Chapter 14

by Sebastian X

Miss Theodora Throsbie, the sweet little blue-eyed blonde who had once taught accounting at the night school I attended, made an excellent sex slave. She invariably begged me not to do whatever I had set my mind on and, despite loud and tearful protests while I was pleasuring myself with her, she nearly always reached a noisy juddering climax.

I had planned to keep the petite twenty-something year old in my boat-shed studio for only a short time before surrendering her to my sister-in-law Kim. Kim was going to train Theodora for her new role as concubine and financial adviser to a minor Middle Eastern sheik. Events in that part of the world put the plan on hold and Kim was happy for the former lecturer in accountancy to live at my place for a short time. Security wasn't a problem. Either I, or my occasional girl friend, Charity, was with her most of the time. At first, when Theodora wasn't being used, she was locked in the secure room cut from the native rock at the back of the boat-shed. Later, when she became resigned to her fate, she became part of my little 'family'.

Theodora Throsbie had been a member of the Purity League and one of the flock of a fundamentalist church which preached no sex before marriage and nothing too exciting after. So you could say that being pack raped and then subjected to a period of sexual servitude to a lusty teen aged master and his libidinous girl friend was a liberating experience for which the little teacher should be forever grateful. In time she may possibly agree.

Miss Throsbie had been engaged to be married to Gregory Goodman, a missionary saving souls in the Congo. The day after I changed her life-motif from pedagoguery to pederasty, the world heard via CNN of yet another inter-tribal war in Africa, during which the Bongolo Mission, where Gregory labored, was reduced to ashes. The men had been made to watch as the womenfolk were raped before all were impaled on sharpened stakes for the amusement of the raiders. We had saved Theodora from a nasty (if not pointless) death. Judging by the fuss she made when Charity first used a strap-on to sodomize her, Ms Throsbie would have been a very noisy martyr.

Charity had once been in the same predicament as her catamite. She too had been chained naked to my bed waiting for me to decide how long and with what instrument she was to be beaten before being fucked. Despite her rough handling, or perhaps because of it, Charity had developed a taste for submissive sex. She would squirm and wriggle her tight little tail whenever I picked up a crop or a paddle. Her eyes would go big and misty and her juices would start to flow. When her older sister, Hope, had joined us, Charity derived almost as much pleasure watching me mount her sibling as when she was the sole recipient of my teenage lust. She eventually joined in and became an enthusiastic collaborator in whatever sexual activity was afoot.

Charity showed that she was eager to join me in educating Theodora in the ways of rough sex on the very first night we three spent together. First she bathed our captive, dried her with a big soft bath towel, and rubbed soothing oil into her sore backside and swollen pudenda. I saw Theodora tremble as Charity's nimble fingers caressed and probed her erogenous zones. I guess our victim had never had another woman touch her like that before. When the little teacher was clean and relatively comfortable, Charity allowed her to put on black, lace-topped stockings and red high-heeled shoes before she marched her into the bedroom and sat my latest fuck toy on the big solid bed. Charity was wearing a few strips of black leather and stainless steel rings under her wrap. Theodora regarded her with alarm.

Charity popped velcro-fastened leather-cuffs on Ms Throsbie's wrists and attached a steel spreader to her ankles. Charity tied Theodora's wrists to the bed head using stout cord. The woman's protests began to become strident but she went quiet after Charity threatened to gag her. Charity next bound the spreader to the bed head close to the prisoner's wrists. In this position Ms Throsbie could be easily entered both vaginally and anally, a fact she quickly realized as I stripped off and knelt before her, laying my engorged prick between her widespread thighs.

She had experienced my larger than average erection before but began to blubber and plead for me not to rape her again. Her eyes grew even rounder and her protests louder as Charity took hold of my cock and began to rub its head up and down the length of the proffered cunt, gently parting the outer lips of Theodora's vagina and allowing lubricating juices to make her slick.

"Oh! God!" she wailed. "Please stop!!" But all the time she was getting wetter and more aroused than a member of the Purity League should get under any circumstances, let alone when tied to a bed and being raped! Poor Theodora! She so wanted to be a saint but her body insisted she was a sinner.

I reached for her left breast and took the nipple between forefinger and thumb of my right hand. I rolled it gently and felt my victim respond. Theodora whimpered and, without realizing what she was doing, began to push against the steady but gentle pressure of my cock, which was being rubbed up and down her cunt by Charity.

"I think she wants you inside," said Charity after a while, as she sensed the quickening tempo of Theodora's breath and noticed the involuntary heave of her hips.

"No! No!" protested the little teacher. "Please... don't... Oh!!"

Charity had to squeeze it into Theodora's narrow cleft.

Theodora began to sob in time to my steady pumping. I gradually increased both tempo and depth of penetration. Her protest became one continuous "Nah... nah... nah!"

She squealed loudly as Charity took hold of her right breast and, rather roughly I thought, tugged and pulled the nipple erect. Shortly after that Theodora's protests became animal grunts of pleasure and soon she was rising, as best she could, to meet my deepening thrusts.

"Oh God! Don't! Stop!" became "Oh, God! Don't stop!" and she experience the first of the night's noisy orgasms.

I continued to pound her upturned pudenda. I felt Charity's hand let go of the base of my cock and saw her duck her head between Theodora's raised buttocks and my groin. I felt the tip of Charity's tongue explore the base of my plunging cock and her soft lips caress my bulging scrotum and my heavy balls, before I too came, flooding the helpless teacher with thick, warm, semen.

She wept with shame and embarrassment as she twitched and moaned with pleasure!

Then it was Charity's turn with the strap on.

****Four weeks after I acquired Theodora the "Organization" called on the services of Kim and Co for an unusual task. It was, we were told by the Accountant, who was our usual link with the criminal group, "a very sensitive matter." He was a pompous little man who usually wore grey and who seemed to enjoy his role as messenger of the gods.

The accountant explained that Mr Black, one of the triumvirate who ran the criminal syndicate had recently been deserted by his lover. Not only had Mr Black been thrown over but his former paramour planned to marry within the week. Mr Black was extremely upset, said the Accountant. He felt he had lost face and intended to wreak his vengeance on both the lovebirds.

He wanted Kim to arrange the kidnaping of the pair after the wedding ceremony but before their marriage had been consummated. Then, said the Accountant, licking his thin, dry, lips, they were to be brought to the "dungeon" (a quaint name for Kim's stainless steel and ceramic-tiled operating theater, part of the warehouse complex which housed Kim's little empire) where the former lover was to observe as the newly wed spouse was to be grossly humiliated, both physically and sexually! "To be specific," the accountant said, "Mr Black expects his former lover to witness the 'rape and disfigurement of the vile seducer'. His words exactly."

"Mr Black has every confidence that you will perform this task to his satisfaction," said the Accountant before going. "Please, let me emphasize, his former lover is not to be hurt, just made to watch the utter degradation of the marriage partner. Mr Black would like an edited video tape or DVD of the, er, 'honeymoon from hell' as he likes to call it. Something he can play to his sweetheart after their enforced, if necessary, reconciliation."

Kim protested that it seemed unfair that the presumably innocent partner was to be made to suffer physically while Mr Black's former paramour would merely witness the punishment. She was about to suggest that the bride should also suffer a little but she was cut short by the Accountant.

"That is what Mr Black requires," he sniffed. "Please see to it."

When the Accountant had gone I told Kim that I was prepared to organize the abduction of the happy couple but felt I lacked the necessary aptitude for what was wanted by the vengeful Mr Black. Homosexual rape and torture was not something I felt competent to deal with. Of course, I assured Kim, if Black had wanted his girlfriend fucked until she dropped I would have been happy to oblige but, as I understood what the Accountant was saying, she was only to watch while the poor sod who had married her was to be, literally, screwed. Kim said she understood my point of view but the Turk called me a "wuss" and some other names and announced he would be delighted to star in Black's video as the Dungeon Master. He said he would get a kick out of giving the new husband all sorts of what for. I was glad that he wanted the role.

The abduction, which I organized, was a piece of cake. The marriage was conducted in the Botanic Gardens by a Wedding Celebrant. The reception was held in a nearby hotel which catered for that sort of thing. No family was present and only a few friends. By paying twice what was required in compensation I persuaded the limo driver, hired to take the newlyweds to the airport, that his job had been canceled. Then, dressed as a chauffeur and driving one of Kim's suitable vehicles, (with white ribbons attached from the upper corners of the windscreen to the winged victory atop the radiator) I waited until they climbed aboard. The mini-bar was stocked with champagne, beer and Vichy water, all liberally spiked with the date-rape drug. Both bride and groom were asleep before I had driven half way to Kim's warehouse complex.

The bride (Mrs Smith, nee Samantha Goodbodie) was not the stereotype "gangster's moll" I half expected. She looked no more than twenty years old. Her hair was black and she was short and a tad plump. He, Bruce Smith, looked a bit like a young Mick Jagger - raddled - but blonde, stocky and at least ten years older than his bride. They were still unconscious, his long blonde locks tastefully arranged on her bosom, when I handed them over to Kim and the Turk.

While the couple were still dopey I leant a hand in preparing them for their ordeal in Kim's "dungeon". I helped Turk undress Bruce and shackle him to Kim's stainless steel "hitching rail". This is a sturdy frame, equipped with tie points and spring clips. It is set over a sunken drain in one corner of the tiled torture chamber. There was no chance the poor sod could get away once we had fastened him to the rail. But Turk, "in the interests of security" he said, fastened a thin cord around the bridegroom's scrotum, led it through a block in the center of the drain and made the end fast to a collar strapped tight around the man's neck. I could see that when the Turk began his treatment of the captive the wretch would be unable to lift his head without risking castration.