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Hairy Zone He had imagined this moment for hours, but suddenly he was uncertain. The kidnapper led a blind, wobbly, still cold Jamie out of her cell towards two floor-to-ceiling wooden timbers located in the center of the room. He was covered with sweat at the end as he sat back on his knees and smiled to himself. He trained the stun gun on the neck exposed above this space, his mind a sudden spin of instinct and calculation. So why was he so restless?

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In short, she was exactly what the industry wanted. He absolutely knew this about her, but like millions of other men in the northeast still felt an incredible physical attraction toward her. A low level celebrity, it turned out she left home early and often worked late, then took a company limousine home when her husband was in town.

However, when he left town on business, which was quite often, she usually drove herself into work so that she could join other broadcast TV types at one of the local bars after work for anywhere from two to four hours. He realized that this lady exactly fit his surly mood. It was time to show this sleazy whore what a real man, not one of her sycophants, would do with her.

He wanted to fuck her so hard, it made him ache just thinking about it. Something deep inside him had stirred. A wild, reckless, primal piece of him that had always loved danger, the adrenaline it brought; that had always loved testing himself against various challenges that crossed his path.

He was fascinated by them, attracted to them, and had given in to them far more than just once. She perfectly qualified as a temporary lover if he could only get to her without too much risk. There was no doubt he would make the attempt and he heard himself laughing like a madman as he made his plans. He grinned to himself, since he knew he would soon be enjoying the delectable Jamie.

Sometimes he got these feelings. They were rare, had happened perhaps four or five times in his life, but he could remember each one vividly. There came a kind of tingling sensation in his body, as if he were being bathed in a mild electrical current. It was the oddest thing, but the premonitions had always been correct. Each and every time it had happened, whatever it had showed him, that thing had always come to pass.

It was late afternoon, not too cold, but a harsh, persistent drizzle had fallen for the last couple of hours. Pools and puddles were everywhere, much splashed across the pavement and up on the sidewalk by passing traffic. All three carried umbrellas and she looked good with a rose blazer over a clay-colored blouse, no bra, tight jeans and black, strappy sandals with stiletto heels that seemed a little inappropriate for the cold, wet weather.

Her high heels made a distinct click on the sidewalk, amplified by the exaggerated swing of her hips. Young and fresh, seemingly bubbling over with high spirits, she marched into the bar as though at the head of her very own parade. Skin so clear it almost glowed, huge eyes, long blond hair; without even trying she still took his breath away. She was still in that bar and it had turned dark by the time the man reached her home; a light but steady rain turning cold had begun to fall.

He passed the house twice, slowly going in opposite directions and then parked a mile away in the back corner of a small, poorly lit lot set up for commuters using mass transport. Finally, he opened the trunk of the rental car and disabled the trunk light. Situated over a fifty meters back from the street, even better, the big-money home was faced by an empty lot across the street.

The nearest neighbors on that side were about seventy meters away on either side of the empty lot. There were numerous small shrubs in front of her home; all well lit by lawn lighting to remove obvious hiding places. But the sides of the property were sharply defined by multiple rows of large, thick ten-foot tall shrubs that remained mostly in darkness. Carrying a plastic shopping bag filled with the few things he needed, and bundled in an expensive dark blue raincoat, leather gloves and umbrella that allowed him to look like he fit in, the man walked by her home the first time.

Lights off, no one home. He meandered back in fifteen minutes and quickly disappeared into the shrubs that lined the driveway.

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Sexy girls in yoga shorts After changing shoes and waiting another ten minutes, he pulled on a black watch cap and cautiously approached the house. Even though he moved slowly at the edge of its range, an outside motion sensor situated by the house still caused an additional security light to come on.

Then he walked less than fifteen feet over to the garage and peered in a window that was hidden from view from the street. He took a good look at the security system inside. It was fairly rudimentary, but still effective. There were contact pads, small, rectangular things, on the door into the home and on all of the windows.

They had wires the size and color of spaghetti carelessly tacked all along the bottoms of the windows, and the wires came together in a metal box mounted on the wall next to a door that probably led into either the mud room or the kitchen. The alarm box had a small key pad and two small lights. There was a red one labeled armed and a green one labeled unarmed. There were no separate zones.

No motion sensors. It was a crude perimeter fence only. He closed the window behind him and looked at everything again. Her garage door opener on the ceiling sported two lights; he unscrewed both, then closed the entry window and removed the additional wire that had allowed him to break in without setting off an alarm.

The man patiently settled down in the right hand corner of the garage behind a large lawn mower parked near the garage door and prepared to wait. It was raining harder now and he was pretty sure she would open the garage door and just drive right on in. If she did somehow see him in the darkness, he would be able to make his escape through the open garage door long before she could get the police onsite.

He waited patiently. Finally, the moment arrived and time twisted around itself in that manner peculiar to anticipation and excitement, infinitely extending itself in the perception of the man who waited. The garage was lit up from outside by a car on the drive and then the garage door noisily cranked open; the engine noise grew suddenly louder. But even though the interior garage lights never came on, the unsuspecting slut drove inside anyway.

Her vision to the side was poor, the windows and side view mirrors were beaded with water. As the car slowly passed him, the man rose to a low crouch and moved behind the right rear bumper remaining below the level of the car trunk and listening to the sounds of the garage door as it closed behind him.

The brake lights flashed suddenly and then the garage went dark when she turned her headlights off. For the first time, he could sense that she suddenly had realized that the garage was unexpectedly dark. He became aware of the beating of his heart, feeling the loud thumps that came too close together to be normal.

He felt so obvious; discovery seemed impossible to avoid. Hunched over so low that he was almost on all fours, the man moved silently around the side of the car to and up to the right front fender where he silently waited. The woman for whom he had come finally exited the car with a soft muttered curse and left her car door open for a moment, then froze as she looked at the house door.

Not strictly drunk, it appeared she still had a good buzz on. It was difficult to remember not to hold his breath. The man breathed shallowly, quietly, as he moved slowly around the front of the car next to the left front headlights and then crouched again, making each move slow, methodical, silent; doing his best to keep his heart rate down.

It was not distracting that he could hear, or feel, each beat of his heart now. It was just part of the environment of the garage, his own perfect metronome. Like a hunter, he paused in front of the car. But he was still careful. Luck could take you a lot of places, but She could never be trusted to stay in your bed once you got her there.

Jamie had been chiding herself about it all afternoon; the feeling of low level…. But she was tired and her feet hurt; home and bed waited. She punched the garage door opener again to shut the door and turned slowly in her seat and looked out the left side view mirror. She could barely make out the inside surface of the closing garage door, but there was a thin light on the garage floor coming from under the door into her home.

Nothing wrong, but she was still filled with the slightest touch of free-floating anxiety. Jamie unlocked the car doors, wincing at the suddenly loud noise. Feeling exposed and rather silly at the same time, she pushed the door shut, trying to make no noise. This was acceptable because the interior light stayed on for at least another minute. There were two dim shapes that looked very much like shoes standing inside right by the door, the door to her home.

Jamie reached inside her purse, held her breath and then closed her eyes. Look again. Do it. She looked again. She bent further down, scanning the entire crack. Standing by the car door now, she had to hang on to the door handle because her legs were suddenly trembling so badly.

She stared hard at the sliver of light that came from under the door. Was there someone inside her home? She slowly backed away from the door towards the front of her car, keeping her right hand in her purse. Jamie slowly sank to one knee to look under the door.

His prey still had not sensed his presence. Suddenly, still looking at the door, with a soft click-clack of high heels on concrete, she mumbled softly under her breath as she backed towards him and then crouched to her knees by the left fender of her car not three feet from him; crouching in order to peer under the bottom of the door that led into her home. Her moving towards his place of concealment was an incredible coincidence, but he was more than willing to take advantage of it.

She knelt down even further and her attacker paused again, listening for any indication of further movement from the woman. How far was he away from the corner of the car? How far was she? Was she watching? Was she waiting? Had she heard something? Which way was she looking? Now he moved again too. And as he slowly stood upright so that he towered over the woman that faced away from him, he felt that first major burst of adrenaline, a quickening of the senses that lightened his arms and chest.

But he refused to let the feeling take full control of him. Another soft step and he had fully left the cover of her vehicle and he towered over the kneeling woman. Only more left to take. Moving as lightly as he could, his shoes were noiseless on the cold concrete. He trained the stun gun on the neck exposed above this space, his mind a sudden spin of instinct and calculation.

He had imagined this moment for hours, but suddenly he was uncertain. Then she stood to open the door into her home and the decision was made for him. She rose to her feet, and then froze. The soft hairs on the back of her neck had suddenly prickled while all her random fears crowded in all at once. A charge of panic ran up her spine at a soft scurrying sound behind her. Her hand was coming out of her purse with the small 32 caliber pistol she was licensed to carry there, but before she could turn, she was literally paralyzed by a massive electrical shock and suddenly saw stars.

Suddenly his prey stood upright and froze. Somehow she knew, but she had no time for defense and it was remarkably easy to make one lunging move from behind and take her — the poor little thing never knew what hit her. After one pitiful moan, her purse dropped with a clunk, beating her to floor by less than a second. The blonde TV whore was his.

It may have been dark outside, but he suddenly felt lighter inside. It was time for the games to begin. It was a matter of just moments to strip the blazer off, zip cuff her wrists behind her back and then gag her. The man put the black cotton bag he had lightly sprayed with chloroform over her head and carried Jamie to the back of her car. He popped the car trunk, put her pound frame and cast-off blazer inside, then tied her elbows, ankles, knees together and finished by tying her ankles to her wrists in a nice, tight reverse hog tie.

Jamie lay in the dark, unable to move, mind paralyzed with fear, muscles paralyzed by a massive jolt of electricity. So close to safety, yet so far away too when someone had rushed at her from behind. Then to her fearful astonishment, there had been that terrible shocking pain that had literally left her paralyzed.

Her eyes had been flecked with a million exploding stars and searing heat had run down the back of her neck, and though she had tried, it had been impossible to scream. She knew instinctively that this person was the cause of her paralysis, not her savior. Then her arms were roughly pulled behind her back, her wrists bound and something, tape perhaps, placed over her lips and mouth.

Finally, she felt something heavy and cold and wet, and which smelled like a hospital, cover her face. She was lowered into something and then tied, elbows, knees and ankles, in an incredibly painful and completely debilitating backward arching position. Her brain flooded with pain messages, each one felt with horrible clarity.

The sickly sweet smell made it difficult to breathe, but it was her vision that went first. It got full of mad whirling silver shapes that flashed horizontally right to left. Like a fairground ride running a thousand times too fast. Then she began to see a sequence of crazy dreams, urgent and breathless and vivid.

Full of action and color. Afterwards, she realized that the start of the dreams marked the point where she had officially lost consciousness, lying in the trunk of her car. Still wearing gloves, the man screwed the garage lights back in and then went to her dropped purse. He bent over and felt a sudden chill go up his spine as he saw the snub-nosed pistol half out of the purse on the floor.

The bitch had a pistol. Suddenly furious, he lunged back to the trunk of the car on legs stiff with anger and proceeded to hit the arrogant bitch in the belly a couple of times. Still feeling angry, and truth be told, a little lucky at the same time, he shook out his rain coat and removed his shoes before he went into her home carrying her small purse.

With what he saw, he could make some informed assumptions about her. She was neat, but not fastidious, and preferred couturiers to department stores. She was medium on top and long in the legs despite her height. Jamie and her husband had definitely liked to play erotic games at one time, but not anymore? That was more than fine with him. Grabbing a spare pillow case, he gathered up a few of the things he liked the most and took them with him.

Clearly, they paid the bitch too much money. He grabbed a ruffled, dusty-rose Antonio Berardi mini-dress, a short grey Valentino Couture tunic, a short red Carolina Herrera frock, a black above-the-knee Dolce and Gabbana cocktail dress, a short and strapless soft pink Azzaro dress, and finished his acquisitions with a simple black Jill Sander evening gown.

And then there were a couple of nice teddies, a corset and a cupless bustier. For heels, he grabbed a pair of red Brian Atwood pumps, black and red pairs of Christian Louboutin strappy stilettos and peep toes, and a pair of light grey Atwood pumps. The lot was still dark and with the two cars parked back to back, it was easy to unobtrusively transfer the unresisting woman and booty into his car trunk.

It would appear to her husband and police that she had come home and then disappeared, perhaps of her own accord. He had left no fingerprints and there no signs of break-in except for a couple of missing dresses and two minor cuts on the alarm wires on one garage window. The only real evidence that might indicate she had been taken was in trunk of her car; and would only become apparent if they thought to do a detailed forensic analysis.

Of course, there was mud outside, but if they looked for footprints and found any, none would fit him since he had cut off the soles of shoes about three sizes too small and glued them to shoes that actually fit him. By the way, the forensic guys were better than he had expected and immediately found his footprints. When the man got back to his car in another fifteen minutes, Jamie was surfing between unconsciousness and short periods of semi-consciousness.

Jamie had finally regained full consciousness by the time her captor parked his car. Secondary crime scenes were where the criminals did all the really nasty stuff to their victims. He untied her ankles from her wrists, then removed her ankle and knee bindings, but left her wrists cuffed behind her back and elbows still tied together.

He helped her out of the car trunk, but she was in agony from the reviving flow of blood to her arms and legs. She could barely stand by herself and even though it made her skin crawl, she had to lean heavily against the man for assistance. She tried to make one short protest, but nothing came out because of the gag. But he hit her once in the stomach anyway, just to be cruel.

After that, she remained silent. There were no eyeholes. She could see light and blurred shapes through the loosely woven hood, but nothing else. Every time she inhaled, the air was a little fresher but the hood then flattened against her face. It was different from the first one and smelled of industrial-strength laundry soap.

It was one of the few times in her life that she felt totally dependent upon a man, a man that had just kidnapped her. The kidnapper led her from the car. Commands came now, turn left here, up three steps, turn right here. Now in another room, he finally removed the cotton bag that covered her head. Jamie took one quick look around. The fully clothed monster had a loose black cotton hood over his head to hide his identity, but his eyes were still visible.

The man stepped back and looked at her again. It was a studied, staring, lascivious appraisal, from her shoes to her mussed hair, point by point, as if sizing up a piece of meat……or a whore. He finished by staring intently at her breasts. God, she was scared…. She knew she was still in the city, but the room was too quiet; it had probably been sound-proofed.

There were several mannequin heads in one corner, just as in her dressing room at work where they were used to air out and display wigs. But here, each sported a different type of leather or rubber hood. The walls were lined with a complete array of sex toys and other….

She peered to the side and could see into a small room in one corner and realized that there were two beds; one was a queen-sized bed here with them in the main room and in the second there was a futon that had been spread out in the small, corner room.

He slapped her face with a strong right hand for her boldness and then stepped in with his other arm extended and suddenly she blacked out again from stun gun she had not even seen. Jamie surfaced a second time in total darkness, surrounded by the strong smell of rubber. It felt as if there was a cloth or bandage pressed against her eyelids and a strap or tape of some kind wrapped around her head to hold the bandages in place.

She was on her back, her hands and feet bound. There was even a small patch of tape over her mouth, but mercifully, a small hole had been cut in the area around her lips. She could breathe through her nose and partially through her mouth. She felt herself being dragged now with no pretense of gentleness; this was immediately followed by the sense of falling and then the shock of icy cold water on her face.

She somehow knew she was in a body bag that had been thrown into water. Just as she forced her face up to the small slit that had been left unzipped, the bag rolled, submerging her face in cold, but not quite freezing water. Jamie fought rising panic, even as the smell of wet rubber grew stronger and stronger. Cold water had trickled down the front of her body, and she was simultaneously freezing and sweating.

She felt real terror. How was she going to breathe? She arched her body and her face surfaced again. She inhaled great lungfuls of air through her nose. Suddenly her face went under water again just as she finished inhaling. When she came up this time, she coughed into her gag. Burning stomach acid came up into her mouth and then out one of her nostrils.

Soon, the body bag was half full of water and she floated low as the little air trapped inside the body bag puddled around her shoulders and kept her head upright. Still clothed, she rolled helplessly in the bag, her face alternatively submerged and then free. The level of freezing water continually rose higher inside the bag, eventually rising above the level of her breasts.

The bag dipped under the surface of the water again and again, and more poured in around her face, each time the fresh cold shocking her and taking away her ability to breathe. She was absolutely terrified now. The panic never went away and no matter how much she tried to calm down, her heart raced and her lungs screamed for more air, more air.

She was freezing, exhausted, ready to give up and drown, but the feeling of sheer terror still never left. Suddenly, after an eternity of almost drowning in the freezing water, the heavy, sopping-wet bag was pulled out. She was held upright by her immensely strong captor and the bag unzipped, allowing the water captured inside to drain away.

The tape was removed from around her eyes for just a moment and the bag pulled away from her shaking, goose-bump prickled body. Before he hooded her again, she realized that she was standing in a dark garage in a puddle of freezing water next to a small above-ground pool, shaking with a cold that had chilled her to the bone.

Small amounts of steam rose from the water so it was definitely warmer than the air around it, but it was still far too cold to withstand for very long. Her skin and hair were wet, her legs shook; her body ached and she felt too stiff to move. Even though her skin was icy cold to the touch, she was somehow sweating too.

At least it was warmer inside, and even though she felt permanently frozen, she knew she would finally warm here, even though it might take a little time. Impatient, he now pulled off the wet cotton hood and began to pull a full-head leather hood over her wet and freezing head.

With horror, Jamie realized that Velcro patches covered the mouth and eyes of the hood. She was shaking from the cold, her wet hair still smelled of chloroform and wet rubber, but she still struggled weakly against him as he pulled it over her head. In the end though, she was a small woman, exhausted and freezing, and he handled her easily. Before he pulled the new hood all of the way down over her head, he leaned over and fiercely whispered in her ear that she needed to be quiet.

Her teeth chattered and clicked with the cold and exhaustion now, making her unable to say a word. Then he emphasized his command by rapping her hard on the back of her skull. On top of torturing her, he seemed also perpetually angry about something, and she was paying the price for his anger. He finished hooding her, then forced her jaws open and gagged her again before he fastened the eye covers, this time using a professional gag.

A lost opportunity, you stupid bitch he whispered into her other ear when he had finished. More uncontrollable chills ran down her spine as he whispered in the first ear: If you were the type of woman that knew how to be a woman, were a woman that did exactly what she was told to do, things would go more easily for you. The eyeholes in the leather helmet were covered and she was blind.

Too, the helmet cut down on her hearing. The only thing that kept her warm was the thought of how long he would be sentenced to prison for this. And for that to happen, she had to try to remember as much as she could. His build, his voice, any sounds that might come from outside. She had to keep thinking that no matter how bad it got, he would always release her in the end.

Then all rational thought fled as she felt him begin to cut off her sodden clothing with a knife, felt his fingers going to her blouse, to the buttons on her chest. Her bowels turned to frozen water and for the first time, she really feared for her life. Suddenly, she was filled with rage. She wanted to be tall, to overwhelm this man with the force of her rage, but she felt that first primal urge rising in her again, the desire to cower and shrink from his gaze.

Nearly naked before this man, naked and blind, she had never felt weaker. After a moment, she began a hopeless struggle. Then she received another massive blow to the stomach. Retching, trying not to vomit into the gag, Jamie crouched over protectively, frozen in her pain and misery.

Then he forced her upright once more as his hands began to touch her again, all over her body. Examining the small of her back, her armpits. There was a pause. Still nothing. She shuddered in fear and disgust. Soaking wet bra removed, he tied her elbows tightly together again. Next he slowly cut off her jeans.

Then two male hands were pulling her soaking panties down around her ankles, exposing her entirely. Reflexively, she tried to cover herself, but he quickly pulled her upright with brutally powerful hands that squeezed her arms too hard for too long. He liked to hurt her, he was too strong to deny and she now stood upright as he demanded, uncovered. He now rubbed her skin, quickly, efficiently, bringing the blood flowing back to her extremities; the pain of returning blood was exquisite, horrible.

She wanted to be strong, but still fought the urge to weep as she stood in nothing but her wet heels. To deny him her tears, that was her only resistance now. But it was so hard to hold them back. She knew this might be the end, here, now; knew it so deeply and so well that when her jeans had gone down and her panties immediately followed and she had then felt his manhood, large and hard against her thigh, everything swirled and she nearly fainted with the knowledge.

Warmer now, but still naked except for her heels and the sensory-depriving helmet, Jamie felt herself pushed to the floor, forced to kneel on what felt like a mat made of coarse hemp fibers. The rough and prickly material bit at her flesh as she knelt for what seemed hours on bared knees, but which in reality must have been only minutes.

The man tied the rope to something on the top of the leather hood and pulled it so tight that her head was bowed down almost between her knees. She was bound and there was nothing she could do about it. But nothing she did helped and she thought for the second time tonight that she might suffocate and pass out, might even die here and now.

The man slowly circled the bound woman as he savored his victory. The hooded bitch knelt on the rough mat in what would become her cell. The kidnapped woman had an absolutely gorgeous body. High firm breasts that were larger than one might expect from her build…possibly implants. Nicely shapely thighs and a pair of killer calves.

Tight, cold skin that had a lot of goose bumps right now but which would eventually warm up, firm hips and buttocks without saddlebags or a trace of cellulite. Flat belly and tiny waist. Pubic area and legs waxed. The male voice was close beside her now, so close he seemed almost inside her head despite the blanketing helmet.

YOU had a gun, you bitch! Your empty souls need purpose, discipline. And when, in only a few more hours you are broken, when you are finally ready for me, I am going to mount you like a fucking baboon……I swear I will. And you will at that time have learned to respond, in every way , to make me happy.

Mentally, she was still devastated by her time in the body bag, but his tone, his words, the visions they engendered brought on an even more overwhelming sense of frailty and her doom. Suddenly, Jamie felt a series of light to medium, yet sharp blows on her back and upper buttocks followed by the rope that bound her into a bow being untied and then tugged upwards.

Jamie tried to struggle to her feet in her stilettos, but her captor slapped her on the side of the head and without saying a word pushed her back down to her knees. He pulled on the rope again and she tried to struggle up to her feet, only to be slapped and pushed down again, but even harder this time. Every time she tried to obey his unspoken command to rise, he pushed her down again and hit her a little harder.

He was crazy — why did he do these things, what did he want? He knew she was an emotional bully to those that worked with and for her. And like all bullies, she could dish out the punishment, but found it hard to take herself. She was already more submissive at this point than he had imagined she might be, but this did not necessarily please him.

The more she seemed to accept her fate early on, the more she took on the psychology of a victim. But perversely, the more she submitted in the very beginning, the more he wanted to punish her, to make her pay for not being stronger, for not fighting him more. The kidnapper led a blind, wobbly, still cold Jamie out of her cell towards two floor-to-ceiling wooden timbers located in the center of the room.

Again, he became more frustrated with her meekness as he strapped her in so high with wrist restraints that only her toes touched the floor. It really was as if she were resigned to what they both knew was going to take place. The adrenaline had kicked in and the anticipatory excitement had grabbed him.

While this place had once been part of an old factory, now the two of them were about to enter a world here that he had spent a long time creating. It was a world that was entirely his, a world he had built and had now peopled with the first of his temporary ladies. The man looked on in silence at the woman he had kidnapped. He felt like a god…. Her wrists were tied above her head to either side.

Horribly, Jamie felt him spread her legs wide as he strapped her ankles a grotesque distance apart to each side. She was helpless now, helpless and horribly exposed sexually. He used his hands in a soft cupping motion and soon she felt her nipples harden despite, or perhaps because of her fear.

Suddenly, there was a burning, crushing pain in her right nipple, followed a minute later by the same pain in her left. Jamie shook her head back and forth, and she felt sweat break out all over her body, but somehow she kept silent. It was only after her nipples had been pulled painfully towards each other and then pulled steadily and agonizingly downward did she really begin to scream into her gag.

Now the terrible man that had kidnapped her began to run something both prickly and piercingly sharp all over her body. It went everywhere, front and back, between her legs and breasts, everywhere. The tiny but incredibly intense points of continuously piercing pain made her nervous system feel as if it were being overloaded. Jamie was crying out almost constantly now, but her moans and screams were still muffled by the gag that completely filled her mouth.

Her slowly warming body was shuddering all over and her beautiful chest was heaving for air as she tried to breathe through her nose. She continued to struggle uselessly against the bonds that held her hands and ankles in place, but already her struggles had lessened as her strength gave out. Jamie screamed, but no one heard her…. Her screams were like paper cuts — sharp, deep…….

And they never stopped. God damn, she was gorgeous! The man knew he was slowly taking this beautiful young woman apart, one beautiful nerve ending after another. But there was no hesitation in his moves for he totally fucking loved what he was doing to the arrogant bitch! She certainly deserved anything he did to her.

He had so looked forward to this moment and there was nothing she could do about it, no matter how hard she shrieked for his mercy. Each one was made out of chromed metal and looked like a miniature church dome or the top of a church bell. But because the bell-shape was more strongly curved than the tip of her breasts, the end stood out from her nipples. Thus, the device was always pulling on the nipples, stretching the clamped flesh towards the end of the cup that stood off from the breast.

The TV bitch wriggled desperately, helplessly, but could not prevent the clips from painfully biting onto her nipples and then pulling on them, stretching them out as they became the sole piece of skin by which the cups were clamped so tightly against her breasts. After another minute of struggles, she let out a little moan, and despite his current anger towards her, he could feel himself harden at the muffled sounds the helpless woman was making.

The man did this four different times and when he had finally finished, her firm little clit stood out like a female erection while her beautiful flesh was dotted with too many tiny pin pricks to count, many leaking their own miniscule drops of blood or serous fluid. At the end, her skin shone like the canvas of an artist, wet and slick with the residue of sweat and the tiny rivulets of blood which had coalesced from the multitude of tiny piercings that now laced her arms and legs and belly.

He crooked left hand and put it under his right elbow. His right hand cupped his chin as he tilted his head to view the captive slut. She might be getting bored , he thought to himself; time to change stimuli. The bound woman acted almost grateful at the first blow of the flog.

Perhaps, he smiled; she might be one of those whores that really got into this sort of thing. Once, twice, and then came a barrage of light to medium blows, each adding to the pattern of light welts that already crisscrossed the soft skin of her belly and groin and high on the insides her thighs. He listened to her muffled screams. Then he finished her off with a quick flurry of unmerciful blows just to get the job done….

The cries that emanated from under the mask built towards a softened crescendo that inarticulately begged for mercy, but there was none for the TV whore that night. The kidnapped woman hung motionless from her bonds now even as his continually increasing disgust for her submissive femininity seemed to all but overwhelm him.

He beat her harder now than he had originally planned and suddenly she began to squirm and struggle again, for somehow she had found new reserves of strength to pull against the leather and steel that held her arms and legs locked in place, bindings that had allowed the agony to accumulate inside her.

At the end, filled with frustration and disgust, he spat on her naked, bloody body, his chest heaving with his previous effort. She wanted nothing more than to escape from the pain, but for once in her young life, a man she could not control, could not intimidate or stop, had taken control of everything.

Tears were streaming from her eyes under the leather mask, for her beating had now turned into a primitive symphony of pain as his leather straps caressed her soft flesh over and over again. He had finally stopped and she took the moment to try and catch her breath. Suddenly, she sensed him standing near her and somehow knew he had returned.

He grabbed her head and pulled it down and forward, putting the back of her head into his armpit and pushing her chin onto her chest. Her head was immobilized and she felt like she would suffocate. With his other hand, he pulled the back of the leather helmet up off of her neck and suddenly she felt a terrible burning pain just below her hairline on the nape of her neck.

Jamie bucked like a manic horse, but to no avail for he was far too strong. The pain was shocking! She could smell burning hair and flesh, and knew it was hers. She fought back the urge to vomit. Women like you are nothing more than cattle. And like any other piece of property, you need to be branded to show ownership.

Dimly, Jamie felt herself being released and carried a short distance, only to be thrown on the full sized bed. She could barely move and remained motionless as she was forcibly spread-eagled; her wrists and ankles bound to corner bedposts so that she was totally helpless.

Despite her mind floating away from her body, she was exquisitely aware of the man finally releasing whatever he had clamped onto her nipples. She screamed in pain again as the blood began to return to her nipples and semi-fainted. But he was not finished.

First on her legs…and then between them…. His touch was feather light, yet compelling as death. Jamie thought her heart would stop as she thrashed violently against her bonds as he touched her sweaty, bloodied skin over and over again. Her body shook and twitched with each of his terrible caresses, but her mind seemed to have temporarily departed her body.

Finally, he just began to touch her without hurting her. One hand went to her throat and he squeezed, while his other hand roamed over her body, pinching and pulling. She pushed against her bonds and against him with all her strength, with such desperate exertion that she was immediately gasping for air, each breath a sobbing inhalation through just her nostrils.

She had never in her life known she could struggle like this physically, but she was still as helpless as a newborn babe under his touch. Suddenly, he lay heavily upon her and she grunted with the impact. He wedged himself between her widespread thighs and then shifted again.

Now came the moment she had dreaded but had also immediately known as a woman they would eventually arrive at together. He was quite strong and very heavy; he was masculine and big and he entered her unprepared body with shocking ferocity, complete mastery and total finality. And it felt nothing like what she had imagined it would. She felt crushed, his weight was too much and she could barely breathe.

But his energy and stamina were immense. He was hot and big and filled her in a way she had never before known. In addition to being filled with hot rage, Jamie was also disgusted, disgusted at her sexual vulnerability and feminine weakness, at being dominated by this man, being forced to accept him as her sexual partner, inside her body. She hated the helplessness of lying beneath him, bound in place for him, while he did whatever he wanted to her, and there truly was nothing she could do to stop him.

Jamie lay motionless beneath him, trying only to breathe as she denied him any pleasure he otherwise feel. Her only moves were an occasional moan or cry of pain at a particularly vicious or violently deep thrust. A totally unfeeling monster, he took everything from her, leaving her nothing but an empty shell in return. She would never trust another man again; never look another man in the face without remembering what this man had done to her….

She was being sexually….. She hated being mentally strong and physically weak. He had stolen the two things from her that she could never get back — her dignity and pride in her femininity. Not a marathon man, he quickly achieved orgasm and she felt a further sense of revulsion and bone-deep disgust at the first scalding-hot jet of his silky fluid as it washed the insides of her vagina.

Multiple lava-like injections later, he was satisfied. When he had finished, he rested for a moment and finally rolled off of her body, then patted her head in satisfaction and relaxed gratitude like one would a favorite dog. And in the end, all she had left was her vagina filled with his stinking semen.

He left her lying on the bed, mute and bound and blind, beaten and naked, raped and exhausted, having experienced a torture that thankfully only a few women must undergo. He came back and untied her after an hour, or perhaps it had been an eternity, for she had literally lost track of all time.

When Jamie reached the cell, he insisted it must be she that removed the hood. He treated it like a game and she as if mentally deficient. Under his constant derisive directions, a still hooded Jamie crawled blindly to the futon in her room like a mindless slug, nothing but a despicably weak and primitive creature totally controlled by a stronger, yet even more primitive organism.

During this humiliating journey, she felt the smooth wooden floor beneath her knees and his cold bodily fluids as they drained from within her. And as her strength finally began to give out and she approached physical collapse, the floor first bruised her elbows as she fell from her hands and knees, and then finally it was pressed against the skin of her cheek.

But she still she would not allow him to win and continued to crawl like a weakened and abused snake. After endless crawling in a stygian blackness, Jamie finally reached her cell. Under his constant direction and gloating jibes, she slowly, painfully removed the gag and the hood, this followed by her heels. He stepped back with a smile and it was then that she could see for the first time what he had done to her body.

And while her nipples felt bruised and stretched beyond belief, her face and breasts had been left untouched by the whip, but her ass, lower back, upper thighs and belly were a mass of crisscrossing light red welts. Her arms and legs twitched uncontrollably now the whole time, and a slow whine began in her throat and her breath hitched as started crying in long deep sobs.

No crying. Not a fucking sound! Nothing until then!! There were hundreds, if not thousands of tiny, tiny pinpricks all over her body. And there were red marks on her belly and between her legs where he had used something electrical to shock her. She tentatively felt the back of her neck near her hairline, and after a moment realized that the brand, while still terribly painful, was smaller than she had first thought.

But for the first time in her memory, she no longer cared about her looks. The waves of helplessness and shame and pain and even guilt that she had briefly experienced earlier now washed over her once more, but this time their all-engulfing nature threatened her sanity. She should have been able to stop him.

It was all her fault. She deserved everything he did to her. And with that last thought, Jamie felt that her world had come to an end. But even the lowest among us tries to survive. Jamie looked around once. It was a small room. The door had an electronic key pad on both sides. It was adequately warm inside and well lit, and contained a stall shower, a toilet, a sink and a futon with a light quilt.

The whole room measured about four or five meters square. There was an obvious security camera mounted in one corner that her captor had not even discretely hidden. She tried to study him unobtrusively, using only quick glances from the corner of her eyes. He was hyper-masculine; a young, big, heavily muscled white man and wore only his hood and a pair of skin tight black leotards that he had just pulled back on after raping her.

He was flaccid at this point, at least for now, for he had just satisfied himself with her body. But he was still large and showed fully masculine contours under the tight clothing. He was taller than average and had a thickly muscled torso. An expansive rib cage below wide-spread shoulders and a solid abdominal wall that rose like the wall of a fortress; it all was matched in proportion by the rest of his body.

The sweat on his flat belly was dry and his flat, heavily muscled stomach was streaked red with her blood. Next to him, she looked like a child suffering from malnutrition. All of this added a solid presence to his power over her. The back of her neck was knotted with such anxiety that she could not think rationally.

She hated the psychological boundaries of the setting, for he looked like an executioner from hundreds of years ago, and in every way that counted, Jamie somehow knew that she had become the victim and he thought himself her new master. Somehow it seemed they both felt that she would in the end do anything he wanted, that she would give him everything she held of value just to survive.

The kidnapper looked down on the wreck of a woman he had just taken so thoroughly and felt nothing but contentment. The gleam of I showed you, you nasty bitch satisfaction showed through the temporary fatigue on his face. There was nothing, he thought to himself, nothing like using an unwilling woman in terrible ways to make a man feel, well….

He shook his head. There was just something about controlling an exceptionally good looking woman that brought out the worst in him. He finished treating the multitude of tiny puncture wounds on her skin with a thin veneer of antibiotic cream and then left her with a couple of raw potatoes and an apple for dinner, alone to ponder her fate for the rest of the night.

She tried to not look at him as he cleaned her up, but that was impossible. He moved purposefully, his body language contradictory; soothing care alternating with anger and a fierce projection of his dominance over her. His voice had stopped her for a second. There was no harshness in it, at least for now, even as he treated the damage he had caused; no kindness either or surprise at how far it had gone.

His eyes behind the hood had almost no color; there was nothing to judge them by. But soon their time together was over and he was gone. Eventually the dark waves came back and her mind succumbed again to the almost drug-like need to shut down. He was gone now and she felt a little safer, at least for the moment.

Slowly, awkwardly, painfully, she rose from the futon and drank from the faucet. Jamie touched her new brand one more time as she lay down on the bed, then she covered her chest with one arm and put her other hand between her legs, before crying herself to sleep. Her body convulsed and she hiccupped one last time. Visions and memories of the last couple of hours hovered behind her eyes, a raw reminder of how bad a turn her life had just taken.

Jamie did not sleep well, but she did not re-surface that night either. Jamie remembered lying on the futon last night, trembling, going from cold to hot and back again; staring at the walls in a complete state of shock. She was married, her husband traveled a lot, and they had come to some basic agreements about their relationship. But she had never dreamed she could be kidnapped in Boston, tortured and then held captive as a sex object.

She began to sob softly again. Her kidnapper was a terrible maniac and she was so afraid. Startled, she looked up and saw the executioner standing over her again with his arms crossed over his massive chest. His harshly sculpted face below the mask bore a shadow of a beard. He was as tall and strongly built as she remembered from last night, and his nipples stuck out from his lightly furred chest like beads.

Her lower lip quivered and her eyes teared as she remembered being tortured and…raped…. The rape….. He continued to silently look down on her but she was too frightened at first to move. His terrible, icy silent presence enveloped her; she felt its breath go right through her, coursing through her body like a thick, invisible mist.

Suddenly shivering in fear, Jamie felt totally alone, so vulnerable that she became dizzy. Before her, a bottomless pit was opening, her body, her veins were freezing. She wanted to die. He gave her five minutes, just enough time. When she came back, he threw her roughly on the mattress. She dropped to her knees and then lay on her side. Suddenly, he was on the bed, his knees straddling her body, pinning her.

Too late, she saw that there was a new outfit on the bed cushion. In a quick move, the masked man was on the pad, turning her over, putting his legs on either side of her body, trapping her arms with the bedcover wrapped over on her back. She fought a little until his left hand suddenly filled with her hair; he pulled back roughly on her head and his right hand slapped her hard on the cheek.

Jamie felt all her strength suddenly leave as she went boneless and still. He grabbed her lower jaw and then forced in a large black rubber ball gag he had ready. First off the stack of items on the mattress was a blindfold that he slipped over her eyes, followed by a piece of tape that locked the gag in her mouth. By this time, she was fighting him again. Gabriel Dalessandro should have thought twice before marrying busty vixen Sienna West.

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