Author's Note: This is a work of fiction with content suitable only for adults
(and stable ones at that). If you are prohibited from reading such material by
the laws or standards of your community please depart immediately. Likewise, if
you can't tell the difference between reality and fantasy get the heck outta
here and seel some professional help. The author in no way advocates
non-consensual activities such as are depicted here (and he strongly recommends
against consensual acting out of such scenes unless the participants have
reserved parking at the emergency room and a very understanding health plan).
Horror Beneath the Park
by
von Hentzau
Part II
Joanna lay on her mat staring at the brick ceiling of her dimly lit cell,
contemplating the predicament she was in. Joanna was not a woman to frighten
easily, but this frightened her. She still wasn't entirely certain it wasn't
just a bad dream or a bizarre practical joke. Kidnaped by an irate subordinate?
Held prisoner in an underground vault to be tortured for the enjoyment of
telepathic demons? It was too, too incredible. It had to be a joke or a dream.
Or a nightmare.
But then she had only to feel the ancient brick walls of the small alcove or
touch the cold, rusted bars that turned it into a cell to know that reality was
that she had been abducted and was a prisoner. And she had only to touch her own
body, to feel the obscene changes her captors had wrought on her nipples and
clit to know something way beyond normal was going on here.
Her nose twitched slightly. It seemed as if an odor of something had
slowly crept in barely noticed. Then Joanna realized it was that same odd,
almost familiar spice aroma she had smelled the night she was abducted. Before
she could react Joanna had slipped off into unconsciousness.
When Joanna came to she first thought she was in darkness. Then she
realized that a hood had been placed over her head. She felt like she was on her
back, on a hard surface, narrow like a bench. Her arms had been strapped into
cuffs below the small of her back on the underside of the bench. Her legs were
stretched out side by side and her ankles joined by cuffs or wide straps. She
tried to raise them but they were fastened down. She heard muffled voices.
The hood was removed. Joanna looked around, blinking at the light. She was
back in the big chamber, or at least one like it. From her position she could
only really see the vaulted roof and part of the walls. Gilbert was there beside
her, looking down at her with a demonic smirk on his face. Turning her head as
far away from him as possible she saw that the hooded creatures were in their
places in the shadows along the walls. And there was another man, rather tall,
shaggy haired, a three day growth of beard. Probably early middle aged. He was
dressed in dirty jeans and sweatshirt. Joanna stared at him as he slowly came
closer .
"I think you know Zack here," Gilbert said. "But, since you've not been
formally introduced, allow me. Zack, Joanna. Joanna, this is Zack. Zack is
another street person and a member of our Demon service organization. The
Demons have found that the cast offs of society make great helpers. No one
notices them as they go about their tasks above ground. In fact, peopel go out
of their way to avoid them. And down here they're very enthusiastic about
carrying out their assignments."
Joanna recognized him now. The last several weeks she'd seen him
panhandling at her subway stop. It had seemed as if he'd frequently zeroed in
on her, followed her up the steps to street level trying to mooch change. She'd
had to strong arm him out of the way more than once.
"Well, we're about ready to begin with your first real session," Gilbert
said. "Oh, if you're curious about the way we start, knocking you out in your
cell so that you wake up here, ready to go, that's a little touch the Demons
like. Waking up to a nightmare instead of waking up from one in a way. They love
the irony. They also appreciate a sharp demarcation between torture and rest
periods. Mild discomfort is a waste of emotion as far as they're concerned so
you'll be happy to know we'll try to keep you comfortable between sessions.
"So, where to begin?" Gilbert said as he idly traced the lines of her torso
with a quirt. Zack had begun fondling her crotch. Joanna now became very aware
of the altered state of her clit, erect, exposed and so extremely sensitive.
She began to squirm as Zack centered his attentions on the pink nubbin.
"Yes, that would be a fine place to start but I think we'll save that for
dessert. Zack, let's start at the bottom and work our way up."
Zack went off to the side, out of Joanna's view. Within a minute she saw
a rope with a metal hook on the end descending from the shadows of the ceiling.
Gilbert grabbed it, pulled it all the way down and hooked it to the ankle cuffs.
He undid the snaps that held Joanna's feet to the bench. Zack began pulling the
rope up, first raising Joanna's legs and then lifting her ass off the bench.
When her butt had risen about a foot he stopped and tied off the rope.
She felt Gilbert and Zack stroking the backs of her thighs and curves of
her rump. Then the light stroking turned into a series of increasingly sharper
slaps.
"My, but your butt cheeks jiggle delightfully," Gilbert said in his mocking
voice. "Let's what else we can do with it."
There was a swishing sound followed by a sharp pain in a line across both
butt cheeks.
"That, Joanna, was a cane."
A whoosh and a solid blow fell on one check.
"And that was a leather strap. Each implement has its own peculiar feel and
effect. I suspect that before long you'll recognize each with no difficulty."
A steady stream of blows began, with only brief pauses as her assailants
changed implements. They worked from the curve of her butt up the back of her
thighs and down again.
"My god!" Joanna thought. "How long can they keep this up?"
Then she thought "How long can I endure this?"
She never really knew, for she quickly lost track of time and the number of
blows and finally she slipped off into unconsciousness.
Once again Joanna came to and found herself in standing position. Again a
hood covered her head. She seemed to standing against a pillar or column. She
could feel the cool, rough curving surface against her back. Her arms had been
pulled back and around the pillar and tied. Her legs, though were still free.
But not for long. She heard muffled voices and then her ankles were grasped and
pulled to the sides of the pillar. Straps were tied and she could feel the cold
of metal rings on the inside of her ankles.
Then the hood was removed. She tried to look around but before her eyes had
adjusted a pair of blinders had been slipped over her head. Her vision was
severely restricted. She could see the Demons standing like grimy statues in the
shadows in front of her and to the side as far as she could turn her head. But
even turning her head as far as she could her view was restricted to something
less than 180 degrees.
She heard music playing, softly at first, then gradually growing louder. A
familiar tune. What was it? That's it, she thought. "Anticipation", by Carol
King. Or was it Carly Simon? Should could never remember who did what.
Out of nowhere the multiple strand of a cat o'nine tails whistled in to
wallop against her torso, beneath her breasts. She yelped, more from surprise
than pain. Her eye had caught the movement but the stinging impact came before
it registered what was happening. She braced herself for another stroke.
She waited. Nothing happened. "Anticipation" had started over. It must have
been a multiple recording. Suddenly the cat came in from the left, low, to rap
against her thigh. She braced for the next blow.
Nothing. She waited. She waited some more. Still nothing.
"Damn!" she thought. "They're messing with my mind."
A wooden paddle came up suddenly from below and to the right. It sent her
right breast flopping upwards. Then, while it was still jiggling, the paddle
came down sharply, bashing the poor organ out of it's way.
She waited again for the next stroke. Whoever was doing it was in no hurry.
She grew anxious, tense, as the minutes passed and the expected blow did not
come. She began to notice in the far corners of her mind that strange sense of
amusement and delight. But it wasn't hers
A pair of blows came, one to each side of her rib cage just below her
breasts. Some time later they were followed by blow with a leather strap to her
thighs. More time passed and some light strokes were delivered to her belly. It
dawned on Joanna that her tormentor was purposely avoiding her most sensitive
areas. He knew that she knew that her pussy and breasts would receive attention
in due course. And the waiting would driving her wild.
It went on for what seemed like hours. Every so often a blow landed on
thigh or belly, below her breasts, on hip. A few were aimed at one breast or the
other. She was almost hanging in her bonds from exhaustion, her head hanging
forward, eyes half closed.
Suddenly she smelled cigarette smoke. She opened her eyes wide, in time to
see a hand holding a lit cigarette reach around from her right side. It was
going towards her crotch.
"No, no, no, no!" she cried.
The burning tip lightly touched her clit. She screamed and jerked against
her bonds trying to escape the pain. The cigarette went flying across the floor.
It was followed by a thick leather slap, wielded with full strength against her
breasts. A dozen strokes against each. Then the strap was wrapping itself
against the curve of her belly, the tip slamming against her pussy lips and her
poor, singed clit. Over and over it landed until Joanna slipped from
consciousness, the smell of spice in her nostrils and that strange sense of joy
in the back of her mind.
Joanna realized she was once again in the standing spread eagle position.
She didn't have to wait for them to remove the hood to know she was back in the
main chamber, that the Demons would again be arrayed in the shadows along the
wall. But she also noticed that her position was slightly different. Her arms
were almost straight up. Her legs were closer together than usual. Either one of
the uprights had been moved or she was between a different, closer set pair.
She felt straps being placed just above her knees. The her knees were being
spread apart and tied to the uprights, opening up her most sensitive area and
leaving it totally vulnerable. That sent a frison of fear through her. Though
why should it, she thought. By now she should be used to the idea that whatever
position these perverts put her in her pussy was going to be exposed. And
tormented.
The winches were turned. Joanna's arms and legs were stretched, though not
as tight as they had been before and she was not lifted off her feet this time.
Their preparations ready, one of her tormentors removed the hood. It was
Gertie, in her dirty blue jeans and ragged t-shirt. She had a crooked smile on
her face. Joanna was beginning to fear that smile, for it meant Gertie had
something very unpleasant for Joanna on her mind.
"I told you, dearie," Gertie said with heavy sarcasm, "that we were going
to party. Well, it's time to party."
Gertie reached out and seized Joanna's nipples. She pinched them, then
began pulling and twisting. Slowly she increased the pressure. She release one
and began stroking Joanna's cunt.
"Such a lovely body you have, dearie. Just made for partyin'. Especially
the sorta party we have in mind."
Joanna jerked against her bonds as a whip sliced across her but cheeks.
She'd forgotten for a moment that there were two tormentors who'd tied her legs.
Either Gilbert or Zack was behind her with a whip. Whoever it was he gave her
another stroke just below the first. Gertie kept her hand in place, letting
Joanna's reaction to the whip force her mons against Gertie's hand.
"That's it, dearie. Work with me," Gertie said. "Just keep humping like
that. We want you good and hot!"
A dozen more strokes fell. Gertie pulled her hand away and tugged her dirty
sweatshirt off over her head. She was braless underneath. Not a big surprise.
Joanna had noticed in the summer when Gertie roamed the streets in a filthy
t-shirt that she was almost always braless. Not that there was much point in a
bra. She sported two sad looking saggy fried egg breasts.
Gertie saw Joanna staring at her breasts.
"What? You don't like what you see?," she said in mock distress. "You don't
want to touch them? You don't want to play with them? But I want to play with
yours! Such nice, big, full boobies. And such lovely, large nipples! I bet
they're really, really sensitive."
She reached out and grasped a nipple. She squeezed and stretched it until
tears came to Joanna's eyes. She released the tortured nip, but followed it with
a series of left-right slaps, each one harder than the previous, against the
boobie, sending the bulbous flesh flopping back and forth.
Zack had come out from behind Joanna. He now stood, shirtless, watching
Gertie torment Joanna's bust. She'd extended her range to both breasts now,
alternating from one side to the other. She'd slap from side to side. Then give
a sharp upward slap, lifting the boobie into the air. Then shed pull and twist
the nipple. She'd dig her fingernails into the soft flesh.
Then Gertie took several steps back.
"Getting hot yet, Joanna?" she asked. "I certainly am."
She kicked off her shoes and started to wriggle out of her pants. She wore
no underwear. Her pubic hair was scraggly and untidy. She stepped closer to
Joanna and slipped two fingers into Joanna's slit. She slowly slid them back and
fort, gently caressing Joanna's inner lips and clit.
"Oooh. You're wet, aren't you? You're hot for me, aren't you? I bet you
want to go down on me, don't you? Well, you will, dear, you will. But not
tonight. We have something else planned for tonight."
Gertie gave Joanna's clit a nasty pinch. Joanna was still surprised at just
how sensitive it was, and how vulnerable to such attention. Then gertie stepped
off to the side. Zack was facing her now. He'd already removed his shoes. Now he
was undoing his jeans. Zack also was apparently not a believer in underwear. As
he slid the pants down his fully erect, purple headed cock sprang into view.
Joanna was afraid to look too closely. God knew what kind of diseases the brute
was spreading with that filthy organ. She just hoped they weren't planning to do
what it looked like the were planning to do.
Zack contented himself for the moment with playing with Joanna's boobies.
Then Gertie came back. She was carrying some sort of strap device. She dropped
it to the floor as she approached Zack. She reached out and grabbed him by his
cock, pulling him towards her. They embraced and kissed, though keeping an open
angle so that Joanna could see what they were doing. Gertie kept her grip on
Zack's cock, stroking it vigorously. Zack let his free hand work its way down
Gertie's belly, to bury his finger deep in her cleft.
"Good God!" Joanna thought. "Are the animals going to do it here in front
of me?"
They spent several minutes in increasingly heavy foreplay.
"Hey, Joanna," Zack called out, pulling his lips away from Gertie's. "Wanna
join us? How silly of me. Of course you do!"
He released Gertie and approached Joanna. He was slowly massaging himself
now. He reached out his other hand and began stroking Joanna's pussy.
"Little menage a trois action, maybe? I hear you big executive types are
really into that kind of thing."
He pinched her clit between thumb and forefinger, squeezing harder and
harder, until Joanna had to suck in a deep breath and hold it to keep from
crying out.
"Getting excited, Joanna?" Zack asked. He gave one last, very hard squeeze.
Then he released her clit. He slapped her, hard, half a dozen times directly on
her vulva. Then he gave each breast a quick left-right slap.
Meanwhile Gertie had retrieved the white leather device she'd dropped. She
was now buckling it around herself. It was a harness device, a waist belt with
straps running between her legs. There was a ring shaped section at mons level.
Gertie slipped a large, knobby dildo through the ring. She came over to stand in
front of Joanna.
"Hey, Jo?" she called out. "Who's better hung, me or Zack?" She wiggled her
hips and made the plastic pecker gyrate obscenely in front of Joanna. "Ready to
party, dear? I am!"
She stepped to side, giving Joanna's boobs a light slap apiece. Zack
stepped up close. Joanna was a tall woman, but Zack was slightly taller. He had
to bend at the knees to make the proper alignments. Joanna closed her eyes and
let her head loll back. Perhaps if she could pretend this wasn't happening. But
she could feel the fingers, poking, probing, spreading her. Then, without other
warning, he entered her. One hard, long thrust and she was impaled, fully. His
strokes lifted her again her bonds.
But worse was to come. She felt fingers massaging her butt cheeks, then
spreading them. She felt to blunt plastic tip against her anus.
"No!" she screamed.
But her protest was to no avail. Gertie rammed the device home, reveling
in Joanna's screams. She and Zack began pumping away in unison, lifting her off
her feet with each stroke. Zack's breath was becoming ragged.
"Think this is fun, Joanna?" Zack said, gasping. "Well just wait and see
what else we've got planned for you."
To be continued...........What horrors do Gilbert and the Demons have in store
for the helpless Joanna? You'll have to wait and see!
Copyright is claimed on this work by the author. Since I may wish to publish
it again at a future date permission to copy, republish or distribute it in any
form is expressly prohibited with the sole exception of personal, non-commercial
use.
