"It is good," he said.
And he fucked her. He began with short, quick strokes. She felt his cock pressing hotly into the walls of her pussy. The rapid fucking warmed her cunt walls to the point where she was sure he was ripping her apart. The rawness of her still quivering cunt made her think she would bleed to death. In spite of enjoying her first fucking earlier, she was sore and aching now.
The quickness of his every stroke made her cunt hurt all the more. She wanted to pass out but he wouldn't let her. He fucked her like a bitch in heat. She felt his cock seeking out new territory deep in her guts. The swift thrusting in and out of her clinging twat began to take on added dimensions for the bound girl. She discovered that the pain was fading away and was being replaced by something else. Not quite joy, but not pain either.
"Why are you doing this to me?" she asked, her voice trembling. "You're hurting me. Why, why? What did I ever do to you?"
He refused to answer. His hairy legs pressed enticingly against her stocking-clad legs. She felt her ass pressing into his laced leather shorts. The smoothness of his body was due to the oil leaking off. As he sweated more and more, getting into the fucking, the oil ran off.
She tried to center her attention on only the things giving her pleasure. It was hard. The corset was riding up and cutting into her tits. She was sure she would have both boobs slashed off before she was finished. But the feel of the garter belt around her waist and the silken stockings on her legs thrilled her strangely. The feeling was kinky, perverted and totally obscene. She loved it.
Raising one of her legs, she managed to wrap it around the man's back. This brought his cock surging up into her cunt in a new and delightfully different way. The pain she had felt was being stroked away by his fucking cock. Every nerve ending in her fuck tunnel was responding joyously now. She was forgetting the pain he had originally given her.
"Oh, it's so niiice," she cooed. She felt the sweat on her body, on her face. The teenager hadn't realized before now that she was responding so strongly to the man's prick. She was. And she wanted it all. She was hungry for prick and had to have it.
Tightening her leg around his waist pulled him deeper and deeper into her pussy. She began rocking back and forth, adding power to his every stroke. Soon she lived only for the feel of his huge cock reaming out her twat. The prick filled her with joy. The sensations beginning to mount in her belly were indescribably good. She had to have more.
Thrusting her chest out and down so that her tits filled the palms of the man's hands helped her achieve her goal. The sexual tensions inside her tender young body exploded. She snapped. Crying out her lust, she climaxed. Her entire body went rigid. She felt her cunt convulsing around the man's hidden prick.
This was enough to make him gasp. She heard the reaction before the blood started to rush too loudly through her head. As she relaxed a little and came down from her sex high, she discovered that the mysterious Mr. Stanton was fucking her furiously. Every stroke was long and powerful and deep.
He rammed hard into her cunt, making the soft flesh smash against his leather shorts. She could feel his lacing cutting cruelly into her flesh. But that hardly mattered to her. The steely bar of his prick inside her damp, clinging cunt was all that counted now.
As he slid out, he used a corkscrew motion that drove her insane with lust. He dragged his cock over each and every square inch of her inner pussy. As his prick slipped free, he bucked up and down, then quickly fucked back into her juicy twat.
"I'm commmiiiing!" she screamed aloud. His hands squeezed down without mercy on her tits until she thought her nipples would pop. And his prick filled her to overflowing.
Again and again he brought her off. Then came the payoff for the man. He began fucking her with jerky, rough strokes. Inside her tightly clinging, almost-virgin cunt, she felt his prick begin to expand. It almost doubled in size before it exploded like a hidden stick of dynamite. The hot surge of his jizz filling her pussy brought her off.
Everything he did to her brought her off. She came and came and came. And when his prick dribbled from her pussy, she sank forward, her head resting on her chained hands. She was panting hard and wanted more…
Sheryle couldn't believe that her body wasn't satisfied. But it wasn't. Her pussy had tasted cock, now it was insatiable. It had to have more. She looked back over her bare shoulder at the man who had so expertly fucked her. He now stood, towering over her.
"Fuck me again," she said weakly. "I need it. My pussy needs it!"
"Slut!" was all he said as he walked off. She would have laughed at the sight of his limp, dangling prick except she remembered how nice it had felt when it was erect. She wanted even more of it.
And Sheryle didn't doubt for an instant that if she had laughed at Mr. Stanton that he would have returned with his whip. She didn't mind dressing up in incredibly sexy clothes, but the whip was the one thing she couldn't stand. The pain lancing into her body was terrible.
Especially when the very same man could give her heavenly delights using his cock.
CHAPTER SEVEN
"God, Sheryle, why are you dressed like that?" exclaimed Michael. The youth was still naked but he had been cut down. Now he was simply chained to a ring in the floor, the other end of the chain fastened to a collar on his neck.
"You like it?" she asked, spinning around to show off her sexy, kinky outfit. "Mr. Stanton thinks I look good in it."
She saw the way Michael's eyes had widened when she came waltzing into the room. She still wore the corset and stockings. The garter belt framed her pussy mound neatly. She had learned to walk in the high-heeled shoes given to her by their mysterious captor. Sheryle felt sinfully sexy. And used.
Every time Stanton came into the room, he fucked her. He would do it whether she wanted to screw or not. The girl's wishes meant nothing to him. And she was coming to enjoy it even as she hated it. The idea of being nothing but an object appalled her, but she loved the fucking. The feel of a good cock driving hard and fast and expertly into her twat was unmatched in her experience.
How she wished it had been Michael who had first fucked her. She still didn't know who it was in that darkened room but she guessed it was one of Mr. Stanton's games. He played games all the time. Sometimes he would dress her up like a wild animal and pretend he was a big game hunter.
Eventually, after chasing her around, he would catch her and fuck her. Another time he had beaten her with the whip until she was almost senseless. This had been the time when he had gotten off the best, she thought. His cum shot into her cunt like it had been fired from a cannon.
She should have loathed the man, but she couldn't. Amid all the pain and horror he brought her, she found herself admiring him. He was such a dominant figure. He knew what he wanted and he took it. She hated that and loved it at the same time.
Sheryle couldn't figure out exactly what she felt toward the man. He was everything to her, a father and a lover – and more. He disciplined her when he thought she needed it, and she was coming to agree with his decisions. That frightened her because she knew she was being used.
"Dressed up that way," said Michael, "you look like a cheap hooker."
"Nothing cheap about me," she snapped, immediately regretting her words. "I'm sorry, Michael. I didn't mean that."
"God, this whole thing is ruining both of us. We've got to escape. We just have to."
"Yes, yes, anything. Michael," she said, wondering if she really meant that. She didn't want to stay, but leaving presented problems of its own. She couldn't go back to her parents. They would laugh at her and say she had gotten what she deserved. That was if they even believed her. More likely, they would accuse her of lying. This entire adventure was so bizarre she hardly believed it.