She’s tripping heavily on the hallucinogenic soup I’ve given her, mumbling incoherently and docile as a little lamb. I lay her down on the bench and begin tying her with thick hemp rope, crossing her torso so that she’s trussed in a way which leaves her nipples exposed, her arms behind her back and her legs pulled apart with a spacer dowel of shiny black plastic between her knees.
I take the clothespins from her nipples and pussy lips and again remove the blindfold.
I want her to suck my dick, but I’m afraid she’ll recognize it and realize who I am. I stroke her pussy until she begins to moan, her body betraying her mind at my stimulation. I take a small vibrator off the bench and begin working it across her cunt lips and around her clit, using my fingers to open her.
She tries to resist what her body is experiencing, her mind stretched as tight as the ropes which bind her. She comes close to an orgasm but I don’t let her reach a climax. I take her back and forth several times like this, and I can see that each time it frustrates her further. Her pussy is opening and closing like a little clam whenever she gets close to coming, the pink lips clenching and releasing without conscious volition.
I know the mescaline is a powerful sexual inebriant at the dosage I’ve given her, and that her desire to climax is almost unbearable for her. After an hour of this torment I allow her to have her orgasm, and when she does it’s so powerful that it reminds me of a dog shaking the water from its coat. The quivers turn to trembles which in turn give way to spasms which wrack her body from head to toe. I suck and nibble her nipples as she climaxes, her flat chest so arousing to me that I hope she never develops any further.
After she’s come I flip her onto her belly, knowing it’s got to be uncomfortable for her the way she’s bound by the chafing ropes. Ask me if I give a fuck. Now she’s facing the floor and can’t see me or my cock, which is hard as a fucking steel rail, as it has been since I first brought her into my dungeon.
I roughly open her snatch with my fingers, and then spit onto her twat to lube it up, although she’s still pretty wet from her orgasm. I drive my dick into her and piston her ferociously. She’s my fuck toy now, and while she’s under the effect of the hallucinogens I know her body will respond no matter where her mind takes her.
I grab her under her hips and lift her so her little ass is poking up at me as I continue to pound her snatch. I slow and enjoy seeing how stretched her cunt is around my big cock, and gaze lustfully at how her lips elongate as I pull back. In and out I go, playing with her butthole and spanking her ass once in awhile.
The girl loves to fuck and even though she’s been drugged and traumatized, she begins pushing against my thrusts, her back arched and her head pulled painfully upward by the handful of blonde hair I’m yanking. I pull out and shoot my wad across her ass, one pulse of spunk landing in the middle of her back. She comes at the same instant, her moans laden with despair as her mind trys to come to terms with what’s happening to her.
I leave her tied and face down and bring her another glass of clear liquid to drink. I push the straw into her mouth and pull her head back with another handful of hair.
“Drink or die!” I snarl, knowing she’s still tripping her ass off. She searches my face, seeing only the hideous mask and hood, trying to determine whether there’s any humanity to be found. She sips tentatively until I pull from a pocket a straight razor. I snarl again for her to comply, raising my hand threateningly. Vika drains the glass and I release her hair. She slumps back down, crying.
This drink contains a sedative that will knock her out for an hour or so, mixed with some vitamin B12, which will help restore her nervous system and bring her down from the mescaline. Before it takes effect I flip her over onto her back and rub the huge dildo arm all over her, making her cringe when I come close to her pussy with it.
I pretend I’m going to open her and try to fit it inside her, going as far as squirting baby oil all over it, causing it to glisten in the weird lighting of the room. I turn on some red spot lights which beam straight down on Vika, and flick the switch to the neon “No Hope” strobe.
Her eyes slowly close and soon she’s asleep. I gently slap her face a couple of times to make sure she’s completely out. I pull on one of her pussy lips and tweak her nipple, too. She’s out like a light.
I untie her and carry her into a bathroom. I give her a sponge bath and check her carefully for any chafe marks from the ropes and hand prints or bruises from my games with her. There’s not a mark on her thankfully. I brush her hair, careful to get it parted right down the center the way she normally wears it.
I take a dab of toothpaste and smear it on her teeth and put a bit on her tongue. She swallows reflexively, carrying the mint throughout her mouth, masking the residual taste of the drugs I’ve given her. I carry her to my bed and stretch her out on it, covering her with the sheet and light blanket.
I race back to the dungeon, stripping off my robe and hood. I pull the black drapes off the walls, letting the sunlight pour in. The red bulbs are changed back to regular spots and the neon sign comes down. I remove the upright wood frame with the restraints and the torture bench, fitting them up into the attic with all the other paraphenalia from the room. In less than fifteen minutes it looks just like a regular unused bedroom once again, with no trace of the horrors to be seen.
I hop in the shower and take a long, hot soak, careful to remove the actor’s black around my eyes, the contact lenses and the phony tattoos. When I’m done I dry my hair and put on some shorts and a T shirt. I make a couple of fruit smoothies and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for when Vika wakes up. It should be any time now, my formula being precisely measured for a girl her size.
I sit at my computer and check out the video of our S&M session. It’s turned out great. My camera placements had proven to be spot on to capture the various expressions of fear and desperation on her beautiful face, despite the variances in lighting I had used. Using a split screen while I worked I was able to keep an eye on Vika through the camera mounted on the ceiling fan right over the bed.
She bolts upright shrieking for help, then looks around with a freaked out expression. The poor thing is trying to make sense of how she ended up back in my bed, the drugs I had given her scrambling the signals so completely that I feel confident I can convince her that she’s experienced a terrible nightmare. I close the video and open a document file to replace it.
I turn at her scream and jump over to the bed to console her. Her eyes are as big as saucers and she’s trembling like a leaf.
“What’s wrong, honey?” I say, feigning surprise to her reaction.
“How did I get here?” she cries. “Where’s that man?” her head jerking around looking for the monster who had kidnapped her. “Oh my God, he told me you were dead!” she sobs.
“Sweetheart,” I say softly trying to calm her. “You’ve been here all afternoon. You must have had a bad dream.” I stroke her hair and she hugs herself tightly to me.
“No!” she insists. “A horrible man came in and snatched me up while I was asleep and then threw me in the trunk of his car and drove me someplace else. He said he had killed you with a knife….” She begins crying inconsolably.
“He put me in this room… it was like a dungeon or something. There was this loud music and lights going on and off — one of them was a sign that said No Hope,” she whispered, almost in shock from the memory.
I kept my arms wrapped around her, making soothing sounds of comfort.
“He tied me to a wall. I didn’t have any clothes on. I couldn’t see his face because he wore a mask. He made me drink something. It just seemed to be water, but pretty soon I began seeing colors dripping and melting all around and hearing voices like people whispering about me.”
“Honey, don’t think about it. It was just a bad dream. I mean, here you are and here I am, too. You haven’t gone anywhere. We took a nap, and you woke up a little when I got up. You said you weren’t feeling very well, so I let you sleep all afternoon.”
I start to get up but she won’t let me.
“Come on, sweetie! Let’s go out to the kitchen. I’ve made some smoothies and sandwiches for us. Maybe if you eat something you’ll feel better.”
“Derek, he raped me!” she whimpered, looking down at the sheets. “He had me tied up and face down on this weird table. I couldn’t do anything to stop him. He fucked me real hard —- I can still feel it,” she said trying to convince me.
“Vika, you’ve been here all day,” I say more firmly now. “Lying right there sound asleep since about 11 o’clock. It’s about 4 now, so you’ve been out like a light for five hours.”
“No!” she insisted. “It happened. I can feel him touching me all over and doing things to me. I can still feel the ropes, goddammit!”
She pushes herself away from me and searched every inch of her body looking for a telltale sign to prove her story. She shakes her head in frustration and looks up at me.
“Derek, am I going crazy?” she asks. “It was more real than any dream I’ve ever had. It was more real than reality, if that makes any sense.”
“Darling, I don’t know what to tell you…” I sigh. “Dreams are funny things. The mind is the most powerful thing in the universe, at least as we know it. Sometimes weird things happen and parts of it start working that are normally shut down.”
I feel her forehead as if checking to see if she has a fever.
“I wish I knew what to tell you. Come on, let’s get something to eat and then we’ll go outside and maybe go for a swim if you want.”
“I think I want to go home, if that’s all right with you,” she asks timidly. “I need some time to try to figure out what’s happening to me. Can I come back over later on tonight? Maybe around 9 o’clock or so?”
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