barely gripping but excruciatingly pinching the tortured nub.

       “Aaauuuggghhhhhh!!!… Aaaaauuuggghhh!!!”  Feeling as if that nipple’s bursting, exploding, her screams are unintelligible, more like screeches.  Her heart thumps, pounds thru her chest, her jaws ache, burn, her throat raw from screaming.

       Swinging across her, onto the jerking bed, his legs sliding between her obscenely spread hips, his swollen shaft slaps across the clamp grinding into her ravaged vagina.  His face sliding across the side of the black leather hood covering hers, his chest smashes down across her solar plexus, flattening the clover clamps into her tortured breasts.

       Terrified, barely conscious from the pain, she instantly feels the full weight fall across her chest, doesn’t need to be able to see, hear, to realize it’s a man, a big man, mounting her hideously bound, naked body, crushing the air from her lungs, tearing the clamps off her nipples.

Grunting, chocking, and gagging on her saliva, her mind fogs.  Lungs bursting, unable to breath, bordering over the edge of hysteria, she fades in and out toward what would be a welcome state of unconsciousness.

       He continues his assault, inattentive to her pain, the clit clamp scraping across his thick shaft, slapping back and forth, between her stretched thighs as he forces her body back down against the mattress, her arms bent behind her, twisted in their restraints.

       Forcing his throbbing shaft past the clamp, into her spreading vagina, the stretching walls grip his manhood like a tight glove with each, deeper thrust, his shaft grinding along side the thick butt plug, separated only by the thin membrane between the stuffed two orifices.

       Pounding, pumping, he grunts, grinds his hips between hers.  Feeling the rush, the twitch, the explosion rising from deep within, he squeezes tighter, both breasts bulging, discoloring as they stretch toward her sides, the jerking clamp finally tearing away from the bud of her pinched nipple, bouncing across the springing mattress, onto the floor.

       Cock pulsing, his juices oozing, he jerks out, forces himself up past her hips, jerking, twisting her twin mounds for leverage.  Slapping his shaft across the mask, forcing its swollen head against the “O” ring, into that yawning hole, he feels the cum spurting, squirting, into her throat, around the “O” ring, across the mask.

       Pumping, grunting, rocking, he pounds into her yawning mouth, until he too, goes limp, falling across her face, the mattress, the head of his cock still pressed between the hard, bright red rubber encasing her mouth.  He lies across her limp body, smells the dampness of the sheets, her scent, against his cheek.

       Catching his breath, motionless for a few moments, he finally rolls off to the side of the bed, slips his feet onto the floor as cum drips from the quivering head of his freed shaft, across her throat, onto the sheets, gurgling from her gapping mouth, oozing off her stretched lips as she reflexively twitches, unconscious.

       Collecting himself, grabbing a pillow case, he wipes between his thighs, legs.  Settling in the chair, he leans over her quivering body, twisted, bound, soaked in sweat, smeared with his cum.  Wiping her breasts first, then her neck, dragging the cloth down between her thighs, across the tip of the butt plug, back up her thigh, her breasts again, across the bondage hood, finally the “O” ring, he wads the matted case, drops it to the floor, notices, picks up the loose clamp.  Casually leaning across her wet, glistening body, he slips the gleaming metal deep onto the bare nipple, lets it snap shut, her body barely twitching.

       Glancing down at his own sweat drenched body, standing up, he walks toward the window.  Needing some fresh air, sliding the window open, he feels the steady pelting of warm rain across the back of his head, shoulders as he leans out into the wet, dark night.

       Glancing back toward her bound, but lax, naked body spread across the mattress, he thinks to himself how well his plan’s going, knowing there’s absolutely no chance of any interference.  Yes, this will be an entire weekend of isolation, with just her, to continue using the endless contents of his satchel on.  But first, he may unbind just her legs, take her a nice walk out into the rain, to the horse stall across the driveway, and wake her up.

End Part Three                                                                                                                                  

RAVAGED

Chapter Four

       Standing next to the bed, looking down across her naked body, he glides the back of his hand across her glistening stomach, toward her equally damp thighs.   Reaching her left ankle, he unbinds it from her outstretched thigh, gripping, slowly straightening her leg with both hands.  Reaching across the bed, again slowly, gently, unfastening her right ankle, he straightens, slides her right leg down across the mattress, her ankles spread about a foot or so apart as he tosses the restraints toward his open satchel.

       Sliding his fingertips back up between her inner thighs, he flicks the glistening clover clamp back and forth a couple times before gripping it between his thumb, forefinger, gently spreading it apart.  Her hips jerk as he slips the pressing metal off her swollen clitoris.   Rubbing, massaging, manipulating the moist, flattened flesh as it swells, he senses an occasional twitch of its nub against his fingers, even as she boarders on unconsciousness.

       Taking a step toward the head of the bed, leaning over the shimmering, black bondage hood, he can hear her rasping moans as her head tilts limply back against the mattress.  Reaching across her bowed torso, resting his open hands across her shimmering, thrust out breasts, letting his thumbs, index fingers slide across the nipple clamps, he slowly twists, back and forth, tugs up and down, watching her naked body raising, arching upward, twitching, the induced pain nudging her toward consciousness.

       Momentarily in a state of confusion, in total isolation in her darkness, deafness, bondage, she quickly realizes her nightmare’s continuing.  Both legs, though now straightened, feel as if a thousand needles are poking, probing against her bare flesh from her hips to her toes.  Her clitoris, pulsing, burns, along with the constant pressure building in her engorged rectum.  Feeling her nipples now being slowly twisted back and forth in the metal tongs, she reflexively arches, thrusts her chest outward, somehow in a lame effort to relieve the pain.

       The heat’s stifling around her encased face, head, the leather shrinking, uncomfortably tightening across her damp flesh.  She can feel the sweat crisscrossing, dripping from most of her exposed skin, pooling beside, under her on the soiled, wet sheets as her body lifts, settles back down each time the tugging pressure’s momentarily relieved on her nipples.  Again she attempts to focus, to regain her sanity, but now, it’s just a little harder as she feels her nipples again twisted, stretched upward, slowly, tautly, more painfully.

       Setting toward the edge of the bed, he amuses himself with the pair of shinning clover clamps.  Listening to her subtle moans, watching her bare chest raise, lower, raise again as he manipulates the clamps in a gentle rhythm, he grips the springs firmly between his thumbs, forefingers, sadistically twists, jerks upward.  Again her torso’s forced to follow his lead, her back arching up off the mattress, her breasts transforming from symmetrical globes to oblong melons, to some sort of cone shaped parodies.

       Listening to her whimpers, watching foaming saliva beading, drooling out from the corners of the sewn slit in her mask circling her outstretched lips, he stops, holds his hands steady, feels her body weight tugging at the clamps, the engorged tips of her stretched nipples protruding above the glistening metal, her dark tan areolas melding into her lighter, substantial tit flesh stretching downward toward her trembling chest.

       Her soft whimpers become louder, more like hisses, music to his ears as he slips his elbows above the bottom of her ribs for leverage as he lifts just a little higher, holds his wrists firmer, his hands flat, the clamps steady.  Watching her tortured breasts stretching, tugging at the disfigured nipples agonizingly slipping down thru the hard, flat steel of the crushing clamps, he already feels his cock stiffening again.

       The burning pain of the fresh circulating blood thru her legs subside as the throbbing, searing pain of her tortured nipples increases.  Arching her back, her neck stiffening, her head pushing backward, also pressing the heels of her practically numb feet down against the mattress, she desperately tries to bow her chest, to relieve the pain of her nipples dragging thru the metal.  Even in her confused state of mind, in agonizing seconds, she realizes she’s forestalling the inevitable.

       Grunting, tensing, squinting her already closed, covered eyes, she makes an instant, incredibly painful decision.  Jerking backwards, twisting, kicking, her back slams down across the mattress, her breasts flailing across her chest, her nipples ripping thru the metal prongs as she screams, slobbers thru the “O” ring.  “Aaaaaggggggghhhh!!!

       Almost stunned, he sits with the clamps in his hands, actually impressed with her fortitude.  Intently watching her gyrations, he nonchalantly tosses the clamps into the satchel, grabs both breasts, and squeezes their base.  He can feel her heartbeat, her spasms transferring thru his fingers as he leans closer, examining her swollen, bruised, discolored nipples as he squeezes the quivering mounds tighter, further exposing the outlines of the prongs firmly embedded in both.

       The pain’s excruciating, consciousness is a curse as her mind races.  Again struggling to catch her breath, feeling on the verge of hyperventilating she twists her head back and forth in the bondage hood, gasping for breath thru the “O” ring, her flailing nostrils.

       Slipping off from the bed, he stands, watches as she slowly regains some sort of composure, her legs spreading, twitching, her feet sliding together, apart, her breasts swaying toward her sides, her head tilted back, toward the mattress.  He can still hear rasping sounds, gurgling sounds from her shimmering bondage mask.

       Again stepping toward the window, he leans out.  The steady rain’s still warm, splashing off the back of his head, bare shoulders, but the air’s breathable, soothing.  Glancing back toward the bed, he grins to himself, decides its time to take her for that walk.

       Stepping back toward the bed, leaning over his satchel, he looks in, shuffles about, finds a couple, three strands of supple white rope.  Searching a little further, he finds an old brown leather piece of a barber’s strap, the kind to sharpen razors with, five, six inches wide, less then a foot long.  Slipping his shoes on, satisfied that’s all he’ll need, he reaches above her head, grips the mask, and twists her upright on the mattress.

       Feeling hands forcing her into an upright position, twisting her around, she feels her legs dragged across the edge of the bed, her bare feet sliding against the floor.  Legs still burning, she at least has some feeling back as she’s hoisted upright off the bed by the hands now gripping the bindings on her elbows.

       Standing her upright, he gives a quick once over, watching her firm, out thrust breasts bounce, sway as she awkwardly stands up.  Turning her, he gets a side profile, even more impressive, her breasts standing well out over her hollowed stomach, an incredibly thin waist, the slightest of a bulge from her pubic mound, her butt cheeks almost boyish, her rump barely rounded.

       Fastening a rope to the right wrist restraint behind her back, sliding it between her butt cheeks, out the front, wrapping it around his wrist, the end in his fist, he opens the bedroom door, lets the other ropes circle his shoulder, folds the strap in two, drops it over the elbow cuffs behind her back, leads her thru the adjoining kitchen, thru it’s door to the porch.

       She blindly follows, literally, almost stumbling as she tries to keep up, her legs still aching.  She feels the rope grinding between her cuntlips, stretching up across the end of the butt plug, across her clit as he keeps a taut grip on it, tugging, pulling as he steps out into the rain.

       Turning, backing across the wooden porch floor, he watches her naked body leave the shadows of the doorway as she’s forced into the light, but steady raindrops.  It’s light enough to quickly adjust to the shadows as he watches her initial reaction out in the weather, the steady rain quickly mixing with her sweat, the remnants of his sexual encounters with her.

       Again he feels the twinge between his legs as he watches the rain patter down across the shinning black hood, her bare, arched back shoulders, especially her naked, thrust out breasts.  Stopping, having her stand motionless, he watches streams of water quickly trace across her bare flesh, running in thin zigzagging streams over her firm, symmetrical globes, down the hollow of her chest, even dripping off her quivering, hardening nipples.

       Feeling the wetness, realizing she’s outside in the rain, she struggles to breathe, quickly tilting her head forward, her face down, the rain covering, streaking over the hood, across the nostril, mouth openings.  Her emotions are mixed, none good.  Questions, doubts, anxiety flash thru her thoughts.  What’s she doing outside… Where’s she being taken… What’s going to happen to her next… Then?  The only thought remotely positive is the rain, in a way, is refreshing to her overheated body.

       Backing, tugging, he slowly steps down the three wooden steps into the puddles in the gravel, slowly pulling her along with the rope, a helping hand on her left hip.

       Feeling for the steps, even having used them hundreds of times, she nearly stumbles off the bottom riser, her foot slipping in the wet gravel, as ignoring her problems, he turns, tugs the rope, continues across the driveway toward the stalls.  Feeling the wet, sharp gravel under her feet, then the obvious soggy ground around the stall’s entrance, mixed with the odor, she realizes where she’s being led as she’s finally shielded from the rain from under the tin roof.

       A single dim light shines down from the rafter as he walks her thru the pathway in front of the stalls.  Glancing toward her inquisitive, neighing horse as they pass by the stall, chuckling, he wonders if she realizes she’s being lead like her horse.

       Getting back on track, almost as familiar with the surroundings as she is, he leads her on thru, out the back entrance, turns left.

       Again she feels the rain pelting her naked body, now seemingly picking up in intensity as she shuffles thru the muck, nervously realizing from the smells, the touch of her bare feet, that she’s passed thru the stable, but too where?

       Leading her out into the yard toward the rear edge of the stable, just a few feet from the stable door, he stop, turns her backside against a galvanized water trough off to its side.  It’s rounded, double walled top band presses across the back of her thighs, virtually flush with the bottom of her butt cheeks, scrapping the very tip of the butt plug’s knob.

       Feeling the cool wet metal tub across her twisting backside, she instinctively realizes where she’s at, the horse trough.  But, what’s happening, what’s next?!  Feeling her feet being spread apart, squashing in the soaked mud, sparse grass, a rope being tied across her left ankle, her thoughts are quickly answered as she feels it being bound to the bottom of the tub’s angle iron leg.  Her right foot’s next.  Forced out from her side, her right ankle’s quickly tied to the bottom of the trough’s matching front metal leg with the other end of the rope.

       Finished tying her ankles, stepping between the stable’s rough hewn barn wood and the narrow galvanized tank, he tugs the lead rope back out from between her legs, pulls it across the top of the tank.  Pulling at her tied wrists, twisting her torso to the left, he stretches the rope, quickly wrapping a slip knot to the bottom of the rear angle iron leg to her right.

       Stepping behind her, around the tub, grabbing the leather barber strap out from her elbow restraints, he drops it across the soaking ground.  Tying the third rope to her left wrist cuff, holding the rope tightly, restraining her, he starts at the top, unsnaps the clips from between her shoulder cuffs, then elbow cuffs, finally down to the wrist cuffs.  Pulling the rope back, he stretches her left arm backwards, down, slips the end of the rope around the bottom of the forth iron leg, jerks, tugs it tight.

       Feeling her arms being painfully spread, her shoulders jerking, bowing back across the tank, she flips her head backwards, her left arm stretching out across the tank’s rim.  Rain pelts across the mask’s face, pours across the nose, mouth slits, she struggles, gasps for breath, panics.

       Double checking, he’s satisfied with her left outstretched arm, firmly ties a slipknot. Stepping back around the trough, he tugs the rope on her right wrist tighter, harder, jerking, bending her even further backwards, into a tightening, inverted arch as her drenched, naked body flexes, jerks, her reared back head twisting back and forth below her shoulders.

       Forming her pain wrenched arms into a crude crucifix position, her breasts spreading, flattening across her chest, her chest muscles, tendons quivering, defined, tracing past her taut, hollowed armpits, he gives a final tug, adjusts the slipknot.

       Helpless, terrified, every joint in her body screaming in pain, she’s forced to tiptoe, feeling her rain soaked body bending spread-eagled, impossibly backwards into a tight semi circle, her heels scraping under the bottom of the tub, her hips flattened against the rim of the trough, the butt plug ramming deeper inside her rectum as its exposed end harshly scraps across the galvanized metal.

       Finally satisfied with his elaborate version of hog tying her, like he’s practiced so many times before, he steps in front of the trough, himself soaking wet as the rain continues its steady pace.   Picking up the strap, stepping around the end of the trough to begin administering a few good, hard lashings to her wet, naked, flesh, he looks up, struck by the almost surreal, incredibly exotic, side view of her, illuminated between him and the stable.

       Her silhouette stands out in the darkness, the slanting raindrops, the obviously painful but erotic, serpentine pose her soaked body’s forced into.  The highest point of her bowed back allows a good foot or so of light from the stable’s door to shine through, above the trough, reflect across the rippling, half filled tub, the constant rain pelting across her naked breasts, stomach, streaking, dripping into the tank below her.  Again, the reality’s so much better then the fantasy.

       Her mind’s screaming, or is it actually her voice?  Past any fear, anxiety, terror she’s ever felt, surely, there’s no other pain possible, mental or physical that can be further forced on her tortured, twisted, bent, drowning body, she terrifyingly thinks to herself.

       Or is there?  “Thwack!”  Her head jerks, fingers clinch, her fingernails digging into her palms, her toes curl, digging into the wet muck.  She feels her right breast crushed, flattened across her torso.  “Thwack!”  The next lashing, within a second, or less, flattens her left breast against her chest, burning, pounding.

       Red welts instantly cover the surfaces of her drenched globes, areolas, nipples, the leather tearing into her body, her psyche.

       All she can do is gurgle, groan, foaming spittle spurting from her mouth, the sounds barely noticeable to him above the pelting rain as he engrossingly watches the areas of her bare flesh, momentarily dried by the wide, flat leather strap smacking across it, instantly soaking up the fresh wet raindrops again.

       Stepping in front of his bound victim, bound so tight, she can barely struggle, he watches the water splash across her naked torso, her spread, flattening melons springing, bouncing in the dim light flickering thru the rain, just the outlines of her thick nipples jiggling, glistening above the wide red welts, the width of the strap, he’s raising again.

       “Thwack!”  The flat, wet, leather strap smacks across her sternum, between her spread breasts. The tip landing just below her throat.

       “Smack!”  Another overhand lashing with the tip of the leather landing just below her visibly twitching sternum causes her breasts to spring toward her sides, then slap together, swaying, settling back again.

A half a minute or so passes. “Thwack!”  Yet another lashing, lower, harder, the wide, flat leather tip snapping across her rippling abdomen, belly button, again her naked body jerks in its bindings, water sprays, breasts bounce, the air crushed from her burning lungs.

       Coughing, wheezing, chocking, she feels the stinging, burning across her naked, wet flesh, her tortured mind bordering on madness, now sure the constant, rhythmic slashing directed across her defenseless, stretched, crucified body is being administered by a group of sadists, some insane cult!

       “Smack!… Smack!… Smack!… Smack!!!”  Back and forth, up and down, left breast, right breast… Left… Right!  The wet, leather strap flicks moisture from its flexing end each time it curls back and forth in his grip, smashing across her flailing globes, flattening, slamming both mounds across her thrust out chest, smashing them together like a pair of ripe melons.

       The pain overrides her senses, all she feels is the “Thump” of the leather flattening across her chest, echoing in her plugged ears, a hallow, ringing sensation, just in the confines of the dark, masked hood.

       Squinting his eyes from the rain splashing across his bare head, shoulders, he watches her drenched body shaking, her soaked, dark, single braid of hair sticking, wrapping across the top of the bondage hood, her wrists, ankles, red, raw as they reflexively twist, jerk.   Sliding the palm of his left hand across her rounded pubic mound, feeling her involuntary fluttering, rippling spasms under the steady streams of water pouring down off her reddened flesh, twisting his fingers, he spreads the tender flesh, exposing her soaking clit.

       “Thwack!… Thwack!… Thwack!”  Three more, snapping flicks of the curling leather strap, each harder.  The first smacks across her spread vagina, splashing water, the second flattening her puffy vulva, the folds of her labia, the third directly across her tortured clit.

       The darkness, deafness, is now madness.  Her mind screams, specks of light flashing thru her skull with each savage lashing exploding thru her pain wrenched womb.

       An exaggerated sense of her lungs filling with water, gasping, spitting, gurgling, suddenly, almost a calmness spreads, consumes her very sole, her mind drifts into darkness, her body goes limp.

       Realizing her difficulties breathing, the steady rain pelting her facemask, he wants to keep her alert to feel her punishment; after all, the night’s young.  He quickly decides to give her a hand, to be able to breath easier, to feel her torment.

       Dropping the strap, glancing across her limp body, up toward an exposed hook holding the end of the overflowing gutter on the edge of the stall’s roof, he steps behind the trough, unties the slipknots from her wrists, the rear iron tub legs.  Reaching under her shoulders, he quickly snaps just the clamp fastening her wrist cuffs together, allowing her limp body to settle back above her arms, across the rim of the tub.

       Using one of the ropes, stepping up on the slippery corner of the trough, he quickly double ties an end to the metal hook, letting the rope’s free end dangle down across the edge of the tub.  Stepping down, standing behind the tub, he reaches across her shoulder, grips the base of her right breast, squeezes.   With his free hand twisting, looping, he begins snugging the end of the flexing rope around her wet flesh, each tug, jerk, bulging her melon into a rounder globe.

       Reaching across, gripping, twisting her left breast, the other end of the rope’s quickly wrapped, stretched, tied off.  Reaching up, tugging the end of the swaying rope hanging down from the gutter, he loops it around the rope binding her breasts.  Carefully stepping up on the rim in the continuing rain, straddling the tub again, he yanks, tugs the rope upwards.  Slowly, carefully, her limp torso’s lofted higher by her bound, naked breasts.

       As her weight stretches the rope, he keeps an eye on the creaking hook in the gutter.  Satisfied it’s secure enough, he more aggressively manipulates the rope, lifting, hoisting her naked body into an upright position, her head still hanging limply back in the wet, black hood.

       Her breasts, bulge, stretch with each tug, her weight more obvious in his busy hands as leaning over, he sees her ankles lifting up from the muck, just her toes, the balls of her feet in the water, her butt cheeks sliding out off the metal rim.

       Tying off the rope, jumping off the rim, he quickly steps around, in front of her newly positioned body, slides his hands across the wet, rounded curves of her spread thighs, up across her slim waist, ribcage, to finally cup the pair of drenched, bulging melons, twitching, shoulder height, the hard nipples pointing upwards from the tautly stretched areolas.

       Lifting, tilting her head forward, he slips the sides of the slippery hood between the pair of bowing ropes stretching up from her twisting breasts, holds her head upright.  Water, salvia spills from her stretched lips, thru the gurgles.

Lowering his right hand, he slides his forefinger and thumb between her thighs, pinches his nails into her wet clit flesh, hard.  “Uuuummmphh!”  Hearing her grunt, he smiles, letting go of her clit, steps around the trough for the strap.

       Jerking, again semiconscious in her isolated state, she feels the instant. sharp pain of her pinched clit, the mounting strain across her chest, the weight of her body, now upright, tearing at her pulsing breast flesh, her wrists bound behind her back.

       Reflexively tiptoeing, she feels her feet sinking into the wet mush; she can barely relieve the constant pressure across her chest, her taut calves, and thighs already aching.

       Stepping beside her, he watches her stretched lips quiver, listens to her pitiful moans, is fascinated with the girth of her roped breasts, already practically half again as large as their already normal, substantial size.  Only able to imagine what kind of thoughts must be going through her tortured mind, figuring the darkness, shadows, rain will keep his face unrecognizable, he decides to let her get a look at those bulging globes, maybe watch as he works ’em over some more.

       Unzipping the left eye cover, then the right, he steps toward her side.  Flipping the blinders open across the mask simultaneously, he watches her eyes blink, squint, then widen, the whites visible around her brown pupils as she stares straight toward her swollen, round globes, stretching around both sides of the cheeks of the mask, her areolas, nipples pointing severely upward, tautly stretched to the size of silver dollars.

       Feeling the eye blinders flip open, water dripping across her blinking eyes, finally the sight of the bulging, roped flesh scraping across her facemask, pounding in pain, obviously her breasts, drives her closer to madness!    The sight’s nearly incomprehensible to register in her tortured mind.

       “Thwack!!!”  The flat side of the leather strap smacks squarely across the center of the left nipple, the swollen melon barely flexing.  “Aaaaggghhh!!”  Her nipple and areola share the full force of the flat, wet leather smashing against her rock hard globe.  Her legs flex, her toes slip lower in the muck as she’s virtually suspended in mid air.

       Inches in front of her face, eyes, she watches, stunned, as virtually in slow motion in her mind, she watches the wide, flat strap again flinging around from her left side, toward her pulsing breast.  “Thwack!”  “Aaaggghhh!”  Again her body rocks, her nipple the dead center of the strap smashing across the grapefruit sized ball of flesh stretching upwards in the jerking rope, her body twitching, toes clawing.

       Lowering the strap across the tank, he circles the mask with his hands, flicks, zips the leather blinkers shut, and picks up the strap.  “Thwack!”  Again, for the third time, the strap smashes across the same breast.  “Aaaggghhh!!!”  Another animalistic scream spurts from the hood, matching her mind’s scream in her head.

       Blinded again, water soaking the mask, eyes burning, jolting blows to her chest, reality’s becoming a figment of her imagination.  Obviously certain of the physical pain being inflicted on her tortured breasts, mentally her mind can’t grip what’s happening and what’s not.  Her breasts she just saw?… Huge, swollen, bound in rope!… Could she have even seen them?… Is this real?!  “Thwack!”  “Aaaagghhhh!!!… Aaaaggghhh!!!”

       Watching her body stretching, bordering on being suspended from the stretching ropes, her feet kicking at the splashing water, he smiles, lowers the strap.  Turning toward the stable, he leaves her with her thoughts.  As he meanders on back toward the house to retrieve his satchel, he thinks to himself, wonders if she’s appreciative that he really hasn’t hurt her yet.

End Part four                                                                                              

RAVAGED

Part Five.

       Arching, twisting, her buttocks scraping across the wet metal rim of the trough, she struggles with her bindings.  The steady raindrops pelting across her naked body, dripping across the leather bondage hood, engulfing its mouth and nose slits, chokes her, forces her to gulp for breath.

       Her tightly bound breasts pulse, still aching from the sadistic flailing with the strap.  The ever tightening ropes hoist her upwards as she’s barely able to relieve the tension, her feet sinking deeper into the muck as she struggles, tiptoes awkwardly from foot to foot.  The past hours have been surreal, a nightmare.  The constant assault on both her body and mind is taking its toll.

       Walking slowly out from the rear stable door, hesitating, he sets the satchel on the ground under protection from the rain by the stall’s overhang.  Already chosen his next implement of torture, a small, slightly refined version of a Wartenberg pinwheel, he steps in front of his defenseless victim, rests the multipoint wheeled instrument just beneath the stretched areola of her right breast.  Reaching down, spreading the puffy folds of her labia with the fingertips of his free hand, he arches forward, sliding the swelling head of his hardening shaft between her wet slit, gliding his cock four, five, six inches deep into her drenched vagina with a single, smooth thrust.

       Her mind races as she feels his thick shaft spreading her apart, pressing alongside the plug engorging her rectum as her butt cheeks press back, grinding across the lip of the trough’s metal rim.  It’s all she can do to shove her toes deeper into the mud, push upward while spreading her thighs, the ropes digging into her aching breasts as she’s forced to mount the hot, pulsing shaft.

       Tiptoeing, he gives another upward thrust deeper inside of her stretching vagina as he feels her body lifting up, mounted on his shaft.  Staring across the slackening ropes binding her drenched, bulging globes, raising his hand, cupping her breast, he lets his other hand glide forward, slowly roll the instrument upward, the pinwheel of needle tips circling sadistically over her quivering flesh.  Closely spaced indentations sink into her soaked flesh, visibly tracking, piercing as the trail of tiny specks of blood instantly dissolve with the mixing raindrops.  His face presses next to her mask as he watches the water gurgling from her stretched mouth, listens to the garbled grunts, groans of his tortured victim.

       Continuing her maddening torture, thrusting once again between her spread thighs, pressing, grinding her hips against the trough, he firmly rolls the micro sharp needle points horizontally from the underside of her prickling flesh, across the bottoms of her areolas, the tips of her stretched nipples.  Riding his cock, she reflexively strains to tiptoe as pain resonates throughout her tortured breasts, the sensations like a multitude of tiny electrical shocks, one on top of the other.

       She’s continuously mentally, physically raped as he crisscrosses the wheel from one heaving breast to the other.  Left to right, right to left, up and down, the instrument rolls, centering back and forth across her tugged, twisted, tortured nipples while he continuous to thrust his swollen shaft deeper and deeper into her gapped slit.  Her body uncontrollably spasms, jerks back and forth, sinking deeper onto his pulsing manhood.

       Enveloping his thrusting shaft, her buttocks scraping against the trough, the butt plug grinding against the metal rim, her breasts stretching in the flexing ropes, she continues to cough, choke on the constant cascade of water soaking through the mask’s slits as her body contorts out of control, her mind gripped in the darkened madness.  Agonizing minutes pass as with each pounding thrust, his scrotum slaps between her thighs, raises her body a little higher, the wheel’s prongs sinking in a little deeper, relentlessly crisscrossing her swollen, twisting globes, leaving raw trails.

       Reaching above and behind her with his bare hand, he grips, twists her matted braid of hair, twisting back, downwards.   Again water streams into the mask’s slits, spurts out from the “O” ring, bubbles oozing out from the nostril slit as her naked body spasms as he finally steps back a step, slides his still pulsing cock out from between her jerking thighs.

       Stepping back another step, he takes a few moments to collect his breath.  Glancing skyward, he notices the rain’s intensity slackening, within moments to just a drizzle. The air’s still muggy, oppressive, the quick moving clouds separating; the moon’s light flickering across his drenched victim as he steps back toward her, watches her tortured, bound body spasm.

       Continuing her torture, reaching lower, the pinwheel’s sadistically rolled down across her navel, pubic mound, across the puffy folds of her vulva as he watches her naked body reflexively quivering under the prickling pain of the trial of specks of blood.  Rolled back across her inner thigh, he forces her to painfully tiptoe before the instrument’s twisted, rolled back out across the inner edge, the protruding labia fold, then pressed firmly, across the nub of her swollen clit, back and forth, crossways, back and forth again and again as it reddens.  Her body jerks, bucks, twists against the trough, inaudible grunts gurgling from the mask, hoarse, raspy moans.

       Nearly hysterical, she feels the stinging, burning pain searing through her pulsing clit as the needle tips roll back and forth, flattening and tugging the burning nub between her shaking thighs.  Her raw throat burns, even as the water gurgles between her yawning lips. His cock pulled free from her gapping slit, her buttocks reflexively grinds against the horse trough as the pinwheel seems to roll endlessly back and forth between her shaking thighs.

       Again stepping back a step, he watches with a certain amount of fascination at the pinkish tinted water dripping from her glistening flesh as the scores of pinpricks leave their crisscrossing patterns down her naked front side.  Retrieving a bottle of alcohol from his black satchel, along with a hand size scrub brush, he steps beside her.  Opening the bottle, he reaches above her shoulders, pours what he feels is a generous amount of the alcohol across the upper curves of her bound, bulging globes, watching as it cascades across her chest, splashes off her breasts, streaks down past her flexing, hollowed stomach, soaking her bare vagina.

       “Aaaaaaaaaagggggghhhhhhhhh!!!  Aaaaaaaaaaggggggggghhhhhhhhhh!”  The screams echo in the rainy night as he slides the brush across her breasts, the nipples, circles the bound globes, scrapes the bristles down from the valley of her breasts harshly across her jerking bellybutton.  “Aaaaaaaaaaagggggghhhhh!  Aaaaaaaaaagggggggghhhhhhh!”  More screeches, wailings as her body twists, jerks, slams against the trough. The ropes dig into her bulging globes as her legs kick, her buttocks slams across the top edge of the trough’s rim.

       Twisting, shoving, he forces the brush between her thighs, back and forth, side to side, across the raw, flesh of her swollen vulva and clitoris.  The white bristles turn more crimson with each sadistic stroke even as her body slumps, hangs from the ropes binding her tortured breasts.  Again stepping back, he watches her unconscious body spasm, notices the rain again picking up, just enough to coat her naked skin with a fine shower, dissolving the mixture of fluids, cleansing them from her raw flesh.

       Capping the bottle, dipping the brush in the trough, he walks back to the satchel, drops them in.  Returning to his victim, loosening the rope, he carries her unconscious body to the stable door, laying her on her side on a burlap sack.  Taking his time, he carefully unbinds her naked body, even removing the bondage hood.  Turning her on her back he unbinds the ropes buried deep into her swollen tit flesh.

       Fitting a black cocker collar around her neck, he cuffs her wrists to rings on either side. Slipping a foot long chain between a pair of ankle cuffs, he secures her ankles.  Placing everything else in the satchel, he leans back against the side of the stable, next to her naked body. Laying her head on his lap he listens to the steady patter of raindrops on the metal roof as he strokes her bare flesh, watches the color returning to her discolored breasts, deciding which one of his fantasies he’s going to play out with her next as he glances toward the satchel.

End Part five