Posted by Ripper X on July 17, 2003 at 21:05:11:
Howdy Gentle Reader. Our good friend Rathead sent me a story from one of his favorate authors that wrote under the name Woodburn, though I have modified it for content so if you go looking for more stories from this author then "beware." And remember kiddies "DON'T TRY THIS AT HOME."
Enjoy!
-RIP
The men were ushered into the underground room.
White Victorian arm-chairs with gold filigree and red-velured seat and back cushions, faced a small stage two steps above floor-level. Decorative baroque plaster swirls on the wall and ceiling, an ornate velvet curtain drawn shut across the stage and dark red carpeting, suggested a small-scale eighteenth-century opera theatre.
The room, despite its antique flavour, however, was lit in a soft glow provided by modern track lighting on fading switches.
The shaggy-haired blonde man who'd led them down the steps into the basement level and through the vault-like door into the theatre disappeared into the shadows.
After the men had stripped naked and donned black leather harnesses which crisscrossed their chests and studded hoods that covered the top of their heads with small slits for the eyes they paused before a black wooden wall panel to choose from a varied selection of wicked toys that hung from small silvery hooks.
The men did not speak to each other. There was no need to. They'd been here before and knew the rules well. They'd paid fifteen thousand dollars each for the privilege of attending this special place for this special event. Since it would be an illegal event it was best not to know who the others were. It was basically an unspoken rule to avoid all frivolous conversation and small talk.
Each visitor took a chair and sat facing the stage. All three were in their early forties, all obviously wealthy. They all had severe and serious faces. The kind of faces that got results in the business world, impenetrable, cruel.
Grant was a banker, Carver was in the electronics business and Kerr came from a long line of wealth in shipping. The black hoods which half-hid their faces now made them appear grim medieval executioners awaiting their victims.
Each man had chosen his favourite torture implement: Grant, a hard black leather riding crop; Carver, a thin wooden rod; Kerr, a short and cruel dog-whip with barb-studded tails. There was a soft rustle of cloth and the scent of cheap perfume as three half-naked young whores entered the room.
The sluts were excitingly voluptuous, an intrusion of colour in the restrained atmosphere of the room. Two blondes and one redhead. All had variations of the same small tattoo on their calves, a spiral of thorns and a goat's head, just above the ankle. They wore the kinds of costumes sluts wear for men they are paid to please. Corsets, black-stockings and garters, high-heel pumps, garish make-up. One blonde bitch had short hair, short like a man, and big hoop earings. The other blonde had long straight hair to the middle of her back and thick sensuous lips. The red-head had a luscious frizzy mane of hair, a ring through her nose, a stud in her tongue, visible as she smiled. She wore a tight leather outfit and no stockings. Her skin was slightly freckled and she had huge huge tits that strained against the low cut neck-line of her short and super-tight leather one-piece.
Even though the bitches leered seductively the visitors remained reticent, impassive, eyes slitted with sinister lust as they coldly studied the young whores.
Grant made his choice known first, motioning to the short-haired blonde. Kerr chose the red-head and Carver was left with the juicy-lipped blonde.
Each woman slid down to their knees, in front of the man who'd chosen her, as she'd been trained to do, now opening lovely red-, pink- and purple-painted slut-mouths not to speak a single word but only to take the semi-erect members of the customers with hungry moans. The whores had been taught under their Master's lash to suck cock extremely well and they bent to the task enthusiastically.
There was the noise of movement on the curtained stage. The gagged whining of a young female, the rustling of a struggle, the sounds of metal against metal, chains, a creaking wooden-mechanical sound.
Slowly, the curtain slid upward as the creaking sound continued and stage lights in the ceiling bathed the stage area in an eerie pale light as the house track-lights faded to near-darkness.
A beautiful young girl, who could have been no more than eighteen or nineteen years old, hung by her wrists, which were bound tightly together by a brown weather-worn leather strap and were being pulled slowly upwards toward the ceiling on a meat-hook at the end of a chain. The lovely little bitch was gagged with a large black-ball strapped around her head which snagged her long jet-black hair. Strands of her hair clung to her tear-streaked and panic-stricken face and to the moist skin of her upper arms. Her flesh in the strange light was the most lovely shade of cream, pure as fresh-fallen snow, and the men's cocks surged in response making the whores groan and suck them with new-found vigour.
"Beautiful," Carver hissed.
"Yeah," Kerr replied.
Grant merely grunted his approval, his half-closed eyes gleaming as he looked up at the stage. The blonde slid her lips around his now fully erect cock and he felt it grind against the back of her throat as she moaned and looked up at him hungrily.
The bound victim on stage who had elicited the first spoken words uttered by the tersely silent men that night had small budding tits, not yet fully developed but with the most alluring pretty pink nipple-buds which sprouted stiffly in response to the coolness of the room. The men hungrily consumed the suspended and helpless creature with their eyes noting the luscious swell of her hips and the excellently sculpted contours of her ass-cheeks as she spun in circles rising now to stand on her tippy-toes, stretched beautifully, her rib-cage well-delineated as she struggled for each breath.
From a door in the shadows at the rear of the stage a hooded man emerged. Like his clients, he too wore a leather harness that buckled across his powerfully muscular chest. Other than the hood, which fit tightly around the upper part of his head leaving his eyes, nose and mouth exposed, and the harness, he was completely naked and his cock was immensely erect. Around his neck he wore a gold chain and a medallion with a Satanic Pentagram engraved on it.
The men had often wondered if the hooded demon was Mr.B. himself, the man they made their arrangements with, although he could just have been a hired performer. It was undeniable that he was one of the most perfect specimens of manhood they'd ever seen. His penis was easily thirteen inches in length and it cleaved the air with an upward twist, almost a hook, which seemed perfectly designed for the most disastrous fuck a bitch could endure. Its effect on the young victims was always dramatic and the men were sure tonight would prove to be no different.
But before she would take the killer cock this little girl-slave would endure severe doses of physical torment and abuse, perhaps more than she could handle.
From the black-painted brick wall on the side of the stage the hooded man took a long wicked bullwhip which was looped around a metal peg. He unfurled it slowly as he circled his victim who watched him wide-eyed shaking her head and making pitiful dog-like noises in her throat. The long whip slithered along the wooden stage-floor following the torturer as he stalked his prey. It trailed behind him as he strutted around his captive, his bare feet padding on the creaking boards of the stage floor, he gradually slowing down, she swivelling, pirouetting on her toes to track him, her brows arched.
From their seats, as the three sluts now enthusiastically sucked and licked their cocks and their balls, the three powerful men watched as the hooded man stopped and raised his arm high.
The teenage girl made a screechy sound in her gag as the torturer's arm swept back and the bullwhip came up off the ground.
In the small confined space of the miniature theatre the swoosh of the whip and the loud report as it tore across both the young captive's thighs was dramatic. The girl's screech ended in a sharp squeal as she leaped in response to the flash-burn of pain across her strong creamy legs.
"Yeahh!" Kerr grunted gripping the head of the blonde whore before him to sink his cock in her gullet.
Already the hooded man was raising the whip again and the teenage girl was shaking her head pleadingly.
Grant took his short-haired blonde by her hoop earings and twisted her face up to look down into her eyes, her mouth full of his cock.
"I want you naked," He commanded hoarsely. "...Now..."
The bullwhip whooshed again and cracked across the teenage girl's waist.
As the girl wailed on stage Grant's woman rose up obediently on her knees smiling sluttishly, wantonly at him as she began to undo the clasps of her corset.
Carver meanwhile whipped his red-head's face with his cock then made her lick the full length of his shaft with her studded tongue. She had already pulled off the top part of her tight leather dress and was playing with her massive gold-nipple-ringed tits. She took his cock in her mouth to suck him and the sensation of the metal ball on the moaning slut's tongue as it grazed the underside of his hard-veined prick made Carver groan with pleasure and grit his teeth.
On stage, the hooded man circled around his victim and when she swivelled to follow him he shouted at her to stand still. She faced away from him unable to look back as he stood directly behind her and slightly to one side. He took aim on her shivering body. The bullwhip flew and thundered across her lovely young ass cheeks, twice, three times as she sobbed...across her back.. the tail wrapped around her middle...she twisted and writhed but held her position for her Master.
As a counterpoint to the whipping on stage Grant now grabbed his naked whore by her short hair, stood over her to slam his cock in her mouth and began to slice her creamy shoulders and back with the riding crop.
Kerr, too, stood now, the Victorian arm-chair against the back of his knees and as his whore wriggled out of her short black dress he swung the studded dog-whip down on her arms and back, she slavishly fucking him with her mouth and looking up into his eyes with endearing submission.
Carver used his wooden rod on the red-head as her pretty mouth slid down his shaft all the way to his pubic hair. He held her there, choking her with his cock while he drew thin red welts down parallel to her spinal column on either side of her exposed back, her cries of pain muffled, her eyes shut tightly.
"Turn around and face me, bitch!" the hooded man shouted at the suspended teenager.
Sobbing and whimpering the girl obeyed, slowly pirouetting on her toes to face her tormentor. He looked into her eyes licking his lips.
Behind him, the three high-powered businessmen fed their whores cock-meat while they slashed at them with their weapons. The suspended young girl could barely make out their figures in the shadows beyond the glaring stage-lights but she could hear the smacks of leather and wood on whore flesh and the responsive cries. Directly before her stood her hooded Master and the sight of him poised to attack once again, the blossoming heat of the welts across her back and ass and legs, the sounds of the whores being beaten and mouth-fucked...all of this fused together in her mind and made her young body tremble with dread and anticipation.
She had been kidnapped only one day before, dragged into a cargo van as she walked home from the university and brought to the mansion in the woods. A black man, the one who'd driven the van, and the other one, the one with blonde hair, had made their intentions crystal clear right from the beginning.
After tossing her into the van and slamming the doors shut they'd ripped off her dress and her underwear, her socks and loafers and they'd driven their hard fists into her stomach and into her spine slamming her down on the truck's metal floor amidst the shredded tatters of her books and clothing, gagging her with a piece of her bra. They'd raped her viciously and heartlessly and told her that from then on she was just a piece of girl-meat with no will and no voice. They hammered the point home with their big cocks popping her hymen and ass-fucking her, both of them at the same time, one under her, the other on top.
They brought her to the mansion in the woods and hauled her naked out of the truck, making her kneel on the gravel driveway, pissing on her then spraying her down with a nozzle garden hose like an animal, laughing at her, jeering. Then they'd dragged her into the house and into the opulent living room which over-looked the side of a wooded hill and an expanse of forest leading into mountains in the horizon.
There she'd been forced to her knees naked and dripping wet, her pretty hair in snarled moist strands across her face, before the hooded man, the Master, who sat comfortably in what looked like a throne wrapped in a black and gold robe, his chin resting in his hand pensively.
"Yes...excellent," he'd said softly after a few moments, his eyes slowly and voraciously examining her nakedness. She tried to cover herself but the two men, one on each side of her, pulled her arms apart, held her crucified on her knees for the Master's inspection.
"She will do quite well."
To the men he said: "Good work. I see you've taken your pleasure, gentlemen. I wouldn't mind giving the little cunt a workout myself right now but she's gonna need her rest for tomorrow."
So she'd been dragged into the basement and thrown into a window-less cell.
She'd screamed, banged on the metal door and begged to be let out but the hours had dragged on and no one had come.
She never remembered slumping to the ground in a corner of the cold chamber and falling asleep but she awoke to the blonde man's booted foot kicking into her ribs.
"Wake up, slut! Its time to play..."
The Master had come for her, yanking her up on her feet by one arm and forcing her toward the door.
Between the Master and the blonde man they'd dragged her up the steps into the darkened stage, pulled her arms up into the leather strap, gagged her and suspended her there.
She'd heard sounds beyond the curtain, moaning female voices.
Then the Master had turned the crank raising her up on her toes, the curtain had flown open and the whip had danced across her flesh with fierce fire.
And now her tormentor was raising the bullwhip again, and a hideous smile stretched his lips. She was in awe of the huge hooked appendage that rose from his crotch and cleaved the air and she knew she'd never be able to accommodate that monster inside her, even though she'd been split open by the raping in the van the day before. The idea of being impaled on that terrible member, confused and horrified her as the lash rose up into the air once more.
"Flog the little slut!" Grant shouted.
The bullwhip flew, whistled sharply, cracked loudly across the teenage girl's soft tits.
She shrieked, her head flying back, one leg kicking up.
The pain of the whipping was worse than anything she'd ever experienced. Especially on the tender skin of her young little titties.
"Yeahh!" Carver grunted.
"Both feet on the ground!" The Master shouted at his captive angrily.
She obeyed instantly.
Again the bullwhip flew. Again she reacted, helpless, her eyes spilling tears, her teeth biting into the rubber gag as the harsh leather smashed across her sweet nipples.
Again her right leg flew up defensively, involuntarily and she tottered on one foot.
"Goddamn you, bitch!" The Master raged. "I said keep BOTH FEET ON THE GROUND!!"
"Tell ‘er!" Kerr snarling. "Tell ‘er. ... show ‘er who's boss. Show ‘er!... the fuckin' little cunt..."
Angrily the Master grabbed a coil of wire from a table on stage and went to the whipped teenager. Going down on one knee in front of her he wound the wire tightly around both her ankles as she stood on her toes. He wound the end of the strand to a metal eye-hook bolted in the floor behind her feet. Then he paced back to where he'd been standing and unfurled the bullwhip.
"Now you'll keep those legs still, you little fuck," He growled raising the lash.
Grant, Kerr and Carver watched the Master attack his young victim with vicious zeal laying his lash into her full strength. The three men momentarily ceased the punishment of their own sluts to watch the delicious cruelty that took place on stage.
Eyes glaring angrily behind his hood the Master raised the lash and swung repetitively, slicing across the nineteen year old girl's abdomen and tits, wrapping the thick braided bullwhip around her quivering body, around her pretty thighs and legs, sending the whooshing leather tongue out to take hot bites of the sobbing little bitch. He was an artist with the lash winding it around her slender waist, flicking her nipples and trimmed pussy mound, whipping the tops of her pretty feet, her knees, even occasionally her gagged face, making her leap and jerk erratically to the unpredictable slashing rhythm.
The men all stood now, their whores half-naked kneeling before them with mouths full of cock, slut-faces looking up defeated, willing, eager to please.
Under the terrible whipping the teenage girl began to make shrill animal noises as the lash thudded into her, tore her pretty skin off in little bursts, left dark mottled bruises across her chest and ribs and belly.
"Kill ‘er....kill the little scumbag..." Carver snarled almost to himself mesmerized by the show the Master was putting on.
All three hooded men watched from the shadows, watched greedily the destruction of the young helpless girl at the hands of the brutal torturer. This is what they'd paid to see and they were getting their money's worth. They fucked the mouths of their kneeling whores and urged their hooded demon Master on as their hips thrust their cocks into the faces of the three bitches, now and then pulling back to slap them across the face hard and slam their pricks back into their mouths, gripping them tightly by the hair to hold them in position. Grant reached down to clamp his hand over the short-haired blonde's nostrils, filling her mouth with his cock and watching her struggle to breathe. She tried to take his hand away but he ordered her to keep her hands behind her and she obeyed, her face flushed red as she gasped for air. Kerr flogged his sultry bitch's sloping shoulders and sides, her plump boobs, with the studded dog-whip welting her while she lovingly licked the crown of his dick. Carver's red-head masturbated, both her hands massaging her pussy as she hammered her head back and forth on her owner's cock, eyes fixed on his face above her, she moaning and squealing each time his harsh wooden rod sliced down across her back, or the sides of her fat thighs.
The violence in the small theatre slowly escalated.
Blood trickled down the teenage girl's bound legs from many small cuts where the lash had torn the skin open ... The sight of it only made the Master flog her more vehemently, his lips twisted in an expression of unrepressed lust. Grant slid down to the floor to push his whore on her back across the carpeted floor and slam his cock up into her slimy hot cunt, to fuck her while he watched the action on stage occasionally slapping his slut's face or swatting her sweat-sheened, heaving tits with the riding crop. Kerr made his whore crawl in circles around the small room flogging her back and sides with the studded lash, her pierced tongue lolling as she squealed with pain... he kicked her too, every now and then making her stop to suck him or to take his prick up her tight asshole as he sliced her back with the dog-whip. Carver had eased back down into the armchair to pull his lovely blonde slave down on to his shaft making her ride him while he punished her tits, her thighs, her back with his rod which whistled sharply as it struck.
On stage, the Master now went to the intercom on the wall and pressed the talk button.
"We're ready," He said tersely. He coiled the bullwhip and placed it back on its hook.
Then, going to the table backstage he picked up three steel objects and walked back to his victim.