Condemned to Slavery (13 page)

“Wider you pathetic slut, or I’ll nail your rear to the floor with my heel,” she said, driving the spike deeper, forcing the skin into a large flushed crater, promising far harsher results if she did not conform.

Fighting onward, Lydia continued to cry out even when the beating abruptly ended, the strain within her legs driving her mad.

“Good, now stay like that.”

After a short pause to ensure Lydia was maintaining the correct position, the guard returned and started to nudge her toe into the splayed cleft. The near dry leather dragging her skin, the lack of lubrication making the forced attempt pull at her tender orifice and have her yelp and shudder, frantically trying to keep the required pose.

“This is your own fault, I told you to suck the toe, and if you had done it properly, this would be sliding in easily enough. But no, you disobey again, and so you suffer for your own idleness,” absently muttered the guard, seeking entry with her foot, making the targeted sphincter burn and ache as the wide intruder fought for access.

Gasping and panting, Lydia strove to endure, her pains being held at bay by her fear of irking her jailer even more.

“Do you like being fucked by my boot?” asked the woman, the question seeming an innocent enough one, but Lydia knew it was but a cloak to trick her into yet more torture.

“Yes, Mistress, yes I do,” she strained through clenched teeth, a particularly virulent shove gaining the boot another few millimeters of entry.

“You don’t sound like it! Maybe I should force the entire thing in if this isn’t stimulating you enough?” warned the sadistic guard, darting her semi-immersed foot forward to make Lydia scream as she was almost torn open by the battering ram attack.

Surely the woman could not attempt something so heinous. It was physically impossible and would mutilate her terribly, perhaps even prove fatal. But no rules or law governed these austere villains, they had complete autonomy and could kill or maim at their own discretion, their gross deeds bound only by their individual and apparently absent conscience and infinite capacity for atrocity.

Heedless of the base and embarrassing spectacle she might make of herself, Lydia took a deep breath of courage and began her act, straining to compensate for the pain of her violation while she tried to give a convincing performance of ecstatic delight. Writhing upon the impaling boot she groaned and grunted like a whore, desperate to forestall anymore horror, trying to conjure the illusion of finding this havoc the most intense bliss she had ever known.

“That’s better, but you still seem a little unfulfilled, perhaps I should give you the entire thing just to be sure,” muttered the guard, throwing Lydia into calamity, and causing her to merge herself into the part with even more desperate devotion, cavorting upon the boot in orgasmic merriment. The fear brushed her dark desire and stirred it once more, the forced act actually making her start to revel in the forced play. Made to demean herself by riding this boot, she felt a strange sense of enjoyment, and her performance became all the more convincing because of it.

“You want me to stop?” asked the guard, the ploy so transparent that Lydia knew instantly that it was a ruse to expose her fake enthusiasm for this violation.

“No, no. Don’t stop, please. Carry on, I beg of you. Give it to me. Fuck me, fuck me please,” she groaned, the words bringing sickened bile to her throat, but even as she professed her hatred of this action, the hidden facet behind her conscious thoughts made the expressed words ring with a hint of truth.

The guard laughed merrily, making Lydia burn with shame as she continued, the woman continuing to ride her boot into her, turning it to make the display of rhapsody even harder to maintain. Pushing Lydia’s skill at bogus reactions to the very limit, tears of suffering and derogation flowed from her tightly shut eyes.

With an angry twist the boot was torn free, deserting Lydia as a prostrate emotional and physical mess.

“That’s enough of that. My boot is clean at last, and seeing as you love this so much, I’ll have to come back sometime and carry on,” giggled the guard, examining her foot with a wicked grin. “Now come over here,” ordered the guard, making Lydia crawl on her knees to the center of the room before wandering over to the chest and returning with a length of rope and a set of leather manacles and fetters.

The thick bands of polished hide were buckled about her wrists and ankles, and then padlocked before the D rings were lifted up to stand exposed and proud, ready to accept their full restraints. Casting the length of rope through a ring in the ceiling, the woman formed a hangman’s noose with alarmingly practiced ease and slipped the hoop over Lydia’s neck, closing it solely about her throat and carefully avoiding snagging the snared hands.

“Kneel up straight,” she commanded, and took in the slack before untying her hands and removing the previous loop that had laid about her neck and wrists.

Snatching the freed limbs, she lifted them high over Lydia’s head, making her stretch them as high as she could and then pulling on them to gain those extra few centimeters Lydia could not comfortably achieve. Slipping the other end of the rope through the awaiting D rings, she hauled even tighter, the other end of the coil tightening about her throat, revealing that any pulling or even sagging of her arms would now start to strangle her. A swift knot sealed the ropes and she hung impotently as the woman fetched a pair of monstrous clamps.

The clover clamps sparkled like diamonds in the light, their round jaws a dense array of small rubber spines. Lydia closed her eyes in dreary angst when she saw them, the guard snapping them in front of her eyes before clipping them to her nipples. Lydia gritted her teeth and mewled as her teats were compressed, her breasts shuddering from the effects.

With an additional hiss and murmur of response she quivered as they had thin cord applied to their rears and then flung over the opposite shoulder so she could not slough them off. The pulls to the cord made the clamps bite all the harder, elevating the churning heat in the tips of her cleavage, the morsels of flesh pounding with an icy fire. Her ankles were lifted up until they touched the tops of her thighs and their rings readily accepted the cord, which was knotted sternly into place.

Lydia whimpered in alarm as she became aware of what her position was to do to her. She was balanced precariously on her kneecaps, and any sway would cause her to hang herself, for any pull to maintain balance would cause the noose to squeeze tighter. Any attempt to lower her legs, or even relax them from their enforced position would now drag at her nipples and elevate the already insufferable bite of the clamps.

“Well I had best get back to my duties. Let this teach you to not trifle with us, you little foot-screwing slut, and maybe I’ll be back in a few days to set your free,” announced the woman.

Swaying unsteadily, Lydia’s wavering balance caused her to sink forward and prompt a pull with her arms to straighten herself once more, a pull that made the noose shrink drastically and severely curtail her breath until she was once more stable. Quickly working the rope a little looser with careful twisting and shaking of her head she eased the restriction on her respiration. By the time she had regained her posture, the door was slamming shut, plunging her into blackness once more. She called out in desperation, trying to move, the shift of her legs making her squeak in shock and jolt them back upright as her nipples bellowed their pain. It was a violent reaction that afflicted her scant equilibrium once more, re-instigating the struggle to defeat the strangling rope and regain the neutral stance that was the least painful of them all.

Weeping in the blackness, she started to scream into the void, bellowing for aid until the theft of her voice was committed by a contracting noose.

The blackest frustration and monstrous fury possessed her, the total inability to affect her predicament in any way was driving her insane with furor, her reason slithering away as she hung trapped and helpless. The slightest movement almost killed her, every second of this inferno a surging desperate battle to stay alive. Yet she had not the courage to end it. Several times she gave up on her situation and tried to cripple her balance to a degree where she would perish before her survival instincts regained her posture. But all these sessions served to do were make her suffer even more, for the bondage permitted easy restoration. No matter how vigorously she tried, she could not think of a suicide for herself that was painless enough to go through with all the way, and this added yet more grief and repressed bitterness to her nightmare captivity.

The delirium returned like a relentless nemesis, this arch-villain of her psyche embracing her with its loving shroud and making her wretched misery all the more eerie and acute, offering her dreams of freedom or release and then snatching them away.

Lost in the depths of oblivion and pure woe, she hung upon her bonds for the centuries time dawdled into, extending like elastic, the pain and harrowing hauling time further and further out, making the misery rise until she was drowning in an ocean of its sewage.

If only she could be rescued, to be drawn from this prison and restored to freedom. But there were few people to care about her fate. She had no true friends, no relatives left to be concerned, even her employer would simply write her off as a dissatisfied soul who never bothered coming back. Her landlord was a greedy sleaze whom she suspected of having accessed her bedsit and pawed through her possessions. With her overdue rent rising beyond natural levels, he would obviously weigh the reporting of her missing against the recuperation of the debt through the sale of her luxuries, and the confiscation of her effects for personal use. She could spend the rest of her days locked within this loathsome and unscrupulous dominion and never be missed.

Within the sticky folds of her wild dream state, she felt hands touch her. The reality of the event slowly slithered to the forefront of her mind as the sensation grew more acute and continued for far longer than her usual mental conjurations.

Cool leather gloves were massaging her breasts, the fingers working around the clamps, slowly clenching and releasing the soft flesh while she whimpered and gasped, a flicker of pleasure in the gentle caress contrasting radically to the numb pounding ache that ate through her frame.

The hands began to wander in ever wider and meandering routes, following her bound contours, reveling in the feel of her helplessness, her raised arms letting him run his fingers along her pronounced ribs and then across the taut zone of her abdomen.

“Do you want to be set free?” asked a deep male voice, the heavy accent betraying the origin of her partner.

“Yes, yes, for God’s sake set me free, I’m loosing my mind,” she mumbled, her dry lips and parched throat corrupting her words.

“Tell me you want me,” he whispered softly in her ear, his hands reaching down to her sex, stroking across her vulva, combing her pubic hair through rigid digits.

Lydia shivered from the sudden fierce pleasure of his stroking touch, yet to actively solicit intercourse just to be set free? It was akin to prostitution, but such morality was annihilated in a split second when faced against the horror of her confinement.

“Make love to me,” she muttered, his hot breath issuing onto the back of her neck in swift pants.

Silence greeted her petition, making her wonder whether he had reconsidered. She repeated her request with greater earnest, trying to fill the hollow words with a libidinous purr.

“Please, make love to me. I need you.”

The fingers slipped into her belly, exploring her as his arms folded around her, probing her sex as she shuddered in his scissors grip, her wavering body causing more strain to afflict her throat. Swallowing with difficulty, she unleashed a soft groan of rapture, his hand swirling his fingers upon her clitoris. Closing her eyes, she let herself be supported against his body, her breasts pulsating with their crushed bite, her belly becoming alive with lust. The sound of moisture as his digits worked arose and suddenly the fingers withdrew.

A metallic rattle of a zip lowering issued over the heady pant of her breath, and she felt the tip of his shaft brush her pussy. Her raised feet were parted slightly, elevating the drag at the cords and causing the virulent effects of the clamps to increase in a sudden jumping bound. His hands took hold of her buttocks, the flesh rigid with trepidation and the strain of maintaining this demeaning verticality.

“Relax,” he demanded, but she was having too much difficulty in keeping upright to comply just yet.

“Relax or I’ll leave you here,” he added, and with a firm hand he opened the barring flesh, the deployed might exacting a brief note of tearing shock. The sound of her distress became a choking gasp, his length reaching forward and plunging up into her, hauling her orifice open as he dove deep before slowly withdrawing and then repeating his jabbing dive. Lydia choked with delight at the feel of his attention, wriggling in her bonds as she surrendered herself to the pleasure of bound intercourse.

Having stolen enough lubrication, he moved back and kissed her sphincter with his length before driving in again, parting the tender opening and rolling himself through her rectum. The shock of initial entry faded into relish once more, the warm glide of him into her rear a delightful experience after all her dismal confinement.

The lethargic withdrawal was accentuated by the rending thrust of his entry, the motion causing her sphincter to light up with friction wrought heat, the tender skin clinging to his shaft, elevating the strain of his ravishment.

The hands of the guard returned to massaging her buttocks, skipping up on occasion to paw at her assets, the movement of the flesh making the havoc of the clamps increase in short bites. But at least his grip helped keep her steady, for his pounding thrusts kept forcing her back and forth and cause the restraint at her neck to constrict her breath.

“Does this feel good?” he uttered on ragged breaths as his pleasure grew ever more potent.