AFTER HER FIRST WHIPPING ... Part 15
I wanted the rain to stop and now it had. It wasn’t because I felt any sympathy for this Little Girl’s plight, no not all, far from it … the way she suffered was my nirvana, my turn on … I wanted it to stop raining because I needed fire!
At this time of year the twilight was with us by 3pm and it was dark within sixty minutes. However, when we have a day consumed by the cover of pendulous clouds like we had today, then it became gloomy shortly after lunch and, although it was only 2pm, in the eye of a dense woodland like we were now, the light had almost disappeared.
Perfect … fire for the heat and light … and for the pain.
Having checked the contents of the bag for the finale, my
‘pièce de résistance’ if you will, I had zipped it back up. There was something else that I needed to do first, something that my groin, and more to the point my erection, was insisting upon.
The girl looked dead, and though I knew she wasn’t, her lifeless appearance fuelled my hard-on to bursting point.
I untied her ankles and then released the tied-off end of the rope that was fastened around her wrists. She fell to the ground with a thud and a groan, of course she did.
I stood over her and reaching down I dragged her back up by the roots of her hair. A short while earlier the same movements and hold on her had resulted in frantic grasping and grappling on her part, but now there was nothing. My Little Girl had become my Little Rag Doll.
“Stand,” I ordered, hoping that she had at least some semblance of conscious recognition.
And she did, just, getting slowly to her feet while I tied off the wrist rope again, but this time leaving her standing on the wet, soggy ground.
Her eyes rolled and her head slumped forward as she toppled over, her knees buckling leaving her hanging by the wrists.
With a malicious grin I switched on the egg vibe. A jerk followed by a bodily convulsion was all I got. A higher speed was needed, top speed … ultimate vibration.
A groan, and then another, more powerful convulsion. Her hips writhed and her eyes opened wide.
“That’s it, that’s better girl … feel it inside you, feel it deep.”
And now she was wide awake, and squirming.
“Pl … please, please Mister …”
“Please what Little Girl?” I replied.
“Let me cum, please, pleeeeease …” And she almost did, right then.
Almost.
I switched off the vibe and paused to relish her cry of desperation beyond frustration. Then, moving to her, I ripped away the duct tape covering her slit. She groaned long and loud as my fingers dug into her cunt so that I could retrieve the insidious little toy.
Stepping around to her front, I reached inside my waterproofs, unfastened my jeans and whipped out my hard cock and full-again balls.
I looked into her eyes as I grabbed her thighs and pulled her upwards, her legs locking around me.
“Keep looking at me,” I growled as the swollen head of my erection pushed at her, and then, having positioned the shaft appropriately, with a thrust of my hips, I buried myself deep and to the hilt in her warmth and wetness.
“Nghhhhhhh,” was all the response I got, but she was so high on desire so that when the upward angle of my penetration pushed against her clit, it took hardly any time for her to bite away at my waterproofs and thrust her exquisitely beaten body back at me.
“Cum for me, cum now Little Girl.”
And she did.
And then, so did I.
Oh, fuck it was so good, so damn good, and in that brief moment of shared ecstasy, as she cried out, I truly loved her.
Thrusting my pleasure, each slamming home of my groin resulting in another copious shot of thick, white seed being injected deep inside her body.
“Fuck you Little Girl, fuck you hard,” was my mantra as I did just that.
Sated I staggered away from her hanging form, now limp once more. My cock dripping with sperm as was her cunt, our mutual juices flowing onto her thighs to mix with the drying blood.
“Fuck, I needed that,” I gasped to her replacing my cock inside my waterproofs, but it might as well have been to myself as her head drooped once more.
Smiling I moved to the bag which had been left propped on a large rock. Now it was time … from this there would be no coming back. No papering over what has happened here today in the woods. This would cause mental and physical anguish all in one dangerous swoop … it was the stuff nightmares are made of, or fantasies, depending upon your predilection!
Unzipping the bag I pulled out the box of wooden skewers, you know the sort that are used to hold a good club sandwich together, or secure a tasty skewered chicken and mushroom cocktail, or pineapple and cheese or whatever. But today I had a more nefarious use for them.
“Wh … what …” I looked up as a quiet sound came from the newly raised head of my poor Little Girl.
“Wh … what am I doing?” I finished off her sentence in mocking tones.
I got to my feet and strode across to stand contemptuously in front of my trembling, shivering and terrified looking, prize.
“So, my Little Girl, you came here filled with intent, determined to prove that what I had was what you wanted. I ask you now … was it?”
“Unnghhh, I dnnnnnt,” her words were slurred and incomprehensible, until a casual punch to her stomach temporarily robbed her of all breath.
I grabbed her hair, held her face inches from mine, and once more I kissed her. But this time there was no reciprocation, no open mouth, no tongues, just a single, desperate groan of exhaustion.
Then she screamed and looking down her body to see that in my left hand I was squeezing her right breast, puckering the nipple, whilst with my left hand I was pushing one of the sharpened cocktail sticks through her distended teat.
She cried out and shook wildly in her bonds.
“Keep still or it will hurt all the more girl,” I instructed her patronisingly.
She fought for breath, yelling even louder as I pushed harder, breaking the skin of the nipple causing a trickle of fresh blood to ooze out.
“No, fuck stop!” She begged. But her pleas just made me all the more determined and with the final exertion committed on my part, the sharpened stick slid into place through the nipple, bringing forth a desperate, high pitched scream from my delightful, hanging victim. I waited until the screams died away giving rise to one long continuous groan.
Now for the left nipple, the one with the knife cut through the aureole … this one I would enjoy the most.
I heard her gasp as the sharpened wooden point pushed into her breast. Deeper into the firm flesh this time because I needed to get under the cut. It was harder and the more I pushed the more she screamed, until her flesh was punctured and the skewer slid home, and more blood oozed from the open cut.
“Oh fuck,” she managed to utter, now panting hard, her breasts bejewelled by the symmetry of the wooden needle lengths, Beautiful.
It was with my widest grin of the day that I took out a lighter from my pocket.
“What the fuck?” Her words were much more coherent now as the true horror of my intent became clear.
“Enjoy Little Girl,” I responded as I held the lighter flame to one end of the wooden skewer that was inserted into her right breast. It soon lit with a small flame, as did the other end …
“Noooooo!” Her cries were sustenance to my needs, hers too … maybe.
I repeated the action on the other skewers and soon all four ends were alight and slowly burning towards the middle, heating up her flesh as they did so.
I moved away and unfastened the tied-off rope end before hauling her up and high, this time until she was several feet from the ground.
The effect was dramatic. Her writhing body high in the air held up only by her wrists, with the burning wooden needles lighting up the all-consuming gloom that had now descended over the woodland.
What a picture. What a delight.
What she didn’t realise, or at least I assumed she wouldn’t, was that the actual flames currently warming her breasts were not the worst of it. They would extinguish shortly as they reached the sanctity of her body where the oxygen would be reduced, but by then the wood would be smouldering and the two charred ends would continue to burn away inside her body underneath her skin, scolding the exposed nerve ends and driving her wild with untold agony.
I looked up at her, bucking and twisting on the rope, a sense of cruel satisfaction painting my features, her whole world now boiled down to this single, terror infused, point of focus and the skewers burned away.
And then it happened. The flames gave way to four small plumes of lightly coloured smoke that indicated the wood was still burning inside each breast.
“Aaaaaargh! Oh fuck, ohhhh no stop it pleeeeease!”
Fuck, she was making me hard again.
Her body convulsed, and jerked …
Fuck you little girl, fuck you hard, you fucked up fucking slut!
I touched my cock and felt the length and thickness to its girth returning. I felt all powerful watching my Little Girl’s tits burn and her body writhe.
I could hardly breathe as I watched the pain manifest all over her hung body, still nubile in its shape, and delicious in its squirming movements, as she tried, with obvious difficulty, to frantically suck air into her lungs.
The skewers took a long time to burn, and, sensing her desire to let her mind fade away I picked up a long branch to poke at her raised body, thus making sure that her senses refused to leave her, and that twisting and writhing desperately, she experienced every last moment of agony, just as I had intended she would do.
Then, finally, as the smoke dissipated and I stopped my poking of her body, she stilled … her conscious mind taken from her as her naked, beaten and severely abused body was left swinging gently in the dark wood.
It was over … for now.
