July 18, 1993
By Ed Ralphus, Staff writer
Plane carrying actress lost at sea.
The search continues for actress Shannon Whirry in the waters west of Bermuda. Ms. Whirry, 28, flew out of Charleston, SC on a small private charter airplane for a party on the island Saturday morning. Air Traffic Control reported losing contact with the aircraft a couple of hours later and were unable to raise it on radio. Coast Guard Search And Rescue helicopters have reported seeing some floating wreckage in the area, but no apparent survivors. Also missing, and feared lost, is the pilot, Ben Jacobs. Weather is not currently being blamed. Jacobs was an experienced pilot, familiar with the area. While the search continues, hopes of finding pilot and passenger alive fade . . .
Shannon Whirry slowly opened her eyes. Her head was throbbing with pain. What happened? One minute flying out to attend a lavish gala on Bermuda and the next . . . the next, here? Where was here? She looked around. A smallish cell with cinder brick walls. Steel door with one slot near the top, closed. She reached around her. Laying on a slightly musty mattress on a cot bolted to the wall. No sound, no motion, no clue.
"Hello? HELLO! Is anyone there?" she called out. "What's going on? Where am I? Hey! WHERE AM I?! Hello?" Nothing. No answer. Then, a few minutes later, the small door window slid open and a man's face looked in. "Hey, HEY!" Shannon cried. "Who are you? What's going on? This is a mistake. Let me out. LET ME OUT! LET ME O . . ." The metal slide just closed without response. Now, what the fuck, Shannon asked herself.
She rose and went to the door, fighting the pounding in her head and the nausea. She pounded on it with her hands. "Hello?! Fuck! Let me out of here! HEY! Open up! Let me out! Hey! I'm an American citizen! You better let me out, now, if you know what's good for you. HEY!" Nothing. Then she heard a soft hissing coming from somewhere, barely audible. What, wha . . . Wha. . . Shannon felt her eyes getting heavy. She stumbled, then fell onto the cot and her eyes closed.
Later, sometime later—how long she didn't know—her eyes fluttered open again; blinding light at first, so she closed them again. Drugged. I must have been drugged, Shannon thought, groggy. Now what's this? Still clothed; blouse, skirt still there. Bound, though. Not naked, but still she could feel that her panties were gone, leaving her sex exposed beneath the skirt. She pulled on her arms. Both drawn to either side and held tight within some kind of horizontal wooden pillory mounted on a stout post behind her back, arms out and bent at right angles, wrists locked into holes in the wood. Tugging at her feet, she felt rather than saw that they were secured at the ankles about a yard apart. She tried to move her head, but found that that, too, was captured inside another hole, this one within another board attached forward of the wrist plank. This small variation, she found, that pulled her shoulders back with the commensurate, and clearly obvious effect of forcing her chest out and forward toward the room. And what a room. Fancy, luxurious even. Brightly illuminated by sunlight streaming through large bay windows that looked out over the blue seas without.
Then she noticed some of the details her first glance had missed. There was the nude form of a young woman, tied spreadeagled from ropes at wrists and ankles on the patio outside the windows. Her back was pale white where a bathing suit had covered it in the sun, but Shannon could clearly see the brilliant red marks of whip welts curling around her sides and upper torso, some even dripping blood. A bloodied whip lay on the tiles before her. What the fuck. Then there the man. Tall, black hair, late twenties maybe, and handsome in a hard way. He was standing about ten feet in front of her. Shannon was chilled, as much by her helplessness as the gleaming look of lust in his eyes. Whatever this was, it wasn't good. Attack.
"I don't know who you are," she exclaimed, "but you are in some big trouble! I have friends! You've kidnapped me! Kidnapping! People will be looking for me. The FBI doesn't take kidnapping lightly. There will be repercussions! You will go to prison, you asshole! Let me go! You let me go now, NOW, and I won't say anything. Just let me go . . ." Shannon was ashamed at how this last statement had the sound of pleading, of desperation. Then she grew more afraid at how the man didn't seem cowed in the least. Indeed, the only reaction was a small snide smile. Confident. Excited.
"No, my pet," he purred, "No one will do anything. You were 'lost at sea.' The Coast Guard are searching, but they won't find anything. I own you. You are now a possession, one I have desired—and paid a lot of money to procure.
"Let me tell you what is going on, why you are here. First, who I am: My name is Carl Parker. You may have heard of me—certainly you have heard of my father, Magnus Parker. He was smart, became a multimillionaire in oil and, later, early technology. I am even smarter, and took his business to the next level. I am one of the first billionaires—that's a thousand fucking million, pet. With that, I bought this island. Outside of US waters, and outside of any extradition. Believe me, the local government is far more enamored of my most generous bribes than your country's pathetic laws. One destroyer port call every two years? Please.
"Let me tell you why you are here—and why you should be afraid. I first noticed you when I saw your movies. Animal Instincts. Body of Influence, a few more. After the first—accidental, really—I sought out all the others, although I couldn't possibly name them. Immaterial. They were largely crap. Only soft core porn, of course, so the bar is already low, of course. Ridiculous plots facilitating soft core sex, but I was entranced. Not at your acting, of course, but by your body.
"So you intrigued me. Born November 1964, so that makes you 28, although I must say you look younger. A pretty enough face. I lean more toward cute, but you presented other—ah--considerations that made up for that deficiency, yes indeed. Frankly, it was your breasts that especially attracted me, the reason you are my guest. Large, but not pendulous—35D's, your resume says—and on a 123 pound frame. Impressive. Tall at 5'7", and so slim and athletic. A nice wholesome Midwestern girl, born in Wisconsin. 'America's Dairy land,' eh? Appropriate with mammaries like yours, eh? And such marvelous nipples. Large and such a splendid pink color. They really contrast beautifully with that superb porcelain skin. I wonder if your movies do them justice? Well, I simply had to have you here on my island to find out. You and those fine tits. To enjoy in my special way.
"I can see you still don't understand. Certainly not completely. Rape, you are probably thinking. That I went to this length, the party, the flight, the crash, even losing my best pilot and friend, just to fuck you. If you think that is all, you flatter yourself. With my money, I can rent the most beautiful women in the world to spend a night in my bed. Happily. Ah, you look confused. Why then, you wonder. Why me? What do I want, then? Very well, let me be specific. You see, I am a sadist. I take great pleasure from torturing ripe young women like yourself. Sexual pleasure, to be blunt. And I especially love torturing them on their naked breasts. Whipping them primarily, but also burning, branding, and piercing. Never fails to get me erect and twitching. Even as a little boy, I found I was fascinated by torture; the Christian martyrs, the Spanish Inquisition, the Gestapo and Kenpeitai in WWII. It was an obsession. Then came puberty and I discovered girls. The thought of torturing them was immediate and profound. I worried at first that that desire made me sick, a pervert. The wondering of every young man, I suspect, when he first discovers what makes his dick hard. Then I discovered that I could just accept it. Embrace it. Why not? It made me feel good, I could afford to indulge it, so why the fuck not? Good bad, right wrong; those are abstracts. No, the only reality for me—and soon for you—is that hurting you will bring me pleasure. And here you are, totally in my hands." Shannon was shocked at his words, chilled by the way his body suddenly shivered with delight, his whole body consumed at the moment in lustful anticipation. He regained control with an effort.
"Over all that history, women must have anticipated things like that. Torture, you see, has always been inflicted on naked flesh. And women, I need not tell you, have always intrigued the men who passed that judgment on them and the crowd that would always gather to watch her humiliation, her suffering. And the victim was always young, pretty, so the old women, the ugly ones, were the most vociferous in screaming for her torture, yelling to the beadle to whip her some more, and harder, to make her bleed. And the whores—well, now, they made a pretty penny working that same crowd, two bits, four francs, or a shilling, depending on the country, to kneel down and suck a cock. Even back then, there was a connection between torture and sexual arousal. So even the simple punishment flogging of a whore would have the woman stripped to the waist on the whipping post. And she must have expected that the local beadle would extend a lash or two to embrace her breasts—the local law often augmented their pay with tips, after all, and providing such lusty entertainment was always a way to add to their tip jars. Same with interrogations, or even executions. Not that they shied from genital torment, of course—at least in the torture chambers—but that was generally frowned upon, especially in religious times. No, any woman must have foreseen that her tits would have drawn their attention, even as an adjunct to her primary ordeal. The Japanese Military Police especially loved getting an American nurse in their hands—Jap women tend to have small tits and brown nipples—so the attraction of big plump ones with rosy paps must have been irresistible.
"Now you, my pet, have a luxury they did not. They could only guess, imagine, fear, but you have the certainty that your tits will not only happen to attract attention, but that they are the primary, nay, the only reason you are here. No. No, they are why I spent so much money for you. That, and my love of torturing them.
"Well, enough talk. I've waited long enough. Now I must see them."
Carl stepped forward and reached up to her throat. He began to unbutton the front of her blouse, smiling as one after the other was opened. Shannon Whirry began protesting again, threatening, but he simply ignored her. When he reached the bottom, he tossed the sides apart to reveal her chest, still encased within the well-filled brassiere. His eyes glittered at the sight. He grasped the mounds, squeezing them through the taut fabric, but just for a moment. "Marlene, the shears, please," he said. The woman handed him the large scissors and stepped back.
The man began at Shannon's shoulders, cutting away the fine silk blouse at her neck and down the short sleeves. Right then left, until it fell away to the ornate tile floor. He took a moment to appreciate the lusty sight of the young woman's chest clad only in the straining white brassiere, then reached up and cut the thin straps over each shoulder. Now the only thing protecting her breasts was the elastic, and well-filled, nylon cups. One more moment to indulge his anticipation, then the shears snipped the narrow middle band apart and the final, flimsy covering fell away, falling to her feet and revealing her torso fully and gloriously nude to the waist. Her hands were firmly locked out and away, so she was helpless to protect her now proudly out thrust bare breasts. Shannon could not help thinking, now, about what this apparently sophisticated man had said. A sadist, he had said. A torturer, he had implied. Kidnapped just for her body, her breasts, he had bragged. And now they were exposed. Vulnerable.
"Oh, my," Carl murmured, "Even more succulent than I had hoped." Shannon's breasts truly were magnificent. Now freed from the constricting nylon cups, they surged forward, proud and free. Many with their measurement size, he had found, were almost grotesque once released from their bra. At best, they revealed fleshy pears. At worst? Ugh. Shannon Whirry's, however, captured the delicate pear shape without sacrificing pride. Form and size in perfect complement. Not that the more busty ones didn't offer their own enjoyments, of course. After all, every one involved some outlay of capital and one shouldn't waste that, ever. The one thing his father had taught him that he had no problem taking to heart. So what if their tits flopped to the side when laid out on the whipping bench? The bench could easily be angled to the best angle to present them to the whip. Problem solved. Even hanging them by their ankles would offer the tender, usually hidden, undersides for special attention while making it harder for them to pass out from the pain. Compromise, of course, but compromise just means that neither side is completely happy. Oh, well, there was always a different definition of "happy," he thought. Just depends on which side of the whip you are on.
Shannon Whirry's breasts, now, didn't require any such compromise. No lessening of expectations. The skin was fine-grained and smooth. He was pleased to see that any sun bathing she did was wearing a bikini, so the trembling globes were a delicate cream white that contrasted splendidly with the slightly darker flesh above and beneath. At their tips, the large pale pink aureoles immediately crinkled up, hardening in the centers and enhancing the tiny bumps spread across them. His hands rose up, compelled past restraint. He was gentle, almost loving, as he stroked and fondled the globes. She actually heard him sigh with pleasure at the contact. Shannon found his tenderness somehow more monstrous and threatening than if he had been rough. "Oh, my dear," he said quietly, "I had expectations, hopes, but nothing like this. I believe that there is nothing so soft, nothing so sensuous as a woman's breasts. And yours, yours are finer and softer than any I have had here." He gently lifted the mounds, bobbled them gently in his hands, stroking them ever so lightly up and down with his fingertips. He pressed a bit, relishing their elastic resilience. His thumbs reached up to tease the growing teats back and forth. "Soft, so soft," he crooned. "So much better than I had imagined. I bet they are sensitive, eh? Certainly delicate. Tender." The teats grew even harder and more erect, rolling under his thumbs. "Yes, most assuredly sensitive. . .
"You know why I love hurting a woman's breasts?" he murmured, still petting the globes. "I can't speak to any psychological issues—mother too caring, not caring enough. Maybe. Maybe. Whatever it might be, the simple, objective fact is that they are perfect for torture. Immediate and absolute proof of your sex, blatant declarations of your femininity. Your cunt does that, too, of course, but the tits stick right out presenting themselves for attention. And then, as if that wasn't enough, they are capped with nipples! Nipples aren't unique to women, of course, but a girl's are so much larger, more erectile, and so much more sensitive. I, myself, prefer pink ones like yours—a personal fetish, perhaps, but I don't worry about that, either—they display the marks of the whip and hot metal so much more vividly and I can afford to indulge my preferences. That's enough for me.
"You shall find, as I have, that inflicting torture on a woman's tits carries with it so much more than simple pain. No, it attacks the female's very femininity. The threat of ruining her as a woman. —Oh, don't fear, I have no intention of doing that with you—not right away, at least—no, you are a prize to be treasured. Someone to be savored.
"But you need an introduction, a . . . foretaste, shall we say. And I confess to a certain immediacy with you. Marlene, the rod, then the quirt."
The man moved to Shannon's side and the dark-haired woman handed him a stiff cane. Carl took careful aim, then swept his arm out three times with the instrument to attack Shannon's proffered breasts, one across the tops, one to lift the mounds, and then a final cut that just caught the undersides of her aureoles. Shannon gasped, barely held back the scream she so wanted to utter. Then, a moment later, the more flexible, and biting quirt, attacked her bare breasts again, the same way.
The young woman raised her head to the limit of the stock, gasping in pain at the burning in her out thrust breasts. Her eyes were closed in suffering and so she didn't see the man close in. She barely felt the front of her skirt being lifted, but couldn't ignore the sudden sensation down between her legs. She never saw Carl open the front of his baggy pants, but felt his swollen glans push up against her sex. Then, with one impassioned push, the man's shaft shoved itself to the hilt into her vagina. His hands grasped Shannon's sides, holding her as his hips began a rapid pumping, back and forth, in and out, fucking her like a beast. It didn't last long before she felt his spasm and he gripped her about the waist as she felt him ejaculate into her. A few convulsions and he pulled out.
"Ah, that was good, but too exciting, too much too soon," he said. He turned to the dark haired woman. "I had to experience her, Marlene, but next time I shall take my time. One shouldn't be a glutton, but I had to have her. Return her to her room. Care for her. Two days, I think, then I shall send for her on the patio. No, this one is a treasure, and should be treated as such." He tucked his fading erection back into his pants. "No, as a treasure," he murmured.
He gestured to the hanging nude behind him. "Bonnie has displeased me, but now that I've satisfied myself with Miss Whirry I'm no longer interested in fucking her, so any further flogging would be a waste. Perhaps we can kill two birds with one stone. Put her on the sawhorse in our new guest's cell tonight. It will keep her entertained and better inform her of the price of my disappointment. You may remind her of her tits when you keep Bonnie awake, but," he smiled, "gently, ladies, gently. . ."
* * * * *
The same two women came for her a couple of days later. They didn't say a anything, just took rough hold of her arms and dragged her out of the cell. Shannon tried resisting, but their strength was much greater than hers and they carried her along without seeming effort.
This time, she was taken to the large outdoor patio overlooking the ocean where she had seen the unfortunate Bonnie's whipped body. It was early afternoon, so the sun was bright and a gentle breeze blew in from the sea. Wood beams overhead supported a brightly colored awning so that half the patio was in shade. She saw Parker sitting at a table. It was covered with a table cloth and an elegant china service and silver platters of food. "Ah, here you are, my dear," he said. "I was afraid you would be late and I was just now about to start my lunch."
She was momentarily speechless at the incongruous sight after her brutal introduction and the hellish first night, then blurted, "Wha-what are you going to do? Why can't you just let me go? I promise I won't say anything. Just please, please let me go," she cried plaintively.
He gestured to the women holding her, then picked up a fork and bent over his plate. They grabbed Shannon and dragged her back to the half of the patio not covered by the awning, into the bright sunshine. It was only then that Whirry noticed a pair of ropes hanging from a beam. Both ended in leather cuffs. She was no more successful preventing the harpies from buckling her wrists into them she had been being taken from her cell. In seconds her arms were extended above her, loosely, wrists about a foot over the top of her head. Shannon had been provided with a cheap blue cotton blouse to replace the one the man had cut off that first day. She also wore the same skirt which was quickly husked down from her hips. They continued to deny her any panties, so she was left embarrassingly naked below the waist, but that shame was immediately replaced with fear as she felt her ankles grabbed, tugged apart and enclosed in two more cuffs. She looked down and saw that a wood dowel was now holding her feet about a yard apart. Shannon tugged at her bonds—to no avail; she was helpless again.
Parker looked up from his plate. "Ladies, please make our guest more comfortable. She is over dressed for lunch and it's a fine day, the sun is shining, surely she would like to take advantage of the warm rays." Silent as ever, they stepped in closer, one in front, one behind. They took hold of the blouse's collar and, with a vicious wrench, tore the shirt apart and down, tossing the shreds away. Then they stepped away, leaving the young woman totally naked in the bright light. The man had been lifting a forkful of crab to his mouth, but stopped, compelled by the sight. By god, he thought, she really is stunning.
Stunning was an apt word. Tall for a woman and with a lush hour-glass figure, her body seemed to glow in the brilliant sunlight. He was particularly drawn again to the large bare breasts, jiggling on her chest to her struggles. Their milk-white skin was appealingly enhanced with the few largely faded ruddy lines left by her previous whipping. As he was the first day, Carl was particularly drawn to the broad pink nipples. Even as he watched, the disks crinkled up, the tips rising into hard points as the breeze from the ocean caressed them. She yanked again at the ropes, which only made the globes wobble on her chest. By god, he thought again, the bitch was expensive, but seeing her like this he knew she was worth every penny.
Shannon was afraid. After the casual way this man had whipped and raped her, she knew that she was powerless. And then there had been her first night in this fancy and beautiful villa of perversion. The girl she had seen hanging and whipped bloody, Bonnie, had been brought to her small prison room that evening. Shannon was tied loosely, face up, on her cot. Bonnie was then dragged in, naked. They lifted her and set her roughly atop a cruel wooden sawhorse. It had been modified, Whirry saw, to make the top a sharp-edged steel wedge. Bonnie's wrists were tied above her head to rings set in the low ceiling, then her ankles bound together with a final rope passed over the sawhorse behind her. Once she was firmly mounted the women left. For those first two hours, the two captives were ignored, Shannon on her back and Bonnie riding the fiendish horse. And all the while, Bonnie whimpered in pain as the sharp ridge pushed relentlessly up into her crotch, aided by the weight of her petite body. That hadn't been the worst, of course—here, Shannon would learn—there was always something worse. Three times during that night, one or the other woman would show up. The first time it was the blonde woman, Birgit. She wrenched Shannon's new blouse apart to expose her breasts. As ex-Stasi, the once feared East German Secret Police, she was well versed in the use of torture for interrogation, or just terror—and nothing inspired more terror than having the victim's sex organs bared and vulnerable. She took a moment to pinch Shannon's nipples, smiling all the while, then turned her attention to Bonnie. She used a stiff cane to sweep a dozen hard, rapid strokes to her round ass cheeks, each one forcing the wretch to grind her crotch on the steel ridge. Birgit finished with six more bitter cuts across her helpless naked breasts, just for the pain, and to keep the miserable girl awake and aware of the inexorable pressure splitting her loins. Bonnie wasn't gagged, so the shrieks of excruciating genital agony were piercing, her desperate pleas plaintive.
Marlene came in next. She used a short quirt, but the pattern was similar. A dozen harsh strokes to torment the wretch's ass perched on the horse and a few more to her tits. There was one variation this time, though: a couple—almost as an afterthought—to Shannon's breasts as well, the "gentle reminder" Carl had mentioned.
The final time both of the women entered the cell. Birgit cracked a small glass ampule under the miserable girl's nose, causing her nostrils to flare and her body surge up on the horse. Smelling salts. Then both stood to either side and savagely attacked her buttocks with long, narrow wooden paddles. One after the other, left and right, each announced by a loud wet smack. Holes had been drilled in the paddles, both to add to the speed of impact and to create hard round blisters. This time they didn't stop with a dozen. No, this time the two simply continued to pound Bonnie's buttocks. The screams became piercing shrieks as the pain rose. On the nineteenth blow, the blood started to flow when one of Birgit's strikes burst some of the dark red blisters. She grinned at Marlene. Apparently the two had a bet over who would accomplish this first. Once the skin cracked the first time, almost every fresh blow was so rewarded. The sound of the wood paddles striking her flesh grew increasingly wet and sprayed scarlet with each one. Shannon could see that the metal blade she rode was shiny with blood also, testament to how it had so brutally savaged her cunt. Birgit changed her stance so she could send her paddle to Bonnie's vulnerable bare breasts, repeated horizontal blasts that flattened the globes, driving them against her chest and raising fresh blisters. Bonnie, by this time, was completely mastered by the atrocious pain and her shrieks hurt Shannon's ears within the small chamber. Such hideous suffering could not be endured for long. Even stimulated by the smelling salts, there was a limit. The Stasi women knew this, of course. This wasn't an exercise in long-term suffering—that had been the purpose of the previous six hours—but a sprint to inflict as much accelerated agony as the girl could withstand as quickly as possible. Soon, just a few minutes actually, and only a few seconds after Birgit drew the first explosion of blood from Bonnie's heaving breasts, one final, ear-piercing inchoate wail of intolerable agony ripped through the cell and she sagged, senseless on the horse. Marlene dropped her paddle and approached the girl. She slapped her face. Lifted one closed eyelid. "Schisse. Sie ist tot. No German would die so easily. These American women are weak. Still, Birgit, the bitch did give good entertainment while she lasted." The brunette woman turned back to Shannon Whirry, still tied face-up on her cot, eyes wide with horror. "You should consider yourself lucky, whore. You still enjoy Herr Carl's favor. This one," she shot a contemptuous glance at Bonnie as the horse, with her lifeless body still astride was being dragged away, "this one became . . . boring." She smiled. "Pray you never become boring."
The memory was still fresh—how can you forget watching a young woman tortured to death before your eyes—so Shannon had to try something. "You better let me go," she blustered. "There are laws! This is kidnapping, rape! If you let me go now, I won't say anything, but you better do it now if you know what's good for you!" Parker just looked at her a moment, saying nothing, then he smiled, and that smile made her shiver despite the warm temperature.
"Birgit, gag the bitch!" he commanded, "She has nothing to say I want to hear. Marlene, you get the cream."
Whirry sucked in her breath, defeated. She wanted to protest more. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Then the moment was lost and the blonde-haired woman shoved a small round plastic ball between her teeth from behind and tied it in place. She twisted her head frantically, nostrils flaring in near panic. She saw the dark-haired one approaching from the front. She was holding a small tub of something. Whirry was suddenly even more chilled when she saw this woman grin at her. A strong arm reached around her waist from behind and held her firmly. She looked back over her shoulder, but her attention was immediately brought back to the front when she felt a hand on one thigh. She stared down and saw the woman dip some grayish paste from the tub. The pressure on her leg got harder, then she felt the cream being rubbed over her labia, coating them from the delicate ridge in back to the prominent mound in front, parting the light brown curls to cover the genitals. Shannon caught a sharp, acrid odor. Marlene took out one more small dollop and used her middle finger to part the lips and ensure that Shannon's sensitive clitoris was well coated. One final trip to the tub and her nipples were anointed with the greasy stuff. Then she and Birgit stepped away to leave the young woman hanging in the bright sunshine. She heard the man's voice and looked up to him. His full attention was on her, she saw, food momentarily forgotten.
"I bet you're wondering what that stuff is, aren't you? What it means? That's a simple athletic liniment. It's called "Atomic Balm." Runners rub it on their legs after practice. The active ingredient is oleoresin capsicum—that's the same stuff the police have in their pepper spray, the stuff that makes your eyes burn. Well, the cream has a profound effect on tissue, especially mucous membranes—just like that between your legs. You will begin to feel it soon, pet. A gentle warming. An itch. Then the heat will grow, and grow." Her eyes got wide. Yes, already it was starting. She could sense the first warmth inside her vagina. Carl saw it. "Yes, you're beginning to feel it, aren't you. Good." He beckoned the servant over. "Some of the lobster now, Pablo. Yes, some cold lobster will be an excellent accompaniment to the entertainment, I think."
Only five minutes after the cream was smeared over her sex, Shannon was definitely feeling it, exactly as he described. Warmth, itching, then heat, and more heat, and more. Two minutes more and it felt like her loins were on fire. And still the heat grew. She wrenched at the ropes holding her upright from the beam, desperate to free her hands, to do something, anything, to stop the burning between her thighs. All the while the man calmly sat at the table, eating his lobster.
After ten minutes, Parker waved Pablo over. The table was cleared and removed, but he kept his wine glass which Pablo immediately refilled. He spoke briefly to the servant, who scurried away, then turned his full attention to the squirming girl. Whirry was no longer looking at him. He knew from past experience that all of her attention, indeed her entire existence was focused on her groin. She was certainly entertaining. Overwhelmed by the sensations, she was writhing like a thing possessed. Her nude body was shiny with sweat, gleaming in the bright sunlight. The binding was deliberately loose enough to give her just enough freedom to put on a most lascivious dance. He was particularly drawn to way her large bare breasts cavorted on her chest. Salome herself never put on a more arousing performance. Parker could hear her maddened whines from under the gag. He had been tempted to forgo it so he could listen to her wails and pleas for mercy, but was glad now that he hadn't. Not being able to give any vent to her suffering only increased the misery. Her eyes were wild, nostrils flaring with every convulsive breath. Pablo returned to his side, leading a small redheaded girl. He glanced up at her. "You know what to do, Melanie," he commanded. "You best do a good job, or you know what will happen. You know I don't tolerate ineptitude or lack of proper enthusiasm." He saw the flash of fear in her blue eyes. She nodded. Of course she knew. She had been on his island long enough. She reached up and unbuttoned her blouse, letting it fall. Her upper body was naked beneath it, revealing two pert round tits. She knelt down in front of the chair. Parker was wearing loose elastic sweat pants. The redhead reached for the waist band and Carl lifted his hips just enough for her to pull them down and expose his groin. "Ahhh," he groaned as his erect penis popped up into the air. "That feels much, much better." He settled back and spread his legs, wriggling a little to get more comfortable and better present his sex to the girl. She wasted no time, leaning forward to start licking the shaft. "Ahhh," he sighed again and turned his attention back to Shannon.
If anything, the young woman's contortions had grown even more extreme. Sweat poured profusely from her thrashing body. Her chest heaved to every convulsive breath. He knew that her nipples were feeling some effect from the hellish balm, but that was just a minor addition Carl liked doing so his victims didn't completely forget about their tits. It paled to near insignificance in the face of the fiery inferno between her thighs. Parker watched with rapt fascination, complementing himself again on his decision to abduct this young woman. Down between his legs, Melanie slid her tongue slowly up and down against his erection. At the top, she opened her lips and gently took the turgid glans into her mouth. She felt it vibrate from the intense erotic sensations and backed off quickly. She knew that if she brought him climax too quickly she would be given to those two fiends, Birgit and Marlene for punishment—retraining they called it, but it was hideous torment, regardless. Yet she had never known him to be this aroused, this rigid and throbbing in all the times she had blown him. Shivering in fear, she returned to a simple laving with her tongue, leaving the shaft occasionally to lick the scrotum, and very very careful to avoid the frenulum, that exquisitely sensitive triangle just beneath the engorged head.
Still, despite her effort to bring him down a little, to ease his excitement, the lusty spectacle Shannon was putting on was just too stimulating. She heard his breathing quicken and the rod jerked up in her face. No! Even worse than making him come too quickly was to fail to drink down every drop of semen. She remembered one girl who had allowed that to happen. All the other captives had been forced to watch while the two women had whipped her to death. They took their time, drawing the gruesome ordeal out for almost two hours before the bleeding wretch breathed her last. The last half hour they had switched to wire whips that they would first lay in a brazier until the metal glowed red hot, so each new stroke would add the hideous pain of burning to the impacts. With that memory etched in her mind forever, she felt the first spasms start down at the base. Desperate, she quickly took it all he way in, swallowing its full length and sucking strongly. Parker grabbed her hair and pulled her close, almost choking her when the hot jets erupted from the bloated head and down her throat. She heard his grunts of pleasure and felt the muscles of his thighs twitch against her cheeks. Soon enough the contractions slowed and stopped. Melanie felt him lean back in the chair, relaxing, but still breathing rapidly from the sweet release of his orgasm. It took another minute before the sensations subsided enough for him transfer his immediate attention from his dick back to Shannon. Her nude body was still jerking from the ropes, but fading. Struggling against the burning pain took almost as much effort as running a marathon and she was near the end of her endurance. Birgit briefly revitalized Shannon Whirry by delivering a dozen hard rapid strokes to her buttocks with a stiff Malacca rod, but the young woman was still clearly at the limit of her endurance. Only ten minutes more and her lusty nude body could only hang from the wrist cords, her sweaty body twitching in misery.
"Ok, ladies, that's enough for now," Carl drawled. "Clean off her cunt and take her down. Then back to her room to rest. The bitch provides such grand entertainment, I may be tempted to play with her again sooner than usual. Oh, and shave her cunt and underarms before I send for her again; I do so dislike having even those pitiful few curls between my attentions and her flesh. I have a new toy I've been eager to try out and I don't want anything protecting her slit when I do." Then, as an afterthought, "and when she has recovered enough, do tell her that the same company that makes Atomic Balm also makes a product they call 'Red Hot.' Anticipation is always a nice thing, eh?"
Marlene and Birgit returned to Whirry's side. Birgit grabbed her waist, forced to use much of her considerable strength to hold the sweat-slippery body body still as Marlene took a sodden dripping rag and used it to wipe her genitals. Shannon produced an incredibly loud and high-pitched nasal whine. Her body went rigid then sagged from the ropes, senseless. The best thing to remove the greasy Atomic Balm was isopropyl alcohol. An irritant to nerve-filled flesh at any time, rubbing her now inflamed and bloated labia was a shock of agony that finally overwhelmed Whirry's mind and she fell into merciful unconsciousness.
Down between his legs, the little redhead was finishing her work cleaning Carl's drooping penis with her mouth and tongue. Sated and well pleased with himself, he patted her head indulgently. He lifted his glass. "Pablo, some more Chablis, if you would."
* * * * *
Three days after her ordeal with the Atomic Balm—Shannon wasn't sure—the dark-haired woman, Marlene, came for her. Any forlorn hope she had that this didn't mean more pain for her was crushed when Marlene buckled a leather collar around her neck and then more cuffs about her wrists and ankles. These, she would find, were to be constant companions from now on. Only then was she shoved through the cell door and to another room two floors higher. It was a dark, wood-paneled room. Carl—she still found it hard to think of him by so mundane a name—was waiting in a clearly expensive lounge chair wearing a yellow silk kimono. A small table sat beside the chair with a bottle of wine, glass, and candle. It was only then that she noticed the strange framework mounted on the ceiling above it. The man smiled when he saw her and she knew that meant some kind of pain for her.
Then he spoke. "Strip. All the way. I want you naked," then leaned back to watch. He always clothed his victims between their sessions with him. He had learned that the act of exposing their bodies anew for each fresh torment was more terrifying than had they been nude throughout. Even then, there was the variation of alternating between having their covering forcefully torn away or being made to expose themselves to the pain they surely knew was coming. He often played a mental game with himself which was worse. Savage, rapid stripping evoked an immediate and frantic fear, but forcing them to do it themselves, knowing what was coming, was almost worse. It made them accomplices in their own suffering. Carl had never come to a conclusion, either way, and it didn't really matter. Both had their thrills. Both were fun.
Shannon Whirry was afraid. She desperately didn't want to be naked with this man. But she also couldn't help thinking back to yesterday—was it only yesterday? She had been taken from her cell to another room in the mansion. There she had seen a scene from the savage Inquisition of old, only with a more modern method of application. The petite redhead, Melanie, the same girl who had been made to suck the man's dick while she herself writhed under the hellish chemical burning, was cruelly bound before her. She was on her knees, and nude. Her wrists were secured within two metal shackles on either side of a raised pipe, about a yard above a small platform. Behind her, a thick wire crossed her lower back, passing beneath her hips, between her legs and pulled back to another pipe behind her, holding her body parallel to the floor. But that was only the binding. The true horror was what they had done next. Beneath her horizontal torso, they had placed an electric grill, like a space heater, with glowing coils, under her upper body directly beneath the fat little tits she remembered. Shannon could actually see the roiling waves of hot air rising to lick her upper body. It was nothing less than the slow roasting, the broiling of the girl's chest.
There was nothing the unfortunate girl could do to avoid the hellish pain. No way to escape it. She couldn't pull back because of the cuffs holding her wrists. She couldn't move forward because of the wire holding her hips back. And between the two, she couldn't raise her chest high enough to elude the hot air, however much she writhed. The girl had obviously been there for a while, as Shannon could see that the side of her right breast was flushed red. And she was wailing. Loud screams mixed with frantic pleas for mercy and desperate promises to be better next time, if only given the chance. But there was no pity here.
"First she was unable to swallow all of our employer's load that day when you first entertained him. Then the bitch was slow to obey a command," Birgit commented casually. "Our employer insists on instant compliance. She was sloppy, reluctant, so she must be disciplined. Next time I'm sure she will be more obedient."
Even as she watched the fiendish scene, Shannon Whirry saw a small blister rise up on the side of the breast she could see. Oh, God, oh God, she thought. If it is so hot there, what must her nipples be feeling. Melanie sagged a bit, but that immediately increased the heat tormenting her breasts and she jerked up. She tried, again, to pull back. And again to lurch forward, but there was no escape from the heat. Then, as if this slow torture wasn't bad enough, Marlene, standing beside her, took the cane she was holding and delivered several vicious strokes to Melanie's upraised buttocks. WHACK, WHACK, WHACK, WHACK, WHACK, again and again, the final couple reaching down to find the crease at the tops of her thighs, each one drawing a howl of agony.
Birgit addressed her again. "In another fifteen minutes, her titties will be well blistered. Second-degree burns are the most painful, you know. First-degree are nothing more than a bad sunburn; third-degree chars the flesh and kills the nerves, a waste. Nein, it is the second-degree that is the worst. It is the blisters. Later I expect our employer to send for the bitch. For his pleasure, nicht wahr? After this discipline, he likes to have them pleasure him by using their tits. Rubbing them on him. That every stroke causes them great pain excites him. And, of course, the fluid from the breaking blisters provides its own lubricant. No, I think she will be more obedient next time. But it doesn't matter much. I think that Herr Parker is already starting to be bored with her." She chuckled. "There are always more, though." The German woman reached over to cup one of Shannon's breasts over her blouse, squeezing it. "Your Busen, now, being so much larger, they will dangle even closer to the heat. Nicht wahr?"
Now Shannon was standing before this man, with the stark order ringing in her ears. Strip, he commanded. Naked. Only a day earlier, before being shown poor Melanie's gruesome torment, both of this man's female assistants had come to her cell, tied her to her cot, and callously shaved her still-inflamed labia until it was bare as a babe's. Then her underarms. Followed, again, by cleaning away the lather with raw alcohol, laughing at her shrieks.
Tentatively, hesitantly, she reached up to her collar and the first of the buttons holding her shirt on. She looked up once, pleading with her eyes, but there was no pity there. Only lust. When the final button was undone she looked to him one more time with no more effect than before, then husked the blouse off her shoulders and down to the floor. This time she had also been allowed a bra, a final covering over her breasts. Yet even that was calculated. Karl wanted her to expose her body in stages, each step more embarrassing than the one before. Each step more vulnerable. Once again, Shannon looked to the man, begging with her eyes to retain this last frail protection. But, no. She saw his eyes narrow, his mouth compress. A short lift of his head was her answer. She dropped her eyes and reached back behind her back for the hooks, tremulously opening all three. For an instant, she held the straps together, and made one final plea with her eyes. No. Get on with it, his gaze commanded. Shannon dropped her arms to her sides, allowing the bra to fall at her feet and so stand nude to the waist before him. Carl's eyes widened at the sight of Shannon Whirry's large bare breasts, quivering from her terror, excited again in anticipation. She dropped her arms and kept them by her side, embarrassed, fluttering impotently in her desire to cover and protect them with her hands, but still remembering poor young Melanie. Another terrified glance to him told her to continue. Shannon drew a deep breath, then reached for the zipper behind her skirt and tugged it down. A moment later it, too, fell to her feet and the young woman stood totally nude before him.
Carl took a long moment to inspect her body, and then nodded. Immediately, Marlene and Birgit pulled her toward the chair. "C'mon, bitch," Marlene barked. "You are holding up the fun."
Shannon was marched over to the lounge, and held there while Carl Parker silently inspected her. He briefly considered her cunt, the smooth shaved lips plump and rosy, but his true interest lay elsewhere and his eyes moved up immediately to fix on the distended nude tits. With only her arms held behind her back, her every fearful breath set them into a delicious trembling on her chest. Another minuscule nod and the women got busy. Both of her arms were raised and drawn back behind her head where the wrist cuffs were fastened to the leather collar. Next a short steel rod was roughly shoved beneath both bent elbows. There wasn't enough room to fit the bar completely above her, so the women pulled it back behind her head, a minor adjustment that only served to press her shoulder blades even closer together and force the proud naked breasts even further out before her. Cords from the frame above her were fastened to rings at the ends of the bar. There was a soft whirring and she felt her body being lifted until she was raised to her tip-toes. A moment later and she felt her feet pulled clear of the floor by the German women and the ankle cuffs were roped to the bar, lifting her and spreading her legs. Once completely raised from the floor, her body swayed forward until it hovered above the smiling, recumbent man.
It was only now that Carl reached down to his waist to undo the silken band holding his kimono together and flick the sides apart. Against her wishes, she couldn't prevent her gaze from going down to his crotch. Even for her, the sight was surprising. She expected that he would be erect from his fondling—and he certainly was—but the refinement she saw was . . . different. Beneath the yellow silk, Carl wore a black leather brief, more of a jock strap, actually. What set this one apart was that the front was nothing but two hard rubber rings. They captured, separately, the base of his prick and his scrotum. Carl's penis was already sticking up, hard and swollen, but the simple device he had chosen very successfully raised his penis all but straight upright, its rigid head reaching up toward her.
Sexually active—indeed, Shannon loved to fuck—she was no stranger to cock rings. She liked the way they enhanced her pleasure. Her lovers had told her that they not only accentuated the sensations in their dicks, but also, paradoxically, delayed their orgasm. She kept a couple in the stand next to her bed, although they were simple adjustable rubber loops. But this, this . . . thing was threatening, malevolent where hers were erotic. Then her attention was drawn away from his crotch as the two women grabbed her and moved her body forward toward him.
Shannon Whirry groaned in shame as they pushed her to position her helpless nude form just above the man's hips. The way her arms were tied, up and back, forced her to arch her back with the deliberate effect of making her bare breasts thrust out from her chest as if demanding attention. Her naked body swayed gently just above Carl's rigid penis. There was one final refinement: the women looped cords over the bend of her knees and attached them to small capstans beneath the lounge chair. He leaned forward and his hands went immediately to her protruding breasts, cupping them and fondling the globes almost tenderly, trailing his fingertips down their sides, then using his thumbs to lightly brush the hardening teats. She lifted her head to the ceiling in shame.
Carl wasn't finished with his mental assault, either. He had learned that for maximal terror and anguish, a four-pronged attack was best. First, when not actually torturing his victim's breasts, he would constantly fondle them, caress them. That way her attention would always be on them with the knowledge that they would be the focus of her suffering. Second, at some point before he finished, he always exposed himself. This wasn't only for his pleasure, although having his dick exposed to the play felt fucking good, but so the girl could see it sticking up and know that her pain was bringing him sexual joy. That her ghastly torment was being dictated by the erect shaft between his legs. That her ordeal would continue until it was happy. Oh, sometimes he would have them blindfolded, knowing how being unable to see, to have even the pitiful relief of being able to prepare for the next lash or burn, added to their panic, but would always have it removed before the play was over. Then he would talk to them, tell them what was coming, and how he was going to enjoy it. Only after all that, finally, came the actual fiendish torture.
"Sooner or later, all of my female guests always say the same thing. 'Why?' they ask. 'Why are you doing this?' 'Why me?' Always why, why, why? The bottom line, of course, what they really want to know, but rarely put into words, is, 'What did I do to deserve this horror?' Well, I've already told you why I do it, the erotic delight hurting young women gives me. The 'Why me's?' are simple: because they are young and pretty. The "What did I do's?' vary, but it is always because of some choice they made. My agents never kidnap college girls, or break into homes. No, most are runaways, kids who disliked their small backwater towns in Nebraska, or the ones who left for New York or Hollywood to make it big. Always some choice they made. For you is was the choice to be a movie star, to make your living with your beauty instead of your brains. Wanting to excite strangers with your body, men you didn't know. Well, it worked. You excited me and here we are." Shannon Whirry was staring down at Carl throughout his speech, all the more chilling because of the calm matter-of-fact way he said it and the way he was playing with her nipples all the while. "Alright, ladies, it's time I think."
Shannon suddenly felt something new touch her chest, something cold and looked down. One of the ex-Stasi women was placing a bizarre bra over her chest. It was of metal, shiny stainless steel. Two four-inch diameter steel rings tugged back to the bases of the globes. Wires linked them to separate, one-inch rings that encircled the rosy paps. Carl reached up to happily assist, gripping the nipples and pulling the soft flesh forward. This not only drew Shannon's breast flesh further through the larger rings, but also centered the smaller ones to capture the large areolae. Marlene tightened the straps behind while Carl pulled in front until the preparation was complete. Shannon couldn't believe what the fiendish device had done to her breasts. What had been large pear-shaped mounds, were now two bloated cones of taut flesh, sticking out insistently. At both tips, the smaller rings forced her nipples into hard mushroom-like caps with their own independent insistence.
She wanted to protest, to threaten, but was too terrified to speak. Then she felt something different, a new sensation on her breasts and stared down at her chest. The man had dipped his fingers into a small bowl of oil and was now gently rubbing and massaging it over her protruding breasts. She was vaguely aware that his attentions finally focused on just the nipples, just the very tips of her breasts where they were forced out into their unnatural prominence by the smaller rings, pulled, squeezed, and massaged with the oil until they glistened. He pinched at the teats, rolling and drawing them out.
Now the terror hit. Never had she imagined that her body could be so totally exposed, so vulnerably presented. So helpless and unable to protect it. "Oh, please, please don't hurt me," she whimpered all through the basting. "Please, this is wrong, wrong. There are laws. This is kidnapping. Assault. But let me go now. Just let me go and I promise not to tell. I WON'T! Just let me go. Please, oh please, just let me go . . ."
It wasn't working. "Gag the bitch!" Carl snarled. Then he settled down. Leaned back. Relaxed, gazing up at Shannon's dangling body as the dark-haired woman forced a plastic ball into her mouth and tied it in place behind her head. Whirry fought the gag, but there was nothing she could do. Carl reached up to adjust the torture bra's positioning, pulling just a bit more of the breast flesh through, tugging just a little more of her nipples past the compressing rings. Shannon's head bent back in fear and shame.
"No, my dear, I will not let you go," he finally said. "This island is outside American law. Here I can do as I want. But wait." He reached for a piece of paper on the small table beside him. "Here, let me read this to you. You will find it interesting." He flipped the pages. "Ah, yes, here we are. 'Actress Shannon Whirry, missing after her small plane crashed into the sea, has now been declared lost and feared dead. All search efforts have been called off. A memorial service will be held this Thursday. Etc, etc, etc.
"No, my sweet, you are dead and gone so far as anyone knows. Lost. Missed, and no longer even looked for. No, you are dead to the world, but not to me. For me, you are a prized possession. A precious toy." He stared up at Shannon's naked breasts. The rings were doing exactly what they were designed to do: compress the flesh captured within. By artificially capturing the internal pressure, the globes were forced to expand, to bulge out and away from her chest, their skin pulling hard and tight. Very soon the mounds began to blush from the blood trapped inside them, the pressure enhancing the responsiveness of the nerves. At their tips, the separately compressed aureoles stuck out as independent caps, like those of mushrooms, yet capped with hard pointed peaks in their centers. The pink caps were so taut and swollen that Carl could see the thin blue tendril webbing of the blood vessels just beneath their surface. They trembled with every breath. Arrogant. Helpless. Inviting.
"Now, then, let's play."
Shannon could only listen in growing horror. She was thought dead. No one thought she was still alive. No one was looking for her. She was alone, alone, and in the hands of this sadistic maniac. She couldn't stop staring at his crotch. She saw his full arousal. She could see his sex swell even more. Growing even larger. Pointing up at her. Reaching for her. Twitching in anticipation. She glance up and saw that he was staring at her body with just as much intensity as she had just stared at his. Then he picked up the small wired control. He pressed a button and suddenly felt her body begin to descend, slowly, down toward his recumbent form.
Carl reached over toward the small table and picked up one of the instruments there, a fine needle, set into a short wooden handle. He held its tip in the flame until its tip glowed a bright yellow. Satisfied with it's heat, Carl lifted it to her left breast and quickly stabbed it into the bottom bulge of Shannon Whirry's left breast, trapped and bulging from the steel ring. A quick stab, in and out, that was all; a quick lancing announced by a brief hiss of steam from the bulging globe.
Shannon's body tensed, heaved, at the sudden bright spark of pain, but there was nothing she could do to escape the searing pain. Her muffled hiss of agony was scarcely acknowledged. Carl languidly returned the needle to the flame, holding it there until the tip glowed bright yellow again. He raised it once more and lanced it into the hard curve of the right mound's underside.
"Heeeeeeeeee!" she whined from under the gag. There was no pain worse than burning and now both of her bizarrely captured and distended globes were feeling that excruciating sensation. Another brief delay and Carl stabbed the glowing point into the side of her captured right breast. Again and again, the man held the fiendish needle in the flame until it glowed and then lifted it to lance into her swollen breasts. Shannon could look down, past the man's grinning face, and see that the constricting rings had made her once cream-white skin blush red as if experiencing their own, separate embarrassment at being so presented. All she knew was that the compression was enhancing their natural sensitivity, making every touch, every sizzling stab even more painful that it would have been otherwise.
After a dozen of the agonizing piercings, Carl took the remote and pressed the button again, reengaging the under-chair capstans so the cords at her knees pulled her body lower. Not much, but enough that she could feel the yawning lips of her vulva just touch the head of the man's turgid glans and lightly brush against it. The soft electric whine didn't stop until she could just barely feel his swollen head nestled up against her labia, rubbing against them, parting them, yet not quite penetrating. The most intimate genital fondling there was, yet without love, only lust. A sudden, large drop of clear fluid oozed from the tip of his penis, and both felt it. And both gasped, although for very different reasons.
Now Carl changed his attack. Both swollen globes, he saw, were now well flushed, a bright rosy-plum color. This, he knew, was indication of a much enhanced sensitivity. The girl's nipples were also bloating out from the small rings, their once pale pink hue now darker, more intense, almost angry looking. Yes, he thought, now it's your turn, my beauties, now it's your turn. Yet eager as he was to proceed, he also wanted to maximize her terror and started talking again.
"I must say that you are responding very nicely to this game, my dear." Carl's hands went up again to fondle the girl's florid jutting breasts once more. He smiled at the way even this gentle petting seemed to cause pain. He could feel the tiny raised bumps where the glowing needles had pierced them. Then he moved his fingers to the swollen tips. "I do so love my ladies' nipples erect, hard and sticking out." His hands cupped the oiled globes so his thumbs could brush the teats back and forth. Then he suddenly pinched them, viciously twisting and pulling, grinning at her muffled groan of pain. "Yours now, are standing up pretty well, but I think I can do better. I think they have the potential to be more." He paused in his speech, but not the nipple fondling. "I could use the pliers—they always work, so perhaps later. Then there are small vacuum cylinders, one for each—those force the entire pap full of blood, not just the teat. Turns the entire nipple into a puffy, an inviting condition for my play. There is also using a simple ice cube. Effective, but cold sometimes deadens the nerves. As you can imagine, that would defeat the entire reason I want them erect. No, for you, this time, I shall use my favorite method, piercing them with hot needles." He saw her head wrench up and back, horrified at his words. "Yes, nothing like piercing them with hot steel. That really makes them stand at attention, I can tell you." All the while, of course, Shannon could feel his erection twitching against her labia, shivering in shame, and the horror of how her vulnerability was bringing this sadistic fiend sexual pleasure. "Yes, the hot needles will do nicely, I think, but not just yet. Oh," he added, almost as an afterthought, "I think I can guarantee that what will come after will be even more excruciating because of it." Shannon shivered again at the cruel chuckle that accompanied these words.
The next shimmering needle went for the bulging left nipple, lancing quickly into the aureole just beneath the teat. Again there was the brief hiss of steam when the needle pulled away and the suspended woman tried to escape the hellish attack on her nipple. She emitted a high-pitched whine from under the gag at the agony, only distantly aware of the way the man's rigid penis was twitching against her slick labia. He was fiercely, powerfully erect. He felt more of his organ's intense arousal burst from its tip to lubricate its contact and moaned. He returned the needle to the candle flame. After a moment in the flame, he lifted the next needle and stabbed its tip into Shannon's distended right aureole, drawing another pitiable sob.
Over the next ten minutes, he pierced Shannon Whirry's poor nipples a dozen more times. The bulging pink disks gave testament to the hellish burning as a pattern of bright red spots across their surface. Mainly bottom and sides, because of his position, but he knew she wouldn't care about that distinction. From experience, he knew how to enhance even this cruel nipple torture by varying how long he chose to leave the hot needle inside her flesh. Some were mere tenths of a second, others left within for a full two seconds and it had almost cooled. Yet each and every one was a ghastly moment of suffering. And at every one, she could feel the man's throbbing glans rub across her sex, adding shame to the pain.
Carl finally decided it was time to consummate this most enjoyable game. He had come to understand the levels of his arousal and didn't want to end it until he was ready. So the next two were carefully and deliberately aimed at the rigid teats in their very centers. First the left, a quick dart in and out of the hard point with the inevitable burst of steam from it. Then the right teat. This time he left the sizzling hot lancet in a moment longer, reveling in the hideous sexual agony he knew it caused. Each time he could feel his prick jerk in pleasure from the combination of seeing her nude body tense with pain and his own glans rubbing against her slippery genital flesh. At their tips, the two once dainty pink tips had grown into hard, berry-sized buds, rigid, and aggravated to the point that the slightest touch to them would be unendurable. He had to take a moment now. He hadn't expected—hoped, certainly, but not expected—how exquisitely erotic seeing this woman's breasts and nipples under torture would be. Both mounds were swollen, bulging, the florid skin tight. Bright beads of sweat caught the light, each a separate point against the oily flesh. He even noticed how his breathing had sped up. Damn. Back down, he told himself, back down. Savor. These moments will never repeat themselves. So back down, ease up, and experience them to the fullest. The best is yet to come, after all.
Carl took almost twenty exhilarating minutes of delight burning the nipples, while Whirry's nude body squirmed above his hips. He found it difficult to stop, but had to remind himself that this was only an appetizer for the main course. A quick hand gesture had Marlene over. She loosened the back strap and pulled the steel-ring bra off Shannon's breasts. He felt his penis jerking up again at the way the two female turrets heaved and quivered on her deep rib cage at their new freedom. Take a breath. Take a breath. Savor.
Finally settled, Carl indicated that the ex-Stasi woman should take the remote. He held one of Shannon's hips while his other hand went up to her chest and rubbed her quivering bare breasts. Both were still slick with oil. When his hand was well lubricated he reached into the narrow gap between their loins and greased his tumescent penis, thrilling at the pang of lubricious pleasure even that minor contact brought him, astonished at how aroused he was. He was tempted to have Whirry lifted so he could burn her clitoris with a hot needle, but that, he decided, could wait for the next time. No, this would be better. Not this time. This time both of us will be focused on the pure sensations of her breast torture. Now prepared, Carl steadied her dangling body while his left hand held his hard shaft at the base to guide it between her labia. Marlene pushed the winch button and with an almost silent hum the young woman's body was pulled down onto the eager rod. Carl gasped with pleasure as his sex slowly penetrated up into her, deeper and deeper, the muscular inner walls grasping, until it was buried its entire length within. With each millimeter, Shannon's upper torso stretched further, limiting her ability to move and emphasizing her athletic body. Now he could see every rib separately straining against the skin of her heaving chest, pulling her belly in and accentuating the thrust of her naked breasts above. He reached up with one hand to fondle the globes again, relishing their peerless softness, the silky smoothness of their skin. With each, he took a final moment to pinch the rigid teat, harder and more erect from its recent cruel piercing, each wrenching a fresh whimper of pain from the lovely girl. He even added a little refinement, one he had learned that made the nipple fondling even more horrid for his captives: he lightly flicked the rigid teats back and forth with one index finger. The affectionate teasing, almost that of a playful lover only made the girl more embarrassed and horrified of what she knew was coming. Damn, he thought again, this is going to be good.
Carl settled back into the lounge chair and stared up at Shannon's heaving bare breasts. All was ready now, ready for one of his favorite diversions. "Begin, Marlene. Nice and slow. You know how I like it."
Whirry heard his words but didn't understand the intent until a moment later. She saw a quick movement to her side and then a searing line of pain sliced across her right breast, just beneath the aureole. "HUNNNNNHHH!" she grunted from beneath the gag. Standing behind her, the dark haired woman had taken a long, slim dog whip and slipped it around in a vicious horizontal slash so the last few inches could strike the tender curve. Her head jerked up to the ceiling, eyes wild. Now released from the constricting steel rings, the fresh resumption of blood flowing into the mounds gave her breasts an equally renewed—even enhanced—sensitivity. Laying beneath her, the man felt the impact as a sudden fierce spasm of Shannon's vagina that clutched and squeezed his embedded shaft. A moment later, one of Marlene's backhand cuts sliced across her left breast, this one less than an inch above the pink disk. Carl felt her vagina grip his embedded shaft once again, the muscles rippling up and down its buried length.
Carl now just laid back, content in Marlene's expertise. They had played this game before. The final pulling down of the young woman to capture his dick had the added effect of limiting her stretched body's ability to writhe free of it. She could twist, squirm, that was all, so limited that all she could do was enhance the man's pleasure with the involuntary convulsions of her vagina. So Carl just relaxed, the only thing on his mind to prolong his pleasure as long as possible. And there were few to compare with this he had found. Watching a nude young woman having her breasts whipped while he was fucking her. The unexpected crack of the whip, the wrench in response, and always the clenching massage of his buried penis to every agonizing stroke. Damn, it's good to be rich.
As the savage breast whipping went on, there was no preparation possible for Shannon, no way to anticipate the next pain. With Marlene behind her swinging the whip, there was only a quick flicker at the edge of her vision and then the sudden, sharp, ghastly line of pain across her out thrust bare breasts. After the tenth lash, Carl adjusted the strain on Shannon's body minutely, easing it slightly to allow her groin that smallest bit more freedom to ride further up and down on his buried shaft to enhance his enjoyment, yet not enough to lift herself free of the penetration. Satisfied, he leaned back again, eyes avidly watching as the thin whip swept around to caress the young woman's heaving nude globes.
Marlene was a master at her craft. The woman varied her strokes. A few slowly applied to the right globe, then a delay. One or two backhand to the left's upper curve, then three more rapid to the right. Then a long, drawn out pause, almost a full minute to add to the girl's fearful anticipation and give the man a chance to reduce his immediate arousal. Then three more so rapid that Shannon could only feel the accelerating pain. Marlene was sparing, but not oblivious to the nipples. Indeed, she had fine aim. Standing behind Shannon Whirry, she could just see the curve of the woman's breasts bulging out to either side of her chest. Enough, just enough to aim her strokes for maximal pain, never crossing the same place—except when desired—again to maximize the pain. Indeed, the way Shannon's arms were drawn up and back lifted the globes so their size wouldn't hide the more sensitive under curves from the whip. And those rare strokes that did find one of her nipples hurt all the more after the fiendish way Carl had lanced them with his glowing needles, never enough to kill the nerve endings, but to inflame, sensitize.
Shannon, for her part, was frantic. Gagged as she was, she could only suck in what air she could and expel it in inchoate whines. All she could see was the face of the recumbent and loathsome man beneath her, buried within her. A blurred movement, then a new, fresh, line of burning pain across her nude breasts.
Now, after twenty strokes, did Marlene vary her attack. The next slash was applied with a shortened movement, her wrist pulling back at the last moment so the sharp tip of the whip snapped into the delicate curve beneath her right arm where the tender mound first emerged.
"Heeeeeeeee," she squealed at the biting new impact. Carl, too, opened his eyes at this new attack. He felt a particularly fierce grasp of her vaginal walls on his penis and saw a tiny droplet of bright red blood appear in the delicate depression.
"Yes, my pet," he said, "That one cracked your skin. Hurts, doesn't it? It takes a real artist with the whip to cut the skin without leaving permanent scaring. Marlene is just such an artist. The other, Marlene, if you please," he said.
CRACKKT! Shannon squealed again when the braided whip bit into her left armpit, the tip once again cracking open the oh so sensitive skin there and creating a small new tendril of scarlet running down her side. Carl leaned back, briefly closing his eyes and lifting his hips just a bit to accentuate the erotic pleasure so concentrated in his loins. Opening them again, he allowed himself the added visual delight of taking in the bright red welts left by the whip across the milky skin of Shannon's bare breasts. Some, the newest were brilliant scarlet, others, slightly older already darkening, approaching plum and purple hues. The subtle difference in shade where the leather had kissed her pink aureoles was a particularly arousing enhancement. After being oiled, the globes were also gleaming in the bright morning sunshine. The rest of her nude torso, while not oiled, was still shiny with sweat from the exertion of enduring the hellish breast torture. "Her right nipple, now, Liebchen, make it bleed for me," he purred. SMACKKT! The skillfully applied lash flicked at the limit of Shannon's vision and then, with an expert snap of Marlene's wrist, the end exploded against the tip of her breast, cracking a tiny hole in the delicate skin at the base of the erect teat and producing a tendril of gleaming scarlet to ooze down. "UHNNNNNNNN!"
By the time the forty-fifth stroke had punished the young woman's breasts, Carl was near his limit. Both under curves, what he could see, were liberally striped by the thin leather whip. Even without specific instruction, a few of the overlaid strokes had sliced across already swollen weals and seeped glistening rivulets of blood. Several more had found the nipples which rose up even harder and bloated. When he had first discovered this delicious entertainment, he wouldn't have lasted half this long before he climaxed, but time and experience had allowed him to prolong it to ever increasingly lengths. He had even considered having one of his other captives suck him off before even starting this anticipated delight, but decided against it. No, go for it, he thought. Go for all the pleasure that enjoy Shannon's breast torture could provide. Like seeing her stripped for the first time, there was no thrill like watching them whipped for the first time. And no thrill like fucking her this way for the first time. No, better to fight the orgasm—a most delicious effort—than go cheap. And it wasn't as if he couldn't play this game again in future, after all. Still, there were limits. . .
"The strap, now, Marlene, it is time," he said, and laid back.
The dark-haired woman knew exactly what her employer meant. She, too, was surprised at his endurance with this one. She returned her slim whip for a three-foot long, inch-wide strap of supple leather. Then she took up a place just behind Shannon's hanging nude body and began this final stage of the terrible ordeal. Right, left, right, left, right, left, she swept her shoulders to swing the belt across Shannon Whirry's naked breasts from behind, forehand and backhand, only a second between each stroke. For the miserable girl, it was a new descent into sexual hell. Her poor tits, already burning from the torture of the hot needle piercing and the dog-whip, were now being relentlessly pounded across their broadest surfaces by a belt. Pain upon pain upon pain upon pain. She wrenched, wildly, desperately, against the bonds holding her above the man's loins. Her chest heaved as she fought for breath. Carl thrilled to the sight of her belly pulling in and the deep rib cage showing in high relief beneath the angrily discolored globes. While vaguely aware of the man's insistent penetration of her vagina, Shannon Whirry's entire existence was focused on the narrow expanse of tender skin on the front of her upper chest. The pain was intense, burning, every nerve of her proud bare breasts aflame with agony. The whipping would have been hideous even spread out, of course, but so concentrated on such a sensitive area made it intolerably worse. And then, also of course, there was the added horror of having the torture so directly applied to those most obvious physical declarations of her sex. Being nude and bound, helpless in the hands of a torturer, was bad. But being so vulnerable, knowing that her female body was being tortured for nothing but the erotic pleasure of this man, was truly hideous. That her suffering would only end when his sexual enjoyment was fully sated.
Carl, for his part, gave himself fully to the carnal excitement now. He laid back, eyes closed, simultaneously accepting the sensations and fighting their inevitable culmination. He opened one eye. Shannon Whirry's large naked breasts were swinging side to side to Marlene's relentless strapping inches above his gaze. Down between his legs, the young woman's hips were surging to the pitiful limit allowed by her binding. And all the while, with each and every slash, the slick walls of her vagina grasped and squeezed his aching erect penis, milking the shaft in the desperation of her agony.
Such sensations could not last, even fighting against them as Carl was. One particularly loud muffled squeal of pain was all it finally took. "HEEEEEHHH!" And Carl felt his loins explode. The muscles contracted, the surge burst from his base, and he felt the strong, hot eruption rise up though his shaft in a burst of sexual euphoria. Dear God! The ripples flowed up and through, as if his sex would explode. The man bucked his hips up and down, up and down, in unconscious reaction as he climaxed. Again, again, impossibly again, the liquid waves shot from his rigid penis. He had no idea how long it lasted. Finally he could only fall back, exhausted.
Marlene, well versed in these things, stopped her beating at the first signs of her employer's orgasm. She, of course, was the only one in control here now. Carl was consumed by pleasure, the Whirry woman consumed by pain. At last, the various groans and gasps subsided, and both primary participants relaxed into the somnolence their roles required, both now limp.
After a long several minutes, Carl returned to a very satisfied present. Above him, Shannon Whirry's nude body still hung, dripping sweat and shivering in agony, whimpering. From his position, the man could see how savagely discolored the bottoms of her breasts had become from the vicious whipping. Even as he looked, a bead of blood emerged from a cut on the left one to drop onto his abdomen. He felt that his penis, so recently hard as a bar of iron, had softened although still embedded within her, but the blood—and her continued vaginal spasms—created a new twitch of erotic pleasure in it. He idly considered attempting a repeat. Reaching another such orgasm would certainly be memorable, and require even greater stimulation now. But no, not with this one. The torture required would surely ruin her breasts, and possibly kill her. No, this one is a fine wine and one doesn't gulp. Yes, but the idea of another orgasm, as extreme as it would need be, was intriguing. Yes. So who? Monica? No, Melanie. That little bint's tits were still blistered and she would certainly use them and suck most energetically if she thought it would spare her more extreme torment. Oh yes, his mind continued, her enthusiasm will get me hard again and then I will have Marlene and Birgit tie her face up on the whipping bench. Nothing like fucking a bitch her while she is tortured to death. That final, exquisite grasp and spasm. Ok, now how? Whipped to death? No, not after this. Ah yes, the hot irons! That will last a good long time. He felt his prick tensing again at the thought. Anticipating. Eager. Yes.
He pressed the remote and felt Shannon's body rise up until his sex plopped free onto his thigh. He reached for a warm, wet towel to clean himself off and addressed his woman, "Marlene, Schatzi, return Miss Whirry to her cell and have the doctor care for her. You did well. I am pleased. Her tits suffered marvelously, but I still want them ready again for me in a few days. But I'm not done with you today. Take Melanie to the medieval room in an hour. I will join you there. Oh, and make sure the brazier has a good bed of coals burning and a full complement of tools heating up. I have an idea."
* * * * *
Three days passed, maybe four—Shannon Whirry didn't know. She could only lay on her cot, nursing the pain in her body and breasts, trying to comfort them even if the slightest touch still caused pain. She had heard the screams, of course, that day when they had returned her to this cell. Desperate, frantic screams. She recalled the man's words, vaguely, something about red hot irons. Some other poor wretch, tortured for his pleasure. Nothing she could do. Only rest, and whimper. A man had come that same evening, a doctor. He had examined her, clucking over the damage done to her breasts. He had applied a salve to them. It had helped. Although she was still aware enough that she had been sickened by the bulge she saw in his pants while he massaged the cream over her tits. Even this man of healing, she thought, took enjoyment from the pain of helpless young women. Then he gave her an injection, and she slept.
Now the door of her cell opened and Shannon Whirry saw the two German women standing there again. The doctor had come and she had been fed and washed, but unable to see the sun, time lost any reference. She looked down at her chest. A few faded marks, but her breasts were almost back to their normal creamy-white color. Seeing the two women, both smiling, all she could think was "Oh, dear god, no. Not again. What new horror now?"
"Up, bitch!" the dark-haired one, Marlene, the leader, barked, "Up! And put these clothes on. Have you no shame? You have rested long enough. Our master has finally received his special toy for you and he is eager to try it out." She grinned cruelly. "I have been looking forward to seeing it in use myself. Now up!"
Once again, Shannon was led to the sunlit patio, to her place of torture. This time they didn't make her strip herself. No, this time, as soon as she was there, the two women roughly husked her clothes apart, down, and away until she was nude, absolutely, helplessly nude. Terrified.
The women wasted no time. One constant since soon after her arrival had been the existence of leather cuffs locked around her wrists and ankles and the demeaning neck collar. Even when allowed clothes, alone in her cell, they had always been there. Now the wrist cuffs were attached to ropes above her, then two to the ankle cuffs. This time there was no motorized assistance, simple mechanical winches were employed to draw her naked body up and apart until it was suspended above the floor, her extended toes able to reach it. Splayed like a starfish and vulnerable.
She heard a sound and looked over her shoulder. There was Carl, this time wearing black leather pants, but bare above the waist, showing the musculature of an athlete. He walked around to her front, eyes aglitter with lust at the sight she presented. His hands went immediately to her chest, lifting, caressing, examining—evaluating. Finally satisfied.
Shannon heard movement behind her, but all of her attention was focused on the man standing before her. The immediate threat. But he did little, for the moment, but continue to fondle her bare breasts. He gestured to the women and now the device of her pain came into view on a small wheeled cart.
A generator, a power converter, really, using the electricity of the wall outlet. Half a dozen thin wires led from it—and one thick one. Carl reached back. Immediately, a thing was pressed into his hand. He held it up.
"Let me show you this, my dear. Yes, it's a whip—any fool can see that. But this is a special whip." He lifted it up before her face, so she could see it better. "You see these brighter strands in the thong and fall, the 'business' parts. That's .999 pure gold. I chose gold because it is a superb conductor of electricity. Pure silver is a slightly better conductor, of course, but my special guests deserve the finest money can buy.
"I had it made by a master in Wyoming. Quality leather workers going back to his grandfather in the Wild West. It cost me a pretty penny, I can tell you that. Hell, the gold wire alone cost over $20,000. The old guy didn't understand why I wanted it this way, but didn't ask any questions after I paid him $5,000 to braid it the way I wanted." He turned it again, admiring the play of light on the yellow between the black leather. "A masterpiece. You just can't beat old-world craftsmanship. . ."
Carl then lifted the handle up, where the thick cord ran. "This now, this little addition was all mine. I doubt even $5,000 would be enough to keep the old man from spreading too many tales had he been asked to include this little enhancement." Fascinated in spite of her fear, Shannon couldn't help staring. A thick black wire was grafted there, one that trailed from the whip and along the floor to where it was plugged into the same electrical transformer box. "Yes," he crooned, "Now you begin to see. I will attach electric leads to any part of your body I like—more than one, I think. Then, when I strike your body with the whip the circuit will be completed and the current will surge between the contact and the whip. I must confess, I haven't really had a chance to fully explore its efficacy or potential. You will be the first. You should be honored, but I doubt you will feel that way once we begin.
"Now how should we do that, hmm? Your belly? Your sides? Your underarms? All very sensitive. No, I have it. Since I am going to want to fuck you, I can't have your cunt wired at the same time." He chuckled. "No, can't have that. So I'll attach the electrodes there now, eh?"
"Oh, please, please," she blubbered. "Please don't hurt me again. You don't have to do this. I've done nothing to deserve this! I'm begging you. Pleeeeease."
Carl just chuckled. "Now we have been over that whole 'deserve' thing, pet. And it's not that I have to hurt you, it's that I want to hurt you. I explained that, too, although I can understand how that may have slipped your mind. No, this is going to happen, but you go ahead and beg. It adds to my enjoyment. Birgit!
The blonde approached with three of the wires. Only now did Shannon see that each was tipped with a small alligator clip. Carl knelt down before her. Taking one clip after another, he closed the sharp jaws about the plump left and right lip of her labia, each drawing a gasp from the splayed young woman. Then he carefully spread the lips to reveal the small pink button of her clitoris and fastened the last one so its jaws closed on that most intimate bud.
"ARRRRHHHH! OOOOWWWW!" Shannon wailed at this painful genital assault. "Oh, you fuck! YOU FUCK! DAMN YOU, DAMN YOU!" Carl just laughed. Just you wait, he thought. If you think this is bad, just you wait.
It took only a minute to attach the clips to her genitals. Then he stood back up and accepted the whip handle. He stepped back a bit and swept the whip's fall back behind him. "Turn it on, medium voltage, I think," he said, "I want her full attention for her introduction. If it works the way I hope, I want to have room to increase the current."
Carl heard the low hum of the generator. Now let's see if this is worth what I paid for it. He moved behind her, admiring the play of the muscles under her skin. He twisted his shoulders and swept the whip out and across Shannon's lower back, directly over the two demure sacral dimples.
The gilded leather struck with a loud crack. Shannon's nude body tensed in reaction, then a shriek exploded from her very soul. "HAAAHHHHHEEEEEEE! AHHHHH, GOD!" The impact of the whip striking her back was bad, but the contact closed the circuit and so the electricity ripped down from the whip to ravage the tender flesh of her cunt through the electrode clips.
Damn, Carl thought, this is even better than I had hoped.
Again and again, Carl swung the whip against Shannon Whirry's hanging nude body. Each he aimed at some different part of her back, from her athletic shoulders down to her clenching round buttocks, each stroke wrenching a wail of pain. By the tenth blow, he had gotten the feel of the cruel instrument, despite the different balance caused by the cable attached to the handle. He stepped to the side and took careful aim. The next was a slightly rising slash that came up from the floor to bite into the base of her left cheek where it met the upper leg, the tip curling around her tender inner thigh, just missing the wires hanging from her sex. "HEEEEEEEEEEEE!" She screamed. Already her skin was gleaming with the patina of perspiration, shining in the sunlight, and enhancing the bright red stripes left by the whip. Hmm, now there's something nice I hadn't thought of. The sweat will make her skin even more conductive for the electricity. He sliced her ass again. Her body writhed from the ropes and Carl noticed something new. The maddened wrench made her large breasts sway, exposing inviting bulges on one side then the other. He didn't even wait for her form to stop moving to pump his arm again and send the glittering lash across her back with a little added reach so it slipped around her arm pit and the tip attacked the dancing globe with a moist smack. The young woman's body tensed furiously and another shriek ripped from her throat.
Carl felt himself enjoying this novel whipping even more than he expected. He stopped for a moment to reach inside the leather pants and adjust his sex to ease the discomfort of an already swelling phallus. Time to get down to the best part, he decided. He handed the whip to Marlene and walked around to Shannon's front. She was gulping for breath, her beautiful green eyes wild. His gaze immediately fastened on the brilliant scarlet line that bisected her right breast, just beneath the pink disk. She gasped as he traced it with a fingertip. He was already able to feel the welt rising up. Oh, yes.
Carl stepped back a little. He waited until her breathing settled, wanting her to fully appreciate her situation and understand what was coming. After a couple of minutes, Shannon had regained most of her control. "Ah, that's better, pet. Now we're ready to proceed. I haven't nearly given your lovely tits the attention they deserve. But first, I want to prepare myself, too. After all, you are exposed, so it's only polite that I share your condition—to make you feel more like a guest, more comfortable, you understand." He reached down to the front of his pants. It was only then that Shannon noticed that there was a separate triangular patch there, held in place with black snaps. It took just a moment for him to peel it off and toss the wedge aside. Shannon didn't want to, but couldn't keep her eyes away. She glanced down, mortified—and fearful—of seeing the rising bulge between his legs. Now released, Carl's penis rose up, expanded, growing in anticipation of her torture. So, again, her future suffering would be dictated by that masculine organ. She would suffer until it was satisfied. Shannon twisted her head away, closing her eyes again in shame. In fear.
"There now, we're almost ready. I must say, though, that you have disappointed me and require extra punishment for that. Didn't I tell you during our last play session that I preferred my toys with erect nipples? Look at yours. Oh, they're sticking up a bit, but nowhere near what they're capable of. Well, I know how to fix that. Birgit, the pliers, if you please."
Shannon's eyes grew wide at Carl's words. Oh, no, no. "Please don't. Please. . . "
Easier to ask the sun not to rise. The blonde handed Carl the cruel needle-nosed pliers and he immediately lifted them to Shannon's left nipple. Its tip was already somewhat erect, so grabbing the teat within its jaws was easy. "Ah! Oh, no, no," she whimpered when the cold jaws closed around the tip. "Ah! Ah! Ah!" she cried as Carl pinched and pulled at the sensitive berry. He was careful. Experienced. Pinch and pull, always to the limit, but never, quite, enough to draw blood. Then he moved the pliers to Shannon's right nipple to repeat the process, squeezing and twisting irritate the teat and make it fill with blood. "Ah! OWW! Ah! No, no!"
Finally satisfied, Carl tossed the tool aside. Oh, yes, now these pretty pink nipples are sticking up right proud. Still, one last adjustment. He bent over to Shannon's crotch. The two clips attached to her lips were almost embedded, the jaws deep into the delicate, and now angry red genital flesh. Carl pressed the jaws hanging from the labia apart, and dropped the wire electrodes to the floor. He raised one hand and used one finger to brush across the girl's now livid puffy flesh, wrenching ever new gasps and moans of pain. It hurt, it hurt. Her entire groin felt as if it was on fire. Throbbing. Aflame. Then he focused on the sole remaining wire. Never had he seen a more bloated and angry clitoris. I can't do better with this placement, but I can make it more painful. So he popped the jaws apart, twisted them, and then reattached the sharp teeth to the sides of the clit previously untouched and let the wire fall. "AH! AH! AH!"
"The whip, now, Marlene. Hand it to me. Yes, good. Now you, Birgit, turn the electricity all the way up—just for a moment. I want to see what this baby can deliver." The blonde smiled as she turned the dial all the way to its highest setting. Carl could almost feel the fresh surge of potential in his hand. He cupped Shannon's left breast, lifting it to present the nipple. Then lifting the whip, he turned it so one of the golden strands approached the nipple. Before he expected, a quick blue spark lanced from the whip to the rigid teat.
"Heeeeeeeee!" Shannon screamed. Whoa, Carl thought. I had hopes, but this is even better than I could have hoped. He took hold of Shannon's right tit, lifting it to offer its nipple to the whip. SZACKKKKT! Another fast blue spark jumped the small distance between gold and teat. The girl cried out again. And as painful as the electricity afflicting her nipple was, the current always closed its circuit by flowing out through her bloated clitoris.
"Back to the middle, I think," he commanded. "Now let's see if my money was well spent." The dial was set and he stepped back and took aim.
SCRACKT! Carl swept the whip around in a horizontal cut to bisect her belly just above the hips. SCRACKT! Higher this time, carving the thin skin over her ribs beneath the heaving breasts. SCRACKKT! Again to the girl's abdomen. Shannon didn't want to scream, she tried not to, but the pain was just too much. There wasn't only the bitter sting of the leather impacting her skin, but every, every, lash sent a burst of electricity surging through her body and out through the electrode clip biting into her clitoris.
Shannon could only look on as this man took fresh aim at her nude body with the diabolic electrowhip. Her naked body shook, heaved, and writhed in pain. Carl, for his part, was relishing the game. Now exposed to the sadistic pleasures he so enjoyed, his penis bounced up to every stroke, hard and erect. Nothing more pleasurable than torturing a young wench with his cock bared to the sensations. A sudden gust of breeze came in off the ocean and he moaned with pleasure as it caressed his erection.
Carl's next slash went for Shannon's proffered nude breasts with a crisp horizontal cut, striking both just beneath the nipples. "AAAAHHHHHHHH! OH GOD, OH GOD, OH GOD!" she wailed. Carl waited only long enough for the heaving mounds to stop dancing then delivered another savage lash to them, a finger's-breadth above the pink disks this time. "AAAARRRRRRRRAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"
Carl now moved around her hanging body so the whip always attacked from a different direction to vary the pain. Lash followed lash, each punctuated by a scream of agony from the splayed nude woman. Carl varied his aim, striking her belly and abdomen, her thighs front and back, even slipped the tip around them to bite the tender inner flesh. In back, he worked down from her shoulders, paying special attention to Shannon's clenching buttocks. He swept four strokes vertically down over her shoulders, two to each side, so the very tips could kiss the bulging under curves of her breasts. There was plenty of fine female flesh available and the young woman's white skin showed scarlet stripes from neck to knees. And every lash, wherever it struck, not only tormented that spot, but also sent bitter electricity ripping through her clit. At each, Carl saw her bare feet clench and point down, like a ballet dancer en pointe, an unconscious movement that threw the muscles of her thighs and calves into high relief. A few strokes sought out her large bare breasts, but Carl was deliberately limiting his attention there, saving his favorite target for the finale.
After twenty-five strokes punished Shannon Whirry's body, Carl handed the fiendish whip to Birgit. She was clearly weakened from her ordeal, so he decided to allow her a chance to recover her strength before the finale. He first removed the electrode clip from the clitoris. He bent over to examining it. The once dainty pink bud was now a livid scarlet, engorged to almost three times its original size. Even as he watched, tiny beads of gleaming blood appeared from where the clip's teeth had bitten into it. He straightened up and walked behind her, moving in close, and reached around with his hands to cup her welted breasts. She was hanging at just the right height—a deliberate move—that he could slip his rigid sex between her trembling thighs. He fondled the breasts and slid it slowly back and forth across the silky labia. He felt, rather than saw, a large drop of precum emerge from its tip and shivered with the centered liquid sensation. Carl dipped his hips for the next pass so the clear fluid could further lubricate the slippery lips. He felt an exquisitely erotic thrill each time the hard ridge around the head rubbed up against the distended berry of her clit. Slowly back and forth he slid his shaft, all the while caressing Shannon Whirry's breasts. Damn, this was the finest kind of foreplay, he thought. I pity those who have never experienced this exquisite stimulation. Fools.
The young woman's quivering form was settling down—Carl could feel it. Shamed at this most intimate fondling, but physically recovering. She was still agonized from her ordeal, of course, but her vitality was proving her undoing. Carl drew his phallus back from her groin. He moved even closer, so its underside could slide up between the crack of her ass—a new, also deliberate sensation. He placed his head on her shoulder, so he could whisper in Shannon's ear. "Now, pet. I was going to keep up the whipping until I was ready to fuck you, but I am feeling generous. You have it in your power to spare yourself some pain. Just say that you will suck me off. Ask me for permission to suck me off."
Shannon had recovered enough to also regain her pride. "No. No, I won't. You're vile, disgusting. No, no I won't do it, I won't!"
Parker smiled. He was hoping for just this response. It was why he stopped the beating to let her regain her strength. He walked around to her front and lifted the whip before her face. He lightly slapped her to make her focus on it. "You see this?" He lifted it higher. "I had that master artisan weave the gold thread so that it never connected between the leather strands. A short circuit would defeat the purpose. No, that was why I sought that particular man out. See? Gold, leather, gold, leather. I like to plan ahead, to go with my inspirations. Now you will discover a refinement he couldn't begin to imagine." He lifted the butt of the instrument higher. "You see this? A simple switch. Left—what you have just felt—is when the whip is the anode and your body, the clips so recently on your lips and clit, was the cathode. Right—see how I'm moving it?—makes every other gold wire one of each. Each strand a circuit only a fraction of an inch apart. And this time I will have the voltage cranked up some. Certainly enough to keep your attention. Now. Last time. Ask me to suck my cock. Say, 'Please, Mr. Parker, may I suck your cock.' Say it!"
"No, no I won't. Do your worst. Fuck you, asshole! I will never, never do that. Never! Fuck you!"
"Good," Carl said as he stepped back. "I like my pets feisty." He moved to Shannon's right side, in front of her. Shannon's nude body, bound with arms and legs spread wide, offered an inviting target. Lush and lusty, her jutting tits were everything his desires could want. Now they were sitting up, high and arrogant, as if demanding his attention. Shannon looked, she couldn't not. Here was she, splayed, nude and open, and there was he, large cock hard and erect, swaying in arousal, sweeping the cruel whip back to settle it for his aim.
SCRACKKT! The tapered single-tail whip struck and curled around Shannon's belly. Carl always liked to introduce his victims to the potential pain before he went for the more sensitive parts of their bodies. Nothing like a dose of anticipation. "HUNNNNHH," Shannon grunted in response. The previous electrical torment had attacked one spot while simultaneously tormenting her genitals. But this, this was different, and no less excruciating. This time the current ravaged a small sensitive area a hair's-breadth apart, so the electricity was concentrated on just that little bit of flesh. And then there was the sting of the actual strike against her skin, a horrid pain in itself.
Carl smiled at her reaction. Oh, yes, this is fine, really fucking fine.
As before, lash followed lash. Rounded abdomen, tits, palsied concave belly, tits, ribs, tits, and then tits again. A few times he went back behind her, lowering the whip to the floor then sweeping it up in a fiendish uppercut between her thighs to explode against her gaping genitals. Every time there was the delicious smack of leather striking helpless female skin with the added enjoyment of knowing that the each and every one was enhanced by the electricity ravaging it. Lash and lash and lash, some rapid, only a second between, others only after a longer interval so she wouldn't know when it would happen. A few crossed to her body, shoulders, lower back, buttocks and thighs, but most sought out Shannon's heaving bare breasts. Already they were well striped with a variegated pattern of reds, plums, and angry purples where the strokes converged. Under other circumstances, Carl would have applied enough force to cut the fine skin, slicing it and drawing blood. Not much, but enough to accentuate the suffering. As harsh as the impact was, there was nothing like the ripping savagery of cutting the flesh, making her bleed to terrify a girl, but he didn't feel like doing that this time.
Shannon screamed again and again, consumed by the pain. Never in her short life had she even imagined that such agony could exist. Sharp bitter lines attacking her relentlessly, each accentuated by the ripping electrical current. Yet still she refused to break, to say what he wanted to hear, to ask to blow him.
It didn't much matter to Carl, of course. For him, this was the sweetest form of sexual foreplay. With every swing of his hips and shoulders to sweep the devilish whip against the nude girl's body, he felt a delicious pang of delight in his loins. Back again to full, turgid erection, his shaft danced to every new stroke. He could feel his excitement as ecstatic surges focused in his groin. He was no longer specifically aware of the sensation—just an extra component to his delight—but his leaping cock was oozing a steady stream of viscous fluid that burst from the tip only to fly away in a bit, pushed out by next drop. In addition to the sadistic pleasure he felt from sexually torturing a lusty young woman, there was the sight of her nude form writhing, a scene that would excite any man. Shannon's lush female body was gleaming in the bright sunshine with the sheen of sweat, a condition he knew that would add even more to the effectiveness of the current to ravage her nerve endings.
A lash to Shannon's abdomen. Now a stroke across her ribs. A step around for three rapid lashes to Shannon's lower back, buttocks, and upper thighs followed by three more between her legs to excoriate her sex and shock the painfully bloated clitoris. Each and every one punctuated with a screech of suffering. The young woman's convulsing nude body now decorated with dozens of angry welts, varying in color from the bright scarlet of the newest to a darker plum and mulberry of the earliest strokes. "The maximum now, Birgit," he ordered. "That should really make her dance!"
Now, with the electricity turned all the way up, Carl moved back to Shannon Whirry's side and went for her heaving naked breasts with a vengeance. SMACKKKT. SWACKKT. SMACKKTT. Again and again, the virulent leather snake caressed the tits. Carl varied his strokes, one rising to lift the globes, then one to the upper slopes followed immediately with one, carefully aimed, that found the very middle and pounded the rigid teats down into the paps. "AHHHHHH! AHHHH! OH GOD, NO MORE, NO MORE!"
But there was more—until she broke, there would always be more—and even after, he chuckled to himself. Smackkt. Just beneath the nipples. Smackkt. Another undercut to lift the mounds. Smackkkt. A bitter downward slash that skillfully punished just the right nipple, then another to find the left. Shannon's nude body was thrashing from her bonds at the hellish pain afflicting her defenseless breasts. Both had already taken dozens of cuts and the once white skin was now laid and overlaid with rising welts from the bright scarlet of the recent moment to the darker plum-purple of long minutes ago. Carl was deliberately limiting the final force of his blows. He didn't want to make them bleed, didn't need to. He knew that the pain of every lash was enhanced by the electric surge crossing the supple leather. Again to the heaving tits. Again and again and again, making them leap on her chest in a frenzied dance of agony. Now four caustic horizontal strikes, each one aimed so it bisected the large pink aureoles. Carl could almost see the bright sparks that announced the current savaging the tender flesh between. And again.
"NO! NO MORE! I'LL DO IT! I'LL DO IT! Just please, oh please, stop hurting meee!"
Scrackkkkt! a bitter cut to the right under curve. "Do it? Do what, bitch?" Scrackkk! This to left's side where it dipped into her armpit.
"AHHHHHHHHH! OH, GOD! I'll suck you! I'll suck your cock! Anything. Whatever you want! Just stop hurting meeeee."
Scrackkkt! Another level cut to punish both swollen nipples. "I don't hear sincerity there, pet! I want you to ask me! I want to hear you beg to suck my cock!" Scrackt, across Shannon's rib cage just where the breasts began their outward bulge, the tip biting into her tender side.
"AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH! Please, please, m-m-may I suck your cock! Please. I'M FUCKING BEGGING! Please let me suck your cock! Please. Just stop the pain. Please, please, please, please . . . " she ended with a whimper.
Carl dropped the whip. While he hadn't been focusing on it, he had been aware of how hard his dick was, how it was jerking up on its own, throbbing with delight, and oozing. Now, however, he let his concentration return to it, relishing the sensations there. "Take her down," he commanded his women.
Birgit and Marlene went to Shannon, first releasing her ankles. Birgit went behind and supported her body so Marlene could remove the ropes attached to her wrists. The blonde lowered her and Whirry collapsed in a heap to the floor of the patio, legs drawn up, hugging her chest and mewling in pain, her horribly welted nude form beaded with sweat in the bright sunshine. The entire hideous ordeal from her stripping to the final kiss of the whip, had only lasted a little over an hour and a half, so it was still just early afternoon.
Carl just stood there, legs spread, relishing the sight. He allowed her a minute, but only that, unwilling to lose the slightest bit of his intense arousal. "Up now, pet, up and over to me. NOW! If my cock should begin to soften, I shall have you strung up again and whip you some more!"
She looked at him and Carl could see the sudden terror in her green eyes. "No, oh no no no," she whimpered. "I'm coming. I'm coming."
He just stood, waiting, as she dragged herself over to him. Shannon grasped his legs and hauled herself up to her knees until his rigid penis was before her face. She gagged, briefly, then opened her mouth and took the hard shaft inside. She had given blow-jobs before, rarely, but only as an exchange of pleasure, with special lovers. This one was different. This time she was compelled by saving her body more pain than she thought possible. Shannon took the turgid head between her lips, bent forward to take its length on her tongue. Licked its underside. And sucked. Back and forth, she moved her head to swallow its entire length. Carl was larger than most and she tried not to gag again taking it all in. Her entire body was throbbing with pain, her breasts especially burning with the agony of their recent whipping. Giving pleasure was the farthest thing from her mind, but doing whatever she must to spare herself more suffering was paramount.
Mercifully, it was short. Carl's intense arousal from the sadistic whipping had brought him to the brink several times already. While an orgasm from just the thrill of torturing a girl, with no direct contact on his sex, provided a unique pleasure of its own, he didn't want that with Shannon Whirry—yet. Now he was glad he changed his mind away from fucking her and went with more intense sensation of a blow job. After barely five minutes in her mouth, using the tip of her tongue to caress the exquisitely sensitive frenulum and caressing his balls, Shannon felt his scrotum tighten, then the spasms as he ejaculated. Carl shut his eyes and groaned in ecstasy at the hot molten surges shooting up through his shaft. He grabbed her head, holding it tightly against his groin. She felt the semen fill her mouth and tried, really tried, to swallow the entire load, remembering poor Melanie's breast roasting, but it was just too much, and she just too agonized, so some of the milky cum dribbled from the sides of her mouth. Soon, the convulsive spurts subsided, but Carl remained embedded in her mouth, determined to experience every bit of sadistic passion. Finally, only when he felt his penis soften, did he pull it out. He took a step back and the tortured young woman crumpled to the floor at his feet, whimpering piteously. He accepted a warm wet towel Marlene handed him to clean off his dick and balls.
"I must say, Schatzi, I can't remember having a more enjoyable guest here. You and Birgit take good care of her. Tell the doctor that I will expect his best efforts with her. Tell him that I shall give him five days, a week at most, to fully restore her for the next play. I beat her tits pretty well, but didn't slice the skin so that shouldn't be a problem.
"Still, there's no good reason I should deny myself waiting until then. We just got another visitor, didn't we? A blonde runaway?"
"Ja," Marlene answered, "Carol Ann Schermer, all the way from California. She is a bit plump for your preference, but I think you will find her acceptable for an afternoon's diversion. Perhaps I could get out the breast mangle? Her Busen are certainly large enough to fit through the rollers."
"Yes, yes. It has been a while since I used that on a girl. Oh, and make sure there is a nice bowl of coals and some pokers ready. The way the mangle makes a girl's tits bulge is perfect for the kiss of red hot steel. I don't know if I will want to keep her around for long and it's always good to be ready to torture her to death should the urge strike me."
"Ja, mein Herr," she said. "It is always best to be prepared for anything."