Bondage Girls

 I landed on the other side of the island by boat and am hiding and camouflaging the boat. Not a sound can be heard. Just waves and the full moon over the jungle. Now I’m walking. The vegetation is dense. Damp. I push large leaves aside. Every step is calculated. The top spy’s villa lies somewhere ahead, hidden behind palm trees and rocks. She has the flash drive. Our flash drive. And she thinks this island is impregnable. I see the first guards. On the left, on the slope, two girls with flashlights slowly making their way down the path. On the right, closer to the water, three more. Further up, among the trees, another silhouette is moving. Scattered everywhere. Well-positioned. But not perfect. I stay in the shadows, count their intervals, memorize the gaps. I sneak a little further through the underbrush. Then I see the villa—and I’m quiet and invisible.

 

<MistressMcgovern721> A life of debauchery, fine wines and perverted pleasure. Life has never been so good......well.....for me at least. But the same cannot be said for the poor unfortunate souls who have been forced to feel my wrath. The African villages, laid to waste by my explorations into the mining trade, Indian villages ravaged by my greedy need to own more land. The famine, suffering, all in the name of profit. The small companies made bankrupt by my unquenchable thirst for power and influence. And of course the tales of those who have ventured to my island never to be seen again. The locals living in fear and too afraid to even mention my name. My late night party's which fill the tropical night with the haunting screams of the innocent. The white sands of the pristine beach often stained crimson red in the morning. And here I'm untouchable, feared and a force of nature.

<Lara_Catgirl> I count five guards. All women, well-trained. These aren’t ordinary guards—they’re killing machines. My pulse is pounding too loudly. I breathe to calm it down. I count. I wait. Then I continue on foot. The vegetation is wet and dense. Every step has to be precise. One branch, and everything falls apart. Two on the slope. Flashlights—they’re moving slowly. Three on the right, closer to the water, but they’re splitting up. One of them is now up among the trees. Five. Well-spaced. Not perfect. I stay in the shadows. Count their intervals. Memorize the gaps. The two in front of me are getting closer. They feel safe. I take out my blowgun—the darts are laced with an instantly paralyzing nerve toxin. One shot. The second follows immediately. Both fall to the ground without a sound. Their bodies no longer obey them. I’m upon them in seconds. I twist their hands behind their backs, tie them together tightly and mercilessly with zip ties, then their feet; then I bind them into a tight hogtie and gag them. I drag them into the bushes so they can’t be seen. Two down. Three left. That’s why something inside me still trembles. Cold sweat and tightness in my chest. I swallow it down. The villa is in front of me. I see the light. Someone is standing at the entrance. There’s movement somewhere in the garden. Twenty meters. If someone comes around the corner now, there’s no turning back. I wait for an opening. Then I sneak on. Quietly. Invisibly toward my next opponent.

 

Smoking a cigarette and my mind a million miles away, filled with the memories of the night before. Not guilt you must understand, neither regret. The sense of superiority one feels from being all powerful is enough to cleanse the darkest of souls. And the thought that I have a Mossad trained security team helps one to sleep comfortably. I inhale and my milky white breasts rise, then fall as I sigh. Then a rustle in the bushes, my senses finely tuned like radar, a sigh, groan. All met by a self-satisfied smirk which etches across my face. Thinking to myself that at this precise moment one of my entourage is having to dispose of the nights entertainment, and that's a job for only the stoutest heart. But that sixth sense of mine is in the process of going haywire as I stare out into the void. Then nothing but the rustle of the trees in the tropical breeze. A sense of calm returning and a mental note to myself "You're a Queen who sit's upon her throne, untouchable, impregnable" I laugh and enter my lounge, extinguishing my cigarette and letting my dress slip to the floor. And now it's time to be pampered. I glide across the marble floor as if riding a cloud and retreat to my spa. It's massage time......

 

 My heart is still pounding. I’m breathing shallowly, waiting, listening out into the night. Nothing stirs. Closer to the house, I come across the next two. They speak softly and sound too confident, as if the whole forest belonged to them. Again, I wait. Again, I seize the moment between their footsteps. Again, all is quiet. They, too, disappear into the bushes, bound and gagged. One remains. I hear her at the spa, calm, almost casual, as if all that’s left now is a massage. The last one. I step out of the shadows, silently, without a long struggle, and after a few seconds she, too, lies bound and gagged outside the light. Then I enter the house. The door opens without a creak. Marble under my shoes, the smell of smoke and expensive oil, subdued light in the hallways. I go through room by room, checking every corner, every door. No one else is there. The spa is in the back. You’re lying on the massage table, relaxed, and waiting. You think you’re untouchable. And you don’t realize that I’m already in the room.

 

In a state of sinful bliss. I close my eyes and await the soothing hands of my masseuse. And the thing I love is how I can feel the fear through her trembling hands. Nothing is more erotic than striking fear into the heart of another. I coo, relax, breathe gently. The expensive aroma of luxury and excess wafting under my nose. Suddenly my eyes open as I swear I hear a scuffle..............Only to realise my imagination is playing tricks on me. I gently slip my right hand under my body and inside my knickers, softly teasing the soft folds of my sex. Another noise as a door is closed, soft footsteps on the marble floor. And I giggle as I realise that it is the power I hold over my staff that makes them tiptoe around like church mice. I slowly withdraw my hand from my knickers, feeling my fingers run over the soft bristle of trimmed bush on my pubic mound. And finally my masseuse enters. I say nothing. I don't even open my eyes. I growl a low murmer of displeasure for being kept waiting. And I give a little jiggle of my ass, allowing my firm, full, milky white ass-cheeks to gently clap

 I stand in the doorway for just a moment and see you lying on the bench. Your eyes are closed. You look relaxed. A soft sound, and you briefly open your eyes, then decide it’s just your imagination. Your hand slides beneath your body. I watch and hear your breathing. Your giggle when a door slams somewhere and you think an employee is tiptoeing by. Then you pull your hand back. I step inside. Quietly across the marble. You don’t open your eyes. You just groan impatiently because you had to wait, and you move your hips as if you wanted to force the massage. I straddle you . My butt on your thighs. I take your arms and slowly guide them behind your back, as if that were part of the treatment. Oil drips onto your skin. I massage you tenderly, exactly as you expect. Then I move my hands firmly onto your back and tie them tightly together with a cable tie. It cuts deeply into your soft skin. I lean forward, feeling my chest press against your back; my nipples are hard, and I say softly, “Surprise.”

 You glide and as you straddle me I let out a delicate sigh. The weight of your ass resting snugly across the rear of my thighs. I give a little shiver of excitement as my skin dimples with goosebumps. Then I give a gentle shudder as you lever my arms behind my back. My shoulder blades shoot and crack as the tension is released. I give another yearning sigh and feel the first droplets of warm oil splatter across my back. "Good girl" Even evil old me can pay a compliment. Then you sink your hands into my flesh, teasing, rubbing, probing every knot and sinew. And I register that you have a more confident feel about you. No longer the frightened lamb of old. "Mmmmmmmmm....Gooooood....Giiirllllll" You then grip tighter, vice-like. "Oooochhh...OW...OW..." I give a startled yelp. "WHAT THE FUCK!" I feel the tight plastic scythe into my flesh.........."HEY.....WH......." My voice peters out as I feel my arms wrenched and the soft swell of breast across my back....mtc

 

 And then a voice which cuts deeper than the ties which bind my wrist. It's that moment of panic which is so alien to me. I wince as the ties cut deeper. Hiss like a cornered rattlesnake......I wildly thrash my head, arch my back, desperately try to see who you are. My stomach begins to churn violently. Heartbeat begins to race and beat like a drum

<Lara_Catgirl> I’m sitting on top of you, holding you down, while I watch you wiggle your fingers—it turns me on and makes me wet to have you tied up like this beneath me—and I slide up a little and sit down on your fingers. The zip tie is tight and firm. Your hands are pinned firmly to your back. You want to jerk your head around, but I won’t let you. With one hand on the back of your neck, I push your head forward again. “Don’t turn,” I say coldly. Your breathing is too fast. Something beneath me is trembling—something that was just moments ago a source of strength. I lean in close to your ear. “You’re going to listen to me now. Your guards are out of commission; you don’t have a team anymore. You’re my prisoner. I’m not leaving until I get what I want.” So, where’s the flash drive? …And don’t lie. You know yourself that this isn’t a game anymore,” I say coldly.

 

:My mind is a whirl......fuck! fuck! fuck! I feel you ease up and crunch my hands into the small of my back. "Agggggshhhhhhh! Another ethereal hiss pours from between my lips in a snarl. "BIG FUCKING MISTAKE, WHOEVER YOU.........Hrmmmphhugggshhhh" My face ground into the mattress forcing me to tail off my protests in a comical rasp. I strain and throw all my strength into levering my face up. A deep gasp of air and "GUARDS....GUA.......Urrumpphhhshhh" Again my voice tails off as you press my face down hard. I feel my ass clench, thighs strain......overcome with rage. I begin to wheeze and splutter and I feel your full weight across my back. Then I feel the warmth of your breath across my ear. A determined voice, rich and lush like velvet. And the controlled request. I feel my lungs start to burn as you've compressed my face so tightly into the mattress that I'm struggling to seep in the slightest of breaths. What has taken only a matter of seconds begins to feel like an eternity. And I relent, and through my body language hope to convey the message that a deal can be done

 I ease up a little and sit down harder on your bound hands; I can feel myself getting wet and aroused. It turns me on so much to sit on top of you like this while you’re tied up beneath me. You hiss and want to scream. You want to call out to the guards who are lying bound around your estate. I pull your head up by your hair and then slam it once, twice, against the bench. Your body tenses beneath me. Rage. Breathing. Resistance. I keep my full weight on your back, and my warm breath is against your ear. “We need to talk.” Then I climb down. I yank you roughly off the bench and let you fall to the floor. You land hard. A kick to your ribs, so you understand this isn’t a joke. Then I grab your hair, pull you up, and lead you away like a prisoner. The chair is ready. I sit you down, search the drawers, find ropes, and tie you tightly to the chair . Wrists. Ankles. I leave you no room to move. Then I sit down across from you. I look at you for a long time. I smile at you, and the slap comes without warning. “So.” My voice remains calm. My eyes do not. “How are we going to handle this? Do I really have to torture you first before you tell me what I want to know?” I don’t even lean forward. “Where’s the flash drive?”

:

MistressMcgovern721:

 You revel in my predicament and clearly aroused you disgust me. But any attempt to make semse of the situation is erased from my mind by you smashing my face down hard. "UKK..UGG....AHSHH" I spew out three animalistic grunts on each smash. The dizzying effect causing a drone through my ears as my eyes cross and I gasp in disbelieve. I feel my muscles spasm involuntarily. You press down yet harder and I feel the air driven from my stomach in a hoarsey guffaw. Your breath like a warning cloud of foreboding. Your voice...that fucking voice, full of assertive dominance. And then the relief felt as you unpin me. I suck in the deepest of breaths, filling my lungs as I splutter and drool. But no sooner have I the time to make sense of proceedings than I'm cast to the floor like a piece of trash....

 Deep breaths as I writhe, roll and finally glimpse your face. And as if in a warning you volley a kick into my ribs which sends a violent shudder through my whole body "GODDDDD....AAAHHHHHHHH" My scream is unwordly as you send me into a death roll across the floor, bound and unable to clutch and soothe my pain. I feel like you've drive a hot spear into my ribs. "W...W....WHO....WHAT...WHY....WHO....WHO ARE YOU" I stammer out my plea only for you to sink your hand into my hair, tightly winding my locks around your fingers.Then the searing pain of you ripping me so harshly that I feel my scalp is being torn....."EEEEEEEEKKKKSHHHHHHHHHH" My squeal so laced with pain that it's ear-splitting whine drives the nesting birds from the trees....

I'm paraded like a prize cow as my feet scramble across the floor, confused, afraid. And then you slam me down into the chair and our gaze meets. My lips trembling, teeth bared in a grimace, pupils wildly dilated. I'm held rigid in your gaze until your open palm cracks me across the cheek. I feel my eyes fill with tears as my head whips to the side.Only for me to have to meet your stare again. You question, enquire and I'm tightly trussed as the course ropes bite into my flesh. "W...w....w....w" I begin to snarl....."What do you want from me?"

The ropes dig deeply into your skin. “W–what do you want from me?” I sigh. “I’ve already told you twice. Apparently you don’t understand me, even though we speak the same language.” My fist hits your nose. Then I yank you off the chair by your hair, drag you to the indoor pool, push you to the ground, and sit on your back. One hand stays in your hair. “Let’s see how long it takes for the two of us to speak the same language,” I say coldly and push your head underwater. You struggle as best you can in your restraints, but I hold your head firmly underwater... After quite some time, I pull you back up... You look like a wet cat. Then I push you back down, this time a little longer than before, until I pull you back up. “So, the stick. Where is it?” I straddle you and grind against your back while I feel myself getting wetter and wetter.

You mock and I explode in rage. The thought of being humiliated in my own home is too much to bear. And I without a thought to my bonds I try to throw myself at you. A foolish and painful mistake as the ropes sink deeper into my skin. And it's your voice, calm, methodical, menacing which makes me hate you with every fibre of my being. I'm snarling like a rabid dog at it's leash. It only takes the crunch of your fist to my nose to send a blinding white flash through my brain, senses scrambled and forcing a trail of drool to run from my mouth "Ughhhhhhhh" another pathetic monkey like groan and my eyes flitter the whites. I feel you rip at my hair causing another searing pain across my scalp. Hauled and thrown to the ground with a sickening thud. Now I begin to hyperventilate. "STOPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP" Howling as you straddle my back......"I...I....I.....HAVE.....MONEY......MONEY......." The offer is in vain as you force my face into the pool. A gurgle, bubbles rippling to the service.........First my throat is flooded with a torrent, then my lungs......."Huuuuuughhhhhhhhhhhhh" I'm pulled to the surface. You grinding into the small of my back to further humiliate me..."I..I..I...HAVE......." and again I'm forced under the surface. My eyes bulging wildly. I begin to wretch. Body convulses. And then you pull me free. I violently heave out the chlorine tinged water mixed with the bile of my stomach and feel myself slipping into unconciousness, limbs tingling, eyes rolling. Your grinding to my back driving the water from my stomach. I let out a breathless " Ooooooeeeeeeee" and my body goes limp

 You lose consciousness. “Damn it,” I hiss. I roll you onto your back and straddle your chest. My firm buttocks press into your nipples. I can feel you beneath me, trapped, unable to throw me off. And yes—I’m enjoying this. Not just the assignment, but the fact that I’ve tied you up like this. In your own home. The woman who thought she was untouchable is beneath me; I’m riding her tits, Your face, your hair… A light slap. “Hello. What’s going on?” You’re slow to come to. I stay seated on top of you, in control. I know how humiliating this must be for you, but that’s what I want—to humiliate you. I shift my weight slightly and keep you pinned beneath me. It feels right—dominant—and I’m totally wet and horny. Another slap. “People say amazing things about you. And what do I find? A drooling, whimpering old witch.” I laugh softly. The power of holding you like this goes to my head. Your hands tied together behind your back, your body beneath my thighs—no escape. “Wake up. Damn it.” My slaps grow harder until your eyes return. I lean forward, staying seated on top of you. “Look at me.” I wait until you do. “You belong to me now. At least until I get what I want.” My voice stays calm. Beneath that lies the other truth: that I’m enjoying being on top. Seeing you tied up. Hearing you breathe and knowing there’s nothing you can do. “The flash drive. Now. And then, of course, your money from the safe—I want it all now, or do you want to go back under?”

 I groan, mutter, babble. But I'm oblivious to my surroundings. I feel the presence of something, somebody. But I'm struggling to comprehend what is taking place. I feel my chest compressed, squoze, crushed, which forces a heave frommy torso which bubbles my saliva on my lips. The crimson lipstick smudged and smeared. Your rhythmic grinding kneeding my soft orbed breasts like dough. Then you ride over my face and the sense of suffocation returns. The ropes cutting deep as I feel the first stinging slap. No response to show. I hear a voice, again, something or somebody. Another crack and my eyes remain closed. That voice again. A laugh which will haunt me to my dying day. Then you slap me back to life. My eyes slowly opening, unfocussed, swirling and void of hope. What is surely a cracked rib having to bear the pressure of you grinding me into the floor. I give a jarring convulsion as my body jolts back to the horror of my reality. My face flushed red by my near drowning and assault with the palms of your hand. And you smugly bark your request. Looking up at you as you're seated like some avenging angel.....

I squint, try to focus. Another wriggle under you, which only forces me to whimper in frustration. "Who sent you....D...D....Do.....you.....know....who....I....am" I heave again as more contents from the pool spill from my mouth. And then in an act of defiance I spit a mouthful of saliva into your crotch "FUCK YOU"

 You moan. You mumble. You’re not quite there yet. I’m sitting on your chest and can feel exactly how you’re giving in beneath me, yet still fighting back. Your lipstick has smudged. Your face is red. The ropes are tight. I slowly rub myself against you. Not because I have to, but because I want to. Because you’re lying tied up beneath me, and I have the power and the moment when the untouchable queen becomes nothing but breath and defiance. A slap. Your eyes stay closed. Another one. Then you come back. Blurry. Gasping. “Who sent you… do you know who I am?” Water is still dripping from your mouth. Then you spit in my crotch. “Fuck you.” I just look at you for a moment. “Hmm. Maybe I should fuck you, bitch. But that was a big mistake.” I talk to you like you’re a naughty child. Calmly. Almost gently. And that’s why it’s worse—more humiliating. Then I sit on your face. I ride you, hard, rhythmically, until your defiance turns into nothing but a whimper. Through the fabric, you can feel me—how wet I am. I stay longer than necessary. Because I enjoy having you like this. Then I slide back down to your chest, clamp your head between my warm, firm, slender thighs, and pinch your nose shut until your mouth hangs open. Then I let my saliva run slowly and delightfully into your mouth. “Swallow.” I wait. “The stick. Or the next mistake will cost you dearly.”

 I hate you. I hate you more than I ever thought possible. That fucking voice, lecturing, admonishing me. I hate you. The thought that you have me like this is a shame I cannot burden. The threat to fuck me met with a glaring contempt. Again I summon what little strength I have remaining only to let out a stifled cry as the ropes cut. Then my toes curl as you mount me and take your obvious pleasure. The musky aroma intoxicating as I grunt into your crotch. Only for you to peel away and force me to have to stare into your eyes once again. I'm almost broken, revealed, subdued. And then your thighs clamp like a vice. My features squished in a grotesque grimace. Fingers pinching my nose tightly, mouth swinging open like a lantern in the wind. And then you slaver a stream of salive into the gaping cavity. It trickles across my tongue to pool in my throat. I choke and my face takes on the appearance of a scolded wife. My face turning crimson. And fear takes hold of me in it's unforgiving grasp. It's like looking into a mirror of my evil self. I meekly try to signal my submission with my eyes. "Ok.....Ok.....P....Please" And I feel the tears well and begin to flood from my eyes in a stream of surrender

You hate me. I can see it in your eyes. Your toes curl as I sit on top of you, pressing down on you a little, and you squirm beneath me—and I get exactly what I want: you, bound. In my power. I pull back, just far enough that you have to look me in the eyes again. I sit up straight when I hear your words and sit powerfully and dominantly on top of you, pressing my weight down on your chest, and brushing a few strands of hair from your face. The same hands that were just harsh are now almost tender. A smug, sweet smile crosses my lips. “You want to surrender. To submit?” I continue to ride your tits slowly, kneading you beneath me, letting you feel the difference—my hard butt cheeks against your nipples. I lean forward a little. “So. What’s your decision? … I want everything—not just the flash drive, but also your money and the secrets in the safe.”

That you switch to what is almost an act of tenderness somehow adds to the misery. Knowing that you're enjoying the pain etched on my face. The shame, bewilderment all on view. And as you push down the pressure to my rib is an expertly delivered lesson in control. My mouth again forms a gaping hole only for the pain to have rid me of voice. Just a whisper of breath. My tits, pancaked by your steely ass. Each grind pulling at my breasts until they are red raw. My nipples puffed and throbbing. I cannot take it anymore and try to answer. Yet again my voice is vanquished only to be replaced by a sob. My eyes fluttering as I meekly nod. "anything....please......who are you...anything you want......anything....."

 I brush a strand of hair from your face. “I’m your personal nightmare.” My voice stays soft. Beneath it lies something warm, dark… I feel a sense of satisfaction. “I’m the person you used to be when you were young. Hungry. Tough.” You sob. I realize how much this affects me—not out of pity. More like a rush. “And I’m going to take everything that belongs to you.” I shift my weight, staying heavy on your chest as I continue to ride you. “Not just the stick. Your security. Your island. That feeling of being untouchable—I’m taking it all from you.”

It's done so expertly, unhurried, methodically. You sweep my hair from my face and I'm once more locked in your gaze. Allowing me just enough breath before grinding it out of me. My hands now tingling through the loss of circulation. My breasts throbbing will a dull ache as you grind that steely ass over them like a press. But you're clearly drunk on your own success. The boasts, promises. It all begins to point towards a move away from your training, which whoever provided can congratulate themselves on a job well done. But the near orgasmic glee in your manner betrays that you may be distracted by the fact you've worked yourself into a sexual frenzy upon my behalf. And in my current predicament I simply have to endure it. But I'm thinking, plotting, downloading your potential weakness.....

" Ok.....Ok.......It's all yours.......Have it.....P..P...Please just let me go.......I beg you" I look to measure your response, just as you give a delicate tremble. "It's all yours and more.....Just please let me go"

 I smile at you and gently stroke your cheek toward your hair, leaning deeply over you, my face close to yours. “You want to tie me up after you’ve destroyed me?” I ask softly, then I grab your hair hard and ram my forehead into your face. My free hand roughly runs over your bra, squeezing tightly—right where you yourself had just squeezed your breasts. I hold the pressure and wait for your next move. I yank your head back hard once more, take a quick breath through my teeth—and strike again. My forehead crashes hard against your face. The blow lands squarely. I feel it give way beneath me, hear your cry. Pain shoots through my own skull; I lick my lips as I draw my combat knife and press my buttocks against your stomach as I pull it out. The steel catches the light. You see it. So do I. And that’s exactly what does something to me as I look into your eyes. Fuck, I’ve got the legend in my grasp and taken out five elite fighters—I feel the arousal gathering, heavy and warm, between my legs. I ride you slower, more deliberately, because I need the pressure. ..... 

 I press the blade against the fabric and pull it upward. The fabric gives way as if it were nothing. Your chest is suddenly exposed. I lick my lips and stare at it longer than necessary. The excitement rises in my stomach, in my thighs, in my voice. “You look better this way,” I grin devilishly, intoxicated by the power I have over you. I let the flat blade glide over your skin, just enough for you to feel the cool metal. Then I tilt it just enough so that the tip touches your nipple. A tiny bit of pressure. A small drop of blood. The sight hits me hard. I bite my lower lip, exhale, and press myself closer against you. “You want to keep that, don’t you?” The blade travels across your cheek; mine caresses it. “Do you know all the things I could do to your face?” I purr as the blade presses lightly against your throat. I feel your pulse against the steel and my own against it. Again, I press the blade just lightly, and again a drop of blood appears. “Fuck…” I say, very, very quietly. I’m enjoying this. Your fear. Your blood. The way you tremble beneath me and yet still think you could talk your way out of this............. 

 I hold the blade against your throat for a heartbeat longer, just to feel how much it turns me on. Then I take a deep breath and stand up before I lose myself in it completely. I cut through the restraints on your legs—your hands and arms remain bound—and I grab your hair and pull you up. “Show me where the stick is and your safe—right now.” “And if you make one wrong move, you’ll find out just how much all of this turns me on—just how much I really want this.”

 

The tenderness of your touch is terrifying. And renders my futile attempt to remain composed useless as your breath races over my face. I can't believe what I'm hearing......."no.....no......of course n....." My reply cut short by you ripping at my hair and forcing me to let out a pathetic yelp. Your brow pressed against me. I begin to shake, tremble and squirm. And then you claw at my breast and I feel your nails pinch. "Ooooooch....n.....no.......hey.......c'mon.....please" You hold the pressure on my tit and yank my head back so forcibly that my teeth are bared and the sinews stand out. "I...i......i.....it......you're....you're hurting me" A pleading so pathetic that I feel a part of me die in shame. Then a blinding white flash explodes across my vision as a concussive crunch sends my prone body into a shudder. A sickening drone runs through my skull as I now have the horror of seeing you in double vision. Your ass now sinking into the pit of my belly forcing the wind from me as my cheeks billow....

 Then you reveal the cold steel and I'm paralyzed in fear. The ice cold blade raking over the milky white of my tit to leave a scorched track. The point pricking the soft nub of my nipple and forcing me to writhe and bite down on my lips. The threat to remove it causing me to again hyperventilate and almost feint. But the cold steel across my face wakes me from my slumber . It's resting across my jugular turning me rigid......"God...God......Fuck....C'mon......I'lll do anythi.......Oghhhhhhhhhhhhh" And I feel it pierce to release a delicate trickle of crimson to ebb across my skin. The fear of death now so overwhelming that I have lost all self-control. "I'll give you anything......Just don't cut me.....anything" 

That moment when my entire being is in the hands of this stranger is crushing. A moment in time that has no equal. My body revealed and abused for your now obvious pleasure. Only for you to splice through my leg restraints and haul me upright like a puppet. "Thank you....Thank you........." My legs like jelly as my bloodied tit quivers. I try to walk and I'm like Bambi on ice. My breathing crude and vulgar as the mixture of pool water and your saliva spills from my mouth run down my chin. I cough, whine and stagger as you thrust me through my home. And I'm forced to consider the pain of so many who I've treated as you treat me now. But for the moment I'm still alive. And whilst I'm still alive I have a chance

 I drag you down the hallway and can tell by the way you stagger just how little of you is left. It excites me and makes me smile. It’s not just the mission—you are My prisoner, in your own home, your own fortress. I whisper in your ear. “You understand that I want the flash drive. But listen carefully: I don’t just want the flash drive.” I press the blade lightly against your back. Just being this close is enough. You’re trembling. I enjoy that trembling. “I want the money. The accounts. The codes. The island. Everything you’ve stolen.” I yank your hair briefly and force you to look at me. “And I want you just like this. Tied up. And remember, you’re at the mercy of my whims.” I laugh softly and melodiously “That turns me on. More than the flash drive. More than the money. Having you as my prisoner. The woman who thought she was untouchable is running ahead of me, and saliva is still dripping from her chin.” I press you against the wall, my forearm against your chest, and the blade flat against your neck. “You’ll give me everything. Not piece by piece. Everything.” My voice grows hoarse. “The flash drive first. Then the money. Then you’ll tell me where the rest is. And you’ll stay like this as long as I feel like having you as my captive and slave.” I let you go and push you forward. “Now you lead the way. One wrong door, one wrong word—and this chance is gone, and you’ll regret ever having met me.” I’m burning inside. Control over you, your possession that will soon belong to me. “You belong to me as long as I want this. So run.”

 I'm propelled through my own home like a slave on their way to market. Each hesitation, pause, movement you make causes me to let out involuntary whimpers. Your words are pouring over me in waves, I try to reply only for my voice to fail me. All I can do is feverishly nod my head in agreement. Then I feel the point of the blade at my kidney and I stop dead in my tracks like a statue..."God! No...No......Why?.....Please" My hair ripped again like a leash forcing me to look at you. My lip trembling as I stammer " Ok...Ok....." You radiate a sadistic and sexual energy. And then you crunch me against the wall and I'm again forced to scrunch my face in a pained grimace. Your forearm slamming across my tender breasts and forcing me to wretch. And my eyes bulge wildly as you press that razor sharp blade to my throat. My jugular pulsing...........Sprung forward I totter and stumble. My garments now shredded and falling away from my body. My eyes darting wildly, searching for help. I think about screaming for help. But what good would that do. And then I'm forced to run. It's a pathetic attempt and I soon go crashing down to the floor.I scramble to my feet...

 Look back at you as I cower in fear "Sorry....Sorry......sorry" Now babbling I clamber to my feet. My arms useless to balance me as my skin is now streaked with rivlets of blood. I steady myself and in my state of terror I can barely find my bearings........I crash into a display case sending priceless stolen artifacts crashing to the floor. The sound of them smashing to smithereens echoing off the marble walls. And exhausted I reach my office, sink to my knees and bow my head

I lead you through the large rooms as if the house were already mine. It’s decorated with incredible taste—marble everywhere, expensive, tasteful furniture and paintings. I’ve got your hair in my fist and I’m shoving you forward. Every hesitation costs you a slap. Your head flies to the side. “Run.” You run poorly, stumbling more than anything. The former queen, who’s just trying not to fall. We walk through the lounge. I yank you around and slap you in the face again. “Faster, damn it! .” The next room is bigger. High ceiling. Stolen items on the walls. You falter. I strike. Once. Then again. “No breaks. You lead us on now.” The display case shatters. Glass. Shards. Artifacts on the floor. I laugh quietly and drag you along. “Your empire is falling apart right now.” You fall, wail, get back up, and say, “I’m sorry…” “I don’t care about your sorrys,” I reply harshly. Then we walk through another hallway. “Stick. Money. Codes. Island. You. Everything—I just want everything… I’ve just forgotten the mission.” You’re coming around the corner too slowly. Another slap. Spit on your chin. I can feel how much this turns me on—driving you like this through these huge, empty rooms. Then the office. You burst in. On your knees on the carpet, your head humbly bowed. I pause in the doorway for a breath and look at you, feeling the triumph, the hunger for more—the thrill of control. Then I walk in, grab your hair, lift your face up, and slam the pommel of the knife into your face… you fall dazed to the floor, and I tie you up in a tight hogtie… pulling the ropes very tight once more. Then I kneel in front of you, grab your chin, and lift your head. “So, where’s the USB drive and your safe?”

 My face stinging, brain scrambled. It's a total mind-fuck. I blabber, squeal, sob......My heart feels like it's about to burst. I'm lost in my own home. Horrified by the sight of my own blood, garments shredded. I'm struck dumb, unable to speak. Just the occasional heave and wretch. Wave after wave of panic. I sink into the deep luxurious pile of the carpet almost in an attempt to hide. My head lurching from side to side as I try to make sense of this. All it takes is for your presence in the doorway to cast it's shadow and I use every effort of what little strength I have remaining to try and slip my ropes. A desperate strain, biceps bulging, rope cutting. And to no avail I flake and sink again to the floor. The ominous sound of your boots the only sound.....

My hair ripped so hard that a clump tears from my scalp and again I look into your dead eyes. The sickening crunch of pummel on bone enough to send me into an instant sleep. Body in spasm as every muscle clenches tight in a concussed seizure. A deep roaring exhalation as I convulse. It could be minutes. It could be hours as I flicker back to life. My legs levered and tied so tightly behind my back that my thigh muscles burn with lactic acid. My back arched so as the base of my spine feels like a furnace. And my wrists and upper arms feel like they have molten lava running through the veins. My pert and bloodied tits thrust forward and quivering like jelly. Your hand clamp to my slobbering jaw. And I feel the sting of my tears cascading down my face........And all I can say is "Why?"

I stand over you and watch as the hogtie shapes you. Your back is arched, your hands and feet pulled together behind you, the carpet pressed against your cheek. Your breathing is shallow. Every attempt to stretch out ends in a twitch and a small sound. I walk around you once. Slowly. Deliberately. The excitement weighs heavily on me. I want you to notice that. “You look better this way. Tied up tight. In your own office. In your own kingdom. Tell me how it feels to be at the mercy of another… and especially one younger than you.” I chuckle and crouch down in front of your face, one hand under your chin, the other checking the rope between your wrists and ankles once more.Too tight to escape—the restraints cut brutally into your soft skin… soon you’ll lose all feeling in your hands from being bound so tightly for so long. Just right for me. “Can you feel it? That you can’t go anywhere?” You swallow. You barely nod. I smile. “Good. I’m enjoying this. Your rage, your hatred. This moment when the untouchable woman becomes nothing more than a whimpering thing that has to admit defeat to a better woman.” I brush a sticky strand of hair from your face, tenderly, and then pull it tight until your head is forced to lift. “The flash drive. The money. The codes. Everything.” I lean in closer, my voice almost tender. “You belong to me. Say it again. Then you’ll tell me where everything is. And if you lie,” I don’t finish my sentence… the threat hangs in the air

:

 Trussed so tightly that my body is contorted beyond it's limits. With you circling and the ever present threat of violence hangingin the air. I wriggle as you deliver a cutting tirade of dominance. The realisation of what is happening now surely forever etched into my soul. I feel my hands begin to throb as they tingle before becoming totally numb. Even the slightest inhalation is laboured and painful. The younger woman putting on a show, mocking, taunting, threatening me even in her silence. My shame and embarrassment as my bloodied breasts are presented like a spoil of war. I fucking hate you and everything you represent. My eyes swivelling to look for my guards. The moment you sweep my air causes me to tremble and another toothy grimace as you lever my head back and again I'm forced to feel your breath across my face. "Stop.....Please.....God it hurts......Please stop....Please" I have nothing left. My soul has been stripped bare...

My thighs feel they're being torn apart. " I...I.....no....no....GOD........fuck" The cramp begins to take hold....." Take it....Take it all......J...J...just spare me I'm begging you" I roll on my hips and the rope sinks deeper.......You loom over me with the air of authority that only comes from victory. And you shamelessly splay your legs to show the patch of dampness in your crotch. " My safe.....It's all in my safe" I tilt my head in the direction of a picture on the wall......"The codes, contracts......drive.....It's all in there"

<Lara_Catgirl> I walk around you and hear every sound you make. The squirming. And a groan when you move and the ropes dig even deeper into your skin. You hate me. I can feel it. And yet the sight of you turns me on: you, in your own home, as a prisoner. I hear your words: “Take it… take everything… spare me. The safe. Behind the painting. Codes, contracts, hard drive. It’s all there.” I actually smile. “Hmmm. Finally, that sounds like cooperation.” I walk over to the painting, swing it aside, and place my fingers on the lock. The first combination. Click. Wrong. The second one. Wrong again. The silence that follows is oppressive. I turn around, walk back, and crouch right in front of your face. My smile remains sweet but cold and merciless. “That was a big mistake.” I stroke your chin, almost tenderly. “Maybe your last one, too.”............ 

I crouch there for just a moment longer, right in front of you. And rage is boiling inside me. “You’re lying to me? You’re tied up in the hogtie and you’re actually lying to me? You’re crying, begging me—and then the code is wrong.” I stand up. “I told you I don’t play games. This is the limit.” I kick you hard in the ribs. You topple to the side, gasping, trying to say something. I walk around you, then deliver a kick to your head. I keep kicking you, punishing you for the lie. You collapse. I’m breathing faster and I’m furious. I see you lying there unconscious, still tied up, and realize how much being in control turns me on—and how much the wrong code made me angry. Quietly, just for you, even though you can’t hear it: “When you wake up, there won’t be a third chance. Only the truth. Or nothing at all.”

 I watch as you fumble with the dial and each click delivers a hesitant dread. The sound of your rhythmic steps almost designed purposely to enhance the fear I feel. Not knowing who you are or how you have managed to place yourself at the centre of my world. And suddenly you display a demonic anger, rage...... "S..S.....SORRY" I squeal and I've never felt more pathetic. A kick so vicious to my ribs that it's reverberates like a gunshot. My body taut and rippling in agony as you kick the wind from my body. My face hideously displaying the pain. I roll and the explosion of another blinding white flash as you volley a kick to my temple. I spasm before another kick sends me into a deep state of unconsciousness. My eyes rolled back in my head as I begin to bellow out deep unconscious grunts.......mtc

A twitch gasp and I come to rest in a bound heap like a bundle of rags. Body exposed and broken

<Lara_Catgirl> I’m standing over you while you’re lying on the floor. My anger isn’t just in my head. It runs deeper. You lied to me, and that does something to me—something dark—not because I expected trust, but because in that moment I almost believed you were giving in. I smile anyway. When I untie the restraints, it’s not out of tenderness. I don’t want you here on the floor. I want you where you spend your intimate moments. I lift you up effortlessly—years of training are paying off. On the bed, I undress you; I want you vulnerable and naked. Then I tie you spread-eagled to the bed, systematically and mercilessly. I pull the ropes tighter than necessary. I want to see you like this—humiliated and at my mercy. Beautiful in your helplessness. I see that you have many candles standing in the room, and I light them while I wait for you to come to. I want the feeling that you’ll see you belong to me when you wake up. I sit on the edge of the bed, look at you, and wait patiently.

I go on a journey in my concussed state. The sense of movement, aromas, musk all too imperceptible to know whether they're real. I feel a surge of blood flowing into my hands with the force of a bursting dam. I feel a shoulder blade sink into my stomach as I'm hoisted as if in a hallucinegenic dream. Arms and legs flopping as I'm carried. My eyes fluttering open for brief periods to stare at the floor. My skull throbbing to the extent that I feel it about to burst. Then the soft yield of my luxurious bed and for a moment I think it's all a dream. My clothes being removed and peeled away. My knickers being teased from my ass. I begin to take in my surroundings as the cold air rolls over my naked frame. Then you take my arms and I'm stretched and tied. Like a crucifixion. My ankles placed and my aching legs splayed wide.Again the feel of rope as the flicker of the candles project on the dark walls. My luxurious bedding enveloping my form. I give a cough and....

Finally my eyes open. Comically crossed for a moment as I try to focus. A frightened look around the room.The realisation that I'm bound again as I strain at my bonds. Looking down to see my blood smeared breasts. The red welts on my ribs and the fire that rages in my torso. And the glow of soft candle light which spotlights the neat trim of my fiery bush. And then the horror returns as you appear like a ghoul in a horror movie. "God.......NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.....FUCK" I rage and flail as I tense and strain against my bonds. Musculature pumped and teeth snarling....."why? why?"...mtc

Exposed and vulnerable beyond all believe. Again I strain at my bonds so forcibly that the bed shakes.....Now hissing, spitting, snarling..........It's almost inhuman as I give an animalistic roar in my attempts to free myself. The silken sheets slipping across my tightly clenched ass......"LET.....ME....FUCKING...GO.....NOW....NOW.....NOW" I'm delirious with fury........"DO IT........DO IT.....FUCKING RELEASE ME.....HOW.....FUCKING.....DARE....YOU.....FUCKING CUNT"

 You’re slowly coming back. I can see it, and I’m standing in the shadows. The flicker in your eyes. The cough. The moment you realize you’re lying in your opulent bed, bound tightly once again. The bed wobbles slightly as you thrash about and scream. I step out of the candlelight and approach the bed. Slowly. So you can really see me. You’re thrashing about. Hissing. Spitting. Growling. I stop and look at you, in your helplessness, even though you hate me right now. I’m disappointed, but I’m also certain that I can break you. The thrill of having you like this, after you lied to me, is incredibly arousing. I smile and say, “No.” I sit on the edge of the bed, one hand on your thigh, almost tenderly, “No, I’m not going to let you go.” My sweet smile again. You scream because you’ve woken up and realize it’s not a dream, that it’s not over. “This is just the beginning, sweetie,” I say coldly....... 

 I climb onto the bed, stand over you for a moment, look you over, and then sit astride your stomach. I pick up a candle. “Keep screaming,” I say sweetly. “Do you know what I love about your island?” I run my fingers over your nipples. Slowly. Until they get hard. “You can scream. And no one will hear you.” You tug at the restraints again, and I ride you gently. It turns me on so much. Having you like this beneath me. Naked, at my mercy. I light the candle. The first drop of hot wax hits one breast, your hard nipple. Then the other breast, your other nipple. Alternately. Small drops. You flinch, curse, scream. I smile. I trace my finger in circles over the sensitive skin of your nipples again… I tilt the candle toward you once more, and again the hot wax drips onto you.

<MistressMcgovern721> No longer do I feel the pain. All I feel is hate and the spite acts as an anaesthetic. Straining at the ropes as if my life depends upon it, and it may. My head thrashing as if I'm being subjected to an exorcism. My naked body a display of my humiliation. Just the look in your eyes is driving a stake into my black heart. You sit your ass down on my bed as if you own it. That sickly sweet smile of yours smouldering. And your hushed and composed tone in stark contrast to my wild thrashing. I cease to struggle as the futility becomes all too apparent....

And you stand astride me like a Colossus. The drop of your ass to my stomach forcing me to jackknife as much as my restraints allow and to belch out a winded groan as if released from the bowels of hell. My lips pursed and eyes watering as you sit. And again that sugary sweet voice questions. The touch of your fingers, first to my injured nipple, then the other teasing them to stiffen and plump up like the juiciest of raspberries. The contrast between stiff red nipple and milky white breast as if my nipples have become beacons of despair. I release a submissive purr as you stroke, pluck, rub. And I hate myself almost as much as I hate you, with you seeing me naked and broken in my own bed. "FUCK YOU...NOT THIS......NOT THIS......TAKE ALL I HAVE....TAKE IT" I begin to howl as you waft the flame over my nipple. The warm glow flickering...

 Then you drop that first drop of wax which forms a fiery mould around my nipple. "EEEEEESHHHHKKKKK......NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO...FUCK" I tense and then the wax begins to cascade across my breasts. The initial burn causing me to curl my toes and scrunch my eyes shut. My scream piercing and hopeless. "STOPPPPPPPPPPP.........ANYTHING...ANYTHING......ST.......GODDDDDDDDDD" It leaves a waxy trail as it runs to my naval to pool

 

 I'm going to stay on top of you for a long time. I love feeling you beneath me, looking into your face, teasing your nipples and breasts. The first candle isn’t enough. Luckily, I’ve lit several. When the wax runs out, I’ll take a new one, ride you dominantly, and let you feel who’s in charge. Again and again, I’ll turn the candle and let the hot wax run down your breasts. Again and again. You flinch. You scream. You curse. Your helplessness beneath me makes me wet and aroused. I don’t want a single drop. I want a layer. A film. Something that covers you until you no longer know,where the last scream faded away. In between, I run my fingers over the harder spots, over what has already hardened. Sensually. Almost tenderly. Then the wax comes again. Another candle. The crackling of the fire casts light over us. Your skin glistens with sweat—or cold sweat… probably both. The film grows thicker. Chest. Ribs. Navel. I slide down a bit, just to apply the next stroke better, and feel how much this turns me on: you tied up, me on top of you, and no time pressure (I’ve forgotten about the other girls outside in my frenzy of lust). Only when there’s truly a layer there do I stand up—slowly, sensually. I move like a dancer and walk over to the fire. The heat hits me. I pause for a moment, make you wait, let you hear that I’m fetching something. Then the small iron. It’s glowing red-hot. The ornate “L” glows within it. I turn it in the light, return to the bed, but don’t sit down right away. I just show it to you. “Before we continue, you have to see this,” my voice is sweet and melodic, the iron glowing. “Everyone should know who defeated and subdued you. This is my trademark,” I purr. I pause. “I’ll find out what I want to know one way or another—so let’s see how this L looks on you,” I say, smiling sweetly at you.

 

 You become lost in your own brutality. Like a serpent you ride me and poke, probe and scold. I become held in your hypnotic gaze, trance like in my state as my body becomes your canvas. The cumulative effects of your torment striking me dumb. The wax caked across my body. Your slender fingers molesting and probing, tickling and pinching. The state of your arousal is all consuming. The sway of your body as you mould yourself to my body with grind after grind. I begin to plead "Just finish me.....please....I.can't take anymore.......I will give you everything I own.....please" My whining falling on deaf ears as you feint attacks seemingly for no more than the fun of seeing me flinch in fear. And then you rise and I whisper in desperation "Thank you...Thank you.....I guarantee your safety....Thank you.....God........" You slink away and I feel reborn...

Making your way to the fire which provides the perfect backlight to your body. The sensual sway of your hips holding me in your spell...........I draw in huge lung-busting gulps of air. My belly rising and falling as I feel a sense of relief which is immessurable. Then I hear you fumble and the embers of the fire fall to your feet. You turn and I'm forced to witness you holding a branding iron, fiery red like it has been stoked in hell. It glows and dances like a firefly in the dark as you rotate it....."Hey! Hey! Not this.....Not this.....I promised you the world....Not this.....No...No" I slowly follow you as you return.....Again I strain at my ropes....."Not this............Please" You sit at my feet and I become fixated by the glowing brand. I feel my stomach knot and churn..........I begin to hyperventilate again in a fierce panic attack....Heart feeling like it is about to burst from my chest......"You wouldn't....You wouldn't" That smile of yours indicating the pleasure you're getting from my brutal chastisement........"You fucking wouldn't..........I will hunt you to the corners of the earth" I'm driven into a frenzied rage as I yank at my bonds so viciously that my wrists stream with blood....."I..I.....will......fucking kill you......."

I almost lose myself in you. My mission doesn’t matter to me as much anymore; I want to subdue you, break you, take your soul. In the feeling of having you as my helpless prisoner. Your hatred. Your twitches. Your body as something I can slowly decipher. Every movement I make triggers one in you, and that fills me with quiet joy. When you beg me to stop, a warm shiver runs down my spine. It’s not pity; it’s the power I have over you. The sweet, dark joy of hearing you finally sound afraid. I stand up and walk over to the fire, deliberately slowly. I want you to look at me. I want you to notice how much I’m enjoying this. I sway my hips in the flickering light and take the iron in my hand. It’s glowing—it’s my sign. I sit down at your feet and stroke your thigh, because your panic both excites and calms me at the same time. You belong to me so completely in this moment that it takes my breath away. “Shh. You’re making everything worse when you squirm.” I say it tenderly. “Concentrate… and it’ll be over soon.” Then I see your firm buttock glowing milky white, and without another word, I press the red-hot iron into your buttock; it sizzles and smells of burnt flesh. Your screams fill the whole room—the whole house. I stay very close to you and feel something opening up inside me—triumph, lust, and an almost tender possessiveness. “Well. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” My voice trembles with joy, not guilt. The “L” is branded and clearly visible; I smile and stroke the burned spot, then brush your hair out of your face. “You have no idea how beautiful you are right now. Defeated, bound, I marked it. But we're not done yet—I still need the chip and the code for the safe—but don't worry, I'll help you remember. I'll go get my knife and something else, then I'll sit on top of you again, press my butt against you, and my warm thighs against your hips.

<MistressMcgovern721> I'm frozen as you make your vow. And then it happens. Without a moment of regret you press the searing metal into the delicately soft skin of my round buttock. The smoke rising as the skin sizzles to provide a heavy acrid stench of burned flesh. And as quickly as you placed it you pull it away to let the skin pulse with the mark of your brand. My scream a precursor to my whole body shutting down. I'm driven into an epileptic type seizure of such force that my right hand finally splits the binding on my wrist to let my right arm flop to the bed. My teeth biting my tongue and filling my mouth with blood which seeps from the corner of my mouth with a filthy mix of bile and saliva to splatter and meet the wax and blood of my brutalized breast. I fall into a coma like stillness with my eyes staring blankly into the void. And the lingering smell of burned skin wafts....

 I feel your fingers examining the burn, sweeping my hair from my vacant face. My expression is that of somebody forced to witness the worst of horrors. I'm sure I hear you comment on my beauty. I'm sure I hear you mention a knife. But am I really sure of anything anymore. The added humiliation of peeing myself in terror and now feeling it pooled in my crotch. A listless bundle of bone and flesh. Each pulse pumping another trickle of blood from my throat and nipple. My ribs now turning into a hideous browning bruise. And the only feeling I still have is that I may never leave this bed. And if I do I will never be the same again

<Lara_Catgirl> I tie your wrist firmly to the post again, and as I do, I can feel exactly how far away you are—and yet how completely you’re still lying here with me. “Amazing how much strength you still had.” I straddle you. The weight. Your breath beneath me. The power of it rises warmly to my head once more. “This is my position—on top of you—and there’s nothing you can do. ” I lean down toward your face. My smile is sweet. “Do you know what I’m feeling right now? Power. Pure power .” A finger on your chin. “Your hatred belongs to me. Your body belongs to me. Your will, too—piece by piece.” I whisper, “All right, sweetheart. The interrogation continues. ” I wait until you look at me, then I take my combat knife and let the blade glide over your skin—your stomach, your breasts, your nipples—I press the blade into you again and again until blood flows. I cut you, but in such a way that no visible scars remain. I can smell your fear and see it in your eyes..... 

 Then I set the knife aside, take out a clear plastic bag, and pull it over your head. I slide up and sit on your breasts, lean down, and look into your panicked eyes as you frantically tug at your restraints... just before you lose consciousness, I pull the bag up, let you catch your breath for a moment, and repeat the process.

You lift my limp arm without me having the strength to resist. My head lolling. You give me a backhanded comment which serves no purpose other than to ridicule me. Sinking your heavy ass to rest across my pubic mound. The loom of your face so our noses brush. A finger to my chin which is enough to lever my head upright......."Please no more" Is all I can murmur. Then you go to work with the blade in a fashion so expert that you draw a neat criss-cross of searing tracks. The point so sharp and the knowledge that even the slightest more pressure would drive the ice cold blade into my innards. The way you torture my nipple causing me to screw up my face and wince and that little nub now glows. The blade across my stomach. I beg you with my eyes to stop. And I begin to sob hysterically, breathless and without a sound. Just the pour of my tears. The knife placed down and surely my ordeal is over......."T...t....t...take.it all.....take it all now"....

But your evil is without borders as you measure the moment to perfection in forcing the bag over my head. The plastic clinging to my face as my oxygen is extinguished. You being able to witness the pure level of terror. My face turning puce as I slip away. And then you free me before repeating in a manner which only a true expert could. Each time holding it a moment longer. I feel it cling to my tongue, nostrills, eyes bulging. And you proceed to grind against me.

 I keep torturing you with the clear bag. I see your panicked eyes and how your lips are gasping for air, sucking the plastic into your mouth. When I think it’s enough, I stop and pull the plastic bag over your head. I’m sitting on top of you, and only now do I realize how much I’ve been riding you and that I’ve come—my panties are damp, wet, and sticky. Without even realizing it, I’ve pleasured myself on top of you while you were in a panic. Your head lies limp on the bed, and you gasp for air in panic until I lift it. You don’t say “please” anymore—and inside me, a quiet triumph takes hold. I’ve broken you. Not just tied you up. I can feel it in your gaze, in the voiceless sobs, in that “take it all” look. The arousal is there, yes. But beneath it lies something more intimate— the sweet, dark joy that the woman with the island, the money, and the throne is now breathing only beneath me. Our noses touch. I could almost be tender. A part of me is. I gently kiss your lips and caress your cheek. The same part that is so satisfied precisely because tenderness here means power. “The code,” I whisper. I want the numbers. But I also want to hold on to this feeling: that you fear me. And you know that out there in the world, no one can hear you.............. 

: "When you tell me the numbers, I'll caress you, look at you sweetly, and kiss you tenderly," I whisper. "Thank you." I stand up... walk over to the safe, and it opens... I turn my head toward you and smile in your direction... I pack everything into my backpack and then come back to you. “Since you were so cooperative, you’ll get a gift from me.” I take off my pants and panties, grab a pair of shorts from your closet, and put them on. Then I come back and sit on top of you again. I show you my wet, damp panties. I cover your nose, and when you open your mouth, I stuff them into it. “So you’ll remember me,” I say tenderly. Then I get up, leave the house, and disappear into the woods.

No longer do I feel human as you leave me broken and with your filthy panties stuffed in my mouth. And this is how I was found in the morning by a guard who had managed to free herself. Striped and stripped, delirious and inconsolable in my shame and grief. Taken straight to the hospital on the mainland to begin my recovery. And the torment of nightmares that made me cower at the slightest noise. My empire had collapsed and my soul had been taken from me by this mysterious stranger. But one like you can never remain a secret. And I made it a vow to track you to the ends of the earth.