Joan
by FerranArtist

Chapter 1

The sun was shining and birds were singing as Gerald parked his SUV in front of Joan's house. The peaceful suburban neighborhood did not look, to the unlearned eye, to be a place where sexual deviants would play, but Gerald had learned long ago that such settings were actually quite typical.

He was in a good mood, enjoying the afternoon sun, and feeling quite satisfied with himself at the moment. He'd just made a sale, and the merchandise didn't even know it yet.

Oh, these women always said the same things over the web, that they want to be used, abused, et cetera, but when it really came down to it, they had no idea what they wanted.

Gerald knew, though. They wanted to kneel, beg, be pampered like a pet and maybe suck some dick. With the possible exception of the last, most men, Gerald's clients included, weren't particularly interested in such things. In fact, from Gerald's point of view, the entire concept of meeting someone online that would be so tame was rather silly. If he or his clients wanted a woman to put on a pedestal, they could easily find one at the local bar or singles party.

No, what Gerald's clients wanted was someone to use, abuse, and torture, and they certainly paid him good money to acquire these women. Most of Gerald's job wasn't so much to find the women, as they were a dime a dozen, but to carefully engineer the situation to look as if they consented to everything that happened to them. Recorded IM conversations, exchanged pictures, public posts on forums, and a camera in his SUV pointing at her front door were all things that could be used in court if need be, though they hadn't been needed so far. All that he required was a lonely woman who thought she was a submissive and was brave, or stupid enough, to tell a complete stranger her home address.

Joan had been the perfect example. He'd found her in a BDSM chat room, acting very much the submissive, complete with capital S's for sir and lower case J's for her own name. Typical of her type, she was very quick to enter a private conversation with Gerald whom, in the beginning, seemed very gentlemanly, almost to the point of seeming too nice to be a Dom.

Being a master at his art, however, Gerald waited until just the right moment to begin being aggressive, and soon had Joan agreeing to do just about anything. Of course, while she was licking his feet in the chat room, she was probably masturbating in front of her computer.

Before everything was said and done, Joan, like all the others before her, had enthusiastically agreed to do anything, ANYTHING. Not that she had any real idea what this would consist of, but that was part of the fun for her, part of the submission. The reality was, of course, far from her mind.

He knocked on the door and waited, silently measuring how long it took her to answer. Though it hardly mattered, such small things told him whether this was a real submissive he was dealing with, or just some woman that thought she wanted some kink. If the door opened quickly, it was a real submissive, responding to her master's command. Every once in a while he managed to find an actual, true submissive, one who took everything they did to her in stride and loved it. Those women were special, and he generally tried to match them up as a life partner for one of his clients. If there was a "dramatic pause," however, this would be far more fun, and less work to boot.

The submissive women usually fared better than those that weren't. Something about a woman resisting really fired Gerald's clients up, and the more submissive ones generally ended up being “part of the gang” before everything was said and done. Three actual submissives had, in fact, married men that they had met through Gerald.

After an unusually long pause, the door opened, and there stood Joan, dressed in a long nightgown that flattered her slender body, yet wearing make-up as if she were planning to go out on the town.

"Gerald?" she said, with a slight smile.

"Mmhmm," he replied, looking her up and down and putting his hands in his pockets.

Late thirties, small breasts, shoulder length blond hair; just as her picture depicted her. Having recent pictures ready at hand on her computer was another sign of vanity. Oh, this one would be fun.

"Come on in, hun," she said, backing up and giving him room.

Go in he did, glancing around the home which he would inhabit for the next few days, possibly longer if there was still money to be made and Joan was still in fuckable shape. There were some things even his clients wouldn't stick their dick in, and there was always the chance someone would buy her outright.

Hearing the door shut behind him, Gerald turned to watch Joan lock all three of the locks on her door. A single woman could never be too careful, after all. Gerald shook his head, chuckling to himself.

Joan turned around, and the smile on her face turned to a look of shock and horror as she saw Gerald's hand hurtling toward her left breast, syringe extended. She made a feeble attempt to back up and block him, as well as a tiny noise that may have been the beginning of a scream, but the speed at which he attacked took her completely off guard.

The needle plunged into her left breast and its contents were injected. Joan felt the thick liquid burn under her skin, and before she could do anything else, her motor functions were completely paralyzed.

Though conscious, Joan was utterly powerless as this man whom she thought may be her next lover watched as she crumbled to the ground.

Noting the awkward position in which she landed, Gerald was satisfied that the drug had done its work. Not that it ever failed.

He then made himself a sandwich in Joan's kitchen.

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Sitting on Joan's couch, his feet propped on her coffee table, Gerald enjoyed a rerun of his favorite comedy on her television while eating a sandwich. He always made it a habit to eat before he began working, and there wasn't much of a point in paying for food when you were going to invade someone's home and live in it anyway. Besides, it was simply more interesting to eat whatever it was the victim had in their fridge. Get a sort of taste for their personality. Or something.

Once the sandwich was gone, Gerald went back out to his SUV, stepping over the still paralyzed and terrified Joan, to retrieve his laptop. He'd have to remember to edit this part out of the film which was being recorded from the camera in his SUV as Joan had inconveniently crumbled within its sight.

His new laptop was lighter than his old one, so he was also able to grab his small tool bag.

Although he'd been able to slip out the door with her partially blocking it, he was unable to fit quite as easily while carrying two bags, forcing him to use some force, shoving Joan out of the way. After much grunting, groaning, cursing, and badly spraining Joan's wrist, which happened to be trapped at the most interesting angle beneath her body, Gerald was able to squeeze into the house. He'd definitely have to edit this part out.

After setting his laptop on Joan's coffee table, Gerald set about securing her home. This wasn't something he took incredibly seriously, as Joan would spend most of her time bound, drugged, or being tortured, but it was worth the short amount of time he invested just for piece of mind.

Opening his tool bag, he retrieved a screwdriver, a deadbolt lock, and a dremmel tool. He changed one of the deadbolts on her door to one that had a key for both sides, then removed the key to his pocket. After locking each window, he used the dremmel tool to remove the piece of the lock that one would typically grip, being careful to leave a jagged edge. Blood on the windows would be a good indicator that he wasn't drugging her enough. Well, that was the theory; it had never happened.

Annoyingly, Joan also had a back door, so Gerald simply hollowed out the inside of the tumbler on its deadbolt with his dremmel, effectively fusing it shut like her windows.

Sure, if Joan had some vice grips, she might be able to find enough lever on a window to pry it open; or if she was some sort of awesome locksmith, she might be able to pick the lock on her front door, but for most women, she was sealed in. Before his stay was done, Gerald typically added a deadbolt to the master bedroom as that's where his victims were generally kept, but there would be plenty of time for that later.

Whistling, his hardest work done, Gerald returned his tools to his tool bag in the living room. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Joan's hand twitch. For a skinny chick, her body was filtering the toxin pretty quickly. Still, Gerald figured he had at least an hour or so before she was able to do much more than twitch and maybe moan a bit.

Light women did definitely provide other advantages. He was able to easily pitch Joan over his shoulder and carry her to her bedroom, throwing her onto her bed, snickering as a bit of spittle flew from her lax mouth. He simply didn't feel like trying to kick her out of the way for the even bigger bags that he was about to unload. Besides, his customers tended to prefer their women relatively undamaged to start with, which was one of the many reasons he opted to incapacitate them with drugs as opposed to, say, a baseball bat.

After unloading the rest of his luggage in her bedroom, to include a large rolling tool chest filled with toys for his customers to use, as well as a large dog cage with locks at every corner, he poked her in the breast where he had injected her, checking for a reaction. Still just a light twitching of the fingers. Good.

Humming contentedly to himself, Gerald took a marker and a stud finder and began marking the walls with X's. This was a request one of his customers had made a while back, and it had proved enormously popular. In the heat of the moment, when one wanted to attach something to a stable point on the wall, finding a stud or drilling through drywall was just annoying.

Once done, he wandered back over to his computer and checked for responses to the email he had sent out before heading here. Since only a few hours ago, twelve men had indicated interest in “meeting” Joan. Of the first five, four were previous customers, and one was a recent referral, so Gerald recognized all of the names. As he only allowed five at once, since he liked to watch and there were only three holes, after all, Gerald replied to all but the first five with his generic but polite email telling them to watch for his next query, but this one was all full.

To the four known customers, he simply replied with the house address. They knew what his SUV looked like and could find their own directions. They knew the routine.

For the new one, though, Gerald searched through his saved emails. Something seemed significant about this guy, but he couldn't remember what it was.

Then he found it. The new guy, a career plastic surgeon, enjoyed using needles and other sharp objects in ways that his customers simply did not allow. Although Gerald had passed this particular guy up a few times in the past, he decided that he'd invite him over for Joan for one reason, and one reason only.

He pulled up his profile sheet for the woman laying paralyzed in her own bed.

Joan
Age: 38
Breast size: 34A
Weight: 110 lbs
Hair: Blond, shoulder length
Marital Status: Single/Divorced
Prefers: Anal
Soft limits: Oral
Hard Limits: Needles

Oh yes, Gerald loved hard limits, and his victims simply handed them to him on a silver platter.Part 1

Trouble

It was raining that day, and my car had broken down, so I had to walk... I had
been dressed up to go out that night, my little black dress, it is see through,
so I wear a slip under it, black thong panties, a black shelf bra that pushed my
tits up & together rather nicely, and my black fishnet stockings with a garter
belt to hold them up. Yeah, I kinda looked like a slut, but I thought I was
going out to a club, not walking down the street in the rain. Anyway, on way
home, there was a small bar. I decided to duck in there to get out of the rain
for a bit, and have a couple of beers.

I walked into the bar, and noticed immediately that it was nearly empty. There
was an older couple sitting at a table in the corner, there was an old man
sitting at the bar, and a couple of guys playing pool. I walked up to the
bartender, and got my beer... I took it over to a table near the pool table and
sat down. The first beer went down pretty quick, and I went to get another. As I
walked over to the bar, I felt a hand brush against my ass... I quickly turned
around, and one of the guys that was playing pool looked down at me and said he
was sorry, and that it was an accident. I replied, "No problem," and flashed him
a smile. This guy was quite attractive ... he was probably about 6' tall, which
is damn tall next to me (I'm only 5'5"), and was pretty muscular ... he was
wearing a wifebeater (a white ribbed tank top) and black jeans, and he had a
shaved head. He smiled back at me, and I continued over to the bar, and got my
second beer.

When I turned around, I noticed that the guy that had touched my ass was now
sitting at my table! Hmm, I thought, this could be interesting. I walked back
over to my table, and sat down. He introduced himself, and said his name was
Eddie. I introduced myself to him, and I asked him where his friend had gone. He
said that his friend Robert had run out to their car to grab his smokes.

At this point Eddie looked me up and down, and said, "Damn, you're soaked!" I
told him about the trouble I was having with my car, and that I was on my way
home, and had to walk in the rain. At this point, Robert walked up to the table,
and threw down his smokes. He looked at Eddie, and said "Fuck man, it fucking
pouring out there!" I rolled my eyes at the thought of having to walk in the
pouring rain, and finished up my beer. "Would you like another?" Asked Eddie. I
said, "Sure." He got up and walked over to the bar. Robert sat down, and
introduced himself, and I told him my name, and before he asked, I explained why
I was so wet.

Eddie returned with three beers, he set one in front of me, and gave one to
Robert, and he took a big drink from the third. I took a drink of mine, and lit
up a smoke. The two guys also lit up with me. We sat there and talked for a
while, and I have to admit I was being rather flirtatious. I always get flirty
when I drink. About half way through my third beer, and my head was feeling
heavy. I thought this was kind of odd, as 3 beers usually didn't fuck me up. I
took another drink anyway. I noticed Eddy's leg kept brushing up against mine,
but I didn't move it, I looked down, and noticed that my dress had slid up on my
leg, and the top of my stockings were exposed. Feeling rather bold at the
moment, I chose to let it stay like it was.

I finished off my beer, and I felt like I had run full speed into a brick wall.
I explained to the guys that I usually didn't get this drunk from a few beers,
and they both replied that it was cool. I noticed they gave each other a look
and smiled, but I thought nothing of it. I felt like I needed to pee, so I
excused myself, grabbed my purse and stood up to go to the restroom. That's when
it really hit me. I quickly sat back down, and Eddie asked me what was wrong. I
said, "I'm kinda embarrassed, but I don't know if I can make it over to the
restroom." He stood up, and grabbed my arm pulling me to my feet. Whoa, I could
barely walk to the restroom even with him guiding my way. I went in, and Eddie
said he would wait by the door.

I stumbled into the restroom, and went pee. It wasn't easy... For some reason I
was really FUCKED UP! I made my way to the door, and pushed it open. Eddie
grabbed me, as I think I was about to fall. We made it back to the table, and I
sat down roughly. It was getting late, and I thought I should go, but I didn't
think I could walk all the way home in this condition. At that exact moment,
Robert said to Eddie, "Hey, lets get out of this place, and go pick up some beer
... we could head back to my place, and get wasted" Eddie said, "Cool, lets go"
Eddie looked at me, and asked if I needed a ride somewhere. I told him that it
would be real cool if I could get a ride home. He helped me up, and we walked
out of the bar and towards their car, it was raining harder then ever.

I slid into the back seat of their car, and they both jumped in the front.
Robert was driving, and I heard him tell Eddie that they needed to pick up the
beer first before all the liquor stores closed. Robert started the car and
pulled out into the street. I was nearly passed out. I was way too fucked up for
only having 3 beers. Though my eyes were barely open, I saw that Robert kept
looking in his rearview mirror at me, and Eddie kept turning his head to look at
me. I put my hands on my legs, and felt that my skirt was hiked up pretty high
now, and they could see my stockings and about 4 inches of the straps from my
garter belt. I tried to cover up with no avail, and I quietly passed out...

When I woke up, the car was parked, and Eddie was pulling me out of the car. I
asked where I was, and Robert said, "We're at my house" I gave Eddie a
questioning look, and he said that when they had asked me where I lived, I was
passed out, so they figured they would take me with them, and drop me off later.
Just then, Eddie picked me up and threw me over his shoulder. I think I passed
out again, because the next thing I remember was Eddie laying me down on a bed,
and telling me that I could sleep there. Through my barely opened eyes, I saw
him walk out of the room. Lying there, I could feel that my clothes were damp. I
figured that since I had a slip on, I could take off my dress and let it dry ...
damn was that a struggle, but I managed to take it off, and laid it over the
corner of the bed.

At that moment, Robert walked in the room. He had a beer in his hand, and asked
if I would like one. I told him, that I better not, because I was too fucked up
as it was. He sat down beside me on the side of the bed, and I passed out again.
When I awoke, Both Eddie and Robert were sitting at the end of the bed watching
a porno... I asked if I could have some water because I needed something to
drink. Eddie left the room, and walked back in with a glass... I took a BIG
drink, and felt a burning in my stomach. It was Vodka!!! I looked at Eddie, and
he said, "Come on, water is no fun..." I set the cup down on the table, and
struggled to sit up. Eddie asked me if I ever watched porno movies. I told him I
did, but not this kind! On the TV, was a girl chained up, bound and gagged, and
being whipped by a menacing looking man. Eddie just smiled at me, and told me I
should watch, maybe I would like it.

Everything was still kind of blurry, but I leaned back against the headboard and
watched. The girl was screaming every time the whip touched her... I was getting
aroused. I could feel my pussy getting wet. Every couple of minutes both of the
guys turned around to look at me, to see my reaction. Robert made a comment that
his back was hurting, and then slid up next to me. Eddie, followed, and sat on
my other side. I felt the big swig of vodka I had taken. My head was swooning. I
leaned my head back on the headboard and closed my eyes. Damn I was fucked up. I
think I must have passed out again. When I opened my eyes, I saw on the TV there
was a girl tied up ... her tits were wrapped in ropes, and her hands were tied
above her. There were men taking turns spanking her. I felt myself get wet
again. Just then I noticed that Eddy's hand was on my leg. I just sat there and
stared at it for a minute... I felt his warm hand on my leg. It was on my bare
thigh, under my garter strap. He moved it slightly up my leg... I jumped. Robert
asked me if I liked what I saw. Before I knew what I was saying I uttered,
"yes." He smiled, and put his hand on my other leg, identical to where Eddy's
was ... which had now moved up maybe an inch from my pussy. I wondered if they
could feel how wet I was. I wanted them to move their hands... I was starting to
get worried.

Eddie slid his hand up my thigh and tugged at my panties. I told him that I
thought he should stop, and maybe they should give me a ride home now... Robert
said, no, not yet ... he was not okay to drive. Eddie's hands were still rubbing
my pussy through my panties, and I knew he could feel how wet I was. Robert slid
his hand under my panties and touched my pussy. As his fingers touched me, I
felt myself quiver. Robert looked up at Eddie, and said, "This bitch is a
fucking slut!" and with that, he ripped down my panties, and the straps from my
garter belt snapped up... "Look at that fucking shaved pussy...!" He looked at
me, and said, " You fucking little whore, how dare you fucking tease me all
night" Eddies hand was now rubbing my clit, and I was so wet. My nipples were so
hard, and very clearly showing through my slip. I was scared though, and I tried
to push Eddy's hand away. At that moment, Robert slapped me straight across the
face, and said, "Look you little bitch, you're going to let us do what the fuck
we want." Eddie's hand slid back to my pussy, and Robert pulled a knife out of
his pocket.

Fear swept over my body. "What the fuck are you going to do with that?" I asked
Robert. "Whatever the fuck I want!" he yelled. He knelt over me; Eddie slid a
finger into my pussy... I let out a moan. Eddie said, "You're such a fucking
whore" I said, "No, please don't do this ... please ... just leave me alone..."
This time it was Eddie who backhanded me. "Shut the funk up cunt!" Robert pulled
my legs and I slid down so I was lying on the bed. My lip was bleeding. Robert
sat on my stomach, and used his knife to cut the straps of my slip. I was trying
to push him off of me. It was no use. He was too heavy, and I was not strong
enough. Robert said to Eddie, " Get the fucking camera, were gonna tape this
slut ... we'll make her famous." Eddie laughed and walked to the other side of
the room. Robert continued cutting my clothes ... first my slip, then my bra. He
smiled at me. I quietly told him, "please, no..." He said, "What? Are you trying
to tell ME what the fuck to do...? You're the fucking bitch, and you are going
to do what I fucking say!" I then heard Eddie attaching their camera to a tripod
on the other side of the room. He walked back over to the bed and said, "Okay,
lets make this bitch a fucking star."

Robert was now cutting off my panties, which were around my knees, and Eddie had
grabbed my wrists with one hand, and was squeezing one of my tits with the
other. I was completely naked except for my stockings and garter belt. I looked
up at Eddie, and asked, "Why, me?"

"Cause you want it," he said. "I felt how fucking wet you were ... watching
fucking porn with us ... you want it ... you know you do." I shook my head no,
and he plunged his hand into my pussy... Robert had gotten up and was messing
with something under the bed. He set something beside me, and grabbed my throat.
He moved close to my face, about an inch away, and looked straight into my eyes.
"Tell me how much you want to fuck me."

"NO!" I said ... his grasp tightened around my throat. "Tell me!" Quietly I
whimpered... " I want you"

"WHAT?" he said, a bit louder I said, "I want you to fuck me."

"That's right you fucking cunt." He took my wrists from Eddie, and began to tie
them with the rope he had set bedside me. "What are you doing?" I asked. He
slapped me again, and at the same time Eddie slid another finger into my pussy.
"Did I tell you to speak?" asked Robert. He continued to tie my wrists. When
they were tied together, he took the end of the rope and dragged me off the bed.
My legs were still weak from the alcohol. Robert wrapped the end of the rope
around a bar that ran the length of the room. He pulled the rope tightly, and my
arms were now stretched above my head.

I turned to look at Eddie, and saw him pick up a large whip from under the bed.
"Oh no" I started to beg ... "Please no, please ... don't hurt me, I'll do what
you want, I'll do what you say, just please don't hurt me." They didn't say a
word, just let out an evil laugh. The first sting of the whip was the worst. It
barely touched my right breast, but I could feel it throughout my entire body.
They took turns whipping me, Eddie whipping the front of my body, while Robert
whipped my back. It hurt so much. I was helpless. I was screaming, but they
didn't seem to care.

Eddie untied the rope from the bar, and my arms fell in front of me... my wrists
still tied together he pulled me over to the bed and tied the rope to the
headboard I was on my knees, facing the wall, and Robert moved up behind me. I
felt his bare hands on my ass. My wetness was apparent. The insides of my thighs
were soaked with my juices. He slapped my ass... From the corner of my eye, I
could see that Robert had undressed, and was now standing beside the bed. His
cock was huge, and I could see that it was fully erect. Eddie slapped my ass
again... I screamed, and Robert shoved a ball into my mouth, and strapped it
around my head. "Now we won't have to hear you bitching anymore you fucking
slut," said Robert.

Eddie moved off the bed, and started to undress. Robert climbed up behind me and
pressed his dick against my pussy. "Now I'm going to give you what your whore
ass has been waiting for." He shoved his cock in me, and started pumping. It
felt like he would split me open. My pussy was screaming. With each stroke I
felt wetter. He slammed into me relentlessly. I tried to scream, but only let
out a muffled squeak. Robert laughed. From behind me, I heard Eddie say, "What
about this?" He handed something to Robert, and I felt a slight pressure on my
asshole. I struggled to get away. "I'm sure you are used to things being in your
ass you whore. Now you're gonna have this butt plug in you whether you like it
or not. Don't fight me, you will not get away." And with that he pushed it into
my ass. It felt so large. My asshole burned with the pain. I came immediately.
The cum ran down my leg. "I knew you would love it, you fucking bitch," said
Robert. He fucked me harder. My pussy and ass were full. I came again. Robert
pulled his dick out of me, and I felt his hot cum squirt all over my ass, and
run down my thigh.

Robert got up and said he was going to the bathroom. I thought I could rest. I
thought it might be over. Eddie got on the bed and turned me on my back. " I
want you to sit on that butt plug. I want you to love it," he said. It felt like
it went even further into my ass. He pushed his cock into my pussy. I shook my
head no. He slapped my face. "Don't cry you horny fucking bitch!" He fucked me
hard, it seemed like forever. My pussy was hurting from all the abuse. My thighs
were red from the slapping of his legs against mine. He pulled out of me, and
shot his load in my face. I could feel the come covering my mouth and cheeks. He
got up and grabbed a rope. Tied my ankles together, and tied them to the bottom
of the bed. Eddie then walked over to his video camera, and popped out the tape.
He put it in the VCR in front of me, and hit rewind. While the tape was
rewinding he said, "I am going to leave for awhile. When this tape is over, it
will automatically rewind and play again." With that, he pushed play, and walked
out of the room.

I laid there. My wrists tied above my head to the headboard. My ankles tied to
the bottom of the bed, and a butt plug still shoved up my ass. Cum was covering
my face, and I was watching a video of my own rape.

I must have fallen asleep at sometime, and I awoke to voices coming in the room.
It was Robert and Eddie, they were back. They stood there for a moment and
stared at me. I was humiliated. I ached from being tied this way all night. They
walked over towards me, and asked if I was hungry. I said, "yes." Eddie said,
"If you want some food you have to suck our dicks." After all this, they wanted
me to give them head for food? I reluctantly shook my head yes. Robert started
to untie me. My arm and legs were stiff. My mouth and cheeks hurt from the ball
gag that had been there all night. After untying me, they both sat on the side
of the bed and Robert said, "Get on your knees!" I said, "What about this," and
motioned to the butt plug that was still firmly planted in my ass. "That stays
for now," replied Eddie.

I got down on my knees in front of them. Dried cum on my face from the night
before. With one cock in each hand, I put Eddy's dick in my mouth and started
sucking. I licked and sucked, and then switched over to Robert. He was rougher,
and grabbed the back of my head shoving his cock down my throat. Back and forth
I went between the two of them. Sucking their dicks, licking their balls. They
came all over my face and tits. Then Robert told me to turn around, and he
pulled the butt plug from my ass. OUCH! But after the pain there was relief that
my ass was now empty. Eddie set in front of me a sandwich, and told me to eat
quickly. I did as he said. While I was eating, they explained to me that my will
would no longer be my own. Why? Simply because they said so. If I did not do as
they said, whenever they said, or if I tried to resist them, or get away, I
would be punished.

I finished eating and Eddie told me to get up and follow him. He walked in the
bathroom and turned on the shower. "Get in," he ordered. I pulled off what was
left of my stockings and got in the shower. "Clean yourself," he said. He sat
down on the toilet and watched.

It felt good to wash myself and be clean... When I moved my hand down to wash my
pussy, Eddie told me to finger myself. I sat down in the shower, and started
masturbating. I quickly came, the water on my body felt so good. When I was
clean, he told me to get out of the shower, and he handed me a towel. I dried
myself, and asked him, "Can I have some clothes?" He laughed. "You don't deserve
any clothes you fucking slut!" He grabbed the towel from me, and told me to go
lay on the bed. I laid there, and waited.

Robert walked over to the bed and laid next to me. He was naked. He told me to
get up on top of him, and ride his dick. I just laid there. My pussy already
hurt so much!!! He grabbed my hair, and slapped my ass. "Get on my dick now," he
said. I got up on top of him, and slid his dick in my pussy. "Now ride," he
said. I slowly started riding his dick... he grabbed my dick and moved me
faster. I kept up this pace, and he grabbed my tits, and squeezed. Eddie walked
into the room, and got on the bed. He moved up behind me and pressed his dick to
my still sore asshole. I stopped fucking Robert and said, "Wait, stop...
please... no" He slapped my ass and pulled a pair of clamps from a drawer beside
the bed. "When will you learn," he said and attached the clamps to my nipples. I
screamed. The pain was like a burning. Robert told me to keep fucking him, and I
did. Then, Eddie pushed his cock into my ass. It hurt, and I moaned. I couldn't
stop moaning. My body shuddered as the slammed their cocks in and out of my
pussy and ass. Eddie kept spanking me, and Roberts's hands were firmly squeezing
my burning tits.

Two dicks... tearing me apart. It seemed like forever that they fucked me that
way... When Eddie was about to cum, he pulled his dick out of my mouth and told
me to swallow his cum... I opened my mouth to say no, he pushed his dick in and
came. I swallowed his warm cum. Robert did the same. Pulled his cock out of my
pussy and made me swallow his load. I slumped over, defiled. I wondered what
more they could do to me... I wondered when it would end.

They both stood over me and laughed... "Look at this fucking slut... all
abused... you got what you wanted, are you satisfied now, or do you want more?"
I did not reply. I wondered what time it was. I wondered how long I had been
there. They pulled me up on the bed and tied me to the bar that stretched across
the room once more. I started to beg, "Please don't hurt me anymore, I will do
whatever you say. Just don't hit me any more, please! PLEASE!" They both
laughed. "Beg all you want bitch, it turns me on, said Eddie. I struggled to see
if my hands could slip free from the ropes... They both just looked at me and
smiled.

They started tying ropes around my body... my arms holding them together, my
breasts were bound together tightly, making them seem larger than life... they
tied my ankles apart attached to 2 small posts sticking out from the floor (I
had not noticed these before) Robert pulled out a big blue vibrating dildo and
approached me... "We have to take off for awhile, this will keep you company."
With that he shoved the dildo into my pussy. Eddie then came up behind me and
pushed the butt plug into my ass once again. They tied ropes around my pussy
securing the toys in place... then Robert refastened the clamps to my nipples. I
was writhing in pleasure and pain. The vibrations from the dildo in my pussy
made me cum instantly. As they were walking out of the room, Eddie said, "We may
have a friend with us when we come back, so be sure you look your best!" And
they laughed as they walked out of the room.

They left me there...spread eagle, bound, clamps on my nipples, the vibrator
buzzing in my pussy, and that damn butt plug... it seemed like HOURS.... I came
numerable times... I lost count after 6... My head was spinning... My body was
numb. My thighs were coated with my own cum.

I heard a noise coming from the other room. Eddie slammed the door open and
shouted, "Honey, were home! How was your day? Did you do anything interesting?"
He laughed. "We have a surprise for you," he said. "Something a little slut like
you will probably enjoy." He walked over to the door of the room and yelled down
the hallway, "Do you want me to leave this bitch tied up, or what? What about
the dildo & butt plug?" I heard a strange voice answer back, "Leave her tied up,
but take those toys out." This voice was odd, and I thought it sounded like a
woman. All I knew, was at least I was getting a little relief. Eddie pulled the
toys out of me, and I felt so weak... standing there completely naked wrists
above my head, legs spread and tied apart. Eddie went and sat on the bed. Robert
came in, and took a seat on the bed also. They just sat there, staring at me. I
thought this was odd. But then I remembered the other voice.

I looked over towards the door, and standing there was indeed a woman. She was
wearing black latex pants, a corset, and huge boots with spiky heels. I noticed
that the latex seemed so shiny. Robert pulled out a tape and slipped it into the
camera that was still mounted on the tripod, and then retook his seat. The woman
walked over to me, and looked me up and down. She walked around to the back of
me, and gave my ass a light pat. The woman looked over at the guys and said, "I
see you have been having some fun with this whore." They laughed and smiled.

"I have been brought here to train you," the woman said to me. "When I ask you
to speak, you call me mistress. Do you understand?" She looked into my eyes. I
said, "Yes." She slapped my face. "Yes what?" she screamed. "Yes, mistress I
responded." She smiled and said, "good slave." She continued, "Now, we are going
to go over some rules... do you understand?"

"Yes mistress"

"Good! You learn quickly! Okay... first, do not speak unless you are spoken to.
If you do, you will be punished. Next, if you resist, you will be punished. If
you try to get away, or escape, you will be punished. When you are told to do
something, if you do not do it quickly enough, you will be punished. Do you
understand all these rules?"

"Yes Mistress," I replied.

"Please tell me when this will all end?" I pleaded. The woman looked at me
calmly and said, "Now we will begin your punishment."

"But, what....? Why...?" I screamed. "Shut your fucking mouth slave," she
yelled. She walked across the room and looked into a bag. From her bag she
pulled out handcuffs, and walked back over towards me. She stood in front of me,
and slid off her latex pants. Underneath she was wearing nothing. She reached up
and untied my wrists from the bar... she freed my wrists from the ropes. My arms
burned from them being tied above my head all day. She slapped the handcuffs on
my wrists, and they were now bound behind my back... she untied my feet and told
me to get on my knees. I quickly did what she said, hoping that she would be
nice to me.

"Pleasure me," she said. I looked up at her and she slapped me. "Lick my fucking
pussy NOW bitch!" I slid my tongue up along her clit and started lapping at her
juices. I slid my tongue in to her pussy, and she grabbed my head and pressed my
face into her pussy. My face was soaked with her juices. I licked and sucked at
her pussy. When she came she wiped her pussy all over my face and told me to
clean it... I obediently followed her command.

I was wet from licking her pussy, my nipples were hard too, and everybody could
see that. She pulled me up off my knees and through me face down over the side
of a table that was in the corner of the room.

"Stay there, Don't move," she barked. She walked over to her bag and this time
pulled out a huge strap on. This had to be the biggest fake dick I've ever seen.
She walked back over to me, and told me to spread my legs farther apart... She
grabbed my hips, and shoved that huge fake dick completely into my pussy.
"Oops," she said, "Wrong hole!" She pulled it out of my pussy and slammed it
into my asshole. I screamed loud, she laughed.

"Beg me to fuck your ass whore," she said.

So I did. "Please fuck me Mistress, fuck my ass hard, make me hurt, rip it open!
Please fuck me hard, please!" She was slamming that dick in my ass so hard I
thought it was going to come out my throat. I was screaming, I couldn't stand
the pain, and my pussy was sopping wet. My ass was red from her slapping. They
guys were grinning wide from there positions on the bed. She through me down on
the bed, and said to Robert and Eddie, "I think my job here is done. This little
slut should not be a problem anymore." She removed her handcuffs, grabbed her
bag, and walked out he door.

Eddie and Robert looked at me and smiled. They both had raging hard cocks. Eddie
said to me, "If you're not a good little slave we will have to call her back."
With that I passed out from exhaustion... Wondering when my captors would free
me. Wondering if my new Master would ever let me go.

On her belly with her face smashed against the back of the cage, Joan began to truly feel the horrors of her current predicament. The dog cage was a humane size for a medium dog, which was an inhumane size for just about any human. On her knees and crouching, Joan would've barely fit. Instead, Gerald had shoved her in face first, lifted her feet as they stuck out a good ways, and shut the door quickly, pushing and shoving until he was able to slip the lock around the door and the cage, leaving the poor woman shaped like a boomerang.

Joan's limbs were finally beginning to respond, though sluggishly. She was able to slowly, painfully pull her left arm from under her body and her right leg down from its extremely awkward angle up and against the door of the cage she now inhabited, and bend it up under her which, while not exactly comfortable, was a far more natural position.

Feebly she kicked at the door with her left leg, as it was beginning to get feeling back, but the door didn't budge.

She heard voices coming from her living room. It sounded like three or four different ones, all male. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but she could tell they were laughing and joking and having a good time in general.

This had obviously been a huge mistake. She'd wanted to be dominated, not tortured. Obviously, though, this man, who went by Master Jerry online, had no interest in romance or even respect of any sort. The first thing he had done, before saying a word to her, was violate her hard limit which was something, according to everything she read, a good dom would never do.

She would've complained, tried to get him to leave her home, but well before the drugs had worn off, before he'd shoved her contorted body into the cage, he had fitted her limp mouth with a large ring gag. Her speech was now limited to incomprehensible ooo's and aah's, and from her experiences browsing the web, she knew there were far more devious uses for her mouth in its current position.

Once the drug began to wear off, its effects rapidly diminished, and within thirty torturous minutes Joan had nearly full use of her body, though her mind was still a bit muddled. She had managed to pull both her legs up underneath her body, which enabled her to pull her face away from the back of the cage and support herself on her hands and knees, leaving about six inches of space in front and behind.

She tried to turn around so that she could more easily see the door of the cage, but there simply wasn't enough room, no matter how much she tried to squeeze herself. Joan was thin, but she was also tall, and her extra length was a definite disadvantage in this case.

Footsteps were coming down the hall, and the voices, still talking and laughing, were getting closer.

Joan began trembling uncontrollably, tears streaming down her already make-up streaked face, as even the drugs had not prevented her from crying.

------------------------------------------------------------------

“I don't know, there's something to be said for the really light, skinny ones, too,” said Gerald, in the midst of an ongoing conversation with one of his clients, whom he also considered friends and kindred spirits.

“Oh I agree!” said an unusually large man, named Tim, with a very deep voice, “but I see a woman with big tits and ass and I just wanna hop in bed and make love to her all night. Skinny ones like this, I want to torture, to break. It's weird.”

“Not really,” replied Gerald, “actually I'd say the tall and thin ones usually have a shorter lifespan with my clients. Petite, curvy girls tend to go home with someone who halfway falls in love with them. Big girls, skinny or otherwise, seem to catch hell.”

“I guess I haven't been doing this long enough,” said a third voice, coming from an older man named Joe, “but I still get excited at the idea of playing with any of Gerald's toys, regardless of build or anything else.”

“We all do,” said Tim, “but you'll get preferences, eventually. My ex-wife was tall and skinny, so I think that's why I prefer smaller, curvy women to love on, and ones like Joan to torture. I keep getting meaner, though, I think. After doing this for a few years, I guess I'm getting desensitized, though I haven't killed any of them, I don't think.”

“Pfft,” replied Gerald, “you're a big teddy bear compared to Sam.”

“Heh,” stated a gravely voice with very little actual humor. The voice belonged to a small, psychotic looking man with gray hair, bright blue eyes, and pocked skin. The others didn't seem to expect him to add anything further to the conversation.

Gerald and Tim were the first to come in to view. Gerald tossed his keys to Tim who caught them in mid-air and pocketed them. As Sam and Joe entered the room, Tim looked down to examine their latest victim.

“Going soft, Gerald?” Tim said. “This cage is a bit big for her, isn't it?”

“Eh, the other cage is all bent up from the last girl, I still need to replace it,” Gerald replied.

“Gee, I wonder how that happened?” said Tim, and all the men chuckled. Joan wasn't sure that she wanted in on the joke.

“Aren't there usually five of us?” asked Joe.

“Yeah,” said Gerald, “but Wes called me a few minutes after he replied to the email and said he wouldn't be able to make it, had a business meeting he'd forgotten about. The other guy is new, and he said he wanted to come tomorrow.”

“Oh?” said Tim, his eyebrows raised, “why is that?”

“He's a plastic surgeon,” said Gerald, “gets his kicks off doing shit with needles, didn't want to get in the way the first day.”

Joan began screaming and bouncing around in her cage, exhibiting far more energy than Gerald would've thought she'd have at this stage. Panic can be a wonderful motivator, however.

Sam found this hilarious. The other two men were taken aback.

“Wow, hard limit?” asked Tim.

“Hah, yeah, damn,” replied Gerald, obviously a bit surprised himself.

Still laughing, Sam closed the bedroom door.

“We ready?” he said, with a voice that sounded as if he'd smoked cigarettes since birth.

“Sure,” said Tim, “let's do this.”

Tim unlocked the cage, opened the door, and reached over Joan's back to grab her hair, tugging on it to force her to back out of the cage, then standing her up.

Her legs, still wobbly, fought to support her weight so that her hair wouldn't have to. Tim, still holding her upright, used his other hand to begin fondling her breasts through the silky night gown material. Joan reflexively lifted her hands to attempt to deflect, and Sam promptly kneed her in the stomach for her effort, completely deflating her lungs and causing her body to try to bend forward. Tim, however, was having none of it, and held on to her hair with a death grip.

As she gasped for air, desperately trying to breath, Joe was alternately putting his fingers in and covering her open mouth, pinching her nose shut, and putting pressure on random places on her throat, increasing her terror. Her eyes were wide in horror and she was making strange gurgling noises from her gagged mouth.

“You guys wanna fuck her straight out or hurt her some?” Tim asked as if he were asking his buddies which football game they wanted to watch.

“Let's put the shock collar on her and play 'Pinball'” said Joe.

“Okay,” said Tim, looking toward Gerald who was already walking to his tool chest to retrieve the needed items.

“I got a new shock collar, actually,” said Gerald, sounding excited.

“Glad to see our dough goes to a good cause,” Sam replied.

Gerald pulled the collar out of the box and tossed it to Tim, who was surprised to see to see four leads with alligator clips on the ends coming out of the black box attached to the collar.

It was fairly obvious what the leads were for, even to Joan, who would've slumped in defeat had she not been still held upright by her hair.

Tim pulled the woman's arms behind her back, holding her slender wrists together easily with just one hand, and grabbed her chin, angling it upward, with the other.

Joe secured the collar to Joan's throat with a look of concentration on his face, showing his lack of experience compared to the other men. Joan strained her eyes downward to try to see what he was doing while Tim held her fast. Once the collar was on and buckled, Joe tucked the leads into the front of her gown.

He then lifted the gown, fully exposing the terrified woman, and grabbed the leads, two short and two long. As he clamped one of the short ones onto her left nipple, Joan squealed and began to stomp her foot as she struggled against Tim's insurmountable strength. Tim had moved his hand a bit further down and was firmly grasping Joan's neck. The right nipple elicited yet another long scream, and Joan began to wriggle in earnest, blindly trying to escape Tim's grip without any thought of the consequences.

The clips were obviously made to be painful as they drew little droplets of blood as soon as they gripped her tender flesh.

Joe then knelt and began spreading Joan's vulva. The woman tried to twist a bit more as her flesh turned red from embarrassment at this humiliation.

“Nice pussy,” Joe said to no one in particular as he grasped at her small, tight vulval lip with his thumb and forefinger, and yanked downward. Once he'd stretched it down about an inch, he clipped another of the leads onto it, piercing her immediately with six tiny holes.

Joan continued whining and squirming as Joe also clamped the last lead onto the other side of her pussy.

Tim let her loose, Joe stood back, and Joan stumbled forward, nearly falling but regaining her balance at the last moment. She hesitated for a moment as the men stared at her, waiting for her to react to her sudden freedom.

Joan did the first thing any woman in her situation would have done. She reached down to remove the clamp from her cunt.

White fire lanced through her insides, emanating from her tits and pussy, sending her crashing spasmodically to the floor on her side, twitching violently, her tongue sticking out of the ring gag and flailing about. It had looked as if her feet and legs had suddenly tried to outrun her body, and partially succeeded.

All of the men laughed.

“Damn, Gerald!” Joe said between gasps of laughter, “don't you think that was a bit overboard?”

Gerald, laughing hardest of them all, partially in embarrassment, said, “Yeah, I had it set where I used to set the old one, about halfway up. I guess that's overboard for this one.”

He dialed it down a few notches as Tim, once again, helped Joan to her feet, this time facing him, by use of her hair. She was still jerking a bit, barely able to support herself when released.

“Okay, here's the game,” Tim said, looking straight at Joan, who was still shuddering and blinking spasmodically, obviously not yet fully recovered from the effects of the shock. “We each are going to hold out a needle, like so.”

Tim pointed at Gerald who showed her a needle, about three inches long, with a pronounced head.

It was unclear if Joan was trembling in terror of the needle or still suffering from the electricity. She wanted to wrap her arms around herself, but she didn't dare make Gerald think she was going to touch the biting clamps. Instead, she alternately flexed and stretched her hands, holding them well away from her body, while doing her best to say “no, no, no, no” through the ring gag. If they could tell what she was saying, they didn't care.

“You're going to walk up to one of us and point to a body part,” Gerald continued, “and we're going to hold the needle up to that body part while you impale yourself on it.”

Joan looked incredulous. Surely they didn't expect her to actually do this...did they?

“Do you understand?” Gerald asked. “Nod your head yes, or no.”

Joan began backing away from him and his distended needle, shaking her head in horror. She jumped when she heard a gravelly voice from behind her say, “Which part?”

She spun around and saw Sam holding yet another needle out toward her, smiling evilly. Reflexively, Joan again tried to back up. Only this time she got shocked, albeit with less power than the first time.

“You have to pick a spot,” said Gerald, “can't just walk off. You picked Sam, now where do you want him to put it? I suggest a breast. It's soft, heals quick, and there's nothing vital in there. You better decide quick, too, or Sam will decide for you.”

“Heh,” said Sam, staring at the tortured woman with a gleam in his eye.

“Ah kah! Ah kah! O, eee” said Joan, attempting to tell them that she couldn't do this and beg them to not make her.

Sam was having none of it. With lightning speed, his right hand popped her throat, sending her to her knees, gasping for breath. With his left hand, he propped Joan's right eye open while pushing her back toward the ground. Her elbow was painfully stressed as Sam's strength worked against Joan's bracing right hand. Even her left eye was wide, and she made choking and gasping sounds as her left hand pawed at her throat.

No one really saw it coming, including Joan, ironically. The other men could've probably guessed had they had time to think on it, but such was the nature of Sam; no matter how brutal they thought he might be, he always proved that they had underestimated him.

“Be still,” he told her, and she stayed as still as she could while gasping and wheezing.

Then, with his right hand, Sam took the sharp, gleaming needle, and drove all three inches of it straight into Joan's pupil.

Joan made a very strange, high pitched screaming roar as she fell backward onto the floor and began rolling back and forth with her hands covering her eyes while kicking her feet in the air, still coughing violently.

The other three men reflexively turned away in horror while Sam watched the tortured woman with interest, one corner of his mouth turned up in a grin.

Within seconds they had all recovered and were again watching the woman squirm about.

“Fuck me, Sam, that was...wow...” said Joe, shock and awe apparent on his face.

Tim, being the intellectual of the group, had his head cocked and brow furrowed in thought as he said, “I guess I'm sort of surprised she didn't move out of the way, though if someone told me to be still and came at my eye with a needle, I'm not sure what I'd do.”

Watching her roll around on the ground, Sam began to unbuckle his belt. Pinball was over before it had begun as no one had ever been brave enough to stand between Sam and his victim once he had done something to her vicious enough to make him horny.

Joan, face down on the ground, howling, did not see the long, thin, hooked penis coming at her from behind.

Gerald had once asked Sam why his penis was hooked, pointed upward for the last inch. It was very strange looking, and obviously not natural. According to Sam, he had purposely gotten as hard as he possibly could, then broke it himself so that it would heal in a shape that would hurt women when he raped them.

Had it been anyone else that had told him such a story, Gerald would've laughed at them. He wasn't even sure he believed Sam, but he did believe him to be more capable of such a thing than any other man he'd known.

With but a grunt, Sam was on top of the woman and shoving his penis inside of her cunt, her flimsy nightgown providing no protection. The intrusion caught Joan completely off guard, and Gerald had the most amazing view of her staring straight at him with eyes wide, pin still lodged in her pupil, as she wrenched her head up to scream anew.

Sam pumped in and out of the poor woman, and it was obvious by the look on his face that he knew and enjoyed the fact that he was stabbing her on the inside. He'd push in hard and fast, and then pull out slowly, steadily. The pulling out seemed to hurt the most, going by the expressions on Joan's face.

Gerald wondered how much fucking a woman could take from Sam before it killed her. He hoped he wouldn't find out there and then as he really didn't want to have to refund the other customers' money, which he would certainly do if old Sam ripped her guts out with his dick, though the show would certainly be novel.

Though she was bleeding by the time he was done, Joan survived the assault. Gerald would've been very surprised had she not bled; she would've been the first.

To some men, a bleeding, cum filled woman laying on the ground after such a brutal encounter would be considered sloppy seconds at best, horrifying at worst. To Gerald's customers, it was hot as hell.

Sam laid on the woman for a moment with his eyes closed, breathing heavily, his weapon of a penis still lodged inside of her.

Joan breathed in and out, but otherwise it was hard to tell if she was alive. Her eyes were partially open and her body lay limp. Gerald figured she probably would've closed her eyes, but doing so was likely more painful than it was worth at this particular moment.

Then, as if he were a cyborg that had just recharged, Sam's eyes shot open and he stood. Now that he was flaccid, he penis just looked kind of broken. Being covered in blood didn't do much to dispel the idea.

Sam then went to the restroom, which was attached to the master bedroom, and closed the door.

“Well then,” said Tim, looking at Joan, still laying still on the ground. That was what he always said after Sam was done. Or, rather, almost done.

“So,” began Joe, “what now?”

“Wait for it,” Gerald said, holding a finger up. This was only Joe's third outing with Sam.

Tim, who was more experienced, laughed.

The restroom door opened, and out came Sam, again fully dressed and looking as if nothing had happened. Without a word to any of the others, the gray haired man walked up to Joan who weakly turned her head to look at him. The pleading look was gone from her eyes. For the moment, she was completely defeated and broken.

They all held their breath. They knew what was coming, but even for Gerald, who had watched this routine at least a dozen times, the exchange of looks between the rapist and victim was still quite dramatic.

After staring at her for a moment, Sam reared his right foot up in the air behind him and kicked the shit out of the poor woman with his steel toed boots. Gerald had never known Sam to not break a rib at this point, and he didn't disappoint this time around.

Joe, Tim, and Gerald all cringed as they heard the “snap” sound that, although they were expecting, was still very disturbing.

Joan's eyes again went wide as the air rushed from her lungs and the impact from Sam's foot rolled her over onto her back. Nothing could've prepared the woman for this, and the shock in her eyes was profound. Gerald was positive she would've screamed if she were able.

Then, without a word, Sam turned around and left. The men all watched him go, not at all surprised, but still amazed.

They turned their attention back to Joan, watching her writhe about in agony while making hiccuping sounds, trying desperately to fill her lungs with air.

Gerald could only imagine how much it must hurt to try to catch ones breath after such an impact, and he hoped he'd never have to find out. Her side would be deeply black and blue within twelve hours.

Gerald heard Sam's old muscle car start, but he did not pull off. Instead, he idled in front of Joan's house, waiting.

They all knew what he was waiting for, and they watched Joan in anticipation.

After a series of wheezes and squeals, Joan was finally able to take a somewhat deep breath.

Everyone plugged their ears with their fingers.

The loudest, most pained scream imaginable rang out through the neighborhood streets, echoing off the concrete and carrying for hundreds of feet in all directions.

The woman then quieted, moaning piteously to herself, and the men listened as Sam's car drove off into the distance.

Chapter 3

“So, uh,” said Joe, “what do we do about the needle in her eye?”

Gerald scratched his head, thinking. He really wasn't sure. As close to the brain as it was, that needle could definitely shorten her lifespan immensely if not removed, and that would certainly lower her profit making potential.

“I wonder if that Mark guy that does plastic surgery would know,” Gerald pondered aloud, his hands crossed over his chest as he looked thoughtfully at the woman curled up on the floor, quivering in a most erotic fashion.

He wasn't surprised that Joan hadn't tried to escape in the ten minutes or so they'd been discussing the situation. His victims rarely did. She, like so many before, had probably already consigned herself to death, so escape was hardly relevant.

The woman would not be so lucky. Although he couldn't be sure, Gerald already had plans stewing in his head involving a “forever home” for Joan.

“You guys, uh, do whatever,” Gerald said, waving dismissively at the whole room as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and walked into the hallway. Joe and Tim were seasoned enough to be trusted with free, unsupervised access. Well, seasoned and also mild enough. Sam was more seasoned than either of them, but he could never be trusted not to rip some poor woman's head off then run around the house with his dick in her throat from the wrong direction, or something equally grotesque and disturbing.

“Dr. Harold's office,” said a pleasant sounding young voice, much to Gerald's surprise since he was calling one of his own clients. Most of his customers didn't have any relationships, healthy or otherwise, with members of the sex they so loved to torture.

“Uh, um...” said Gerald stupidly, quickly having to put his mind in a different gear in order to deal with a woman on a more equal level. “May I speak to Dr. Harold? You can tell him it's Jerry, and it's somewhat important.”

“Hold please,” she replied.

Gerald listened to some crappy elevator music for a moment while slowly pacing the hall. He didn't care to be making outbound calls to customers; it simply wasn't safe.

While he waited for the plastic surgeon to answer the phone, Gerald walked up to the front door of Joan's home, locked it, and pocketed the key.


“This is Mark,” said a male voice smoothly with no perceptible accent as Gerald was making his way back toward the bedroom. If he had to guess, Gerald would assume this was a fairly normal voice for a successful plastic surgeon.

“Mark, Jerry, are we still on for tomorrow?” Gerald said.

“Well, yes, of course,” Mark replied, sounding confused.

“Okay, I just wanted to make sure you were who you were supposed to be,” Gerald responded.

The doctor laughed.

“Is that all you called for?” he asked.

“No, no, of course not,” Gerald replied. “Our charge, here, has gotten a needle in her eye. It's pretty bad. What do you suppose our course of action should be, from a doctor's point of view.”

“Well, I'm no general practitioner,” Mark replied, “but I would say you'd want to get her to a doctor ASAP. If left there, uh, too long, there would definitely be, um, consequences.”

“Okay, thank you sir,” replied Gerald, relieved that this Mark fellow had turned out to be intelligent and helpful.

“No problem, Jerry, no problem at all. And I look forward to seeing your wife in my office tomorrow.”

Gerald was momentarily shocked, but then realized that the doctor was merely carrying the charade one step further.

“Oh, she's looking forward to seeing you, too!” he replied after only a moment's pause. “Though maybe only half as much, at the moment.”

The doctor laughed, as did the men still in the room with Joan who were eavesdropping on the conversation.

After saying their goodbyes, Gerald hung up and pocketed his phone while walking back into Joan's bedroom.

“Yank it,” he said.

Tim looked a bit concerned, but Joe whipped out a swiss army knife and pulled out the set of plastic tweezers. Gerald was impressed.

Laying on her back, her eyes half closed, Joan had not evidenced any urge to fight, escape, or move much at all. Until she saw the tweezers coming for her eye.

“WAAAAGH!” she screamed, promptly jumping up and leaping for the doorway which was blocked by Gerald.

Catching him off guard, and having considerably more adrenaline running through her body, she nearly overpowered him and shoved her way out, making Gerald glad he'd already locked the front door.

Off balance and struggling to keep her from getting past, Gerald nearly fell forward as the woman suddenly stopped her breakneck charge and collapsed onto the ground with a squeak.

Tim, coming up from behind, had lightly touched her injured side, and the resulting agony had completely drained her of all fight.

Gerald knelt and grabbed Joan's face by the jaw while putting on knee in her stomach, keeping her pinned and forcing her to struggle for breath, further sapping any will to resist. Tim, with his much larger hands, put his right thumb and forefinger in each of her temples and squeezed, immobilizing her head, while holding her wrists together above her head. With his other hand, Gerald propped the woman's eye open as Joe descended upon her with his tweezers.

It took three attempts, and Joan nearly broke free of even Tim and Gerald's combined grip, but Joe was able to extract the needle. It looked longer coming out than it did going in, and Gerald thought he was going to wretch.

Needles in the tits or legs or whatever didn't really bother him, but something about a needle in the eye really turned his stomach. Tim didn't look much better off.

Joe, though, was completely unaffected, and as he was wearing shorts and standing over the woman on all fours, it was very obvious to both Gerald and Tim that Joe would be more than happy to take his turn next.

Inserting the needle had done it for Sam. Removing it had, somehow, done it for Joe.

After watching her blink a few times, Joe looked up at Gerald who simply told him to “have at her.” He was limp as an earthworm and figured Tim probably was, too.

Joe was elated. Tim and Gerald moved out of the way as Joe put a hand under each of the woman's armpits and drug her over to her bed. This was something that Gerald had noticed about Joe in the few times that he'd had him as a customer. Joe had a thing for raping women on their own beds.



He also liked them on top, which meant not being first worked out very well for him. During the first rape, very few women were complacent enough to be on top. By the second dick, they were generally pretty tame, though there were exceptions.

As Joe neared the bed, Joan stood on her own, apparently knowing what the man intended and deciding to comply instead of making it harder on herself.

Gerald again felt life between his legs as he saw the woman standing, wincing in pain, likely emanating from her side. Her knee length white night gown fell neatly into place, with the exceptions of the bulges at her tits where one could see the outline of the clips and the wires that ran up to the collar on her neck.

Her physical appearance, mostly unharmed, belied her condition and the pain she was feeling from various parts of her body.

For a moment, Joan looked pitifully into Gerald's eyes as if hoping, if only briefly, that the person she thought he might be was in there somewhere.

Gerald smiled back, looking neither menacing nor ashamed nor even necessarily happy. Just content.

Joan was another paycheck; nothing more, nothing less.

Her head hung as Joe tugged at her wrist and, sobbing, Joan began to mount the older man who was laying on his back.

As she put a leg on either side and began lowering her cunt onto his dick, her eyes closed in shame, she felt a finger shoved roughly into her ass. Her eyes shot open and she looked piteously at Joe, but he made it clear with the hook in his finger and a lifting motion that he wanted his penis to go in the other hole.

Joan was secretly glad. Although she considered anal sex to be a very private and sacred thing, it was actually her favorite, and she was relieved that Joe wouldn't be putting anything into her injured pussy. She didn't know what kind of damage had been done in there and she was fairly certain that aggravating it this soon would lead to nothing but trouble and pain.

Her ass, on the other hand, could handle anything with the proper amount of lube.

Acting out of habit, Joan reached her hand into her pussy, wincing as sharp pains shot through her groin and stomach. As she went to push her finger into her own ass, however, Joe's hand grasped her wrist, pulling it away.


“No lube,” he said.

“Oh caw...” Joan said, which was ring-gagged for “Oh god.”

Tears flowing anew, Joan sat on Joe's dick. He wasn't long, but he didn't need to be. He was by far the widest she had ever taken in her ass, and she had no idea how to approach this with no lube.

Joe, grabbing her hips, gladly took over and began pushing her roughly down onto his dick.

The lack of lubrication hurt Joe as well, which merely increased his erotic drive.

Joan felt like she was taking it in the ass for the first time all over again. She had to constantly remind herself to relax her sphincter to prevent tearing, but the pain was so intense that she was automatically clamping down, making things even harder on herself. It was a natural reflex that she was finding impossible to override, and the width of his dick was not helping matters.

She felt as if her body was being split in half from the bottom up, and she'd never, ever had this feeling from anal before. He must not have been completely hard at first, she thought, because surely he was even wider than she had seen.

Joan had given up on relaxing and was now just pushing, knowing from experience that it was much easier once it was all the way in.

Luckily for Joan, lubrication soon supplied itself. Unluckily, the lubrication was in the form of blood trickling down from the agonizing rip in her flesh just above her anus.

Instinctively Joan tried to push herself off her rapist, but Joe was already in full swing and had a tight grip on her hips, making it difficult to breath and producing sharp pains from her damaged ribs.

His dick being rather short worked to Joan's disadvantage. Instead of getting all the way in and then pumping up and down, Joe entered and exited with every thrust. The split in her flesh was growing and blood was trickling freely.

It was as if she were being raped, stabbed, and punched in the anus, all at the same time.

“That blood?” Joe asked the two men watching from the floor on the other side of the room. Both were now rock hard.

“Yeah...” said Tim, with a bit of wonder in his voice, “a lot of it.”

The feeling of Joan's blood trickling down his scrotum, in combination with her teardrops on his chest and the futile resistance from her legs pushing against the bed made Joe a happy man indeed. He'd read her profile, and knew that she had enjoyed anal before this meeting. He was sadistically ecstatic that he'd taken that away from her.

As he emptied himself into the woman's injured ass, he reveled in the fact that he would likely be the last person to ever take her there. Unless, of course, someone else decided to take her by force.

Chapter 4

Technically, it would be Tim’s turn. He didn’t look too terribly excited, however.

Once Joe was done, he’d pushed Joan off of himself, inadvertently knocking her off the bed as well. Luckily for Joan, her hands were not yet bound, so she was able to catch herself instead of landing on her damaged ribs. The bleeding from the rip above her anus was a fraction of what it had been while Joe was still going at it, but it was still bleeding, and while watching the rape play out in front of him had been highly erotic, the idea of actually putting his dick into her while she was actively bleeding was a bit of a turn off for Tim.

Joan was sitting propped up on her right hand, her panting through the ring gag making her sound a bit like Darth Vader. She was looking back and forth between Gerald and Tim with an alert look in her eyes that Gerald took note of. It seemed that although cracking a rib and sticking a needle in her eye had knocked the fight out of her for a while, the anal raping had woken her up a bit. Although it was a bit unusual, Gerald wasn’t terribly surprised. Different women reacted in different ways to different situations. He was, however, intrigued.

“Mind if I look through your toy box, Jerry?” Tim asked.

“Nah, go ahead,” Gerald replied, somewhat distracted, watching Joan’s eyes cut from the door, then back to him. As Tim moved toward the box full of bondage items, he left Gerald the only one standing between Joan and what she thought was freedom. Gerald, who was much smaller in stature than Tim, and whom she had almost overpowered before.

Gerald, his eyes never leaving Joan’s, saw that the woman had immediately recognized the supposed opportunity. Her injured eye blinked slower than her left, her injured side was already turning blue around her hand, and the rip on her backside must have been agonizing, but none of that would really keep her from being able to at least run out the front door and scream for help. She subtly changed her posture to one more suited for sprinting than recuperating.

Joan wasn’t stupid. In fact, she was quite smart. None of them had any weapons that she had noticed, and the only one that seemed likely at all to have something concealed would be Gerald, and he hadn’t reached for anything earlier when she’d almost knocked him over. She had no way of knowing that Gerald had her locked in her own home with his modifications to the doors and windows, nor that he’d seen the same look in different womens’ eyes many times before. That he was watching her was no surprise. She’d been the focus of attention since she was pulled out of the cage.

“Hey Gerald,” Joe said from Joan’s bed, where he was still laying on his back staring at the ceiling, relaxing with one arm behind his head, under her pillows.

She waited until Gerald had broken eye contact with her to look over at Joe, then sprang into action, bolting for the door.

Startled at the sudden noise and movement, Joe sat up and Tim dropped the piece of equipment for which he’d been trying to discern the use and turned quickly around just in time to see the trailing edge of Joan’s night gown as she ran out into the hall.

Gerald, however, was standing perfectly still, watching the horrified look on Joe’s face turn to one of confusion, and noting that Tim had a rather stupid look on his, though comprehension was slowly dawning. They had reason to be confused – their victim had just escaped, and Gerald was just standing there trying to contain a grin. He didn’t even have the remote for the shock collar in hand.

Then they heard a noise from the hall.

Thud – THUD – ka-clunk…

Gerald stepped into the hallway and began laughing in earnest.

Tim shook his head, his big body shaking with silent laughter, but Joe was lost. He sat up, wiped his now limp and bloody penis on the blanket on Joan’s bed, and walked out into the hallway.

Laying on her back where the hall met the living room was Joan, a syringe sticking out of her left side. There was a white powdery substance on her right shoulder, and a large dent in the drywall of the hallway that Joe was sure hadn’t been there before.

Blinking, a half grin on his face, Joe turned to Gerald, who responded before any questions could be asked.

“I got her on the left side as she ran past, so that’s where she lost it first. I figure she bounced off the wall on the left, then crashed full force into the other side,” he said, making hand gestures and tilting his upper body left and right to compliment his theory. “Not sure how she ended up on her back instead of her face, though.”

Just as Joe was about to ask why he didn’t just sedate her there in the bedroom if he’d already been prepared for her to try and escape, Gerald continued.

“In a minute or so Tim’s gonna pull the collapsible doggie stand that’ll hold her on her hands and knees out of the box and ask if we want to go watch TV while he skull fucks her sitting on her couch. Now we don’t have to drag her all the way down the hall.”

“Didn’t he do that same thing with the last one?” Joe asked, bemused. Gerald’s ability to predict the future never ceased to amaze him.

“Didn’t you sodomize the last one on her bed?” Gerald retorted, then nodded toward Joan’s prone body. “You guys are all as predictable as they are. Lucky for you, they’re prettier and more fun to torture.”

He certainly has a point, Joe thought as he watched Gerald grab Joan by her arms and drag her toward the couch.

“’Scuse me,” Tim said as he squeezed past Joe, the big man carrying a folded iron contraption and headed toward the living room.

—————————

There was something oddly surreal about three guys sitting on a couch watching prime time television and eating pizza while orally raping a woman over and over again.

Though the paralyzation hadn’t lasted nearly as long, it had been doubly horrifying to be used in such a manner without being able to even tense her muscles or provide any resistance. It was, by far, the most helpless she had ever felt in her life as she was pulled up and down Tim’s cock by her hair. She’d been able to see and feel the contraption that she’d been locked into, and she held no delusions that she could escape from it.

A metal bar in the shape of a capital I with cuffs at each point held her on her hands and knees. Her waist and throat were strapped to two bars that pointed straight up from the I, preventing her from laying down. She would be at attention to suck them off for as long as they wanted her to be.

The fact that they’d stripped her of her night gown also made escaping out the front door less desirable, though she chastised herself mentally for being so stupidly vain. It didn’t matter anyway. Before they’d bound her, Gerald had taken the time to show her what he had done to the front and back doors, both of which could be seen from her living room, and explained what he did to the windows. Aside from breaking a window, all of which were double paned, or stealing the key to the front door from Gerald, Joan knew she was trapped.

“Don’t we need to feed her or something?” Joe asked, watching as Tim took his second turn while Joan, though clenching her fists hard enough that her knuckles were white, seemed to have accepted her situation. Joe remembered that, when it was his turn, she had
even used a little tongue, probably in an effort to bring a quicker end to her torture. Unfortunately for Joan, men have a tendency to become instantly multi-orgasmic when there is violence and torture involved, though Joe noticed that his member was pretty much exhausted, even after watching Tim blast his load down the throat of the sobbing woman.

“Nah, she can survive off jizz for a little while. I’ll probably feed her something tonight…maybe.” Gerald replied, never taking his eyes off the television.

Tim, finished for the evening, asked if either of the men wanted to take another turn. Both declined, leaving Joan in the humiliating position of being bound in such a manner, used, and now discarded. Her hopes of being released, now that they were finished with her, were also dashed by Tim’s next question.

“Normal fuckfest tomorrow?” the big man asked while buttoning and zipping his pants.

Gerald, after taking a moment to laugh at the end of the show he had been watching, replied, “Yep, of course, I make almost as much money off all them as I do you guys. And then that surgeon is coming in the evening. He paid extra for alone time.”

“Really?” Joe said, sounding surprised, “for this one? She’s not ugly by any stretch, but we’ve had prettier. Why this one?”

Joan was again humiliated by the offhanded insult, but was more worried about the idea of alone time with a surgeon than any humiliation.

Gerald powered off the TV and looked over at Joe.

“Her hard limit.”

“Oh, shit, ouch, poor woman,” said Joe, while Tim cringed reflexively at the thought of a surgeon with a woman at his disposal that had a phobia of needles.

The woman on the floor was on the verge of panic, but a glimmer of hope had appeared in what sounded like possible sympathy coming from Joe. Maybe even he knew that needles were far more horrifying than anything anyone deserved.

“Any idea what he plans to do with her,” Joe asked hesitantly, “or do I even want to know?”

“I didn’t ask,” Gerald responded, while standing up and stretching, “I’m hoping he’ll take her after he’s done with her. Plastic surgeons see themselves as artists, after all. Surely he’ll want to keep his work, right?”

“I can see that,” said Joe, in a noncommittal voice that dashed any hopes Joan may have had that he would help her. “After all, what good will she be once he’s done with her, to anyone but him?”

“That’s kind of what I’m thinking,” replied Gerald, sounding a bit worried. “Tim, would you mind hauling her into her room? I’m ready for bed.”

“No problem,” the big man replied as he stood.

Wrapping one big hand around the bar that held Joan’s waist aloft, Tim hefted her up, bondage and all, and flipped her upside down, using the bottom of the stand as a convenient handle. Joan screamed reflexively from behind her ring gag as all her weight suddenly shifted, gravity became her worst enemy, and new bruises were abruptly created on the back of her neck and the small of her back.

Luckily the trip was a short one, and after watching her hall go by from a completely new point of view, Joan was deposited right side up beside her bed. Gerald promptly wrapped a chain tightly around her waist, locked it, then attached it to the frame of her bed. He did not release her from the I bar.

Her bloodied covers were tossed to the floor so that Gerald would have a clean place to sleep.

“You guys sticking around,” Gerald asked his two sleepy looking customers.

“Naw,” said Tim, “I don’t care to see what happens to her.”

“Me either,” said Joe, “the eye thing was more than enough for one…lifetime.”

“I don’t blame you!” Gerald said, then followed them into the front room.

Once left alone, Joan briefly tugged at her restraints in a flurry of frustration and tears, but the straps held fast and she was sure there was no way she could escape the chain around her waist.

Gerald returned to see that, not surprisingly, Joan had moved about an inch and was completely flustered, her face and eyes red with tears flowing freely.

“I’ll take that gag off and give you some water, but you have to promise you will not say a word. Not one,” Gerald said, “can you do that?”

Joan nodded quickly, as Gerald assumed she would. She had no doubt that he would either shock the hell out of her, or, at the very least, but the gag right back in if she said a thing. Not that she planned on remaining silent, but she was going to take time to consider what she would say, as she knew she might only have once chance.

After he’d removed the ring gag and gone to get her a cup of water, Joan flexed her jaw back and forth, attempting to work out the stiffness that resulted from being held open for hours on end.

Although intensely thirsty, Joan was unable to drink all of the water that Gerald patiently fed her from the oversized cup he’d found in her kitchen. She found the ease with which he fed water to a bound woman very disturbing.

She really needed to use the restroom, but was afraid to use her one chance on something like that. Even if he didn’t already know that, by now, she must need to pee, he probably wouldn’t care and would expect her to hold it until he felt like releasing her, whenever that would be.

Gerald, however, was prepared for such needs, and went to his bag, which was behind Joan and out of her sight, for the remedy.

She was in no position to fight when she felt Gerald roughly pushing the folds of her pussy to either side while probing around, obviously looking for something.

Then he found it. Her urethra. Joan felt pressure on the spot, then the completely foreign presence of something solid inserted into the tiny hole. Her urge to urinate was even stronger now that she could not naturally squeeze the passage shut, and she even experimented with pushing a bit to see if she could force it out, but the plug would not budge. If anything, the pushing had further increased her discomfort by causing a bit of soreness in her full bladder.

Not surprisingly, a rather large, well lubricated anal plug followed, shoved roughly into place as Joan yelped in pain. It had three ridges, and the area between the final, fattest ridge and the base of the plug was very thin, allowing Joan’s rectum to close nearly completely around it with the large obstruction inside of her, sealing her anus.

Although she hadn’t before, Joan now felt an intense urge to take a shit, likely due to the mass pushing on her from the inside. The plug, however, would not budge.

Mission accomplished, Gerald clicked off the lights, and settled into Joan’s comfortable bed with a contented sigh of one who has just completed a hard, but enjoyable day of work.

Just as Gerald was about to fall asleep, Joan thought of the one thing that she thought might, just might convince Gerald to release her and end this hell.

“I love you, Gerald,” she lied, in a completely desperate bid for his strongest emotions.

At first she thought he was wheezing in his sleep, but after a few moments it became clear that he was laughing.

“Shut up and go to sleep,” Gerald said, “and by the way, you are not the first woman in your position to tell me that.”

Joan decided that shutting up was probably a good idea. She was completely and totally stuck.

It was not long before Gerald began snoring. Joan spent the night pondering her situation as every time she would drift off to sleep, her weight would fall on the strap on her throat, choking her awake, and back into the nightmare.

Chapter 5

Gerald woke early the next morning. Glancing at the clock on Joan's nightstand, he noticed that it was only 8 AM, a full two hours before clients would start arriving. He was used to waking up early, though. Ever since he had begun doing this for a living, over five years prior, he woke full of energy, and generally a bit early. The whole gang rape and sex slave industry really seemed to agree with him.

He sat up, stretching and yawning, to look at his current asset. As was normal, Joan had somehow managed to fall asleep. Very few women made it the entire night, which was something that Gerald had always found interesting considering he didn't see how one could possibly sleep on all fours, filled with piss and shit. But they almost always did.

Joan had settled into a position that put her weight on the side of her neck, as opposed to directly on her windpipe. Gerald watched her sleep, wondering if she had consciously done this so that she could fall asleep, or if that's just the way she fell. It was hard to tell since every other part of her body was almost immobile.

No matter how many times he did this, and no matter how many women he saw in this exact same position, it always made him horny as hell.

Without getting out of bed, Gerald reached over and grabbed Joan's hair. She woke quickly as he began pulling her toward him and almost immediately began yelling.

“Ah, AGH, stop-stop-STOP-OW-OWWW!” she said. When she looked up at Gerald, however, her eyes wide and moist, she immediately went quiet. Gerald ignored her pleas entirely.

Once she was in place between Gerald's legs, he gave her the same speech that he gave every woman on the morning of their “general admission” day, as he called it.

“Here's how today is going to go. You're going to be leaned forward with your arms behind your back, attached to the ceiling, and a bunch of guys are going to line up, come in, and take you two at a time. They might take you in the ass, or the cunt, I don't know, and don't particularly care. That part is set in stone; my business relies on this day.

You do have a few choices, though. I can put the ring gag back in and they can just fuck your throat, or we can leave it out if you actually would rather give head. It'll be much easier on you if you actually give head since they won't start humping your face until they're almost ready to cum. Plus, I think it gives women something to concentrate on. The ones who don't end up gagged usually end up less...traumatized after this day, as far as I can tell.

You'll show me which you'd rather do by giving me head right now. If I feel so much as a scrape from a tooth, I will pull every fucking pearly white out of your head with my vice grips and shove them up your ass, do you understand me?”

The sudden shift from informing to threatening shocked Joan, and she immediately nodded yes, her eyes huge. She could give a good BJ. Anything to keep that damn ring gag out, and her teeth in.

“Two other things,” Gerald continued. “I'll let you piss and shit after you blow me, and then we'll need to clean your ass out. I would rather you do the enema yourself, since I find the whole process rather nasty, but I'll do it if I have to. It'll be a lot more comfortable if you do it yourself. Also, we need you dressed before the clients get here. I don't know why, but I find that they all enjoy seeing a woman dressed and all fucked up than completely nude. I think it lends a 'fresh catch' air to the whole thing. I'll let you pick the outfit unless you make me do it, which I hate. As far as I'm concerned, you can wear whatever the fuck you want. They'll strip you down plenty fast once they get to it. I'm talking shoes, jewelry, makeup, hose, everything. This just might be your last chance to wear any of your clothes, so make good use of it.”

The last part almost made Joan talk. She looked up at Gerald, but could see in his eyes that he fully expected her to respond, and was ready to administer a punishment. Her mouth shut with a click as one thought flashed like a bright neon sign in her mind. She was convinced that he was going to kill her after he was done with her.

Gerald watched Joan intently. This was a crossroads that all of his women came to. Some would begin to fight like a wild cat, screaming and yelling, while others would suddenly become very compliant, resigned to their fate. He was curious to see which way Joan would go. He'd judged her to be fairly intelligent, but easily defeated based on her actions so far. All signs pointed to her giving up entirely, which would make this day go far easier for both of them.

If she started fighting, he'd just drug her, but that would include a lot of dragging around and trying to dress her, give her an enema, and all of that extra work.

Luckily for both of them, Joan slumped in her bindings and started crying. She had decided that she was already dead. She looked up at Gerald piteously, hoping that he would change his mind, but that only made him that much more ready to put his dick in her mouth, which is exactly what he did.

Joan didn't like oral sex. However, being a sexually active woman in her thirties, she certainly knew how to give a blow-job. She opened her mouth as wide as she could while using her lips to provide suction on his cock.

She flitted her tongue along the slit, teasing the head and tasting his pre-cum until he started humping a bit. At first, he contained himself, but Joan used what little movement she had available to her to run her mouth up and down his shaft, stopping just shy of her gag reflex. When Gerald moved his left hand from atop her head to behind it, she knew he was taking over. Using his strong hand to grasp the back of her skull, he began fucking her face in earnest.

Gerald made no pretense at trying to delay the orgasm or make the experience last. He felt no need to savor the moment – he raped women all the time. By this point, Joan's head was just along for the ride. All she could do was try to keep a bit of suction with her lips and keep her tongue high enough that the bottom of his cock would slide over it on its way to her throat. She'd known that he was predictable from the night before, and silently congratulated herself for getting him off with very little drama, although he hadn't gotten nearly as involved when the other guys were around the day before.

When he came into her throat, completely bypassing her mouth, he spewed buckets of the stuff. It took all of Joan's concentration to not gag, and he held her there about ten seconds past when she began panicking due to lack of air. All she could really do, though, was try to pull her head away, which was completely unsuccessful.

Once he was done, he released her head, which flew backwards to the edge of its bonds as if it were spring loaded. Joan coughed and panted, blinking and shaking her head slightly, trying to clear the encroaching tunnel vision as Gerald laid back and closed his eyes, relaxing for a moment, listening to her sputtering. He'd felt a brushing of teeth twice, but it was while he was skull fucking her, so he really didn't care. He'd really only been threatening her anyway. Some of his clients would have probably taken exception to a toothless woman, and he wanted their money more than he wanted to punish the woman for an honest mistake.

After resting for a moment, Gerald sat back up, then knelt on the floor in front of Joan. He released the cuffs at her waist and neck, then her wrists, then her ankles.

Joan had fully expected to collapse once she was finally released, but the reality of the situation was that her limbs were extremely stiff from maintaining the same position for hours on end. Slowly, painfully, Joan pulled her right hand toward her chest, then replaced it on the ground.

Gerald watched. Yes, he could yell at, kick, or even shock her to make her move faster, but she'd just end up tearing a muscle or tendon. Far better to let her uncurl herself naturally, then push her along. He watched as she pulled her left hand toward her chest while squinting in pain. Her first instinct would be to try to stand, to make sure that she still could, and since he hadn't told her what he expected her to do besides go to the restroom at some point, he assumed, correctly, that she would act on that instinct.

Some women made another escape attempt at this point, the morning after. Gerald wasn't surprised that Joan didn't. She had stayed silent all night while he slept, and had actually been fairly obedient besides. She certainly wasn't broken, but she was currently feeling thoroughly defeated.

Slowly she stood, devoid of all bonds except the four clamps and the collar. As she reached her full height, and the muscles in her legs extended, she hissed through her teeth at the dull aches. The standing, she decided, was far worse than the kneeling all night had been.

Gerald stood and went to the chest of drawers across the room. Joan, unsure as to what she was supposed to do, hugged herself while avoiding her clamped nipples. From one of her drawers, Gerald retrieved a few pairs of panty hose.

“Open your mouth, this is temporary,” he said.

Jaw trembling, Joan opened her mouth.

Gerald shoved one entire pair of panty hose as deep into her mouth as he could, then one leg of the other. He then took the leg, wrapped it around the back of her head, and tucked it into itself back at her mouth, effectively forming an impromptu gag.

He had ball gags and such, of course, but using a woman's clothes against her is far more humiliating.

“Put your hands behind your back and hold them together, tightly,” Gerald said. “Trust me, you don't want to do anything you'll regret...”





Joan was confused, but only briefly. Gerald reached down and pulled the clip off her left cunt lip. Then the right. It was about the time that the right was fully off that the blood hit the left, powering the tortured nerves that were located there, causing Joan to scream bloody murder into her panty hose. Feeling from the other side followed shortly thereafter, turning her whole cunt into an epicenter of pain that radiated out into her stomach and legs.

Before she could comprehend the obvious next step, the clamp had been removed from her left nipple, then her right, as well. She expected the nipples to hurt less, but the fire from them was just as intense as that which came from between her legs.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, quietly making its presence known amongst the pain filled screams ricocheting about, something also let her know that she really, really needed to pee.

Gerald detached the clamps from the small plug that they inhabited on the collar, and pocketed them. He walked over to his bag of toys while Joan stood there huddling, shivering and choking on her own tears, and retrieved a tiny padlock as well as an enema kit.

He slipped the padlock through the little hole in the buckle on the shock collar and clicked it shut. The clamps were really just for fun, anyway. The collar alone was plenty powerful enough to knock her out if need be, but it didn't hurt nearly as much as the full body effect. The collar had been designed to be water resistant, but simple physics said that if he were to activate it while she was in the shower, the effects would be...interesting. He'd never been that brave, though. It wasn't that killing was unacceptable to him, but more that it would be an enormous waste of an investment, of both time and money, by this point.

He put the enema kit in her hands, then laid back on her bed. He lay on his belly, facing the master bathroom, his chin on his hands. Joan was, again, disturbed at how comfortable he was with this whole situation. It was almost as if they were teenage friends, and he was just hanging out in her bedroom with her. Except, of course, that she was naked, collared, a prisoner, full of urine and feces with both holes plugged, and was experiencing a fading, but still intense pain from all of her most private areas.

“Alright, you have an hour,” he told her after glancing at her clock. “In that time I expect you to have pissed, shit, used the enema, showered, dressed, and put on make-up. Remember, I want hose, shoes, jewelry, everything. Make yourself look really pretty and some of these guys might actually spare you.”

The last part was a blatant lie. The prettier the girl, the more harsh the treatment, always. Joan had no way of knowing that, though.

“Just pull the little strings to get the plugs out your ass and pee hole,” he continued, while gesturing at her nude body. “I want them both back, so be sure to keep hold of the string after you pull them, and do them one at a time. I suggest peeing first; it's easier and it'll release some of the pressure on your bowel.

There's instructions in the enema kit. If you won't do it, I will, but I'll just shove a garden hose up your ass and turn it on until your belly bulges, then sit you on the toilet to empty out. The enema is for your comfort, I suggest you figure out how to use it. I'll finger your asshole when you're done, and I better not see a trace of brown, do you understand? I suggest doing it yourself before you ever even come out, just to be sure.”

Joan nodded. She understood, and she'd used an enema before. It wasn't comfortable, but it was a far cry from the brutal sodomy of the day before.

“Leave the door open,” Gerald continued, “and don't worry about the collar, it's waterproof. I think.”

Joan's eyes widened, and Gerald grinned impishly.

“Go, get busy!” he yelled as he waved her toward the restroom.

So she went.

Chapter 6

Joan felt nauseous, bloated, and uncomfortable as she sat on the toilet, and was glad that she was going to be able to empty herself. Searching between her legs, she quickly found the string leading to her urethra that Gerald had mentioned, and pulled it abruptly as if it were a band-aid.

To her surprise, it didn't hurt, and after a very brief sputter, urine rushed out of her body like a slightly nasty waterfall. The woman sighed in relief as she leaned forward, her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands.

Joan noted that, for the first time in her life, she could actually sense the tiny hole from which the urine came. It wasn't a part of her body that she was intimately familiar with.

Once the stream of piss finally came to a halt, Joan briefly wondered if she even needed to shit at all. It seemed that the urine had been the majority of the pressure. She pushed, but her body didn't seem interested in producing.

Then she remembered that she was plugged there, too. After a brief moment of shame, she pulled the crap covered anal plug, threw it in her sink in disgust, and relieved herself.

“Clean that up before you come out, Joan,” said Gerald from her bedroom.

Joan jumped, causing the toilet to clatter, having been so caught up in her own thoughts that she'd forgotten she was being watched. It struck her as odd that one could forget that they were being watched while they used the restroom, but her entire life had definitely taken a turn for the weird since the day before.

Had it only been the day before? It seemed, to Joan, as if it had been weeks, maybe months of captivity.

She wiped herself while keeping her head turned to at least avoid making eye contact with her captor.

Then came the enema. Joan sighed as she opened the package and examined the contents. They were just as they had been last time she'd done this to herself. That time, though, it had been as an attempt to lose a few pounds quickly, not to prepare herself for a day of forced sodomy.

“It's only sex,” she told herself quietly, “nothing new. Nothing I can't handle.”

Twisting her body to insert the tube into her anus, Joan was painfully reminded that her rib was either fractured or broken. A quick glance down at the offending area revealed that nearly a quarter of her torso was yellow and black from bruising. She considered asking Gerald to spare her this day since she was already injured, but she had the feeling that this was all fairly mundane for him. Besides, he'd explained to her how important this day was to his business, and it was extremely obvious that Gerald's money was his first, second, and third priority. Her physical safety barely registered, and that only because it might affect his money in the long run.

The insertion of the tube was painful as her anus was swollen nearly shut, but she was already starting to heal from the abuse she'd taken the day before. Her flesh did not rip again. Joan was glad but, considering what she had to look forward to for the rest of the day, it felt rather shallow.

Following the directions listed, Joan placed the enema bag on her sink, where it was higher than her anus, and tried to relax. Unfortunately, the act of trying to relax had the exact opposite effect as it reminded the woman of the many reasons she should be tense.

As the fluid flowed slowly into her bowels, Joan had an uncomfortable moment to think. She didn't want to think, thinking was disturbing, but she didn't have much of a choice.

After today, which seemed years away, what would her fate be? Gerald kept mentioning things with a sort of finality, but he'd never said that he was going to kill her. Although that was her biggest fear at this point, and was a logical conclusion to come to considering all that he'd done to her, she couldn't help but think that Gerald had been remarkably straightforward besides. Naïve as it felt, she really believed that he would've told her by now if he'd planned to kill her.

Then again, he hadn't told her that he was going to let her live, either.

Joan took deep breaths, trying to relax her stomach muscles to prevent cramping, but the threat of death was a bit overpowering, and twice she had to pinch the tube with her fingers as pain shot through her body.

After the prescribed amount of time had passed, Joan pulled the hose, letting her bowels empty into the toilet. The feeling of release was somewhat relaxing. After flushing, wiping, and checking for any residual brown by sticking her middle finger as deep in as she could (and finding it absurd that she was somewhat proud that there was none), Joan cleaned the enema kit and the urethra and anal plugs in her sink, as well as her hands.

When she turned around and saw that Gerald was still watching, she blushed a bit while setting the enema and plugs just outside the restroom, as if to say “Here is your stuff, and yes, I know I'm not done.” As her breasts reacted to gravity when she leaned down, she had a brief spike of fear that they had “fallen out” before remembering that she was completely nude.

Maybe it was that Gerald wasn't leering or fondling, instead just watching, but Joan was continuously surprised at just how oddly normal all of this felt. Almost...appropriate. She even tried to be angry, but it seemed forced, so she remained contemplative instead.

When in the shower, Joan was out of Gerald's view, but she still felt his presence.

Had she actually wanted all of this to happen? What was she expecting when she invited him over? Why wasn't she angry, or desperate to escape? Was this what it was like to be broken?

Had she asked for all of this to happen to her?

Joan felt the collar as she washed her neck and stopped. Was she officially “collared”, like they talked about on the BDSM forums? Was Gerald her Master? That's what she'd hoped he would be, but things had been so...brutal. Then again, it's not like the slave is supposed to call the shots, right? Who was she to say what the experience should entail?

Joan was confused, but there was also a strange confidence building inside of her. Maybe it was a self defense mechanism, and she recognized the possibility, but she didn't care. She'd make the best of this situation and show her Master, show Gerald, what a good submissive she could be.

She'd already shaved the majority of her crotch before she realized what she was doing. After all, that's how most men liked their women.

----

Gerald snorted in derisive laughter as he watched Joan go from her bathroom to her walk-in closet. He'd seen that change in posture before, and knew exactly what it meant. Things were about to get really, really easy, right up until she found out that he had no intention of keeping her. He'd just have to make sure that, at that moment, she was completely powerless.

----

No matter how many times he watched this same scene, it amazed Gerald that the most reclusive of women had some sort of finery tucked away. Joan seemed to have a lot of it, though, and it took her a while to pick what she was going to wear. While some women looked like they were choosing the clothes to wear to their own funeral, Joan seemed rather upbeat. She probably would've been a bit less relaxed had she known what Gerald knew about her future, and that this would very likely be her last chance to both see and use not only her clothes, but any clothing at all.

The younger women tended to go for a more “cute” look, often with sweaters and knee length skirts. They tried to look innocent and fragile which, from their point of view, made perfect sense. Gerald, however, was perfectly aware that it was in the nature of his customers to violently break anything that appeared fragile, especially if that thing happened to be a woman.

Joan, being in her 30s, was about as old as he would hunt without some sort of special request, which he tried to avoid. He wasn't at all surprised when she came out of her closet looking as if she were about to go to a ball, or dinner at a very expensive restaurant. Being a man, though, and always appreciative of the female form, Gerald did still admire the scene.

She wore an ankle length sequined red dress. It was slimming on her already slender body, hugging her hips and thighs, which were her most attractive features. She wore a pushup bra underneath, making her A-cup breasts look to be much more than they were, though the neck line showed only modest cleavage. The dress was sleeveless, but she complimented it with white elbow gloves. Her shoes were strappy, white four inch heels slipped over nude hose. She looked the very epitome of class.

By the time she was done with her makeup, she looked like a movie star. Not for the first time, Gerald wished he had collars of different colors to match these great outfits that he always saw, but it never seemed important when he was actually in a position to pick some up. The black collar clashed a bit with the rest of the outfit but, at the same time, it also made her bondage that much more obvious. Not that it wouldn't soon enough be impossible to miss.

She had a slight smile on her lips, and she kept her eyes on the ground. Gerald was amused to see that yet another woman had slipped seamlessly into the submissive role, even after being thoroughly abused. It made sense, considering his typical hunting grounds, but he still didn't really understand it. He often felt that most feminists would immediately burn their slacks and loafers and start shaving their legs again if they'd seen a quarter of what he had seen. From Gerald's point of view, women weren't equal, it was just a little game the men played with them to minimize drama.

He'd always wondered if a woman who didn't label herself as a submissive would be as easy to conquer, but it seemed silly to go after the harder prey when there were so many does like Joan out there, just sipping at the watering hole and waiting for a predator such as him. In the time it took Gerald to plan, capture, and discard Joan, a half dozen other such submissives would've come into the light.

Gerald never felt like he had a dominating personality, really, but he knew he could never submit like he'd seen so many women do. Most were like Joan, who fought at least a little, but there were even some who, after realizing he was just in it for the money, still happily submitted. He just didn't get it, but he was happy to take full advantage.

He was reminded of the lyrics to an old song, one that laid well outside his typical listening choices, but still seemed humorously appropriate:

Don't try to understand 'em,
Just rope and throw and grab 'em...

The song talked about cattle, but sometimes the comparison didn't seem too far off, especially when they made things so easy.

As Joan stood waiting, staring at her toes, Gerald swung his legs around and got off of her bed. He then led her into her living room, which is where the main event of the day would take place.

-------

Apprehension was clear on her face as she sat stiffly on the edge of her own sofa as if she were a guest in this house. That Gerald came prepared for something as vile and terrible as he was about to subject her to was beyond her imagining.

Gerald, for his part, usually tried to make this part of the routine. He'd found that, even if he explained the situation, if they didn't actually watch him prepare for it, the women still seemed highly surprised by the act that was to follow.

She wasn't actually bound, but she was trapped nonetheless. With the touch of a button, he could send a nearly lethal (or lethal, if necessary) amount of electricity straight into her body through the collar. There was also the syringe in his pocket that contained enough sedative to down a bull in less than a minute, not to mention the fact that the only working door in her home was still locked with a key that only Gerald held.

No, there was no need to bind the woman. Besides, she would very likely always remember this moment as her last chance at escape, regardless of how futile it would've been. That she'd been completely unbound, yet had done nothing, would haunt her for the rest of her life, and those feelings of remorse and self pity were powerful demotivators that would help her future owner train or control her, whatever his plans were.

Three closed hooks, which were manufactured to be small trailer hitches, were installed in the ceiling and the floor. One in the ceiling, two in the floor, spread about five feet apart. Each hook was held in place by four bolts, each one six inches long and 12 mm in size, installed with a power drill, and then checked with a small torque wrench to be sure they hadn't stripped their mountings.

The hooks, individually, were strong enough to keep a large, loaded trailer attached to the frame of a truck. Three of them would certainly have no problem containing one small, scared woman, no matter how she thrashed about, and Gerald generally left little room for thrashing.

Before putting his ladder away, he threaded a thick rope through the hook in the ceiling. He ran the rope through one of the hooks in the floor, and knotted it to the other. He grabbed the other side of the rope, which was dangling from the hook in the ceiling, and pulled. Satisfied that there was no movement, he pushed the ladder of the way, fairly confident that he would no longer need it.

He then wrapped his right hand in the rope, grabbed it with his left, and jumped, pulling his legs up so that he hung in midair. Although not a huge man, Gerald still weighed well over two hundred pounds. As he swung on the rope, he did his best to bounce, doing everything he could to yank the hooks from their mountings. The hooks held firm.

The stage set, Gerald put his tools away and beckoned Joan toward him. There was no malice in his eyes. He may as well have been having her test a bench that he'd just finished assembling, as opposed to mounting her abused body for a day of repeated rape.

Somewhat to her own surprise, Joan stood and made her way to the center of her living room. A voice in the back of her head screamed at her to run, to hit him, to do anything to get away, but it was a distant voice that she had no real problem ignoring. It had been there since she first awoke in the cage only a day before, but it was much quieter now.

Gerald first had her spread her legs as far as she could between the hooks, while still standing. He attached her left ankle to the left hook, then her right ankle to the right hook, pulling it about an inch further than she had indicated she could balance. Joan flung her arms out, and Gerald, bent over in front of her, allowed her to use his back to balance for a moment. She was able to stand after only a few seconds, though it was obvious that she did not feel stable.

Another rope was run from ankle to ankle and pulled tight, drawing the ropes that went to the hooks taut, effectively fixing her ankles in place. She could probably lift her foot an inch or so off the ground, or maybe an inch back or forward, but she sensed that that would be a very dangerous thing to do since she wouldn't be able to counter-balance with her other foot, and her heels would definitely make things difficult. She wondered, for a moment, why she had chose to wear heels in the first place. It had seemed appropriate at the time.

“Hands,” Gerald said, from behind her.

She hesitated only for the barest of moments, proving that she was definitely not broken, just currently complacent. Once her hands were behind her, Gerald wrapped her wrists in the rope that dangled from the ceiling, being careful to cross the ropes so as to minimize circulation loss. Her future owner might have use for her hands to be still attached and functional.

“Lean as far forward as you can,” he told her.

He didn't used to do that. Up until recently, Gerald had delighted in yanking the rope, sending women yelping and diving forward headfirst as her arms were jerked straight up behind their back, only to be caught up painfully by their wrists. However, one of his previous victims had been a particularly short, large breasted young woman who had chosen to wear ridiculously high heels, and she had completely lost her balance, causing both shoulders to dislocate with a sickening thunk. Luckily for Gerald, a current doctor friend had taken the girl as payment for the house call, and had even given Gerald some pointers on setting the shoulder should it happen again in the future. Gerald had been irritated at the loss of profit and time, but he'd only had himself to blame. Being more forward thinker than field medic, he had taken to preventing such things from happening in the first place whenever possible.
When he pulled her arms above her body, he did elicit a slight squeak, and she was forced to balance by letting some of her weight pull on her shoulders, but it was nowhere near a large enough jolt to cause any real harm. Besides, as little as Joan weighed, she could probably be fully suspended by her wrists behind her back with little to no permanent damage, aside from intense pain.
After waiting for her to balance herself out, Gerald pulled her wrists a bit further up, garnering a slightly panicked sounding moan, then tied the loose end of the rope back to her wrists, leaving the rest dangling for the moment.

Another rope was attached to the ring on her collar, which rested just in front of her windpipe, then run around the rope going between her ankles. He then attached it back to the collar ring. Again, he caused her to overbalance and tip forward, but this time she was unable to right herself since her neck was held down. She was unable to fall on her face, though, since her arms were fully extended and secured.

Gerald then stood up behind her, put both hands on her ass, and shoved.

“Hey!” Joan yelled, “aah...aaaaaahhh....”.

She teetered a bit, but did not fall. There was a moment's disorientation as her body realized that she should've fallen, but her mind came to grips with the fact that she actually couldn't fall. With her body held rigid in its bow shape, she could only put pressure on different parts of her arms and shoulders by rocking back or forth.

She'd been bound for all of ten minutes, yet her lower back and shoulders were already aching, and her feet were pulsing from all of her weight resting on her inner arches, in heels.

With a thin piece of twine, Gerald put the finishing touches on the contraption that was currently Joan. Gathering as much of her short, dirty blond hair in his hand as he could, he wrapped it in a crude ponytail. Joan hissed through her teeth as he pulled her head back, attaching the other end of the twine to her wrists, effectively pinning her head in midair, and removing what little ability she had to adjust her position.

“You barely have enough hair for that,” he mentioned in an offhand manner. Joan wasn't sure if she wished that she had more hair so that it would be less painful, or that she was simply bald. If she were bald, though, Gerald would've just had to come up with another way to secure her head. As it was, Joan's scalp was pulled so tight that she was unable to fully close her watering eyes.

“Open your mouth,” Gerald said. She looked down at his hands, but he didn't hold the ring gag. Although she really didn't want him putting anything in her mouth, she parted her teeth and opened as wide as she could. It was a little late to be resistant, she felt.

A part of her was still trying to impress him, even as pain and muscle fatigue amplified the voice in her mind that was now screaming something along the lines of “I told you to run!”

Gerald took two small, hard objects, and pushed each one into the back corners of her mouth, where her rear most teeth resided.

“Bite down as hard as you can,” he told her. So she did. The objects between her teeth compressed at first, and she could feel her top teeth sinking into them. She bit until her head started to hurt, looking at Gerald, waiting for the signal to release.

“Okay,” he said, “now spit those out.”

She flicked her tongue over the one on the right, trying to push it forward, but it was stuck fast. She tried the other one, but it was also immovable. She tried the first one again as she looked at Gerald, afraid to say that she couldn't get them out, but then realized by the grin on his face that he already knew this. Her teeth had been propped apart by about an inch.

“Not that I expect that you'll try,” he said, “but I can't have you biting any dicks off. Those dicks keep my cash flow going. Those should keep you from closing your mouth all the way for the time being, but they'll dissolve just from drinking a can of soda. Pretty neat, huh?”

“Uh...” Joan responded, not sure what to say.

“Eh,” Gerald replied, waving his hand dismissively in her general direction as he walked toward her front door. He was used to his efforts not being appreciated by the merchandise.

Peeking out the door's eye hole, he confirmed that none of his clients had yet arrived, though he would've been surprised if they had. He'd noticed that his “general admission” clients tended to try not to be the first to arrive. This was about as effective as two idiots trying to cheat off of each other on a test. Of course, someone had to be first, but they all seemed to think that it was somehow safer to show up in the middle instead of the beginning.

After about ten or fifteen minutes of highly conspicuous circling, though, someone's dick would always get the best of them, and they'd pull in and take their chances.

Things always went much faster when one of Gerald's clients who worked for the police of that particular city attended, since they weren't at all afraid of getting caught. Of course, there was the one exception where a client on the force showed up in a squad car, and no one else did until Gerald convinced him to at least put the car behind the house. From then on, he'd made sure to remind them to arrive in a personal vehicle.

Since there was no one arriving as of yet, Gerald pulled his digital camera out of its bag that was laying on Joan's dining room table, and began snapping pictures.

Her hands were already turning light purple, and the otherwise conservative dress had a long slit that showed, quite clearly, that Joan wore full panty hose. Her makeup was already beginning to run under her eyes as the tears gathered, then spilled down her cheeks.

Gerald wasn't sure if they were tears of shame, or just her eyes watering from her hair being pulled so tightly. Not that it mattered. Photos of bound women in tears fetched a premium on the web.

Joan grunted, groaned, and her face turned as red as her dress, but she remained silent. She averted her eyes from the camera as best she could since she couldn't move her head.

After nearly a hundred pictures were taken, and almost twenty minutes after the event was scheduled to begin, Gerald heard a knock at the door. Someone had finally gotten brave.