part 5....the torture continues..
When I saw the small black box with the buttons and dials in his
hands when he re-emerged I nearly lost it again. By itself, the box
wouldn't have sparked any recognition; however it was the two wires
dangling from this box that caused me to stiffen and
scream "NOOOO!!", gagged or not. I knew what this was since he'd
tormented me with pictures of this particular torture. He intended to
torture me next with electric shock. Omigod!, I thought frantically.
He can't!! It was just too horrifying.....probably dangerous!
Dave grinned again, no doubt gratified by my reaction. I was
shaking my head violently, uselessly struggling, nearly crying and
trying to make eye contact.
"Wow!", he exlaimed happily, "I just love those pleading
eyes!"
I couldn't continue the eye-pleading because he kneeled
before me and was gently licking my right nipple. Just when I
thought it was going to be ok, that he was only trying to scare me
with the electricity thing, he stopped licking, placed one of those
wires against the now wet nipple and said, "Wet nipple...good
conductor", as he placed a piece of duct tape over my breast,
effectively holding the wire in place. I moaned and slumped in
defeat as he did the same to my left nipple.
"This is going to be so much fun!", he exclaimed as he picked
up the box and began messing with some dials, "well....fun for me
anyway", he amended
I was whimpering, scared to death, as he messed with those
dials.
"Can you feel that?", he asked. I felt nothing so far
except for the pounding of my heart. I considered pretending, but
was sure I'd never get away with it. Before I could answer at all,
however, he did something different with the controls and I made a
startled sound when I did feel something. It's hard to
describe...the closest I can get is that it felt something like a
vibration....a warming vibration. It did startle me, but I was very
relieved that it didn't hurt.
"Oh cool!! That one makes you go mmmph!" Scared as I was I
couldn't help feeling some amusement. I mean, he looked so cute when
he said that.
"That's the lowest current by the way". My urge to laugh was
quite suddenly gone. After a few more mild shocks, which made me
squirm, I felt another that made me stiffen and squeal into the gag.
"Yep, that one's higher. I think you can take the highest
one now"
I was shaking my head desperately again until it was thrown
back against the chair I was tied to. That one indeed felt much more
powerful. Dave, of course, was delighted.
"Now, let's try this"
He pulled a plug out of the box. This plug happened to be
the other end of the wires that were taped to me. He then informed
me that he was turning the current up all the way to the highest
setting again. Gleefully he shoved the plug back into the box.
This time it felt like sparks were exploding against my nipples; the
current shooting thru my body drove me back against the chair so hard
that the front legs rose above the floor.
"Oh this is FUN!! I could do this for hours!"
I'm quite sure it wasn't hours, but he did shock my tits for
quite a while, and every time on the highest setting. Over and over
the maniac would dramatically plunge the end plug of my wires into
its hole in the box and smile widely with sadistic happiness as I
jerked violently, nearly overturning the chair that held me helpless,
my body stiffening with the current running thru me until he
unplugged it again. I was starting to beg (muffled of course) every
time the current stopped. "Please STOP Pleeeeaase STOP oh no more
Pleeeeease!!!" is about all I could manage, and muffled or not, the
pleading tone in my voice couldn't be missed. Then he would shock me
again. And again.... and again. He even taunted me by assuring me
he'd stop if he saw smoke or smelled me cooking.
I mentioned how he smiled....laughed even. That was one of
the most frightening things about the whole ordeal. His smiles were
chilling because they were so genuine. There were no fake evil
smiles or laughs....he wasn't playing a part. He was truly enjoying
my suffering; a fact he'll admit freely to this very day.
Periodically, he would stop shocking me, kneel closer to me
and gently stroke my damp hair away from my sweaty face. He would
caress my hair and face and look at me kindly with what seemed to be
genuine affection. During these small breaks I would sometimes try
to plead some more, but he would smile at me lovingly, then go right
back to shocking me. After a while I gave up pleading. It was doing
no good anyway.
Being shocked repeatedly like that was horrific; electric
shock is an odd kind of pain. Not sharp like the clamps, but much
scarier...much more violent. The initial shock to the nipples hurt
of course, but the current coursing thru my body was much worse. Not
conventionally painful, but powerful....terrifying. Each time I
jerked, was thrown into the chair, or felt my body stiffen I felt
like a puppet. I was being moved and manipulated by a force outside
myself--helpless to stop it
Just when I was sure I would lose my sanity if this continued
he finally tired of this game--maybe because I'd stopped pleading and
merely slumped forward between shocks, moaning softly. I watched
dully as he slowly peeled the tape off each breast and removed the
wires. He was talking to me as he did.
"Well, this has been really fun...but it occurs to me that
I've been doing all the work"
Poor baby, I thought sardonically. But I knew where this was
leading--in fact I'd expected it much sooner. He untied me from the
hated chair, removed my gag, gave me another sip of water, then
ordered me to get up. It was rather difficult since my wrists were
still cuffed behind me, throwing off my balance. Impatiently he
hauled me up by one arm, cursing, pulling me over till we were both
standing beside the bed, then ordered me to my knees. I dropped to
them rather awkwardly and before I even had my bearings, he'd
released his erection and it was in my face.
"Suck it", he commanded. I don't know if he was expecting an
argument or not, but he was probably surprised by how quickly I bent
to my task.
"Yeah...you're a whore, you know what to do", he encouraged
as I tentatively licked the head and the shaft, then took it into my
mouth. I did these things almost eagerly. See, everything he'd done
to me so far was so way out, scary and so different from anything I'd
ever known or wanted to know that a forced blowjob didn't seem so bad
at this point. Giving head was at least familiar to me. Of course,
he even had to make that different by taking more pictures. I didn't
relish the idea of there being pictures of me doing this, but it was
out of my hands.
I heard clothes being removed quickly...urgently. I paused
what I was doing and caught his eye as he wrenched his remaining
clothes from his body impatiently. He had a wild look in his eyes
and before I knew it, he was holding my head firmly in place,
gripping fistfulls of my hair, and began thrusting into my mouth hard
and fast. I could feel myself trying to gag but fought it as much as
I could.
"Choke on it bitch!! CHOKE ON IT!!!", he snarled as his
viscious lunges came even harder and faster. He was fucking my
immobilized face in a frenzy. Gone was the cordial and cruelly
humorous host/torturer he'd been most of the morning. He was in
rapist mode now and clearly this wasn't going to be pleasant.
Unbelievably he began cursing me when his maniacal thrusts
scraped my back teeth. Like it was my fault. In my position,
kneeling, wrists still cuffed behind me, head held fast, I couldn't
do anything but keep my mouth open as wide as possible while trying
to keep my lips sealed over him as he plundered it. He was fucking
into it so hard I couldn't control anything, not even my own
movements.
He continued the brutal face fuck a little longer--all the
while complaining and insulting me with remarks like "Gaahd...you're
awful at this!" and "Is this the first time you ever sucked dick?" I
suppose humiliation was his goal. However I didn't feel humiliated,
just annoyed.
Without warning he withdrew and delivered a sharp slap to my
face. Tears sprung to my eyes.
"Get up bitch", he muttered as he hauled me to my feet again,
then unlocked the cuffs. Once my wrists were free, he shoved me onto
the bed and told me to lay on my back. He produced some more rope
and began to wind a length of it around one of my wrists. I wondered
vaguely what he was going to tie it to, since the bed had no posts,
however my rapist was nothing if not resourceful. There were two
bedside lamp fixtures bolted to the wall on both sides of the bed,
and he tied the other end of the rope binding my wrist to it, then
did the same with my other wrist and the fixture on that side. The
next length of rope was wound around my leg just above the knee, then
after my leg was hoisted up, knee bent, the rope was tied to the same
fixture my wrist was already tied to. The same procedure was
repeated with the other leg and when he was finished I was on my
back, arms spread, wrists tightly tied, my legs raised and spread as
well--the ropes above each knee forcing them widely apart. I was
totally exposed, vulnerable and once again helplessly bound.
I closed my eyes and tried not to think about the pictures he
was now taking from the foot of the bed. I suppose I did feel
humiliation then.
When Dave finally put down the camera and the new batch of
lewd pictures of me, he approached the bed--the wild look back in his
eyes-- to observe his captive so totally helpless and open to the
rape he'd been planning for some time. I eyed him fearfully then
flinched when he shoved his fingers into me again. He laughed to
find me wetter than ever.
"What a mess", he said again, as he picked up my panties
from the floor and began wiping the wetness from between my legs. He
showed me the panties, still damp from having been in my mouth
earlier, now glistening with my juices.
"See? See what a whore you are?" he asked cheerfully. I
didn't say anything but could feel my face burning. I think I was
more embarrassed by my wetness than my nudity. Suddenly he was
forcing them back into my mouth--the wettest part first so I would
have to, as he put it, taste myself. I felt disgust, but truthfully
it wasn't as gross as it sounded. Not that I liked it, but the idea
was worse than the reality.
After securing the panty gag with more tape, he crawled onto
the bed. He was taking his time, gazing at his captured prize,
savoring the moment. His hands were everywhere then....caressing
here, pinching there, his breathing heavy as was my own. I was
squirming and whimpering under his touch...trying to prepare for his
ultimate invasion of me.
After all the torment, all the chats that were joking at
first, then dead serious, all the threatening emails, after the
stalking, the abduction and all the tortures it was down to this--
me, helplessly tied, spread open for him while he prepared to take
me as he'd vowed to do so often. He was now on top of me....staring
into my eyes. I could feel his hardness against me. I was staring
back when he drove forward and entered me with one hard lunge. A
harsh gasp, then a sharp scream escaped me. I could hear him moan
faintly. His arms were under me, hands gripping my shoulders
tightly, his breath hot against my neck. He stayed that way a few
moments, deep inside me but not moving, as if he were savoring the
feeling....or regaining control.
Then he began to move.....slowly at first. He would pull out
nearly all the way, then force himself back into the depths of my
body with a sharp thrust, forcing a cry or a moan from me each time.
After a while of this--during which the tingles were spreading
throughout my entire body, causing me to writhe under him as much as
my bondage would allow, my moans began changing in tone from
frightened and pained to animalistic and urgent. He raised up some,
one hand squeezing my left breast, then began pumping into me with an
urgency of his own, each forward thrust hard as a blow.
"You like this Bitch?", he rasped as he fucked into me
harder, violating me roughly. My outcries that no gag could
completely silence were my only replies. My body was thrashing under
the assault, wrists and legs hurting terribly from the combination of
my writhing and the hard pounding which drove my body violently into
the limits of the ropes. My head was thrashing too, side to side as
if in protest, my cries getting louder....I knew, and so did he, that
an enormous explosion was building inside me.
He had raised himself up further and was now clutching my
open thighs in a painful grip as he fucked me harder and harder. I
could hear him saying things like, "Ohh you BITCH.....oh yesss....my
bitch....MY Bitch!! All mine..." and his words were driving me
even closer to the edge.
I'm not sure how long this went on, but the moment arrived
when my entire body stiffened violently as if I were being shocked
again, the current of a powerful orgasm rushing thru me this time, my
cries likely deafening were I not gagged. I dimly heard Dave gasp,
then moan loudly as the muscles inside my pussy spasmed and squeezed
his invading shaft tightly, driving him over the edge as well. Our
cries and groans mingled as he fell onto me, driving his lust and his
rage and his cock into me hard several more times before he stiffened
as well, and I felt the rush of his own orgasm fill me in the form of
hot, steadily shooting sperm.
Finally all frenzied motion stopped as we lay there panting,
his sweat covering me, his spent cock begining to shrink some, but
still buried inside me, his face against mine. He raised up on his
elbows after a while of this after-the-event silence, and looked at
my face again...his eyes locking onto mine, drawing me inside them.
He pulled the tape off my face as gently as possible, pulled out the
panty gag and kissed me long and passionately. I was returning these
kisses with equal passion, my bound arms longing to wrap around him.
As if reading my thoughts, he untied me as quickly as he
could then gazed at me in wonder it seemed, as I held out my free
arms in a come-to-me gesture. When he crawled into my embrace, he
was captured himself....completely enveloped as my arms and legs
wrapped around him. My rapist was a willing captive.....
We lay on our sides, bodies wrapped around each other, for a
long time. Sometimes we kissed, long sweet intoxicating kisses.
Sometimes we would just lie there clinging to each other as if we
would surely drown if we let go.
I really had no idea, when all this began, how I would feel
when it was over--about Dave or myself. Over the past several months
I'd seen my longtime online friend change from a harmless, if
somewhat demented, fun person to joke around with, argue with,
complain about my husband to, etc., to a determined, menacing
presence who delighted in scaring me. Thru our longtime friendship I
had in turn liked him a lot, disliked him a lot, laughed at his
jokes, trembled over his threats, loved him as a close friend, and
sometimes hated and feared him as a dangerous villain. The most I
had hoped for was that I could still think of him as a friend. The
last thing I'd expected to feel was this overwhelming tenderness. It
seemed to flow from a deep wellspring in my heart that I never knew
existed. Like it had been there silently waiting.....waiting for
him. It felt very pure somehow, almost cleansing....and very close
to love, a word I rejected in terror. It was beautiful, this
feeling, but it couldn't be love of all things!
Our passion rose again as we continued to kiss, caress and
hold each other. When we could stand it no more, we made love
urgently, wildly, and of course,...tenderly. Yeah, I said made
love. No one could possibly call what was happening a rape. That
is, unless the accused rapist was me. I had become quite aggressive,
wanting him as I'd wanted nothing or no one else. I felt the same
urgency from him--our emotions seemed to swirl together as our bodies
joined wildly.
At one point, while making love to me slowly and tenderly,
Dave started murmering endearments to me--or I should say endearments
according to Dave's definition. He was telling me how much he loved
torturing me, how lovely I was while suffering, and how much more he
would hurt me when we next meet again. Perhaps that would have
ruined everything for most women. But his words, promising much pain
and many tears, only drove me closer to the ecstacy I was already
approaching.
*******
I was standing beside my car, my hand raised in a farewell,
watching my friend drive away. It was early afternoon by this time.
Dave had a long drive ahead of him and my husband would be home in a
few hours. It was time to go back to our real lives.
I was smiling at him as I waved. Inside, something of a
meltdown had already begun, but I wouldn't be aware of it for a
while. Later, I would find myself bursting into tears without
warning....not once, not twice, but several times. I wouldn't even
know why.
I was relieved, of course, that I hadn't been hurt--at least
not badly. I was relieved that my friend wasn't a total
psycho....and I was relieved that I still thought of him as my
friend. Neither one of us was sure how this event would affect our
friendship. We weren't naive enough to think it could ever be the
same, but once this had been set in motion neither one of us could
stop it from happening, regardless of the consequences.
I think we were both in mild states of shock as we had
dressed and prepared to part company. The conversations we had then
and in his car were light, friendly and totally familiar--like how we
were online. I think that's when I knew for sure that we'd be ok.
It amazed me how much I felt I knew him, even though technically we'd
only just met. He was very much like he was online, and I felt the
same affection for him that I did when we were chatting so many miles
apart, only stronger now. Unfortunately, we couldn't linger. He'd
be getting home late as it was, and he had to work the next day.
With a final squeeze of hands and a furtive kiss, I was out
of his car and waving goodbye. I silently wished him a safe journey
home as I got into my car and prepared to return to my real life--in
many ways, it was as far from me now as Dave's home was from him. I
wondered if I'd ever see him again.
I wondered why I felt so empty....so lost. So much had
happened....so many different emotions had been felt, ranging from
the extremely negative to the heights of bliss--and that was just in
one day; never mind my torment of all those weeks before. After all
the fear and confusion he'd put me through I wondered why I should
feel so affectionate..so damn tender...why I couldn't stop seeing his
eyes.....
The Aftermath
There really is no aftermath. Our story continues even as
I'm trying to conclude this documentation.
Far from ruining our online friendship, the experience drew
us even closer--much closer than ever before. We try not to let a
day go by without talking--our computers the only link we have over
the distance.
I'm not saying it's always been easy. We both had a very
hard time accepting how we feel. Neither one of us expected to feel
so much. Sometimes we still avoid spilling the contents of our
hearts to each other--our feelings so raw, so vulnerable, our hearts
so easily breakable right now. I don't know how many times I've wept
openly while sitting at my computer--either from the pain of an
errant word or the joy of knowing my feelings are returned.
We both lived a fantasy that day. Dave discovered how it
truly felt to stalk, abduct, torture and rape a woman. I felt the
terror....the helplessness...and the incredibly intense arousal that
resulted without being murdered or totally brutalized. Even the
torture aroused me in ways I didn't expect. Wet as I was, it
obviously affected me physically, even though I hated it. Even now I
don't consider myself a masochist in any way. The thought of
experiencing pain doesn't excite me. However, the memory of
experiencing the pain Dave inflicted on me....well that's entirely
different. I would often find myself throbbing and wet as I
remembered enduring the sharp pain of the clamps...and the more
abstract yet terrifying pain of being shocked repeatedly. Then I
find myself wondering how it would be to endure even more. In some
ways I want to....even though it scares me....these crazy longings
scare the hell out of me.
That day was an unforgettable experience for both of us. But
of course it wasn't enough. We both knew early on that it wasn't
over--that we both had to experience it all again. Maybe we just had
to see each other again.
Dave's taste of my fear was like a drug to him I think. He
knew my fear was genuine and longed to taste it again, but was
worried that I couldn't possibly be afraid of him anymore.
Of course he came back....about a month and a half later.
He needn't have worrried about my not being scared of him.
We didn't meet like lovers--I received another phone call when he got
to town. Ignoring my friendly greeting, he tersely instructed me to
meet him again....same place. His voice wasn't friendly at all, and
he informed me I was in major trouble.
The abduction was every bit as thrilling as before, and yes I
was scared all over again. The backseat and the trunk were both used
again....I was still terrified of the trunk and pleaded again to be
spared that ride from Hell, but to no avail.
The tortures were even worse....just as he'd promised. The
clamps were left on longer till I was shrieking hysterically thru the
gag. The shocks were longer and much more intense. This time Dave
would sometimes shout, "THIS is for being married!!", or "THIS is
for living so far away!!!" right before delivering a particularly
nasty shock to my helpless, thrashing body.
I was made to feel the stinging burn of hot candle wax being
dripped on me while tied to the bed....I was made to feel the
excruciating sting of his belt as well after being roughly turned
over and tied face-down to the bed. I finally broke down and sobbed
loudly with that pain...my bound body twisting and turning in agony
while uselessly trying to avoid each blow...each blow that just kept
coming, my screams and wails driving him to hit me again and again--
just to keep hearing them. I ended up having to hide the many welts
for weeks.
Oh yes....and the rape. The rape was again an event by
itself. Enough said.
I didn't understand why he liked hurting me. I didn't
understand why I felt so special as I suffered for him....so turned
on....so right. I didn't understand why in the midst of my screams
of pain, real goddamn pain, I could feel something like pleasure
underneath it because I knew how my screams were affecting him. When
I asked him later why he liked to see me suffer, he answered
simply, "Because I love you".
I don't claim to understand it, but it struck a chord with me and
sank deeply. It sounded right somehow. And who can claim to
understand love anyway, no matter what form it takes?
I love Dave very much. I think about him all the time. Yet
I'm still afraid of him.....deeply afraid, and I'll tell you why. At
the beginning of this story I mentioned his favorite fetish...one we
both avoided speaking of at the beginning of this obsession with each
other. It's called BATS to those in the know. No, I don't mean the
wicked little flying rodents. BATS is short for Burned At The
Stake. Yeah....that fetish, the one I found so disturbing I wasn't
even sure I wanted to be friends with the guy when we began talking.
Yes, his old obsession and his new one (me) are beginning to
connect in that scary mind of his, and it's my fault. You see, in a
burst of daring and great affection, I offered to pose for a BATS
picture for him sometime. As long as there were no real flames I
didn't see the harm and I was even beginning to understand a small
part of the appeal. The bondage and fear of the situation is what
finally caused me to view the BATS pictures I saw on occasion with
new eyes. Actual burning was horrifying to me still, and I didn't
want to be burned of course--my new fascination didn't extend that
far...only to being tied to a stake and watching helplessly as wood
was piled at my feet. I could only imagine the powerful rush of fear.
Dave was surprised by my offer--an offer made for two
reasons. I wanted to see what it felt like to be tied to a stake and
menaced (but NOT hurt!!) and I wanted him to see me that way simply
because I wanted to be a part of his favorite fantasy. I wanted him
to have pictures of me helplessly struggling in vain to free myself--
my eyes showing the terror of an impending fiery doom. In short, I
wanted the honor of being his favorite BATS girl.
By making such an offer, whatever my reasons, I had
unwittingly given him new ammunition to torment me with. Now he
speaks of our next meeting with renewed enthusiasm. He speaks of
burning me often.... I keep reminding him that I DON'T want to be
burned, only tied to a stake. He casually promises to TRY not to let
that happen, as long as "something doesn't go horribly wrong and I
can't put you out in time". He wickedly tells me he'll have to get
ahold of a video camera just in case I do go up in flames. I know
he's fucking with me. I know this! He has to be! But ohgod, I'm so
damn scared now. He obviously intends to light the wood after all--
he even sent me the link to a page with detailed instructions on how
lovers can enact a BATS scene carefully with no harm coming to the
one at the stake. But things do go wrong. More so when playing with
fire (literally), because of the unpredictable nature and sudden fury
of it. Flames can go out of control so easily.
I'm very afraid to see him again.....I really and truly don't
want to die that way. As usual he laughs at my fears and says things
to make them worse. He can be such a bastard that way sometimes.
I love him very much, yet fear him as I fear Hell when he
torments me like that.
