0 comments/ 40493 views/ 10 favorites A Sweet Touch Ch. 01 By: rockcandie I wake in a daze. I can't move my arms. They're numb, and pinned up overhead. I look up, my slender wrists are cuffed to a hook, and I am nearly suspended from the ceiling. My tiptoes touch the floor in some breakneck high heels, and my long, perfect legs are spread and cuffed to a long spreader bar. How did I get here? Am I dreaming? I pull at the hook, strain to get the clip up and over the hook, stretching hard, and still unable to get free. I hear a dark laugh from a shadowy corner. At once I remember! I was leaving the store....putting the groceries in the van, when.....I must have been captured, I must have been drugged in some way. My head is still swimming as I hear the clicking of shoes on the polished concrete floor. The sound is slow, deliberate, and it's coming closer. My breaths quicken,my heart pounds, and I strain to hear, anything at all, and nothing. I try to turn and cannot. Suddenly hot breath is on the soft skin of my back and it hits me like a slap. My body jerks from fear alone. The hot breath remains and travels to my fine, firm asscheeks and down onto one leg, the back of my thigh. Two calloused hands grip my small ankles as the hot breath blows up into my asscrack and across my soft, moist cuntlips. I shiver as I hear someone inhale deeply. "Mmm, that's an exquisite scent, Candie." I hear the deep voice rumble. I sob in fear and the sound echoes in the vast, empty room. I can't see anything at all. A single spotlight shines down onto my bound body, sweat glistens on my skin, my wrists ache, and my toes scream in the pain of supporting my body for so long. The big pair of hands slides up my long, shaking legs, slowly, as if to savor every sexy curve. The velvety, rich voice is silent, and I find I want and need to hear it again. There is something about the sound. It is so calm and commanding, yet so dangerous, so cruel. The small gagball in my mouth drips with saliva as it holds my pretty little yap open, silencing me except for the noises elicited by this captor. I cannot see anything beyond the brightness of the pool of light I'm in, despite my efforts to adjust. Those hands, sliding up my beautiful body, seem to be memorizing every detail of me. The voice rumbles softly in my ear. "Candie.....Candie. You're a slut, aren't you, Candie? I've been watching you dance at the club for a month now." Now I remember! This guy, this tall, stern looking man has been there nearly every night I dance, but it never occurred to me that it was only to see me. There are dozens of others. The man laughs darkly again. "You recall, don't you......the man you've been teasing with this body of yours has decided its time you pay. By the time I'm done with you, I'll have you trained to beg for my cock." His hands slide slowly around, touching the bottom curve of my big stripper tits. My nipples gather stiffly as he looks over my shoulder, watching them. "Slutty Candie." He pinches my nipples, gently. "Making my cock so hard with your writhing." He pinches harder, his breath is steamy on my slender neck, his voice taking on a darker tone as he goes on. "Bouncing these tits right at me." As he pinches harder, he speaks through gritted teeth. "When you dance, know that you WILL be coming to me afterwards." One hand sliding down my flat, muscular belly, pressing hard all the way to my mound....he cups my cunt, squeezing roughly, one nipple still pinched cruelly between his thumb and forefinger. His voice was angry now as his lips feather on my neck. "You'll come to me, you'll lick my hard cock and ask to spread your legs." I scream around the gag as he suddenly bites down hard and pinches the other nipple. He laughs darkly as I struggle vainly, and whimper. Drool drips down my quivering chin to my ample fucktits. His finger slips into my pretty little cuntfolds and into my tightness. " A raped cunt always gets wet, Candie. Deep down, every cunt knows what it's for." I moan in pleasure to his great satisfaction as he fingers me, expertly drawing out an orgasm as he tugs my g spot. "You will spread your legs and spread your cunt for me when I'm done with you, whore, and that will be your new life. You will dance and you will serve my cock." My pretty brow furrows in distress as he makes me cum against my will, and reveals his wicked plan for me. His finger slips out and with the slickened tip of his digit, he wets my hard little clit, a tiny motion, as he pushes it around. My body reacts, squirming, pulling at my bonds, my sleek muscles flexing and relaxing. His fingers pinch it as he did my nipples and he squeezes hard, making it hurt. He muses as he continues to make me yelp and drool. "A little ring in there to lead you with perhaps." My big, balloonish fuckdoll tits are all wet now from the drips of my juices. "First, however, there is the matter of payment, Candie." The tone in his voice is icy, and dangerous. He slowly circles me, hovering just out of my vision."You'll pay for the nights you've made my cock ache, little bitch." I shiver as he steps into view. I am shocked at his height...so tall...broad shoulders, and muscular arms flexing as he draws a pair of black leather gloves from his back pocket. He is rather good looking, but his gaze is cold. My heart is frozen with fear, not knowing what he plans to do to me. He slides the gloves onto his big, strong hands as he watches me, his eyes never leave my face as he speaks to me. His hand gently caresses my cheek. The leather is soft and smooth. It is a finely crafted pair of gloves. "Such sultry lips...." His fingers drag over them, callously drawing my lower lip down. His finger slides into my mouth, and I dare not resist. He presses down on my tongue and grips my jaw, opening my mouth further, then slides his thick, gloved finger far into my throat, gagging me. He has an uncaring expression on his face as he toys with me. His other hand whips through the air and cracks against the side my tit, HARD. He does not stop there. Again and again, he spanks my tit so hard I scream, tears welling after the first few slaps. He has no intention of being gentle. He uses my tit like a boxer's speed bag as he gags me, merciless as I choke and cry. "Do you like that, Candie?" He taunts. After what seems like eternity, he steps back, removing his finger and slapping my other tit even harder. Hauling his arm back, he lets loose. My nipples are so hard, throbbing, red, and swollen.....at last he stops, but only to grip them in gloved hands and squeeze until I scream, long and raw. At this, he stops, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He catches his breath, he removes the gloves and begins to caress the hot porndoll tits he has just beaten. He leans to suck the tender nipples, and as he does, my body jerks. He freezes and slowly looks up at me, training a wicked glare at my pretty face. "Now, now, Candie that's no way to behave." He begins pacing back and forth in front of me, frowning, thinking, and I seriously begin to regret not controlling my body. I never should have jerked as his mouth touched my nipples! "I can see your whore tits have to be punished further. I had hoped to keep your pain to a minimum, but I can tell that just won't do." His villainous tone frightens me to my core. I can hear him fishing around in the dark for something, and, at last, he brings his treasure into the light. Gleaming, dangling from his grip, are two mean looking clamps. "Your sexy little cock-teasing nipples are going to wear these for a while, Candie." And with that, he clips the tight things to my already sore, reddened nublets. I fight valiantly, struggling to keep my tender flesh from the jaws of the nipple clamps, but he only laughs at my hot jiggling spankbags and expertly clips the sharp jaws in place. Tears roll down my cheeks and his bare hand caresses. "Ah, I know, I know...Sssshhhhh.....I bet you'd like to have your arms down and your gag removed, wouldn't you, Candie?", he asks, totally catching me offguard. My arms ache so badly, my tiptoes are numb. The thought of release is sweet...just to lower my arms and sit down would be sooo lovely. I nod, tearful eyes blinking prettily. As soon as I do, I feel a slight pinprick in my firm little asscheek. I have the sensation that the pain has ended, but it is fleeting. I am falling into blackness, drowning in it, with no way back. Just like before, I am dizzy-headed when I awaken. At once I recognize that I am no longer hooked upright. I am on a convex table, spread and bound. My head is back as I lay, my body bent back, following the curve of the table. I lift my head to see what I can, and to my surprise, I am dressed in one of my dancing outfits. I feel frightened at this man's ability to drug me and do things with me while I am unconscious. At the same time, I feel confusing stirrings of heat. I hear what sounds like a key in a lock and a heavy door swing open on slightly stiff hinges. His voice sends a shiver through me and his hands touching me, though warm, make me shiver more. They slide up my long legs to my inner thighs and stop. "Little whore, all in red.", he chuckles, running a finger down my slit. My favorite dance attire is all red, long red satin gloves, shiny high heels, a thin thong, lace bra, red fishnet stockings and a red lace garterbelt. My bra is pulled down under my clamped nipples, and they are aching and burning intensely. I feel them throb as his eyes linger. "Would you like me to remove your gag, Candie?", he asks, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. I nod anyway. My jaws feel broken and I've never been in so much pain in my life. It scares me so much that I cannot imagine doing anything to anger this man. To my surprise, his fingers are at the buckle and he gently removes the wet ball from my sore mouth. After setting the gag aside, he massages my jaws with care. The simple act of kindness has me floating in pleasure. I thank him softly, sweetly, as he looks down into my pretty face. "That's a good girl, Candie. I enjoy gratitude." His voice is low and soothing as he touches me, his hands caressing slowly over ever curve, lingering at the crooks of my arms, my neck, my belly, and my most sensitive spots. I stiffen and shriek as he unexpectedly thumps my nipple clamps, sending jolts of pain through my big, sexy tits. My body writhes as I pant in anguish. "Just wait until they come off," he taunts, his hands sliding down my sides, his thumbs pressing into the muscles of my belly. He squeezes my hips hard with a grunt of satisfaction. I hear the squeak of gears and feel my long, elegant legs spread wider and wider, until I am in the splits, a dance move I love to do. Bigger wads of cash always show up after I hold that pose for a minute. The table's moveable wings allow him to spread me in any position he likes. His hands glide sensually up each leg, stopping at shapely calves and mid thighs to squeeze the firmness there. "I've watched with a rock hard cock so many times as you've worn this little slutty get-up, Candie....watched in agony as you did the splits and teased me, only to walk away at the end of the night without one glance in my direction." His tone is angrier as he goes on, until, with gritted teeth, his fingers are dug into the flesh of my beautiful thighs. I whimper as quietly as I can, tears dripping with the fear of what he could be planning. "I've watched this tiny little thong around your thighs as you wag your cockteasing hips!" He jerks the thin fabric to the side, exposing my pretty pink frills, shaven smoothly, completely. His hand pets me there, gently parting my lips, pulling back the delicate hood of my clit. "You're so excited, little bitch!" he points out as he runs a finger over my wetness. My cheeks flush crimson, and I wonder how I could be so wet when I am so scared. My body tightens as he suddenly tears my panties off. His voice energetic, his tone conveying how excited he is to have me strapped down in this outfit, helpless and under his control. "I want to hear you scream as I give you what you deserve for all those nights, Candie!" Growling now as he speaks and slaps something against a palm, stepping near my head, peering down into my wet, frightened face. He whips the wide leather riding bat through the air in front of me a few times, to frighten me more, yet his voice is calmer, his composure regained. "You'll get fourteen cuntswats Candie, one for each time you wore this and made me hot for you. I want to hear you count them, Candie. Count every one or we will start over. I'd better hear you through these wet little panties of yours, too," he warns as he stuffs the small ball of sheer fabric into my mouth. With that, he moves quickly between my legs and gives a hard spank to my pretty pink pussy. I can't help screaming, and trying to close my legs, the sound muffled only slightly by the panties. "I didn't hear you count, Candie, so we'll begin again." SWAT!!!!!!!!! I scream "ONE!", and hear him laugh that dark, wicked sound of his satisfaction. "My sexy little cunt learns quickly," he muses, and slips one long finger into my tight little sluthole, easily finding my g spot again and tugging. I nearly cum until he stops, to my surprise. "Do you want to cum, slutty Candie?" I can hear in his voice that he is smiling. I am wet, and it would have felt so good to cum. As much as I am freaked out, scared to death, and hoping to escape, I'd still like to cum. I must be a slut, just like he said, and the realization hits hard. His finger tugs a bit more and stops just before I flood. "Say 'Yes, please' to me," he instructs, and I say it, softly, meekly, so fully humiliated, I can barely choke out the words. "Say 'Yes please SIR!' to me," he says, with a bit of force. I hesitate, and feel that wicked leather spank down hard against my hot little cunt. I scream, but not 'TWO!', like I should have. He tsks at me and tells me, his voice overflowing with amusement, that I will be starting over. He fingers me again, tugging, stopping just before I cum. I am trembling, a quaver in my voice as I beg, "Yes, please, sir." "Yes, please Sir, what, Candie?" He makes me say it all, drawing full humiliation from me. "Please let me cum, Sir," I say as I fall deep into red faced embarrassment. He moans as he fingers me into orgasm, "Mmmmmmmmm, good girl, Candie, you are learning." He withdraws a dripping finger from my clenching little snatch, tasting it, moaning at the exquisite flavor. "So fucking good, little slut...oh gawd, so good!", grunting as he pokes my leg with a stiff bulge inside his pants. I feel the riding bat swing down hard, the airflow just before the maddening sting. Ready this time, I scream "ONE!" , then "TWO!", then "THREE!!!!!!!!!", as he spanks me there, the pretty pussy that has wagged in his face over the last weeks, haunting his thoughts as he tries to fall asleep at night. I feel his cock only in his fantasies as he jerks off, tempting him to this rape. I begin to realize this might be my fault. After all, what did I expect? What was I thinking would happen when I make my living this way, never once even dating a client? Countless hard, dripping cocks sent away unsatisfied, night after raunchy, scarlet night. After seven mean spanks, my lovely little cunt is bright red. I feel his breath there, soft as satin, the most wonderful sensation I've ever felt...so otherworldly gentle compared to the swats. My head rolls side to side, long lashes wet with tears, pouty little mouth all crammed full of my beautiful red panties. His tongue flicks against my clit, his warm, wet mouth suckling, covering my clit, tongue still tickling there.....my moaning so hot, steamy, wanton as he makes me cum again. His long, pointed tongue is poking far up into my juicy little cunt, snaking, erotic, and drinking up my drooling pussy flood. I nearly forgot to count when the next swat came crashing down. I screamed just in time. A fraction of a second more and I would be starting over. Fourteen cuntspanks counted before he stops. I hear him as he drops into a chair, breathing a bit heavy. Tears soak my hair now as I bawl in pain, my cute little cunt hurting, stinging so smartly, thoroughly punished for teasing his cock, for looking so pretty, so tight, so inviting. A Sweet Touch Ch. 02 "I want you to go get yourself cleaned up, Candie. Drink some water, have some food, shower, freshen your makeup, do your hair, and dress up in the outfit I have provided." He instructs me sternly as he lifts himself from the chair, and unfastens the thick leather straps that hold me down tight. His manner has somehow mellowed as he helps me up, lifting my limp body from the sweat soaked table, swinging my legs around to dangle from the side. "Put your hands behind you, Candie, and stick your tits out for me now," he says softly. My back arches as I comply; my big, round, firm tits lifted to him, hands clasped behind me, with my fingers laced. He pulls at the two clamps at once, slowly, cruelly letting my nipples stretch, letting the clamps pinch to the very edge of my nipples before they snap the last bit closed. The pain is excruciating! I pant and cry, legs kicking like a child throwing a fit. As the blood flows back into the tender nubs, I scream, howling as he laughs and mauls my tits, slapping them side to side. "Leave your hands back, Candie," he warns as he spanks the gorgeous mounds of titflesh. Tears stream down my pretty cheeks again, as my nipples surge with blood. He chuckles evilly, rubbing the raw pink nubbins until my head shakes no and I beg him to please stop. "Oh, I'll never stop, Candie. These titties belong to me now." He gives them both a wicked twist to punctuate his point, eliciting more sexy little whines from my trembling lips. He places his big hands around my small waist, taking me off the table to stand before him. For the first time, I notice his full height compared to mine. He is only a few inches taller than me as I face him in insanely high heels, but his shoulders are huge. He is dressed well, in expensive slacks, and a button down shirt, nice leather belt, and shiny shoes. I can barely look him in the eye as he tells me to hump his leg. "Grind your dirty little bitch cunt on my thigh, Candie, and offer me your tits. Like this." He moves my hands up under my shelf of titflesh, and pushes upwards and together. I obey immediately, shaking, and knowing I could be in trouble should I hesitate. I straddle his powerful thigh and grind my sore little pussy there, my face so pinked up as I push my big stripper doll tits together. "Mmmm, that's right, grind like the dirty whore you are." His hands grip my fine little asscheeks as I ride his thigh, my pretty eyes widened as I shyly look up at him. His eyes bore deeply into mine, holding me as if by some spell. "Whose tits are those, Candie?" he calmly asks; his snarl deep, velvety, and wolfish. My cheeks deepen their blush as I wet his pantleg with my naughty juices and tell him my tits are his. He instantly grabs them both, lifting me with them to his mouth. I stand on tiptoes, back arched sharply as he devours each ultra tender nipple in turn. His grip is so tight; my huge porn star tits bruise up with his finger marks. It feels very good despite the tender pain they're in, and I nearly cum as he licks them while applying suction, the same way he suckled my clit. He lifts his head a moment. "Get on my thigh, Candie.....get on there.......good, good.....now grind until you cum," he says, inspecting my form. He seems to be relishing biting, sucking, and licking furiously as I grind my blazing hot little cunt on his flexed thigh, cumming quickly, whimpery sobs as I cream, my hands still clasped tightly. He abruptly releases his grip on my tits, and gives me a hard, open handed slap across my pretty face, knocking me to the floor. I tumble painfully, and look up at him with fear moistening my emerald eyes. His fist is twisted in my silky hair before I can think and my mouth is pressed to his soaked pant leg. "Lick up your slutmess," he says simply, and my tongue is instantly lapping at the stain I've left there. It is a delicious cunt mess soaked through a small spot there on his muscular thigh. After licking at it a minute or two, I am, of course, unable to remove the scent and wetness. He releases me roughly, and helps me to my feet. "Such a sexy little bitch you are, Candie." I notice his cock is very hard and tenting his slacks. He is gentle, yet firm as he leads me to a door, showing me in and flipping on the light. I stagger on wobbly legs, blinking into the room. "I'll be back in a couple of hours, Candie." The door clicks shut behind me before I can say a word, and his key turns in the outer lock. There seems no need to check the door, or look for a way out, as I'm sure this violent, though intelligent man has thought of everything. I imagine his security system would alert him to any escape attempts, and I cannot afford to feel the payback of betrayal. Dragging myself to a small, comfortable loveseat, I let my aching body fall into it, and wonder to myself why he didn't just fuck me right then. I allow myself a few moments of ragdoll limp flopping on the soft, overstuffed cushion, my eyes wide, blinking, my mind trying to adjust, to get a grip on my situation. At the moment I smell the food, I also realize I'm staring at it and sit up. I hadn't realized how famished and thirsty I am until now. The round coffee table in front of me holds a large pitcher of fresh water, a matching glass, and a large platter arranged with fruits, cut vegetables, various cheeses and cold cuts, crackers, artichoke hearts, and marinated mushrooms. Wild-eyed, I find myself stuffing my mouth steadily for a couple of minutes. Chasing the food with a large glass of water, and sitting back to rest, my head is beginning to clear. I realize that if I do anything dumb and get caught, this man could very well hurt me much more than he has already....possibly seriously, causing irreparable damage. I'm not sure, but he doesn't seem to be murderous, but how can I tell? I think I should do my best to satisfy him, to behave and give him what he wants, no matter if I like what he wants or not. How bad could it be? Whatever he wants me to do, it probably won't be as bad as a broken neck, for sure, and its not as if he's repulsive or anything. In fact, I guess I'm lucky he isn't disgusting and unwashed. Suddenly I realize I am wasting time sitting here when I will be expected to be perfect looking in an hour and a half now. After popping a couple more green grapes into my mouth, I hop up and find the bathroom. Everything I could possibly need has been provided. The shower is clean, new in fact, as if the bathroom had just been installed. I wonder if he installed this in preparation for my capture. Everything has been thought of, down to the triple bladed razors I use, and the proper shampoo and conditioner for my type of hair. I should be creeped out, but I am delighted as I smell the berry blend body butter and swing the medicine cabinet open to find a new unwrapped toothbrush and my brand of extra whitening, cavity fighting toothpaste. Then it dawns on me....I had been shopping when he kidnapped me, and I had purchased the toothpaste myself. Of course! A gym bag with several of my dancing outfits had been in the van as well. I breathed a sigh of relief that he probably had not been in my apartment, and quickly moved on to prepare myself. In the shower, I feel distinctly watched as I gingerly soap up my sore nipples and pussy, and the bite on my slender neck. I look up and study the ceiling as I wash myself, but I can detect no way of hiding a camera. Still, I feel his eyes appraising my tan, well toned body as the suds flow, caressing every curve, plane and crevice. It takes an iron will to make myself turn off the deliciously hot water and open the shower door with a roll of steam, and step out into my new reality again. At the vanity, I fix my long pretty hair to go with the slutty little outfit he has laid out for me. It's not something I have ever worn, but I have admired outfits like this in the store. Its red, whore's red he had called it. I slide on shiny, super tight rubber shorts, with extra low cut with little laces up the front, and a seam that accentuates my ass crack, separating my firm cheeks, and squeezing them. A matching thong that is made to be seen even with the tight shorts on is extra small. The top, cropped to just under my bra line, equally as tight, squeezes my huge tits together, and has laces just like the shorts. The shoes are thick; chunky heeled, platform patent leather slut shoes, seven inches high at the heel. I thought cock teasing pigtails would look perfect with it all and found some fluffy scrunchies to hold them with. I smooth on the makeup provided, and added more than usual, matching the shade of lipstick to the red rubber, adding fuscia blush and purple eye shadow. The effect was very slut dollish, especially with the schoolgirl hairstyle. At last satisfied, I rise to walk the length of the room, feeling the tight little shorts and panties pinching my clit. If I didn't have a spanked cunt, the sensation might actually be nice. As it is, the pinching tortures my pussy with every step I take. I hear a knock at the door, and then the key. I stand frozen, surprised at his refined manners despite his sadistic sexual appetite. As he steps through the door, I find myself hoping he'll be pleased with my appearance. He is freshly dressed and looks as if he has also had a shower and a shave. He looks very nice in expensive trousers and a tuxedo shirt with platinum cufflinks. I swallow hard at his expression. He looks as if he'd like to take me right then and there. I stutter, groping for the words. "Thanks......thank you, f-for the.........the food and..." He holds his hand up to silence me. "A man takes care of his pet, Candie. Now come," he commands, motioning me to his feet. I hesitate, halfway to the floor, not sure what to do. "That's right, on your fours, dirty bitch," he says with a snap of his fingers, the word bitch stressed to add an extra edge to his domination. For the first time, I notice he has something in his other hand, and a chain dangling from it. I sink to the floor and crawl to him, the tight rubber pinching, squeezing every one of my luscious curves. "Ohhh, Candie!", he says as he fastens what has turned out to be a shiny red collar around my neck, with a leash already attached. His growl is so hot, horny, and voracious. "You're going to make such a satisfying bitch." I am led out of the room, crawling like a little doggie slightly behind him, through the dimly lit room I had spent my first day in. I get the distinct feeling of being underground, in a basement, where my screams cannot be heard. I find myself thankful that this man hasn't shown signs of gory violence, or a desire to kill me. I can see around the room now, without the bright spotlight on me, and it looks just like dungeons I've seen in porn flicks and pictures. Various spanking tools and other devices hang from small hooks in the wooden racks, and in turn are attached to the concrete walls. There are several kinds of bondage tables as well as the apparatus hanging from the ceiling that I'd first been put in. At the end of the long room, the ceiling opens up, vaulted, with a large wooden beam. Beneath, directly in front of us, is a stage. As he tugs me along I crawl as fast as he leads, and I begin to see it more clearly. It's the stage where I work! Or, more precisely, it's a perfect representation of it. It's large, with a long catwalk out front, backed by mirror tiles. Its floor is polished wood, and the brass pole stands in the middle of one of the L's in the back. My pretty little painted mouth is hanging open, and I click it shut as soon as I realize it. "It's even better than the stage where you work, Candie," he says, as if he's read my mind. My heart raced when he said 'works', indicating that I still have a job at the club. Maybe he doesn't plan to keep me prisoner forever. "You'll have to be careful not to trip over the specially installed rings in the floor," he says as he casually points here and there. He tugs me to my feet, choking me a bit with the snug collar. Unhooking the leash from the ring in it, he urges me toward the small staircase with a smack to my firm butt cheek, making solid contact with the tight rubber. His fresh drink awaits him as he takes a comfortable seat in a nice leather chair, ones you'd never find at the seedy little club I dance in. With a remote control, he clicks on the lights and some dirty, grinding metal music booms from hidden speakers. I recognize it from the club. The very sound of it makes my body move. I climb the stairs and instantly, I'm in stripping mode. It's a state of mind that takes over when a girl hits the stage. She becomes one with the tunes, moving her body in ways that allude to her sexual desires. For me, the movements are very flirty, and get downright filthy. When I dance, my body begs to be fucked, and I rake in the tips. I cannot see him now, with the lights on me, and none on him. As I dance, strutting and undulating, I wince every now and then as the ultra tight red rubber pinches my pussy. After bouncing and grinding for well over twenty minutes, I begin to strip off the tiny, tight outfit, first sliding the tight shorts down a bit, and letting them tease at just under my tight ass cheeks. I hear him growl just behind me, startling me for a moment. He stands at the edge of the stage, his fingertips drawing lightly across my skin, along my perfect ass and down the backs of my smooth thighs. I squeak as he delivers a swift smack as I am bent forward, the shorts cupping my ass cheeks. He spanks again and again, calling me names with each swat. "Dirty little witch.......fucking cunt.....cock teasing whore!" He yanks the shorts down hard, and slides them to my ankles, running his hands down my ass cheeks and long legs, leaving me in the pinching little thong and tit squeezing top. I hear his shoes on the polished concrete floor, walking back to his chair. I step from the shorts and keep dancing, writhing, hips grinding, sexy muscles flexing as I undulate, treating him to all the moves I would make at work. My hands smooth over my body, caressing, dragging up each opposite arm, uncrossing across my chest, and allowing the backs of my hands to slide down the sides of each perfectly sculpted tit. I hear him groan in pleasure as I sink into the splits. "Spread those legs, slut," I hear him say, and I imagine him stroking his cock, though I cannot see. I am careful to avoid the rings sunk into the stage, and my vivid imagination has me in various positions, bound to them. While grinding my hips on my fours, I hear him approach again. "Get those panties down around your thighs, Candie," he growls, with a stern, commanding quality to his voice. I slip them down and roll my hips slowly, my soft, pretty little cunt making mesmerizing little circles, round and round. I drop to my elbows and wag my slutty little fuck holes, tempting him every bit as much as I would at work, even knowing that no bouncer can protect me now. I thrash my long hair around wildly, letting it flip and whip my back. His voice rumbles with a moan as he strokes his cock and watches his captive cunt. "You want me to fuck you, don't you, Candie............fuck yeah, you want it, DON'T YOU?" he yells, and I look back over my shoulder with a sexy pout. "Yes, Sir, I do!" I wag my slut tail fast, side to side like a bitch in heat. "I want you to fuck me please, Sir!" At once his big hand is at my pussy, cupping it, stroking it open. "Oh yeah, opening up like a flower for me, Candie.........you're so wet, you little slut. Those panties pinch you here?" he asks as he pinches my clit, pulling it roughly before spanking my soaked cunt lips a couple of times, the sound so lewd as my juices coat his hand. I keep my thighs spread wide, the tight red rubber thong cutting into the curves of my sexy, nicely shaped thighs. Before I can recover from the sting, his cock is at my tiny opening, his hands gripping my slender hips, his thrust firm and mean. I scream as he hilts his huge cock in my tight cunt. It must be the biggest cock I've ever had. It hurts more than it feels good, but my naughty pussy clenches, milking it anyway. He fucks so hard and brutal, rutting me with animal force. He grunts like a beast with each wicked thrust. "Gawd, you're so fucking tight, Candie.........fucking whore..............tight fucking whore," he growls as he pounds me, slamming harder than I've ever been slammed, making me yelp in pain and cum at the same time. He pulls me hard back onto his cock, jarring me heavily. "Oh gawd it feels so good!" He moans as he pushes down on my back, until my cheek and tits are against the floor. His spanks are so hard; they bring tears to my eyes, reddening my perfect bottom with his big, thick hand. He fucks so deep and hard, all I can do is squeal and whine like a horny brat. Suddenly, he is pulling his cock free, and flipping me over, pulling the panties roughly from my legs, ripping the fabric like an animal, crawling up over me, naked except for his shirt hanging open. His cock slams right back into my cunt as he slaps my pretty face, stinging my cheeks as he smacks back and forth with considerable force, his hips crunching, abs flexed like steel bands as he fuck me, punishingly, furiously. "You love it don't you! You fucking love it you bitch!!!" he snarls as he slaps me, pounding hard with each word as he calls me names through gritted teeth. "Dirty fucking whore!!...........tease MY cock............bitch!!!" The vicious slaps move from my bruised face to my sore slut tits as he rapes me, punishing me for simply going home at night. His cock is so big, such a brutal thug as he fucks me, making me scream and cry, my makeup all messy now, smudged whorish paint all over my beautiful, slapped up face. His face is very close to mine, and his mouth covers my glossed lips in a claiming kiss, his tongue delving deep. His lips move to my neck, kissing along my jaw line and under my ear, growling dirty things to me as he fucks me, his hands slide along my slender arms, pushing them up overhead, my wrists pinned with one strong hand, the other around my big, firm mound of tit flesh, squeezing hard as he mumbles hotly. "Tight little whore.......so good..........mmmmmm, so wet.....cunt! Do the splits, Candie!" I spread my long legs out to the sides, pointing my toes, legs flexed, my tender little cunt completely vulnerable. "Take it, Candie......every inch." He stabs his long, thick, rock hard cock in over and over. Raising himself up a bit, his gazes wanders down each mile of my model-like legs, then back to my whorish little doll face. "Beg for my cum, Candie. I know you want it," he commands. With teary eyes and a screaming well-punished cunt, my trembling lips move, the words drawn from some porn I'd watched in the past. "Ooooo, please cum in my naughty little pussy sir! Pleeeeeease give me ALL your cum! It's all I want! Pretty please, sir!" At that, his load explodes deep inside me, his groan so deep, lusty, loud....so loud it's frightening. It's the most satisfied sound I've ever heard. He delivers one more vicious slap to my face before pulling his wet cock free of my spasming slut hole. "You'll crawl to me, get out your tits, and beg to lick this cock clean, Candie. Don't think for a second you are anywhere near finished being my whore today." Slipping from my clenching cunt, and leaving me laying here, legs closing, and chest heaving for breath, he rises and observes his work. As I sob and hold my bruised pussy, he flicks my arm back with his foot, making me lay there, sweating, marked up, with his cum oozing from my reddened pussy. He steps between my long legs, moving them wide with his stance. "Gyrate your hips and tell me how much you loved it, Candie," he says, his voice a low, husky whisper, his huge cock hanging, glistening with my juices. A Sweet Touch Ch. 02 My cheeks flame again, which has me continuously self conscious. I'm a stripper blushing shamefully at this man's lewd demands. His eyes rake my flesh, lingering at every tender spot, then fixating on my bare cunt as I comply, hips rotating slowly as I moan and tell him what he wants to hear. I wince as I feel my split, swollen lip and wonder what my pretty face looks like now. "Mmmm, I loved every hard inch of your cock, sir....you fuck soooo good! I came so hard, over and over!" I whisper hotly, ending with a whorish little squeal as I feel my cunt clench inside and spit out more of his thick jizz. With a smirk, he turns and jumps down from the stage, snapping his fingers at me like a trained pet. I follow, on hands and knees of course, pantyless, in heels and the tight, constricting red latex top I danced in. I move slowly, catlike, every toned, delicate muscle flexing with the promise of firm, satisfying flesh to be spanked, squeezed and bitten, the taste of blood in my mouth as I gingerly lick at my lips. He motions with a single finger for me to come close and submit as he clips the leash to my collar again. "Kneel," he says softly, his voice so sensual, a tone of tenderness about it, though he has not been tender in the least. I kneel at his feet, watching his movements, feeling a pang of fear as he leans over, merely to reposition my body, so that the kneel is to his liking. I sit on my heels with my thighs wide apart, and my hands behind me, my pretty chin up, and my eyes at attention. "This is how you kneel to a Master, Candie. I want you to look at me and stay still until I tell you otherwise." He waits, patient for my reply. "Yes Sir," I answer and it satisfies immediately. I realize those two words will often suffice. "You are my ball licker, Candie. Say it," he instructs as he leans back in his chair, thighs spread, his sticky sac hanging, and resting on the leather, his spent cock lying against his belly. "I am your ball licker, sir," I repeat, my voice controlled, contriving an obedient sound, hushed and without hesitation. "What are you, Candie?" His cruel smirk embarrasses me as he sips his drink, savoring it before swallowing audibly. "I am your ball licker, sir," I say again, a little more confident of the title. "No..........you are A ball licker, Candie. You will lick anyone's balls, won't you?" he presses, extracting my humiliation with such skill. I am hesitant. I know I will have to lick his balls, and the idea shocks me. My boyfriends have never asked that of me. I had no idea, really, that anyone would want such a thing after sex. Now it's so obvious. Of course men want that. I shake my head and receive a wicked slap to my already bruised face. "Tell me what you are, whore!" His fingers digging into my cheeks as he holds my face, squeezing as I reply. "I am a ball licker, sir. I will lick..........I will lick anyone's balls." His fingers release as my beautiful eyes fill with tears. His face shows no signs of pity as he stares, a hard, cold expression as he snarls, "Get your tits out." "Yes, sir," again suffices as my fingers tremble at the laces, loosening the tight, red latex top, allowing me to lift it up and off. "No, not like that. Don't take it off." My head snaps up, looking at him for instruction. He peels the tight rubber down, exposing my huge tits, and pinches my nipples between his thumbs and fingers, pulling me to him, making me gasp at the pain as he studies my expressions, squeezing harder and harder until I can't take it anymore, and scream, chin quivering as tears roll down my cheeks. "Now lick your cunt mess from my balls." I nod and feel such relief when he releases my incredibly tender nipples to lean back, relaxing as I lap at his sticky sac, wet faced, smeared up like a used doll, his hands idly playing with my long silky pigtails. I lick the wrinkly skin there, tasting my own cum. Such a sweet, horny flavor, and I am glad for that at least. After licking his ball sack tenderly for what seems like a long while, I hear him murmur to me, telling me to be thorough. So far, I have focused on the top, sides and undercurve, avoiding the sweaty area up and underneath. I realize he means for me to get up in there and lick, abandoning every human right I thought I had. Silly, naive Candie. He scoots down, lifting his knees, his nice, muscular legs spread, exposing his asshole and perineum. Then he says the words I have been dreading. The words that have been in the back of my mind. "Get your slutty little tongue in my ass, now, Candie." In his ass! His ass!!! I must have looked horrified, as his dark laughter permeates my fog of shock. Suddenly, he has me face to face, pulling the leash on my collar, his nose nearly touching mine. He laughs again before kissing me, deeply, gripping both pigtails in one fist, pulling slowly back until I am sharply arched. I scream rawly as I feel the nipple clamps close around each tender nub. "Eventually, you will beg to lick me there, Candie. Now let's try again." He pauses to thump the clips, drawing squeals of pain before saying again, "Get your tongue.....in my ASS, Candie". And if that wasn't enough to tear me down to nothing, he commands, "You say yes MASTER." With tears still rolling down my cheeks in self pity, I say it, all of it. "P-please......Master....... may I lick your asshole?" His harsh grip in my hair releases, and he brings me face to face once more, his eyes lighted, pleased. "Yes you may, Candie. Let's see how talented your tongue can be." Inside I am elated, realization washing over me. I say the right words, I do the right deeds, and he will be pleased. Instantly I am somehow released, feeling freer than I have ever felt. My wet little tonguemtip at his pucker, touching lightly, his moan of pleasure urging me on, his cock growing quickly hard again. I clear my mind, like when I first went on stage to strip, pushing all fear aside, going for the brass ring, giving a performance worthy of an award. I screw my whorish tongue up into his ass, deep, wiggling it, frenching it with my pretty little mouth, tonguing so eagerly, and learning how to please my captor with each passing hour. My tongue is at his ass, balls and cock until I feel like it will simply not function. Long, slow, sensuous licks up the length of his cock, sucking his balls, working back to his ass, being the best little whore slave I can be. At last he groans loudly, standing abruptly, his hands holding my head, his voice lusty. "Hands back Candie," is all he says before he begins fucking my mouth, fucking my tight throat, my hands clasped tightly, fighting the urge to push him away, to stop him from hurting me. I know I can't stop him. I gag hard, over and over as he growls and pounds my throat like a cunt, holding my head tight, stopping at last with his cock fully lodged in my throat, erupting another hot load of jizz, forcing every drop into my body. He falls into his chair, spent and tired, his head back as he mumbles words of satisfaction. Finally, as if he remembers I am here, he looks at me, but with different eyes. His expression is puzzling, and I can't quite pin it down. Angry, perhaps, proud, maybe....proud his instruction was clear. Passion, perhaps? I am so bleary eyed and tired myself, I can't seem to focus. "What to do about your gooey little cunt?" he says, catching me off guard. "It will be your job to lick up all the seed I spill, Candie. You will worship my cum as you worship your Master." I nod and whisper, "Yes, Sir," wincing as my lip cracks, splitting again from such violent use. "Lay back and spread your legs, whore, and dip my cum from your cunt. That's right, very good, Candie, now suck it from your finger...........very good, little slut, close those lips around your finger and moan." I hum my pleasure at tasting his seed and mine, wishing I could simply shower and go home. I wonder when he will let me go.........I wonder when he'll take off these excruciating nipple clips..... "Enjoy it, slut. You'll be dipping it from your ass soon," he smirks, as he eyes my tight little pink pucker. His grin chills me as plans for my tight little nether hole pass behind his eyes. He draws his nice leather gloves from a small drawer in the table beside him and slides them on. "Let's see how much more cum you'll be fed tonight, Candie bitch." Catlike, he crawls up stealthy between my long legs, an animal like growl sends shivers up and down my body. His finger, thick with encasing leather, forces up into my clenching cunt, his other hand at my slender throat, squeezing a bit, his eyes locked with mine. He pumps his hand hard, brutally drilling me, a maniacal expression on his face as he makes me whimper in pain and cum, screwing me so hard, his face reddening with the effort. My throat squeezed harder, porn tits bouncing, and my naughty slutty cunt clenching around his finger. "Legs in the splits, Candie!" he commands, making me spread wider for his rape, making me expose my tender pussy to his slamming thrusts, my choked yelps only encouraging him. After cumming over and over, suddenly his wet gloved finger is in my mouth, gagging me, fucking my throat a moment before pulling free. His finger at my quivering damaged lips, pressing. "Ssssshhhhh, suck," he instructs. He slips the wet finger into my mouth, gentle this time, expecting me to respond. Weakly, I suckle, and his smile relieves me. His hands slide down my body and he lifts me to my feet, hoisting me over his shoulder. My body is limp, exhausted. I hardly remember hitting the pillow and hearing the door click shut and lock behind him. A Sweet Touch Ch. 03 My dreams swirl nonsensically, my brain frantically trying to wrap around what's happened to my world. I haven't been home in days, nor to work, and I wonder what is going on out there. A stream of light wakes me. It is from a narrow band of thick glass blocks near the ceiling. I hadn't noticed them until now, so it must not have been daytime when I was here before. MY thoughts drift to girlfriends that have surely begun to worry by now. This has been too long a disappearance even for me. I am beginning to feel saddened that I've been estranged from my family, and I miss them. I turn over, and the sheets feel so silky along the line of my body. My nipples hurt so much, yet a quick brush of my hand confirms that the nipple clamps have been removed. I gingerly examine my tender pussy with soft fingertips, and find that the rawness has subsided a bit. My eyes close a moment, as I gather the strength to pull myself up and look in the mirror. I perch naked on the small, upholstered chair at the vanity, and lean in to touch my bruises. My split lips have begun to heal, but they are still swollen and tender. I realize my face is clean, and the makeup has been fully removed, and probably some antiseptic has been applied to my wounds. My mouth tastes awful from the thorough ass tonguing I gave my captor last night. My first order of business is gargling, brushing my teeth, and gargling again. As I emerge from the bathroom, the sudden noise of the doorknob turning makes me jump. I look up to see my captor enter, looking very refreshed and pleasant, with his arms full of clothing. "Good morning, Candie, I hope I didn't startle you too much." He smiles warmly as he dumps the armload of fabric onto the small sofa. "Good morning," I return, softly and politely, feeling a strange sensation sitting naked in the daylight. Somehow I feel more exposed than ever. "Today you have a visitor. Another gentleman from the club who's been watching you dance." He takes a casual seat on the sofa next to the pile, and begins pawing through it. My heart pounds as a terrible deathmask film flashes through my mind, of the disgusting, leering faces of stripjoint clientele. Which one could be my visitor? "It's very important that you follow my instructions about how to behave with him.....do you understand, Candie?" He takes a teacher/student role, without the slightest hint of malice in his eyes. I nod and, as he is apparently satisfied with that, he moves on. "I want you to get dolled up, and I mean it. I want you looking like a child's doll today, in this outfit, with your hair and makeup done the same way you had it when you gave me that....that steamy performance onstage." He exhales and gives his cock a rub as he recalls how I looked for him on the stage he built just for me. "When you meet this man, I want you to be completely silent, curtsy, and do what he tells you to do. I want you to grind against his cock in his lap without being told. If I catch you speaking, and trust me, nothing gets by me in this house, your darling little cunt will get beat ten times harder than I beat it already. Do you understand?" I answer yes with enough enthusiasm to bring a wicked smirk to his lips. "Candie, he has been very explicit in his desires. I will not allow him to deviate from the agreed upon course of action. Now get in my lap and thank me." I hurry to his lap, and whisper thank you, Sir, without understanding why. As if he read my mind, he growls, "Thank me for turning you out like the dirty little whore you are." He taunts me as his fingers play at my pussy lips, my long legs spreading instinctually, my silken thighs sliding over his widespread lap. I resent the whole thing. I resent being "turned out" and called a whore in this way. Me and the other girls I worked with always considered ourselves better than street hookers. None of my friends ever went over that line with clients, and the few girls that did were shunned from the inner circle. Now it all seems so petty, so wrong for me to have been snotty to the real whores and so unjustly judgemental. Didn't they have feelings too? Were they not human beings? "Thank you for turning me out sir," I say with flamed cheeks. "And?" he demands. "Thank you for turning me out like the dirty little whore I am, sir." I complete the degrading sentence about myself, and, as I drown in a strange sad, angry, pitiful ocean, his lips cover mine, sweeping me away, his finger gently fucking me, and his tongue delving ever so sweetly, affectionately, into my mouth. He murmurs, "My girl," into the kiss and his hand moves faster, harder, his palm spanking my wet cuntlips as he pistons his finger, pressing my spot, making me squirm and cum. "Say it, Candie," he growls as he makes me whimper and shake. I know what to say, I know what he wants, and I realize I want to say it, too. Another lightning bolt strikes my heart as I whisper the words. "Thank you Master!" He pulls his dripping wet finger from me and holds it to my lips. I open and accept it, wrapping my pretty mouth around the honeyed digit, and suckle it with slow sensuality. With a tender smile he scoops me up, laying me on the bed, quickly shedding his clothes. His body is gorgeous. His muscles are long and lean, but not bulky or bulging in the least. I dislike bulges all over a man, and he would have been my type had I ever thought to date a client. His cock is spectacular, standing out from his body, fully erect and wet at the tip. His appearance would be plain to most women I guess, but to me, an average looking man fuels my fantasies. He descends on me quickly, hungrily, taking me, fucking me in the most heated and, well, normal way I could imagine. There is no pain except for the size of his cock hurting my tight cunt, and no choking, no name calling, no spanks, and no hair pulling. He simply and earnestly fucks me, with focus and drive, with his hands on my tits, squeezing a little. I find I am craving more. Though I am cumming hard, I feel this is not enough. "Beg me," he commands. Again, the connection he has to my thoughts is uncanny. "Beg your Master for what you need, girl," he growls. I know immediately what I need, what I have learned to crave in such a short time. "Please hurt me, Master.....please....pretty please, I need you to hurt me." I plead for this, feeling deeply filthy as I do. His expression changes, darkening behind his eyes as he holds my wrists above my head, pressing down hard with one strong hand, and slapping my face and tits with the other. "You like that, Candie? You need Master to punish you, don't you......you love it." He growls it without actually questioning me. He is simply stating the facts. His teeth close on my left tit, and he bites down hard around my nipple. He grunts and shoots his load as I scream and stiffen, afraid he's biting my nipple off. He stops his biting, but suckles as I bleed. He raises his head to look at me carefully. "This is mine, isn't it, Candie?" He licks my bleeding nipple with his eyes fixed on mine. I nod slowly and tell him that yes, it his, it is Master's nipple, Master's blood...Master's right to take it. "That's a good girl, Candie, a very good girl. Now get that wound washed and get yourself ready to be presented." He surprises me by stepping into my shower while I pour some hydrogen peroxide onto my nipple. It foams angrily, bubbling out the germs. He steps out in a billow of steam, wet, naked, and shaking his wet hair. His eyes are soft as I hand him a towel. "Thank you, Candie. Now get that fine ass of yours in there." He ushers me in the shower, and is gone, his clothes are gone, and the door is locked when I emerge, fresh and clean. I float through the motions, moisturizing my smooth, pretty skin, pulling on the slutty, frilly little outfit, styling my long, shiny hair in two high pigtails, and applying my makeup as instructed, all while trying to absorb what just happened. Am I developing feelings for this sadist? This kidnapper? Am I one of those brainwashed people I've read about? Ultimately, I decide that the questions are troubling and dismiss them in favor of "going with the flow". That philosophy has always worked for me before, so why not now. There is no need to make this situation more stressful. I brush aside tugging, lingering feelings of fear and fury. I need to let go of those things to get through this ordeal. Posing in front the mirror, preening in the dollish outfit, I nearly laugh. The dress is a babydoll shortie, covering only half the frilled-bottom panties that match. The white fabric is just like any lacy thing you'd see on a child's doll at the store, with baby blue ribbons on the cap sleeves and around the neckline, the sash a wide swath of blue satin, tied in an oversized bow at the small of my back. If I wasn't so full in the tits, I'd think I was meeting a pedo. Some men just like the look I suppose, on grown women. The shoes are black patent leather maryjanes with insanely high heels, the look completed with the white lace ankle socks. I feel like a very dirty Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. I had seen an old porn of that somewhere, and I remember thinking it was kinda hot when the little men swarmed over her. I hear a soft knock at the door, and I turn, expecting to see my new Master. Instead, an older Asian woman enters, taking tiny, quick steps toward me. She takes my hand and roughly pulls me to my feet to lead me out. Her petit size belies her true strength. She tugs me along without a single word, her face as etched in stone as any gargoyle. She leads me to an open area bathed in a soft pool of light, the darkness surrounding us. We stop in front of a portly man sitting in a Victorian style chair. He is wearing a plain black suit, and his greasy hair is styled in a sparse comb-over. His chubby little fingers clutch a drink, imprinting the condensation on the smooth crystal. I remember to keep silent as he looks me up and down. I do not remember this man from the club. "Well hello there, Candie." He has an oily smile that makes me instantly on edge. Silently I curtsy to his delight and he pats his lap. He sets his drink on the little table beside him and picks up a long, twisty lollipop. "Look what I've got for you, little girl. Come here." He pats his fat lap again. I sit down, squirming into place as he gathers me close, holding the lolly to my lips. "Lick it until I tell you to stop." I begin moving my hips in a nearly involuntary motion as I tongue the phallice. I feel his cock stiffen and poke my tender pussy through his pants. He begins to mutter, and sweat as I grind his hard cock and lick the lollipop. "Mmm, you dirty little slut.Mmmmmm, yes, you are so hot, dirty girl, dirty little whore.........mmmmmmmm.........you want it.......you want it, oh yes you do." He mutters through gritted teeth, as my tongue teases the lolly, miming licking his cock I drive him crazy with my squirming and grinding. He tells me to spread my legs as he turns me to lean back against him, with my legs dangling from each arm of the chair. He rubs my cunt, mashing moist frilly lips around under the soft satin panties. He makes me wet enough to soak through the fabric. His hand slips into my panties and I am fingered for the second time today. His thick, sausage like finger pulses in and out, filling my snug little fuckhole. His muttering is becoming increasingly unintelligible, more growling than speaking. All the sudden I hear him groan, and feel him stiffen, and I know he has cum in his pants, his insistent screw of my pretty puss slowing as he winds down. "Look what you made me do, you naughty little bitch. Get up." I hop up immediately, and with a bit of difficulty, he pulls himself to his feet to grab one of my pigtails. I yelp in pain as he drags me to a waist high metal bar. The well-licked lolly slips, clatters, fragmenting on the floor at my feet. "Bend over the bar, spread your legs and grab your ankles, you dirty little brat," he growls as he pulls some thin nylon rope from his pocket. I begin to feel apprehensive as his attitude shifts to anger. I bend over the bar and grasp my slim ankles as he gets to his knees, huffing and puffing, wrapping my wrists to my ankles in tight loops. He brings the rope under the V in my high heels. I can't move, though I tug hard and wriggle, testing my bonds. I see him get heavily to his feet and lose sight of his pudgy, reddened little face. "That hot little cunt needs some cooling, doesn't it, slut." He yanks my frilly panties down and slips one of the large ice cubes from his drink into my tight cunt, instantly making me struggle against the biting cold of it. Before I have a chance to adjust, I feel a large paddle against my asscheeks. I can't help screaming as the severe pain shoots through my body. My shrill, raw cries echo in the vast underground chamber. A wooden paddle feels more wicked than I had ever imagined. He cruelly welts one cheek, then the other, whacking away until he is satisfied with the blood redness of my "naughty bottom". I have formed a puddle with my bawling. The ice cube melts quickly in my aching little cunthole. The sticky melted cube and my slut juices mix and streak sexily down my inner thighs and calves to moisten the tops of the saucy little socks as I struggle. His breathing is labored as if he can't go on. I am certain he would spank my poor little bottom black and blue if he had been better shape. Suddenly something soft and silky glides around my neck, and I hear him mutter more dirty things at me. I think it's a scarf of some sort. He pulls back on it like reins, choking me, arching my neck back painfully. I am scared, and unable to stop him. I am panicked...it hurts and I can't breathe! I realize he is choking me too hard for play. At that instant the pressure stops, and I feel his chubby little hands grip my shoulders. I hear a strange gurgling sound and feel his hands draw slowly down my back. I can see back between my legs as his body drops behind me, and in front of my Master's feet. My insides freeze as the thin stripe of crimson across his fat neck begins to run freely. I gulp down air, my throat is raw and my neck burns where the scarf chafed. Frantically, I pull at the ropes, freaked out by the dead man and my inability to get loose. A large, sharp knife is all I can see other than Master's legs. Master's voice is soothing as he squats down and runs the tip of the knife all the way up one trembling, dainty leg. "I give people what they deserve, Candie." There is a long pause before I feel the tip at my tender clit. My body tenses in fear, yet I cum the instant his finger slides in my wet cunt and curls to the g-spot. "Very good, slave. Cum for me." His breaths feel so steamy on the smooth silk of my thigh. He fingers me slowly as he presses the sharp tip of his blade a little harder against my stiffening clit. I cry out as the point breaks the skin and pierces my hard little pearl, yet still, I cum with a cunt clench so hard it makes him chuckle. His knife makes short work of slicing me free. I stay put until I feel his guiding press to my shoulders. I straighten and turn my shocked gaze to him. He takes my hand in his and I step gingerly over the still body. I avoid the pooling blood to follow him like a lamb, with complete trust and adoration, though my own blood trickles halfway down my soft, toned inner thighs. I am in awe of what just happened, and despite the fact that I am captive, and have been sexually tortured for his pleasure, I am beginning to feel something for this man, something deep. Maybe I need to be slapped and raped....maybe I need to feel this powerless, and this feminine. Maybe I'm sick, but there is something deliberate about the way that he has not once been unkind or unfair to me. He has not called me a name I am not, nor given me less than I deserve. He is making me feel pure, and right as he forces me to see myself as I really am and to see him the way he is. He is powerful and restrained, intelligent, primal in his desires and masculine in every way. He has made me realize I love doing the filthiest things for him. No one else has ever made me cum as hard as he has. I am amazed at his innate understanding of what it is to be a slave, and a Master. Back in my little room, a light continental breakfast has been laid out for us, and I am eager for a cup of the aromatic coffee. He settles into the sofa and points to his feet, where I kneel in the way he has taught me. His smile soothes me and I feel pride in this, the simplest of acts. "I'd like you to serve me coffee, then pour some for yourself, Candie." He waits patiently as I give this a moment of thought. "Just let it come naturally, kitten," he encourages. I brighten and smile, and politely ask him how he takes his coffee. Of course! I am a hostess from the floor. This is not a difficult concept to grasp. The give and take progresses until we have had some coffee, some fruit and some pastry. He allows only a small bite of pastry for me, then opens what looks like a small sugar bowl, full of pills. "These are not drugs, Candie. These are vitamins, minerals, and herbal supplements. I will be in charge of your every function, including your feeding. Take them." Without hesitation, I take the various pills and feel even more like a well kept pet. The idea of a Master caring for me is appealing to me despite my upbringing. I had always been taught to care for myself and never to get in a position that tied me to a man, forcing my dependence on him. "Thank you, Master." The phrase has become automatic, and I feel good repeating it. "It pleases me that you seem to have stopped resisting. It seems as though you have begun to enjoy your new role, in fact." He places his coffee cup on the table, his expression thoughtful as his brow creases. He tilts my face to his with a single finger under my chin, his dark eyes intense as he gazes deeply. My heart races and I feel butterflies in my stomach as he looks at me that way. The awful morning I had seems to melt away and the vision of the murdered man is fading. I feel myself mesmerized, and I let it happen. I want it to happen. This feels good, and I am not frightened anymore. "I have not taken your tight little asshole yet, my little whore. Today you'll experience my favorite power tool." His grin grows wicked, dark, and I feel my cunt tighten for him. I dislike the anal sex I've had before, and I avoid it. Fortunately, most of the men I've been with didn't try for it. He fastens my collar in place and I feel overwhelmed with a sense of security. I follow his heels closely as he leads me to my next lesson.