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TODAY'S FREE BONDAGE STORY |
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I could not believe the ad I was reading in the latest issue of the Odds and Ends newsletter delivered to my address in a plain brown wrapper. It read as follows:
" I am thirty-four, the mother of fourteen year-old twin girls and measure 38D-23-36. I've been described as a totally depraved slut, a nymphomaniac with no self esteem and a masochist with no known limits to what I can tolerate. References can be supplied if necessary. My daughters have been expelled from four different private schools for various infractions involving sex with other students, faculty members, animals and each other, all on school grounds of course. Pictures of them peforming various illegal acts can also be provided."
" We require the presence of a masterful male who knows the ropes and is blessed with outstanding physical endowments including size (an absolute must), stamina and recuperative powers. He will be expected to discipline and educate the three of us exclusively as our live-in teacher and trainer. Salary and additional benefits are negotiable."
What really blew me away was the attached photograph which showed this gorgeous blonde with great jugs stark naked and hanging by her wrists. She was covered with welts and cuts from her neck to her kneecaps, and appeared to be out cold. That was all I needed to check out the address given to send replies, references and information including my salary requirements and other benefits. Less than two weeks later I was contacted by Dana Thompson to come to her home for an interview.
I arrived right on time and rang the bell. I waited and rang again, still no reply.I pounded on the door and still no answer. I went over and peered into the garage to check for a car, which was there. Back to the entryway I went and resumed pounding my fist on the door and hollering her name. I began to wonder if this was some kind of a test, and that got me really pissed off. I walked around to the back of the house but everything was buttoned up. The shades were drawn so I couldn't see inside. Now I started kicking at the door, ruining the shoe-shine I paid four bucks to get.
I went back to my car and had a smoke. Maybe she was on the pot and unable to come to the door; shit happens. Minutes later I was back at it, still no response.I started yelling once more and threatening to break a window. I was maybe a minute away from breaking a window when the door opened and my eyes nearly popped out of my head.
Dana Thompson was wearing only a pair of sheer bikini panties that showed that she either shaved or waxed her pussy to keep it clean and almost child-like. In point of fact she underwent rather painful, to most people, electrolysis treatments every two two weeks to keep her cunt bald as a cueball. It was also evident that she had been pretty badly beaten up. On closer inspection "beaten up" was too mild a term.
Those bee stung lips were split and her eyes nearly swollen shut. Her upper body was covered with cigarette burns, especially on those great jugs. They didn't jump out at you because those big fun bags had been beaten, bruised and cut in so many places that the relatively small burns were not obvious at first glance. The rest of her body was also a mess.
Dana had a huge collection of cuts and gashes, massive multi-colored bruises, welts that were different from the ones covering her tits and burns that had been made mostly by heated items or electricity. It looked like they may have run enough juice through her to light up a small city. How she was standing erect was a mystery to me until I remembered the remark that she was a major league masochist with no known limits for pain.
Her cunt had taken plenty of pounding, externally as well as internally. I could see the cum still oozing from that thin pussy slit. The lips were swollen to the point that you couldn't push a pencil into her twat, and her cunt mound was crisscrossed with a huge collection of marks from hot things, sharp things, blunt things and in some cases what looked to be the calling card from a cane, probably one of those bamboo jobs that the Brits loved to use on their women.
Some one or some people had really given her a major going over during the last day or so. She had deep marks on her wrists and ankles, probably from the ropes they'd used to make her more cooperative. Asking Dana what happened only got me some pointing and mumbling. I wondered if she was on drugs or something, so I reached out and tried to pry one of her eyelids open to get a good look at her pupil. I got scratched for my trouble. Unfortunately for her, my hair-trigger reflexes went into overdrive and in less time than it takes to tell I buried my fist in her gut, and when she doubled over, my knee split her cunt lips apart bringing up whatever she had eaten last. Dana made a nice mess on her rug, but that was her problem.
Her attitude really pissed me off. I'd evidently stumbled onto some weird stuff involving this crazy, and maybe those twins she used to con me to come over here. I wondered if they were just a figment of her demented imagination. I raised my hand and she cowered, holding her gut and trying to catch some air to replace what she'd lost when I retaliated to her scratching. When Dana pushed her tongue out from between those split lips I suddenly understood that I'd made one of my rare errors in judgement.
There were three heavy rings of metal embedded in her tongue, running its length. I'd seen plenty of studs but never something like this. No wonder all she could do was mumble. My guess was that this had been done by the same bunch who had marked her up. I held out my open hands in a gesture of peace. She wasn't buying it just yet. So I took a deep breath and apologized, something I did maybe every blue moon. Her face tried to break into a smile, but instead she looked like some mask one might wear on Halloween to scare the little kids when they came to the door.
Asking where her twins were got only more mumbling and hand gestures, but the head shaking did indicate that she was clueless when it came to their whereabouts. I pointed to the ceiling and asked if that was where she was kept. I got a nod and so upstairs we went, hand in hand, since she had lots of problems walking up the steps. As soon as we hit the top of the stairs I was overwhelmed by a sickening odor that must be coming from the bathroom. I held my nose and looked at my companion. Dana nodded her head and pointed in the direction where the stench wa coming from. I was nervous about what might be behind that door, but I opened it and looked.
The bathroom was a mess. There were puddles of vomit and piss in a number of places. The toilet was filled with a brew of unmentionable materials bubbling and occasionally hissing. I wondered if it was stopped up, but chanced it by hitting the handle to flush it. I literally held my breath for a number of reasons, then thanked the gods when the toilet paused for a moment before emptying its contents into the sewer system with a loud gurgle and a noise that sounded like a cough.
Dangling from the shower rod was an enema bag that looked as if it had been used recently. I looked over at the battered blonde and she nodded and pointed towards her bruised chest. Then she closed her hand into a fist and opened it showing one finger after another. I lost count after Dana started a second fist count. They'd given her lots and lots of enemas, and my guess is that they had more in them than just plain old water. She confirmed my guess by pointing to an empty bottle labeled ammonia. I winced at the thought of having something like that burning away the insides of my colon.
We left the bathroom and I followed her as she tottered toward the bedroom. It was fairly obvious that this was where Dana spent most of her time as they tortured her. There were no sheets on the bed, just a mattress, and ropes still attached to the posts at the corners. The large wet spot in the center of the mattress indicated that whoever had been spread-eagled here took plenty of cock when other things weren't being done to her. While I took all this in, noting the soldering iron still plugged into the wall socket by the bed, she was rummaging through the dresser drawers to come up with a pad and something with which to write.
I checked the other bedrooms, discovering the same pattern of ropes and stains. Evidently the twins had been put through the mill along with Dana; just in different rooms. By the time I got back to where I'd left her, she had covered half a dozen pages in her small, neat writing, and was still going strong. I thanked my lucky stars that her handwriting was legible. As I scanned through her version of what happened over the last two days, it became apparent that the guys who worked her over and took the twins intended to use them in a snuff film. Lucky for me and the twins, I happened to know the only guy in town who made such material, even though it was faux snuff to those of us in the know.
As near as I could figure, Dana had a guy named Marty over applying for the position. Midway through the interview a few of his friends showed up and they easily overpowered Dana. The leader had no interest in her job, he was there for her jewelry and any cash she had around the house. If that went smoothly they'd take her on a tour of ATMs and even have her open her safe deposit box if time allowed. To put added pressure on her they grabbed the twins and threatened to harm them if she wouldn't cooperate. The only flaw in Marty's plan was that Dana was a big time masochist and she thought it might be fun to have these guys do her.
For the first day they gave her all she could handle and then some. What these guys lacked in finesse they made up for with brute force. They whipped her from neck to kneecaps with straps and a fan belt which left her covered with welts, cuts and bruises. Most of the cuts came when they got tired of using the leather and started taking their best shots with the buckles. The fan belt left massive bruises formed by the hundreds of blood vessels just beneath her skin that ruptured from the brutal blows that rained down on her defenseless, naked body. Unfortunately for them Dana could not resist telling then no every time they took a break and asked her to talk. This made them frustrated and so she was securely gagged for the rest of the session that lasted well into the night. When they got tired from beating her, they took turns raping her and the twins. Although they were just filling out, their tight young bodies had a strong appeal for the intruders, and took plenty of hard cock.
After some take out, two of them sat on either side of Dana and burned her with lit cigarettes, starting on her big tits and slowly moving down to her cunt, burning her outer and inner cuntlips until she pissed herself and passed out. The second pair had other ideas for the twins and they plowed their tight furrows by the hour, whipping them with their straps whenever they needed time to recuperate. All this activity made the gang sleepy and so they turned in, leaving the trio of battered and bound females to fend for themselves.
By morning all three had pissed their beds and were beaten severely for doing it. Afterwards the gang decided to concentrate on Dana, leaving the twins alone except when one of them felt the need for some pussy. My guess is that by then Dana was so battered that she wasn't very appetizing when it came to fucking. There was no doubt after what they did to her to start off her second day of interrogation.
They tied Dana to a chair and asked her once more where she was hiding her money and jewelry. She remained close mouthed, the masochist in her rising to the occasion is my guess. So they took turns punching her lights out. That's when the majority of the damage to her face happened. I glanced over at her, still scribbling, and looked away real fast. Her head was lopsided from all the punches she'd taken, and the bruises on her face had started to look really scary. I wondered why they hadn't broken her nose with at least one shot, but tabled that line of thinking immediately.
Almost on cue, Dana handed me a few more pages that covered her day in the bathroom. Larry had the bright idea to see if she liked water sports. They began by dunking her in that foul mess bubbling away in the toilet. She was one tough cookie and held out even when she began swallowing the contents of the filthy bowl. She passed out a couple of times and so Larry decided she needed a change of pace. They dumped her into the tub and took turns pissing on her until most of the filth was washed from her face. She hung in there and so they gave her a series of enemas; starting out with tap water, then crushed ice and water, hot water and hot water mixed with liquid detergent. She hung tough even when they jammed a spindle wrapped with toilet paper up her bunghole to keep the enemas contained, making the pain almost more than she could handle.
I skipped over the rest of the water sport events such as the belly busters, more dunkings, golden showers, piss drinking and another round of enemas. Evidently they were totally frustrated by then. They took her back to the bedroom and resumed torturing her. That's when she got the rings through her tongue. Then they started in on her using electricity and a soldering iron they found in one of the kitchen drawers while they were looking for stuff to put in her enemas. I was astonished that she managed to survive having so much juice pumped through her.
What they did was remove the cord from one of the lamps, tape the ends, now stripped down to the bare wires, to various portions of her anatomy and plug the other end into the wall socket. That's a lot of volts and amps to be passing through a set of tits or a pussy. I wonder why she didn't break her neck or swallow her tongue when they hooked her new rings up to the house current. Fortunately for Dana, yours truly showed at the door, refused to take no for an answer and so they grabbed the twins and took off the back way as I continued to pound on the door. Somehow Dana got loose and the rest everyone knows.
Dana handed me another note. This one offered me the job, no questions asked. I countered with a deal guaranteeing that I would recover her daughters and protection them from further harm from the gang for a flat fee of ten thousand dollars and expenses. Once this happened then we would discuss a long term arrangement, not before. Her body language, if you could call it that, indicated she was none too thrilled over my offer.
However she brightened considerably when I said I'd move into her place and remain with her while tracking down her daughters. Based on the condition of her face and body there was no way I'd be bedding down with Dana unless someone held a gun to my head. That part I kept to myself. She held out her hand and we shook on it. I noticed that her palm was cold and damp, not a good sign. That little matter completed, I made a few calls and set up a meeting with my old buddy, Larry the snuff king.
As I mentioned before, Larry was truly the king of the fake snuff film. He was a master when it came to cutting and editing a scene to make it appear as if the woman involved had been offed big time. Part of his secret was this gift for making masks that were works of art and exact copies of his victims. Combine the mask and a realistic, anatomically correct dummy, no blowup dolls for Larry, also his creation, and he could work miracles. That was part of his success, but there was more. He must have studied under a master illusionist in his earlier days, because what you saw was not what you thought you saw. Think about that one for a while and you'll appreciate his genius. As the old gag goes, he was doing many of his tricks with smoke and mirrors, literally as well as figuratively. Put all his tricks into a bag and shake well and there was no one who could come even close to the effects he produced. My guess is sometime in the future some kid in film school will stumble upon something by Larry and make him an underground icon of sorts. Naturally by then Larry would have been dead for some years or rotting away in a Federal prison.
At my meeting with Larry I learned that he had already been contacted by Marty concerning the use of the twins in his latest snuff film. They had supplied him with numerous photos of the teenagers, some of them taken while they were working over Dana. There also were some shots of Dana showing her being worked over. When I pitchd the idea of including Dana in the film, it caught Larry's interest immediately. He had never done a multiple snuff film before, and the idea of having a mother and her two daughers being offed big time truly excited him. He insisted that Dana come over to the studio for more photographs and even a few measurements. We agreed that the filming would take place in a month, since he was working on another project, killing off a porn star look-a-like. This would also allow Dana a to heal some, giving Larry a somewhat fresh canvas upon which to work.
As a gesture of good faith in the project, he showed me the photographs of the twins and their mom Marty had given him, swearing me to secrecy, which made me laugh considering how deeply involved I had become in this whole situation. My mind was already turning over some ideas about how to separate Dana Thompson from more of her money. Most involved her twins and other film makers into producing extreme hard edge porn films featuring lots of strange sex, animals and violence. I figured the twins if they took after mom, would thrive in that area and make me, their agent, a rich man since after expenses I would be collecting one hundred percent of the profits. Once I had my nest egg, I'd dump Dana and her kids and be on my merry way, leaving them to the Martys of the world.
Based on what I saw, the twins were basically used as fuckmeat whenever Marty and his guys got tired of torturing Dana. I wondered why they never realized that they were dealing with a four star masochist who probably was having a grand old time taking everything they could dish out to her. In her ad Dana made no bones about her love for things painful.
On the other hand, the twins did not exactly get off home free. At fourteen these two were blossoming well ahead of schedule.Their cute little buns had been spanked and whipped soundly. I wondered if having their nipples burned repeatedly would leave permanent scars. One picture in particular turned me on. Evidently they had been worked over with a bamboo cane that had really dug into their soft flesh. It looked as if the girls were wearing red two piece bathing suits, and the way their eyes were bugging out, this was no fun at all to them.
We agreed upon the date and time for Dana to be photographed and measured in preparation for her session later in the month. At the time I knew that Marty and a couple of his guys would also be attending the filming. He gave me the impression that Marty, his guys and the twins would show afterward, giving me an opportunity to grab them back from Marty once their session was completed. You talk about the best laid plans of mice and men.
Satisfied with the arrangement as I thought it was, I headed back to my client's place to break the news to her about Larry's plans for her and the twins. He had reassured me that nothing could go wrong; he'd never lost an "actress", no matter how realistic his film appeared. It took some coaxing on my part, but at long last after a promise to give her a little cock while she waited for her body to do some healing, Dana Thompson mumbled yes to the deal.
She and Larry hit it off at the meeting. By then I'd managed to have all but one ring removed from her tongue and she could actually speak so she could be understood. He explained what her part in the film would be and what was expected of her. She added a few embellishments that brought a big smile to the film maker's face and happily did everything he asked as he measured her and took more photographs so he could prepare the mannequin representing her that would do all the heavy lifting so to speak. Larry confirmed the date of the shoot and told us what time to arrive. Realizing that his star was into pain in a big way, he cautioned her about adding any new major markings to her body. I vouched for her when it came to that area, now that I had accepted the responsibility for finding her daughters.
For the next three and a half weeks or twenty-five days, I counted everyone of them, it was fun and games with Dana Thompson. Going one on one in close quarters with a woman who is a masochistic nymphomaniac is no bed of roses. I began to regret removing most of the rings from her tongue; her mumbling would have been music to my ears when you consider the steady litany of complaints and pleading for sex that issued from her mouth. For the first few days she sort of rested up, regaining her strength; then it began.
She started prancing around the house in the all-together, vamping me every chance she got. I'd be on the couch watching a movie and she'd plant herself on my lap and start pushing those ruined, scabby tits into my face while she suggested in no uncertain terms that we head for the bedroom for some "hot sex", those were her words, and I grew to hate them. Somehow her whining and pleading for sex left me unmoved for a few days. However the urge to clean her clock started to develop in me, a very dangerous sign, and one I did not want to give in to. So against my better judgement, I escorted Dana Thompson to her bedroom in the early afternoon of the sixth day and she practically devoured me. She sucked like a vacuum cleaner, fucked like a mink and howled like a banshee for the rest of the afternoon and well into the early evening. By the time I extricated myself from her clutches, it felt as if I'd been through one of those laundry mangles.
It was all downhill from there. After a number of rematches that made me feel like every drop of moisture had been sucked from my body, I resorted to force when it came to our daily couplings. If anything, being in restaints and having her bottom tanned to a brilliant shade of red every day only increased her appetite for fun and games. It took all my willpower not to give into her suggestions that I whip her tits and pussy to get in the mood for some really funky sex with my psycho roommate.
Gradually she wore down my resistance. After all, I reasoned, she was beginning to look better and better as the bruises faded, the black eyes disappeared and most of the cuts healed. Dana doted on being tied up, the tighter the better. Once I started gagging her, things improved greatly. I began to bury the bone with a lot more enthusiasm when she wasn't able to bitch and moan about my failings when we did the nasty. Then we graduated to water sports, which was a win- win situation. She loved to go swimming in the toilet bowl, especially after it contained a few dumps and a couple of quarts of recycled beer. She also loved drinking it direct from my tap, opening wide and actually gargling with the piss before swallowing it with a big grin and a smack of her lips, which by now had healed completely.
She talked me into giving her daily enemas, suggesting ingredients to add to the water that was either close to boiling or mixed with crushed ice. Once she was securely plugged, I'd usually see how much of my stiff cock she could take while the enema distorted her intestines and bloated her belly from all the gas that was generated. Towards the end of this most trying period she had managed to talk me into not only giving her monster enemas, sometimes nearing a gallon of some ugly concoction, but combining them with forced ingestion of water to make her bloated belly grow to dimensions usually only seen in women in the final stages of pregnancy.
Things had now come full circle. I was the one torturing and humiliating my employer. I also was now photgraphing my efforts at turning her body into something that looked for a time to be totally abnormal. It was then that the realization set in that Dana and her twins needed a firmer hand and more vivid imagination than yours truly was capable of providing. This revelation came to me on the twenty-third day while I was sodomizing her for the second time during our daily sex session. She had already complained about straight and oral sex, claiming they didn't cause her any pain, a necessary part of good sex as far as the lady was concerned. However she did admit that rough treatment of her asshole still had some attraction for her, and so that was what she got as a steady diet. It was a relieved and happy trainer-teacher who escorted Dana Thompson to the studio where Larry awaited, eager to start his latest snuff epic.
Once we got to the studio she was like a little kid in a candy store. Larry was very happy to show her around and introduce Dana to the mannequin that would be doing the serious business of "dying" once that time arrived. She oohed and aahed at the mirrors and the three cameras that were cocked and ready to film her demise, at least that's what the viewers would be thinking. Meanwhile my costume had turned me into some kind of a ninja or cat burglar, ready to have my way with my helpless victim. Dana had been on a sex and pain free diet for the last day and a half, so she was hot to trot.
She got naked and received the high sign from Larry, as most of her serious injuries were no longer showing. With his help we soon had Dana hanging by her tightly bound wrists from a hook in the ceiling, legs spread wide as her tendons would allow and securely anchored by chain links running from the manacles on her ankles to ringbolts located in the floor. Almost every square inch of her bare, buxom body was now available for whatever Larry had dreamed up for his star to endure. Then Marty made his unexpected entry, accompanied by two of his men and the twins.
I realized immediately that I'd been had, but stayed cool, waiting for the situation to get a little clearer. Larry wasted no time making the introductions, which were not really necessary, and then urging Marty to don his costume and join me in working over Dana. The lady in question was staring at her former captor with wide eyes and a heaving chest. Damned if she wasn't glad to see the SOB! Once I recovered from the shock, it made a weird kind of sense. She was crazy about Marty since he and his friends had given her all the sex and pain the little nympho/pain slut could ever ask for and still live to enjoy it. I was odd man out; what a downer considering all the plans I had for her twins.
Speaking of the twins, they were strung out in the extreme. They looked like high fashion models that had gone overboard on their diets, or maybe teens who were into anorexia. The fact that they were skin and bones was only part of the problem; their eyes seemed unfocused, their faces blank. My guess was a regimen consisting of drugs such as meth, maybe some uppers for a change of pace, nothing substantial in the line of food and possibly sex stimulants to keep them interested in all the guys that probably had stretched and jammed their tight little twats and puckered buttholes in the last month. To sum it up, only those interested in necrophilia or stick chicks would be attracted to these two zombies.
Out of loyalty to Larry and a curiosity concerning how he was planning to make it look as if Dana had died horribly, I hung around and played second banana to Marty who went to town on Dana who loved every bone jarring minute of it. I drubbed her kidneys and those big boobs with a rubber truncheon, one made in the UK for use by their constables. Larry used her like a heavy puching bag, his fists boring deep into her soft belly and going even lower to smash against the mouth of her cunt that soon was oozing pussy sludge, indicating that he knew what buttons to push on this torture toy.
I continued to tattoo her private parts while Marty hooked a weight to the ring in her tongue and laughed as that pink, snakelike organ was extended to its limit. I went back upstairs to her chest, bringing gasps of pain from her as the rubber hose battered her ribs. Marty was busy putting barbs through her cunt lips and adding weights to stretch them to ridiculous lengths. Finally it was time for the grand finale. Dana looked like some badly decorated Christmas tree, weights hanging from all sorts of places on her naked body but Larry was humming with delight as his masterpiece built to the money shot. It was then that I learned one of his trade secrets, as if that would ever do me any good.
He was now operating all three cameras and going back and forth between Dana and the mannequin which was also festooned in the same identical pattern as Marty had created on his victim. Then Larry turned on a motor and a mirror began rotating, creating an almost seamless connection between Dana and the look-alike dummy. Dana was now hanging in a much different position, ankles and wrists tied tightly with wire and ropes attached to her battered tits, supporting the entire weight of her body. A noose was also knotted around her neck with a little slack in it.
Larry checked on the mannequin and his cameras while Dana's naked body slowly rotated in one direction and then back again, the dummy mirroring her movements. I watched open-mouthed as Larry splashed a solvent on the dummy and poured what smelled like alcohol over Dana. Marty did the honors by jamming a firecracker into Dana's twat and at a signal from Larry he lit the fuse and stepped back. Simultaneously the mannequin and Dana burst into flame.
Her screams were ear-splitting and eerie as she reacted to her body catching fire. Then Marty cut the ropes around her tits and her burning body fell about a foot until the noose stopped the plunge. She rotated and kept up this strangled shrieking that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. To me it seemed like Dana had been on fire for minutes rather than seconds. Suddenly Larry rushed forward and sprayed Dana's burning body with some kind of foam that put the fire out in the blink of an eye. That was not the case for the rather realistic dummy which continued to burn until it was a charred mess.
The last thing I saw afterward was Dana sitting on a bench in a robe watching her twin daughters, now stark naked, being hung by their wrists from a pair of hooks in the ceiling. The teens' bodies were gaunt and what used to be nice sets of blossoming tits had shrunk to something the size of crepes. Larry was racing around the set getting his machines and mirrors ready to once more create illusions worth big money from his adoring fans.
All things considered, I had done quite well for myself monetarily and Dana had been a nice piece of ass once I figured out the combination that made her tick. You win some and you lose some. This one had come out in my favor, so why complain? So there I was, reading my newsletter a month later and guess who had an ad in it? I figured Dana and Marty were no longer simpatico, but at least she and her twins were once more reunited. It takes all kinds. It was then that I homed in on an ad from a grandmother who needed a mean stud to assist her in the training and disciplining of her divorced daughter and teenage granddaughter. Now that sounded like the kind of challenge for me, three generations of pussy all under the same roof. What else could a guy like me want out of life?
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