I was somewhat more subdued the next morning. My breasts were excruciatingly painful and when I examined them in the bathroom mirror, their appearance was shocking. Ugly blue, purple and yellow bruises virtually covered their entire surface, with a random pattern of scratches and cuts. I couldn’t bear to wear a bra. Despite selecting my loosest fitting blouse it still hurt every time I moved. My injuries as well as doubts about my safety dissuaded me from ringing the number on Melanie’s card straight away. As I slowly recovered though, my new sexual needs made calling her inevitable. I now pissed almost every time I masturbated. Sometimes I would piss into the thermos flask and then drink my piss while I climaxed. I even did it in the toilets of the library where I worked. Something that disturbed me more than my appetite for urine or the possibility of a lesbian relationship with Melanie, was that I was starting to fantasize about her hurting me. When I masturbated I would imagine her raping me violently. With all these considerations added to my normal extreme shyness it took me two weeks to work up the courage to phone her.
When I had finally breached the barriers of receptionist and private secretary, Melanie brushed aside my apologies for delay. “You have every reason for procrastination Althea. Any reluctance to submit yourself to even worse treatment than you have experienced hitherto, is quite understandable.” “E-even worse!” I stuttered. “Of course it will be worse, you silly girl,” Melanie laughed. “If I get you where no one can interfere, you will really suffer!” I couldn’t speak. A few moments of silence passed. “Well my dear, I have a client to attend to shortly. So if you can’t make up your mind what you want – I think I’ve made my position quite clear. You had better find some other way of amusing yourself.” “No! Please, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean… What do you want me to do?” I asked humbly. “That’s much better,” she replied. “What I want is for you to come to my apartment this weekend. After you have finished work on Saturday that is. Two PM the library closes I believe? And you are finished perhaps, fifteen minutes later?” “Yes Melanie,” I agreed. I was hardly surprised that she knew where and when I worked. She was obviously a woman who found out everything she wanted to know. “Hmmmm… I know that I introduced myself as Melanie, but now I think it would be more appropriate if you were to address me as Ms. Wakefield.” “Yes Ms. Wakefield.” “You will find a taxi waiting for you when you finish work.” Without waiting for a reply Ms Wakefield hung up.
Part of me hoped that the taxi would not be there when I left my work, but of course it was. Surprisingly the driver took me towards the center of town and stopped outside the entrance of an old office block. ‘Is this it?” I asked the young man. “This is where I was told to drop you off,” he confirmed. I got out of the taxi and stood bemused before the doors. The only nameplates were of companies I had never heard of. “Push the door when you hear the buzz and take the lift to the top floor,” the intercom crackled. When the dilapidated lift finally arrived at the fourteenth floor, the view that emerged through the opening doors was quite unexpected. Walls of rough stucco surrounded a small tiled floor lobby. The ceiling was constructed wooden slates set in a simple pattern. A bronze statue of a rather menacing abstract design guarded a heavy wooden door. The effect was vaguely Japanese.
This impression was reinforced when Ms. Wakefield opened the door to reveal a hall way lined with rice paper panels. She was dressed casually in faded jeans, a white T-shirt and brown leather sandals. “Good afternoon Althea,” Ms. Wakefield greeted me, motioning me inside. I heard a loud clunk as the door locked behind me. She took me by the hand and led me down the hall way. “We’ll sit outside I think. Well it’s not really outside, but you will see what I mean.” The room we came to was large, maybe fifty feet to a side. The ceiling was higher than in the hall way and illuminated by skylights. The plants, rocks and timber decking did indeed give the impression of outdoors. There was even a small pond containing water lilies and golden carp. Various doorways gave access to the rest of the apartment. Ms. Wakefield guided me to a seat made of rough cut wood and natural stone. She sat with me, still holding my hand.
I gazed around at the seemingly uncontrived beauty of the indoor garden, occasionally glancing furtively at the beauty of Ms Wakefield too. Except for the sound of water flowing from a bamboo pipe set amongst some rocks in the middle of the pond, the garden was entirely silent. It was almost impossible to imagine that a bustling city was just outside. “Your apartment is wonderful!” Ms. Wakefield smiled, “I am rather fortunate to have this level of peace and solitude without the bother of commuting for an hour. Especially the solitude.” I was very conscious of how close she was. I could smell her. I wanted to taste her. Her very large breasts were so much more prominent in her tight thin T- shirt than her previous attire.
I tried to calm myself. “M-Ms. Wakefield, can I ask you a question?” “Certainly Althea. As long as I don’t regard it as impertinent I may even answer.” With her free hand she stroked the hand she held reassuringly. “The first day, on the train; was that the first time you saw me?” “No. The first time I saw you, you were leaving a cafe on your way back to work.” “That must have been…” “Your birthday. Yes, as I subsequently discovered, if I hadn’t seen you then I may never have met you. You normally don’t leave your work at lunchtime.” “Is there anything you don’t know about me?” I asked. “Quite possibly. I only know: your full name, birth date, birth place, blood mother, father unknown, foster parents, academic history, work history, lovers none, friends one, acquaintances three, current address, past addresses and a pet cat by the name of Henry. Besides that, there is probably much I am ignorant of; but all I do know, I knew before you first saw me.” I was speechless!
After waiting patiently for some minutes Ms. Wakefield explained, “If my interest in you seems obsessive that’s simply because, I’m obsessed. From the first time I saw your… incredible beauty; I needed to have, to possess, to own you.” “I’m not so beautiful,” I protested, turning my head away self-consciously. “Your lack of vanity, indeed self-knowledge, is a good part of your appeal,” she retorted. “In any case, your opinion does not hold sway here. Have you taken note of the elegant whipping posts?” She indicated a structure close to where we were seated. I had noticed the two thick timber uprights standing unsupported and a few yards apart, but it had not occurred to me that their purpose anything other than aesthetic. Now I noticed the iron rings set the wood. Also, a trunk of dark carved wood beside one of the columns. Ms. Wakefield took hold of my chin and made me look at her. “There is nothing more beautiful than a young woman screaming!” She told me this with such immovable conviction that I could only whisper “Yes,” by way of an answer. “We need to prepare. Come with me.” She stood up and walked away. I followed.
In a white tile clad bathroom room lit dazzlingly bright with halogen lights, she cleaned me, inside and out. A large enema bag was filled three times with hot soapy water and once with plain warm water. All this liquid entered and evacuated my rectum. It was very embarrassing, especially the evacuation, which Ms. Wakefield watched intently. She admonished me not to piss while I expelled the water. This was difficult as I deliberately hadn’t emptied my bladder all day. Ms. Wakefield then shaved my vagina. She used the same cutthroat she had threatened me with at the station. I found the shaving both frightening and incredibly sexual. The blade against my cunt brought me close to orgasm. We showered together, she scrubbing us both roughly with a stiff brush and soap. She shampooed my hair and rubbed some sort of scented oil into my skin. I experienced a strange feeling of comfort in the way she attended to me. After drying me with a warm fluffy towel she combed my hair and even clipped my nails. As I waited for Ms. Wakefield to finish her own ablutions, I examined my reflection in a large heated mirror. I looked and felt more cleansed than I had ever felt before. All was fresh and tingling with renewal. My perfectly hairless vagina only added to this feeling of rebirth.
“This is going to hurt Althea. It’s going to hurt a lot. It is my hope that as well as the pain, you will experience some of the pleasure I feel when I abuse you. That is my hope; but regardless of your needs, I will have my desire fulfilled. Willing or no, you will be my bitch!” We were naked by the whipping posts. Ms. Wakefield held me close while she caressed my back. A strange contrast of feeling safe and warm in her arms, with the fear of the violence about to happen. Had I come to Ms. Wakefield for sex, possibly love, despite the pain I knew I would experience, or did I actually want to be tortured as well? I hoped I was not so perverse as to desire the latter, but to my shame my doubt continued. “Stand in the center of the posts with your back to me,” Ms. Wakefield commanded. “Look only ahead.” I obeyed, feeling frightened and excited. I heard her open the trunk. Rummaging around. The squeak of leather. Then a sound of metal. The sound of chains.
My wrists and ankles were fastened to the chains by plastic ties such as mechanics use. Only after I was secured; my arms stretched high and my legs forced wide apart, did she allow me to turn my head so she could show me the whip. A riding crop, perhaps a foot longer than the ones I’d seen the jockeys use. Made of a dark red leather, it appeared not only well used, but from an earlier time. The whip went well with the boots she was now wearing. The same boots she had worn on the train. She supported her large round breasts with a leather half cup bra, but what really completed her outfit, was a moulded leather mask. It only covered from her forehead down to the top of her cheekbones. It was just enough to add a hint of evil. She was now a sex bitch dressed in leather.
“No… please! No!” I begged. With only the balls of my feet in touch with the ground, there was nothing else I could do. I felt stupid to protest at this late stage, but I couldn’t help myself. Ms. Wakefield said nothing. She only smiled cruelly, and drew back her arm. “AAAAAAGH!” I screamed at the top of my voice as she brought the whip down across the middle of my back. The pain was shocking. It was as if I was being beaten with a length of barbed wire. Although I had feared the pain, I hadn’t imagined it would be quite as terrible. A great tearful sob escaped me. “Please, not so hard!” I pleaded, dreading the next stroke. Nothing happened. After a while I dared to look over my shoulder. She hadn’t stopped, she was just waiting with her eyes closed. Her stance wide as she ever so slowly drew the whip up and down, between the lips of her hairy vagina. Suddenly she snapped her eyes open and raised the whip again. “OOOOOWWWRRRGH!” I shrieked as she whipped me again, tearing the flesh on my shoulders. Again she paused, then quickly beat me twice across my buttocks. Another wait, longer than the first. Then she let me have it on the top of my thighs, lower back and bum again in quick succession.
Each time she whipped me my body jerked in an uncontrollable spasm. I was howling for mercy constantly, only screaming louder when the riding crop bit deep. Vainly I struggled against the chains. I don’t know how many times she beat me before she stopped and walked around to face me. Many, many times. I could feel warm blood oozing from the ragged welts in my skin. “Did you enjoy that?” she asked. “It was horrible!” I complained bitterly through my tears. “Really? If that’s the case,” she put a hand on my vagina and roughly inserted a finger, “how come you’re so wet?” I couldn’t answer. “See!” she sneered as she held her now dripping finger under my nose. “You beg me not to hurt you, but you deserve everything you get. You deserve it because you want it!”
“No!” I bawled sorrowfully, but I knew I was lying, both to Ms. Wakefield and to myself. Although the pain was horrific, my vagina would not let me conceal my deepest need. My cunt was telling me a fundamental truth; I was a worthless lesbian slut who wanted to be dominated and abused viciously. Ms. Wakefield pushed her finger into my mouth. “So what are you tasting, whore?” I felt so humiliated. I was even enjoying the flavour of my own lubrication! I was also bursting with the need to piss. She grabbed hold of both my ears and held my face nose to nose. “Tell me bitch! Tell me what you know to be true!” she whispered huskily. And suddenly despite all my fear and shame I found myself confessing, “Yes I want it! I’m a dyke bitch! I want to be your bitch! Hurt me as much as you like! Please whip me some more!” Ms. Wakefield grinned broadly. “Very good! That’s just what I want to hear. Anywhere in particular you would like me to whip you?” I froze as an image of me screaming under her whip blazed across my mind. “I… I want you to whip my tits! Please… please whip my tits and… and my cunt! Whip my tits and cunt as hard as you can!”
I thought I had screamed as loud as was humanly possible. When the whip struck my little pointy breasts, slashing right across one of my erect nipples, I howled my lungs out! “AAAAAAAAAAAGGHHH!!! This was pain on another level. Its intensity beyond anything I could have imagined, and I wanted it! I wanted more! The leather clad sex goddess in front of me enthusiastically fulfilled my desire. Her face exhibited such joy as she beat me. She was perspiring with the effort, her big round breasts jiggling up and down despite the tight support of her bra. Five hard strokes to my breasts then a vicious uppercut directly on my naked wet vagina. I lost control of my bladder and began to orgasm! My piss sprayed everywhere as Ms. Wakefield madly whipped my cunt again and again. Much of my urine sprayed on my tormentor, but she ignored it in her passion to thrash me. I was screaming and pissing and cumming like a demented slut. I was having multiple orgasms. Each time my climax began to subside, the whip hitting my clitoris started a new spasm in my cunt, which spread throughout my body. Ms. Wakefield only stopped whipping me when I ran out of piss.
Hanging exhausted in the chains it took some time for my heart beat and breathing to reach something like a normal pace. “Well Althea, you’ve made a pretty mess.” I was a mess. Blood, sweat and tears were certainly prevalent. “I don’t normally tolerate being pissed on, but considering the… provocation, I’ll let it pass for now.” She opened her razor and cut me free of the straps. My hands had lost almost all feeling. “You had better clean up though.” Ms. Wakefield indicated her urine splattered skin. “I’m very sorry Ms. Wakefield,” I apologized and immediately set to licking my piss from her whip arm. When I had finished sucking up every last drop from her gorgeous body she pointed to the floor. Great puddles of my warm yellow piss covered the bare wooden planks. I sank to my knees and began sucking my urine up from the floor. I felt like such a dirty whore! When I had completed this task I looked up to see Ms. Wakefield holding a bizarre assemblage of rubber cocks, leather belts and brass buckles.
“Help me into this,” she commanded. It was a strap-on dildo, but far more complicated than the only one I had seen at picture of. This one must have been custom made. One of the black rubber penises was huge, at least ten inches long and very fat. It was mounted on a thick triangle of brown leather. The other two dildos were a few inches shorter and not quite as thick. One was attached on the reverse side of the bottom of the triangle. The other just below it, to the lower strap. What puzzled me was a clear plastic tube only slightly above the topmost double dildo. I was unclear as to how to assist her.
“Steady it for me,” Ms. Wakefield instructed as she fingered her vagina before smearing her anus with her cunt juice. I took hold of the big front cock with both hands. My thumbs and forefingers could not meet, such was the girth of the rubber member. She positioned the two inner dildos; the top one at the entrance to her cunt and the bottom one to her arse hole. “Aaaaaaaaah!” she sighed as she slowly pushed them up herself. When she had them halfway up, she stopped and took hold of the end of the plastic tube. After applying more vaginal lubrication to the tube’ s rounded end, she held her labia open and inserted it carefully into her urethra. I then understood that the piss hole at the end of the artificial penis was not just for show. With a little maneuvering, the triangle was flush with her genital mound. All three of her lower orifices were penetrated. “Buckle the straps around my waist and then attach the one between my legs to the waist straps.” Ms. Wakefield held the harness in place while I carried out her instructions. “Do it tighter,” she insisted. “The little bumps that press against my clitoris must be held firmly in place.”
When I had tightened the harness as much as I could, Ms. Wakefield walked around experimentally. The big black cock had become part of her. It was as if it was her cock, bobbing up and down with the rhythm of her step. She looked so obscene, her ultra femininity contrasting rudely with her huge penis. She stopped and stroked it lovingly; wanking herself. I just stood there adoring her, too mesmerized to experience the fear I should have. “Come here!” she suddenly barked at me. The fear returned and I obeyed. “Down on your knees!” she snarled, standing with her hands on her hips. From my position of subservience she towered above me, the eye of her penis staring at me, inches from my face.
“Keep your hands behind your back. Now, suck my cock!” I licked around the glans of her rubber penis. Then opening my mouth as wide as I could, I just managed to enclose the head of her cock. My mouth was literally stuffed with rubber cock. “Deeper you bitch! Suck me properly.” I was endeavouring to take more, achieving just a little, when she grabbed me impatiently by my hair and rammed her strap-on right to the back of my throat. I started to gag and tried to pull away, but Ms. Wakefield screwed my head even harder on to her cock. I was choking on it! Now I tried frantically to escape her, disobeying her order to keep my hands behind me. I couldn’t free myself. I couldn’t breathe either, but she was still trying to jam her cock into my throat! Dots started to swim in front of my eyes and I was fading before she gave up. My throat simply wasn’t big enough.
Ms. Wakefield pushed me angrily onto my back. The results of her whip stung fiercely as I hit the floor. “Spread your legs slut, I’m going to fuck you!” “Oh God!” I whimpered, edging backwards like a crippled spider. With one stride she threw herself on top of me, levering my thighs apart with her knees. “Oh no! Please don’t!” She held me down while lining her black penis up with my poor whipped vagina. While I knew that I really wanted to be fucked, I feared her enormous dildo would rupture my tight little cunt. “AAAUUURGHHHH, IT HURTS!” I shrieked as she pushed her huge cock up me. Ms. Wakefield grunted in satisfaction, shoving her strap-on dildo as hard as she could into my tender slit. My little fuck tunnel was stretched open near to bursting point! With each thrust she increased the depth of her stroke until she was ramming the head of her cock against my cervix. I was amazed that I could take it. I cried with the pain, but it felt good too. I especially enjoyed having her on top of me, her big tits bouncing in front of my face while she fucked me.
“You like this, don’t you bitch?” she demanded. “Y.yes Ms Wakefield. It hurts, but I love it!” I moaned. “Tell me how you like it?” she insisted, lust in her eyes. “I like… I like it hard! I like your big cock hard up my cunt! Please fuck me senseless!” Ms. Wakefield was ecstatic at my words and began fucking me faster. She was breathing hard and looking very excited. “You really like it to hurt? Would you like me to hurt you more?” she asked. “Oh yes! Please hurt me more! I want you to rape me!” I pleaded. I could feel myself close to cumming again. “Very well. Get on your knees!” Ms. Wakefield had pulled herself out and was rolling me over before I could react to her words. “No! Oh no!” I yelled, as I realised what was about to happen. “You did say rape… and raped you shall be!” she hissed venomously.
Despite all my terrified attempts to break free, Ms. Wakefield’s grip on my waist was immovable. As I felt the head of her hard rubber penis against my virgin anus, I knew true horror. “OOOWWWW! HELP! PLEASE HELP ME!” I begged, calling piteously for assistance that didn’t exist. Ms. Wakefield pushed slowly but irresistibly against my little pink brown hole, opening it wider and wider. “UUUUURRRRHH! DON’T! PLEASE DON’T!” My tight anal ring stretched until it was as taut as a drum skin, yet still the head of her penis could not fully enter. My anus just couldn’t expand any further. Ms. Wakefield growled in frustration, “I – will – fuck – your – arse!” She gripped my pelvis with her cruelly strong fingers and thrust with all her might. “HHHUUUUUUUAAAAAAARRRRGGGHHHHHH!!!” my throat burned with my ragged animal scream. I felt my anus tear as she forced her enormous cock to burst through and penetrate deep into my rectum! “Ah yes, you little whore,” Ms. Wakefield cried with triumph, “take my cock!” I screamed myself hoarse as she sodomized me violently. Her hips banged hard against my buttocks each time her cock went right up my poor violated bum. Her penis felt like a red hot knife; a knife she was stabbing my rectum with.
“OH Ms. WAKEFIELD, PLEASE STOP! PLEASE TAKE IT OUT!” I howled for mercy as she raped me. I could hardly see for the tears in my eyes. “When I’ve finished… you little cunt!” She pounded into me faster and faster. I could hear her breathing like an accelerating steam engine. “When… I’ve… cum! Ah fuck… I’m doing it bitch! I’M CUMMING! I’M CUMMING UP YOUR ARSE!!!” And she was! As well as the blinding pain I could feel a torrent of her hot piss, flood into my rectum. Ms. Wakefield was pissing up my bum! This was enough to tip me over the edge. Even though the pain of anal rape was unbearable, I started to orgasm! Powerful spasms of unbelievable pleasure surged through my tits and cunt! “OH FUCK ME TO DEATH!!!” I blurted out uncontrollably as my body shook in pain and lust. Ms. Wakefield continued to bugger me, pissing all the time as she climaxed. I slowly slipped into unconsciousness.
“Althea? Wake up my dear.” I came to, lying on my side, to find Ms. Wakefield bending over me. She had removed her strap-on dildo, and the rest of her sex uniform. “What…? What happened Ms Wakefield?” I was rather confused. “You passed out my poor darling girl. I was so cruel to you, but I did enjoy it! Do you forgive me?” she asked me quietly. She was holding me gently, a look of deep concern on her face. I considered briefly the abuse she had put me through before answering, “There is nothing to forgive. I… I think I love you!” A broad grin broke out on Ms. Wakefield’s face. “Oh my darling!” she cried joyfully, cradling me in her arms. We kissed, tears running down both our faces. “Let’s go to bed. We’ll have a little rest before dinner.” She helped me to my feet, then supported me as I hobbled to her bedroom.
“Ms. Wakefield, my bottom…?” “Aah, I had forgotten. Just wait right here. I’ll be back in a minute.” I lent against a dressing table, straining to hold the vast quantity of urine in my bowels. Ms. Wakefield returned promptly with a large glass jug and two wine glasses. She placed the jug on the carpet and helped me squat over it. Her piss flowed from my arse like a waterfall. I gasped at the pain of its passage through my lacerated anus, but the relief was considerable when I had finished. “My poor little baby, you’re bleeding from your arse hole!” After putting the jug and glasses on the night stand, she pulled back the covers and helped me into her bed. Carefully parting my bum cheeks, Ms Wakefield examined my anus. “It’s not too bad. Perhaps if I kiss it, I can make it better.” Ever so tenderly she kissed my arse hole. So delicately did she kiss and lick my anus, that it hardly hurt at all. I felt so very much loved. “There, all better. Hardly bleeding at all now,” she assured me, patting me gently on my rear. She poured two glasses of piss and handed one to me. “Here’s to us Althea,” she toasted, raising her glass and clinking it with mine. “To us,” I agreed, and we drained our glasses. After drinking another glass of piss each, Ms. Wakefield hugged me to her breast. I fell asleep suckling on her nipple.
– The End –