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Author Topic: My Control, Her Ordeal (REVISITED)  (Read 1201 times)

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Offline CerealRapist

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My Control, Her Ordeal (REVISITED)
« on: September 19, 2018, 08:08:09 AM »
I slipped my hands downward from the smooth skin along her tailbone to her bare ass cheeks.  I listened to her whimper as my fingertips lingered over the contours of her delectable body.  She began to weep when I revisited her pussy lips with my thumbs n’ forefingers.  Rocking there ‘neath a single 100-watt bulb with her arms strung up painfully above her head.  I allowed her to moan and whine until a curt ‘shut the fuck up’ elicited the mandatory ‘yes, master’ from her filthy mouth.  That’s when I decided to dive in and find her clitoris with my roving fingers.  She buckled, went up on tip-toe, and (I’m assuming) wisely convinced herself NOT to plead for mercy.

She was afraid of my cock.  Because it hurt her.  And she was revolted by my cum.  Because it tasted vile inside her aforementioned filthy mouth.  But what my pretty guest truly, truly hated were my hands. 

My hands laying claim to her naked, strung up body.

“Who gets to fuck you?”

This lovely little half-groan exited her lips as she took in my query and tried to go up higher on her toes to alleviate the discomfort of having my hands probing her exposed pussy.  There were still these gorgeous traces of mascara streaking her pale face and her breasts had this enticing way of bobbing whenever she bit her lip in abject shame.  I thought I detected a wince of pain as she contorted her helpless body one more time even as my delving fingertips reached inward…ever inward.  I chuckled and warned my naked marionette that she’d suffer needlessly if I had to ask my simple question a second time.   

“You s-sir.  You g-get to fuck me these past four days.  Only y-you, sir.  I submit.”

She hated my hands.  Hated the ownership they conveyed as – still moist – they retreated from her pussy to trek northward and cup her bobbing breasts.  Her nipples were still sensitive…from yesterday.  And the day before.  So I made sure to coax the odd wince or two from her pretty face as my hands kneaded her pale breasts and pinched her light brown nipples.  She tried to stifle the cramping in her sexy legs by adjusting her weight…left foot, right foot…right foot, left foot.  And whimpered like the pig she’d always been when I sneered that she had better speak up if she expected to enjoy relatively unblemished breasts for the foreseeable future……

“YOU SIR!  My, my master!   Only YOU get to fuck me sir!  That’s as it should be.  I’m owned…by you Master.  And only you get to enjoy my body.  Th-thank you for ch-choosing me sir.  Thank you so much.”

She was deathly afraid of the cock that so hurt her.  And reviled the fresh, warm cum that had visited her lips and throat so often in the past four days.  But what my latest victim truly hated were my hands.  The control they exerted over her body.  And her ultimate fate.  My hands left her breasts so that they could bob freely again…nipples aching, nipples throbbing.  The hands she hated left her breasts and began tracing the lines of her mascara marred face.  Braille for a serial rapist.

“That’s better.  Now…make a gift of yourself.  To me.  And you’d better mean EVERY…SINGLE…WORD.”

Crying uncontrollably.  Sobbing loudly.  I could feel her tears on my fingers as I played with her kissable lips, grazed her sensual eyelashes and caressed her pale cheeks.  I knew her shoulders ached…could sense the tightening in her hamstrings.  My hands – my devilish hands – took inventory of her still beautiful face as my latest demand marinated inside her wracked brain.  I gave her a few extra seconds.  When she spoke, I was certain she’d been utterly defeated.

My hands had won.

“Sir…would you please, would you m-most mercifully, accept the gift of my…of my worthless b-body for your sexual pleasure.  Please Master, I only have what little value I can possess whenever you’re raping m-me.  Please accept this humble gift sir.  Pl-please.  I’m begging you.  Fuck me again.  You…you own me s-sir.  I’m…I’m…I’m absolutely nothing if my Master isn’t enjoying my cunt.  Please rape m-me as much as you’d like sir.  I give you my body, my self and my life.  Just pl-please, please, please don’t hurt me anymore Master.  I’ll be good…I’ll b-be yours.  Only you get to fuck me Master………”

My cock.  My sperm.  My hands.  The trinity of shame.  I was pleased with my fresh whore.

So I lowered her down onto her knees – wrists still tethered above her head – and decided to ‘hurt’ the back of her throat again with my cock.  Then I’d give her a month’s worth of revulsion by ejaculating square in her mascara-streaked face.  And my hands?  My demonic hands?  They’d be gripping her head tight via fistfuls of her hair.  Pinning her face still…forcing her ruined mouth to remain wide open.  Gripping fingerfuls of hair tight, tight, tight astride her temples.  I’d hurt her with my cock and humiliate her with my sperm.  But my hands would keep her under control.   
« Last Edit: January 04, 2020, 08:56:34 AM by CerealRapist »

Offline Marie95

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Re: My Control, Her Ordeal
« Reply #1 on: September 21, 2018, 11:08:12 PM »
 "humiliate her with my sperm: and the "trinity of shame."  Your words make me feel many things.  I can't believe I didn't see this until tonight.  Thank you for writing this. 
I belong to Cereal Rapist.  I am His property.

Offline CerealRapist

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Re: My Control, Her Ordeal
« Reply #2 on: September 23, 2018, 05:58:33 AM »
"humiliate her with my sperm: and the "trinity of shame."  Your words make me feel many things.  I can't believe I didn't see this until tonight.  Thank you for writing this.

You're very, very welcome. Glad you reacted to the 'trinity' reference. It's a high compliment knowing that my words can cause you to "feel many things".

As opposed to the unfortunate girls in my stories who pretty much just feel pain. And shame.

:O

cR

Offline CerealRapist

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Re: My Control, Her Ordeal (REVISITED)
« Reply #3 on: January 04, 2020, 08:53:43 AM »
You have to catch her first.  You notice her...follow her...recon her.  Ultimately you bask in the warmth of sadism when you 'decide' upon her.  Dozens and dozens of objects to consider.  But you dedicate yourself to obtaining her.  Her body, her face, her future.  She becomes a victim even before the first time you slap her wickedly across the face. 

Still, you have to catch her first.

The boots she's wearing may slow her down...but they're also weapons that might be used against you.  Her short denims reveal flesh and her thin t-shirt obscures breasts...but her eyes contain enough fight to make you wary.  Because you have to catch her first.  And you have to obtain her in such a way that what's left of her is still viable enough for your basement.  You seek to control her...you exist to submit her to an ordeal.  But you have to catch the whore first.

I'm following her now.  She's been noticed.  She's been selected.  So I'm following the stride of those dangerous boots.  And taking in the pleasure that the sight of her denim-free flesh and bobbing breasts affords me.  Yes, I'm following this object that has drifted like a leaf across my path.  I intend to catch her.  I'm preparing to strike.  I simply need the precise opportunity and moment to act.  Her freedom ticks away as I coil in anticipation. 

There.  The bend in the Plaza.  Some prey turns left...but this little dainty in the cute boots and short shorts veers correctly.  To the right.  Towards the woods.  I say a mocking prayer thanking the gods for silly whores who walk alone and turn to the right after exiting the Plaza.  I acknowledge the cover and concealment of the woods as I follow this thing I crave further and further away from humanity.  In the direction of isolation.

You have to catch her first.  So I quicken my pace, caress the ivory handle of the stiletto blade in my side pocket and narrow the distance between my hands and her breasts.  I adore Control.  And this slut's Ordeal is about to begin.

Offline drifterzlife

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Re: My Control, Her Ordeal (REVISITED)
« Reply #4 on: January 05, 2020, 05:13:50 AM »
YES YES please keep going!  :*

Offline CerealRapist

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Re: My Control, Her Ordeal (REVISITED)
« Reply #5 on: January 09, 2020, 09:09:38 AM »
YES YES please keep going!  :*

You have to time these things.  Your own pace...compared to her increasingly frantic flight.  She cuts a darting glance back at you.  Then you quick-step just as soon as her frightened eyes return to the front.  Another over the shoulder look back at you...as her footfalls of retreat go rapid.  Too late.  You've got it timed perfectly.  Because just as your imminent slave turns in alarm to gauge your approach (before she dares to break into a sprint) you aim a scissor-tackle just below her knees.

And she goes down.

You've timed it perfectly.  She's isolated...and disorientated from an adrenaline spike fueled by shear terror.  Handicapped by a betrayal in the form of a compensating mechanism that assures her - even as her breasts impact the walkway - 'This is not happening!  This is not real!'  So you confirm to this slut what's real and what's happening by means of a cruel, biting elbow that swings from on high to land hard into her belly.  THAMP!  The stone walkway serves as the anvil beneath her body.  Violently forcing air from her lungs to leap almost soundlessly into the air.  Noiselessly.  You like that...so a free hand clamps over your prey's filthy mouth.  To extinguish any disturbing future 'noise'.  Your insurance policy - the thin bladed stiletto you keep in reserve deep within your cargo pocket - throbs with sentient anticipation.

Despite the terror, despite the unreality, she immediately fights.  Squirming, writhing, bucking, kicking.  Yet it remains relatively silent, here in the South Woods...aside from the grating friction of hardscrabble ground as you drag her and drag her  to the hedges.  To further isolation.  To a place you can beat her.  Beat her down.

Noiselessly.  Except for the exquisite, muffled chords of her screams that your strong left hand keeps stifled within her throat.  You pull her along the grass and rocks (landing another vicious elbow across the top of her back - THOMP!) and catch the wide surprise and deep seated fear in her disbelieving eyes.  As she's being hauled ass-first by her denims to the hedges. 

A few more yards.  No one has heard...no one has intervened.  Just a few more yards and you can beat her half senseless.  You can show her the steely blade with its razor edge intended for the fabric of her bra and her panties.  You can let her whimper soundlessly...you can let her squirm pathetically.  Just a few more yards to the safety and seclusion of the hedges and you can finally begin to show her how worthless she is. 

Worthless.  That is, until you get her back to your basement.  Until she's spread-eagled upon your daybed.  Only then can you teach the whore where her sole value lies.  Once you begin to use her to your heart's content.  Your timing was perfect.  Just double-down on these brutal punches to her ribs once she's safe behind the hedges.  Terrorize her with the stiletto.  Now that she's gone from the world forever......

Offline drifterzlife

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Re: My Control, Her Ordeal (REVISITED)
« Reply #6 on: January 09, 2020, 12:48:41 PM »
Oh my gawd that was awesome. Yes that’s definitely how you’d be able to catch me. I mean, her.  Holy Hell that gave me chills. I’m totally squirming.....

:bateyes:

Offline CerealRapist

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Re: My Control, Her Ordeal (REVISITED)
« Reply #7 on: January 13, 2020, 02:44:20 PM »
I handle her as I would a wildcat in a snare.  My left hand stays firmly clamped over her mouth as she struggles beneath my weight atop the grass.  Behind the hedge.  Her arms don't concern me...but for the second (no! third) time she swipes at me with those confounded boots.  So I do what I have to do.  I do to her only what she deserves to endure.

My right hand locks onto a flailing wrist...and I pull up her one arm painfully behind her until her shoulder nearly gives way.  I listen with satisfaction to the grunt of intense pain as her attention goes to absorbing physical discomfort instead of trying to kick herself free.  As she partially submits herself, partially fatigues herself I cram a square of white cloth deep inside her mouth.  To muffle her...frighten her...humiliate her.  This is all going well.  My Plaza walker is pinioned, fractionally gagged and tiring noticeably.

So I take the opportunity to punch her three times in the ribs.  Above the hem of her slutty Daisy Dukes:

Oooof!  Uuuummpphh!  Muuuugghhhh!

Pain, lack of oxygen and naked terror combine to paralyze the victim beneath me atop the grass behind the hedge.  I take two deep breaths myself...and commence to mount and straddle her prone, face-down body from behind.  So that I can bind - painfully bind - both her wrists behind her back.  So that I can slap a wide strip of silver duct tape around her head and face to firmly secure the fabric filling her mouth. 

Then 'we' rest.  She beneath me...me atop her worthless body.  Already her dignity is shattered.  In the weeks ahead I'll work on disintegrating her very identity.

Sexually.

I bend forward until my lips are near her downtrodden face.  She's sucking dirt beneath me...my weight the anchor that will tether her to slavery.  We both can smell the breeze here in our special place; behind the hedge.  We both can hear - from afar - the shouts and clatter of free women back at the Plaza.  The Plaza...so far away now, so long ago.  So I whisper in her ear as our faces take in the scent of grass and pine cones.  I need to tell her she cannot return to the Plaza.  I desire to imprison her within the Moment.

"You keep still whore and perhaps I won't wrench your filthy elbows from their sockets!  LIE STILL BITCH!  You...you owe me.  Big time.  Today is the worst day of your life slut.  And tomorrow?  Tomorrow's going to be worse......"   

Offline drifterzlife

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Re: My Control, Her Ordeal (REVISITED)
« Reply #8 on: January 13, 2020, 02:59:14 PM »
Oh my gawd........I'm breathless and squealing with excitement........Oh my fucking gawd!

I'm literally shaking right now......
« Last Edit: January 13, 2020, 03:03:58 PM by drifterzlife »

Offline CerealRapist

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Re: My Control, Her Ordeal (REVISITED)
« Reply #9 on: January 14, 2020, 01:03:42 AM »
Oh my gawd........I'm breathless and squealing with excitement........Oh my fucking gawd!

I'm literally shaking right now......


I will take that as a decided compliment.  Good girl.  Very, very good girl...

cR

 

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