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Introduction:

My Little Girl’s eyes were now wide, her mouth open as she drew breath and screamed again, agony etched into her pretty features. I could see the tendons in her arms and legs and marvelled at how tight they already were, the muscles drawn rigid. Her spine popped as it flexed out.

PART 1 – The Guy

The girl begged so well. Her eyes stared back at me, and as she said “Please,” it was unclear whether she was pleading for the horror to stop or whether she was desperate for more.

I shifted uncomfortably as a burgeoning erection began to push at my jeans. The girl, young and nubile, was not my slut and she would never be able to replace her, even in my mind’s eye, but she suffered so well.

I watched as the sackcloth bags filled with bricks and tied around her ankles pulled her stretched body towards the ground. This evil pull of gravity, filled will malintent, opened her labia, exposed the hidden soft folds to the sharp edge of the splintering wood and she cried out. The delightful yell added yet more length and girth to my hardening cock, as my gaze focused now on her overextended arms, the chains around her wrists and the constant flexing of her fingers in an attempt to distract her tortured mind from the extremities of the pain.

She wasn’t wet, her thighs were not glistening, she wasn’t turned on by the pain like my Little Girl would have been. But she was suffering and as the nail was hit hard, the small spike driven home, piercing through her manually, unwittingly engorged clitoris, securing it to the wood between her thighs, she passed out.

I was left breathless.

“I’m heading out dear.” My wife’s loving, caring voice broke through the sexual tension that had infused my solo erotic reverie.

“O … o … oh, okay see y … you later.” I closed down the screen on the Apple Macbook, and my voice was croaky and not certain of itself as I shouted my response down the stairs.

I heard the door lock as my wife left for her yoga class, and once more I was blissfully alone, left to reflect upon the times I had spent with my Little Girl, the real love of my life. I missed her so damn much. She clouded my thoughts. She woke up with me first thing in the morning and she went to bed with me at night.

I ate with her at the dining table and, somewhat worryingly, she accompanied me into my clinics and the surgical theatres.

Closing the curtains across the large bedroom window, I stripped off my clothes. As I took out my phone and swiped the screen until the picture of Red, tied to my Little Girl’s bed, firm, peachy ass high in the air, her body covered in red welted scratches,

her thighs glistening, the thorny, long-stemmed roses strewn across her glorious body, my balls tightened and my hard-on was complete!

******

It had been a few weeks since those two glorious back-to-back weekends with the slut and Red. Subsequent weeks of frustration and desperate wanking and becoming more and more obsessed with what I did to them … and what I would do to them in the future.

Where was there to go next? They had ‘died’ for fuck’s sake, both of them, the last time out … what more was there to achieve except to make their death permanent. In one sense that was the ultimate goal. It wouldn’t be murder because they would want it, it would actually be a glorified way of assisting their own suicide, or so I was convincing myself.

I recalled the dungeon porn scene I had watched earlier and my Little Girl’s face took the place of the model in the scene. Agony in her eyes, bulbous red ball gag stretching her mouth wide, gloopy saliva dripping from her chin to the flat surface on which she was hog-tied.

As those thoughts floated around my head, my mind’s eye bringing the scene, and my slut, to life … infiltrating my erogenous zones and fuelling my lust, I closed my eyes, lay back in my chair and groaned.

“Are you okay love?” My wife looked up from her book, well her kindle reader actually, and peered over her glasses at me.

Her voice interrupting my thoughts was a surprise, though why it should have been I didn’t know given that we were sitting together in our front room.

“Fine honey, thanks, just a little stiff. Long surgery today.”

That was no lie. It had been a long surgery. Reconstructive work, supporting an ENT surgeon as he rebuilt a shattered cheek bone using vascular tissue and muscle from the girl’s slender, smooth thigh, the extraction of which was my job.

She had fallen from a wall, though what the fuck she was doing on the high brick structure in the first place I had no idea … but ours was not to question why! Her face had hit the ground first and now she needed urgent surgery.

She was eighteen, the girl. Pretty, with a firm body, in fact she was a real treat to the eye, all except her shattered face of course. She was just a little younger than my slut, and as she lay naked on the operating table, anaesthetised into her own welcome oblivion, I slipped my scalpel into the soft flesh of her thigh. Holding my breath as I gently pressed with skilled, knowing fingers, I watched the skin split and open up for me. I observed the blood oozing out in fast flowing rivulets down her thigh as I stepped back to allow the nearby arteries to be clamped.

I imagined the soft flesh belonging to the breasts of my Little Girl. Using a scalpel to slice into the firm mound, but of course she wouldn’t be safe within the unconscious confines of an anaesthetic … she would be wide awake so that she could ‘enjoy’ every moment.

And now, aching from the long-standing nature of the operation, I sat at home, in my country-side, privileged domesticity and groaned at thoughts of my Little Girl and her stunning friend, Red.

What next? The slut had been busy recently with her essays and whatever else it was, other than drinking and fucking … oh and getting stoned, that students did.

Had she seen Red? I knew that her flame haired friend was at another Uni in another town and so they couldn’t live together. Had my slut and her BF become friends with benefits? I felt more than a little jealous. She had kept in touch with me. The odd text, and a picture or two … but when I had asked about meeting again, she had been a little evasive. Essays, exams, library sessions, a home visit back to her Ma and Pa, as she called them … she was ‘not sure when’.

All her reasons were potentially genuine, but all also possibly playing for time. Had they had enough? Had they both suddenly come to their senses and realised that if we continued our trysts then they would both most likely end up permanently dead? Maybe through finding each other my slut and her friend had found a reason to live?

“Another drop dear?” I opened my eyes to see my wife standing over me with the bottle of 2006 Nuit St George, bought from a trip to the Burgundy Wine Region a few years ago.

I nodded, “Yes hon, please that would be lovely.”

It was as she poured that I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket.

Part 2- The Girl

Abi went home to N-town after that night together.

But we knew half-term, or as they call it 'reading week' was coming up (along with more lecturer strikes...) and we had sort of made an agreement.

And so there I was at the station. Slummy Victoria. And I saw her coming up from the underground and ran to her and let her fling me in the air as we kissed and let her spin me round and, to be honest, so many girls are with girls now in London no one even blinks an eye. Well, maybe some old duffers off to a matinee or up to see an escort...

Trundle train down to the coast. To my little town. Big town really. Pretty lovely B-town by the sea. So excited to see her, to be with her. A week is sooo long! Fuck I love this girl and she loves me. The BF is history. Saw him in town and had a coffee and we decided that it was really over and I kissed him and gave his hand a sad farewell stroke. And went out into the drizzle.

Seagulls. Love them and hate them. Nah, love them.

Down to the front. Wind in our faces. She strokes my hair. Freshly dyed my favourite brilliant electric blue. Leans back on the rail, her legs apart. I lean in between. Bodies together. Kiss her sooo much. Fucking love her.

I'd told Ma that Abi was coming.

'Sharing?' she'd asked, a knowing look in her eyes.

'Mm.'

'I always knew' she said.

I smiled.

Pa hugged me.

'We love you, you know..' he said. Not a question. Obviously. I love them too. Which I know will be difficult in the future. But now I am so happy.

Dinner. All of us. Me, Abi, Sis, Ma and Pa. (big bro out). In the dining room. Burnt red walls. Polished table. Wine. Chatter. Cardinal Newman looking down from his frame. Me biting my lip. Tell us everything they say. And then they tell everything. All about me. Kiddy stories. Abi laughs.

My hands are hurting. My palms are burning. Sis sees me writhing my fingers. Gently pulls my hand towards her. She looks at the mark, burnt red. She can guess. From all those times in her room or mine with a hair brush or a wooden spoon or whatever. Girly games with bits of rope. She can guess.

In my room with Abi. Naked. Our marked bodies on each other. Marked by the thorns.

Sis taps at the door. Comes in. We sit up.

'Tell me about it' she says.

Quietly, slowly, not exactly fully, we do.

She's silent.

'I'm going to Oxford' she says.

I kiss her.

At the Marlborough. Crazy make up. Bright eyes. Wild. Fuck I love her. So fucking beautiful.

In bed with her. Text him. Just 'hi'. Think of sending a photo, but don't.

Then do.

Us two in the Marl.

Us two in bed.

'Shall we do something again?'

Wonder where he is when his phone pings. With his wife?

Wonder what he'll say....

Part 3- The Guy

Naked I stood before the whore. The girth and lengthening burden between my legs felt heavy, the swollen head pushing forward, rolling up the soft folds of the foreskin in its wake. Wide eyes watched it grow as the naked student-slut looked first into my face but then further down my body.

“On your knees,” I growled. Dropping slowly into a crouch and then to her knees, her eyes never leaving mine, she obeyed. I knew that she would. Unhurriedly her nubile, young, dark-skinned body slipped to the ground, her eyes becoming deliberately averted, gazing at the floor, knowing now not to meet mine.

I needed this release. I wanted my Little Girl. I wanted to feel the tight pussy enveloping my erection, her soft, young lips on mine, our tongues dancing in mutual ecstasy. But she was not here, and so I had to make do with a whore.

“Good girl,” I smirked, my words filled with platitudinal overtones. She didn’t speak but I saw her swallow, the constriction of her throat betraying the nerves that right now had no doubt infused her body.

“Open,” my command was a simple, single word. But as I approached, the undergraduate let her full lips part and then gasped as I gripped her lustrous, long, unfettered black hair in my fist and held her tightly.

It was not a blow job I wanted, it was a face-fuck. I slid my erection into her mouth, pushing firmly forward, navigating her oral passage until I reached her throat, whereupon I continued to thrust, impaling her, making her gag.

I smiled. Then I fucked her … hard … and fast … and deep.

By the time I released my grip, throwing her to the ground before me she was gasping for air and dripping with a thick, potent mix of my pre cum and her saliva. I was as hard as a rock. My urethral slit was dripping …

I needed more.

From each of the bedposts at the bedhead of this little student bedsit hung a pair of industrial strength handcuffs. None of the pink fluffy comfort that sometime adorns such tools, these were steel and hardcore, tools of her trade!

The whore flinched as I secured each one in turn around her wrists, leaving her arms stretched out wide, her gaze staring towards the bedroom wall before us, her peachy, dusky ass enthralling me, now fully exposed for my viewing pleasure.

I gripped her hips and pulled her towards me. She whimpered as the weight of her body now rested in part, on her knees, but in more painful part on her wrists, supported only by the harsh, steel cuffs that were now biting into her skin.

I picked up the crop. Her crop, the one she already had, and I whipped it quickly just inches from her ass, making her squirm from the sound as the rod sliced through the thin-air. Seconds later it was slicing through her flesh as I landed several blows in quick succession onto her firm ass cheeks.

She cried out as the red welts rose and glowed back at me.

“Does that hurt whore?” I asked.

“Y … Yes, Sir,” she replied in the manner prescribed.

If I used no names with my Little Girl, this student-whore who advertised her services from her pokey university bedsit in the student-land district to the North-West of Leeds, wouldn’t get my name either, not even a false one.

I had paid cash for her and so she did not require a name. Two hundred pounds for two hours of ‘bondage style fun’, was how she had advertised on the ‘Leeds Escorts’ web page.

I wasn’t sure how much ‘fun’ she was finding this right now. That thought rifled excitingly through my body and morphed into a lust-fuelled drip from my cock-head.

“Do you want more?” I asked, though the question was rhetorical because she was getting it anyway.

“Y … yes please, Sir,” she responded in a less than convincing manner.

I laughed and struck her again, even harder this time. Her whole body motioned forward as she crashed into the edge of the bed, jerking her arms and dragging at her cuffed wrists.

“Fuck!” she whispered. I waited for her to resume her position and then I hit her again … and again … and again.

Then I fucked her.

By the time I was ready to leave she was still laying, face down, on the bed. Nude and exhausted. Battered and beaten.

“There’s an extra fifty pounds for you here.” It was all I said as I left. She did not speak.

******

“You’ve lost weight,” my wife smiled at me as her delicate fingers circled around my upper arm to squeeze at my biceps. I had, she was right. Since I last saw my Little Girl a few weeks ago I had taken to the gym again, resurrecting my membership and so now, at least three times a week, I was working out, climbing infinity stairs, overworking my creaking knees with knee-lifts and treading-the-mill for kilometre upon kilometre. The whole routine was followed up with a swim and then some R&R in the hot tub and the sauna. I was feeling good … I was in love with a young student girl, I needed to feel, and look, way more than ‘good’!

“It’s a long time since I’ve seen you in this shape dear,” my wife was cozying up to me, she thought I was doing all this for her. I wasn’t.

But that wasn’t a fact I needed to share with my wife. Let her believe it was all for her. The slimmed down paunch, the reclaimed definition across my chest and my abs, even the trimming of my pubic hair, something I had never, ever done before.

I smiled and kissed her. When I say that she was a ‘fifty-something’ that was unfair really, because my wife had turned fifty only just before Christmas, and she was in good shape. Careful eating, twice-weekly yoga and an active lifestyle kept her very trim. She was fuckable still for sure, and I must not forget that. If I wanted to keep my trysts with the slut and her friend Red a secret then I must never forget to give my wife the attention she deserves.

With a moment to myself I swiped the phone to open the message from my Little Girl …

“Hi, shall we do something again?”

The pictures she sent were exquisite. Two were attached, both of her and Red. One showing the two of them in bed together, clearly naked, Red exposing a nice, hardened nipple, and another of them in the pub. Beautiful. That told me they were together now as an ‘item’. I presumed therefore that when my Little Girl said “… shall WE do something …”, Red was included in the ‘we’.

That was fine. That was good. I liked having them both. Red was stunning, statuesque almost, but the slut was the one I loved.

I read my reply. I had replied immediately with a very definitely, positive … “Yes. Can you make this weekend? Saturday?”

It was Tuesday the 18th February and it seemed they could make this coming weekend. Could I? You bet I could, whatever it took. I had proposed that date, this coming weekend because I couldn’t wait any longer for my piece of their ass, but I hadn’t thought it through, and so now I needed a plan. After developing a fixation on dungeon related porn over the past couple of weeks, a dungeon it had to be. Inquisition style. No mercy.

But where?

I knew just the place, if I could make it happen.

I opened the contact for George Meadows. George was on the security team at Leeds Town Hall. We did not live in Leeds but it was only a stone’s throw away from our countryside residence on the Pennine Way looking down over the Calder Valley.

“Hi George, I’m after a favour …”

I had operated on George’s daughter a few years ago, nothing life or death, but a substantial enough procedure and he had been eternally grateful. Like all surgeons I was consciously aware of de-coupling from my patients and their family post-procedure, as soon as the time was right. It was easy for them to become attached to their surgeon, given the service we provide, and over the medium to long term that wasn’t a healthy situation to be in.

But George had been useful, sorting out preferential parking at Town Hall events for me, and even getting me an upgraded ticket for a major concert, when they were like gold dust.

I had asked him for access to the subterranean cells under the Town Hall. They were the old jail cells, built in 1858 with the new Town Hall when Bridewell Police Station was based there … unused since 1902, but still in-tact. Cold, barren, stark … you could tour around them during certain days, and sometimes ambient events would be held in them, at Halloween for example.

I flipped through the pictures open in front of me on my MacBook screen and imagined my Little Girl naked and bound inside them.

But I wanted the cells to myself for the night. Could George arrange it, could he make it happen? When I called him I needed to skirt the truth, but not lie entirely. I had a ‘friend’, if he knew what I meant. A special, young girl-friend, and she was a bit of a thrill seeker. I needed to keep up with her, prove myself … but she was so worth it George, you should see her. Yes, it was deceitful, but with my high-pressure life, surely George you don’t begrudge me this, do you?

He didn’t. He understood, so he said, and his tone assumed the officious, confidential levels that were regularly assumed when someone was ‘helping you out’.

He would meet me and get me a key. I needed to be very discreet – I assured him that would be absolutely no problem.

Could he let me have the ‘interrogation cell’, the one with …

“… with the ‘devices’ still inside?” he had finished my sentence for me.

“Yes, that’s the one George.”

It wasn’t a problem. George called me a lucky bastard.

He had no idea.

Part 4 – The Girl

It's a cold, blowy day. Slumming in bed with Abi. Music from Sis's room. Billie Eilish. Nice.

Tangled in the twised duvet. Touching her. Playing with her hair.

Kiss her ear. So sweet she is.

Kiss her neck.

Kiss her nose.

Kiss her eyes.

Kiss her belly and her cunt. Linger. Round. Sweet. Softly.

Bacon and eggs and toast and let's go out!

Shopping in the Laines. Old clothes and LPs. Coffee and a cake. Joking and laughing and everyone is just like us here.

But they aren't.

At all

Because we are two mad crazy girls.

Bookshops and rain and wild seas.

Fucking love her. Being with her. Watching her hair blow over her face. Salt.

Wet skirts and faces and fingers touching.

What shall we do? I ask.

We'll go, won't we? she says

We'll go. I say.

Hoping for something. I don't know what.

Whatever he wants. She says. When we go, it's up to him. She says.

Yeah. I say. Up to him.

I don't really mind what he does. I say.

As long as... you know... it's us two. I want him to hurt us. I love you but I love seeing you hurt and you seeing me hurt.

I mean. When I cry. I hate it. But I want it so much.

Yeah. Me too. She says.

I never thought about it. Not before. Couldn't have imagined it. Not before.

But now?

Yeah. Now. It's all I want. I mean. Whatever. Fucked up world. Careers. Whatever. Nah. I want this. You and this. You and hurting.

We're mad aren't we?

We're fucking crazy. She says.

Bath. Soap. Her and me. Her back wet against my tits. Hate the fucking taps.

Back at the Marl. Love it here. Queer heaven. I knew I loved it even before...

Hide in a corner with her.

What do you fancy?

Well... She says. I sort of fancy bad things. Like... well... like a torture chamber. You know. Like in the inquisition. Not like in Iraq or some shit hole. Somewhere where they treat you properly as they torture you. Like a witch or someone. You know. Strappado. Rack. Hot things. Spikes. Ropes. Whips. Dark places and flaming torches and flickering shadows.

'Poetic' I say.

Yeah. She says. Poetic. Pain poetry. We should write a book.

And you? She says.

Hmmm. I guess the same. I say. Or an old bedstead and electricity on my tits and cunt.

And him? She says.

Don't care. I say. He can fuck me if he wants. I think he thinks I love him. Fucker. I mean, he's ok. He's enjoying it. And I don't mind him fucking me. Anyway he wants. I like being fucked. I love being with you and... you know... but I like being fucked. Hard. He's good at fucking. Not a kind fucker. A bastard fucker. But that's good. I think. But I don't really think anything of him apart from that. Just lucky to have found someone. I guess he's crazy too. I wonder what he spends his days doing?

Porn. She says. All day. Whenever he can. Or paying sluts for sex. Or ogling students. Dreaming. I guess we are perfect for him. Toys he can play with. No strings attached.

Unless he's tying us up. I say.

Ha.

I think he's married. She says. You can tell somehow. I think he loves his wife but he needs us. More. He needs to do these things. Like we need him to do them. I think it will get heavier and heavier coz he just can't stop and in the end...

He'll kill us. I say.

She's quiet... 'Yeah' she says. 'In the end... he'll kill us. And that's what has to happen I guess. Like Checkov with his gun. He'll kill us. He can't stop. We can't stop. So what else can happen. He'll kill us.

So do you mind? I ask her.

Not really. She says. Not really.

Let's get another drink. She says.

Part 5 – The Guy

“… The occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way …” I felt compelled to look up the actual definition of serendipity after what had just happened.

My Little Girl had accepted the coming weekend as the time we would next get together. I needed a plan that kept my wife’s suspicions at bay.

Through another unbelievable turn of serendipity, I now had one!

******

“Darling,” my wife had sounded tentative when she spoke, the tone of her voice was the one she used when she wanted something.

“Yes hon,” I replied, only half listening.

“You know my sister’s new Flower Shop, the one that I …”

“Yes dear,” I was still not really listening.

“Well this weekend she has the final class and exam for her Extended Diploma in Floristry, and she needs someone to open the shop on Saturday for her …”

Now I was listening …

“And so …”

“And so, you need to leave me again on Saturday, and because she lives so far away you won’t be back until Sunday?”

“Leave on Friday actually darling, the shop opens at 8am … and most probably return on Monday if that’s alright? Oh my darling, is that okay?” She looked genuinely sorry as she moved to me and wound her arms around my neck.

I was beside myself with delight, and trying desperately not to show it.

“I guess I can manage without you … again,” I grinned as our lips met with a light touch.

She pulled away smiling, “Thank you darling, let me go call her. I really don’t know what I have done to deserve you!”

It was all I could do to stop myself from laughing out loud!

******

I had visions of a labyrinth of dark, wet, 'hostel' like cells and a heavy atmosphere held in chain adorned walls, I was not disappointed.

George had handed me the keys on Wednesday night, so that I could take a look round. Get my bearings. His spare set they were, and so I could hang onto them until ‘afterwards’.

The name Bridewell is the generic term for a Town Lock Up, historically a small prison used to house prisoners arrested in the town, and awaiting their appearance in court. The name comes originally from a prison for vagrants and petty offenders in London, which was near the church of St. Brides, and also near a well, hence the Bridewell. Most large cities in Victorian times had a centrally based Bridewell Prison and Leeds was no exception.

The old stone corridors were long and windy, catacomb-like, and surprisingly warm, a little like the basement storage at the hospital. Must be an underground thing. And this subterranean area that opened up once a flight of stone stairs had been descended from underneath the front entrance, was no different. Warm, scarily eerie and wonderfully soundproofed!

I could hear no sound from anywhere else. Not outside nor above … just silence, except for the natural sounds that emanated from this old circuitous series of corridors and rooms. Yet I would be able to enjoy every cry and groan, all of the yelling out loud from the slut and her friend, as well as their less voluminous pleas for mercy. Just walking around this place excited me.

Each cell contained an old wooden bench, and shackle rings for wrists and ankles fastened to the wood and to the wall. The rooms, were small and dark, with stone flagged floors, whitewashed walls, and no windows. The original thick wooden doors were in-tact with small food hatches cut into the wood that served the purpose of both serving the meagre food rations and ‘voyeuristically’ watching the prisoners.

Then there was the ‘interrogation room’.

Wow!

An old rack was the main device on display. This room had a small, modern rope-fence to keep the viewing public away from the pieces on display, but it was not secured and George had said to simply move it out of the way. I knew there would be no more tours between now and the weekend, there weren’t many this time of year anyway, and so I moved it off to one side now.

I fingered the old, rough wood of the rack. It felt so damn … evil. The long-slatted frame, its flat surface had rope ties at the top and steel manacles at the bottom to hold the victim’s ankles in place while the body was stretched to breaking point. A large cranking handle was placed at the head of the device, by the wrists, to pull the naked body taut, and then tauter still … I gripped the long handled and twisted. The wooden machine groaned superbly into life as the wheel turned and the ropes shifted. It worked! Fuck, yes …

When I saw the wooden rollers in the middle of the slatted frame my breath was taken away … they were adorned with wooden spikes. More blunt now than they once would have been, and no-where near as damage inflicting as the iron spikes that sat in the same place during medieval times. But bloody vicious and painful none-the-less, and they would mark an otherwise smooth, naked and exposed back for sure!

I couldn’t wait to get the slut tied up on this beauty!

I let my eyes scan around the rest of this larger cell. The whole warren of stone rooms and corridors had dull lighting installed, presumably to allow the visitors to see what they came to see, whilst not detracting from the atmosphere. And so, having switched it on I was delighted to see that the installed lighting meant that the electrics in here provided a small number of sockets into which things, like large vibrators, could be plugged. I smiled to myself with a very smug sense of satisfaction.

What else?

Oh damn! A wooden horse, and that edge was still sharp … and splintered. Fuck … and a chair. Large, old, wooden, studded all over with iron studs!

I had to lean against the wall and take stock of the thrills that were infusing my body right now. All of these devices, all straight out of my fantasies, and I would get to use them on my Little Girl, and her gorgeous friend Red.

Fuck, fuck, fuuuuccckkkkkk!

******

I sent George a text message of thanks.

“Enjoy Doc … ;)” was all he said, with a winking emoji. Even though as a Surgeon, I was a ‘Mr’, he always called me Doc.

My blood was pumping quickly and I was already struggling to control my excitement as I typed the text message.

“Saturday it is then Little One. All is in place. I have secured somewhere very special for us this time. I need you both to be in Leeds Centre by early afternoon. I will meet you at the station. Let me know the nearest train arrival time to 1pm for you. Book First Class travel on your credit card (you have got one, right?) You will need the comfort and rest. I will give you cash when I see you to pay for it. xx”

It was going to happen all over again. I looked up to the sky and once again thanked those damn lucky stars!

Then I re-read my message, let my finger hover over the screen momentarily, and then pressed SEND.

Part 6 – The Girl

So it's this weekend. In Leeds. Again. I really hate Leeds I've decided.

So far away from anywhere proper.

Wrong side of the hills. And even further from Sussex by the sea.

Too fucking far.

Shame he isn't somewhere up near... M... or in Shropshire or somewhere.

Not Shropshire. Beautiful but impossible to get to.

Fuck. Leeds it is.

And so here we are. Me and Abi. On the long journey north. I think we are both excited and both scared. Which is normal. For something so fucking crazy.

I mean, here we are. Two cute students who kiss each other and smile and attract glances which are somewhat envious in the Marl and here we are headed up to some shit town to meet this guy we don't know with the express intent and desire of being hurt and hurt badly. For a weekend. Some people go to Barcelona or Berlin, we go to some underground cell to be tortured. And we want to. Fuck us! We are mad.

Just like I think Sis thinks.

'Be careful' she said. She knows me too well.

'She's nice, your Sis' Abi says.

'Yeah. Smart and nice. Smarter than me and probably nicer than me too.'

'She's going to Oxford?'

'LMH. English. In October. She has to get her grades, but that's no big deal for her. Smartass she is. Smart. Pretty and smart. Lucky her.'

'You're pretty and smart' she says.

I hug her to me.

'You are too...'

I'm thinking she'd like to fuck my Sis. I know my Sis would like to fuck her. It's always been girls for her. No straying into penis land like me. I can list them... Emma, Maddy, Miri, Becca... always cute. Always her curled up in front of the telly with chocs and a girlfriend. Of course she'd fuck Abi. Poor fucking Oxford when she gets there I think...

Slugging through London.

Onto the train north. Dirty windows. As ever.

Sandwiches.

My nails prise the plastic away from the cardboard. Slowly peeling the cover back. Like skin.

'We are mad, aren;t we?'

'Crazy mad' she says.

'Pretty lovely sexy mad' I say.

'I want so much to be with you in the place we're going' she says.

'I want to be naked and tied and bleeding and hurting and hearing you scream and you hearing me scream.'

'I love you too' I say.

I want it too.

The train takes for ever.

Clanking.

Stopping.

Jolting.

Kids and mothers and dropped coke bottles.

And a book to read.

And not a page really read as I imagine my body naked and bloody. And the rain cleans little stripes as it flies over the filthy window.

And I think of the whip on my belly and my abdomen tensing and my skin going red as the whip leaves its little stripes and beads of blood.

And I think of my mouth becoming dry and my fingers clenching.

And my wrists hurting and my ankles hurting and my breasts feeling so wonderful and tender and sexy and...

I look at her lovely face.

And I want to see her cry.

And here we are. Middle of another dull Yorkshire Saturday...two girls with two little Fjallraven backpacks headed to the coffee place to wait for a guy whose name they don't know who is going to look after them for the weekend and make them both very happy.

We're fucking crazy.

Part 7 – The Guy

It was almost 1pm on Saturday the 22nd February 2020. Another date for my collection of significant dates, a collection that was building rapidly every-time I saw these two masochistic little girls.

I knew the train they were on, it arrived at 1:04pm directly from Kings Cross. I smiled at the thought of them in First Class, laughing and joking, winding other passengers up … maybe even kissing and cuddling … the thought of their lips touching made me stiffen.

It wouldn’t be long now.

There were plenty of students around today. Saturday was a travel day … home to see families or off to visit the boyfriend or girlfriend. I watched a fresh-faced girl wander into my line of sight. Tight jeans, tits to die for, plump lips, button nose … damn those jeans, so fucking tight. Then she crouched down to look inside her bag and I could see the waist band of a black lace thong exposed … fuck, she was very, very hot. Would she like to be beaten? I found myself wondering.

Then a loud pitched laugh, maybe tinged with nerves, took my attention.

It was them …

******

She had left on Friday, the wife. No lifts required, no trains to catch, she had taken her car – it was easier to drive. And so, I had the full day to myself once my 11am clinic was over. There was only one place to go.

Leeds City Centre was busy, it was Friday lunchtime after all, but no one had eyes for a lonesome guy making his way down to the left of the large flight of stone, front stairs at the City’s town Hall.

I opened the door to the cells. It creaked in the stereotypical way that it should, and the pleasant sensation of the warm air hit me. This was more than just underground air capture, it was probably being heated from the rooms above it. Whatever, it was nice and warm, which meant that I could keep the sluts naked for longer.

I put the bag down in the ‘interrogation cell’. The bag with all of my accessories, both medical and sexual, contained within in. Pulling open the zip I smiled at the heinous collection of accoutrements that I had in there. I could hardly wait to use them … all of them.

One phone call that evening confirmed that the wife had arrived safely and was looking forward to being in the shop along with all of the flowers.

“Stay as long as you wish,” I found myself saying with, hopefully, not too much relish – I had flowers of my own to prune!

“You WILL be okay dear, won’t you?” Her question was genuine but she knew what I would say.

“Of course, honey, now go and forget about me for a couple of days. I will call you on Sunday once your busy day is over and we can catch up.”

Call over and the path through this weekend’s session with my girls, was now clear.

That night brought little sleep and an almost constant erection. I was desperate to satiate it, but I was damned if I would waste my juices …

******

“Hey Mister, we’re here,” the sluts fresh faced, stating-the obvious, student-enthusiasm rose above the white-noise din of the station.

I smiled and nodded, and without a word I put my hand around the back of her head, pulled her to me and kissed her hard. She gasped and I loved it … I loved it more when she stabilised the surprise embrace and kissed me back. Breathless parting I smiled down at her, my Little Girl, and said, “I missed you so much.”

Red stood by watching and I turned and nodded at her, “Red.”

She smiled weakly back at me.

Her flame-haired friend was stunning but I wanted the slut to know that it was her that I loved.

We walked the short distance to the Town Hall. Saturday afternoon filled with shoppers and afternoon drinkers. We were heading straight for the cells.

“You look good, both of you …” I said as we walked. Both of them wore dark clothes and, with the weather being a little warmer than it could have been in February, their jackets were short.

“I like the bare stomach Red, especially this time of year,” I glanced down at her open front that revealed the cropped top and her heavily tattooed abdomen.

She giggled.

“Where the fuck are we?” The slut said when I took them down the stairs at the front of the Town Hall. I laughed at her foul mouth.

“Get in,” I ordered unceremoniously as the door creaked open.

They walked silently into the gloom, I followed and closed the door with a loud bang, turning the key to lock us inside. My slut jumped deliciously at the loud sound, and then laughed nervously.

I flicked on the lights which did nothing to lighten the atmosphere.

“Follow me.” I headed further into the labyrinth.

They did, without a word being spoken.

We walked along the corridor and then I turned left into a small cell.

Pushing the door closed once they were inside, I looked each girl up and down.

There was no time for small talk. They were here for a reason … I was here for a reason ... I WAS the reason!

“Strip,” I ordered. Then added, “No, not you Red, just this little cunt. Do it now slut.”

With wide eyes and a gulp, my Little Girl slipped off her jacket and toed off her shoes. It was with trembling hands that she punched loose the button on her jeans and wriggled provocatively out of the tight denim.

I nodded and she pulled the tee shirt over her head before reaching down to unclasp her bra.

My throat dried a little when her firm, red-tipped breasts came into clear view.

“Beautiful,” I uttered almost to myself.

“Take down her panties Red.” I smiled as with just a single glance at me, her friend crouched and slowly pulled the lace thong off, peeling the gusset succulently away from her already puffy labia.

“How does it feel to be the only naked one among us slut?” I asked my Little Girl teasingly.

“I huh … fine … I guess.”

She moved a little from foot to foot, her body language demonstrating the apprehension that was no doubt active inside her head, a smirk riding her mouth.

“You find it funny?” I said in a style similar to that of her school teacher.

“What?” She responded with more than a hint of incredulity.

“Get on your fucking knees cunt!” I yelled so loudly that Red jumped and my Little Girl’s eyes widened. But she obeyed and averted her eyes while I wrapped a heavy chain around her neck and padlocked it.

She did as I ordered without delay or dissent, and I crouched by her side in order to kiss her, which I did with a savage passion. She gripped me, and returned the kiss just as greedily. What I take from her, this slut, I take with need and lust and greed and desire. With love. A strange love, maybe, to the outside world, yet it is our world and in that world we can have what we want.

I released her from the embrace, and I glanced sideways where Red was leaning impassively against the cold, stone wall.

“Suck.” Was all I said as I unfastened the button on my green army-style jeans and held my erection out towards her face.

With a single look upwards into my face before averting her eyes again, my Little Girl leaned forward and took me hungrily into her mouth before I could even raise my hands to her head.

I rather wondered, for a very brief second, if I am fucking her mouth, or if her mouth is fucking my cock.

Then I stopped wondering, as my fingers slid into her hair and her mouth glided down onto my erection. I groaned, fuck that feels good. Then I was lost in the sensations as she kissed her way back along my shaft, holding me ever so gently with her teeth just below the swollen head, and slurping her tongue over the crown of my penis.

The initial overpowering wave of sensations passed, and I regained control. Gripping her head tightly, fingers woven into her hair, I moved back just slightly, keeping her mouth on my cock, making her dependant on me for control, speed, depth, release. She tried to lean further in, pulling against my grip, trying to take more of my cock into her mouth, into her throat.

I let her, guiding her head forward, slowly, as she stretched her neck and breathed in a relaxed manner. I could feel her teeth barely scraping my shaft, her tongue pressing against the ridge on the underside of my cock, her warm, moist mouth engulfing me.

The slight gripping pressure as I entered her throat was exquisite. She gagged, and I slid back out, pushing her fully off my glistening, saliva coated erection, giving her time to grunt her way through her desperate search for breath. But before she had time to recover, I pushed and thrust and once more the slut was straining to take me into her mouth, straining against my fingers in her hair, allowing her to engulf me once again.

Then a laugh emanated from my throat, evil sounding, and I cruelly pulled her away from my shaft. She whimpered, the slut, and looked up at me. I relaxed my grip in her hair.

“Okay,” I said, as if granting permission for her to resume, and she speedily returned to nibbling down my shaft, breathing me into her throat, licking my balls. I groaned again, my legs trembled a little, and my juices began to rise.

I arched my back in pleasure, “Aaaaah, fuck … yes …”

She nipped back up the side of my shaft again, until she was focused solely on the head of my cock … my hard, throbbing, exquisitely sensitive cock. Her mouth felt hot and wet, and the moisture, silky and I swear could sense every taste bud on her tongue right now.

“Not yet,” I said, when finally, I pulled her mouth away from my cock. She was panting heavily, dripping in saliva, and that turned me on even more.



Some part of me, the surgeon, proper, social, kind-to-children-and-animals part was appalled at what I was planning. But the other part of me, the part I am revelling in right now, was smiling a cruel, gleeful smile of its own.

There is some part of my Little Girl as well that is appalled, I know that. The part that hands in her essays on time, makes her parents proud, looks out for her sister, the “good girl”, rather than the blatantly sexual slut, who is on her knees before me, dripping in spit and juices …

My lover. My love. I embrace all of her, every facet, every part … I want all of her.

“Get up.”

She did, and I grabbed her wrists before twisting her around and pulling them cruelly behind her back cuffing them tightly together.

Then, without warning, I gripped her by the throat and slammed her hard against the stone wall.

“Here use this on her,” I handed Red the small egg vibe. Her eyes widen, my slut had seen this malicious device before, and she groaned as best she can within the confines of my grip.

But Red asked no questions. They are here for a reason, and the still fully dressed friend knows this is all part of that reason.

I let her buzz the vibrations all over the slut’s clit, and along her labia, inside and out, until my Little Girl was tensed and ready to cum, pleading from the guttural depths of her body for release. I tightened my grip on her neck even more and then just as she was about to climax … I knocked Red’s arm away.

The slut’s knees gave way causing me to hold her upright entirely via my grip around her neck.

“Ten seconds Red,” let her calm down. But ten seconds doesn’t offer much calming time, however it was all she got before I took the egg vibe and slid it deep back inside the slut’s cunt.

“Duct tape in my pocket, get it out and tape the vibe inside her body. Do it now Red.”

She did, and that infernal little device was trapped inside my Little Girl.

Then she came. And we let her. Red and I watched the slut fall heavily to the ground, landing painfully on her arms, still secured behind her back, and then I smiled as she writhed and squirmed in exquisite agony, her wetness contained inside her pussy behind the wall of duct tape covering her slit. I grinned across at Red who looked down upon her friend wearing what I thought was an expression of envy.

I laughed and dragged my Little Girl to her feet before throwing her face first against the cell wall. Without her arms to protect her she hit the stone with her breasts first and slumped groaning to the ground. The vibe still hummed away inside her body building steadily towards its next onslaught.

“She can’t reach the tape and the vibe will go for hours yet.”

I pulled Red to me and kissed her. In a feline-like manner her body moulded to mine and she kissed me back, already breathless from the scenes she had just witnessed.

“Let’s go eat somewhere nice Red, just you and me and leave this cunt to her orgasms …”

Red said nothing, but she offered no resistance when I moved her out of the cell and slammed the door shut. It bolted locked from the outside trapping my Little Girl inside its gloomy walls.

I turned and opened the small food hatch in the main door panels, and my Little Girl’s pathetic eyes were there staring out at us …

following our every move as Red and I walked away, switched off the lights and left her alone, cuffed in the old cells … the vibrator eating away at her very sanity.

“Watch out for the Rats slut …” were my final words as we closed the main door with a loud bang.

Part 8 – The Girl

Sometimes I could really love him. Not really. Yeah. He does this stuff so well.

FUUUUUCK!

I really could love him. Or someone like him. Who does this.

FUUUUUCK!

And so it starts again. Here. On the floor.

I've pushed myself back to the wall. My naked back against the wall. My arms cuffed behind me. My shoulders hurt...

FUUUUUCK!

Oh god! I love this fucking thing inside me. I fucking love it. I'm fucking throbbing with it.

NO! It's impossible! NOT MORE!

FUUUUUCK!

It won't stop.

It won't stop. I can't.... I love it hate it love it....FUUUUCKKK!

My belly. My mouth drooling. My cunt. My fucking cunt!

FUUUUCK!

He came to meet us. Just off the train. In the student-crowded station just two more student babes meeting their dad/uncle/whatever.

Kisses. More than you should with girls like us. Too young for that sort of kiss unless we're selling.

But no-one notices.

And so it starts.

Out round the corner and to the building, the ugly, ostentatious, imperial edifice of a building that is the town hall. I'd recognise its small man's penis columns and cock-envy tower anywhere. Ugly stupid big fucker of a building.

He takes us through a door that he has the key to. Down some steps. More like it. A sort of dungeon. Another door.

What can I see?

Amazing things!

Just for us!

Lucky girls that we are!

FUUUUUCK!!! It's fucking burning me up! FUUUCK! Fucking can't control myself! OH MY GOD! STOP!

DON'T STOP!!!!

Tells me to strip. I like this bit. It really is starting.

Down on my knees. His little girl doing what he says. What I like to do.

Suck him off. He pushes into me. Deep. Can't hardly breathe. Love this. This thing in my throat. Hate it filthy hate it girl. Not. Yes. Yes. Love it.

Not.

Fuck! Yeah.... Fuck... Gasping for air. Gagging. Gagging. Out. Gasp. Breathe. In. Again. FUCK!

FUUUUUUCKKK! This thing! My whole fucking body!

Up.

I get.

And

HE cuffs me. I'm his. Not mine. My body is his now. Til he's finished. Yeah. I want this. This is what I want so much.

She pushes it in. FUUUCK! YES!!!

She pushes it in. Tapes it in. FUUUCK!

I fucking want this!

FUCKK!

Slams me down. On my belly on my tits. Air knocked out. Still fucking buzzing in me. FUUUUCK!

FUUUUUUCCCCKKKKK! I fucking... a....

Gone.

They've gone.

Nothing.

Just me moaning.

FUUUUCKKKK! Not stopping.

GONE!

Her and him.

So fucking lov FUUUUUUCKKKK!!!!

FUUUUCCCCKKKK! My body!!!! FUCK. Legs bouncing. I can't fucking control... FUCCCCKKKK!

Me in the dark. FUUUUCKKK! And nothing but me and my FUUUUUCKKK

He'll be back.

With FUUUUUCKKK her. And then.... FUUUUUCKKK! I want to him.... me to him... Her.... TORTURE ME!

FUUUUCKKKK Him me her and now along nothing silence.... SCREAMMMM! FUUUUCKKK! Love. How much fucking MOREFUUUUUUCKKK!!!

Part 9 – The Guy

“I love my Little Girl, Red, you know that, right?” I looked up from my bowl of Penne Carbonara Pasta across the table at the beautiful flame-haired girl sitting opposite me.

She nodded, “She doesn’t love you though.”

I smiled wryly, and then she added, “But she loves being with you, loves what you do to her, loves that she found you …”

“So, she loves me then?” I queried.

Red chuckled, “If you say so.”

“Do you?” I said, as she took another mouthful of her Rustic Pizza, Farmhouse style served on a slated platter.

“What? Love you?” She laughed, “No, of course not, but I do love her, your Little friend. She is the perfect lover and partner for me …”

“I meant, do you love what I do to you?”

Red looked down at her plate.

“Do you?” I pushed. Seeing her so reticent to answer was turning me on.

“Tell me Red,” I whispered with an underpinning assertion to my tone.

“It scares me. You scare me.”

What a perfect answer.

“Really, and why is that?”

She hesitated, before saying, “Will we survive this weekend?”

“Do you want to?” I said taking more Pasta onto my fork. Her question was stiffening my groin.

She looked at me now. Eye to eye, and there were tears in hers.

She did not answer.

******

We had been gone almost two hours when Red and I walked back into the cells, and opened the door into the small stone room that we had left the slut in.

What I saw when the old wood creaked open sent my burgeoning erection into full blown overdrive.

My Little Girl was sprawled on the floor, on her side, hands still cuffed behind her back. Her thighs were wide apart and glistening, the duct tape was half on half off, and a pool of liquid had formed under her. The evil little vibe was still very clearly lodged inside her sweet body … I could hear it buzzing away, still pursuing its erotic devilment.

Slowly her closed eyes flickered open. “Pl … please, Mis … Mister, m … make it st … stop,” she pleaded in a broken, sensual whisper.

I moved to her and knelt by her body, Red followed me.

“Did you piss yourself?”

She nodded, and I laughed. Reaching between her legs I ripped the remaining tape away from her pussy and saw how red and puffy her labia already were.

I pressed the button on the remote in my pocket and the slut visibly groaned as her body was able to relax. She looked exhausted already and we hadn’t even started!

Moving my fingers to her slit, she winced as I worked two fingers inside her. She had obviously climaxed so many times that she was almost dry … perfect!

Hooking my digits inside her body I scooped the vibe down and out.

“Th … thank you,” she whispered, still struggling to speak.

Grabbing her by the neck chain I pulled the slut to her feet and dragged her behind me to the interrogation cell. She struggled to maintain her footing over the few yards that we travelled, but I cared not.

“You, come too.” I spoke quickly at Red as we marched past her.

Unfastening the slut’s wrists, I looked at her, and then at the long, old, flat, wooden rack.

“Get on.”

There was no dissent from her as she climbed aboard, and I set about tying her wrists, one to each corner of the wooden device. I then fastened her ankles into the iron manacles that were fixed to the bottom of the heinous device … and she was fastened in … ready for the ride of her young life!

My Little Girl’s eyes were now wide open and she stared upwards at the ceiling as if trying to focus her mind … was she focused on what was about to happen, or something completely different in an attempt to divert the pain.

With the slut secured on the rack I turned to Red.

“Strip.”

The flame-haired beauty nodded and slipped off her jacket. It was if she knew her time was coming … and that it had just arrived.

I watched as she pulled the cropped top over her head to expose her beautiful, braless breasts. Her jeans followed.

Red’s thighs were smooth, firm, just the right mix of muscle tone and softness. Wonderfully smooth calves, perfect feet; so dainty and pedicured, slender little ankles.

I nodded and she wound down her black, flimsy girl boxers, with the lace trimmed edge.

Wow. A perfect naked canvas, adorned with beautiful body art, ready to be beaten.

“Hands behind your back Red, now!” My tone was quiet, but the intent very clear. She obeyed.

I turned back to my slut and she saw the knife in my hand.

She stared, more in fascination than horror as I stepped closer, lowering the knife towards her belly. She tried to wriggle away, a natural enough response, but was held tight by her restrained limbs. Her eyes closed with a slight gasp as I laid the blunt side of the blade along her stomach.

“Be very, very still, Little Girl” I told her softly. I slid the knife up along the gentle groove of her belly and down between her thighs. Using the point of the blade I burrowed it slowly and very carefully between her puffy, sticky labia and slipped the sharp, shank into her pussy. The slut groaned, but she did not move one single inch, I gradually pushed the blade deeper. Leaving it in situ I moved to the top of the rack where the handle was.

She was gorgeous, my Little Girl, especially now that she was star-fished out on the cold, old wood of the rack, her wrists and ankles roped to its opposing ends. Her legs were slim and gleaming, her hips slender, her stomach flat and firm. Her ribcage formed a gentle arch topped by her proud breasts. Her arms were sleek and toned with young muscle, and from my vantage point looking down her body, I could see the knife protruding from her cunt.

I gripped the rack's cross-shaped handle, and gave it a turn. The roller shifted, and the ropes pulled on the slut's wrists, straightening her arms. She looked up towards her hands in sudden alarm, and the ratchet locked in place with a satisfying sound.

“Oh fuck?” she whimpered. Her bare breasts were shifting quickly with the movement, rising up her nubile body.

I turned the handle again. This time there was resistance, as my Little Girl’s body was moved into place by the tightening process, and wrist ropes pulling taut, her legs now being pulled hard against the harsh, old iron that encased her ankles.

I noted my delight that her fingers were closed around the ropes from her wrists, her toes fanning out, an unconscious reflex to resist. I really didn’t want her to like this too much …

And sure enough, when I started to turn the handle again, I saw her muscles tense. Her arms and thighs acquired a more detailed definition as she pulled on the ropes in opposition to the rack's force. But the slut soon learned that she could do nothing to halt its progress, as the handle moved regardless, drawing her body a half-inch tauter. She gave a moan of panic as the ratchet clinked home, and then screamed as her back began to move over the wooden studs that dotted the three rollers which she was now being dragged over.

I moved to the juncture of her thighs and saw a small trickle of blood dripping from her pussy, where the knife point had scratched her sensitive folds. She looked so damn hot with the red rivulet dripping from her slit, over her perineum to stimulate her pudendal nerve.

Gripping the handle, I slowly pulled the knife out and released a little more blood with it.

“You are so fucking helpless Little Girl,” I smirked with satisfaction.

Just to prove my point, and demonstrate the true nature of her helplessness, I gave the rack one more turn. This time, the stretch to her whole body was visible; her arms and legs, already straight, grew even more taut, her ribcage lifted, her belly hollowed, and she gave a loud gasp. Her fingers released the ropes, a sign that my slut had already started to accept the inevitability of the torture.

I left her there and moved to Red, who stood looking at the tortuous vignette, her hands now high behind her head. She too was breathing heavily, no doubt with a fear-ridden anticipation of what lay in store for her, and also at having watched the slut being tortured before her very eyes.

“Do you like watching?” I asked, moving my hand between her thighs, pushing her legs apart, cupping her mound.

She nodded.

“Do you want to be her?” I asked, my question now a little more pointed.

She did not reply.

“Do, you?” I pursued an answer.

“I, d … don’t know,” her reply was stunted, partly, I guessed, due to the nature of the question, but also down to the fact that I was now fingering her rapidly moistening pussy.

Pushing her back to the cell wall, my fingers buried even deeper inside her, I pushed my body close and my mouth to within an inch of hers.

“I know you don’t love me Red, but kiss me.”

And she did, a deep, open mouthed kiss, though I wasn’t certain whether the source of such passion was genuine or whether it was simply that Red knew that was what I wanted her to do. It didn’t matter … she did it anyway. Our embrace was broken by a wail from the slut.

I pulled away from Red and looked down upon the rack

My Little Girl was shivering, her ribcage stark, standing out from her otherwise perfect shape, her nipples settled like hard, fleshy bullets. There was beautiful desperation on every trembling breath. I smiled; fear only improved the effect of the rack, reducing the flexibility of muscles and tendons … and the slut was definitely showing some of that!

Then she wailed, but could do nothing as I pulled the lever like the handle of a slot machine. The handle turned, the ropes were pulled, and by her wrists, the slut was stretched further.

Her muscles and joints were already tense, and, as her body rolled over the wooden studs that speared her back, the heightened levels of pain seemed to hit her at once. My Little Girl gave a gasp, then a whimper, clenching her teeth. I waited a few seconds, then turned the lever once more. As the ratchet clinked into place, the slut was stretched again, and this time she gave a very satisfying loud yell!

Fuck, I was so damn erect!

Her fingers curled and flexed uselessly as I watched the sweat begin to bead on her breasts and neck. The muscles in her arms and legs were hard with the strain, the ropes tight around her wrists. Now it was getting interesting; the pain had really started to hit home, and every time she stretched it would grow exponentially.

I put my hands on the lever, fixed my eyes on her. “Feel this!”

I turned the roller. I saw the slut's lithe young body stretch as the wrist-ropes shortened another half inch. As pain flashed through her limbs and her back, she screamed.

“AAAAAARRGHHHH! Sto… o … op!” Her head tipped back, her eyes squeezed shut. I could see the tension all through her body, her ribcage stark. I knew at this early stage that the pain was intense and burning, but it was through muscles rather than tendons, still so relatively mild.

I moved to her head and grinned into her face. “Stop Little Girl, you want me to stop … you, my perfect Pain Slut, want me to cease your suffering. Do you really?”

The slut looked at me, tears flowing down her cheeks and then turned her head away.

“No, I thought not.” I laughed, and putting my hands to the handle again, and gave it another turn.

Part 10 – The Girl

I'm trembling. Still trembling. And soaking and feeling dried out all at the same time. And so fucked up.

And now I'm here. Facing her.

I always dreamt of her. Well, as long as I had these sorts of dreams.

So beautiful.

Long, sleek. Waiting.

I look at the row of teeth. Wishing they were sharper. At the irons for my ankles. At the ropes for my wrists. I'm so ready for this.

And I'm thinking of all the girls who went before me. Unknown girls in Bamberg or Toledo. Anne in the Tower and her screams so loud they heard them in the garden. And the Roman woman who rebelled and strangled herself rather than face a second ride.

So I know it's going to hurt. Terribly. Awfully.

It has just one purpose. To make its guest suffer appallingly. To suffer the most exquisite pain imaginable.

And now I am to be its guest.

He asks me to get on and of course I do. I slide my body, my trembling body (it's fear as well as excitement. Real fear), onto the wooden bed.

I extend my limbs so he can more easily attach me to the machine. I am ready. I stare up at the ceiling. I am ready. I want this. I do. I am sure I do.

He tells me to be still. I feel him pass a blade over my belly. Over my cunt. I feel him slip the blade into may cunt, painlessly. Unless I move. I am on my rack with a knife in my cunt. I am so amazing. I am so amazing. I am so fucking amazing.

He tells her to strip. I glance quickly. Fuck she is so lovely.

I think I must be lovely too. Tied now onto my machine. Waiting.

He goes to the handles. Oh fuck. It will start.

He turns. I feel the tension, so very light, beginning.

'oh fuck...'

I feel the skin tighten over my ribs. My arms and legs beginning to be drawn out and away. I feel my belly become tight. I feel the knife in my slit. I feel such wonderful feelings. But I am so terrified. This has hardly started.

He tells her to look at me. I try to glance. I know she wants to be me. I want to see her like me. I fucking love her.

He turns it again. Now it's hurting. My body becomes not mine. Suspended between my ankles and wrists. Pulling me open. My cunt hurts. My shoulders are crying at me that they want this to stop. My hips are screaming at me. BUt it's just starting. I gasp and try to control my breath. I can see my breasts rising and falling. Tight. I feel so tight. A piece of string. A beautiful string being pulled and pulled and pulled.

FUUUCK ! This is hurting so much! I think of Anne . THey broke her. They had to carry her to her burning. He could break me. He could leave me wrecked forever. Broken. He's fucking breaking me apart! I want this to stop and to carry on and it fucking hurts so much!!!

“AAAAAARRGHHHH! Sto… o … op!”

He turns it again. I want.... I don;t fucking know what I want!

He asks if I want him to stop.

I don't .... I know I don't.... he can tear me apart. I fucking want this. I am in so much pain now! I can't shout! I can't...

AAAAAGH!!!! OWWWWAAAAAGHHHH! AAAAAAAAAGHHHHH!

I can shout! I can! I can still breathe. I can... I am so tight! I love this soo much. It hurts so fucking much! I want him to kill me on this fucking machine! I want him to tear my fucking arms and legs off! I want to die here with her watching!

I don't! I just want this to last forever. To get worse. To hurt more. Iwant to hurt so fucking much! I want him to turn the wheel again. I want to hurt on this lovely machine so much! I want her to watch. I want her to watch me. My tight beautiful body. Crying out in pain for her. I fucking love her so fucking much!

I stare up. I am looking at the sky of my cell. I am staring up. He passes my side. I feel the sweat on my side. I feel the sweat on my face. I feel my wrists and ankles on fire. I feel my lungs screaming at me to stop. I feel my belly tearing inside me. I feel my groin and my armpits and my knees and my elbows and my back and everything and he's going to tighten it again and I so much want him to! I want him to!

Hurt me! Hurt me sooo much! Hurt me!

Part 11 – The Guy

I turned the handle another notch and the slut screamed as she was stretched … this time I heard the ropes creaking as they pulled her body more taut. The ratchet clicked into place with a metallic sounding clank.

My Little Girl’s eyes were now wide, her mouth open as she drew breath and screamed again, agony etched into her pretty features. I could see the tendons in her arms and legs and marvelled at how tight they already were, the muscles drawn rigid. Her spine popped as it flexed out.

“Oh, God … stop the pain, please!” The slut wailed, the obvious pain so evident in her beautiful face.

I just laughed … maybe she wasn’t so brave as she thought she was!

Sweat began to shine on her exposed ribcage and breasts and in the hollows of her strained armpits.

I couldn't resist her. Slowly I moved to the base of the rack, and put my hand to her foot. I trailed my fingertips up the pale sole and over the hardened skin, across the arch, then around to her ankle, where the iron manacle was grinding against her flesh releasing small rivulets of blood to run down over her ankle bone and onto the wooden slats of the rack. I ran my hand up her smooth calf to her knee, then slowly up her thigh … her beautiful, glistening thigh … hardened with the strain.

Slowly, I slid my hand up over the concave camber of her stomach, it was hollowed out, a rivulet of sweat running provocatively down the groove to her navel. The slut’s sweat-streaked ribcage, by contrast, was lifted and harshly visible through her skin. Reaching out to touch her, I ran my fingertips over each bony ridge, until I reached the softness of her breast. Her beautiful firm breast, pulled high up her stretched body, the nipple hard … begging for attention.

My Little Girl’s skin was warm and downy, clustered with droplets of sweat, and I brushed my fingers over the teat, where her nipple stood stone-hard ... it puckered to the touch.

She could only cry out as, once again, I put my hands to the lever, and wrenched the handle around. The slut was stretched even further, and let out a long scream of pain. It was getting harder to turn the roller … she was nearing the limit of her body's capacity to stretch. I felt my cock ache as I watched her throw her head from side to side, screaming in agony.

Such a simple method of torture, and yet so effective.

My slut’s youthful, rounded, breasts were heaving fast as she screamed, her hands curled into tight fists beyond the groaning ropes. Her whole body was covered in dripping perspiration, as he lay on my rack … twisting and turning, writhing and squirming endlessly, as far as the ropes and manacles would allow.

With my Little girl’s screams echoing around my head I looked down upon her stretched body one last time before moving to Red, who still stood, back against the wall, pussy glistening from my earlier attention, hands on head, just watching …

“Do you like seeing your little friend like that?” I smirked.

Red nodded.

“Do you want me to hurt you?”

She shrugged … her apparent indifference made me smile. I knew why she was here.

“Did you come here today to be hurt Red?”

Again, she nodded, and now I smiled.

“Good then let me move the wooden horse over to here for you. I saw her eyes close momentarily on hearing the news of my intention. The sharp surfaced saw horse was made of oak … long-lasting and heavy.

But I was able to move it to a vantage point where both girls could see one another, and the horse was directly until a thick ceiling chain with a large hook attached to it.

Perfect.

The horse came complete with two wooden blocks to assist the victim when she was straddling it, and, with them both being connected by a single piece of rope, they could be pulled away simultaneously when the victim was appropriately positioned, maximising the impact of the sharp, splintered wood surface as it cut deep into her cunt.

I pulled the flame-haired girl over to the heinous device waiting nearby. It was such a simple thing … a triangular plank of oakwood, sharp side up, mounted high on a pair of stout posts.

Our attention was fleetingly taken by the slut crying out once again, but the volume of her cries was weakening, as no doubt was her resolve.

Yet still my Little Girl found the desire from deep within her tortured body to flick her eyelids open, just a little, to take a squinted look at Red, her naked lover, about to be damaged.

I had placed the wooden blocks on either side of the horse and it was to these that I led her. I placed Red’s left foot on the near block and swung her body up and her leg over the ridge until she stood precariously on the two supports, her crotch a foot or so above the sharp ridge.

“Are you scared Red?” I asked.

She nodded, and that pleased me.

Moving to my accessories holdall I brought out two small bags filled with small lead weights, each weighing around fifteen pounds each. Heavy enough without being too outrageous.

When she saw what I was intending Red looked up the cell roof and groaned. Kneeling I bound the small bags of weights tightly to her big toes with twine. The bags could have been much heavier, but still, she would feel the bite between her thighs well enough.

Once I had finished weighing her body down, I stood back to admire my handiwork.

“Hold out your wrists girl,” I ordered. Slowly but surely, she did as I asked, teetering a little on the stumps. I cuffed her with the same cuffs previously used on the slut, and then I carefully pulled her arms high in front of her body and hooked the cuffs over the large ceiling hook.

There were no remote-controlled winches in this old cell network, put several slow pulls on the rope pulley pulled her arms high in the air. Beautiful … now she too was stretched. The size of the blocks was much bigger than the gap between her pussy and the edge of the saw-horse, and it was clear that when she fell downwards the wood would cut deep!

Red staggered on the stumps, her curvaceous nude torso held erect by the chained cuffs securing her wrists high in the air.

She made an arousing sight for sure. Besides making her stand upright, the position forced her beautiful, tattooed naked breasts to thrust out and up as if she was flaunting them for admiration.

"P-P-Please, don't do this to me, I’ve changed my mind," the russet-haired beauty pleaded in a trembling voice. I simply smiled and ignored her. Despite their crazy masochistic desires, these two little girls felt the same fear as everyone else. But this was going to happen … we had gone too far for it not to …

I felt my cock rising again in anticipation, but I would wait before releasing my pent-up need. There was much more to enjoy here than simply fucking the slut and her red-haired friend.

“Look at the slut, Red, see her pain, feel her agony …” I let those words hang in the air as I took up my position.

Moving behind her, smiling as I saw her neck turn a little to follow my movement, I leaned down, picked up the block-rope in my grip and wrenched on it. The blocks jerked out from under Red's feet and she dropped. The fall wasn't far, but damn, it was far enough! All of her weight and that of the small lead-weighted bags dropped her crotch heavily onto the sharp wooden ridge.

There was a sound like a falling sack of grain and the flame-haired girl seemed to bounce a little, but that was only the lead weight bags settling. The height of the saw horse was such that the weights wouldn't rest on the ground so all the weight centred on the victim's groin, biting deep into her tortured pussy.

I saw the look of uncomprehending shock on the Red’s face and then the full, inhuman pain clearly erupted in her pussy and her screams roared out echoing around the small stone cell. It was hard to believe that such strident noises could possibly emerge from such a beautiful and delicate creature.

I stared at Red. She looked stunning. Her mouth gulped and anguished groans rolled from her throat, interspersed with incoherent pleas and loud shrieks. Her breasts, now thrust forward due to her new position astride the horse, seemed to have swollen and the nipples stood out much like my Little Girl’s did …

How lucky could one guy get … two beauties, bound and tortured … and totally at my mercy!

Part 12 – The Girl

He turns it again. Click. Just a simple, little sound.

I feel my body pulled in two directions. And held. No recovery. No relaxation of the tension. Held.

Suspended.

I look up at my wrists as best I can. I can hardly feel them. My fingers are bunched. I can see the blood where the ropes have torn my flesh.

I look down at my feet. Over my raised, heaving breasts. So tightly stretched. Over my hollow of a belly, glistening with sweat, rising in little pants.

At my ankles. Bloodied by the manacles. Crushing my bones. But I can hardly feel that.

I just feel this tremendous hurt. In my shoulders and hips and arms and legs and back. Hurt isn't even the word. It's beyond hurt now. Beyond agony.

No-one would want this.

Not me.

Not anyone.

But I still do.

Whatever I shout . “Oh, God … stop the pain, please!”

I know he won't.

I know he knows that I want him to carry on.

I am in such a place. So awful. So beautiful. Being torn apart.

Click.

It can't be possible.

But I know it is.

He can cripple me. Slowly. Permanently. And that's still a long way off.

He can tear ligaments, cause me to bleed inside. He can rupture muscles in my belly. He can hurt me so very much more and still fix me.

He's good at that, I know.

And I want more. Whatever he hears me say he knows that I am asking for this to continue.

He touches me.

My skin is electric.

My belly. My feet. My legs.

I am not mine.

And now he's with her.

I glance. It hurts to raise my head.

He talks to her.

She's scared. Maybe more than me. Maybe. But she wants it too.

Ropes.

Something he raises her onto.

I can see!

Up he raises her.

And she screams!

Her legs apart.

Her cunt smashing into the hardness of the wooden horse.

She screams!

And I want, in that instant, to be her. To have her hurt.

I love that girl so much. She is so beautiful. Stretched and gasping for breath. Her lovely tits rising as she gasps. Her mouth wide open like her eyes.

I want to lick her cunt. Lick the blood from her cunt.

I want to be her.

But I want to be me too. On my machine. In my own agony.

I can't hold my head up any more.

I'm staring at the ceiling. Listening to her. Feeling my body at its limits. Waiting for another turn. Waiting for something to explode in me. Waiting to match her cry with my shriek of total ecstatic agony.

We both wanted this. This is what we wanted and he's giving it to us. Pain. Naked, simple, hidden pain.

No-one knows we are here. No-one cares.

He can kill us. No-one will know.

But we are here. And we are getting what we asked for and it's awful and it's beautiful. I never want to stop doing this.

I want him to turn the handle again...

Part 13 – The Guy

The scene was magnificent. Two young pretty girls, very pretty girls … students by day, Pain Sluts by night, or should I say ‘by weekend’.

My Little Girl had fallen silent, save for the occasional whimper, her limbs no doubt numb to the feel, the bones and joints of her nubile body pulling agonisingly under the taut, stretched skin, muscle and tendon surrounding them.

I looked back across at her friend, her eyes closed, her chest heaving, her throat panting and gasping. Red's upper body was sweating profusely from the effort of enduring the inhuman agony that would by now be throbbing through her most private and tender parts.

I stepped aside and watched, observing in wonder, and then with a smile and an ever growing bulge in my green army style jeans. I returned to the rack, and, more specifically, it’s lever, and braced myself for the effort of turning it.

As the rachet clicked to reflect another half an inch of body stretch, the slut's whimpering became a rising shriek of terror, but she was absolutely helpless to stop me, and I cranked the rack over anyway.

Squealing and groaning, the ropes hauled another small, but unnatural, length out of the slut's pain-wracked body. Her scream of agony was deafening, her body creaking to match the sound of the rack. Impossibly, her ribcage crept a fraction higher still, her belly superbly hollow and taut. She was fighting for each breath, only to quieten when she had screamed her lungs empty. The sweat ran from her body, and in the warm cell air sensual wisps of steam curled up from her tight skin.

I backed away a little to gaze upon her agony, my eyes sweeping the extended lines of her straining bare limbs, her scooped out belly and raised ribs.

Now was the point of conflict. Did I continue stretching her, and risk pulling her arms out of their sockets?

What if I was to wait a while … might her tendons and ligaments adjust slightly and withstand a few more notches, or were they already on the cusp breaking point?

There was only one way to find out.

I grasped the lever again. The slut's eyes widened, but she was clearly in too much pain to implore anything from me. I threw my weight against the lever, pushing hard. With a groan, the roller creaked out its groaning movement and shifted. My Little Girl’s back, impaled on the studs beneath her, arched away from the surface of the rack as her limbs were pulled, and pulled … and pulled some more.

Her wrists were hauled towards the head of the rack, her ankles remained anchored to its foot … her body was thus, yet again, lengthened. This time, instead of a scream, she gave a high-pitched wail. Her fingers and toes fanned out, her eyes rolled back, and, as I watched, my slut finally passed out from the pain.

I looked over her prostrate body, bound to the old wooden rack. She looked so damn beautiful, I ached to have her.

I waited, listening to the slow creaks of the rack, the shallow breathing of my unconscious victim, combined now with the more real time groans from her saw-horse-mounted friend. I half expected to hear the muted pop of a joint dislocating, but there was nothing. The Little Girl's youth had created a lithe and flexible body, which meant she had withstood a serious racking without injury.

So far …

Taking a moment to capture my own breath and gather my thoughts … this was exhausting for me too …I turned my attention back to Red.

I could see her muscles twist and pulse as her body tried in vain to remove itself from the agonising pain that would right now be biting into her sensitive folds. The muscles in her legs stood out like cabled steel, and the layer of her abdominal body tone shuddered from the strain and efforts to draw in air to her shocked lungs.

But the flame-haired girl found the strength and energy from within the depths of her pain, to cry out her torment. Her head rolled in desperate circles and continuous screams emanated from her throat as curses and pleadings burst from her lips. Red’s upper body swayed, her breasts heaved and shuddered, but her lower body was as unmoving as stone. It was as if her pussy had been made for this horrible, sharp-edged intruder. It seemed to fit her perfectly.

As I stood next to her, enjoying the spectacle of her agony, she looked in anguish back at me. Were my eyes as cold as I intended them to be? I hoped so.

“How do you feel Red? Huh? Is the pain getting worse with each passing second? Is the ache in your pubic bone so intense that you feel like you will split wide open?”

She said nothing, but as I said these words, I felt my own desire heighten.

“If that happened Red, then we will see your life’s blood flow copiously across the wood … ohhhh how splendid would that look? Huh, Red?”

I was mocking her with my provocative tone, but clearly, my words were the least of her problems.

“I … I can’t move. The … the pain … in waves … so much … so bad …”

Fuck yes. She spoke and described her feelings. Stunning!

I lashed out with my foot, kicking the legs of the horse. A scream so horrible and shrill burst from the lungs of the flame-haired friend, that for a moment she fell forward in her bonds, head forced down towards the beam, her breasts swaying and her hair covering her face. But this would only have shifted the hurt further up her pubic bone, taking away the slight support provided by her firm, peachy ass. This brought her out of her daze and she straightened up again.

Red shuddered and, so delightfully, stifled a small sob.

She dropped her gaze, and for a moment seemed to be able to catch her breath, her moans and whimpers reducing to a minimum, crying out only when the pain seemed to find a new pathway into her soul.

But she couldn’t stop the tears. Those beautiful tears. They ran down her cheeks, dripped from her nose and chin. She sniffed and tried to catch her shallow breath to choke back the quiet cries … Red was truly a sight to behold! but nothing seemed to help.

“Can you imagine how you look to me Red, huh?” I spoke as I circled slowly around her body. “Can you imagine how I am devouring the sight of your suffering throughout this harrowing ordeal. I can see your legs trembling and I can only imagine the tendons along your inner thighs throbbing with agony.”

She remained silent, all of her effort seemingly focused on keeping the pain at bay.

I moved to her front and peered down to the point where the wood ate away at her pussy. I could see the soft flesh of her mound, pulsing ever so slightly with each agonising twitch of her legs. Her abdominal muscles churned with her efforts to hold in the gasps and moans that she desperately tried to keep from her lips.

I could see the pink skin of her most tender flesh slowly reddening as the delicate petals that protected her womanhood swelled under the unending pressure of her own weight.

Truly fucking awesome!

Part 14 – The Girl

I'm in a dream. Nothing hurts. Everything hurts. All of me. But I'm floating. Nothing hurts.

I can feel my body that isn't my body and look at my body, drawn out below me. An extended, beautiful, naked, sweat-laced X.

A kiss on my machine. A kiss for Abi.

Floating in utter agony that doesn't have a source and doesn't know how to stop and is just everywhere.

And he will turn it again. And I want it.

He turns the crank.

I feel the pressure on my arms, my shoulders, my hips. Tendons stretching individually. I can feel them. Muscles trying to tear away from bones. My diaphragm trying to rip apart to relieve the pressure. My skin ripped taut over my ribs.

I hear the echo of my scream that comes from somewhere. I don't know where it's from. It just fills the cell. Bouncing back into my ears. Hurting my lungs. I just scream. He has no idea how much pain he is causing me. I know it has to stop or he will destroy me.

He can.

I don't care. I don't want it to stop. He can destroy me. He can turn until my limbs pop and squeak and rip. He can until my limbs dislocate and my belly tears in two. He can. I don't want it to stop.

He's hurting me so much.

He turns again. I hear the ropes screaming in their own pain. The irons straining to hold my legs. I hear the wooden bench groaning under the pressure.

My head falls back. My back arches upwards the little it can. My spine is pulling apart. My skin sreams as it rises from the sharpness of the roller beneath me. I stare. My eyes wide open stare. He is taking me to the edge. He is trying to find that edge half an inch at a time. If he gets it wrong, I die.

I die.

And I don't care.

I want this.

I want to....

Hurt... On my lovely wooden bed.... so beautiful I am... so perfect.... I am....

It hurts....

He has no idea.

It's beautiful to be here....

I want to hurt...

I want to hurt...

This is so beautiful...

I hurt so much.

I'm seeing such pretty lights. Like lovely slow fireworks. Like the Aurora. Floating.

It's so pretty here...

I like it here so much...

Part 15 – The Guy

A slight shift and one of Red’s labia peeled away from the wood, only to sinking back down almost immediately.

Then, when her whole consciousness had undoubtedly become centred on the thin lips of her vaginal flesh, Red began to drift away, swaying in her bonds, her full weight resting on the saw-horse and her cuffed wrists.

I could see she was on the edge of consciousness, and like her friend and lover, was about to leave this world … albeit only temporarily.

I looked once more at her split mound. the swollen lips were bathed in agony and the bone that that flesh was compressed against was so profoundly visible it must hurt like hell.

There was no sound from her now. But I would change that, she would stay with me, remain conscious … no taking the coward’s way out!

Moving to my bag I took out a leather switch. A single, solid lash with a flap on the end to add to the pain of the strike. If Red saw what I had picked up she showed no recognition of the fact. So, I stood to her side and raised my arm …

The leather that cut through her delirium was thin and supple … switch-like, with the end of the cruel implement enabling it to twitch and curl its way through the air.

The first cut (and it literally was) landed against her flank, the tip curling back to just kiss her ass-cheek, leaving a red martk and broken skin behind it.

Her attention snapped back to the present with a start. Wide opened eyes, pupils dilated and glazed, she looked down at her sweat streaked and tear laden body.

Following another glance at her mound I grinned and then laughed.

“Look you fucking whore, see the juices oozing around the edge of the plank where it has sawed through your cunt? That moisture is not just sweat, your pussy has attempted to lubricate itself ... “

I knew that it would do that in an attempt to provide some sort of self-defence. But when I spoke, I only mocked her. Grabbing her hair, I twisted her head to the side to face me. The agony etched into her features was exquisite.

“What sort of perverted slut gets off on this huh? You really are a fucking whore aren’t you!”

“Oh, and you’re awake now, are you Red? Thought you were falling asleep on us. No rest for the weary, whore,” I said as I lashed out again, this time catching her across the breasts, slicing over her nipples as the firm mounds swung pendulously in her fruitless efforts to avoid the blow.

The way that Red arched her body away from the blow manifested the renewed agony that rushed outward from between her tortured thighs, and she shrieked in her distress.

“That’s more like it cunt, now scream for me!”

I watched the raised, swollen line the switch had carved into her breasts quickly turn scarlet, and once again a horrible scream burst from her lips, ending in a dry hacking cough. Even her throat was being torn up from this torture. Perfect!

Once again, I began to slowly circle her, smiling cruelly. She followed me with her eyes as much as her position permitted. My gaze bore into hers … hopefully chilling her to the bone. I wanted to show no compassion at all, no shame at the horrible way I was abusing her.

As I circled her on the right, I had to step over the weighted toe-bag that pulled her body downwards. As I brought my trailing foot over the bag, I caught it. Just a slight touch, but balanced as precariously as Red was it was enough to cause her body to lurch toward me, and then desperately she leaned the other way in order to once again try and distribute the load.

I laughed at her struggle.

Red strained her neck as I passed behind her, but I slid from her view. Once more I raised my arm and lashed out as I struck her high on her back, catching the flesh of her upper arm, shoulder blades and the sensitive skin of her exposed arm pit.

The flame-haired girl’s resolve must have been completely shattered and she began to beg for me to stop. The most horribly perverted promises rolled off her lips, interspersed with simple begging. The only effect that Red would see was my smile as it grew even more broad.

“Really, whore? You think I won’t simply take all of those things and more from you whenever I like?” I asked in a pleasant, calm tone … and then I sliced the switch diagonally across her abdomen.

Red doubled over in screaming agony. Her head came close to resting on the sharp beam and she stalled, staring down at her own pussy. That tortured mound …

She would see that her lips were horribly swollen, and suddenly it appeared as if she couldn’t breathe. Whether from the shock of pain or the depth of her scream her sternum had frozen. She opened and closed her mouth helplessly, searching desperately for the next breath of air.

It was a joy to watch!

But she managed, finally, clinging onto life for all she was worth, with every last ounce of her steadfastness. But she had little time to reflect on the irony of her mixed relief, because in this extremely forward leaning position, all of the weight from her body was focused at the very top of her vulva, where her sensitive clitoris tried to hide in the swollen folds of her flesh.

“Even more painful huh, Red?” I taunted.

And then, there was that resolve again, as she desperately tried to pull herself upright, but with such little leverage, she was finding the task impossible.

I brought the switch down across her lower back, just above her hips, at the point where the flesh is already shallow, and to compound the torment, in her current position, stretched and distended to the extreme, the loudest scream yet burst from her lips, as spittle flew from her mouth. Her back muscles, somehow finding the strength to work in new ways, jerked her upright, to create a new epicentre of pain, centred upon point where her spine ended just as the flesh of her rear began to swell.

The muscles along her spine, were now being asked to work in ways nature hadn’t intended, and she began to writhe and squirm as her body was clearly beginning to spasm.

The perfect saw-horse storm! Red’s body was cramping and spasming, and every time it did so, new pain would throb mercilessly between her legs.

I slowly continued my circling, spacing out my slashes with the switch to maximise the agonising impact ... making them horribly and efficiently steady with regularity!

I smiled at the trickle of blood running down Red’s chin, from where she had bitten into her lip, to drip onto her breasts. Slowly the red drops turned pink as perspiration mingled with her blood, and slowly washed it away.

The cuts themselves were harsh, but worse as she jerked her body away from an impending lash or in response to one just received, was that the flesh of her labia twitched and slid along the rough plank, taking in the tiny splinters of wood as they worked their way into her swollen lips and the oversensitive flesh of her clitoris. This was slowly killing Red, and it was the most exquisite death imaginable …

Part 16 – The Girl

I can't hear anything. I can't see anything.

Apart from.

That.

The rope.

So slight a sound.

Creaking in pain.

My rope.

My arms.

Creaking.

Next to me my arms.

Creaking.

My pain. Swallowing me whole. Owning me so totally. Every bit of me.

Eyes half open. Flicking.

Can't move my head it's so heavy.

Just pain. My pain.

No-one ever said it would hurt like this.

Not the pictures or the little videos of actresses in torture chambers.

But it's like this. Like Anne felt in the Tower.

Unbreakable pain in a breakable body.

Being torn slowly apart.

Waiting to die.

A good student, well-liked, who will do well if she remains focused on her studies. She has won a place at M.... to study history and with her interest could well go on to graduate studies and perhaps an academic career. (Although her friends would say that she's easily distracted by her many out of curricula interests ....)

Oh yes, those interests... Who ever knew they could take you to a basement in Leeds and land you on a torture rack...

Crack!

A scream fills the room.

Her.

Abi. Can't see her.

I know what's happening. I can hear it. Whipping her. On that thing. I know her cunt is bouncing on that thing. That her skin is being torn. That her sex is being wrecked by him.

How is she?

Is she blaming me?

Is it really my fault?

I hope she secretly loves it.

I think she does.

Crack!

I wish he would whip me now. On my hollowed out belly.

I can feel the cold blade in me. Fuck. In me. Between my stretched out legs. Waiting for me. To cut me in two.

I can hear the rope crying out softly.

Will the tourists find us here dead when he goes?

I can hear the rope crying out softly.

I can hear my body crying. It's not mine anymore. Abi's body isn't hers.

We are just pain objects for him.

My body hurts so much.

I want him to turn the crank again....

Part 17 – The Guy

“Pl … please, kill me Mister.” It was the weak voice of my Little Girl that saved Red from an even more extreme beating.

I turned to face her just as her eyes flickered open.

“Put the knife back inside me, please … and then pull upwards. Gut me, please …” she begged. The slut was serious.

“Please Mister, ten minutes of agony then it’s over. I can’t bear this, it just goes on and … arrgghhhhh!” She shifted on the rack as far as the bonds and manacles would allow. The pain of her position had clearly just once more fully infiltrated her, now conscious again, mind.

I edged closer to where she lay on the rack. I could see that despite the sweat covering her, she seemed so cold, her skin peppered with goosebumps, her nipples crinkled and erect, wisps of white on her shallow breath. She was going into shock. My slut looked at me with those wide pleading eyes, and a tear spilled, quickly hidden by the horizon of her upstretched arm.

“Please Mister … if you d … do th … that for me then I will l … love you for eternity …”

I paused before finally looking back down upon her, catching her gaze in mine and said, simply, “There is no escape slut. I want to break you.”

I couldn't believe how turned on I felt. It was power, lust and sadism and pure ‘horny’, all merged into one. Moving my position, I passed the head of this wonderful rack, running my hand across the locked roller.

I closed my hand over the lever of the rack, caressed it as if it was my hardened cock. My Little Girl tipped her head back between her straining arms as far as she could and watched, her expression horrified, mesmerised, terrified.

“And I am doing it well … right slut? Breaking you, I mean?”

I hauled on the lever.

My Little Girl started screaming. As her tortured body was subjected to new strain, new pain was brought forth designed to explode through her limbs with a fresh intensity.

Even so, the handle barely moved. I had to throw my weight against the lever, using all the strength of my arms to wrestle it around. Slowly, creaking and groaning, the roller turned and the slut was stretched further … her screams reached a new height of frenzy.

I kept wrenching at the lever, until the ratchet finally closed, locking the slut tightly in place.

She suffered beautifully and I watched in amazement, astounded that her body had taken such punishment. Maybe her young frame had adjusted over the time during which she had been racked? I had stretched her five or six inches, and she was in serious pain, but not a joint dislocated, not a tendon snapped.

I looked back at Red, unmoving on the saw-horse. A dead weight splitting her pussy lips, inviting the sharp wooden edge inside. She too looked beautiful … never in my wildest fantasies had I imagined this scenario, not with two such beauties. My hard-on was rock solid … but I was determined to leave it as such, always ready, on the edge, needing release … that way I maintained a heightened level of desire for myself.

Should I nail her clit to the wood? Like I had seen on the pron video the previous day? I had the tools. Just imagine … fuck! I was almost ready to retrieve the hammer and nails, when I decided against it. Why destroy her? I want to fuck her again eventually … no, the horse was enough, at least for Red.

But my Little Girl needed more. She needed to be taken further down in the descent of horror that she was currently being subjected to.

I turned to look back at the slut.

What would happen if I gave the handle another turn?

The thought overran into my mind, and I my cock ached at the thought. I had to find out.

She turned her head to watch as I approached the rack once more.

Then she cried out.

“No! No! No, God, no!” The slut started shrieking through the clouds of her pain as I returned my hands to the lever. But she could do nothing as I heaved again, putting my shoulders into it. The roller grated and creaked, winding in its rope, and her body was again stretched.

She let out a hideous scream, and then, as the ratchet locked in place again, my Little Girl gave a series of high, breathless gasps.

Her naked body was impossibly tight, goosebumps everywhere, muscles and ribs and breasts and her shining, swollen mound and a continuous shiver as her life began to ebb. The slut's eyes seemed to see nothing as she lay gasping, unable to catch her breath.

Finally, with a little whimper, her head fell to the side as she fainted once again. I put my finger back to the release lever. She was out cold. I could pull her arms out of their sockets.

I almost pushed the lever, then I stopped myself.

I hesitated.

Should I …?

Part 18 – The Girl

“Pl … please, kill me Mister.”

I don't know where the words came from, but, in that moment, I meant them. I wanted to die. I wanted the pain I was in but...but I wanted it to stop. I would take anything to stop it. I wanted him to kill me now and I was sure of it. And I wasn't.

“Put the knife back inside me, please … and then pull upwards. Gut me, please …”

I wanted him to gut me. To cut me from my cunt to my rib cage. To open my body to finality. To disembowel me. Like a prisoner being executed. I am a prisoner. His. Willingly. I know it will be unbearably awful. But I want him to cut me open. I really want him to. I really want him not to.

“Please Mister, ten minutes of agony then it’s over. I can’t bear this, it just goes on and … arrgghhhhh!”

I know it will be done. Horrible pain. Terrible unimaginable pain. Worse pain than my lovely rack. The worst pain in the world. But it will be done. And then I will be free of my fucking crazy mind. I will have what I want. And my body hurts so fucking much! I want to die. I don't want anything more. I am done. He has broken me. Almost. And I want him to cut me open.

I beg him... in the only way I know he might respond to. He's vain. I know.... And I want him to do it....

“Please Mister … if you d … do th … that for me then I will l … love you for eternity …”

My body's in torment. My skin is cold and stretched. My limbs are screaming at me. I mean it. But what the fuck is eternity? There's nothing. And I'll be a bloody corpse and a problem for him and I fucking hurt so fucking much and I want him to cut me now. My lovely Abi's cunt is being wrecked by him over there. She flashes in and out of my dimming sight. I want him to cut me. Through my cunt and my clit, through my belly button, all the way to my chest. To open me up.

He fucking won't.

He fucking won't.

He's going to turn it again. I hate this. I want him to. I hate him for this.

He's leaning on it.

The fucking sound of it!

And my fucking body!

The sound of my fucking body breaking!

And my wrists and ankles and all my joints and my skin and my tits and my belly and my fukcing life.

OK then. Do it Mister. Fucking rip me apart instead. I want you to. Slowly. Til My arms and legs are separated from me. And I bleed out.

How quick will it be?

Will I be conscious?

Will I feel myself die?

FUCKING HELL HE's HURTING ME!

He's with her. Thinking.

He's with her.

COME BACK AND KILL ME!

He's going to kill me. His way. Like I asked at the beginning. On the rack.

He's going to turn it again.

He's...

FUUUUUUUUUCKKKKKKKKKK!

FUUUUUUUUCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKK!

I can't!

He's going to ....

He's going to....

I want it....

I want it to stop.... I want to die.... I want him to turn it....

I fucking am....paining...hurt... fucking.... fuck..... I..... WANT....

Oh fucking hell! He's....

I wanted this. I am a fucking mad bitch.... I want.... cut me open bastard!

FUCK!

Turn it!

Tear me apart!

Just fucking kill me!

Part 19 – The Guy

Should I?

That had been the question. The answer was ‘yes’, of course ...

I needed to take her to that indefinable moment where her body literally broke for me. Would she die, here on the rack … maybe, I wasn’t sure.

Once more, I put my hands to the rack wheel, and gradually increased the tension. The slut looked to me though teary eyes as she felt the rack's motion, and pleaded, silently with me yet again, her eyes begging me to gut her and be done with it.

I remained impassive, and bizarrely my Little Girl then cast her gaze around the cell, to her friend and lover, who still lay unconscious on the savage saw-horse, and then she looked back at me …

Confusion seemed now to mix with the agony on her face and I knew that through the fog of what must be immense pain, my slut was beginning to lose her mind.

Slowly I maintained the motion of the rack, and her pleas became increasingly shrill as, despite me thinking it was impossible without breaking her, she was pulled ever tighter. Again, the tension in her body grew until her muscles and ribs were standing proud from her body. I could see the wooden spikes scratching at her back adding to her suffering, but I continued with the torture.

My Little Girl’s shrieks grew wheezy, then failed altogether as the strain grew beyond the point where her lungs could still draw breath, but without pause I continued still.

I listened to the sounds of her body being torn apart as I slowly forced the wheel still further, the creaks of her tendons and the grate of bone on bone joined by cracks as fused vertebrae began to separate, but I was not done yet.

With one last motion of the wheel, I finally broke the slut. in a very literal manner. With a double bang, both her shoulders finally popped, dislocating in a single agonising moment, the length of her arms growing by inches.

My Little Girl’s eyes bulged almost from their sockets at this unimaginable torment, and her mouth worked with soundless screams. I held her there as long as I could, and she lay silently shrieking for an age. Her very existence would now be rendered unbearable by her ruined shoulders.

Then I heard her pathetic whispers as she moved her lips. I put my ear to her mouth and heard her quietly gasp, “Pl … please Mister, just kill me …”

I chuckled and, in turn, moved my lips to her ear so that I could reply.

“Don’t worry slut, you are indeed here to die, but it will be me that chooses how and when."

They were the last words she heard, as she slipped into another welcome state of unconsciousness.

The cell was quiet save for my own heavy breathing. I hadn’t realised how much hard work this would be, torturing two girls like this with no end game, save the eroticism of the moment.

Soooo, my Little Girl thought she was about to die. That thought excited me … not so much the thought of her impending death, but the fact that she thought it. Except she was unconscious now, and so she wasn’t thinking anything.

Moving to my bag I took out a small sealed plastic bag. Inside was a supply of Epinephrine, and adrenaline liquid that could be injected into the body to strengthen it and ward off shock and stress. Both girls were in need of this right now.

It took only minutes for me to slide the needles into thighs, breaking the skin, slipping into muscles and infusing veins, and then only minutes more for the room to fill once more with groggy sounds as the girls slipped very gradually back into their conscious minds …

Unfortunately, for them, that meant reliving their pain, and the quiet, intermittent gasps soon turned once more into screams of agony, and my cock grew hard again.

I returned to the wheel of the rack. The slut’s face fell as she realised that her ordeal was not yet done. Again, she begged me to kill her, but I simply smirked and commenced the rack's motion once more. Slowly I turned the wheel, and the tension built in her ruined arms, sending her into a fit of dreadful shrieks.

The slut’s eyes snapped wide open, and she bellowed in agony at this latest motion of the helm. She let her head fall back, panting, all breath spent on shrieking out her torment. Momentarily, the turn over and done, she was able to gasp a breath, only to screech again in new agony as I twisted the rack suddenly, once again.

The abrupt application of a further increase of tension to her shoulders must have been almost beyond bearing, for her eyes went feral and for a time there was a look of madness on her face.

The slut's entire body spasmed, causing terrible pain to her already dislocated joints. She screamed loud enough to deafen us, Red and I, and flung her head back and forth. This prolonged assault on her body was more than she could ever have imagined.

I knew that this scene was almost played out, and that a single action was all that remained between the slut and her death. She couldn’t breathe. The access required to her lungs was completely blocked … this was far more effective, more quickly than even crucifixion.

With one slow motion, I drew the rack to the last point where my Little Girl could still draw breath. Leaning in close, I gently brushed her hair from her forehead, almost as a parent settling a restless child into bed.

"Goodbye," I mouthed silently, listening to her final whispers gasped out between short breaths dragged into her stretched lungs.

Then I turned to the wheel.

Slowly I stretched the slut, watching for a final time, the transformation the rack worked on her body. Once again, she became impossibly sylph like, as torso and limbs lengthened.

And still I turned the wheel.

Slowly the tension built, way past the point where her arms had failed, and the sounds of flesh and tendons stretching, on the verge of being torn asunder, were so very audible. The squealing sounds of automatic air release from between her dry lips, told me that her diaphragm was on the edge of being torn. Once that happened, and the diaphragm was breached, there was no turning back.

“Th … thank you,” she whispered with heart-breaking finality. Now, one more turn, just a single notch and she would never draw breath again.

I held her there, and for almost another minute she remained with me, her confused mind filled with unknowable pain, and then, eyes rolling back in her head, she sank into another blackout …

I was panting with lust, beside myself with desire … both girls were hanging onto life by a thread … fuck, fuckkkkk … my cock was pushing hard at my jeans, I needed to fuck … needed to screw, needed release …

But it wasn’t time for them to die.

Not yet, not here … and so I released the tension on the wheel, and stood back.

It was time to take them both down.

Part 20 – The Girl

He's going to do it. I wanted him to. I didn't want him to.

I do.

I want to be torn.

I want this.

He does it.

FUUUUUCKKK!

It's so fucking awful.

No words.

Sounds.

I am coming apart.

He's killing me.

It's a horrible noise. My body.

It's ripping apart.

Popping.

Cracking.

My body!

My shoulders have gone.

I can't look.

I can't breathe.

Just tiny gasps between shrieks.

It can't be this bad.

“Pl … please Mister, just kill me …”

I want to die now. To stop the pain. To complete this thing.

I am fucking crazy, but this is the end.

I want him to kill me. Anyway. Just now.

He turns it again.

It's not possible. To hurt more.

I hurt so terribly.

I am dying. He is killing me.

I can't believe that I can be in this position. In a dungeon in this fucking town. Me and Abi. Tortured to death because we want to be.

How can he do this to us?

He has a family. He has a job. How can he just kill us?

I want to die.

What will he do with us? Our fucked up bodies? How will he hide us? Someone will know...

How will he not tell his wife? How will he stay sane?

We're fucking insane. We wanted this.

He does something and pain floods back into all of me. So fucking awful. So fucking impossible.

“Th … thank you,”

He is going to kill me. And her.

I don't care. I wanted this. I still want this. It's the most perfect pain in the world. I wanted him to gut me. I wish he had. I will die with my arms torn off. I will day in such amazing agony. I am such a lucky pretty girl. I wish I could see myself here now. I bet I look so beautiful... He can kill me now. I'm grateful for everything. What about his wife? What about everything? I love Abi. I love my Sis. Fuck I want this. It hurts so fucking much. I want to die now. Slow. Pain. Perfect pain. Lovely pain. Kind killing me pain. Fuck. Fuck.

Just like this then? ...

Part 20 – The Girl

He's going to do it. I wanted him to. I didn't want him to.

I do.

I want to be torn.

I want this.

He does it.

FUUUUUCKKK!

It's so fucking awful.

No words.

Sounds.

I am coming apart.

He's killing me.

It's a horrible noise. My body.

It's ripping apart.

Popping.

Cracking.

My body!

My shoulders have gone.

I can't look.

I can't breathe.

Just tiny gasps between shrieks.

It can't be this bad.

“Pl … please Mister, just kill me …”

I want to die now. To stop the pain. To complete this thing.

I am fucking crazy, but this is the end.

I want him to kill me. Anyway. Just now.

He turns it again.

It's not possible. To hurt more.

I hurt so terribly.

I am dying. He is killing me.

I can't believe that I can be in this position. In a dungeon in this fucking town. Me and Abi. Tortured to death because we want to be.

How can he do this to us?

He has a family. He has a job. How can he just kill us?

I want to die.

What will he do with us? Our fucked up bodies? How will he hide us? Someone will know...

How will he not tell his wife? How will he stay sane?

We're fucking insane. We wanted this.

He does something and pain floods back into all of me. So fucking awful. So fucking impossible.

“Th … thank you,”

He is going to kill me. And her.

I don't care. I wanted this. I still want this. It's the most perfect pain in the world. I wanted him to gut me. I wish he had. I will die with my arms torn off. I will day in such amazing agony. I am such a lucky pretty girl. I wish I could see myself here now. I bet I look so beautiful... He can kill me now. I'm grateful for everything. What about his wife? What about everything? I love Abi. I love my Sis. Fuck I want this. It hurts so fucking much. I want to die now. Slow. Pain. Perfect pain. Lovely pain. Kind killing me pain. Fuck. Fuck.

Just like this then? ...

Part 21 – The Guy

Nurture or nature: What were we? What was I … was I a monster?

Everywhere I looked, I could see only shades of grey. Black and white were nothing more than lofty ideals in my mind, the standards by which I tried to judge things and map out my place in the world in relevance to them.

Good and evil, in their purest form, were as intangible and forever beyond my ability to hold in my hand, my mind incapable of being so subjective as to help me decide what I should or should not do.

I could only aim for them, aspire to them, and hope not to get so lost in the shadows of my desire that I could no longer see any sort of light.

I had been aiming for the right thing to do. Had it been so? Had I done the right thing? If so, the right thing by whom?

If I had misjudged then they could die, probably would die ... But, if they died, would that then make it the right thing anyway? Or would I have failed? Sometimes it was hard to know what the right thing to do was.

This was the confusion in my head as I sat on the dusty cell floor, my slut laid unconscious to my left and her friend and lover heaped in a semi-conscious pile to my right.

The breath from both girls sounded shallow, but I knew there was time still … time still to save them.

This had been a truly amazing evening. I know they actually ‘died’ in that hospital basement, but everything had seemed so much more controlled there and so much less raw than what had happened … was happening … here.

Fuck! I was so fucking erect! Achingly hard.

It was time to perform my duty-of-care to these two young students.

I moved off my ass and shuffled over to my Little Girl. Pausing to look down on her, I saw how beautiful she appeared, so serene in the midst of her agony.

I sighed. It was time to relocate her shoulder bones with their joints, but …

She looked so damn stunning …

I moved my fingers to her arms, readying to pull them upwards, out to her front. But, damn, there was something else …

My Little girl was so beautifully naked, cheeks stained with mascara tears and in her prostrate position her legs were opened, her pussy lips remained parted. The blood between them was dry, but still …

I placed her arm gently back onto the cell floor and stood. Toeing off my trainers, before unbuckling my green army jeans, I let them fall to the floor and then took I off my boxers. My cock flipped free, bobbing enthusiastically into the open air, looking for a place to rest. Such a place was right before me, laying unconscious on the floor.

I knelt down, cock in hand, jerking myself.

A short, quiet chuckle came from my throat as, bizarrely, I thought how what I was about to do would be sexual assault … she wasn’t awake and consent would be so clearly not given.

Fuck me, I was worried about sexual assault when I had done what I had done!

Fucking madman!

I opened her legs wider with my knees, and she simply did not stir. I was hard and ready, but she wasn’t wet. Moving my fingers to her slit and my thumb to her clit, I began to massage and moisten her.

“Hmmmmm, mmmmm,” I heard quiet moans emanate from the slut’s mouth as her unconscious state evolved to become only semi-conscious or semi-unconscious. I smiled as her body, despite how broken it was, responded and slowly but very surely, she became wet.

Positioning the swollen head of my cock I thrust into her, except she wasn’t fully stimulated and my thrust became more of a shove. But, penetrating fully, in I went and she grunted as I filled her.

I began to fuck the Little Girl, her dry walls acting as additional friction for my shaft as my juices began to immediately rise.

This wasn’t about performance; it wasn’t about satisfying the slut or asking ‘how good I was’ afterwards. This was about me and my hard-on.

I came.

Hard.

Copiously.

For quite some time.

Filling her.

She groaned. She had felt me inside her body for sure.

Afterwards, once I had pulled out leaving my seed flowing from her cunt, I stood and leaned against the wall to catch my breath and gather my thoughts.

Momentarily I knelt back by her shoulders and took her right arm. I pulled it perpendicular to her body and pushed down. The click was clear and it woke her from her slumber with a wide-eyed cry.

Then, with a further grunt, she collapsed again. Good. I could fix the other one now.

And so I did, causing the slut to repeat her performance, becoming briefly awake, but now she was laid unmoving once again.

I intended to take them both back to my house from here. We had until Monday and they would require aftercare. Despite being no longer dislocated my slut’s shoulders were red and swollen – she would require a sling and ice, but she would be okay. Well, except, that was, for the additional mental scars …

And she would need strong pain killers, but she wasn’t getting them just yet.

Those thoughts once more stirred my recently satiated loins.

“You just fucked her?” Red sounded accusatory as I moved across to the friend.

I nodded and smiled. She said nothing else about it and simply lay on her back letting me inspect the damage done to her sweet pussy.

It was bloody and crushed, red and swollen …

She gasped as I applied a cooling gel, infused with antiseptic and aloe vera, pushing it deep between her lips. I put some of the same gel onto the welts from the switch and then stood to look down upon the state of play.

“Here put this round your shoulders,” I said to Red, handing her a wrap-around blanket from my bag, and helping her to a sitting position.

“M … May I have one … pl … please Mister?” My slut was now conscious, and clearly in the worse condition of the two girls.

I laughed and shook my head. “No, you cannot. Your ordeal is far from over … we have a special chair waiting for you!”

Part 22 - The Girl

I'm cold. Cold.

Eyes opening. Closing.

I'm cold. I hurt. I'm not on my rack.

I'm cold.

Something.

In.

Me.

Something.

Oaaaaaahhh.... something.

Sounds.

I'm cold. I hurt. All of me hurts. Not on it. No. It's finished. Alive. I'm cold.

Something.

CLICK!

FUCK!

I'm cold.

CLICK!

FUUUUCKK!

I feel so terribly cold. I'm shivering cold. I'm.... What did he do? My shoulders? Before?

Abi says something. Eyes open. She's a mess. I'm a mess.

We're both alive still. I don't know why.

I'm cold.

“M … May I have one … pl … please Mister, a bl ... blanket?”

He looks at me.

He says no.

It's not over.

It's never over.

He is going to kill me. I know he is. Sometime. He is going to kill me. He can't stop himself.

My broken mess of a body is so lovely. He wants to destroy it. He wants to. He tries to stop himself, but I know he wants to.

I'm just so cold...

Part 23 – The Guy

My Little Girl was a Pain Slut, pure and simple. She thrived on pain, ‘got off’ on it and needed it to satisfy her lust. But when I announced to her that she couldn’t have the comfort of a blanket and that more torture awaited her, she broke down.

The sight of her on her knees, sobbing, hardly able to move her arms given the swollen joints around her shoulders, was stimulating indeed.

I wanted her.

I wanted to hurt her … very much.

Despite her distraught condition she didn’t dissent. Not one word of complaint came from her mouth. Red was a different matter however.

“You can’t do anything else to her. Look at her. She can hardly move her arms at all, and have you seen her back?”

Red had suffered too, and the switch marks and pussy crushing that she had experienced were bad enough, but the relative TLC that she was enjoying right now was clearly helping her pain to ease.And she was right about the slut’s back. The spikes on the rack were wooden and quite blunt, but they had gouged her skin, which had been rendered scratched, swollen and in certain places, bloody.

She was a beautiful mess, for sure. But I needed more from her.

“Get up Little Girl,” I growled with quiet menace, then stood back to watch as she struggled to leverage her body through the use of her arms and hands. I needed to assist and so I grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to her feet.

“Fuck, fuckkkk owwwww!” The savage nature of my grip prompted a response from her previously docile demeanour.

My nose flared and my breathing shallowed a little when my hands ran over the slut's body as I held her. Having feasted my eyes, and my touch, for long enough, I dragged her over to the chair.

It was a wonderful sight. The fearful piece of furniture was a study in man's twisted and perverted mind. Only the spawn of the devil could have devised an instrument such as this. Every inch of the chair was covered with spikes. The slivers of dark iron jutted up from the seat, from the back, from the arms and legs, and, although they had seen ‘sharper days’, they still appeared menacing.

The slut squirmed feebly in my grasp, her fight gone, her strength sapped by the agony of the racking.

Using her hair as a leash, I pulled the slut into position, towards the spikes.

I heard Red gasp … delicious.

My Little Girl still had a natural reticence inside her that was alive and well, trying to protect her, and she fought against being bound to the hellish device. Every muscle in her naked body corded in strain as I secured her wrists in the iron manacles connected to the arm of the chair, before padlocking them closed. Had she really reached her limit? Did I care?

I watched her writhing against the bindings. Her nude body was a taut bow as the spikes began to bite. Already little spots of blood appeared on her soft flesh. I finished the job swiftly, fastening each of her ankles to the chair's legs, spreading her thighs wide and exposing her cunt, lips parted ... blood from the blade dried in place, still dripping a little with my seed.

I stood back to examine my foul handiwork. Just enough slack had been left to allow my Little Girl to raise herself an inch or so. But the effort brought an intolerable strain to her broken body, and she would fall back heavily against the spikes. Every movement would bring new wounds - none severe enough to cause death, but the pain would have been indescribable.

As her exquisite cries were testimony to.

Still she could not stop trying to lift herself away from the spikes that tortured her. I stood twisting a thin switch in my hands, watching the slut's futile attempts to be free of the constant torture of the iron spikes, to which her body was tied so tightly.

Suddenly I lashed out, timing the strike to her body arching up from the chair of torment. The switch caught the slut around her naked waist, bringing new agony, and heightened tortuous cries.

Still she had not begged for it to stop, but a loud moan gurgled from her throat.

"The trick Red," I spoke to the friend, "… is to make her move on the spikes. The spikes will strip the skin from her body."

Red said nothing.

Once again, the slut rose in a tight arc trying to escape the hideous iron spikes. Her mouth was opened wide gasping for air and her eyes squeezed shut against the pain, so she never saw the switch fly at her breasts.

This time she screamed. The lash ripped into the top of her breasts and she shrieked out her agony.

Fuck this was turning me on, I was semi-stiff once more. I slashed viciously at the inside of her thigh and the slut screamed again. I raised my arm once more and brought the lash down on her inner thigh again.

This time my Little Girl screamed "Noooo! Fuckkkk noooo!" and when the switch cut into her belly, only an inch from her pussy, she shrieked "Stop! Stop! No more! No more!"

Her breasts rose and fell rapidly on her heaving rib cage. She could barely speak, only shake her head violently from side to side.

But, needless to say, the switching continued. My whippy lash cutting into her nipples and then slashing with great force between the lips of her cunt. In the throes of her agony, the slut couldn't control her writhing and squirming against the spikes of the torture chair, her shoulders now swollen and puffed up. The evil slivers of iron cut into the flesh of her naked body while the switch tore at her breasts and belly. Her screams had become a series of strident croaks. She could take no more, and fainted.

“Leave her now Mister, please. You really will kill her and you don’t want that … do you?”

I didn’t give Red the benefit of a reply, instead I broke an ammonia capsule under My Little Girl’s nose. Her head snapped back and she moaned, then begged for mercy.

"I have to pee," my Little Girl whined, gradually looking up at me through the curtain of her perspiration-soaked hair, staring out from within tear stained eyes.

I smiled at her, and shook my head. Coming close to the chair I knelt down in front of it.

"Please, Mister, I really have to go."

"You'll have to hold it slut. I'm not done," I replied.

From my accessories bag I pulled out a long thin wire. A remote on one end and a different, slightly larger, silver vibrating egg on the other end.

My Little Girl whimpered.

Kneeling between her thighs again I pushed her knees that bit wider on the chair and reached in to her pussy.

"Your fucking cunt is soaked, you whore," I said. Which wasn’t actually true, but she most definitely wasn’t dry.

The slut’s eyes were fluttering as my fingers traced her moistening folds. She jerked when I touched her clit, her muscle spasmed and I swear the tiniest squirt of urine came out.

"Mister, really, I have to gooooo."

"Shut up," I said once again.

I pushed the cool slick egg against her pussy. The touch made her moan. I twisted the remote on and pressed it, on highest speed, directly onto her clit.

My Little Girl thrashed and cried out. Blood was staining the wood and spikes upon which she sat, and marking her arms due to similar wounds there.

I knew that the vibe, switched to full-on speed, was too much and too quick. But … oh fuck! Her body tensed. More urine trickled. Her pussy spasmed. Oh man, she was going to cum! Her eyes widened, toes started to point.

I pulled the egg from her clit, pushed it at her entrance and popped it inside her pussy. The slut grunted softly, the cadence of her impending orgasm interrupted … put momentarily on hold.

I watched as she twisted against the vibe, twisting in the chair as if trying to escape the egg. I let go of the remote, letting the connecting wire dangle off the chair seat and I stepped back.

She looked fucking beautiful!

The slut’s body was lurching. Her hips were thrashing this way and that, bucking at the egg. I could see the iron spikes dragging against her skin … so many tormented sensations.

I could tell from the tensing of her thighs that she wanted the orgasm, and she wanted to piss. She definitely wanted out of the chair.

“She’s really gonna cum now Mister,” Red was offering her observations from her seat on the floor. “See how her core is tightened …”

Red was spot on, as the slut’s moans became louder, and the jolts hit her. She shook violently, cumming, soaking the chair even further in the erotic amalgam of her juices and her blood.

"Oh, ohhhh, Goddddddddd please HELP MEEEEEEE," she cried out His name, in what I think was a genuine appeal to our higher power. Her back was arched in a deep curve as the sensation took her higher and higher, way beyond caring about the impact of the spikes.

The slut came hard, and then she jerked back, sinking ... melting into the seat.

The egg still hummed inside her noisily. I nodded and looked at her flame-haired friend.

“Come with me Red,” I said, making as if to take the friend out of the interrogation cell.

"Mister!!!" the slut yelled in delightful alarm.

“Kiss her goodbye, tell her you’re going to suck me off in the other cell, and that we will be a while.” I grinned at Red, who, in turn looked back at me, with more than a little reticence in her eyes.

I simply nodded at her.

Standing, slowly, the aches in her own body once more becoming evident, she moved to the chair. Placing her hand gently on the slut’s cheek, Red turned her head and leaned in. Their lips brushed, then Red kissed my Little Girl. For her part, the slut was way beyond being able to respond, but that didn’t stop Red from increasing the intensity of the embrace.

“We’re going now honey …” she spoke softly and my Little Girl just whimpered.

Red looked up at me before continuing, “We’re going to …” she paused, “… to … well, I’m gonna suck him, and we might be a while …”

“Good girl,” I said, holding out my hand for Red to take.

"Don't leave me! Please. I'll do anything. Don't leave me." The slut’s pathetic whines were the last thing that Red and I heard as we pulled the dark cell’s door closed, leaving the slut alone and at the mercy of the vibe and the spiked chair.

Part 24 – The Girl

There is no safe word. I never asked him for one. I didn't need one.

Because I don't want to be safe.

I want to be unsafe.

I want him to do what he wants to me.

He could push a spike through my tits (he's done that, but I mean a big, iron spike).

He could open me with a knife.

He could tear me apart with a knout.

He could chain me to a stake and burn me alive.

He can do what he likes.

I don't know why he likes this stuff. I don't care why he likes this stuff.

I don't care anymore how long he keeps me. Whether he lets me go home tomorrow (is it tomorrow yet?).

I don't care if I never go home.

I didn't know I was so selfish. I am. And I don't care.

My body is hurting so much. Against this wall. Naked. Cold. My shoulders are in agony. My back, my legs, the places where he tied me and fixed me with irons.

The pain is awful. I don't like the pain. I hate the pain. All of it. It's not sweet pretty pain. It's black, evil, terrible pain. When I scream it's because it's just so terribly indescribably awful. Hateful, selfish pain that doesn't think and doesn't care and comes suddenly or slowly and just possesses me. My body. Owns my body that isn't mine anymore and isn't Abi's and isn't his and just belongs to the pain.

But I want it so much.

I can't understand it. Why would I want this pain?

Why would I? Selfish pain. Cruel pain.

But I do. I want it. I hate it and I need it and it's the best thing ever and I want it so much and I will let him do anything he wants if he gives it to me.

He can fuck me, he can kiss me. I don't care. I don't. I will let him fuck me and kiss me and force himself up my arse or into my mouth or anything he wants as long as he carries on hurting me.

Because it's so fucking good to hurt.

He lifts me up and dumps me on the chair that's always been there waiting for me. Full of iron spikes. A witches' chair. And it hurts. And I moan and I am so fucking grateful because I know that these spikes can rip my body that's already screaming at me to stop and when I scream to stop, and I will, he knows that it's that other bit of me that is so fucking scared of pain and of being broken and of dying and all that shit and that's not the me that is really me and he knows he can just carry on. He knows which me to listen to. The me that isn't crying or pleading. He knows that it's the me that's gasping for breath, trying to carry me over the pain to the next pain and the next one.

I need to piss. I know he won't let me.

I know he'll taunt me with the egg that he's already pushing into me. So he can send me to some fucking amazing place that will lift me and slam me back into the spikes and cut me and make me bleed. And my body will have it's flesh torn and fuck knows how he can ever make me better. But I think he can and he wants to keep doing this and he'll let us go and he'll let us come back and he'll find some new ways to hurt us until he gets bored or his wife finds out or some guy with a key to a secret room asks him for too much money or the police find us naked and dead in some dank Yorkshire wood and....

"Oh, ohhhh, Goddddddddd please HELP MEEEEEEE,"

FUUUCKKK! It's so fucking awful. My body!

He's taking her. He's taking her to use her.

I fucking love her.

I fucking hurt so fucking much! I want it all to stop!

"Don't leave me! Please. I'll do anything. Don't leave me."

He knows. He ignores me. He takes her. To use her. I love her. I love this. I don't care what he does to me.

I don't care.

Part 25 – The Guy

She slowly turned to me, and smiled sweetly. I melted into her brown eyes that looked like they'd been dipped into caramel.

“What happens now?” Red asked.

“This,” I replied, pulling her to me, kissing her tenderly. Our tongues danced around each other and she kissed me back, not with the forced demeanour of a whore, but with genuine desire, or so I wanted to believe.

I ran my hands down her back, up and underneath the loose blanket still draped around her shoulders, before using my nails to lightly scratch down her spine, over the welts from the whip. Red squirmed, and shuddered in my arms, pulling her face away from mine.

“No, I mean after today, or even before today ends?”

I cocked my head and looked quizzically at her.

“Not sure I understand?” Feeling her questions to be a little audacious, I looked her in the eye.

“You will kill her, you know that Mister, right?”

I smiled. “You say I will kill her, what about you?”

She smirked right back at me. “You might kill me too, but if you do it will be to keep me quiet, and not through what you do to me. You don’t want to hurt me badly enough, not like you do to … her … your Little Girl.”

I pulled Red’s mouth back to mine and kissed her hard, biting down on her already swollen lips, so that she yelped and pulled back.

“Bastard,” she whispered, a small trickle of blood oozing over her chin.

I took her hands and wrapped them around my neck, and then I carried on kissing her, mopping up the blood with my tongue. Her arms safely out of the way, I took the opportunity to let my hands do some wandering of their own.

Slipping them down Red’s back and onto the curves of her ass. I felt her push back into my grasp, I gave her a firm pinch on both cheeks and moved my hands again, in between her ass cheeks, seeking out her small hole, enjoying how she squirmed

Her ass was smooth, firm and heavenly to touch, and it was taking all my willpower to stop from throwing her onto the floor, tearing the blanket away and eating her pussy, there and then.

But her pussy was out of bounds … for now.

“Does it hurt?” I said to her.

Her smirk became a laugh. “You mean my crushed pussy, and clamped clit, that you just almost tore in two? Yeah Mister, it fucking hurts, like nothing I’ve ever felt before …”

And then more quietly, she added, “Are you going to fuck me?”

I slowly shook my head, “No Red, I need you to heal, and so …”

She nodded and actually murmured, “Thank you,” in response.

I moved my mouth to her ear, brushing her hair from her face and then whispered menacingly, “Now get down onto your fucking knees and do your job.”

******

It was quite some time before we returned to the scene in the interrogation cell. Red had done as I asked, and I had let her blow me to the point of orgasm, whereupon I had pulled away to let my impending climax dissipate, before I had taken control, grabbed her by the hair, and fucked her throat, making her gag until I had pressed her face to my abdomen and cum long and hard deep inside her mouth.

The vignette that faced us upon our return, was, I think, the most erotic I have ever seen, and I include the vision of my Little Girl Crucified in the woods in that statement.

She was clearly ‘out of it’. I could smell her piss, the residue of which was still flowing from between her thighs, out over the spiked surface of the chair to drip and pool on the floor between her feet.

Suddenly her comatose form was rendered animate once more as another orgasm flushed through her body, making her writhe and squirm anew, scraping and dragging her skin across the iron yet again.

I moved to my bag to retrieve a medium sized bottle of water.

“Slut,” I said with a grin.

My Little Girl looked up at me and licked her parched lips, practically drooling for the water.

I handed the bottle to Red, and said, “Drink.”

Despite the look of intense sympathy cast the way of my slut, her lover, she did as I asked, her own thirsting need too much to resist. I then took the bottle away from her and drank the remainder myself.

“That’s better,” I sighed, and then moved back to the bag to pull out another, larger water bottle.

I leaned down for the remote and twisted the power off, a movement on my part that led to a sigh filled with great relief on the part of my Little Girl.

She began to piss again.

“Fuck, you dirty whore!” I laughed at her, turning to look at Red just in time to see her own face screw up.

I chuckled. "Problem?"

"I told you I f … f … fucking n … needed to pee. And I hurt so much. And I want you to let me go …"

More sighs and a squirm or two allowed the remainder of the pent-up urine to free-flow from her body, over the chair and onto the floor.

Then …

“Fuckkkkkkkkkk!”

The slut cried out, frantically blinking her eyes as I released the bottle of cold water over her head and face, so that it gushed down over her breasts, and all over the chair, pooling, like the piss, on the floor between her feet.

Her nipples were rigid. The hairs on her body stood on end. Goosebumps rippled her skin. She was still gasping. And then she started to shiver. Violently. Her lips shaking.

"Wh … w … why did you d-d-d-do that??" she cried.

"To shut you up," I said, matter-of-factly, my eyes raking over her body. I squatted in front of the chair, tilting my head so that my eyes could devour her pussy. The water, pee and bodily-juice glistened along her smooth lips, having long since washed away the dried blood.

I reached in with two fingers and slid them along the slut’s labia lips, making her jerk and groan at the pain her movement caused. I pulled one outer lip to the side to look inside her pulsing slit.

A soft smile played on my face as my finger stroked over her, dipping inside. Despite her awful predicament, my Little Girl’s eyes were rolling back into her head as I played with her. A second finger pushed inside her, stretching her open, prying at the soft slick pillows inside her pussy, pushing at the walls, examining every inner inch.

My thumb swept up and softly flicked at her clit. The slut’s knees jerked wide and her hips came forward hard to push into my fingers, she clearly couldn’t help herself. I allowed it, just smiling, watching her as I slowly, meticulously strummed her clit and fingered her pussy.

Although the iron shards were scraping viciously into her skin, my Little Girl was rolling her hips languidly, her head leaning back to arch her glorious breasts up into the air.

Then she jerked her head back with a grimace as my free hand grabbed onto a nipple furiously tight and was twisting it. Her body writhed, as she clearly tried to follow the pinching fingers and the fucking fingers at once for different reasons.

I started to pinch and pull at the nipple in rhythm with the clit rolling and my thrusting fingers until I was able to send her over the edge yet again into a long, deep orgasm. She shook and shattered in the chair, squirting out her climax, soaking my hand, yelling out her pleasure and her pain, climbing high until she was dropped from that great, agony-numbing height and my slut jolted into a weak limp form on the chair.

Her face glistening from tears and snot, my Little Girl jerked her head up and looked down at my hand anxiously.

I smiled at her, and pulling my fingers free, I stood back to reflect on a job well done!

Part 26 – The Girl

It's more, it's more, it's always more.

My dim eyes, drowning in tears.

Slow, cruel pain. My little death.

Pain. My body. Tortured slowly to death.

Always more.

Back.

She's back. With him. He's been in her, her in him. Them.

But I love her.

And I want to be with her. And I want to stop this now. For now.

I'm full inside. I can't hold it longer.

I feel my piss pouring out of me. Warm over my cold hurting legs.

"I told you I f … f … fucking n … needed to pee. And I hurt so much. And I want you to let me go …"

“Fuckkkkkkkkkk!”

He's drowning me! It's fucking cold! I'm fucking freezing! My poor hurting body!

"Wh … w … why did you d-d-d-do that??"

My poor hurting body.

His fingers. Inside. My cunt. Not gently. FUUUCCK!

Every movement I move. Every movement tearing me on this iron torture chair. Every movement doubling my pain, my body at once thrilled and hurting and wanting him to stop and to do more. Every touch on me.

On my body. I can't stop. FUUUCKKKK! On my nipples. I want it.

Harder!

I want to stop. I want to have more. I want!

His fingers!

FUUUUCKKK!

I can't stop.

Everywhere!

I can't fucking stop!

My fucking body!

My fucking body!

FUUUUCKKKK!!!!

Part 27 – The Guy

“Fuck, fuck … fuck,” I was covered in blood.

“Sit here, please and don’t move, I will be back to you … soon.”

I moved out of the small spare room and had to stop on the landing to gather my thoughts.

“Fuck!” I muttered again under my breath, and then placed my palm against the door frame for support. I took a moment and allowed my breathing to regulate. I shouldn’t be feeling like this. I had taking both of these girls to death and beyond already, so just because …

“Fuck …” I repeated the profanity.

Taking a deep breath, I entered the larger spare room, it was a large house and so the five bedrooms offered plenty of spare. It was in this larger room that my Little Girl lay unmoving, still naked on the bed, with her fucking blood everywhere!

Fuck! Calm down … calm the fuck down.

I didn’t want her to die. I know what I did to her, and I want to keep doing that to her, I love her so damn much.

“Oh, fuck my sweet, darling Little Girl … don’t die on me, not now, please.”

But she didn’t stir.

******

Unfastening the padlocks around her wrists the slut slumped forward. After that last orgasm, the squirt, she had lost consciousness once more. I took her right wrist and lifted it carefully away from the chair. She was scratched and grazed, welted and marked, but the wounds looked relatively superficial. I then repeated the motion with her left wrist, but it didn’t lift, not easily. It was stuck.

Furrowing my brow, I moved my position slightly so that I could get a better view.

“Is she okay Mister?” Red spoke up from her now seated again position.

“Give me a minute Red … please.” I snapped back, though it was kind of obvious that she was far from okay.

Gingerly I gripped her wrist and pulled gently. And then the spurt started. An iron shard, one that was most evidently sharper than the others, had embedded itself into her wrist, not just the wrists, but the damn junction of the ulnar and radial arteries! Releasing the shard had punctured her body and she was fucking well bleeding out!

“Shit, fuck Red get me your panties from over there, come on quick.” I pointed at the spot where her underwear lay discarded.

I grabbed the thin, skimpy material and tied it tight around her upper arm. Not contemporary medical practice I know, but effective none-the-less.

“Bag, now Red. Reach the bag to me, quickly.”

Red had gone into ‘nurse mode’ and was helping all she could. Neither of us spoke while I took out a bandage and, after sealing the puncture with antiseptic infused lint, pressed it hard onto the deep puncture hole.

I looked down at the floor. The slut had already lost quite a lot of blood just in the minute or so it took for me to bind her. On top of the physical shock she had incurred over the past few hours, she was in bad shape.

I eased my Little Girl away from the chair. No more deep punctures, but lots of scratches and cuts and more gore, though not thick, life-blood thank goodness. But my clothes and the chair-device were covered in blood! As was the floor around it. I would need to message my contact and ask him to do the best he could to clean things for me …

Fuck!

She needed a hospital but she was going to get me and my home instead. A hospital was far too risky. She would understand, my slut, after all she wanted this as much as I did … right?

With Red partially dressed again and the slut wrapped in a shock blanket and wearing nothing else, I had brought the car almost to the door.

Even in the City Centre, it was easy to get away unseen from this place in the early hours and less than 45 minutes from peeling her off the torture chair, my Little Girl was laid on the spare double bed, one of them, at my house.

I had a large driveway and electric gates, and so privacy was not the issue. The issue was the blood on my clothes and now coating the duvet cover.

But that could wait. The priority was attending to the slut, my slut … my lovely, gorgeous, sweet slut that I loved so damn much!

The bleeding seemed to have stopped and the bandage was still in place. The bedclothes were beyond repair, which in a way was a good thing. I would just need to replace them when they left.

When they left? Was this Little Girl really going to walk out of here in 24 hours?

I hoped so, but looking at her right now, walking anywhere, anytime soon seemed a tall order.

I flipped her over and she grunted. Her damaged arms and shoulders flopped as she was twisted, at least there was still life there

Fuck. Her back, ass and legs. What a mess! A beautiful mess though and even at this desperate time I began to feel my desire rising as I ogled her beaten nudity.

“Mister …” I heard Red shout, “How is she? Can I come and see?”

“No, please Red, just stay where you are … for now. I will come to you soon.”

With a sigh I pulled my gaze away from the slut’s body and stocked the room with antiseptic wipes and hot water, before settling down to meticulously clean each cut and scratch … infection was our worst enemy here and I was determined that she wouldn’t get any …

Part 28 – The Guy (Again)

The house was quiet, and so why was my brain thundering around my head?

Red was sleeping in one of the small spare rooms. I had reapplied the antiseptic gel between her legs and balm to the welts. There was little blood on her body and providing I changed the sheets before my wife got home all should be well.

But my Little Girl was a different story. I closed my eyes and let my head fall into my hands. I loved her, really … I thought about her when she wasn’t with me, I visualised being with her wherever I was. The store, the garage, at work, at home, out for a meal … everywhere.

I couldn’t be without her. My throat choked and I had to swallow back my emotion.

I recalled her laughing at me as we shopped for her new dress and then closing her eyes at the dinner table to savour the taste of the food. I sighed as I thought about how we made love afterwards … it was perfect. What we did in the dungeons and the woods was just a pastime, wasn’t it? That’s all … we both had lives outside of this awful torture and if we could live them together then it would make me a happy man …

But if it was just a pastime how come the consequences were so serious? It was more than just that, it had to be.

And now here we were. She was laying as still as death in the large spare double room.

Fuck!

I stood and moved to the window in the main bedroom. The sun was just beginning to come up on this February Sunday morning, a bright morning-to-be by the looks of it.

I rested my forehead against the cold glass. “Think man, think …” I quietly admonished myself.

She had lost lots of blood in the cell at Bridewell Prison, but in truth how much, really? The puncture wound was only open a minute at the most and by my reckoning that might have meant a litre or so of blood escaped, maybe a little more … or maybe not quite that much. The slice in her skin was deep but small and … fuck it, anything around a litre plus or minus a little more is fine. Well, when I say fine, it’s not fatal. If my Little Girl has lost say, 10-15% of her blood then she will make that back up.

I began to feel a little more positive, but then recalled everything else. The smaller wounds, the cuts and her dislocated shoulders. Her poor body had taken too much in the past few hours, and on top of everything else I had whipped her and made her orgasm over and over …

But that’s what she wanted, right? She lived for pain and pleasure through that pain … I was only serving her fantasies.

Stop finding excuses man, and face up to the situation! I had to have a stern word with myself. I needed to be strong for myself and these two lovely girls.

I wandered back into where the slut was unconscious. Her body had been cleaned and dressed where needed and I had stitched the wrist wound. Her arms were splinted to her sides by a bandage tie around the waist, and I had packed ice around both of her shoulders.

But fuck, she still looked so lovely.

I moved again this time to sit by her side on the bed. Gently I stroked her hair from her face and leaned in to place a soft kiss on her lips. She remained naked, but I had pulled the cover over her now, and the way her breathing seemed less shallow, more regulated suggested to me that her unconscious state might in fact have become more of a sleeping one.

I gently stroked her cheek, and, glory be, her eyes flickered open. Then they closed again, but it was enough. She was with me … she would be okay.

I took a saline drip beg from the fridge (I had put several in before leaving at the outset) and set it up via a canular into the Little Girl’s arm.

She could rest now, I could leave her.

It was time to visit Red and see how she was doing.

******

“Wake up,” the words came again.

“Wake up, Mister …”

Slowly my eyes opened and I took a deep breath. I had fallen asleep in the chair for … how long? I had no idea, but Red, dressed in one of my old shirts, and that was all she wore, was gently shaking my arm.

“Wh … what, is she … are you … what …” I was struggling to be coherent as I came round.

Red nodded, “I’m fine Mister, well as fine as … you know what I mean, and …” Red paused just stopping herself in time from saying her young lover’s name. Despite everything we had shared, the three of us, still no names.

“… she’s awake too, your Little Girl.”

I smiled, stood and stretched. “Come on then …”

“We headed to ‘her’ room, and there she was, eyes open looking back at us … at me.”

I moved to her while Red stood at the end of the bed.

“How are you feeling? I’m so sorry … I …”

The slut looked at me and smiled a weak smile. “Don’t be sorry, it’s what I wanted, I wanted it so much. Thank you, and I’m still here …”

“… Just.” I ended her sentence for her. She smiled and I smiled back.

“Do I need to keep my arms like this, is it some new ‘game’?” She grinned at me.

“No, not if you can sit up. But they do both need to be in a sling just for today while the tendons and muscle around the bone joint settles back down. They will be sore for a while though.”

She nodded, “I can live with that Mister,” she whispered.

Part 29 – The Girl

Slowly I am seeing again. I'm in a bed, comfy. But I am hurting everywhere. And I'm so fucking tired.

I don't know where I am.

It's a nice room. Large, clean. A TV on the wall. Lovely curtains...

Abi smiles at me, kisses me.

'Are you alright love?'

'Not really. I don't feel too great to be honest...'

'Do you know what happened?'

'Well, he racked me and fucked me with that thing on the spiky chair and...'

'You almost died you daft girl! You somehow managed to puncture a vein or something. There was blood everywhere! You almost fucking died!'

I smile. 'I didn't though, did I? I'm still here with you aren't I?'

She smiles. Kisses me.

And goes.

And he comes in. He looks scared and exhausted.

He asks how I am. I mean, look at me, I'm thinking! You've almost tortured me to death! He says sorry... How stupid is that?

“Don’t be sorry, it’s what I wanted, I wanted it so much. Thank you, and I’m still here …”

I mean it. I wanted it so much. The rack, my dislocated shoulders, the spikes, the pain. The fucking amazing pain. It was just what I wanted. And I'm alive so that means I can do it again. I know he wants to do it all again. Or something worse. Maybe. Maybe that's what I want, I think to myself. Maybe I really do want him to gut me and debreast me like I asked him to. Maybe I want him to slice me to pieces. Maybe. Very maybe...

I say something else to him. I grin. I want him to know it's ok. I want him to know it's ok to make me better and to hurt me again.

I feel so sore so everywhere. I hurt everywhere. But it's great. I am so fucking content. I feel so fucking wonderful. Here, hurting, in this nice lovely room with the big TV screen and the curtains and him and Abi looking at me. I'm a nutter, I know that. A selfish crazy girl with one thing on my mind. Two really. Abi and getting hurt. And I want them both so much...

He tells me I can sit up with a sling and that I'll be sore...

“I can live with that Mister,” I whisper to him...

Yeah, I can live with that. I can live with that and I want to be better soon and then I can be with her and he can hurt me again and I am so fucking happy about everything in my weird fucked up life. And if it's short, so fucking what? I don't care if I can have my two loves. Her and my pain. I want him to hurt me again. Already. That's what I know I want. I guess I wasn't sure. I am now. Her and hurting. It's everything. It's all I have ever wanted... I can live with that, I think to myself...

Part 30 – The Guy

“Hey honey …”

“It’s his wife …” I heard Red say in tones that were not as quiet as they should have been.

As I put the hand-set to my ear I moved my finger to my mouth.

It was great to see the girls in a relatively playful mood, especially given what they had been through, but not at the risk of exposing our tryst to my wife, who was now calling me.

“Hiiiii honeyyyyyyy …” Red mimicked, and my Little Girl laughed.

“Is someone there with you?”

“What? No dear, of course not, let me just turn the TV down so I can hear you properly.”

I mocked a glare at the girls and moved out of the large spare room.

“How are you my darling?” I asked, trying my best not to appear too effusive.

“Fine dear,” she replied, I did so enjoy myself in the shop on Saturday, and my sister’s exams went well, she passed with flying colours.”

“Oh, that’s great. So, she knows the outcome already?”

“Yes, the tests were online, but they had to be done under proper conditions at a hall in the Town Centre.”

“Great so you’re heading home?” It was a question.

“Tomorrow darling like I said, but I want to go into the shop first thing with her to hand everything back over. So, it will be early evening when I’m home, is that okay.”

Yes, yes, yes, yes …

“That’s fine hon. If you try and text me when you set off I will plan the evening meal to welcome you home.”

“That sounds perfect darling. See you soon. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The call ended. Phew.

Sliding the handset into my pocket I returned to the room prepared to admonish the girls. I found them both on the bed and Red too was now naked.

“Girls?” I said with a slight incline of my head.

I look at each girl in turn and we exchange smiles. Then, their eyes move to my groin.

“What?” I say.

“We think you owe us Mister.” Red smirks.

“Oh really,” I responded, sensing the playful eroticism that is pervading the room.

“Yep, we want you to wank for us. Here and now. We’re too hurt to do anything for you, so it’s all up to you, right?” She turns to my slut, who is now sitting up, her arms in a double sling, and she nods.

“Right,” she agrees.

I laugh, but I’m so up for this.

“Okay but you take it out for me Red.”

“No way Mister, it’s all on you. We’re not moving.”

I saw Red’s fingers stroking just above her bare mound, near to the healing flesh of her clitoris. Fuck they are both so beautiful. I am already hard.

Without moving my eyes, I unbuckle the belt on my Army style jeans and pull down the zipper. Letting them fall I kick the jeans away.

“Everything Mister … off.” Red is clearly enjoying the Domme role … it gives me an insight into how things might play out between them both when they’re alone.

I nod and pull the tee shirt over my head.

“Boxers and socks.”

Another nod from me and I wind down the boxers allowing my already stiffening cock to spring free. Leaning against the wall with one hand, I pull off my socks with the other. And there I am, totally naked.

“Not bad … for an old guy,” Red grins, and my slut giggles.

I take two long, slow, deep breaths and reach my hand toward my cock and wrap my fingers around the base and squeeze, pressing the hot shaft into my palm. The head and three inches of erection extend above my fist. As my grip tightens, the head turns a darker colour, the mushroom shape swells and glosses over smooth, the veins standing out in relief from the rigid column.

They both exhale in unison … and how exquisite is that!

I let out a low deep sigh and bend my engorged prick into my grip, letting the girls see it clearly through my hold. Then I slide my hand slowly up the length and down again and repeat, which makes me moan out loud. Through half closed lids, I notice Red change to sitting crossed legged, Indian-style and leaning in closer.

This gives me a great view between her legs, her soft inner thighs, and her labia, still red and a little puffy, but beautiful nonetheless.

I continued to stroke my cock, settling into a nice steady rhythm and I glanced over at my slut who is still sitting straight up against the raised pillows, arms hanging at her sides. She looks transfixed, her chest and ribs heaving with her exaggerated breathing. Most noticeably, her distended nipples are stiff and hard.

“Are you enjoying the show girls?” I say with a lust infused whisper, and I smile to myself as I proceed, all the while maintaining my slow steady pumping up and down my shaft.

“Shut the fuck up and wank,” Red says, with just a slight choke to her assertive tone.

“You want me to fucking cum for you huh? To shoot my load just for you both to see?” I groaned out the words and the girls burst out in slightly nervous laughter at my quick switch to graphic language.

Eying my cock, My Little Girl giggles, and my hand resumes it's stroking.

I stop speaking and let my hand and cock do the talking. I stroke slightly harder and faster for a time, and the head swells even more, and turns a shade more dark, whereupon I hear my own breathing becoming more shallow and ragged. There is no one knows how best to jerk my cock than me, myself and I!

"Mmmmmm..." I hear a soft moan from one of the girls. Fuck I love that!

Surprisingly, it comes from Red, who has her hands folded across her lap as if trying to press them against her mound without being obvious about it. Her thick nipples are hard, a single raised welt crossing the left one, that still looks sore.

Fuck yes! I must be turning her on … me, a 58-year-old guy, wanking his old-man’s cock and I'm really turning her on. She actually wants to touch her pussy. I feel a new tingling in my balls and I immediately slow my stroking and let my breathing return to normal.

This is getting pretty intense for me already and so I release my grip and lean back against the painted wall, taking several long, deep breathes. The girls' gaze remains on my erection, now standing tall between my spread thighs. They were both breathing rapidly themselves … fucking wonderful!

With my self control regained, my balls slacken and again hang low and heavy, pendulous in their sack, making my cock look that much longer. My fingers once more wrap themselves around the base of my shaft and slowly slide up the engorged length.

"Aaaahh!" I breathe a heavy open-mouthed sigh of pleasure, my head tilted back, my eyes closed in reverie. I use my wedding ring to nestle under the flare of my cockhead, the friction stimulating me just where stimulation is needed.

Suddenly I hear My Little Girl whisper excitedly, "Fuck, he’s gonna cum!"

Looking quickly at her, she's leaning forward, eyes riveted on my swollen glans. I glance down and see a big clear droplet of pre-cum has seeped out and is sitting atop my prick tip.

“Cum for us Mister,” Red smirks at me, her own fingers now lightly brushing her mound.

I can't help it, but I laugh out loud, amused by their delightful girlish enthusiasm.

Then I look over my Little Girl. "What do you think, slut? Your pretty friend can hardly wait to see me shoot a big, thick load. She really wants to see me cum."

The slut smiles at my teasing, then she sort of pouts and softly says, "Me too."

Another measure of pre-cum bubbles out and collects at the tip of my cock.

I nod, and then squeeze my cock repeatedly, working from base to tip, milking drop after drop of pre-cum up its length and out through the slit. When enough has collected, I rise to my feet and point my shaft towards the floor. The big droplet of pre-cum falls away from my cockhead as if in slow motion and descends like clear syrup.

"Fuck yes, go for it, Mister!" I hear the girls say, and I am so tempted to commandeer a mouth the collect my load in, but I know this is not about me, for a change, it’s all about them, and they more than deserve to pull the strings here.

The pre-cum hangs a few moments like a pearl on a string Then, to my utter surprise, Red extends her hand beneath the drop and catches it in her palm as it detaches from its source. She stares closely at the droplet of cock juice in her hand, then touches it with her finger and smears it around on her palm.

"I love how slippery this,” she purrs, and she holds out her hand towards my Little Girl, just as gravity pulls another honey-thick drop away from the end of my cock.

"It's all yours, Red. Don't let it go to waste." I grin, and as if to order Red licks her own palm clean and dry.

Fuck! So damn erotic.

I sit my ass back down on the edge of the window ledge and rub the rest of my pre-cum over the plump head of my dick, then resume stroking.

"You two having a good time?" I say with a big smile.

Both girls giggle and vigorously nod their heads ... and in that moment they both seem so fucking young.

My hand is pumping in earnest now, and I begin my final ascent toward orgasm.

"You looked so fucking hot in that dungeon …” I was talking my way to a climax now, helping the images in my mind’s eye.

“You liked to see us tied and chained and fucked and bleeding huh?” Red helped me along.

“Fuck yeah,” I responded.

My hand pumps hard up and down the length of my lust-filled dick. I'm nearly breathless now.

"You can touch yourselves if you want, girls...you can play with yourselves! I'd play with you if I could! Ahhh! I'd love to touch your soft sexy skin...I'd love to feel your tits with my hands, My Little Girl ... oh, fuck, I'd love to suck your stiff nipples, Red!"

My grip tightened and my wrists worked faster.

"I'd like to lash your fit, young bodies all over, ohhhh fuck, mmm, and impale your swollen pussies!"

Faster and harder now.

"I could do that and you could wrap your little hands around my cock and wank me off! The two of you could jerk me off together! Fuck! That would feel soooooo fucking gooood!"

I feel that unmistakable tingle in my loins. That feeling of impending ejaculation. I'm panting furiously. I'm leaning back on one hand and aiming my cock out in front of me, legs splayed wide, balls bouncing wildly with the pounding of my hand up and down my shaft.

"Ready girls? Are you ready to see me cum? Ugh! Ugh! I love having you watch me! Ugh! Fuck! You sexy little pain sluits! Ahh! I'm gonna cum for you! Ahhhhh fuckkkkk! You're gonna make me ... ugh! I'm gonna ... ugh ... I'm ... ugh! I'M CUMMING!!! WATCH ME FUCKING CUMMM!!!

A wave of seed rushes up my shaft from my balls and jets out of my swollen head. My balls implode and the first shot arches up about a foot into the air and falls to spread on the wooden floor.

My Little Girl and Red sit wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

An instant later a massive ribbon of cum spurts from my bloated erection, followed by a cluster of thick, white drops shooting out just as far. I give my cock two or three quick pumps and three more thick wads spray out about half as far as the ones before.

I'm grunting and groaning from the exquisite pleasure concentrated in my cock and balls. Cum oozes from the slit and rolls down the shaft and over my fingers. Two more bolts of sperm launch themselves in turn and momentarily hang suspended in the air before dropping and splashing on the floor.

My cock pulses as my orgasm finally subsides but still pumps out more slimy sperm. It rolls out and drips from the purple head in long stringy strands.

I let go of my softening erection and lean back on my hands gradually catching my breath. My still thick and swollen cock, much softer now, hangs twitching between my spread legs, a pearly string of cum dangling from the tip.

My audience has been strangely silent throughout my volcanic climax. At last, My Little Girl finds her voice.

“Fucking hell Mister, that was awesome!”

Part 31 – The Girl

“Fucking hell Mister, that was awesome!”

Well, he'd like to hear me say that, wouldn't he?

On the phone to his looovelly wifey... I wonder what she'd say?

Two babes, all cut-up and bruised and bandaged... in her oh-so-immaculate house?

And him.

Naked.

Cos we told him to get naked. And he fucking did.

I look at Abi - he calls her Red - doh! Just coz she's got red hair. 'Red'... What a laugh.

And me his lah-di-dah Little Girl... So how fucking little am I?

Little Red Riding Hood lost in the forest with the big bad wolf?

Nah.

I ain't some little girl, not really. I might be small, but that really isn't the same. I'm not some fucking Lolita...

I just wonder what his wife things he does when she's away.

But we know.

He gets out his cock and stares at us two in his lovely house and wanks himself to heaven and back.

Coz we're so fucking lovely and he's so fucking lucky.

How many old guys get to torture two willing, amazing, bi-babes and take them home and wank over them?

Not many I think.

And here he is. And we touch ourselves up (well, I am a bit restricted at the moment, but Abi does... very sweetly). And he gasps and pulses himself and dribbles and BANG! Away he goes! Another mess for him to clean up. And wow, he's got a lot of mess to clean up before Mrs whoever comes back to give hubby a lovely kiss and drink a glass of Pinot with him. Fuck them I'm thinking. If only she fucking knew. What a fuck-up that would be....

But it has been awesome. Really. Getting us to that dungeon, fucking us over so wonderfully painfully gorgeously cruelly. So fucking hurting brilliant. So fucking amazing. It's a long way from that woods with my ex. A fucking long way. And I fucking love it. And he's made us fucking mad and I think, just a little bit, that we've made him fucking mad too. And there's no escape for him now. He's stuck with us. I really think he does love us. And we sort of like him a bit too, coz where else will we get such a good, clever torturer than we have here in shitty Leeds? We sort of need each other. Too much. And no good can ever come of it. It's us and him and we none of us know where the fuck to stop...

It was fucking awesome. The whole fucking lot. Fucking awesome. Fucking amazing. And I still fucking hurt and I love it so fucking much...

Part 32 – The Guy

Standing outside the spare double room, inside which both girls now resided, I leaned against the staircase landing banister. The girls were still naked, but I had put my boxers back on. I closed my eyes and had a quiet chuckle to myself. I had wanked for them … they had asked and I had obeyed.

Fuck … I had to admit that it had felt good. So damn good, to cum for them, in front of them and see their pretty faces!

“Red, come here.” No please, nor pleasantries … just an instruction.

“Mister?”

“Here … now.”

Seconds later she appeared, tattooed, red haired beauty. We had an unsaid, unwritten pact not to share names and so her hair colouring served as her label. She didn’t seem to object.

And now she appeared, still gloriously naked, on the landing. “You wanted me Mister?”

Oh yes … I wanted her alright. I wanted her right here, right now. I had enjoyed wanking for them both, but me doing as they asked wasn’t the natural order of things, not at all, and so that had to be corrected.

“Did you enjoy telling me what to do huh?”

Red furrowed her brow and then nodded. “Yeah, kinda, it was cool.”

“Well it’s not how we do things. Turn around and grip the bannister girl.”

“What? You getting pissy with us because we let you wank off in front of us. Fucking hell Mister, most guys don’t even dream such a fantasy, yet you’re pissed off?”

I smiled. “I’m not pissed off Red, but this needs to be done.”

“Please Mister,” Red stood as ordered, her ass provocatively sticking out,

“Don’t hurt my pussy anymore, it’s still feeling all crushed and fucked and …”

“Don’t worry Red,” I cut in, “It’s your ass I’m going to take. Now grip the bannister and take two steps backwards.”

I grinned at the lewd position Red had now assumed. What a fucking ass! And yes, her cunt did still look swollen and red and quite painful still.

I lay my hand on hers, pressing it hard against the wooden bannister rail.

"I want you to respectfully ask me for the punishment you deserve, Red. Ask me to spank you."

She turns to stare at me, and, with her lips pursed, I think she glared a little. But then she turned back around, reassumed her position and spoke while facing away from me.

"I... I would like to humbly and respectfully ask you to discipline me ... Mister, I deserve to be soundly punished, and so will you give me a spanking?"

"I will be glad to oblige, girl."

Pulling her hand away from the wood I bring it close to my lips and kiss it lightly

"You are very beautiful, Red."

Again she turns and looks up, before returning to the position I had made her assume.

I rubbed my palm around her ass slowly, until it became firm and velvety to my touch. I continued to rub a little longer, circling all around her tortured pussy.

SMACK!

I suddenly raised my arm and brought my hand clattering down onto her body.

“Owwww fuckkkkk!” Her body jolted forwards, and I waited patiently for her to assume her position once more.

Then, SMACK! Again.

I resumed the spanking this time with an even harder swat. Then, spacing out my strokes I laid into Red in earnest.

The intensity is high, she is after all, a pain slut and so she needs to feel pain.

I have her full attention now, almost every stroke is met by louder moans, although I suspect she is still trying to moderate her reaction the best she can. The slaps are sharp, accurate, and cover the entire surface of her bottom, occasionally hitting the top of her thighs. I feel her body heat getting warmer, and then, without warning I suddenly increased the tempo...

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

... I have now upped both power and speed, breaking into a furious cadence that I know will leave her with a lasting impression. Red’s cries of pain are very loud, almost constant, and I know that the slut will hear every word … and be as jealous as fuck!

Every ounce of Red’s body is painfully submitting to the impact, and I keep it going, until she collapses, her knees to the carpet.

Bringing her right hand back behind her body in an effort to rub away the soreness, she is tearful and pleads for leniency.

"I'm sorry Mister, I'm soooo sorry, please stop, pleaaaaase!"

I nod and smile. “Get up Red, and assume the position once more.”

With a delicious, inherent reluctance, she obeyed. Her bottom was crimson, and displays a series glowing hand prints, the heat of which I can almost feel from where I stand.

“There will be no more, Red,” She seemed to relax at my words, but tensed once again when I began to apply cold gel to her anus.

Her back arched sensuously as I opened up her small hole with two of my fingers, circling round and round.

“Now you get ass fucked Red, stick it out towards me.”

“Ohhhh,” I hear her groan quietly. Something tells me that Little Miss Flame Hair is no stranger to a good ass-fuck …

I was about to find out …

******

“You fucked her and beat her?” My Little Girl said this as a question but it was really a statement because she knew full well what had happened on the balcony just outside the door, and I knew also that even in her ‘broken condition’ she would be jealous of the attention her friend had been getting.

“Don’t worry Little One,” I said, sitting down on the bed and stroking her hair, you will receive your turn, in due course. But we need to get you better first.”

She let me help ease her back under the duvet. Red was resting in the small spare room again, and now the slut was closing her eyes once more.

It was only late afternoon, but it seemed like much needed sleep was coming early for us all.

Part 33 – The Girl

“You fucked her and beat her?”

He didn't need to answer because I knew. He'd called her out onto the landing.

And then I heard.

Sitting up with my sore arms and legs and shoulders and hips and back. With my torn up body. With my marked wrists and ankles.

I heard. Everything.

I heard him hit her. (I guessed with his hand, slapping her hard on her ass I guessed).

I heard her cry to stop (and I guessed not meaning it).

I heard him carry on (and I guessed smirking as he did).

I heard her moaning (meaning 'more and harder please')

I heard him telling her what he was going to do next.

I heard her silence (expecting it. Her cunt already a ball of burning pain. Getting hotter and wetter).

I heard him (in my head) opening her ass (her cunt really is too fucked).

I heard her letting him in. Into her sweet, tight ass. Into that lovely hole I kissed and licked.

I heard him.

Heaving himself into her.

I was so fucking miserable. I hurt but not enough.

He spoke to me.

“Don’t worry Little One, you will receive your turn, in due course. But we need to get you better first.”

I liked that. A promise. I want to get better, so he can make me worse again. That's all I really want now. Better to be hurt. Better to have my body clean and well so he can take it (not me... just it) back to that place of torture. Better to hurt. That's good. Better to hurt me better.

I feel so tired.

She's sweet.

She slides me under the covers where it's warm and soft. She kisses me just once. I love her and I love to dream. I can dream now. Of everything being better....

Part 34 – The Guy

The sign read ‘Household Waste’, it was a familiar road but one that I usually travelled with a car filled with garden rubbish or clearance crap from the garage, not a bag filled with blood stained sheets.

But here I was, and damn, if I wasn’t feeling pretty good about … well, about life in general to be honest.

It was Monday morning. Most people were at work, but then most people couldn’t, to a large degree, choose their own hours, like I could. Monday mornings held no clinic for me and it was not a hospital operating day, and so it served my purpose of providing me with a little space after a hectic weekend.

Hectic weekend … now there’s an understatement! It’s what I will say to my wife, of course.

“How was your weekend dear?” she will ask.

“Hectic as always honey, don’t know where the time goes. Is Pinot okay with the meal, I have a bottle chilling …?”

I chuckled at the thought. Just imagine the alternative.

“How was your weekend dear?”

“I’m exhausted honey. Hardly slept at all because I tortured two teenage Uni students almost to death over in Leeds, and then brought them back here. We got blood all over the spare bedroom sheets and I fucked one of them in the ass out there on the upstairs landing. Is Pinot okay with the meal, I have a bottle chilling …?”

Now I laughed out loud!

It took seconds to dump the bag. Nothing incriminating because no crime had been committed. The girls were of legal age, and consenting, and while that consent might be considered dubious in a court of law, they’re not likely to make a complaint. So, all is good.

As I stepped back into the car my mind drifted back to just a couple of hours ago.

I hated this point in our meetings and yet I felt immense relief when we got to it.

We were at Leeds station. It meant the weekend was over, but it also represented the fact that it had all gone to plan, if only just … and the girls had survived, if only just …

Outwardly both girls looked fine. No sign of any wounds or welts, even if they were both moving with a little difficulty. I had redressed the puncture lesion on my slut’s wrist and her shoulders were still swollen and stiff. But I had taken the slings off her and she seemed okay.

“Your arms will ache for a week or two, so be careful, but you shouldn’t need to do anything else with your wrist.” I smiled down at my Little Girl. I loved how she let me say a quick goodbye to Red and then stayed with me as her flame-haired friend wandered off.

“Yeah, ‘cept people will think I tried to kill myself when they see the bandage,” she was smiling as she said this, albeit weakly.

“Thank Mister.” She stood on her tip toes and gave me a kiss … on the cheek … like I was her uncle or something … incredibly chaste, but the way her lips lingered just for a second or two was quite hot too.

I nodded, “You’re very welcome,” I replied.

“Maybe we should leave it a little while, before we meet again,” I suggested, “Give your bodies a chance to heal properly?”

My Little Girl smirked, and then, as she turned to walk away, she replied, “Maybe we should.” And, after a well-timed pause, she added, “… then again, maybe we shouldn’t. Bye Mister.”

And with that, hand in hand, Red and the slut walked off into the station.

THE END OF ACT 5

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