Read Puppet On A String Online
Authors: Lizbeth Dusseau
Puppet On A String (4 page)
Col. Jessup moved around to her back side and began again, delivering the blows with skill that comes from plenty of practice. As he worked, his body felt a cruel satisfaction from the activity; the longer he laid on the hefty sentence, the more he relished the feelings generated by each measured strike.
The forty lashes dug in deeper. For a long while Jessup refused to change his aim, but then once her back was scorched with rising welts, he gave her some reprieve, dropping his aim to her thighs and calves until those places suffered as painfully.
“Oh, God, no! No! No!” she repeated again and again, her vicious cry rising up to fill the cell with sound.
She thrashed in angry rebuke, twisting and turning so violently that the lashing clipped her sides, even her belly when she turned nearly 180 degrees.
Jessup was right on that. “Enough!” He moved forward and stilled her with his hand.
Then moving to the winch that worked the pulleys, he raised
Her body heat rose with his awesome display of savagery.
“This will kill me!” she shouted.
“Oh, I doubt that.” He remained amused by her anguish.
Another twenty lashes came down against her back, then he moved to her front side and stared into her frightened eyes.
“Hurts, doesn’t it?”
“Please, have some mercy.”
“Mercy,” he chortled. “You expect me to be merciful. I’ve told you who I am, don’t doubt that, Ms. Ryan.”
Facing her with brutal determination, he picked up another, shorter strap and began to whip the tender skin of her thrust-out breasts.
“Yeeeeeeeeawwwwwwwww! Nonono!” Unable to control her physical response, she jerked erratically despite his warning, while her screams bounced off the walls, reverberating through the entire prison.
Lowering his aim to her belly and thighs produced the same anguished response from his helpless victim.
When finally the whipping stopped, Jessup moved to the side of the room and lowered her feet back to the ground. But he was on her again seconds later, snapping two clamps on her reddened nipples. From the clamps he dangled heavy weights. He then picked up a Billy club and began to work the head of it at the opening of her pussy.
“Well, I see you’re not dry,” he sneered.
He pushed a little and the head of the club moved inside the slickened space of her vagina.
“You’re making this too easy,” he taunted. “Maybe you like this too much. Is that is, Ms. Ryan?”
“No, you’re wrong.”
“Really?” He observed her with a careful eye. “What I think is that you are a real masochist. Could that be true?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t take me for a fool.” He jerked down on the nipple clamps to hear a genuine whimper, then a frightful shriek when she felt a whip slash against her back. Grueter had returned to the cell. “Maybe the bullwhip will make you talk,” Jessup proposed.
“No!” she shrieked again.
Using the Billy club to fuck her cunt, Jessup quickly tore away her fear and forced her down a road of masochistic gratification. Her twisted mind worked against her. She wanted to scream to make him stop, to make Grueter end the painful whipping, but the strange pleasure centering in her love hole turned any screaming into condemning moans. Her chest heaved with lust, as did her entire turned-on crotch.
“We got a real live one here, boys.”
Boys?
“She needs some softening up, and don’t hold back,” Jessup said.
Twisting in frightened anguish, she saw the Colonel stroll away, leaving her to a cell full of horny men.
Within seconds,
real
screaming with her mouth fully engaged; a cock driven deep into her throat despite her need to gag. While forced to take the meaty erection in her mouth, at her crotch, the thick penis banged inside her pussy, sending her lower body into frenzied sexual spasms.
After one man jetted his seed into her mouth, another man took his place. When one was finished with her pussy, there was another erection for her to satisfy with her cunt. The fucking went on until at least six men had used either her cunt or mouth and she was left dripping at both ends.
Her dangling body was then hoisted high, a ballgag shoved between her lips, then a thick dildo thrust inside her pussy. To finish her off, another dildo was minimally greased and shoved inside her ass – strangely her ass had seen no action yet that night, which made the initial shove a shocking strain.
“Awwwwwwaaaaaaaaaar!” She vented around the nasty gag. Attempts to fight off the anal invader were ill-conceived; they only made the burden of the dildo more difficult to withstand. While she suffered, her rapists let her wage her war against the impalement, until her body finally adjusted and she accepted the ugly prick inside her ass.
“Give you hell, Jessup says,” some surly bastard spoke tersely in her ear, his hot breath smelling of tobacco, his body of sweat. “Jessup never lies. He will hurt you til you talk. You better think about that.”
Hell meant sharp and painful bursts of electricity zapping her in the crotch and ass. They started slowly, just sensuous teasing, then built up fast, until she felt nothing but the jarring pain. Her spine arched with the worst of the zapping jolt, muscles straining, her mouth drooling around the gag. The treatment was repeated a dozen times until she nearly passed out.
“Lick ‘em,” he said, shoving the toe of one boot against her mouth. Thoughtless and spent, she didn’t bother to think about the order or the consequences of not obeying. She opened her mouth, and reaching out with her tongue, lapped the leathery cowhide like a slave. Drinking in the smells of the man above her, her body reacted with shameless arousal.
No! No! This was wrong! This should not be happening!
But to control her emotions or her physical response felt much like grasping for an outstretched hand, only to have those rescuing fingers slip away.
Finally Jessup stood back, peering down at her.
“Initiation’s over, Shelby Ryan,” he said
Then he dropped a blanket over her body and left the cell.
She was left to her fears, and when not her fears, her memories that came flooding back to her, times she would just have soon forgotten, times these current circumstances made it easy for her to recall…
***
“Ms. Ryan.” The voice was crisp and efficient. She responded to it with unthinking obedience. This was what Mr. Darcy demanded, so this was what she wanted to do in order to impress him. “The report ready?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” and she moved back to her desk in the outer office to retrieve the report in question.
Before she could return, his private line rang, and while he spoke to someone named Bailey on the phone, she re-entered his office and laid the file on his desk. Assuming that he would want to be alone during the call, she quietly began her retreat.
“Ms. Ryan,” Mr. Darcy raised his voice this time, the chill of its unique vibration sending a spine-tingling sensation down her back. She turned around, waiting as he finished his conversation.
“Here, please,” he said once he laid the phone receiver on the cradle. For two weeks, she had suffered through the crackling commands and the hard formality of her employer’s autocratic style. At night she suffered from terrible attacks on her imagination, hot sweats and painful cravings she did not understand. She was by then understandably tired and feeling weak; sometimes wondering if she might just wilt in his presence.
She stood in front of his desk, forced to confront his imperious stare, oddly feeling as if he were taking off her clothes in his mind. This careful kind of scrutiny had occurred nearly every day, until he finally dismissed her to resume her work. This time, however, he stood up and moved out from behind his desk until he was standing behind her.
“Don’t move,” he said, when she started to turn around. He was very close, closer than he’d ever been, his hand coming to rest on her ass and squeezing the soft globe of malleable flesh.
Her body quickened instantly.
What was this about?
Her mind searched for answers, and though she had every right to object to the inappropriate act, she couldn’t bring herself to speak.
“This is what you have wanted, isn’t it Ms. Ryan?” he spoke softly at her ear. “Even though I’m not your handsome prince, I am the man you’ve been madly inflamed about for the last two weeks.” Already her lips were parted and she was panting softly under her breath. Her chest was heaving slightly, while all her mental attention was settled on the hand that slowly worked its way under her skirt until it rested against her bottom, just her panties between his palm and her skin. Suddenly, he flung the hem of her skirt up off her bottom and started to smack her ass, not once, but two, three, four times. “For all the little transgressions, there’s nothing like a good spanking to settle the score.” She felt light-headed and about to faint, as his hand continued with the firm slaps heating her skin to a feverish degree. When he stopped, the spanking apparently done, his index finger fished its way under the edge of her panty, then into the crack between her thighs, swimming downward toward her sex. He reached the sensitive bud of her clitoris and began to rub with a finesse that made her breathing deepen even further.
She quietly mouthed, “Oh, dear god,” when a savage spasm made her entire body shudder with pleasure. Before she could return to her senses, she felt Darcy’s hips move in against hers, then he thrust her over the edge of his desk, pushed away her panties, and pressed the head of his penis against her vaginal opening. The forward thrust tore open the barrier to her inner sanctum, one bright burst of pain producing a whimpering gasp.
The pain lasted only briefly; while the hard pulsing of the man’s organ produced an erotic burst of pleasure throughout her entire body. He moved inside her for maybe five minutes, banging her so hard that she had to grab the far side of the desk to steady herself. Then his body suddenly froze tightly against hers for a moment, while the organ in her erupted in strong ejaculations. Finally, he resumed the savage lunging until his cock was spent.
When he pulled out,
“I think it’s fair to assume, Ms. Ryan, that you’ll be servicing me in this way, just as you serve my business interests. You can go clean up now.” He’d used her so intimately and still he spoke so coldly.
When she didn’t respond to the terse command, Mr. Darcy gently pulled her upright.
“You’ll be just fine,” he said. A trace of a smile on his lips left her with an odd and unexpected feeling of longing.
“Yes, sir,” she bowed her head, blushing with shame.
“Now, go on, you have work to do, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
Her panties were wet and his juices dripping down her thighs, as she rushed from the room. She was almost frantic as she sought out the ladies room and cleaned herself.
Later, after she had recovered some, she was brave enough to knock on Mr. Darcy’s office door – something she never did unless she had been summoned. He probably did not expect her to knock now. Maybe he would be angry, she worried. But instead, he called out with a simple, “Come in.”