The Beach House Escapades Ch. 03 by tribalsurf

The Beach House Escapades Ch. 03 by tribalsurf

Dive into the tantalizing world of “The Beach House Escapades Ch. 03” by tribalsurf, where passion ignites against the backdrop of sun-soaked sands and hidden desires. Join the characters on their thrilling adventures and indulge in steamy encounters that will leave you breathless. Perfect for those seeking a seductive getaway—read on and let the escapades begin!

I awaken before Vika once again, untangling myself from the girl’s limbs carefully so as not to disturb her. I get up and pad out to the living room where I check the camera and batteries mounted on the tripod.

For now I merely want to see the quality of the video and to note what changes in lighting or camera angle would be beneficial when filming Vika’s next session. With the sound off I watch as Vika performs her schoolgirl routine, congratulating myself once again on how easy it had been to convince her to allow me to film her sexual awakening.

I retrieve the camera and move it to one of the back bedrooms of my beachside mansion, this one now specially equipped with extra soundproofing and a series of props added to create a sadist’s dungeon.

In the room blackened with scrim cloth there are wall shackles, ropes, whips, nipple and pussy clips, ball gags, and other items associated with dungeons and torture.

Once the camera is set up and rolling I put on my black hood with holes cut for eyes, nose and mouth, and over that a lightweight movie camera similar to those used by recon soldiers complete with a drop down viewfinder and tiny remote control that I could attach anywhere on my body using a lightweight adhesive. My costume also includes a heavy black robe and black boots. Next I apply several water based decal-style tattoos to my arms and chest, and create a wicked, ragged scar on my chest that looks realistic enough to alter my appearance. I check myself in the dungeon’s mirror and then sneak back into my bedroom where Vika still lies sleeping.

This episode has not been rehearsed by us in advance, my intention to make this as realistic as possible. Raw emotions are crucial to this version’s “authenticity”.

Turning on my head cam I enter the darkened bedroom, switching on the LED lights on attached to the straps on either side of my head. These powerful little lamps illuminate whatever I’m looking at in blinding white light.

In the viewfinder my hand reaches out and yanks the down the covers on my bed and then roughly throws Vika onto her back. She awakens with a startled scream, her eyes opening wide in terror but blinded by the LEDs. One of my hands clutches her throat while the other runs up and down her body, plucking nipples and pinching her pussy lips. My head follows my hand, the camera recording it all.

“Derek?” she cries in fear.

“Hah!” I laugh, disguising my voice. “He’s dead, you little whore!”

I order her to sit up, giving her a slap across her face to urger her to my wish. Quick as a flash I have her blindfolded, bound and gagged, her wrists tied behind her back.

Ripping off my camera and hood I don a pair of shorts and a T shirt. I snatch her up from the bed and sling her over my shoulder. I trundle her out the bedroom and through the kitchen, outside into the startlingly hot day. I circle my car with her over my shoulder to make her think I ‘ve walked farther, knowing that I’m screened from view by the privacy hedges surrounding my house. I open the trunk of my A6 and set her down on her side.

“Make a sound and you’ll be as dead as your boyfriend,” I threaten in my disguised voice. “He’s back there lying naked in a pool of his own blood. I’ve saved some in a cup for you to drink later on when I get you to rape town,” I laugh harshly. “I watched everything he did to you. I heard you beg him to fuck you. You’ll be begging for me, too, bitch!”

Vika begins trembling uncontrollably. I get in and start the car, pulling out onto A1A. I drive one direction for a few minutes and then turned into a neighborhood, turning left and right in a haphazard way to confuse Vika, then return to A1A and back home.

Having previously set the zone control central air conditioning system for maximum cool when we get there it’s well below 65 degrees, 30 below the human body’s normal core temperature of 98.6. With her still trussed and blindfolded I carry her through the house and down the hall to the room I’ve set up as my dungeon.

Vika is struggling, and when I set her down on her feet she makes a move to evade me. I catch her pin her to the wall, using my body mass as I quickly cuff her hands into the restraints. She’s crying, and she makes an attempt to kick me. I catch her foot and pull it down, latching it in to a restraint there. Then I do the same to her other foot.

I back away, not saying a word, allowing the camera a full shot of her lithe and underdeveloped young body against the black backdrop. Her hair is a mess and her makeup is smeared, making her nakedness all the more dramatic.

I turn on the sound system and Death Metal music blares from the speakers, effectively drowning out any but the loudest cries. It is horrid music, but suits the mood I’m trying to establish and has the proper effect on little Vika, who tenses and writhes as the discordant notes and pounding cadence fills her head.

I get back into my costume, adding more black makeup around my eyes. I approach her again after switching on some overhead lamps which suffuse the room in an eerie yellow glow. I’ve turned off the LED lamps on my hoodie cam. I walk up, knowing she can’t hear me and blow lightly on first one side of her face and then the other. Her head whips from side to side.

I snatch off her blindfold, allowing her to see me for the first time. Her breath sucks inward in a frightened gasp; the hood, the robe and tattoos convincing her that I am not me, but a stranger who has somehow invaded her world and kidnapped her. She stares in horror at a crude wood sign with the words Rape Town scrawled in blood red paint upon it. I hold a straw to her mouth which leads to a beaker of liquid in my outstretched hand.

“Drink!” I command over the music, holding a steel cup to her lips.

Vika searches my face, or rather my mask, for any sign of recognition. I’ve even gone so far as to put in contact lenses which have altered my eye color to dark brown from their normal glacier blue. When she doesn’t drink quickly enough to suit me I reach out and grab her throat again. It’s then she notices the tattoos and becomes convinced that someone else besides me is standing before her. She begins to pee in fright, and I back up and catch some of the urine in the cup. I wait for her to finish, the urine pooling beneath her in a puddle. I pretend to drink a gulp, smacking my lips in delight.

The liquid in the cup, besides the trace of Vika piss, is a combination of mescaline, PCP and DMT. Two of these are psychedelic compounds, one very fast acting and short in duration while the mescaline takes longer to begin its effects which last for several hours. The PCP is an animal tranquilizer, portioned to such a minute quantity in the drink I’ve administered to Vika that she will only feel an out of body dopiness, enhanced of course by the hallucinogenic attributes of the DMT and mesc. The DMT will hit her first; suddenly and without warning, the MAO inhibitor I’ve added allowing it to become active through oral ingestion.

I wait for a long minute, turning my back to Vika while knowing my other cameras are busy recording the scene from their wall mounts. I slowly turn around, letting her see what I’m holding in my hand.

It’s a huge dildo, shaped like a severed arm, the head a balled fist. When she sees it her knees sag and she hangs by her wrists, her mouth agape and her eyes showing indescribable terror. I put it back on the table and pick up another device, this one a long, curved surgical blade that shines ominously in the reflected light. I rake it through the air in quick successive slashes and she goes wild, a keening wail issuing from deep inside her and rising above the grinding obscenity of the music.

I return this to the table and turn back toward her, in my hand a ball gag. I walk over and roughly strap it to her head, then pinch her nipples until they are hard. I can tell the DMT is affecting her, for her breathing is rapid and her eyes are twitching and blinking. I reach over and kill the music, the room going silent so quickly that it is shocking to both of us. God, I hate that shit.

I pull the blindfold down over her eyes and leave her there in the frigid room while the DMT plays with her mind. I turn the stereo back on, this time with a tape of people whispering and odd sounds like metal scraping and shit like that. It’s spooky as hell when you’re straight, so I know it’s going to fuck with her head while she’s tripping.

I know she is in another world when after removing the gag from her mouth she begins singing nursery rhymes in a strange, hollow voice. She’s no longer shivering from the cold, a typical response to a potent hallucinogen, where body stimulae are over-ridden by the kaiedescopic visions going on within the mind. I turn off the air conditioner and begin letting the room warm up. It shouldn’t take too long; it’s hotter than hell outside today.

I click on the neon sign attached to the wall across from her. It blinks on and off, on and off. It reads, “NO HOPE”. I remove the blindfold and she stares at the sign, hypnotized by the strobing message. I place wood clothespins on her nipples, and another on the outer lips of each labia, dragging them downward with their weight.

She begins to whine until I show her a different ball gag, this one with spikes protruding from it. Her eyes widen and she collapses against the restraints again.

I put the gag down on the work bench. I slip the blindfold back over her eyes, then turn off the sign. I remove the restraints from her arms and legs, then pick her up and carry her to a narrow horizontal bench about four feet off the floor and built upon a sturdy base.