Fourteen hours and still she teeters on the edge of insanity. Echoes of the screams ricocheting inside her mind, his deep sexy voice foretelling of the painful journey she must embark upon, and the crack of the whip accentuating his every word, has left her intoxicated, lost in a maelstrom of lust. A yearning for her new life to begin takes root deep in her psyche.
She imagines the bite of leather and visualizes the reverberation of flesh as her body absorbs the impact, sending waves of pain throughout her loins. She wants to cry out for him to stop as he whips her into a sexual frenzy, yet she wants him to use her, degrade her, humiliate her, and ultimately, fuck every orifice filling her with his life-sustaining seed. But he holds back; never allowing her an orgasm, always keeping her on the slippery slope of need and desperation.
He has so much work to do on her before she is ready to be taken to the next location. Breaking from his thoughts, he prepares for the next step.
Silently, he creeps into the bedroom and watches as she sleeps. Lightly snoring with the nose plug forcing her to breathe through her mouth, her head is turned to the side with her golden hair fanned out forming an angel’s halo on the pillow. His cock stiffens and begins to twitch in anticipation.
Twenty-three hours. She is closer to the mentally diminished state where he needs her to be; a state of mind where she has no thoughts or decision-making abilities and will eagerly rely solely on him to instruct her. There should not be any further resistance, her prior faculties replaced by an automatic response of absolute compliance and obedience.
Usually hard and thick like an eraser on the tip of a pencil, her nipples are instead compressed into her engorged breasts. Carefully, he attaches milking cups, verifies that her nipples are centered in each tube, and engages the pumps. Her chest cavity lurches, startled by the powerful suction that draws her nipples deeper into the clear tubes. He adjusts the speed to the fast setting and the suction force to strong for more immediate results.
Loud whimpers escape from her throat and it is difficult to say if they are pleasure or pain-fueled moans. Regardless, thick white cunt juice begins to form and collect at her opening.
Releasing her ankles one by one, he bends her legs up and over her head then connects the restraint to the headboard. Oh yes, finally, an unobstructed view of her secret womanly areas. Even though she trims very close, he wants bald. He loves the feeling of flesh-to-flesh contact when he finally chooses to fuck her and hates a mouthful of cunt hairs when licking and sucking between her legs. More than anything, though, when he whips her clit, he wants to see the crimson red of her cunt lips and her small penis-sized clit painfully protruding.
Warming a wet hand cloth in the microwave, he covers her cunt area pressing the cloth into her skin to wet the shaving area. Using an antique Badger brush, he works up a thick lather with the specialty soap he purchased just for this occasion.
Shaving is no longer the luxurious experience it used to be. His Badger Brush is a reminder of just how opulent a good shave can be, rewarding, relaxing, and rejuvenating. Its trademark bristles are made of pure Badger hair and creates a rich lather that softens stubble, opens pores, and gently exfoliates. All those benefits lead to a closer groin shave without red bumps and often create a near-orgasmic experience as well, unlike a manual shaving-cream hand-smeared application.
Starting at the top of her pubic hair line just under the belly button, he moves the lather-soaked brush in tiny circles, periodically re-coating the brush with more lather. Tiny circles he makes with the Badger brush, weaving back and forth, section by section, around and around in circles on her belly. The brush then eases slowly to the left side of her cunt lips and slides a little ways down the inside of her thigh.
Always, small gentle tickling circles that lightly caress her skin yet coats her flesh with a thick layer of the fragrant lather. Continuing its expedition, the Badger bristles slip lower and leave a thick trail of lather to her anus, and then begins the slow climb upwards on the right cunt lip and finishes at her bikini line.
The straight razor, also known as the “cut-throat” razor, has been sterilized for about 20 minutes and is ready. Pulling her skin taunt, he lays the sharp edge against her belly flesh and with the precision of a surgeon, removes the hair from her sex.
Her body is so tightly restrained that she cannot move, and that is a good thing with him between her legs using an ice cold straight razor blade to shave her unwanted pubic hair. However, nothing can stop the constant production of cunt juices as they ooze between her crack and cut a small trail in the thick white foam.
Once again, a hot moist hand towel to clean the residual shaving foam from her nether region and moisten her pores to prevent the ugly red bumps from forming. A deep sigh shudders through her body although it is unsure if it is because he is finished or because of the soothing effect of the towel pressed into her sex.
A sight too tempting to simply admire, he lowers his mouth and gently laps at her clit. He circles the tip with his tongue, around and around he goes. So exciting is the sensation that she moans, not a throaty sound, but the low guttural sound of an animal being sexually stimulated.
His tongue slides up and down the outside of her cunt lips, so close to her opening yet still too far away for her needs. Her mouth forms an oval as she gives in to the rising passion that claws at her womanhood. Molten bliss lies just inside her canal if only he would touch her there, move his tongue there, her pleasure lies a measly few millimeters away.
Unable to move, unable to smash his face into her cunt, the coals inside her belly burn out of control, flames of unrequited passion lap at the entrance to her sex, yet he torments her and denies her this one kindness.
The promise of ecstasy churns through her body like a white-water rapid as his tongue continues its expedition along the curves and valleys of her sex. Every path his tongue travels leaves of trail of pure bliss as she hovers at the precipice of a life-changing orgasm. And as she approaches the chasm and is ready to make the leap to orgasmic heaven, he stops completely or bites at her clit, startling her with pain and interrupting her pleasure.
The sparkle drains from her face, replaced by a deep-seated hunger. Her sensuous, deep red lips part in an almost pornographic pout. Constant stimulation and denial does that to women.
“Please. Just one. Let me have just one orgasm. Please.” she cries out, her focus once again singular and desperate. That constant throbbing of her sex must be satiated.
Rising, he checks her breast pumps and decides her nipples are not quite large enough and leaves her alone, trussed up with her cunt exposed and spread wide.
After what seemed like hours later, she is on the cusp of defeat, overcome by the enormity of the desire raging between her thighs. Unable to maintain her silence any longer, her frustration boils out of control. A pitiful mantra spouts from her core, dripping with distain because he has yet to touch her in any meaningful sexual way. Hopelessness lurks just below the surface even as the insanity of her situation closes in on her.
“Please fuck me. PLEASE just get it over with. What do you want from me? Want me to suck your cock you bastard? P L E A S E. J U S T F U C K M E!”
Quietly, he smiles. She is close, almost completely dependent upon him. Her psychological need for sexual release is so deeply seated that it supersedes her body’s need for even the basics of life such as food and water.
Her quivering body has been reduced to a violent shaking contained only by the restraints. She is completely at his mercy such is the control that he has systematically taken from her.
“Fuck me you bastard. P L E A S E F U C K M E!”
Her sex throbs and vibrates and all sensations center in the tip of her clit where a “Mammoth Pounding Pulse” threatens to explode if not soon allowed release. Having removed her blindfold after 30 plus hours, her eyes are wild, manic, her face twisted in a knot of sheer anguish. Her fingers clench and stretch as she struggles to cope with this unbearable hell he has forced her into.
Another hour he thinks. Yes, another hour or two and he will finish preparing her. He wants everything to be perfect when he decides to finally violate her, using every orifice to consummate his ownership of her. And he will do so with astounding violence, rutting deep in each cavity, occupying every space all the while, tunneling deeper inside her body; far deeper and intensely more painfully invasive than any prior lover has ever traveled.
“Please let me suck your cock you bastard. P L E A S E. I N E E D T O B E F U C K E D! What do you want from me? Just fucking tell me and I will do it.”
The noises coming from the bedroom are not really human at all, more subhuman, a woman at the apex of sexual stimulation but lost in the darkness of denial and resulting futility. Pitiful sounds drift from the room, her body drenched with sweat, and her face so distorted that she is barely recognizable as the confident, intelligent woman who opened her hotel door to him some thirty plus hours ago.
Sobs, deep soulful sobs rack her body and summarize her emotional state: agitation, sexual frustration, and abject misery. And shame. Yes, she feels shame believing that she has done something to displease him and deserves this suffering.
A vicious cycle of need, exhaustion, frustration, doubt, all merge and collectively, drain the final remnants of her former vanilla life, stripping her of any semblance of identity. Exhaustion finally provides a respite from her torment as she slips into a dreamless sleep.
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