Love Pillow

I’m wondering, if it was offered to me, if I would be able to find it within myself to refuse…
I mean it would be the ultimate bondage, the ultimate submissiveness. Isn’t that what I’m all about? Deep inside me, isn’t that what makes me tick… what makes me wet?
The very things that I… that we all take for granted if we have them, our way of getting around, our way of doing things for ourselves… without them we are useless. Without them we would have to rely on others for everything, for even the most basic human needs or activities. We would have to be fed, washed, taken everywhere, we would even have to be sat up, laid down; we would be totally at the mercy and kindness of others…
Totally at the mercy of other’s kindness…
Totally at the mercy of other’s… cruelty…
It would be horrific, I cannot imagine much worse, short of death. But yet I crave it, even as I write about it my sex throbs and I touch myself. I squirm on my seat and my juices stain the cushion. My bondage is helplessness, I need the thin cruel ropes that hold me in agonising pain, I must be helpless, at the mercy of my mistress, or at the mercy of the cruel rapist. I must be helpless as they torture me, fuck me, indulge themselves in whatever debased needs they have. I must be an object, a toy, fuckmeat.
I would struggle, I would fight with all my strength, but they would be too strong. I would remain conscious as they strapped me to the table, sinews straining against the cable ties that would hold me in their vicious unbreakable grip.
Their faces would leer over me as they injected my upper arms and thighs with local anaesthetic and my struggles would subside as the muscles relaxed and I would be still on the hard shiny surface of the table. You may think it an act of kindness, that they take away the pain of the physical trauma, but no… the physical pain is nothing compared with watching your arms and legs amputated and placed in the marinade.
First is the collar, steel, welded, immovable.
I am gagged because they grow tired of my pleas and move a large mirror into position, that I can watch the whole process. Soon the table runs with my fluids, its drainage hole mixing and spinning all the various colours and textures together and I am taken by merciful unconsciousness.
When I come round I am laid on a soft pillow on a soft bed and my hair is beautifully styled and fragrant. I am wearing a powder blue baby doll, sheer, with lace and satin ribbons. My face is professionally made-up and I glance appreciatively at my reflection in the ceiling mirror, I waggle my stumps.
Then I really come round… The derelict factory, the shuffling hoards of homeless guys, the smell of urine and cheap sherry and then…

Writer's Block

I’m sat at my computer wondering what to write about, I can’t seem to concentrate. Maybe the reason I can’t think is that my ankle is really hurting, I think it’s because I crossed it over the other one before I tied them to the post at the back of the typing chair and now the very thin cord that I used is rubbing agonisingly on the bone.
My mistress is away this week in Paris and I miss her. So I’m wearing the black vintage Van Raalte nylon slip that she wore to bed over the weekend, it’s creased and warm and smells of her… and me. I find the odd stiffened stain on it, mostly under the curve of my belly and the memory of Saturday afternoon in our bed fills my head. Our legs entwined and our most intimate areas locked together and her hand wound into my hair and tears in my eyes. It can be reactivated with a breath.
I’m smaller than she is and the lace cups of her slip scratch slightly and irritate the already hyper sensitive nipples of my bound breasts with every movement. My wrists are bound in front of my chest with the same thin cord as my ankles and tied to more cord around my neck, which in turn is tied to my ankles behind me. This means that with every letter I type I am cutting off air and blood to my head. I tried to tape my hands so that I could only use one finger on each to type, I couldn’t do it on my own, but I can only type with two fingers anyway (what! I’m an actress)
The two little vibrating balls are still buzzing along inside me and since I’ve been sitting here, I’ve come three times and done a little wee. The mistress’s panties, that she wore at the weekend, cycling, gardening and laughing, marked with her crusty white issue, a slight smell of wee and pooh, are stuffing my mouth. They are held there by an elastic self adhesive bandage that has been wrapped round and round my head. Black electrical tape is wound round and round over that and finally silver/grey duct tape that covers my head from under my chin, all over my face either side of my nose to my eyes. The only noise that I can make is deliciously pathetic and sounds far away.
The pain in my ankle is making me cry, I need the toilet and I’m going to come again and I still can’t think of anything to write…

Sold

I walked confidently, even though I was shaking uncontrollably, into the dimly lit and smoke filled room. The solid steel cuffs that rendered my wrists painfully and inescapably joined behind my back, lay incongruously on my trembling bottom and the diaphanous white dress that floated around me as I walked. It had seemed modest in the dull yellow lights of the foyer, but now as I walked into and out of bright shards of white light it hid nothing of my body beneath.
In the dark I could make out the shapes of women sitting in groups around tables, piled with empty wine bottles and the smoking butts of dozens of Havana cigars, occasionally the light caught a polished jack-boot or the insignia on a uniform, or a red arm band. I continued my journey through the gaps between closely set up tables, now and then a hand would find its way up under my dress, only to be thwarted by the harsh steel of the chastity device that indented the flesh around my waist and between my trembling legs. I sensed a gloved hand going straight to its owner’s nose after it slid over the metal, covering my cunt, its worn leather greased with my slick juices. But on I walked, leaving a mist of just bathed and perfumed fragrance in my wake, as I made towards a small clearing bathed in the intense whiteness of a spotlight.
The babble of voices in the room subsided as I was ushered to a post in the clearing and became a murmur of appreciation as my stainless steel collar was attached to a chain dangling from on top of it. I stood shaking in the bright scrutiny, my breasts heaving and my heart thumping at the inside of my ribs, into the light strode a woman with a duelling scar on her cheek. She came nearer and rubbed a gloved hand over the stubble of her shaved head, I looked fearfully at the cruel twist in her smile and the gold teeth that glinted in my eyes.
With a shocking and sudden movement she slapped the side of my face, which rocked my head violently to one side, slowly I looked up at her again, my eye twitching and blinking. She slapped me again and this time I felt a trickle of blood running down the side of my face, but I got the idea and looked down at the ground from then on. Her boots crunched loudly as she walked around me, squeezing my breasts or lifting my chin. Then she laughed loudly and turned me round so my back was to the audience and pulled my dress up to my waist. I squirmed and tried to retain some dignity, there was an audible gasp from the uniformed women as the horrendous blue and red welts covering the back of my legs were exposed. Then another murmur of pleasure as she pulled the open leg silk knickers to one side exposing my left cheek and the branded from childhood swastika that adorned it.
Another figure joined the woman and there was some whispering between them, then money changed hands and my new owner turned back to me and I saw the vicious ice blue eyes for the first time as they stared into my soul and turned my shit to water. Now hands grabbed me from all around and forced me to my knees, a wide leather belt was put between my teeth and pulled brutally back so my head was hard against the post. My hair that was piled elegantly on top of my head was pulled behind the post as well and two strong hands held my face from behind, my head was completely immobile.
I could smell the heat from the brand before I could see it and I struggled against the hands that held me, until my owner planted her boot firmly into my floating ribs and punched my breasts. Hot tears stung my eyes as the red hot metal neared my face and I sensed from some faraway place urine spraying out from beneath my chastity belt. I tried to scream but another belt was pulled round my neck and the noise stayed in my strangled throat. My hysterical brain couldn’t make out the number on the brand or the symbol next to it, but I knew that it would be big enough to cover my whole forehead and I felt the sweat on my head start to boil.
The last I remember is hearing the cheer from the crowd and smelling the burnt meat…

Taliban

Of course, I had wanted to change the world with my photographs and I was willing to take stupid risks to do it. How differently I would have had things now… or would I…
I wanted to tell the stories of the ordinary folk, the women and children caught up in the tribal fighting and the innocents who wanted neither the British, the Americans, nor the Taliban. Just me and my camera and my guide, fat lot of good he turned out to be.
I had been in the country exactly two days when I wandered into the Taliban camp, I had gone ‘native’ covered from head to foot, but they spotted my green eyes immediately. I believe there is footage of me shot with my own camera on the internet, tied naked to a post in the desert and my back being flayed to the bone with a vicious lash. Despite my horrible pain I fought them, I bit the first cock that was thrust into my mouth and they knocked out all my teeth.
They were constantly on the move, setting up camp at sunset and travelling again by the time the sun rose. During the day I walked as best I could, or was dragged, sometimes I was allowed to ride in one of the vehicles or a cart. My arms were kept bound tightly to a heavy piece of wood that ran across my shoulders, keeping me in a cruciform position all the time. Most of the time a short piece of wood was tied between my lips and gums gagging my agonised pleadings and making me dribble precious saliva down my front. My body and my head were covered until the evening camp, when I would be laid out on the floor of a tent and each of the forty or so warriors would take their turn to fuck me.
Over the months, I was punished for various misdemeanours, some sleight or other that I was deemed to have perpetrated, by having one of my fingers chopped off. But, I was past caring and by the time they started on my toes, I was only waiting for death.
Not all the men were horrible to me, some tried hard to be quite sweet when no one else was watching, but the cruel ones made up for them and on seeing who was coming next through the tent flap, I even occasionally managed a scream; until their fist connected anyway.
Once they washed me and dressed me up for a visiting tribal dignitary and I tried hard to flirt with him, thinking that he might like to buy me, but he gave me the worst beating of my whole time there… I think I nearly died. But no I carried on living, blind.
Sometime around the eighth month of my captivity there was an enormous battle. There had been skirmishes at other times and some of the men had gone off for a few days, now and again and not all of them always returned. But this was different, it was at night and it was very close and the men were scared. By the morning they had all gone and I lay for some time after sunrise wondering if I would be lying on the floor of this tent until I died. My arms were held by the wooden yolk across my shoulders and my neck was roped to a stake behind my head, my ankles were bound to a couple more stakes keeping my legs open and my cunt and arse easily accessible.
Suddenly there was movement outside the tent, the sound of heavy boots and the noise of military equipment, then the tent was swept open and several men crowded around me. I tried to speak but the wooden gag prevented anything intelligible. I felt the weight of someone kneeling by my head and then fingers untying the cord that held my gag. For the first time in months I felt a glimmer of hope… then I felt the weight of someone kneeling between my legs and the sound of zippers. Then the unmistakable timbre of black American voices and the unmistakable feeling of big black American cock at the lips of my pussy and another at the lips of my mouth…

Sisters

I turned my head as best I could. I could hear the ragged breathing of my sister Sara in the semi darkness of the stinking basement and I made what I thought was a sympathetic mmmphing noise. She stirred and made a similar sound in return and despite my horrific circumstances I felt a familiar warmth spread over my belly. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs how much I despised the terrifying religious cult that our family had been taken in by, but the last time I did it they had come in and stuffed my mouth with a tennis ball. My lovely Sara winked at me through the gloom with her good eye and I waved my unbroken fingers at her, as much as the vicious cable tie would allow.
We were both in the same position, with our necks attached to the wall by a metal band which was screwed into the concrete up against which we leaned. Our behinds were about three inches off the ground, supported by our aching legs and prevented from sitting on the floor by the bands round our throats. To add to this agony we had a two inch nail driven into each of our heels, preventing any relief we may have gained by being able to put our feet flat on the floor. We had been in this position for ten hours and our nostrils were full of the acrid smell of our stale urine.
I thought back to happier times, to the big old house of our happy childhood with it’s ivy covered walls and the gravel drive that always announced the return of our parents; giving us time to remove our fingers from each others underwear. Everyone just thought we were inseparable friends ‘God I wish mine got along like your two’ our mother would smile and pour more tea. There was a year or so between us, so in school we were in separate classes, but we would meet up at break times and hide away somewhere, or lay on the school field stealing kisses and fondlings. Sara took a gap year after school and so we went up to uni together, naturally we shared a room, our books, our clothes, our bed, our dildo and a huge amount of bodily fluids…
The metal door creaked open and the light from beyond silhouetted the form of a hooded man accompanied by the bitch from the cult, the skinny one with the far away look on her shiny smug face. They walked slowly towards us, as the door clanged shut behind them.
‘This man will be your executioner, if he is treated properly I’m sure he will be predisposed to ensuring your swift passage to wherever disgusting bitches like you go. If not… well let’s just say hanging isn’t always the quickest way to go. You have two hours to persuade him to be nice’
Two hours later he was gone and we were barely alive. He had fucked us and beaten us and cut us and done all manner of unspeakable things to our young bodies, which now resembled something from a butcher’s block. I looked down at the large knife wound in my breast and the blood and semen that trickled slowly and thickly from deep inside. Sara moaned and I tried to crawl to her over the sticky red floor and various fleshy parts that littered it. Eventually I managed to get my face to hers and cried as I saw her weak smile in the gloom.
The next day we were hanged.
They took us from the charnel house very early. Neither of us could walk so they dragged us along with our ruined feet leaving a trail of blood from the door to the gallows. There were a few of the self righteous fuckers there to watch, their bibles in their hands pressed against their chests and their glowing faces lifted towards a place where sisters don’t fuck each other.
They left us for a moment lying on the wooden boards beneath the nooses and despite the excruciating pain from my destroyed body and my black fingerless hands still bound behind me, I managed to get my bloody cunt onto my lovely Sara’s and with my tongue deep in her toothless mouth we frantically ground our pussies together. I wonder if there were some there that day that would have granted us one last orgasm, well they kept very quiet and the next thing we knew we were being held upright and the ropes were tightening around our necks.
No trapdoors here, no swift snap of the neck, just a stool to stand on and then a slow eye popping, pissing, shitting, bleeding, gasping, lung bursting and agonising decent into a long painful death.
We tried desperately to stay standing on our mutilated feet as the hooded man came forward, in his hand he held a rope attached to each of the stools on which we trembled. Then from the small crowd our mother appeared and hope for a moment blazed in our wretched hearts, but it was cruelly and devastatingly extinguished when she reached up and took the black hood from… our father’s head.
He pulled sharply on the ropes

Betrayed

So I'm lying snuggled up in my cosy, safe bed, with my huge nine month belly and massive milkfilled breasts barely contained by the sheer black chiffon of my babydoll nightie. I'm on my side so the weight of all this flesh is kinda lying next to me, huge belly and one huge tit on top of the other one.
The baby seems to be contented and asleep and I lay dreaming of the day that I will hold her, not long now maybe only hours.
I'm just dozing off, when the quilt is lifted and who I assume is my husband slides in behind me. A hand snakes under my neck and it is only when I smell the rubber and feel the gloved hand close over my mouth, that I realise I'm in trouble. A scalpel is held against my throat drawing blood, which trickles down onto the crisp white sheet. The man is up against me, we are spooning, but this is not a loving embrace. I feel his breath in my ear.
'listen cunt! do exactly as I say or I'm going to slice you up into little tiny pieces. Do you understand... cunt!?'
I try to communicate that I'll do whatever he wants and just don't hurt the baby, he bites my earlobe until his teeth meet and I piss myself.
Now he pulls my arms back behind me and ties my wrists brutally together with thin cord which bites into my flesh.
His voice is a harsh jagged whisper in my trembling ear.
‘Ok mummy rub my cock, make me hard'
I do as I'm told and moving my hands awkwardly and painfully I manage to get my fingers round his implausibly thick shaft. While I pull up and down on this monster the man is pulling my cheeks apart and I can feel lube, cold against my warm flesh. He applies the gunk to my backside rubbing his finger around and then in and out of my little puckered bum-hole, then deeper and deeper until his thick finger is sliding in and out of my slippery opening. Hot tears are stinging my eyes.
Now I feel the head of his cock against my hole and I brace myself, he holds my thigh with one hand and keeps the other clamped over my mouth.
Aaaaarrrrgghhh! I scream into his hand as I am impaled on his rock hard cock and again as he pushes deeper and deeper inside me.
'Move your butt cunt, don't just lie there, how do you expect to keep a man?'
He laughs horribly and pumps into me like a piston. Where is my husband, when will he rescue me?
He doesn't stop, he just goes on and on banging away in me, I'm finding it hard to breath as my crying has blocked up my nose, snot runs down my cheek mingling with my tears. To my horror I can feel my orgasm starting to build, my own body is going to betray me. He is still going, bang, bang, bang his balls thumping against my pussy. His hands now squeezing my swollen tits through my nightie which is soaked in milk and it's building Oh God, OH GOD, I can't believe this bastard is going to make me come, Oh... Oh...
OH SWEET BABY FUCKING JESUSSSSSSSSSS
I've never felt so dirty, my arsehole makes a plop sound as he pulls his lovely cock out of me. He is still rock hard.
'Turn round cunt, clean it up with your slutty little mouth'
With some difficulty I manage to turn over in the bed, I am drenched in sweat, snot, mother’s milk, blood and piss.
For the first time I face the object that has defiled me, it's magnificent, glistening and throbbing in front of my face. I open my mouth as wide as I can, it hurts my jaw to do so. There is shit on his cock, greedily I get as much of the thing in my mouth as I can, he holds my head and rams it in the rest of the way, right down my throat. He comes straight away and pulls out, spraying his goodness all over. Up my nostrils, into my hair, in my eyes, I try to lick up what I can. He looks at me with total disdain.
'Slutty, dirty, little bitch cunt. what sort of a mother would you have made?'
'What do you mean?'
I ask suddenly afraid again.
He gets up and walks over to my laundry basket, then he hefts a bag from the floor onto the bed.
'Guess you're wondering where your no good husband is eh, cunt. Well your knight in shining armour is in a bar getting pissed with his new girlfriend and I'm here to collect the baby that he sold me'
I try to say, no this can't be happening, but before any sound can be made he is stuffing my mouth with dirty thongs from the wash. He manages to get three into me pushing the damp musty material right into the corners of my mouth, into the hinge of my jaw. Now he wraps black electrical tape round and round my head, covering the lower half of my over expanded face.
'You may be interested to know that I've already got a buyer for your little girl'
He is throwing a rope over one of the exposed beams above the bed.
'It's an internet company, specialises in kiddie porn and snuff movies, so I don't suppose your kid will get to be very old but at least she won’t die a virgin’
I am paralysed with fear and anger as he starts to bind my ankles to the tops of my thighs and then rips off my sodden nightclothes. With some difficulty he gets me up to a kneeling position and I realise that the rope he threw over the beam has a noose on the end; he puts it over my head. All I can do is shake my head in disbelief as he pulls the rope tight so that I am only just touching the bed with my knees. He starts to bind the thin cord tightly round the base of my breasts, causing milk to spurt in all directions from my huge teats. Then he hauls on the rope and my knees rise above the bed, the rope creaks and I swing slowly. My head feels as if it will explode and I can see stars, I'm still getting a little air but if the rope shifts in any way it will be over very quickly.
'I was hoping that fucking you would induce the birth, but you were so busy having a good time you missed your opportunity to live. So I'm afraid that you are going to have to have an emergency C-section’
He raises his hand to my face to show me the scalpel and then slowly, deliberately, with his eyes starring into mine he lowers his hand to my belly and I feel the tip on my taught skin. There is a sharp movement, a flopping sound, a stinking hot steam assails my nostrils and a feeling of lightness as I drift away…
From the darkness I hear my daughter crying…

Hitching

Destiny, I would say.
They would say ‘She was a ray of sunshine in the world’ ‘A lovely friend, such a tragedy’
They would be thinking ‘She’s always been a crime waiting to happen’ ‘She was never going to live to old age’ ‘She wanted it...’
Were they right? Was I always going to spend the last journey of my life in a car boot? I had about an hour to think of such things, a life time to become a philosopher in a sack as I bounced around the small space that my bound body shared with some tools and a picnic blanket. I had calmed down after half an hour of serious struggle, during which time I had caused a great deal of discomfort to myself and hadn’t loosened any of the wires that held me in their loving embrace. Vaguely the idea that I may be sick and choke on my own vomit on the journey to my own demise, slightly rankled and I willed my stomach to at least let me experience my last painful hours or minutes without a premature death from travel sickness.
They were right of course, I had dreamed of this moment since I had been a small child. In fact the only child I could imagine who used to hang around after school, hoping that a stranger would offer me a lift or a sweetie, while my juvenile juices soaked my regulation school underwear. I spent my adolescence ignoring advice about secluded paths and travelling on my own and I was hitching lifts into my early twenties.
When it happened it came right out of the blue and I surprised myself by how hard I fought; as if I didn’t really want it at all... and I didn’t, although there was something strangely comforting and familiar about the language of abduction. The liberal use of the words bitch and cunt, were from a thousand daydreams, a thousand fantasies, but I wasn’t prepared for the agony of the thin wire that was used to bind my arms and legs; the cruel wire that sank into the flesh of my ankles through my tights and now exposed my very bones to their spiteful grip.
He must have been surprised when I let him push the dirty stinking panties of his last victim into my mouth. I could taste her blood and the idea thrilled me to my very womb. He had pulled them from a plastic sandwich bag and i had a vision of my own knickers keeping fresh in the fridge, ready for another girl like me. Thank God i had rejected the idea of wearing cotton pants this morning; i mean on looking under my dress and finding a dull old pair of pants... well he might have let me go! They were baby pink, with an inch of white lace round the top and round each leg
and on the front they had a hot pink satin ribbon bow, with a tiny pearl at its centre. Now they were half way down my thighs tangled up in my tights, he had taken the opportunity to feel me up a little before shoving me in the boot and slamming the lid. I could still feel his touch.
I was covered from head to waist in a plastic sack, it smelled of something vaguely garden like although i couldn’t place exactly what had been in it before me. He had put it over me and then wrapped tape around my waist, my neck and my head, breathing was difficult and I had to work hard to stop the panic rising and overwhelming me.
The car slowed and stopped, then I heard the sound of hard soles on concrete and felt a rush of fresher air on my hot exposed sex as the boot was opened. Strong hands swung me into a sitting position with my legs dangling over the tail gate and then tightened around my neck and lifted me up and clear of the car.
I sensed the closeness of the knife rather than felt it, as the sack was cut away from me and I sniffed in huge lungs full of air. My captor stood in front of me, his eyes, beautiful brown eyes, took in my appearance through the slits in the ski mask. What a sight I must have been, my face slick and my hair plastered to my skin, my dress crumpled and soaked in sweat unable to fall back down over my thighs and cover the neat triangle of soft red hair above my oozing slit. I stood on shaking legs and raised my head slightly to look into those lovely eyes and saw the hammer in his fist only for a second as it began its arc towards my face…
I came to on what appeared to be filthy mattress, my face was stuck to its surface by the dried blood around where my left eye used to be. It must have had a pattern on it once; it would have been something that was part of someone’s bedroom, someone’s life. It would have been warmed by the early morning sun and the sleepy bodies on top of it, it may have been gently stained by the passions of its occupants, or even seen procreation at work, the beginnings of life…
I felt a weight behind me and I knew he was naked. Slowly and softly a rough hand trembled above the tiny downy hairs of my neck and moved down over my shoulder, sliding my dress and bra straps down to where my elbows were bloodily wired together. I moaned softly as the hand cupped my breast and gently rolled the nipple between strong fingers and thumb and then moved slowly down over my dress, the rough skin catching on the silky material and then the flesh of my thigh. A finger tracing the line of my buttock to my exposed and hungry gash, opening me, sliding in and out of me, loving me…
I felt the head of his cock at my labia and willed them to part for him and I felt his mouth on my neck and turned as best I could to kiss his sweet lips, as he gently penetrated my hymen and drew the open razor across my throat. My breath caught in my chest as the membrane tore and he filled me, my throat gaped and my life blood sprayed in an arc on the wall and from somewhere a ridiculous gurgling sound played in my head as he thrust into me and my love bled out over the garage floor.
I felt his orgasm build inexorably and as darkness came I heard his scream and I thanked God that he had given me the strength to wait for the right guy…

Weekend Break

You've invited me to go for a long weekend in the mountains and I'm all wet and excited about the prospect of a few days with your lovely cock constantly in one of my holes. But, when you come to pick me up I discover that you've hired a minibus and there are about a dozen of your colleagues with you. I spend the six hour drive bound to a seat on my knees during which time you and all your buddies fuck me in the face, until I'm sick down my front.
It turns out that one of your colleagues is a medic and on arrival at the cabin, where we are all staying, I am given a general anesthetic. When I come round my arms have been amputated and are marinating in garlic and rosemary to go on the barbecue that night. Apparently my teeth had grazed some of you during the journey and so most of them are knocked out with a hammer. So I won't be tempted to run away the tendons at my heel and behind my knees are sliced through, I will never walk again!
That night you make love to me tenderly and I dream of what could have been. I quite enjoyed the meat that I was allowed.
My hair is platted into two pigtails and bound tightly with rope to form handles, these are used to drag me from bed to bed and person to person for my duties. Sometimes three of four guys fuck and beat me at once, I can no longer tell the difference between the taste of blood and semen.
It is time for the party to go home; gently you explain to me that I am no longer required. I think about begging for my life.
The minibus is loaded and everyone is ready to go I am staked out on the ground in the full glare of the rising sun. I am given a good fucking and beating from everyone before they board the minibus for the trip back. The sun is getting hotter and hotter and my eyelids are sliced off. With my head held fast between wooden stakes hammered into the ground my eyes are looking directly into the sun, I will be blind by midday.
My ruined legs are spread wide and bound to stakes at my ankles; I am naked and already starting to burn.
The minibus pulls away and I am alone. But then it stops and you run back to me, your boots crunching on the hot ground, I squint up at you in the relentless sun, your shadow momentary respite from its torture. The images that invade my brain are of a pampered existence as your fucktoy, some cosmetic surgery and some sympathetic body modification, a life giving pleasure… useful…adored… alive…
You stand above me and piss on my unprotected eyeballs. You bend down and with your hunting knife you slice off my breasts. You whisper in my ear, that you will roast my titties in the oven when you get home and slice them into a sandwich that you will eat that evening while watching TV
A tear trickles from my unblinking eye into my ear...

The Thing About Torture

The thing about torture… is the… waiting…
The anticipation of the unbearable, it’s about what they do to your mind as much as what they do to your body… they show you all their toys… all the hard and brutal things and they compare them with you… and your delicate soft flesh… waiting…
And now i sit here in this metal box, it’s very small, too small for me really and the rusty sides have already chafed me, because i am bent and crushed into the tiny space. The bottom has an inch of liquid in which my flesh marinates, piss, snot, tears and blood… they tell me not to worry, when i am returned to my box i will fit in quite easily. When i am taken through the soundproofed iron door, the box will be here… waiting…
Through the door is a table, they showed it to me. It’s old and has a grainy, gently undulating wooden surface, that has been scrubbed and sanded over many years, but it has a patina and a varnish made of women’s fluids. It’s huge and heavy like a giant butcher’s block… of course… that’s what it is. It has holes, almost healed, in that way that wood repairs itself, closing gashed fibres and filling in space; a living thing that has seen so much death… waiting…
There are metal things… huge nails with large round flat heads and square shafts that narrow from a good inch at one end to a wicked point at the other. They are encouraged through the skin and bone and tendons of your feet and hands, with a heavy iron mallet which has a rubber handle to protect the user. There are saws, medical instruments that in a world that i have left, are used to remove irreparable or diseased limbs… with anaesthetic, but here they only work to agonise and destroy. There are pliers and pincers and knives… and scalpels, the things of insanity and chains, hung from the ceiling with meat hooks on the end, large for wrists and small for nipples and tongue… swinging slowly… waiting…
At one end of the table is a frame with a two inch wide metal band that will circle my head, there are four short screws that will twist into my skull and hold my head immovable, they will slice off my eyelids… so i can see my deconstruction on the monitor above. There are long rubber aprons and gloves and Wellingtons, underneath which my butchers will be naked, erect… on the wall there are the trophies, a dozen or more sets nailed onto a large wooden plaque; a nose, two ears, two breasts, a cunt, a tongue. One set from every woman that has ended here… and a space at the end… just … waiting…

Hermione and Bellatrix

Bellatrix cut Hermione free from the other prisoners, then dragged her by the hair into the middle of the room while Greyback forced the rest of them to shuffle across to another door, into a dark passageway, his wand held out in front of him, projecting an invisible and irresistible force.
Hermione tried to appear defiant in the clutches of the evil witch, but she was unable to prevent her legs from shaking.
‘Now, little mudblood, let’s find out what you know shall we’ Bellatrix’ face was right up against the terrified teen, who turned her eyes away lest she revealed the extent of her fear. From nowhere a thin rope wound itself around Hermione’s neck and tightened, almost pulling her off her feet, her toes danced perilously close to thin air as she struggled to get oxygen into her heaving chest. At the same time more rope wound itself around her wrists and pulled them high up behind her back and tied them with brutal strength to her cascading red hair, pulling her head back and forcing her to look straight up at the chandelier above them.
Bellatrix strutted round the unfortunate girl, from somewhere behind the untidy explosion of black hair sounded a quiet but pellucid and cruel cackle, as she flicked her wand and left Hermione standing in her cotton bra and pants. She looked down at the small pert breasts and sniggered.
‘Not really any need for that is there little girl’ and with that she raised the knife and sliced through the front of the white bra and then the straps, it joined the rest of Hermione’s robes on the floor. The death-eater gripped the wobbling mounds of flesh with both hands and sank her talons into the soft skin, twisting both breasts until Her captive let out a terrible drawn out scream.
Now she turned her attention to the white panties, she knelt in front of the trembling Hermione and hooked a couple of black painted nails into the sides of the cotton garment, slowly she slid the waistband down over the trembling hips. With a satisfied snort she acknowledged the stains of the young girl’s anxieties in the warm material and raised one eyebrow at the unexpected lack of red growth on the delightfully wobbling soft mound.
She stood back ‘CRUCIO’ she screamed and Hermione’s body went rigid for one terrible second and then as the spasm relaxed the air was rent by her excruciated scream. There was a demonic aspect to the face of her tormentor now as the relish with which she did her work was etched upon her terrifying features. More curses flew in quick succession and Hermione’s body danced like an out of control puppet, urine adding to the stains on her underwear still clinging to her uncontrollably shaking legs. Bellatrix calmed suddenly, turning from her victim and breathing heavily as the unfortunate girl went limp, held up only by the ropes around her neck and wrists.
With a sharp flick of her wand Bellatrix cut the rope around Hermione’s neck and the girl fell to her knees choking in lungs full of air, then the evil witch knelt down in front of her victim and pulled layers of black skirts and petticoats up to her waist. Hermione blinked at the torn stockings and the bruised white thighs above them and then with a start realised that she was looking directly into Bellatrix gaping cunt. She instantly gagged at the rancid stench and the thickly oozing brownish liquid that seeped onto the terrible witch’s abused flesh.
‘Yes little mudblood bitch, this is a path oft trod by the dark Lord, come taste him’
She wound a handful of bony fingers into Hermione’s hair and pulled the trembling girl’s face towards her wretched dripping slit. Frantically she resisted, scrabbling on the floor to get away, but the older witch was far too strong and cringing and crying the girl’s mouth was forced up to the foul opening. Hermione breathed in the disgusting smell and something strange started to happen to her, it seemed that the essence of the abomination was now coursing through her veins and then a sudden, massive orgasm ripped through her body like a white hot knife!
Bellatrix threw her head back and screamed with laughter as the bewitched girl gobbled greedily at the godless fuckhole, her body bucking like an animal on heat and moaning like a dirty two bit whore.
Part of a series that will probably take around ten years to complete, watch out for part two which will be released at a bookshop near you at midnight sometime in 2009

Nice Doggy

I mourned my life for the first few months and even now i think about what could have been, University, a great job, a husband a family... a dog
The transformation had taken about four months and for much of that time i had been kept sedated or unconscious; twenty three operations, so much pain, so many tears.
The worst thing was learning to walk on the stumps of my arms and legs, you would be amazed at the mobility i have now if you had seen me then. I can even walk for a few steps on my hind legs and do the begging thing with my front ones, they all like that!
Of course i cried for a couple of days when i woke to find that they had taken my vocal chords, but i can make them understand most things. You know like, want food, want water, need to go out in the garden, why have you turned me into a freak and my life into a living hell!?
They did get me some counselling after my sixth suicide attempt.
The removal of a few ribs made it much easier for me to be able to clean my bum and i have to say i was grateful that that also meant i could pleasure myself.
It was a very comfortable home i have to admit and... don’t tell anyone this, when the master was away on business she, you know, the wife, let me sleep in her bed. She was much more gentle than he was and sometimes i wonder if i may not have been a little bit in love with her. I had a pair of her dirty panties that i had hidden in my kennel, they had a urine streak and a little poo stain and i would lick and chew them as i lay there in the dark and cold.
The kids seemed to love me, but i began to notice the older boy had started to take an interest in my cunt and i don’t think it would have been very long before i got a nocturnal visit. Of course the girls still only wanted to ride me around the house and play dress up, which was kind of humiliating.
One day i caught a glimpse of myself in the full length mirror in her wardrobe, the door was open and it made me sad to see my reflection next to her skirts and dresses hanging there and all her lovely shoes. I lay down and cried for a while, the master found me and beat me, then threw me out into the garden in the wind and rain. I had a snuffly nose for a week.
On the plus side, although i was a freak, i was an extraordinarily beautiful freak. They really did make a great job of me, my tail was made from my own hair and i loved my pretty little ears and my pretty little wet black nose. My markings were gorgeous and my very realistic short fur was soft and glossy, everybody made a fuss of me. I loved it when they started stroking my back and i rolled over so they can get to my tits and my cunt and my now huge tongue lolled out of my mouth and i started to slaver and pant.
Things i hated:
The choke chain
When she went out with the girls and he had a card game at home and i had to suck all their cocks under the table
The basement where my kennel was, it was cold, dark and scary
Dog food
My parents for selling me
Going to the vet’s
The Postman
The name Misha! why couldn’t i at least have kept my own name?
Things i loved:
Sleeping in her bed
Lying in the garden in the sun
Leftovers from their dinner
My basket in the kitchen
But it’s all over now, my almost comfortable acceptable life is over, the master has said i’m being sold. Apparently it was the last straw when i got stuck in the kitchen when they went to work and pooed on the floor. Even she was cross with me and he... well he went apeshit and hung me up in the basement by my collar and beat me nearly to death. He broke all my ribs and my cheekbone and five teeth and ruptured my spleen. The vet said that i was lucky to be alive... i don’t feel lucky to be alive.
The new owners are coming for me today, they’re white supremacists and were very excited by the idea that my mother was Jewish and that i no longer have any teeth. Apparently dogs aren’t allowed in their house at all and i will be living in the compound with their fifteen Rottwiellers and ten Bull Mastiffs, all males.
She is crying and the kids are wailing, the littlest girl has given me her favourite rag dolly, which i am carrying in my mouth. I tried not to go, i whimpered and cried and made silent anguished faces at them all, but he dragged me out of the house by my hair. I take one final look back through tear filled eyes and he kicks me in my cunt and i wish i still had teeth.
He shakes hands with the man with no hair and the swastika tattoo on his neck, i look at the pickup... with the cage on the back. The man takes my lead and lifts me onto the truck, he fingers me as he shoves me in through the cage door, then rips the dolly from my mouth and throws it away.
The cage slams shut and the engine starts and i want to die... it’s a woman’s life.

Stuff

i don’t know if you’re interested, but i’ve had a lot going on in my life recently and it’s meant that my cyber world has been a little neglected.
i fell head over heels in love with a young woman, with a one year old baby and we had a passionate, intense affair. i left my long term partner and Mistress for a while and it was all pretty fucked up for a time. i guess in the end, it was only ever an ‘affair’ and would never have been the idyllic life of ‘two women and a baby’ that i imagined for a delicious few weeks that it might be. With the collusion of my interfering mother (i’m not as ungrateful as i sound) my lovely Nuella wooed me back and we are now happily making wedding plans (With the aid of my mother!)
i have also been involved in a fairly long term theatre project, which has kept me pretty busy and away from my housewifely duties and unfortunately away from the computer as well. Nuella has also spent most weekends punishing me for my slutiness and i have spent a great deal of time bound and gagged in excruciatingly uncomfortable positions, having my very sore holes violated over and over… poor me!
i must apologise most to my online Mistress, Susan, to whom i have been very tardy in reporting and must admit to publicly, that i have let some of my slave duties lapse a little. i look forward to her punishment… very much.
Nuella has made me wear a metal chastity device most of the time, so my normal copious masturbation has also been curtailed of late, imagine how i look forward to the weekends!
Please spare a thought for my little friend Alysha (alyshapig on 360) who was recently attacked and raped in the real world. Fantasy should never become reality, except between consenting adults and disgusting male raping filth should be eviscerated.
On my knees at your feet Miss Susan, with love…

Birthday Present

Friday night i had an early birthday present; it was so extraordinary that I thought I would share it with you. My partner told me that i was going out, but she would not say where, although she laid out the clothes that she wanted me to wear on the bed and when i had had my shower, she dressed me.
i was required to wear a deep waisted suspender belt and vintage fully fashioned nylon stockings, white lace undies and a full length nylon slip. Then she made me sit at our dressing table while she blow dried my hair and applied my make-up. There is something deliciously intimate about having someone dress you and hook up your stockings and pull up your knickers. She finished me off with lovely black pointy ‘fuck me shoes’ and a black beaded 50’s cocktail dress with some simple silver jewellery.
We drove into London and by the time we arrived i was becoming uncontrollably excited. Keiko, her little Japanese pet had come to stay for the weekend and i had up till this point been feeling a little neglected as i never get to play with it myself and although she doesn’t have to do much to get Keiko’s blind unquestioning obedience; i can feel a little jealous now and then.
We booked into a very expensive ‘boutique’ hotel, into the most luscious and luxurious designer suite, it must have cost a bomb… oh well i’m worth it!
Nuella popped out of the room for a few moments while i sat elegantly in all the lovely chairs and practised perching sexily on the side of the bed, with a bit of lacy slip showing and some wrinkles in my stockings.
i imagined that she had gone to sort out a fabulous room service dinner, but when she returned she ushered in the two biggest black guys i think i’d ever seen. They were dressed in sharp grey suits with open white shirts, all very expensive looking and a little intimidating. One of them was carrying a black holdall which he placed on the bed next to me. i quickly pulled my dress down to cover my slip and i believe i may have blushed. (Not the sort of thing you can normally expect from me)
Nuella walked over to me and beckoned me to stand, she put her lips to my ear and said ‘Happy Birthday darling, i’ll see you in the morning’ She kissed me, then turned and nodded to the two guys, dropping the room key into one of their huge hands and said ‘Look after my baby for me’ and then she was gone.
As you can imagine i was a little shell-shocked and confused, but i soon cottoned on and by the time they started to bind my wrists and elbows i was moaning like a two dollar whore. One of them held me up in the air from behind while the other frog tied my legs, all the while their massive hands roamed freely over my most intimate parts, the soft materials yielding to soft yielding dripping flesh. They made me kneel on the floor while they undressed, i was panting, literally panting like a filthy bitch on heat by the time the first thick black cock was forced down my throat…
Next morning, I felt like a rag doll, i’d been like a toy in their hands, they threw me around as if i had no substance at all, they kept at least two holes constantly occupied throughout the whole night and they were big, i mean big and they were tireless. Although i am not known for my coyness, i cannot even bring myself to tell you what depths my degradation reached that night, suffice to say that the thought of it makes me blush even though there’s no one else here! Not to mention the fact that i still can’t walk properly nearly 36 hours later.
Nuella picked me up the next morning and i couldn’t speak even to say what a lovely birthday present she bought me. We’ve had to throw my slip and knickers away as there’s no way they’ll ever get clean, not to mention the sheets in the hotel; i daresay there’ll be an extra bill to pay there!
i haven’t even told her everything that i did; well a girl’s got to have some secrets… non?
…Like the two new mobile numbers that have appeared in my phone…

Kidnap

It was three days, only three short days before they tired of me. Tired of hurting me, tired of beating me, raping me, calling me hideous, horrible names and finally tired of letting me stay alive.
I tried to savour it all, every last drop of my life, unpleasant as it was. I tried to live the last three days, I mean live, you know like it was all there was…
I tried to glean what pleasure I could from it, the odd scrap of food, a sip of water. Jesus, I even took the awful things they said about my body as compliments, anything to hang on to the fact that I existed as a person, as me, as something other than an object.
The filthy mattress that I had lain on for three days had become so comfortable that I would have taken any amount more torture just to be able to remain on its disgusting stained pattern; so much of my bodily fluids were in it, it was probably as much me as I was.
The youngest, most sensitive of them cried when they came for me. I liked him, he was probably just weak and easily led, the first time he tried to rape me, he couldn’t get it up. It was quite sweet, the others laughed and showed him how. How to treat a woman right, how to make her bleed and how to make her beg you to stop; which I have to admit I did at first.
It was probably best that they killed me, to be honest I don’t think I would have survived if I’d been rescued, or escaped. My hands had been bound so tightly for so long that I couldn’t feel them after about the second day, the blood would have clotted in my veins; I didn’t even feel them cut off my fingers.
When they stood me up, they had to support me, they even had to hold my head up for me and drag my feet along the cold stone floor. I could feel the remnants of my dress floating around my knees as we made our way to the door, reminding me of cooling summer breezes that whip the hem so you have to push it down to stop lascivious eyes from peeking. It was white cotton broderie anglaise, although it was mostly red now and torn and stinking. I caught a glimpse of my panties on the floor and remembered when we happy band first met. How at first I thought I would get away with being raped. There hands all over me, my desperate struggles and those panties ripped from me and stuffed, soaked in my urine, into my mouth. The layers of duct tape wound round my head and the sack over the top half of my body and tape, more and more tape round and round me; one of them had fucked me there and then, in my own home. The others managed to wait until we got here, wherever here is. I cried a lot at first and screamed until I lost my voice, they didn’t care, I think they liked it. They bound my wrists and elbows with thin wire and every movement caused blood to ooze from beneath it; it’s stopped now.
The door to the next room is opened and beyond in the gloom of the stark industrial building a noose hangs, it swings slowly in the breeze from an open door, from which several of my tormentors enter.
In that split second I want to live.
I try to stop our forward motion; try to put my foot down, put on the brakes. My foot bends backwards it is only hanging on by the fact it is encased in my flesh, but I jam the stump into the floor and struggle as much as I can; all the strength I have left, every last ounce of me. They laugh and our progress towards the rope is not held up for a second.
Mercifully I don’t have to stand on my own two ruined feet, the rope round my neck holds me an inch above the ground. They bind my legs together, I am to have no last orgasm, I try to remember the last one, this morning was it? Yes and I think it was the nice lad, I’m glad it was him.
The rope is creaking under my weight and I am panicking, I can feel the panic and I welcome it. My lungs are on fire, I am only inches off the ground I can almost reach it. They are standing around me with clubs and iron bars, it feels as though my eyes may burst… I have pissed and shat myself. They are laughing, except for him, he is crying.
I feel maybe four or five of the blows and am aware from somewhere that bones are breaking, but I can’t tell if they’re mine, it doesn’t hurt any more…

The Gym

It was all my sister’s fault, getting tangled up with Russians i knew they were dodgy. We’d always wanted the gym, it was like a dream since we were kids, but why she had to borrow money from Kiril… and why in god’s name she ever thought it would be okay to double cross him!
They showed me pictures of what they’d done to her before she died, I pissed my pants. They showed me what they’d done to her daughter, my beautiful sweet darling niece Daisy, I was sick down my front and they laughed. She was only ten.
When they raped me i looked into their eyes, looking for some hint of humanity. i saw only cold hard steel and it sliced through my poor aching heart. The fourth one didn’t want me, i think he was gay, but i don’t think he knew, he just kicked me until i lost consciousness.
They dragged me to my feet and held me up by my neck, the moonlight cut through the inky dark and illuminated our shuffling group towards the rows of gym cycles standing quiet and ghostly in the weird light. They made me strip myself of my torn clothing, the piss filled panties from around my ankles and my vomit stained dress. They made me do it with broken fingers.
Kiril stepped forward his image swimming in my tear-filled eyes. i looked at him, surely there was something there, something that i could use to at least save my life. i thought about Daisy, poor sweet Daisy her tiny body torn and brutalised and i knew there was nothing i could do.
They sat me on one of the exercise bikes, their semen running out of me and coating the plastic, my buttocks settled in the wetness. My hands, with my fingers shattered and dislocated and pointing off in all different directions, were wired to the handlebars by the wrists. The ends of the wire, coat hangers i think, although i don’t know why that’s important, were twisted and twisted until my flesh started to blacken. A similar thing was done to attach my feet to the pedals. My tears ran down over my bruised breasts causing an electrifying pain in the hole where my left nipple had been bitten off.
The gay one was pulling what looked like two small freezer bags out of a briefcase. Kiril looked at me and said simply ‘Stand up cunt’
i did as I was told and one of the bags was shoved into my pussy. i looked at him and tried to say ‘Please Kiril’ but no words came. The bag was cold inside me. The staple gun clicked twenty times and my labia were closed forever. i was commanded to sit while the other bag was forced into my mouth, opened by a gloved thumb pressed agonisingly into my jaw. It tasted vile and I had to fight hard not to vomit again. Tape was wound round and round my face sealing it in, my eyes darted from one blank cruel face to the other, my gut-wrenching fear growing inexorably towards blind panic.
Kiril put his mouth to my ear ‘You see my dear, the money is of very small importance, this is really about not losing face. Especially losing face to a couple of cunts like you and your cunt sister. But, let it not be said that I am not a fair man, I am going to give you a chance’
For the first time a smile threatened to soften his face, but when it arrived it was even more frightening than the blank expression. i emptied my bladder again, the liquid spraying out from behind several of the cruel steel bands that closed my sex.
He didn’t seem to notice and carried on in his soft terrifying accent ‘The bags inside you contain plastic explosive and in a moment we will leave you here. The detonators will be wired to the speedometer of this exercise machine and you will have a period of ten minutes to build up to a speed of at least 30kph. After that time if you allow the speed to drop below 30kph the explosive devices in your mouth and cunt will blow everything in this room into a million tiny pieces!’ He smiled properly now ‘They won’t find enough of you to put in a grave.
They didn’t even look back at me, the gay one waited until the others had left and wired the speedo up to two silvery grey pieces of metal about the size of a pencil. The pointed end of the first of these he placed against my belly just above the pubic bone. i realised what was about to happen just too late and the shock of the pain as he pushed it through me and into the bag inside me, almost made me slip once more into unconsciousness. i fought the woozy nauseous feeling and tried to breathe hard through my nostrils. The next detonator went through my cheek into the bag in my mouth, but i was almost ready for that one and i fought, i fought for my life.
Without a word he went and i started pedalling and pedalling. i pedalled with every ounce of my strength. It was 10pm now, the cleaner would be in at 7am tomorrow morning, an hour more to get the bomb squad. Okay, i only had to pedal this thing at 30kph for around ten hours and i’d live, i could do this…
11.15pm people living around the area where the gym was, reported hearing what sounded like a dull thud.

The Best Day of My Life

As i walked down the aisle on my dad’s arm, i had a very real sense of being given away. Rob turned slightly as we approached i could see him trying not to look at me. A tear squeezed out of the corner of my beautifully made-up eye and started its happy/sad course down the gentle curve of my cheek. My dress rustled, acres of scarlet net beneath ivory silk and my shoes clacked on the marble tiles of the grand terrace of my new home. The registrar was beaming and the two families gazed at me as i processed towards my new life.
Only six months before, my eyes had met Rob’s across a crowded bar. i had been on a weekend break to York, to meet an old friend from uni and we had ventured into the Dales looking for a bracing walk and a pub lunch. i had found my perfect man.
i remembered the first time he had slipped his hand between my legs, his rough calloused farmer’s skin catching on my tights and his sweet handsome face, boyish and apologetic. His bluff Yorkshire way and his classical education an interesting juxtaposition etched into his rugged flesh and his dancing blue eyes.
We danced the night away, stealing kisses and giggled conversations as our two families mingled on the dance floor. i was deliriously happy, the centre of attention and desperately in love with my lovely man. i couldn’t wait till everyone had gone and i could start to peel my layers of expensive finery deliciously off my perfumed and pampered body and give myself to him completely. i could feel the wetness seeping through the exquisite silk between my legs as i danced and laughed and my breast heaved with my wantonness.
At last it was midnight and the guests had left in a fleet of taxis and we were alone at last… or so i thought.
i swept up the palatial staircase like Scarlett Ohara while Rob went to lock up the many doors and windows of my country mansion. i decided that i would take my responsibilities as the wife of the Lord of the Manor very seriously and fully intended to judge the biscuit and cakes competition at the village fete the very next weekend. i mused on such nonsense as i sat on the edge of the four poster and kicked off my silken shoes.
The door opened softly behind me as i undid the catch on my dress at the nape of my neck.
‘Do my zip for me sweetheart’ i whispered huskily
A hand with rough skin took the zip and slowly pulled it down my back, i turned slowly slipping my arms around its owner. With my eyes closed i raised my face and puckered my painted lips… The fist smashed into my cheek, everything happened in such a blur that i didn’t have time to scream. A boot cracked into my ribs and then my bum and i looked up into the faces of my new father in law and his four other sons! They picked me up and threw my limp body a good six feet onto the bed, i instinctively tried to crawl away but they were on me in a second tearing at the dress, the petticoats and my underwear. More punches rained down on me and i slipped thankfully into unconsciousness.
i heard voices crudely discussing my body from the dark and i wanted to stay there, but gradually my vision returned and i woke into a nightmare.
i was lying on the bed, my wrists were bound tightly to the two posts at the head, my neck to the tester above. i could taste blood in my mouth and my face was swollen and misshapen, one eye virtually shut. My breasts were bare and cut and bruised and the only clothing left to me was my beautiful antique corset and the white silk stockings that hung from its suspenders, which were torn and laddered. My ankles were bound to a point somewhere above my head and i could feel the cool air playing over my hot, seeping pussy.
i spotted my Rob and screamed for him to help me, but to my horror he just laughed and sipped Champagne. i looked around the room, every male member of his family appeared to be there and amidst a cacophony of male banter his youngest brother climbed up onto the bed between my legs. He shoved his trousers down to his knees and lay on me. i felt the head of his erection for a second and then he thrust himself inside me to a cheer from the excited spectators.
‘Welcome to the family sis in law’ He said sweetly as he pulled out his now flaccid cock ‘How do you like it so far?’
i screamed again at my husband in the forlorn hope that he would do something to stop what was happening, but he slapped my face and shoved his cock in my mouth and down my throat.
As the sun came up, i guessed around thirty five uncles, brothers and cousins had welcomed me into the family. It was explained to me that i belonged to all the male members and that they would take me anytime, anywhere, anyhow. They told me that any resistance would be dealt with severely, that i was now breeding stock and if i failed to produce children, i would be given to the dogs and the horses and would spend the rest of my life living in my own shit.
i slept fitfully and prayed for a miracle.
The door opened softly, i held my breath as a shadowy form crept to my side. ‘Daddy, is that you?’ He started to undo the ropes round my wrist ‘Oh daddy i knew you’d save me’ tears of joy welled in my eyes and mixed with the pooled semen there, my daddy was there and everything would be alright.
Something icy grabbed my heart as i realised that he was holding my hands behind me and retying them, then my elbows. i had no strength or will to resist, he looped the ropes from behind round my neck and face, in my mouth pushing my tongue back, making me gag and choke. He hauled me to my feet and round to the end of the bed, bent me over and attached my bound wrists to the tester above me. Semen bubbled out of my asshole and my pussy and ran thickly down the inside of my trembling legs.
i tried to speak but my disappointment had dropped me into a black hole of despair that was engulfing my soul. He took off his belt. The first blow landed on my buttocks and it seemed to take forever for the pain to reach my brain, but when it did it was like a blinding steel pin driven through my head and out through my ass. Saliva and semen splattered out of my mouth with all hope and i stood numbly as my father thrashed me with all his strength.
‘This is for all those sleepless nights – whack! – this is for being such a little princess – whack! – this is for all the money you’ve cost – whack! – this is for being an ungrateful little cunt – whack!...
He stopped hitting me ‘And this is for parading around in front of me naked’ i could feel his cock at my open lips. ‘for sitting on my lap and wriggling and leaving your dirty underwear around for me to sniff and wearing skirts that were too short and… he thrust into me!

The Purest Love

The journey from my hotel room had lasted about an hour and I had spent the time concentrating on not being sick. It was essential that I wasn’t sick because my mouth was stuffed and taped and the idea of breathing vomit into my lungs terrified me enough to lose control of my bladder. I felt the warm liquid grow cold in my clothes and soak into the sheets and towels with which I shared the laundry basket that they had thrown me in.
I had crawled back to my room, exhausted from a day of translating political rhetoric, or to translate it into my own language, bullshit. Unable to face the walk back down to the restaurant, I ordered room service and kicking off my shoes, succumbed to the lure of the mini bar. I was on my second small bottle of Pinot Grigio when there was a knock at the door.
I padded over in my stockinged feet and opened it in hungry anticipation. Two men in uniforms wheeled in a laundry basket and my heart sank at the idea that this wasn’t luxurious sustenance. I had no time to wonder why they were there before one of them had circled his arms around my waist and my neck, pinning my arms beneath steel muscles. I could feel his erection against my buttocks as he whispered harshly in my ear.
‘You make a sound and you’ll spend the next ten minutes dying in agony’
The other raised a syringe in front of my face and smiled as he plunged it into my arm. I felt tears welling in my eyes as I fought the urge to scream, my legs shook uncontrollably.
‘Don’t worry you’re not going to die here, its just a muscle relaxant to make you more… compliant’ He spoke very slowly, enunciating each letter menacingly. My legs started to buckle, unable to support my weight and my head started to loll forward, my lips parting and saliva running down onto my blouse.
I was quickly bound with plastic cable ties and gagged with a rubber ball, which was held in place with copious amounts of silver tape. A laundry bag was slipped over my upper body and taped at my waist my breasts, my neck and around where my mouth and eyes would have been. I was like a floppy rag doll as they lifted me into the basket and covered me with linen. Strangely, all I could think about was how hungry I was.
On arrival at wherever we had arrived, I was lifted out of the basket and placed on my feet, they were still unable to support my weight and two sets of strong arms walked me, while my feet dragged behind, down an echoey corridor.
I heard a heavy metal door open before us and then clang shut behind, I peed myself again.
My escorts sat me on some sort of chair and then I heard them walk away, I sat in my darkness and the deafening quiet and waited…
As I sat in the dark I thought I heard breathing, I listened intently for maybe an hour and then suddenly the unmistakable noise of a chair scraping the floor. It sounded as though it came from around ten metres away and was followed by footsteps and the squeak of leather shoes. I made a sound into the many layers of my gag.
Hands closed around me and I was lifted gently down onto the floor. A metallic sound and then I felt the tapes around my body being cut away, the pressure was eased and I could almost breathe. After a couple of minutes of concentrated cutting the sack was completely removed and the air was cold against my skin and sweat soaked clothing.
I blinked into the gloom of a large industrial room, the floor was dusty and stuck to my wet body, a shadow moved around me slicing through the vicious cable ties that had cut into my flesh. He kneeled down and lifted my head onto his lap as I lay limp and helpless. His voice was quiet, like American chocolate to my ears, it resonated soothingly on my brain, comforting and kind. He gently stroked the damp lank hair from my face as he explained the sensuous relationship between victim and torturer. I looked into his face, lean and handsome, a neatly trimmed goatee, strong chin and sparkling intelligent eyes.
He lay my head back down on the floor and undressed me.
I lay like a naked floppy rag doll on the dirty floor, my arms and legs useless. I looked into his face for some sign of desire as he pushed my urine soaked clothing into a rubbish sack. He lifted me with ease onto the chair once more and I noticed that it had no seat and beneath it was an open drain.
As he fastened me to the chair with the horrid cable ties, he explained in his soft lovely voice, what he was going to do to me. I wanted to ask him questions, but my voice didn’t work and my mouth couldn’t form the words. My head was only kept upright because of the tie that attached my hair to a point at the top of the chair back. He came so close to me to whisper the horror in my ear, I wanted to turn my head, brush my lips across his cheek, smell his breath…
He brought up his chair and sat to one side of me, I looked at the clean dark suit and open necked white shirt, the strong neck that gave way to a broad muscular chest; my mouth lolled open and dribbled on my breasts. He looked at his handiwork, I was bound in a sitting position, my ankles, knees and thighs were bound to the front legs of the chair, my neck, chest and belly to the back and my wrists and elbows to the arms. My hands were face down on the widest part of the arms and my fingers were splayed and attached to the wood by U-shaped nails that were hammered in over the last joint of each.
He showed me pictures of arms and hands that he had dissected and explained how he would approach mine and that he usually took around eight hours to get from first incision to completely exposing the bones.
I cried like a baby and wanted him to touch me…
He showed me pictures of breasts that he had removed and the exposed ribs beneath. Part of me wanted him to tell me that he needed information that I may have gleaned during my work, that I could tell him and then he would let me go and I could have my dinner and go to sleep in my warm hotel bedroom; part of me wanted him to hurt me. He showed me a picture of a head without ears, nose, eyelids, lips… I wanted his long strong slender fingers in my cunt.
He left me alone in the dark and I cried.
Next morning he was back I could smell his aftershave and the shampoo on his hair. He sat down and asked me if I would like to go home now. I nodded as best I could and he said ‘Too bad’
He took off his jacket and used a hose to wash away the piss and shit from under the chair, then he hosed me down. I wanted the jet of water on my clitoris, but I didn’t get it.
I managed to make my mouth work a little, I asked him why?
He said ‘I am a torturer, you are a victim. It’s the natural order of things, we are made for each other’
I wanted him to touch me, I wanted him to run his long fingers up the inside of my thighs, open my wet hole and finger me hard and bruising. I wanted him to lean in and kiss my mouth, push his velvet tongue into me and feel his lips and rough cheek on my face… he put the scalpel against my little finger… he looked into my eyes and smiled… a wonderful joyous gleeful loving smile…
I smiled back…

Alysha

Right, this is a true story, so it might not be very good, i just thought you might like to hear it. Sorry if it’s a little tame.
Most of you who know me, know that i am very much a submissive. You know pretty much what lifts my skirt and the sort of, sometimes excessive, fantasies that i write about on this blog. Well i have recently begun a tentative relationship with a young black girl in London, in which i have taken the role of domme.
i guess that as a life time and life style subbie, i have an insight into what makes a good top and this entry is about my first steps in that direction…
The girl in question is 20 years old and lives with her white girlfriend in north London, she is well educated and comes from a nice family. We met online here on 360 and have corresponded for a number of months, on and off. About two months ago we met up for a coffee in London and talked about the various aspects we enjoyed about being submissive and she expressed an interest in having a white mistress (something her girlfriend isn’t particularly into). After a couple of glasses of wine i agreed to take her on as a pet. i sought permission from my rl Mistress and my online Mistress and both agreed.
Two Saturdays ago i met with Alysha again, we had indulged in a little online control and decided that we would take the big step and meet up for a serious session. Although i had booked a hotel room, we met in a bar and had a drink to get ‘in the scene’ she is a very pretty medium skinned girl, her mother comes from Nigeria and her father from Jamaica. i wore black trousers and top and spiky heeled black boots (Yeah cliché i know) She had a brown knitted dress, like a long cardigan and thick tights. i told her to sit with her legs apart, i could just make out her purple underwear through the thick material, we decided that she would refer to me as Ma’am and that she would be known as n----r pig. i was uncomfortable with the n word at first, but she insisted that it was okay between us.
By the time we made our way up to the hotel room i was feeling hornier than a bag of rabbits, quite apart from the whole Domme thing, i just wanted to fuck the brains out of this gorgeous creature! In the lift i made her pull her tights and knickers down to her knees and as we walked along the deserted corridor i lifted her dress from behind and got a look at her rich dark booty.
When we got inside the room i had her take off her coat and dress and kneel, while I tied her hands behind her back and pushed her face to the floor. i then inspected her lovely black velvety ass and cunt, exploring with my fingers her intimate folds and holes. Her labia were fat and firm and the smell from between her bum cheeks was heady perfume indeed and i could feel myself leaking into my own underwear. i hadn’t changed my knickers or washed there for three days and i hadn’t been too very careful wiping up after the loo in that time. She on the other hand was deliciously fragrant and i breathed in her musky scent as i examined her every nook and cranny. She was moaning softly as i carried out this examination, so i said ‘Shut your disgusting face fuck hole you n-----r slutpig’
We both suppressed a little giggle, but managed to stay in character.
i had her kneel back up again and untied her wrists, then i took her vest and bra off. Her lovely black udders swung free and when she leaned forward onto all fours, they swung heavily from side to side…
i attached the leather collar that we had chosen together online and picked up the slack on the her chain, then with a little encouragement from the tip of my boot in her slit, we walked through to the toilet.
i sat and had a wee, while she kneeled in front of me, eyes down, but flicking every so often to the disgusting stains in my panties. When i finished I didn’t wipe or pull up my clothing, i turned and bent forward, then pulling the lead between my legs i pulled her face up to my bum. As her tongue got to work on cleaning me up, i barely managed to stop myself coming like a train! i pushed up the toilet seat and had my little pig clean it from top to bottom, inside and out, while i fingered her cunt and ass.
i had intended to stuff her mouth with my dirty knickers while i whipped her ass and tits, but i just dragged her to the bed and fell on her in a frenzy.
If i was any good at being the Domme i guess i wouldn’t have just fucked her, it’s probably not the done thing to bang your pig, anyway i’m going to try and get an afternoon with both her and the girlfriend. In the meantime if anyone has any ideas about what i can do with it, let me know it’s very obedient!

Story Archive

my ultimate fantasy… for Susan
We kissed, our lips parted with a plop and she turned away her mind already in Paris and her latest project and probably some new slut. i watched her go, savouring the sight of her fleshy curves dancing beneath the smooth black jersey of her skirt.
On the plane my stomach churned.
A guy sat next to me. i pressed my knee on his. One last cock.
He followed me to the toilet, i leaned against him and wanted it to be special it wasn’t, when he’d finished i sat on the loo and made myself come. His card and its scribbled number went in the first bin when we landed as his semen leaked out of me into my panties.
i collected my little case and wheeled it into the arrivals lounge, sara held a sign with my name on it. We embraced and i liked her.
Miss Susan stood next to the car. She was everything i dreamt of and i melted into her arms, she kissed me deeply and i cried.
i sat in the back with her, sara drove. She called me baby and i was in heaven, when she hit me i was happier than i had ever been in my life. My nose bled onto the seat as she bound my wrists. The journey was just long enough for her to explore my body and beat me unconscious.
i came to on a dirty mattress in a cold room, i was naked and brutally bound. For three days my lovely Mummy told me what she was going to do to my body, sara beat me every couple of hours and i grew to love her as well. i was given water to keep me alive, but apart from that only Susan’s bodily waste passed my lips.
On the third day i was tied to a wheelchair and taken to a lovely spot, a weeping willow drooped prettily over a small stream in a little copse, birds sang. Under a tarpaulin was a dark hole, they said they would visit.
That night Susan made love to me, it was the night that defined my life. She was ineffably gentle and loving, kissed away my tears and asked me if i was ready. i said yes.
She started early, so proud of her surgical kit as she explained the function of each arcane instrument, i cried softly.
She offered me a wooden gag to bite on; i declined and told her that i loved her more than my life. She said she knew, i wanted her to say she loved me like that, but she just nailed my arms and legs to the big wooden table, every clunk of the nail gun ripping a scream from my mouth that eventually made my eyes bleed.
i had the first orgasm as she worked the blade of a scalpel between the bones and ligaments of my wrist, bucking against the nails holding me flat and squirting down my bloody legs. My severed hands and feet provided some light relief for a while.
The worst part i think was when she cut out as much of my clitoris as she could get to and then closed my cunt forever with an industrial stapler.
Eight hours later i looked down on the scene. Mummy, naked, covered head to foot in my blood and viscera, exhausted and slumped in a chair, nearby the table and all the different sections of me, more of me on display than should ever be seen by me… Are those my kidneys?
i heard Mummy explain that she was about to start on my face, but i had cum so many times, i had screamed until i had no sounds left and i didn’t relish the idea of being around as my face was carved up, it was bad enough when she cut off my hair… i mouthed ‘i love you’ with all the feeling i could muster and then i drifted away… happy at last.
Love you Mummy X
Maybe... one day