Priapus
- 1 year ago
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After he is clean, she replaces his cock into the loincloth and stands up.
She now, removes her garter belt and sandals, and rolls two elastic garters to hold up her stockings. She then picks up the whip, kisses it and hands it to Sampson. She walks towards the statue. She faces the Roman God of Lust, and raises her hands to him. She cannot reach his hands, but her wrists do reach the cuffs. Her perfect back is towards the audience. The brunette girl approaches her and fastens her wrists with the cuffs. She then caresses her perfect ass, and kisses it. She ties her ankles together with leather cuffs, and then the cuffs to the floor of the stage with a length of chain.
She stands proudly, her arms outstretched, her back to the audience.
In the screen now we see her from the front. The hidden camera zooms in on her face and torso. We see her wide open green eyes, her serene, yet frightened face, her perfect breasts, moving up and down with her breathing.
Sampson bows to the audience, approaches the statue and pulls on a hidden lever. The chains retract into the God's hands and she is now suspended from her stretched hands. He keeps cranking on the lever, and her body grows tighter. Her legs, held together by the ankle shackles, and attached to the floor of the stage by a short chain, and her arms pulled up and out by her wrists. We can see her ribs, and note the tempo of her breathing, faster now. Her face is still serene though.
The brunette moves to a side and sits down on the stage. Sampson picks up the whip and gets ready to strike. He stands on the left side of the blonde stretched out girl. For the first time, he speaks. His voice is gravelly.
"Are you ready Miss?"
Her eyes wide open; she takes a deep breath and replies:
"Do it Sampson, rip me apart"
The first lash falls across her shoulders. Three wheals rise on her formerly perfect back, and she screams. The first of many screams to come. Sampson takes his time. She has planned this to the last detail. The lashes must be spaced out, methodical. She must be given time to suffer each and every one of them. The second falls, a little bit lower. The must not overlap. As much as possible each lash should fall on virgin skin. The third falls, and the fourth. On the screen her face is wild, her mouth wide open, and, as the next lash falls, the scream. There is no member in the audience that is not hard. The men would wish Sampson to hurry, but he doesn't, he has his orders.
The lashes are now falling on her waist; her back is speckled with blood, she screams and screams, and the lash falls and falls. The TV zooms out to let us see the bounce of her breasts, and the spasms of her abdomen.
Her head, the only part of her that is not tied down thrashes from side to side. She screams, "No! Please!" but it is all for naught. Sampson has his orders. She was quite explicit in them and he has no latitude. He continues to flay her back and waist, and then moves on to her beautiful ass. The lash falls on the unblemished skin of her ass, and paints a web of red stripes on its gorgeous globes. She no longer struggles, her head hangs down and she no longer moves. Sampson stops at thirty five, while the brunette checks on her. She's passed out and needs to be revived with smelling salts. She also gives her some water.
"Are you ready to continue Miss" Sampson asks again.
The TV again zooms on her face. Covered with sweat, her tortured features amplified so that every detail, every drop of sweat, every rictus of pain is patent for all to see, her lips open and she speaks:
"Yes Sampson, go on"
Then the screaming resumes; mercifully, only for fifteen more lashes.
The brunette and Sampson untie her and give her water. She cannot stand and kneels on the stage. All the men in the audience, including Him line up, but wait for her to recover. All in all she must service seven men, and Sampson.
She takes Sampson first. She sucks on his engorged member, up and down, and it does not take her long to bring him off again. This time she swallows all of his spunk. The next man approaches her. She looks at Him with a question on her tear streaked face, and He answers:
"I want to go last dear"
She gets to work on the next man, and the next, and the next. Fortunately for her, they are all so excited that they last only a few seconds before coming down her throat.
The brunette approaches Sampson. He lies down on the stage, and she sucks him to erection again, then mounts him, and rides him to her own orgasm. After tonight her orgasms will not be her own, she will belong to Him, and her orgasms are to be determined by Him alone, but tonight, her body is hers, for the last time, but one.
All the other six men have been serviced, and he approaches her.
"I would like to deep throat you if you will" He asks.
"You don't have to ask" She answers "You know I'm yours"
"Not anymore dear" He responds "After you climb on the stage, your body is yours again, for the last time"
She knew that. Yet she says "I will always be yours"
She gets up off her knees and walks to the table. With His help she lies on the table, painfully, on her shredded back, and lets her head hang off the side. She gestures at Him and He deftly inserts His rock hard shaft into her mouth and down her throat. With passion, yet not ungently, He fucks her throat until with a growl He unloads His seed deep in her throat. When He comes out His cock is clean. The audience that watched this in the TV screen roars their approval. He helps her off the table; she can barely stand and brings her to the center of the stage, where Sampson and the brunette have finished their copulation. With a small bow He hands her hand to Sampson and steps off the stage.
The brunette gives her some more water, and gives her the whip. She then hands the whip to Sampson who takes it from her. They now guide her to the statue ... This time she stands facing the public. The big screen zooms in on her shredded back, where most of the bleeding has stopped.
The men gaze at her yet unmarked front. They take in the beauty of her suffering face. Why are women in pain so beautiful? They admire her breasts, and her pink nipples, intact for a few minutes more, the curve of her lower belly, and the triangle of her pubic hair, neatly trimmed, dark with her sweat. All of this beauty that will be destroyed in but moments for their pleasure.
Painfully she raises her arms to the cuffs. The brunette cuffs one arm and Sampson the other. They cuff her ankles again. Sampson activates the crank again, and once more she is painfully stretched like a Y.
As the brunette moves away and sits down, Sampson whip in hand stands to her right and asks again:
"Are you ready to start Miss"
She has regained her composure during this interlude. She answers:
"Leave my breasts for the last Sampson" then she adds "Go ahead, shred me apart"
The first lash falls in the center of her belly, right on the navel. This time, she can see them coming; the extra fraction of a second allows her to prepare herself, and she contains her screams, for a while.
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The new voice was a great and chronic complainer. Every time we conversed, he would have something that he felt bad about, or that seemed extremely unfair to him. The single biggest complaint always centered around how unfair it was that he'd been singled out to take the blame for the fighting that had broken out in the chambers of decision back when the guardians were debating my fate. To his way of thinking, he had been only the messenger of my bad news. It rankled like an open wound with...
It had been a long day, and I just got off of the phone with Greyson. He was coming over after he got off of work so that we could talk the details out of what exactly he wanted from me as he wanted to make me his submissive. I closed my eyes as the image of the night before flashed in my mind. I could smell the scent of his cologne again, I could feel his touch on my body again, I remembered everything so vividly that it sent chills down my spine. Suddenly I heard a knock followed by the door...
BDSMMrs. Braithwaite, Part III. by Geneva After meeting an old friend and surviving an attack, a witch reevaluates her way of life and her place in her coven. This is a following story to "Mrs. Braithwaite, part II". Although it will stand on its own, it might be advisable to read "Mrs. Braithwaite, part II" for background. While this story has a transgender component, it is only one of the themes. Brian Errol drove carefully away from the scene, keeping below the speed...
- JALEN /-It’s the rattling of chains that wakes me, knocks me back down the hill like Sisyphus’ fucking bullshit rock. Yea. I know Sisyphus. Paint him black and you get the inner city version where the damn rock is America’s racial aggression that never quite dies. Double down by making that sad fuck an addict and shit, there I am, up the hill, down the hill.I groan, head pounding, and pull my face from the salty sweet embrace of a still moist cunt.Nose twitches.I fight back a sneeze. Realize...
HardcoreOn a cross country trip we stopped for an overnight stay at a friend's house. The couple we visited were very nice and gracious. They had a young college age daughter. The daughter Kelli was in her early 20's and apparently gay. In a matter of fact tone they talked about their daughter's girlfriend and how much they liked her and were pleased that they had found each other. At first, I was shocked as my background is much more conservative. But, after the initial shock, I forgot about...
Devina's in trouble.I woke up with a start and leaped out of bed."Oh god I thought, my Wife is due back tomorrow, and I better clear upthis mess before I go to work today."The mess was actually quite a lot of womens clothes spread across thebedroom floor. You see I am a cross dresser, in private I loved to dressin Womens clothes, slutty tarty clothes, I loved to be dressed as aslutty whore. But my biggest fetish was to wear Macs and raincoats, allsorts, any kind, but especially PVC Macs.Before...
“Okay counsel, your witness” The judge said as he motioned to the prosecuting attorney.The prosecutor stood, straightened his suit jacket and approached me as I continued to sit on the witness stand. “Mrs. DeFrancisco, how long did you know the victim, Miss Simmons?”“Since we, I mean my husband and I moved to Arlington,” I answered.“And how long was that?”“Well we moved here in May of 2001 and I met Debbie about a week after we moved in,” I answered. That was how my cross examination began. It...