He was fucking her using only the pulleys and ropes.
She was being guided solely by the whim of the man in black. He could give her intense pleasure by allowing her to keep the prick buried balls-deep inside her. Or he could rob her of all pleasure and give mind-bending pain by pulling hard on the ropes, suspending her over the boy's cock.
He did both with equal glee.
The bound girl could only watch and feel the changes in her body. In spite of the pain – or because of it – she began breathing faster. Her heart threatened to explode in her chest. The feel of the blood racing through her arteries made her flush. And her entire body felt like one giant, raw nerve ending waiting to be touched.
Repeatedly, the man lowered her so that the prick shot all the way up into her pussy. Twisting as much as she could, the red-haired teenager succeeded in giving herself added thrills. She spun around the cock inside her twat. The rubbing, rotary motion was unlike anything she had ever dreamed of. The way Michael's cock moved inside her was such a turn-on that she came.
She surged up into the air. The girl was positive she was blasting off into a sexual orbit. But Stanton was merely pulling her up and away from the lovely prick.
"That seems the right place," he commented, more to himself than to either of the bound teenagers. He did something that the girl couldn't quite see, then left the handle of the crank.
Hope surged in Sheryle. Maybe he would simply allow her to dangle down and fuck herself on Michael's prick. But it wasn't that easy for her. She felt the familiar up and down jerking on her ankles and wrists. Stanton had merely tied the rope to some sort of a motor. She was being fucked up and down by a machine now.
"No!" she screamed, tossing her head wildly from side to side. "I won't stand for this. I won't, I won't!"
She instantly regretted her words. She felt the swift lash of Stanton's whip cross her shoulders. Again and again that leather strap landed on her tensed, taut muscles. She blacked out once from the pain.
When she came to again, she was still dangling from the ropes, Michael's cock firmly lodged in her juicy cunt. The pleasure and pain mixed into a heady brew for the girl. Her flesh burned from the whipping she had received, but the welts were warming her now, making her come totally alive. The pain in her crotch from being pulled apart so brutally was eased by the wondrous feel of the cock in her impossibly tight cunt. Her wrists were being chafed by the rope, but the twisting motion she was able to give herself around the jutting cock more than made up for the lack of circulation. She was in heaven and hell at the same time. She hunched up and down in an attempt to get enough of that precious prick before the unfeeling motor lifted her up into the air again. She almost succeeded.
"How are you doing?" asked Stanton, running the butt end of his whip along her corded muscles, tracing under her tits, rubbing the blunted portion across her belly.
"Go to hell!" she snapped.
"I don't have to go there," he said, smiling. "I can watch you, for, my dear, you and he are both in hell."
"I'm enjoying this!" she shot back, trying to get even with the man. If she couldn't scratch his eyes out, maybe her words could wound him. She was out of her league. He only laughed at her.
Then he bent forward, his tongue flickering like a candle flame, hot and demanding, along her side. He traced out one rib until he came to the base of her tits. He had to continually move his head to keep up with the up-and-down motion of her body, due to the motor and pulley system.
Her flesh crawled at the rough, wet touch of the man's tongue. Her tits turned to gooseflesh. She trembled all over. When he raked his tongue across the heaving dome of her belly, she came hard. She shuddered and moaned and cried out for more – and she got it in an unexpected fashion.
He didn't stop with her belly button. His tongue went even lower. He dragged it through the tangled mat of her red pussy fur before going to her cunt. She was being effectively fucked by the up and down motion, but the added sensation of his tongue slithering all over her cunt brought the girl off repeatedly.
When the man's mouth moved lower, his tongue dragging along the edges of her puffy cuntlips, she found herself screaming and thrashing about in mid-air. She couldn't help herself. The feelings inside her were too intense to deny. At the same time she was loving it, she hated the man doing this to her.
All the teenager's joints hurt like hell. The pleasure he gave her helped erase some of that, but the joy and agony existed side by side inside her. He was a master at making her feel more like a woman than any other man – but he also could make her feel like a pile of shit.
She hated him and loved him.
And she kept coming like a human machine gun firing.
She hardly even noticed when her cunt filled with the hot jism squirted out by Michael's prick. Her own body was still singing with the feel of Stanton's tongue dueling with her cunt.
CHAPTER TEN
"Like a dog, on your hands and knees, bitch!" snapped Mr. Stanton. He held the end of Sheryle's leash. It dropped in a short arc to go to the studded dog collar he had fastened on her neck.
"Please," she pleaded with the man, knowing it wouldn't do any good. "Do you have to do this to me?"
"Bitch, you will only address me as 'master' from now on. And YOU are a dog, an animal. Bark like a bitch in heat. Bark!"
Her head snapped forward as he savagely jerked on the leash. She almost choked to death as the collar tightened. But she obediently barked like a dog. The man seemed to approve because he stopped tugging on the leash.
Sheryle wondered if it was really possible for him to humiliate her further. Every time she thought it wasn't possible, he figured out a new and viciously different method of getting through to her. He would treat her like a real lady, give her the finest of clothes and bright, sparkling jewels, and then turn on her, fuck her and piss in her face. But pissing in her face and hair were old stuff to her now.
Her joints ached constantly from the brutal, agonizing positions he would force her to assume. She still hadn't recovered fully from being dangled on the ropes over Michael's prick. She had loved the feel of his mighty cock in her pussy, but the rest of the scene had been stark terror for her.
Poor Michael! She hadn't seen him in almost a week. Mr. Stanton's attentions had been devoted almost solely toward her. She shivered at the thought of Michael being imprisoned somewhere in the mansion, all alone, dangling from chains against a cold stone wall.
Still, deep down, Sheryle knew she would rather have it this way than having Michael participating in the vicious little games Stanton thought up. Sheryle found it hard to admit to herself that she didn't want to share the dark visaged man with anyone, even Michael.
There was an aura of power about Stanton that continually drew her. It was an animal magnetism that she couldn't fight. If he ordered her to do something, she would have to do it simply because of his voice. It was hypnotic. It compelled her to do horrible things that she would never dream of doing otherwise.
That he had his whip with him constantly was also a goad to make her obey his every wish. He never hesitated in whipping her when she needed it. Sometimes she was too slow in obeying. She could almost appreciate the need for discipline.
Sheryle was finding a man who could dominate her totally. She might not know what was going through his mind, but she always knew where she stood with him. There was no falseness in their relationship. She was his slave, to serve him and instantly please him if that was what he desired. So simple. She thought back to the world outside the mansion. Things never were as clear-cut there. Her parents and their hypocritical ways.