But Caroline had triumphed. No matter what Dwight Bryon did to her, she could survive it and continue to feel superior to him. Let him try to get back at his slave. He wouldn't be able to do it!
She saw this as a fight between the two of them for domination of the other. She used sex as a weapon, softly, gently, quietly. And he was masculine in his approach. He was brutal and forthright. He made his move and then stood behind it without flinching. Torture? Sure, if it suited his purposes. But she wouldn't allow pain to intrude.
Yet… yet she wished he would win. A dominant man was so sexy! She got off in a big way on all that he was doing, though she could hardly admit it to him or even herself.
"The chair's ready," he announced.
Dwight didn't bother to yank out the candle, but then he didn't relight it, either. He said nothing about it. She wondered if he really cared at all that her tight pussy lips were still stinging and red from the flame's searing touch.
She doubted it. Bryon didn't seem to even notice as he pulled her off the desk after untying her. The lovely woman tried to fight him off and found her arms and legs refusing to obey her.
The lack of circulation betrayed her and she fell heavily to the floor, a sobbing heap of tortured flesh.
"Get up. Get up, slave. This time I'm going to really fuck you."
She writhed on the floor, trying to find a position where the candle wasn't ripping into her guts. A man's cock bent a little when it went into her cunt all the way. The candle was rigid and didn't bend at all. It was digging into her guts in a way designed to give her nothing but sheer, undiluted pain.
The man pulled the lovely woman to her feet and she almost felt again. Then she felt the sharp edge of the wooden chair shoving into her belly. The candle squirted out of her cunt. This gave her a surge of relief that was almost enough to make her pass out again.
But this time she held on grimly. She was fully awake from the beginning as he grabbed her again.
When she felt the knobby crown of his cock glide past her asshole, she let out a low, heartfelt moan. And it wasn't a moan of pleasure. This hurt now. It hurt worse than anything she'd have thought possible.
As his prick nudged into the tortured lips of her tight pussy, she began to twitch and writhe around, trying to escape. That wasn't possible. The ropes held her hands too securely. They weren't any looser around her ankles. The flesh on her wrists and ankles was chafed and cut and raw. She could barely stand the dancing needles of pain.
"Stop it, stop it! I can't take any more!"
"You'll have to, won't you, cunt? I'm not going to help you. You tried using sex to get a job from me. I won't stop. I'm going to take my pleasure with you and then to hell with you!"
"No, no!" the lovely woman protested. "I just wanted to fuck you! Ohhhhhh!"
The purpled glans shot inside her cunt now. She felt torn apart, betrayed. He was driving his cock into her with the slow, sure moves of a man totally certain of his territory. There was none of the desperate fucking she'd hoped he would demonstrate.
The faster he fucked her, the sooner this torture would be over. But he was determined to fuck her right, to get the maximum pleasure – for himself.
"God, even after you've had a candle jammed up your twat, you're tight! I… I can feel those tight pussy walls clamping down around my cock."
It was great for Bryon but not for Caroline. She was assaulted on all fronts by unforgiving pain. Nowhere to turn, she suffered. She let the pain wash through her young body, a relentless tide of agony not to be denied.
There should have been intense pleasure from feeling the man's prick slowly moving in her juicy cunt. She had gotten off in a big way before on the way he butt-fucked her. It was a thrill, a joy, a thing uncommon and therefore to be cherished.
She felt like dying.
The way his prick worked against the walls of her pussy was sheer murder. The pain surged all the way into her belly, exploded and raced up her spine. The cornholing had been kinky and fun in a perverted way. Now he was killing her by slow inches – and there wasn't a damned thing the young girl could do about it.
Caroline had brought this on herself. And every time she felt his cock work another inch up her tight pussy, she knew it. But the lovely woman was a prisoner and was totally at the man's mercy. She couldn't call Peter. She was in this all by herself. He could extract all the joy he wanted from her bound and tortured body. And she would have to endure. That was now her lot in life.
Endure. Survive. Try to enjoy it if at all possible.
But it wasn't possible. No matter how she ordered her tormented cunt to enjoy, it revolted. The pain was too great. The feel of his prick moving slowly back and forth in her fuck tunnel was agony for her after the candle had been inside for so long.
Then Bryon's hips exploded in a frenzy of activity. He fucked her with all the power locked in his body. His hands ripped and tore at the creamy globes of her ass. He tried to tear the doughy mounds from her body as his cock plunged into her seething tight pussy.
The tightness of her body was increased by the pain. He felt the fluttering, turgid cunt lips surround his prick. The feel of his prick on those reddened, tortured cunt lips was enough to cause the young woman pain. This tightened her cunt around his virile cock. She was hurting – bad. That lit inner fires of desire that the man had never known before. He fucked her with more speed, more confidence, more ability than ever before. And he loved every second of it.
She was in pain. That made his pleasure all the more intense. His fingers tortured her ass. This tightened her pussy around his prick even more. He fucked into a cunt he would have thought to be a virgin's if he hadn't known better. She was crushing him flat with her steamy, squeezing cunt walls.
The flesh under his fingers flowed like putty. He tried to rearrange it into a shape more pleasing to him. It refused. It flowed back into the original curves of her ass. But that was minor. Her tight pussy convulsed around him in the throes of orgasm.
Vaguely, he realized she was coming. She'd gotten off in a big way on his fucking. And being tied up. And the pain. And the humiliation. She'd gotten off on all those things. His basic philosophy of sex and life and fucking was right on.
He fucked her cunt even faster.
He had to feel his come spurting from his prick. The emotional and physical release was all that counted now.
His come. His pleasure. Now!
The white-hot fountain of his jism spattered into her clutching cunt hole. Gallon after gallon of his come gushed in. Then it was all over. His prick went limp. He watched as a tiny stream of his jizz leaked from her well-fucked cunt. It dribbled out and down over her tortured inner thighs.
He took a step back and surveyed the scene. She was bent double over the back of the chair. The wooden back cut mercilessly into her belly. She panted for breath. He didn't care if it was the chair or her orgasm that robbed her lungs of precious oxygen.
"Now do you want the job?" he asked. "You cocksucker, you Goddamn cocksucking motherfucking son of a bitch!" he ranted. But things changed inside her. She needed this job. She needed it badly. And she had actually lusted after Dwight Bryon while he was doing those awful things to her. She'd enjoyed it!
"The job?" he repeated.
"I want it," Caroline. Saunders said, sobbing softly.
The man began untying her.
CHAPTER FIVE
"By the way, Caroline," said Dwight Bryon, "I meant you have the job – if you go through another audition."
"What?" The blonde woman was stunned. "But you just said – you lied!"
"Not really," the grey-haired man said, an evil leer on his face. "I said you had the job. I just didn't get the chance to finish the sentence. You have the job – if you go through another audition."