10 comments/ 49573 views/ 17 favorites A Crack in Time Ch. 01-02 By: smy3th Chapter 1. The package came by messenger, just before 6:00 pm.. Susan threw a robe on over her t-shirt and panties to answer the door. She was not expecting a delivery. She signed for it and carried it to the kitchen counter to open it. She looked it over, wondering who had sent it. There was no return address and no markings to tell her what it was. It was about the size of a shoe box. She hefted it, shook it gently. It weighed about five pounds or so. Very curious now, she cut the brown paper off. Inside was an unmarked but apparently antique wooden box with brass corners and hinges. She opened the catch and lifted the lid. Packed carefully in crushed paper she could see a wine bottle, a cut crystal wineglass, and what looked like a CD or a DVD. An engraved note card was on top with her name printed on the front. She opened the card. It said: "From your secret lover "Susan, At 8 o'clock this evening, please open this bottle of wine, pour yourself a glass of this wine, drink a glass slowly, pour yourself a second glass, put the DVD on to play, and sit down in a comfortable chair to enjoy them." There was no signature. Susan picked up the wine bottle and read the yellowed label. The label was hand lettered in calligraphic printing. It said, "Chateau Rothschild, 1549. Was the bottle really over 450 years old? Could it be? She set it down carefully and picked up the DVD. It had no markings, either on the jewel case or on the disc. Susan was amazed. Her "secret lover" she assumed must be that fellow, John, with whom she had been exchanging erotic e-mails. He had called himself that several times. But she had never given him her full name or address. If that was really who it was, how had he found her? Had he been stalking her? She shivered. What should she do? She went to her computer, sat down, and wrote him an e-mail, asking if he had sent her a gift. She knew he was not normally at his desk at that time of day. She did not get an immediate response. She fixed herself dinner, reading some fantasies online. She wasn't sure what to do about the wine and DVD. Just before 8:00 she got up and took another look at the wine and the DVD. Finally, she thought, "Oh, what the hell. What harm could it do?" She got out a cork puller and screwed out the cork. The cork was obviously old. She poured a glass. She sniffed it. It smelled very nice. She took a sip. It was delicious - maybe the best wine she had ever tasted. She sipped some more, savoring the delicate flavor. Sipping it, she opened the DVD case, turned on her DVD player, and inserted the disc. She poured another glass full of the wine, and taking the remote, sat down on her love seat, tucking her legs under her. She pushed play. Baroque music began playing. Patterns of colored lights began flickering on the TV screen. Then a voice began speaking. She immediately recognized John's voice. His voice was deep, gentle, soothing: "Good evening, Susan. I'm sure this is a surprise for you. Please let me explain. I am not who you have supposed. You are about to take a trip. You are about to travel through time. You don't yet believe that but you will soon. Relax. You need do nothing. Everything is taken care of. Are you feeling all right so far, Susan?" Actually, she was feeling very tired. He eyes were drawn to the flickering patterns on the screen, but she could hardly keep them open. She felt strange, almost faint. She thought, "Am I drunk? Already?" She set the glass down on the end table without taking her eyes from the screen. She sensed the room going dark around her. She felt as if she were floating. The room went out of focus. She sensed the passage of time dimly, like a night that passed in dreamless sleep. She began to wake. She was bouncing around on an upholstered bench seat of some sort. She felt totally disoriented. She tried to steady herself with her hands, but they were bound behind her. She opened her eyes. Puzzled, she tried to figure out where she was. She was inside what looked like a carriage. The moonlight was shining in through windows at the sides. She could hear what sounded like horses galloping in front of the carriage. She was alone in the carriage. The carriage bounced as if on a rutted dirt road. She shook her head. She must be dreaming. The carriage went round a corner causing her to slide to one side, bumping the side of her head against the window. It hurt. If this was a dream, it was the most vivid dream she had ever had. She looked down at herself. She was still wearing just the t-shirt and pink panties she had on in her living room. She could feel something around her neck. It seemed to be a leather collar. She looked out the window. She was indeed rolling along a dirt road through a forest. As she stared, the trees ended, and she saw thatched stone houses, dark in the moonlight. They passed what looked like a quaint old Inn, not slowing or stopping. The name over the door appeared to be in French. Past the village, she saw what looked like a huge stone castle looming above it. . The road turned straight toward the castle, which appeared to be several hundred yards away. They passed through an arched gate in a wall and into what appeared to be the castle grounds. A row of trees bordered the roadway or drive that was apparently going to the castle. The carriage approached the castle, the horse slowing to a trot. The carriage rumbled across a wooden bridge over a moat, and then they passed through a large gate into the castle itself. It darkened as they went through a stone tunnel, emerging into a large courtyard, with stone walls all around. There were a number of men standing around in the courtyard, apparently soldiers. They were wearing belted tunics, woolen breeches, swords in scabbards, and leather helmets. The horses slowed to a walk. The carriage crossed the courtyard, and turning, came to a stop with Susan looking out the right side of the carriage at an entry passage that went inside the back side of the castle. She heard the driver speaking to the horses, and then heard him climb down from the driver's seat. The carriage lurched a little to the left as he climbed down that side, and then sprang back. He came to the door on that side. Opening the door he looked in at her, grinning lewdly at her scanty clothing. She shrank back against the right side of the carriage, fearing he would try to get to her. She huddled there, pressing herself against the side, as far from him as she could get. Suddenly, the door beside her opened and rough hands grabbed her from behind. She was pulled bodily through the door and placed barefoot on the dirty cobblestones of the courtyard. She turned. Three large soldiers were right behind her. They were well over six feet tall, muscular, wearing the tunic and breaches uniform of all the soldiers in the courtyard. Susan's legs were shaking. She had no idea where she was, how she had gotten there, or if this was even reality. Surely it must be a dream. She shivered, party from fear and partly from the cold night air, with her wearing virtually nothing, standing in front of these men. The three soldiers laughed down at her, eyeing her hardening nipples sticking out against her t-shirt. One of them spat to the side, then took hold of Susan by the waist, hoisted her up, and threw her over his shoulder like a potato sack. She screamed. She felt her bottom sticking up in the air, knowing her thin panties were exposing more than they were hiding to the soldiers standing around in the courtyard. One of the three soldiers gave her bottom a smack, and the three men laughed heartily, making some sort of laughing comments to each other in a language that sounded like possibly French. The third soldier opened the heavy wooden door in front of which the carriage had stopped and led the way in. She was carried through the door into a stone passageway lit by smoky torches in sconces along the wall. They walked in single file, the soldier in the middle carrying her. They passed several doors, all closed, turned a corner, and continued for many feet down another long torch-lit passage, coming finally to an open door at the end of the passage. The soldier carried her into a large room, and the second soldier closed the door behind them, throwing a heavy bolt into place. The soldier carrying her set her on her feet again. She looked around. The room was lit by candlelight from chandeliers over head and wall-mounted sconces. Several tables in the room also held candles of various sizes and shapes. She felt the soldier clip something to her collar, and then she felt her collar pulled upwards, forcing her to her tiptoes, preventing her from trying to run (as if there were anywhere she could run to). He turned her around, facing away from him and toward the opposite side of the room. About fifteen feet away, where there was an ornately carved door. To her left, at the end of the room, there was a huge fireplace, with a fire crackling in the grate. Directly in front of her was a vertical rectangular wooden frame. It was a complete rectangle, fitting between two heavy posts that went from floor to ceiling. There appeared to be a pivot halfway up. She felt her wrists being unbuckled from the strap that had been binding them behind her. Two soldiers each took one of her wrists, while the third – the one who had carried her in -- picked her up as easily as before, his huge hands nearly encircling her waist. He lifted her up into the frame and the other two soldiers stretched her arms out to the top corners, where her wrists were buckled into leather cuffs attached there. The straps holding the cuffs were then cinched tight. The two men then each grasped an ankle and similarly pulled them down and widely apart, where they were buckled into cuffs at the bottom of the frame. She was now stretched out tight, spread-eagled in the open frame. Her weight was supported partially by her feet on the bottom of the frame and partly by her outstretched arms. Already she was feeling the strain from this tension. She hung there, confused and afraid, stunned by this weird turn of events. The rope was then unclipped from her collar. The soldiers attached a wooden bracket to each side of the frame at the pivot points. These extended out toward her waist. The soldiers made some adjustments and the brackets were extended to just touch her waist. Then a heavy leather belt was threaded through eyes in the brackets and completely around her. She felt it being cinched tight around her waist, and buckled, holding her rigidly in place; she could not sway forward, backward or side to side. The soldiers then stepped back and surveyed their work. As though to test the apparatus, one of them reached up to the top of the frame and pulled it down and back. The heavy frame rotated backwards and Susan, bound into it, spun with it, head down, then up, then down again The frame continued to spin and the girl rotated with it, much like a piece of meat on a spit. To Susan it seemed the room rotated dizzily. She soon lost her sense of up and down, and her stomach became uneasy. For all its weight and size, the frame rotated smoothly and noiselessly. The three soldiers laughed as Susan spun round and round until, finally tiring of their play, they slowed the frame's movement and let it come to a stop. They returned her to a vertical position. Then they ambled to the fireplace end of the room and sat on benches there. They did nothing more other than to watch her, talking in low voices and grinning at her. Susan was now totally terrified. She was captive to some sort of strange scheme. Surely it must be some sort of costume party prank by her friends, but it was so elaborate she could not imagine how they could have done it. She struggled in the cuffs to see if there was any chance of getting free, but there was no play in her bindings; they were unyielding. She was nearly naked, strapped in this crazy frame, helpless, a little nauseous, in some weird place seemingly in medieval France. Wherever she was, it certainly wasn't Disneyland; more like somewhere down Alice's rabbit hole. Aside from the slight stomach distress, she now realized she also had to pee. Fear running to terror had dominated her mind for the past half hour, but in this sudden lull the urge to pee rose to command her attention. Her arms ached from holding her up. Her legs ached from being stretched apart. She began to weep. She called to the soldiers: "Please, let me go. Why are you doing this to me? Please let me down. What do you want from me?" The soldiers did not appear to speak English. They laughed and chatted among themselves in their French dialect, but did not respond to her directly. She hung there for what seemed like forever, but was probably only five or ten minutes, sobbing quietly in fear and pain, and trying to suppress the urge to empty her bladder. Suddenly the ornately carved door before her swung open and a man walked into the room. He was tall, well built, and well dressed. He was obviously not a soldier. He wore tight breeches, a tightly tailored cutaway coat, and a frilled white shirt. He had a white handkerchief in his breast pocket. He was perhaps in his middle 50s lightly graying, but still clearly in strong and vigorous health. His shoulders were broad, tapering to slim hips, and muscular legs evident in the tight breeches. He did not have the hugely muscular build of the soldiers, but more the long-muscle build of a swimmer. He had a gold pin on his coat and a gold buckle on his belt. He smiled broadly when he saw Susan in the frame, and walked over to her, his intense green eyes staring into hers. Then his gaze swept down and back up her body, taking in the tone and length of her arms and legs, her near nudity. Finally, his eyes returned to look at face, which he searched carefully. He pulled the handkerchief from his pocket and carefully wiped the tears from her cheeks. He then brushed her tousled hair back from her face. Finally he spoke, in English, a voice she knew. With a shock she recognized it immediately, though she had never seen his face. She knew who he was, even as he spoke in that velvety smooth and charming voice: "Welcome, Susan. I am John, your cyber lover. You recognize my voice, don't you? Yes, I can see that you do. I'm so very glad to have you here. You must realize that I went to considerable trouble to bring you to me. I have so been looking forward to meeting you, in the flesh." Susan was shocked nearly speechless. How had John even found her? How had he arranged this overly elaborate setting? She had thought he was just some nerd engineer from California, but obviously he was something far, far different. Despite, or perhaps because of, her panic, she felt a clenching in her core and tightening in her nipples from knowing she was helpless before this lover she had known only online, but with whom she had shared some of her most intimate secrets. "John!" she said. "Who are you? Where am I? What is going on? Let me out of this frame? Why do you have me bound like this? Please let me go!" John replied: "I'm sorry Susan. I won't be letting you go until I have gotten what I want from you." With that, John turned to a table at one side of the framework, and picked up a large knife. He stuck it under the collar of her t-shirt. Susan screamed in terror: "No, please, no! John ignored her screamed pleas, and in one smooth motion, swept the sharp instrument down the front of the shirt, nicely cutting it open. The shirt front fell to the sides, partially exposing her breasts. He then sliced through each of the sleeves, cutting the shirt entirely from her body. Picking it up, he threw it toward the three soldiers. One of them picked it up and tossed it into the fire. John stepped back, surveying Susan's breasts, her gasping breaths causing her breasts to heave. He stood there for a long moment, just staring at her breasts, examining them with rapt attention. They were indeed very lovely breasts, as she well knew. He had seen a photo of her before, and had expressed to her how perfect he had found her breasts, her nipples, her whole body to be. That body now gleamed in the candle light from the sheen of perspiration that coated her skin "Susan, you are completely beautiful. The photo did not do you justice. You are lovelier than I imagined." She sobbed at him: "John, why are you doing this? Please don't hurt me. Please let me go now." He set the knife down on the table and came towards her. Reaching out his hands, he took a breast in each hand, gently touching, cupping, holding them, running his hands over them, and gently massaging the firm-soft flesh. Susan felt shivers running down her body. She felt her nipples ache. She felt the connection between her breasts and her lower belly, causing aches inside her as well. She trembled from head to toe. She began attempting to keep her body from responding sexually, as it did involuntarily. Practically weeping now, she again begged to be released. To which John replied: "I fully expect you to beg for release very soon, but not yet" John picked up the knife again. This time, he put the tip under the waistband of her panties at her right hip, and with a swift motion, sliced the side of her panties. Repeating this on the left side, the panties fell to the floor beneath her, baring her shaven, hairless sex. Once again he stepped back to admire her body, this time fully exposed to his view. His gaze traveled leisurely over the whole of her, drinking in her naked beauty, and finally focusing on her shaved pussy, now lewdly pulled open by her bound posture. Susan struggled to cover herself, but she was held fast by her bindings. All she could do was hang there in embarrassment as he drank his visual fill of her. John tilted the frame back, leaning her backwards, and bringing her pussy up towards him. He tilted her back only about 30 degrees, just enough to raise her cunt to a level that let him see into its full length. Her legs, spread painfully wide in the frame, pulled her pussy slit open, baring her interior to him. He touched her. She gasped, his touch like an electric shock. He cupped her pussy. He stroked it gently. He opened the lips, a curious expression on his face. He touched her wet opening, causing her to jerk and twitch within the limits of her bondage. He gently probed near her now engorged clit, causing more juice to seep from her, the warmth spreading. She felt a flush all over her body, not a flush of embarrassment (though she was certainly mortified to be exposed and touched like this before the eyes of the strangers by the fire) but the flush of arousal. The pressure in her bladder however was becoming unbearable. The pain finally overcame her reluctance and shame at asking to pee: "John, I have to pee, really, really bad. Please let me out so I can go to the bathroom." John laughed: "My dear Susan, let me just tilt you forward a bit, and you can pee right where you are. There is a drain in the floor beneath you. Just let it go." And he tilted the frame forward through the vertical and about 30 degrees the other way, so her opened pussy was pointing at the drain she could now see in the floor. "John, surely you don't expect me to pee right her in front of you and them," she cried, indicating the staring soldiers with a tilt of her head. "Susan, I have brought you here to reveal every intimate secret to me. You already have nothing of your skin left to hide, and soon, you will have no secrets from me of any sort. I will know you inside and out. You may as well begin by taking a piss for me." She couldn't. Much as she was in pain, the pee just would not flow with him watching. John said: "Susan, you WILL pee for me, and you will do it NOW." And with that, he drew back his right hand and slapped her left breast sideways with the flat of his hand. Susan yelped from the blow. The pain was incredible. She thought her breast would burst open. The shock of the pain caused her to lose control of her bladder, and the stream of piss gushed out of her full force. The pain in her breast was balanced by the almost orgasmic release of her bladder. A Crack in Time Ch. 01-02 Chapter Two. John watched her gushing release of pent up piss. "You see, Susan, how I have control of your body – how I can make it do whatever I want it to. I can control you in ways have never imagined. Let me show you how this frame gives me total access to your body." He tilted Susan backward with the frame, and as the bottom rung came towards him, he stepped over it, between her outspread legs. He rotated her to a horizontal position, flat on her back, but suspended in midair, her head hanging down backwards. He was right between her legs, at her exposed sex, which was still dripping the last drops of pee. He examined her closely, spreading her cunt lips. He touched her private entrance, gently circling his forefinger just at the opening. Susan could feel her pussy responding, against her will, warming, tingling, and moistening. She hated that her body was responding to him like that, but yet, it felt good. But he had no right! "No, John, please, you mustn't. We were only lovers in fantasy, not in reality. You cannot just take me like this. Please, let me go." Instead, he took his forefinger, wet with her juices, and traced up her pussy to her clitoris, now beginning to swell. He touched just around it, not on it, just above, below, to the sides. Involuntarily, her clit began wanting to be touched, throbbing. She began to wriggle in her bonds, not sure if she was trying to get away from his finger, or to get towards it. He stopped touching her. She felt both relief and frustration. John pulled his hand back: "Ah, Ah, Ah. Not yet, my pretty one. You are getting eager, aren't you? All, in good time, my dear. All in good time. You haven't yet even seen all the interesting positions I can put you in. You do notice don't you that your nicely exposed, open and unprotected cunt is right at the perfect height for me to fuck you. Would you like that? "No!" She cried. "I've never even met you before. What kind of beast are you? Let me go!" Ignoring her objections, he raised the frame member behind him, bringing her exposed wet pussy right up to his face. Practically talking to Susan's cunt John said, " For instance, here's a nice position." Susan had never felt so exposed and vulnerable before. She was tilted backwards about 30 degrees from the horizontal, her head down and her legs up and spread. Her very private parts were lewdly displayed at eye level to this man she had never before met. She was totally helpless to stop his intimate lascivious inspection, or anything else he might choose to do to her. knowing it was futile, she still could not resist struggling in the restraints, trying to back away or to close her legs, but the struggles only resulted in a lewd wriggling. Susan felt John's warm breath on her moist pussy as he observed it closely. She felt his finger spreading her cunt lips apart. She shuddered all over, though for what reason, she was not entirely sure. She could feel herself getting wetter, the warmth and tingling spreading. She had imagined fantasies like this, finding them highly erotic, masturbating to them, enjoying the fantasies with cyber lovers and had even played games about such fantasies with her real life lovers. But being brought to this unknown place by this near stranger entirely against her will, and restrained and exposed despite her pleas, with no "safe word" to use to stop it, was something entirely different This was real! She had no idea whether he would ever let her go, or whether she might even be killed. Still, she could not deny her body's automatic responses to this fantasy fulfillment. Despite her fear and unwillingness, her pussy was starting to ooze, which John of course could see very well. "Susan," he said, "you have just a little drip left here from peeing. Let me clean it off for you." She felt the tip of his tongue very delicately touch the opening of her urethra, licking up the urine residue. Her cunt oozed some more at the erotic touch of his tongue. Susan wondered again if he would kill her when he was done with whatever fiendish torture he had in mind. The fear caused goose bumps to form all over her body as she shuddered thinking about it. John saw the goose bumps: "Susan, my darling," he said, "what thought was it that caused those goose bumps?" She did not know quite what to say. John said: "You see now Susan dear, this is just the reason I have brought you here and put you at my mercy in this way. I want you to tell me all your secrets – all the things you held back from my in cyber land. It works very simply you see, Susan, if you tell me what I want to know, you will be rewarded. If you do not, or if I doubt your complete honesty, you will be punished. This frame can provide both great pleasure and great pain. You will experience both. You will experience them to the point that you will no longer have any need to hide your thoughts from me. You will truly tell me everything that is in your head. Now, since you did not answer my question, you will experience the result" With that, he picked up a leather strop from the nearby table, and brought it down hard, with a SLAP squarely between her outspread legs, directly on her exposed pussy, laying the strop right along her pussy lips from cunt to mons. Susan's body convulsed in pain. She lost her breath in shock at the searing swat across her delicate genitals. Just as her breath was coming back, another SLAP in the same place hit her, this time causing her to scream in agony. As she was trying to speak, a third WHACK of the strop on the now reddening and sore spot, across the lips, into the pink gap, up onto the ultra sensitive clit hood, and hitting her mons, caused her to scream again, her body convulsing in pain. After the third whack, there was a pause. In the pause, Susan managed to gasp out some words: "Please stop. No more. Please, I'll answer. Just please, please stop." John, just watched her delicate flesh, red welts rising. "Ok, that's enough to give you just a taste. Now tell me, what was the thought that caused your Goosebumps. And I can tell from your body if you are telling the truth." Susan, began to weep. In sobs, she gasped out the answer in trembling words, revealing her thoughts. "I was wondering if you are going to kill me when you are done torturing me." Carefully, John listened to her sobs, her voice trembling. He watched her body, the goosebumps returning. "Yes, I can see you are telling the truth. So now you see, you have no choice but to reveal everything I ask of you. I will bare your sole as I have bared your body. Now, you get the other side of it. Since you have chosen to open your mind to me, you will get the reward." With that, he put his finger on her weeping cunt hole, and began making gentle circles. He coaxed out more and more of her secretions, until it was flowing down into the crack of her ass. Using his other hand, he used the secretions as lubrication to begin probing her anus. Susan, still weeping, felt her body, responding to his gentle caresses, a pleasant warmth beginning to overcome the tortured heat of moments before. John chuckled: "Susan, you need not fear that I will kill you. I brought you here to know you; to possess you. I have no intention letting anything fatal befall you. You trusted me with your mind as your cyber –lover. You can trust me with your body here in this place and time." He continued to caress her pussy and her asshole, gently increasing her arousal. "I can tell you however that along the way, you may at times even beg to die, to be given release from the torture that you have desired in your fantasies." Susan felt his warm wet tongue begin to lick very gently on her swollen pink flesh. She felt the tip soothing the hurt. She felt his tongue probing around her clit. His finger entered her cunt, probing deeper and deeper inside her. A finger from his other hand was probing into her ass. His tongue was lapping at her clit, the roughness mixed with slickness over her organ of pleasure. Her body responded. She felt her climax approaching. Desperately, she tried to suppress it, to avoid giving in to his stimulation – his control of her intimate desires. She tried to think of something else, but how could she possibly think of anything else, with her body entrapped and so lewdly displayed at his mercy and being stimulated like that. John took his mouth off of Susan's cunt for a moment and said something in French to the three soldiers sitting by the fire. The soldiers laughed, slapped each other on the back, and to Susan's horror, two of them walked over to the frame on the opposite side from John. John was standing between her upraised spread legs with her head hanging down facing away from him. The soldiers came to the side she was facing, with her head looking at their knees. They stood there enjoying the sight of her nakedness. She felt a flush spreading all over her body, though whether it was a flush of shame or of arousal, or maybe both, she wasn't quite sure. John spoke to the men again, and then recommenced his oral play with her much abused pussy. The soldiers bent down in front of her, talking to her in French, but even without words, she recognized the sort of cooing sounds one makes to a creature one is about to pet. She was staring at them upside down. She of course struggled in her bonds, but as always with no success in loosening them. The soldiers each took one of her breasts in their big rough hands. They felt her breasts with remarkable gentleness. Then they each took a nipple and began licking and sucking, while holding her breast in their hands. Susan's body was now totally on fire. The feelings in her nipples were connected to the feelings in her core. She had a permanent head rush from hanging almost upside down. The things John was doing to her cunt and asshole with his fingers, and to her clit with his mouth were bringing her ever closer to losing her restraint and giving in to the building climax. But now with the soldiers also watching her, she was even more terrified of what they would do if she orgasmed right in front of them. Her mind was a torrent of feelings, emotional and physical. She began to feel detached from reality. Surely this must all be some drug induced dream. It could not possibly be real. She felt her mind floating as if to see what she looked like, trapped in the frame and helplessly brought to climax exposed to these strange men. Susan felt John's fingers insider her cunt. It was surely more than one finger, but how many, she could not tell. She felt her opening being stretched, her canal being filled. At the same time, her asshole was being filled with, well, she assumed it was his finger. The soldiers were sucking harder and harder at her nipples. She lost all thought of anything except the pleasure this was creating in her body. He limbs began getting rigid. She felt a wave of warmth surging through her. Then, as convulsions racked her body, she felt a gush of liquid flow from her cunt, through John's fingers, running down her ass, and down her back. Wave after wave of climax coursed through her body. She knew the men were still manipulating her body, but she had little sense of the specific things they were doing, only that her body was completely filled with ecstatic sensations. The waves of orgasmic pleasure washed over her again and again, the orgasms merging one into another. Her body in the restraints bucking and squirming, She cried out in a cross between a moan and scream. She was panting at the exertion of her convulsions. Finally the she began to wind down, getting still, as the men all let go of what they were doing to her. She hung there totally spent – wasted. She felt the frame moving, her head coming up and her feet going down. John stepped out of the frame and raised her to the upright vertical position. She opened her eyes. He was smiling at her. She would have smiled back if she could have summoned the energy. John spoke: "You see how you are rewarded when you share your thoughts with me. That was merely a taste. But it is not simply about positive and negative reinforcement. It is about moving you to a place where you no longer care to conceal anything from me, where you tell me what you yourself had never put into words. It is about opening up your mind in a way you have never even known was possible. This will all be accomplished through pleasure and pain, and an experience so intense, you will think you cannot live through it, but you want it never to stop. And now my dear, you must be thirsty. Would you care for a little more of that excellent wine I sent you." Susan nodded weakly. John reached behind him and pulled a cord hanging from the ceiling. Within a few seconds, the carved door opened and a girl entered. She appeared to be a servant girl, dressed simply in what in the 21st century would be called a peasant blouse and long skirt. It did not appear that bras were worn here, as her nipples were visibly protruding through the thin material of her blouse. She had long blond hair, hanging below her shoulders. She was by any standard a very lovely girl. She looked curiously at Susan in the frame, examining her body, scanning over her exposed nakedness, appearing to assess Susan's assets, making some sort of comparisons, dwelling on her breasts, her belly, her hairless pussy, her thighs, and finally, Susan's face. Susan flushed before this frank appraisal, feeling her exposed condition, wishing she could cover herself. It seemed strange that having just been exposed to four men during the most intimate of bodily reactions, she should still feel embarrassment at being simply viewed by another woman. Perhaps it was the lowering of her status, that this servant girl was clearly at a higher status than Susan. She was not merely ashamed of her nakedness, but of her position of helplessness. John spoke in French to the girl, who turned and went back through the door. Susan hung limply in her bondage, resting, coming down from her sexual high. A minute later, the girl returned with a tray on which were three mugs of what appeared to be beer, a bottle of wine that looked like the one that had been delivered to her home, and a wine glass. John took the bottle and the glass from the try and nodded toward the soldiers. The girl took the tray to them and returned with the empty tray to stand near the door. John poured a glass full of the wine and took a sip: "It is not quite of the same quality as what I sent you. 450 years of aging will smoothen it out greatly. But even young, it is I think rather good." He stepped toward Susan, and put the rim of the glass to her lips. As she took in her mouth, he tipped it to allow her to sip. She tasted it. He was right. It was good, but not quite the wonderful quality she had tasted earlier. On the other hand, she was in no position to act as a wine connoisseur. She was, frankly, dying of thirst, and would have drunk the whole glass down at once had he allowed it. The servant girl continued to observe Susan's body closely. It was apparent that the girl was attracted to Susan's body. The girl came over to the frame. Gently, she began to caress Susan, feeling her flanks, her tummy, her thighs, her ass. She took a cloth from a pocket in her skirt and began gently wiping from Susan's face and body the residue of her recent treatment. Susan shivered at the gentle caresses, the caring touches. Finishing the cleaning, the girl leaned forward, brushing her lips softly across Susan's mouth. The tip of her tongue gently caressed Susan's lips, probing between them, tasting Susan's mouth. Her mouth pressed firmly against Susan's mouth in a full on passionate kiss. Susan felt herself responding to this gently loving approach from the lovely servant girl. The kiss lingered. As she kissed Susan, the girl began tenderly stroking Susan's bottom, soothingly caressing her. Finally the girl broke the kiss and turned to John and said in strongly accented English: "This one is perfect. You have brought a very beautiful girl this time. I hope you will allow me to enjoy her also." With that, she smiled beautifully at Susan, took her tray and disappeared back through the door, leaving Susan, shocked to hear the girl speak English and once again, alone with the four men. John continued to offer Susan more sips of wine, alternately himself sipping from the same glass, refilling it from the bottle as necessary, John said: "The other bottle was slightly doctored to facilitate your transfer, but it did not affect the taste. This wine is simply wine, nothing more. Enjoy it." He offered her another sip. She felt now the flush of the alcohol spreading warmth through her body. She relaxed limply in the frame, allowing the waist belt to take most of her weight, as he fed her the wine as if she were a small child being given milk. "John," Susan asked, "Where am I? What is this place? Where have you taken me? How did I get here? This cannot really be what it looks like." John smiled: "Actually, yes it really is what it looks like. Susan, you are in eastern France, and the year is 1562. I know it is hard to accept, but I could not possibly have fabricated this whole setup. As to how you got here, well, I brought you here through what I call a 'crack in time'. It was something I discovered while doing advanced scientific experimentation with fusion power. It is really just a bit of an oddity, not a general purpose time machine or anything like that. He paused: "I can tell by the look on your face that you don't believe me. Yes, I know it is difficult to believe, even when faced with the evidence of your senses. I have not published this discovery. I fear that no human government is wise enough to not abuse the power of this phenomenon. They would either misuse it for wicked purposes, or else bury it out of fear and prevent me from even using it myself. Either way, it would be taken out of my hands. I may not be the wisest or best person in the world, but I am sufficiently cautious in my use of this effect that I do not see it coming to gross evil, despite what you yourself may be thinking at this particular moment. "I found a French castle that is still an unexcavated ruin in the 21st century. It turns out that it will be destroyed not too many years hence, and will be all but forgotten well short of our time. I bought the land in the 21st century and constructed my equipment on it a ways away from the castle. I am able to go back and forth through the centuries frequently. That wonderful wine I sent you, was one bottle from a number of cases that I have hidden very safely here in some caves, from which I retrieve them in the 21st century, aged to perfection. The sale of various artifacts such as a few of those bottles supports me very nicely in that time. In this time, I am considered an alchemist, or possibly by some a sort of wizard. I am able to produce all sorts of potions and gadgets which they find extremely useful, and which have made me a very important asset to this little fiefdom. "For example, being able to supply the men of this time with Viagra is, shall we say, a very "potent" ability. Such pills are worth more than gold here. The late Lord of the castle was more than happy to provide me with every accommodation and privilege here in return for a pill a day. I will say that the Lady of the castle has shown herself equally grateful. It was unfortunate that his Lordship's heart gave out while taking advantage of his newly regained potency, but I am told he died a happy man, breathing his last in ecstatic bliss. "I also provide them with various other little bits and pieces of 21st century technology – never enough to radically change things, but just enough to make me an extremely valuable person to them. They are more than happy to grant me any sort of facilities and provisions I request, in exchange for my assistance of various sorts. Anything I want that they cannot supply, I can acquire in the future and bring back with me. A Crack in Time Ch. 01-02 "The crack in time is such that it does not require a machine at the exact point from which a person is transported. It requires only certain connections to be able to bring a person here from various places in the 21st century. It also requires no equipment back here in this time. All of the equipment is in a compound about half a mile from the castle in the 21st century. In this time, you arrived at a farm house in that location, from which you were brought by carriage. "I have found that the "Back to the Future" sort of worries about changing the future are overblown. In general, time is stable. Perturbations are damped out with time so that a change in the past will have a decreasing effect over the years until it no longer makes any difference exactly what changed centuries ago. For example, were I to kill one of my ancestors, it would turn out that in fact he had been cuckolded and my descent did not really come through him anyway, so I would not suddenly cease to exist. On the other hand, were I to say, blast London out of existence with a thermonuclear weapon, the perturbations would obviously take much longer to dampen out, and we could see effects for centuries, though eventually decreasing. In any case, on a small scale, I can fiddle with things 450 years before without fear of it having any significant effect on the 20th or 21st centuries. "So, my dear, you are here with me now, and your return is of course up to me. I can reassure you that your friends in the 21st century do not even know that you are gone. The crack in time is such that I can return you to the same moment at which you were extracted. In the 21st century, you will not have been gone for more than a millisecond, even though your time here can last for a considerable, though limited, time. As long as you do return before too long, there will be no hue and cry for a missing woman, no grieving friends, no futile searches. Of course, if I were to decide to keep you here permanently, after a period of time that varies with multiple factors, the world there would resume without you, and you never could return. While that is always a possibility, I expect that you will most likely end up back in North Carolina in 2005, but behaving yourself is always a good idea, just to be sure, don't you think? Unless of course, you take a liking to this barbaric age and decide you would really rather stay. That can be arranged. Susan hung, open mouthed, as John gave her this explanation. She had to admit that the ride into the castle had seemed very, very real, as did the castle. If this were a movie set of some sort, an incredible amount of money, time and effort had been put into making it realistic. Still, she just could not quite buy the time travel story John was giving her. She decided that it made little difference whether he was telling her truth or not. Either way, she was helplessly exposed to his will. It was obvious no one was coming to her rescue. "John," she asked, what more can you do to me. I will tell you whatever you want to know. My God, I told you nearly all of my secrets in our e-mails already. You already know my most secret fantasies. Let me go, and I will tell you anything else I can." Shaking his head John replied: "You have told me the easy things – the things about which you obsess. The hard things, those you may not even know you were hiding, as you may hide them even from yourself, Those are what I want to learn about you." He continued sharing sips of wine with Susan until together they had consumed half the bottle. The soldiers had gone back to the benches by the fire. The servant girl was gone for only a few minutes, returning with three more mugs of beer and giving them to the soldiers, who drained the end of first round and eagerly took the second, amid laughter and joking. Susan could see that the soldiers were teasing the girl about something. She took the empty mugs and again left the room. John set down the bottle of wine and the glass. He came back to the frame. He carefully touched her breasts, feeling and stroking them. She felt her nipples hardening under his touch. From the table next to the frame, he took a large needle, with a leather thong already threaded through the eye. He passed the needle over the flame of a candle sitting in a candlestick on the table. With his left hand, he pulled her left nipple, stretching it toward him. With his right he brought the needle to her nipple. She could see that he was about to pierce her with needle and she screamed in fear: "No, John, you wouldn't. Please don't. I beg you don't hurt me like that. John grinned: "But Susan, you have fantasized about having your nipples pierced. I am but fulfilling your wish." With that, he began pressing the needle sideways into her nipple at the base of the nipple. The pain was terrific. She screamed, but he maintained the pressure on the needle forcing it through her nipple, and out the other side. Then, he took the point of the needle and pulled it through and out the other side of her nipple, The pain was excruciating. She could feel with agony as the eye of the needle, with the doubled thong, was pulled forcefully through her nipple. She thought she would pass out from the pain. Actually, she wished she could. She moaned in pain. He dragged a length of the thong trough her tortured nipple, dragging the rough leather through the raw hole in her flesh. She could look down and see blood running from the wound, down her breast. He then grasped her right nipple and pressed the needle tip into it, to repeat the torturous process, again causing her to scream. She dared not struggle, much as she wished should could. She began to swear at him: "You cruel bastard, she screamed. That was just a fantasy. This is real, and it HURTS. Oh god please stop. I will tell you anything you want" Ignoring her words, he pushed the needle into and through her right nipple, again drawing the leather thong on through. Now her nipples were strung like pearls. There was blood running down her chest. Her nipples were on fire, throbbing. The pain was agonizing. John tied one end of the thong to a peg on one side of the frame. Then he stretched it out and tied it to a turn peg of some kind on the opposite side of the frame. The thong went in a straight line from the peg, across through her nipples, and to the turn peg at the other side. He began tightening the thong on the turn peg. She could feel the thong being pulled through the raw wounds in her nipples as he tightened it like a guitar string. The blood ran from the wounds. Her chest was screaming pain at her, and Susan was screaming. She didn't know she could feel this much pain. She felt near to fainting. John said: "Now see how easily I can aggravate your pain." He simply plucked the taught thong, like bass fiddle string. It vibrated in the bare flesh of the piercing wounds, causing greater pain with each vibration. She convulsed in agony, her body being literally played like an instrument, and the song was one of torture. He plucked at the string several times, each time causing repeated intense pain in her nipples, and radiating out through her body. Then, John tilted the frame back, so she was lying backwards, roughly horizontal. He walked around the frame to stand by her head. "Susan darling, we must protect those wounds from infection. I know you have a fantasy of having wax poured on you, so let's do it that way. Susan screamed yet again: "Nooooooooo, pleeeeeeese, don't do this to me!" But as always, her words had no affect. John picked up a burning candle from the table and held it high above Susan's breasts, He tilted the candle to one side, allowing the wax to drip onto her chest. She felt the searing heat of a drop of wax on her left breast. It splashed on the upper curve of her breast, missing the nipple, John moved the candle slightly, causing the next drips to fall directly on her already inflamed nipple. Again she screamed at the heat, the hot waxing sticking to her highly sensitive nipple, seemingly burning itself into her flesh. He repeated this process on her right breast, the wax dripping first on the side of her breast, and then moving over the nipple, causing searing fire in her nipple convulsing her in more agony. Her body, which, moments before, had convulsed in pleasure, now convulsed in pain. "There my dear" said John, "was that how you imagined it would feel in your fantasy?" She thought about it, conscious of the need to respond before he decided to inflict more pain. Through teeth gritted in pain, she managed to grunt out: "I never imagined such pain was possible." "Oh, dear Susan" he replied, "this is only the beginning." And with that, he gave the frame a spin causing her to revolve head over heals. With each rotation of the frame, her breasts hung first up, and then down, the thong strung through them rubbing inside the wounds, the agony continuous, spreading through her chest, causing her core to clench. Susan, screamed and screamed and screamed as the frame went round and round and round. -------------------------------- To be continued, if feedback warrants. All comments, public and private, gratefully accepted. This story is dedicated to Susan of the delicious kinks, who inspired it and for whom it was written, with love.