"Fit to be tied" - читать интересную книгу автора (Vickers Robert)

CHAPTER SEVEN

Laurine relaxed on the old-style couch in the room. This was the first time she'd seen this particular arrangement in here. It was decorated in a style like a European villa circa 1940.

The dress she wore seemed to reinforce her idea that the next customer was on a fantasy trip involving this era. She was dressed up like a French noblewoman. The satin dress clung to her full figure and accentuated her every curve.

The way her tits pressed against the fabric told anyone looking that she wasn't wearing a bra. The nipples poked eagerly against the cloth and created little mountains of material washing away to all sides.

The deep plunging neckline of the dress revealed acres of her smooth flesh. Every move threatened to reveal just a little more of a bare tit. Hanging around her neck was an elegant emerald necklace. Laurine didn't know but suspected that the gems were real. The director of Love, Inc. did things first class.

Working for Love, Inc. certainly had its advantages. She was getting better money here than she ever could working as a secretary. Laughing to herself, she had to admit she was making better money than the heads of some companies, much less their secretaries.

She was in a quandary over what to tell Bill when she saw him next. The director still hadn't told her where Love, Inc. was located but she had lots of information about the organization sure to please Bill. But she was beginning to feel like a traitor. If she squealed to Bill and the cops busted the place, she'd be out of a job. A very high paying job.

Even worse to her way of thinking, all the exciting sex she was getting would be cut off.

Still, this was illegal. She couldn't allow an illegal operation to continue. Could she?

Her mental argument with herself was cut off by a timid knock on the door. Before she could reach the door and open it, a more forceful knock sounded, as if the man was gaining courage.

She opened it and gasped. Standing there was a man dressed like a Nazi colonel. He had the jet black uniform with silver chasing and high black leather knee boots. In one hand he carried a riding crop. And in the other was a pair of black leather gloves.

"Fraulein," he said, clicking his heels together in the best Prussian manner.

"I… uh, won't you come in?" She didn't know what to say. Of all the things Laurine had expected, seeing a Nazi Gestapo officer standing on the threshold was about the last.

"You are surprised to see me, eh?" he said in a silky smooth voice that hinted at hidden evil. "I wanted to personally interview you after you made a fool out of the captain."

She bit back the question, "What captain?" She had to play the man's game. That was what he was paying for, that was what she was being paid to do.

"He was an easy one to fool. You don't look like such a pushover, though," she told him.

"I am not." He prodded her with his riding crop. The way he ran it up and down the side of her dress was almost obscene in its familiarity. When he began pushing the tip into her left nipple, she took an involuntary step backward.

"You do not like me. That is fine. I do not like the French. Even more to the point, I do not like the French aristocracy, which you represent in all your decadent splendor. Look at that disgusting dress. I hate it!"

His boot heels clicked harshly on the wood floor as he took two swift steps toward her. His hand lashed out and he gripped the neckline in his hand. A quick jerk and he had ripped the fabric and left it dangling about her waist.

She was naked from the waist up now. Only the jewel necklace remained.

"What are you doing? My lovely dress is ruined!" The outburst on her part was entirely spontaneous. She was mad at him for ruining her clothing in such a brutal fashion.

A quick slash of the riding crop across her bare tits silenced her.

"You will speak only when I order you to do so. Now," he said, prodding her a little more with his riding crop, "do you still think you can make the fool of me that you did of my captain?"

"You? Hardly," she laughed. But it was a forced laugh. She was beginning to feel frightened of this man. His attitude told her he thought nothing of inflicting pain. The red welt across her tits pulsed with a dull ache. And she knew he would want to give her even more pain if the occasion arose.

"You haughty French bitches think you are too good for the likes of me. I was born a peasant. But I am no longer one. You are a sultry one. What do you think of making love to me?"

"No!" she blurted. The girl realized this was what the man wanted to hear. In spite of the pain he might give her, she had to give him what he was searching for. It was his fantasy trip, after all.

"No? I think I can persuade you." His fingers stroked over the remnants of the evening gown. She quivered in anticipation of him ripping the rest of the dress off her. She was taken by surprise when he used the gloves to slap her across the face.

She staggered back and fell to her knees. The pain throbbed fiercely in her bruised cheek. Each finger of the glove had left its own mark. She glared at him, hatred flaring in her eyes. She didn't have to act. The girl actually felt it.

"So the French bitch hates me, now. Good. I think I prefer it that way."

He discarded his gloves and began undoing his belt. The elaborate harness crossed his chest and was fastened front and back. He managed to get out of it in record time.

He advanced on her, the leather straps dangling from his fingers in a most menacing fashion.

"You fear me. I can tell. And it is smart of you to because I will give you excruciating pain. Such pain as you've never felt. And when you beg me to fuck you, then it will stop. But I must hear your shining voice begging me to stop."

She tried to get away from him but the tatters of her dress got in her way. Stumbling, she fell into a chair. He was on top of her in an instant.

Her heart raced as she looked up at the towering giant of a man. The black leather straps he swung back and forth in front of her eyes took on demonic proportions. What was he actually going to do to her?

Millions of horrible, degrading tortures flashed through her mind. Did he have a German shepherd dog outside, waiting for her? She shuddered at the thought of being forced to allow a dog to fuck her. Having that slimy dog's cock running over her sex lips and then thrusting up into her cunt while the dog panted in lust made her light-headed.

Or would he do something even worse? Would he actually torture her? He must know all the Nazi tricks. Having electric wires touched to her nipples and clitoris would be terrible. Her body would jerk and twitch as if in sheer lust for the man.

"Wh-what are you going to do?"

"You'll see, my sexy little French tart."

He slapped her with the palm of his hand. As the pain jabbed down into her neck from the twice-bruised cheek, the man quickly used the leather straps to bind her hands behind her back. Pulling her out of the chair, he threw her to the wood floor. She was on her knees.

He looked down and smiled. Such a sight! She was naked to the waist. Her firm, high tits bounced with barely suppressed fear. But the emotion was having the desired effect. Blood was hammering into her tits, expanding them in size and causing her nipples to turn a fiery red. The little mounds of erectile tissue were already hard as rocks.

She was becoming aroused. And all because of him!

The man licked his lips as he studied her. Each minute he stood silent, towering ominously over her, created even more tension between them. And he could stand there all night just drinking in her beauty. The light from the fireplace highlighted her features to perfection.

Her snowy white tits were firm and lush as newly picked apples. And the smooth plain of her belly with its deeply shadowed depression of navel beckoned to him. Most of all, seeing her with her hands bound behind her back, totally at his mercy, made his cock stiffen.

He walked around her, studying her from every angle. He picked up his discarded riding crop and stroked it along the girl's naked sides. Once, he jabbed it into the tip of her tit and watched her flinch. It might have been dipped in acid, so swift was her reaction.

"Would you care to suck on a man's prick?" he asked her in a calm conversational tone.

She spit at him. The tiny gobbet of spit hit him just below the knee and clung to his highly polished boot.

In the same calm tone, he ordered, "Lick it off. And while you're at it, lick the entire boot."

"Go to hell!"

She was rewarded with a quick blow from the riding crop. The red mark appeared instantly across her smooth back, marring its perfection.

"Don't make me do this again," he said, laying another blow across her back. "I don't want to hurt you!"

The girl glared at him, then awkwardly worked her way forward. When she was within proper distance, she bent forward at the waist and placed her cheek against the smooth black leather. Her tongue flicked out and snared the spit.

"That's it. Lick it all, now!"

She was encouraged by a light blow across her ass. The thin gown she still wore below the waist did nothing to rob the riding crop of its sting. There was only one thing she could do. She licked.

"Good, very good."

And then he took a step backwards. She almost fell on her face from the unexpected movement. With her hands tied behind her back, she was unable to reach out and catch herself.

"Are you ready to suck on my cock now?"

"No!"

He said nothing. Pulling her to her feet, his fingers gripped the inside of her waist line. A sudden jerk stripped the remainder of her gown from her body. She stood in front of him, bare ass naked except for the glittering emerald necklace still dangling between her tits.

He kissed her hard. His lips crushed into hers. When he took her lower lip between his teeth, she braced herself for sudden pain. It never came.

He only chewed gently on her lip. His hands sought and found her tits. The riding crop was forgotten for the moment. When he began kneading those twin mounds of titflesh, she had to moan in pleasure.

In spite of all the things he'd done to her, it wasn't too bad. And now he was giving her what she had come to Love, Inc. for – sex.

She found herself responding to this masterful man. He knew what he wanted. And he took it. The smell of her sweat and the aroma of the thick leather encasing the man made her weak in the knees. She felt herself beginning to moisten in the crotch.

She was getting turned on by all that had happened!

The joy she was getting from having him play with her tits was unmatched. She quickly forgot the pain he'd inflicted on her. All that mattered to her at that instant was the way he continually flicked his thumbs over her nipples to send sexual electricity volting into her jugs.

As suddenly as the kiss and fondling had begun, they ended. He shoved her to the floor again.

"Bitch! Cunt! You're all alike! You think your bodies can gain you whatever you want! I'm superior! I'm above such things and I'll show you!"

Before she could move, he was on top of her. His riding crop had returned. Up her cunt.

She gasped at the sudden intrusion of the crop up her pussy. She hadn't even seen it coming. One instant, her cunt was juicy and yearning and the next, the leather crop was all the way up her.

When he began turning it around and around inside her cunt, she tried kicking him to get away.

It wasn't painful but it was damned uncomfortable.

"Stop it, damn you! Stop it this instant!"

He laughed harshly. "You haven't begged me for my cock yet, slut!"

"The hell you say!"

She felt the first real pain when he jerked the riding crop from her gaping cunt. He didn't try to soften the action. He simply yanked. She felt her body tensing again. Whatever he was going to do, it wouldn't be pleasant.

He crammed the riding crop all the way up her ass. The leather was already lubricated with her cunt juices so it slipped up her ass a little easier than it might have.

It still hurt like a million fire ants gnawing away at her guts.

She lay on her side, writhing as he drilled the riding crop even deeper up her asshole.

"Now will you beg me for my cock? Now you know what else I have to offer, will you beg for it?"

"Yes, yes!" She was seeing red from the pain. All she could think of was the white hot fire leaping through her rectum. If an acid dipped iron rod had been jammed into her body, it couldn't have burned at her insides worse than the riding crop.

"Say it!"

"Your cock, I want your cock! Oh, shiit! Pull it out!"

"No," he said simply. "I will put it in!"

He lifted her into the air. She wasn't able to stand on her feet but that didn't stop him. His cock leaped out into the flickering light cast by the fireplace, then he fucked powerfully into her cunt. He speared her directly on the pussy lips and shot up into her twat.

She screamed. The pain of the entry wasn't that bad, it was the crop shafting her up the rear. Every movement she made was agony.

And then he pulled her strongly into his chest. She felt the medals and ornaments cutting into her naked flesh. The lovely necklace threatened to cut her soft tits. But most of all, the feel of his cock fucking her while that damned riding crop was stiff up her ass was torture.

She'd never thought that she'd ever see the day when she hated to have a man fucking her. This was the day. Every time his cock fucked hard into her twat, it worked the riding crop around in her ass.

She tried to pull the riding crop out but it eluded her. The butt end of it was just a bit beyond where she could reach with her hands tied as they were.

He laughed as he continued fucking her. She tried to relax but it wasn't possible. Too many things worked on her young body. The man dressed as the Nazi officer was enjoying this little scene to the utmost.

And she hated him for it.

This seemed to fire him. His passions aroused by her suffering, her hate, spurred him on. His cock flew like a piston up and down her cunt.

She felt the huge cock thundering up her twat. She tried to make it a nice, gentle entry. Each time, though, she tensed at the wrong moment. He bludgeoned his way into her juicy quim and pushed aside the soft walls of her pussy. He didn't come close to stretching her as wide apart as some other men had, but this didn't matter.

He had other things working for him and against her. She was moaning as her tits rubbed against the cloth of his jacket. But most of all the way both his cock and the riding crop would be in her at the same time took its toll.

"Stop, please! It's tearing my ass apart!"

He kept fucking. He was in control and knew it. She had to accept whatever he dished out to her. The riding crop seemed to work itself up her ass rather than out. She could feel it poking into her delicate inner membrane every time the man fucked her.

His cock rubbed against the riding crop through her thin inner tissues. He was actually getting off on the feel of the crop touching his prick as he buried it deep up her cunt.

"You like this, don't you?" he demanded.

"Yes, yes!" she cried. The tears of frustration ran down her cheeks. She knew better than to deny him his pleasure. The way he was fucking her told that he was about ready to come.

He had gotten his pleasure from her by being the dominant one. She hadn't been able to do a thing once he'd come into the room – not a thing he hadn't wanted, that is. She felt so weak and insignificant next to him.

His body smoothly rippled against hers. The way he continued fucking her told that he was an expert cocksman. She vaguely wondered what it would have been like if he hadn't tied her up and degraded her this way.

The pain in her ass caused all such thoughts to vanish. She had to struggle to hang onto her consciousness. The agony she felt was so incredible, she almost bit through her lower lip. But she hung on. She had to. It was the only way to gain some small victory over him.

The lewd noise of his cock fucking her filled her ears. Then came a tiny pop from behind her. It took an instant to realize it was the riding crop coming out of her asshole.

"Thank you, oh, thank you!" she cried. The relief was almost great enough to make her pass out.

But it was short-lived. He jammed the crop back up her ass. She felt it searching for her asshole, pushing her meaty asscheeks aside. Then it was hurtling up her back door again.

He alternated fucking her with his cock and buttfucking her with the riding crop. The push-pull action threatened to drive her out of her mind. The pain mixed in with the pleasure of his cock fucking her confused her.

She couldn't keep the two straight any longer. Her hands were numb from lack of circulation. The straps holding her wrists together cut off all the blood. And the medals poking into her chest hurt like fire. Worst of all, the emeralds in the necklace were gouging hard into her tits. She hadn't thought such a lovely necklace would become an item of stark hatred in her mind.

"I'm coming!" he gasped.

She felt his jism gush into her twat. She tensed as he pulled inwards with his hands. The riding crop shot even deeper into her guts. The pain and the pleasure washed through her body in a totally confusing mixture.

She couldn't keep them straight any longer. She fainted.

When Laurine blinked awake again, she was still naked but lying on the low couch near the fire. The man was fastening the straps of his harness and buckling his belt around his middle.

He glanced at her and said, "Keep the necklace as a token of my esteem for haughty French bitches."

The man left the room without another word.

Laurine simply slumped back onto the couch and tried to relax. The fire burning hot in her ass kept her from doing so.