Picture: Schoolgirl fantasy BJ Click here to reveal.
He saw her doing this, and bought her, on the spot.
She wasn’t really on the scene, they were just swingers having an adventurous night, but he had offered her and her man so much money that she said yes, for a month.
At first, she didn’t get it— just thought he was a rich guy who wanted good blowjobs and a bit of dressing up.
When she finally realised that he was serious, she became hysterical, and had to be restrained.
She was wild for three days after that, screaming, raging. He kept her in soft cuffs, made sure she couldn’t damage herself or anyone else. Naked, possessed, she was a magnificent creature— utterly without inhibition. It was difficult to hold back from forcing himself upon her.
On the third day, in one of her calm periods, there was an interlude when she, keeling on a bench, in her schoolgirl outfit, had held herself open while he casually, rather roughly in fact, had entertained herself with her pussy, brought her close to orgasm a couple of times but not given her a release. Then he sat back and watched her.
After a little while she spoke; very soft and breathy and humble, the easiness with which she had been aroused, how needy she had become, strong in the air between them; she asked if he could remove the restraints.
New Picture: schoolgirl outfit, restrained Click here to reveal.
Original Picture: schoolgirl outfit, restrained Click here to reveal.
“Happily— but what if you go crazy again? You’ll hurt yourself, or smash something.”
He watched her swallow down a salty response, make herself look at the floor, breathe a couple of times. When she looked up it was obvious that she was holding herself to make the most of her remarkable tits— blushing a little— it was the first time since he’d bought her that she had bargained with her body.
Her voice was softer;
“I … I just can’t … can’t do this. I … I need to … to have some … some little freedom? I … I know I need to … to please you … S … Sir … "
He saw how much it cost her to use the word, which she had used a great deal, playfully, in the first day or two. Now it was real, it stuck in her throat.
“… if …if I promise to … to tell you before I go … crazy, so … so that you can …” she raised her cuffed wrists, linked to the broad leather waspie that was locked in place; “… so you can put these back on … would … would that be ok?”
Freed, she lost all her stiffness, cried a little, softly, then a great deal more. He watched her in her first serious defeat, saw it eat into her, establish itself in her. It was both a privilege and a savage pleasure.
Eventually, she stopped, and there was silence. He read his book.
She cleared her throat.
And then again. He looked up;
“Did you want to speak, pretty?”
She hated him calling her that, which was why he persisted, besides the fact that she was, almost unbearably, pretty.
He watched her shake her head— clearly suppressing the urge to say something rude, and then she made herself smile, smile for him, knowing she must please him if she wanted anything at all; such a complex, conflicted smile; it made him grin, and her blush; her expression telling him that she knew why. Her knowing that he was inside her head made an enormous difference with girls like this one and it took her quite a while, but eventually, it came;
“Um … can … can I ask a question?”
“You may, pretty.”
This time a little blush and a real smile, a tiny girly flounce of petulance. It took effort for her to say what she needed to say, but he was patient, amused, until;
Picture: begging with her breasts Click here to reveal.
“Um how … how … how much longer— more … more of this will it take until … until …"— controlling herself was clearly very hard work, but she maintained her position, kept her voice even— " … until I’m … I’m a proper … um … slave … you know, properly um … b-broken— s-slave g-girl.”
A couple of tears leaked from her eyes and she almost lost it at that point, but held on.
He left the silence to grow, looking at her, soft, but relentless, while she blinked back the tears, her eyes unfocused, having accepted that she has lost something, lost it for good; another defeat in what she was beginning to see would be a repeated experience, until;
“Oh, I think you’re there already, pretty. So lovely; naked, quiet, cute frightened smile, asking to speak, holding yourself so nicely for me— offering me those titties so sweetly. Yes, definitely a slave girl— but with plenty of room for improvement.”
“You see, it was in you already, the possibility of this. That’s why I bought you. And frankly, the morning after Day one, when you were so sweet and sexy with me and Mr Lafferty, and came so very loudly for us, were so helpless afterwards, it’s been an inevitability. The thing is that a part of you was already wanting this; to be simplified, diminished, denied any reason to think about anything but how to get people to fuck you, fuck you so hard you can’t think; how to drown yourself in sex.”
“And now your life is over.”
She winced, hard, a fleeting expression of intense turmoil twisting her face, her eyes flashing up at him, full of hot pain and bitterness, but all so very, very weak, her inability to fight back already an unavoidable acknowledgement, deep in her psyche, until she controlled herself again, needing to know, no matter how frightening;
“What … what I mean is; when … when will it … when will it stop … hurting so much; how … how foolish I’ve been?”
New Picture: When will it stop hurting? Click here to reveal.
Original Picture: How long till I'm broken Click here to reveal.
He smiled at her, enjoying himself, entertained;
“Oh, pretty; it will never stop hurting; this is a terrible thing that is being done to you; and it’s being done on purpose, by me, so that I can see you hurting, enjoy your suffering. I’m too experienced to ever let you get used to it; and if you do, I’ll get rid of you.”
Her face was anguish then, fighting herself so as not to scream at him, not to attack him again, trying so hard, finding it so hard; she was suffering so deeply, the poor girl— his dick was like an iron bar, and it was very hard to resist throwing her down right there, but this was an important phase, enjoyable in its own right.
He paused deliberately, making her wait until she could present herself, apparently submissive again, then;
“If you do want to improve, I would expect those thighs to be really obviously open— offering me your needy little slit whenever you can is definitely a requirement.”
She almost laughed, almost sobbed again, almost snarled at him, but then— the cost of this, the despair it engendered, visible in her pretty face, in the way her lips trembled— controlled herself again, and then, slowly, shaking a little, raised her buttocks and, a trifle inelegantly, opened her legs, blushing hard, set her shoulders back, pushed her wonderful breasts out.
Another little giggle / sob, but this time without even a trace of defiance and she spoke again;
“Will … will you really … w … whip … me?”
No hesitation, voice normal;
“Yes, at least once a day for some time to come, a deliberately cruel and destructive session, often with guests present— plus punishment of course, plus times when I simply fancy hurting you, hearing you scream and beg, full on hysterics, terror, despair.”
Enormous impact; her face twisted as she made a heroic and largely successful effort to retain her position and her promise.
He simply watched for a while, then; watched as wave after wave of emotion arose in her, demanded action of her— protest, resistance, to speak, yell; tell him he was a monster, whatever— watched as the waves grew weaker, as the knowledge of her defeat ate into her, until at last something he had been waiting for happened; without any overt change, her presentation had shifted from being a careful, forced pose, and became a full-body invitation, the waves of internal struggle replaced by a slower, almost invisible surging; she wanted sex, wanted him to fuck her, wanted to be taken away from everything by the intensity of violent sexual usage; needed it; her body was in control— she had let it be so, given in to it— and her body was honest and simple, and needy, and she was begging him for it, despite what he had just told her about her future with him.
And he obliged her, not only because it was time, a necessary part of her training, but because it was now his absolute right to destroy her with his desire, and because he could not have controlled himself another minute. He didn’t need it, but he had dosed himself that morning with one of the blue pills, and some other enhancers, sensing that they were approaching this point, he and her, and it was a good two and a half hours later that he staggered back from her, she limp on the floor, face and hair a mess, deep welts across her whole body, whimpering, arms flung wide at odd angles, hands palm up, her sex red and puffy, marks of his teeth in her flesh, one eye swollen, sprawled with her arms out, one knee up, thighs wide apart, a hint of blood at the crack of her buttocks, eyes half closed, seeing nothing, her breathing ragged and irregular, her chest and belly spasming at random.
After that, her collapse was swift and helpless and complete.
Three weeks later, he had her call her husband to tell him, her voice tiny and breathy, filled with deep shame, that she wouldn’t be coming back, that she had given herself over, that she could be no use as a wife anymore, that she had become nothing but desperate cunt. She sent him a picture to help him understand:
New Picture: Damaged goods Click here to reveal.
Original Picture: Damaged goods Click here to reveal.
The husband was angry, upset, confused, and threatened to make trouble, but after coming to the house and seeing her transformation for himself, fucking her and whipping her too, he rather easily took another large chunk of cash and signed an NDA, after which a quickie divorce finalised the separation from her old life.
That took any last fight out of her.
She has become a remarkable creature; lost, sensual, intense, desperate at all time, clearly wild inside— but very disciplined, very prettily behaved.
Picture: Fucked Click here to reveal.
The whipping affects her dreadfully, really destroys her. It inflames him and he sometimes surprises himself with his cruelty.
Somehow, though, she is utterly accepting of his right to hurt her, never resists or shows anger, always sweet when he rams his hardness into her after throwing the whip aside, kissing him softly through subsiding sobs as he fucks her savagely, the tears still wet on her face, offering, opening herself to him without reserve, her thanks urgent and sincere.
She does get tearful every couple of weeks, when something reminds her of what it was like to have a life, or some particularly repulsive older guest uses her in a way which degrades her more than usually.
Picture: Anal dildo Click here to reveal.
But mostly she fucks like an angel, with a helpless eagerness to please, and the slutty schoolgirl costume still reliably gets her hot.
When she has a special favour to ask, she gets dressed up in it, and does everything she can to get him to rape her.
She’s his only girl to call it that;
“Hi, Sir … I … I wonder if you’d like to rape me? Please, Master. Rape me hard and cruel, so that I feel like dirt. Make me hurt inside.”
She’s a couple of years older than the other girls; she knows she has to work harder for him, is careful to show him her desperation in pretty ways, even though she knows he will use it to hurt her with, in the hope that it will also keep him interested.
He has already sold her in fact, to a Mid-East dealer whom he knows fronts for the Saudis, but has used his option to delay the transfer a couple of times already. In two months, though, he will hand her over, his limit reached. He enjoys handovers as well, but he will remember this one after she has gone, perhaps more than most.
That new redhead, though … it is rare to have one so young and innocent— not 19 yet— who has yet such inner depths to her … not to mention those remarkable tits or the way that hurtful, unwanted orgasms utterly undo her …
Picture: in a scoolgirl uniform, curtsying and caressing herself Click here to reveal.
Picture: Schoolgirl outfit Click here to reveal.
Picture: twirling her skirt Click here to reveal.
Picture: spitroast Click here to reveal.
