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M
montycrusto
Guest
glad I have gripped you Eulalia... Part 4 takes a dark turn
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montycrusto
Guest
you're going to love the fuck out of part 23I love this Monty! Girls all over the forum getting horny! Like me!
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montycrusto
Guest
you're going to love the fuck out of part 23, it nearly gave me a girlgasm
Hondoboot2
QUAESTOR PULCHRITUDINIS
Very interesting story montycrusto, can't wait for more chapters.
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montycrusto
Guest
Thank you my friend. Part 4 will be unlocked as soon as I get ten likes for part 3. Hope we don't have to wait too long!
I just finished writing part 25, and I think it's fucking hot!!
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montycrusto
Guest
come on bitches, one more like and I'll shoot part 4 all over your screens! It's a good one! 
M
montycrusto
Guest
Thanks TopCat, you just unlocked part 4. Cheers!
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montycrusto
Guest
Part 4
She stood, relieved, as he unplugged the cable from the leather helmet. “Was that all just…”
“Please remain silent. You are Prisoner Twelve. You will obey orders from this point. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Doctor, if you...”
“You will address all staff members as “Sir” or “Ma’am.” He paused. “Do you understand, Prisoner Twelve?”
Rachel nodded, wondering if it was too late to back out of this so far rather unpleasant experience.
“Answer me, Prisoner!”
“Um… yes, sir…”
“Louder”
“Yes, sir!”
She looked over at her bag and coat, seriously thinking about walking out. Her hands went up to the straps securing the helmet around her head, but she couldn’t quite work out how to undo them, and her trembling fingers were next to useless. At that moment, however, a loud knock was heard, at the door, and, not waiting to be invited, a large, muscular man with a shaven head entered, nodded to Dr Kay, and stood rather menacingly between Rachel and the door. This seemed to lessen the likelihood of her being able to leave.
Oh God, she thought, was this it? The moment she had been longing for but also dreading, when she would be taken by force and imprisoned? Her mouth went very dry, and she dropped her hands to her sides. The newcomer looked extremely strong. He wore dark grey military-style trousers, and a dark shirt, and carried on a clip at his waist what looked like a sort of police baton or truncheon. He looked Rachel up and down.
“This is Prisoner Twelve” the Doctor said. He didn’t bother to tell Rachel the name of the man who filled the doorway, folding his meaty arms and smiling; it was not a pleasant smile.
“Very nice, Doctor, you’re spoiling me,” his voice and his accent were coarse. She quailed under his gaze, cursing herself again for dressing in such stupid and provocative clothes. She was not feeling horny any more, just frightened. She backed away from him, towards the chair where her coat and bag were.
“I think, Doctor, that on reflection…”
“Shut up, you stupid bitch”, the un-named man growled, “Come here!”
“No, really, I…”
“Shut the fuck up. You fucking call me Sir, got that?”
Rachel hesitated, one hand on her bag.
“Prisoner Twelve,” said the Doctor quietly, “I do strongly advise you to follow orders given to you. Your stay with us is likely to be unpleasant, if you don’t.”
She looked at the Doctor, silently begging him not to give her over into the power of this brutal man, who now unfolded his arms and rested one large hand on the handle of his baton.
“Don’t make me fucking come and get you,” he said, ”leave that shit there and get your little cunt over here right now. Say ‘yes Sir’.”
Shocked by his abusive language, she stammered, “yes, Sir…”
“I can’t fucking hear you, cock-sucker. And get the fuck over here now, I won’t tell you again.”
The man drew his baton out and slapped the end into his palm in a gesture that could not have been more threatening. It was a long black rod with a blunt end, and two handles; one at the narrow end and another sticking out at right-angles about a third of the way along its length.
“Yeah you take a good look at this baton, you little bitch. It’s called a nightstick. This stick is your lord and master for the next few days, and you are its fucking slave. Now move it, unless you want to find out what it’s like to be raped by one of these things!”
His crude language and cruel manner stunned her. Reluctantly she approached the heavy-set man, whose eyes travelled up and down her body in a clearly lascivious way. She stopped just out of his reach. He slowly and deliberately raised the heavy, black baton, placing the blunt end of it just below her chin, and applying upward pressure. Rachel raised her chin, looking up at the ceiling, just hoping this maniac would not take it into his head to punch her in the stomach or something; he certainly seemed capable of that kind of assault. The stick was withdrawn, and she slowly lowered her head and looked at him. His face bore an ugly expression, seemingly lust mixed with barely-restrained violence. Oh God, what had she got herself into?
The guard leaned forward until he was looking directly into Rachel’s eyes, his fleshy face uncomfortably close to hers. The blunt end of the nightstick poked between her breasts, pressing the fabric of her cropped top back against her breastbone. She thought better of trying to push it away, resigning herself to obedience, at least until she could get away from this obviously dangerous man.
“Prisoner Twelve,” he said, quite softly, “turn the fuck around and put your hands on your head.”
She stood, relieved, as he unplugged the cable from the leather helmet. “Was that all just…”
“Please remain silent. You are Prisoner Twelve. You will obey orders from this point. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Doctor, if you...”
“You will address all staff members as “Sir” or “Ma’am.” He paused. “Do you understand, Prisoner Twelve?”
Rachel nodded, wondering if it was too late to back out of this so far rather unpleasant experience.
“Answer me, Prisoner!”
“Um… yes, sir…”
“Louder”
“Yes, sir!”
She looked over at her bag and coat, seriously thinking about walking out. Her hands went up to the straps securing the helmet around her head, but she couldn’t quite work out how to undo them, and her trembling fingers were next to useless. At that moment, however, a loud knock was heard, at the door, and, not waiting to be invited, a large, muscular man with a shaven head entered, nodded to Dr Kay, and stood rather menacingly between Rachel and the door. This seemed to lessen the likelihood of her being able to leave.
Oh God, she thought, was this it? The moment she had been longing for but also dreading, when she would be taken by force and imprisoned? Her mouth went very dry, and she dropped her hands to her sides. The newcomer looked extremely strong. He wore dark grey military-style trousers, and a dark shirt, and carried on a clip at his waist what looked like a sort of police baton or truncheon. He looked Rachel up and down.
“This is Prisoner Twelve” the Doctor said. He didn’t bother to tell Rachel the name of the man who filled the doorway, folding his meaty arms and smiling; it was not a pleasant smile.
“Very nice, Doctor, you’re spoiling me,” his voice and his accent were coarse. She quailed under his gaze, cursing herself again for dressing in such stupid and provocative clothes. She was not feeling horny any more, just frightened. She backed away from him, towards the chair where her coat and bag were.
“I think, Doctor, that on reflection…”
“Shut up, you stupid bitch”, the un-named man growled, “Come here!”
“No, really, I…”
“Shut the fuck up. You fucking call me Sir, got that?”
Rachel hesitated, one hand on her bag.
“Prisoner Twelve,” said the Doctor quietly, “I do strongly advise you to follow orders given to you. Your stay with us is likely to be unpleasant, if you don’t.”
She looked at the Doctor, silently begging him not to give her over into the power of this brutal man, who now unfolded his arms and rested one large hand on the handle of his baton.
“Don’t make me fucking come and get you,” he said, ”leave that shit there and get your little cunt over here right now. Say ‘yes Sir’.”
Shocked by his abusive language, she stammered, “yes, Sir…”
“I can’t fucking hear you, cock-sucker. And get the fuck over here now, I won’t tell you again.”
The man drew his baton out and slapped the end into his palm in a gesture that could not have been more threatening. It was a long black rod with a blunt end, and two handles; one at the narrow end and another sticking out at right-angles about a third of the way along its length.
“Yeah you take a good look at this baton, you little bitch. It’s called a nightstick. This stick is your lord and master for the next few days, and you are its fucking slave. Now move it, unless you want to find out what it’s like to be raped by one of these things!”
His crude language and cruel manner stunned her. Reluctantly she approached the heavy-set man, whose eyes travelled up and down her body in a clearly lascivious way. She stopped just out of his reach. He slowly and deliberately raised the heavy, black baton, placing the blunt end of it just below her chin, and applying upward pressure. Rachel raised her chin, looking up at the ceiling, just hoping this maniac would not take it into his head to punch her in the stomach or something; he certainly seemed capable of that kind of assault. The stick was withdrawn, and she slowly lowered her head and looked at him. His face bore an ugly expression, seemingly lust mixed with barely-restrained violence. Oh God, what had she got herself into?
The guard leaned forward until he was looking directly into Rachel’s eyes, his fleshy face uncomfortably close to hers. The blunt end of the nightstick poked between her breasts, pressing the fabric of her cropped top back against her breastbone. She thought better of trying to push it away, resigning herself to obedience, at least until she could get away from this obviously dangerous man.
“Prisoner Twelve,” he said, quite softly, “turn the fuck around and put your hands on your head.”
M
montycrusto
Guest
another ten likes for part 5
You have 670 looks on four posts. I haven't noticed you shot-gunning likes to others... Sort of tacky...another ten likes for part 5
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montycrusto
Guest
fair point
I apologize; I can be a dick sometimes, and this story has been kicking my ass for weeks
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Don't worry too much about likes, Monty. The number of likes you get may be more dependent on who's about rather than how good or popular your post is.
I write what I like. If other people like it, that's a bonus!
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montycrusto
Guest
Wise words. I'll fetch the whip and go stand by the post...Don't worry too much about likes, Monty. The number of likes you get may be more dependent on who's about rather than how good or popular your post is.
I write what I like. If other people like it, that's a bonus!
jacksjg89
PROCRASTINATOR
Love the story. And I feel you. I've started writing stories and stopped because I felt no one was paying attention. I doesn't do much for ones confidence. I do think a better method is to shamelessly plug yourself on other post.
"Oh, here's this pic of a naked girl with a helmut, reminds me of a story I'm writing" then ad a link and a wink.
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montycrusto
Guest
***orgasms***
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montycrusto
Guest
Part 5
Rachel stiffened, but turned away from him quickly, and with some relief; his face was too unnerving. Her skirt flared out as she spun round to face away from him. Doctor Kay was watching with an amused expression on his face. She placed her hands on her head, feeling the unfamiliar contours of the leather helmet, which she had all but forgotten about.
“Quite a little cock-tease isn’t she Doc?” said the guard. The Doctor grinned, and said,
“I can see she is in good hands.”
“Too right. Me and Mr. Nightstick will give this fuck-bag exactly what she needs”
Rachel stood very still as she felt the cold nightstick touch her thigh and move upwards, catching and lifting her skirt. She knew better than to move her hands, and looked away from the Doctor, focusing instead on the chair bearing her coat and bag – her links with normality. She suddenly wished to be back at home in her pyjamas, watching the television or making a coffee, and the feeling overwhelmed her and forced a tear from the edge of her eye. She shut her eyes tightly. The nightstick was withdrawn, allowing her skirt to flop down again, not that that made her feel any less vulnerable. Then its cold touch came again, this time on the inside of her thigh, travelling upwards as before, and lifting her skirt. She heard a low whistle from the guard.
“Hoowee, this is a fucking nice bit of tail right here, Doc… You want me to make her suck you off before we go?”
“No that won’t be necessary, thank you, Mr. Dane. Let’s get her to the facility.” The Doctor started gathering papers and closing down his computer.
Rachel stood very erect, her hands on her helmeted head, her tight black crop top showing off her belly and shoulders, and her short faux-leather skirt held obscenely up behind her by the guard’s nightstick. The guard moved the tip of the baton up and down a little until it found the waistband of her knickers, then he angled the stick downwards, pushing it in between her buttocks and inside her underwear. She could barely breathe at this slow, wordless, lewd assault of her person.
“Are you going to be a good girl, Prisoner Twelve?” said the guard, “because I’m looking for a reason to beat the living crap out of your worthless hide.”
He levelled the stick, which pulled her panties downwards at the back, and she felt the tip of the brutal instrument slide forward beneath her crotch until it pressed against the inside of her panties at the front. Then he angled the stick upwards, moving the tip upwards over her pussy and out over the waistband of her knickers at the front. “You and me will have some fun times over at the facility. Just three more things to do before we go; here’s number one!” With that, the guard returned the stick to a horizontal position and swiftly pushed downwards, pulling Rachel’s panties down to lie around her ankles. She was unable to stifle a sob, but managed to keep her hands on her head, as ordered.
“Shut the fuck up, Prisoner Twelve, you don’t need them where you’re going. Get fucking used to it if you know what’s good for you. Now, you little shit-bag, put your arms behind your back, and I want to hear you say ‘yes, sir’ this time” She sobbed for real now, as she dropped her arms to her sides, and reluctantly, hesitantly, placed her wrists on her buttocks, now covered only by the brief skirt. She heard the guard forage in a side pocket of his combat trousers, and heard the tell-tale clink of chain that signified that she was about to be handcuffed.
As the felt the cold metal pressed around her wrists, she sobbed once more, and when the fatal click announced that her wrists were locked behind her, she let out a low moan of despair. This was not how she had imagined it so many times, the moment of surrendering power over herself. Instead of excitement, she felt only dread. This man was too powerful, too unpredictable, and she had probably placed herself in real danger.
“I didn’t hear you, bitch”
“Sorry sir, yes sir,” she gulped.
“Too late, you fucking stupid cow. You just earned yourself a punishment.” He lifted her skirt and slapped her, hard across her bare buttock. “That’s just a taster. You can have the rest when we get to the facility. Don’t you think I’m going to forget, because punishing you is going to be the fucking highlight of my day! Oh, and there’s one more thing,” He placed his hands on her bare shoulders and spun her around to face him. Her skirt flared up again, giving the two men a momentary glimpse of her shaven pussy. Rachel moaned in humiliation and fear, her chained wrists clicking together behind her. The guard produced a black cloth sack from another pocket and whipped it over her head. It had a draw-string which he pulled tight round her neck, shutting out even the smallest bit of light. “We’re going for a little drive, cunt, and I don’t want you looking out of the window, got it?” He paused, jabbing the nightstick lightly into her bare midriff. “Got it, Prisoner Twelve?”
“Yes sir”, she said quietly, her voice muffled by the bag. The guard placed one hand round the back of her neck and growled into her ear, “Step out of your knickers, I don’t want you falling on your face before I’ve fucked it”. Her panties were still round her ankles; she stepped out of them as best she could without being able to see anything, though the guard’s huge hand on the nape of her neck steadied her.
“Ready, Doctor?”
“Ready when you are, Mr. Dane, let’s go.”
Rachel suddenly remembered her coat, and her bag with all her essentials in, and began to protest. “My bag…”
This earned her a painful blow with the nightstick across the breasts; “Shut your fucking pie-hole you little cum-sucker. I only want to hear one thing come out of your fucking mouth, and that’s “yes, sir”. You use it for anything else, and I might start thinking of other uses for your bitch mouth too. Now move it!”
The Doctor opened the door into the corridor, and the guard pushed Rachel roughly out, keeping one hand tightly on the back of her neck and wrapping the other around her upper arm. She staggered helplessly as he bent her forward at the waist, turning her to the right and pushing her along the corridor. Behind them, the Doctor locked his office and followed.
Rachel stiffened, but turned away from him quickly, and with some relief; his face was too unnerving. Her skirt flared out as she spun round to face away from him. Doctor Kay was watching with an amused expression on his face. She placed her hands on her head, feeling the unfamiliar contours of the leather helmet, which she had all but forgotten about.
“Quite a little cock-tease isn’t she Doc?” said the guard. The Doctor grinned, and said,
“I can see she is in good hands.”
“Too right. Me and Mr. Nightstick will give this fuck-bag exactly what she needs”
Rachel stood very still as she felt the cold nightstick touch her thigh and move upwards, catching and lifting her skirt. She knew better than to move her hands, and looked away from the Doctor, focusing instead on the chair bearing her coat and bag – her links with normality. She suddenly wished to be back at home in her pyjamas, watching the television or making a coffee, and the feeling overwhelmed her and forced a tear from the edge of her eye. She shut her eyes tightly. The nightstick was withdrawn, allowing her skirt to flop down again, not that that made her feel any less vulnerable. Then its cold touch came again, this time on the inside of her thigh, travelling upwards as before, and lifting her skirt. She heard a low whistle from the guard.
“Hoowee, this is a fucking nice bit of tail right here, Doc… You want me to make her suck you off before we go?”
“No that won’t be necessary, thank you, Mr. Dane. Let’s get her to the facility.” The Doctor started gathering papers and closing down his computer.
Rachel stood very erect, her hands on her helmeted head, her tight black crop top showing off her belly and shoulders, and her short faux-leather skirt held obscenely up behind her by the guard’s nightstick. The guard moved the tip of the baton up and down a little until it found the waistband of her knickers, then he angled the stick downwards, pushing it in between her buttocks and inside her underwear. She could barely breathe at this slow, wordless, lewd assault of her person.
“Are you going to be a good girl, Prisoner Twelve?” said the guard, “because I’m looking for a reason to beat the living crap out of your worthless hide.”
He levelled the stick, which pulled her panties downwards at the back, and she felt the tip of the brutal instrument slide forward beneath her crotch until it pressed against the inside of her panties at the front. Then he angled the stick upwards, moving the tip upwards over her pussy and out over the waistband of her knickers at the front. “You and me will have some fun times over at the facility. Just three more things to do before we go; here’s number one!” With that, the guard returned the stick to a horizontal position and swiftly pushed downwards, pulling Rachel’s panties down to lie around her ankles. She was unable to stifle a sob, but managed to keep her hands on her head, as ordered.
“Shut the fuck up, Prisoner Twelve, you don’t need them where you’re going. Get fucking used to it if you know what’s good for you. Now, you little shit-bag, put your arms behind your back, and I want to hear you say ‘yes, sir’ this time” She sobbed for real now, as she dropped her arms to her sides, and reluctantly, hesitantly, placed her wrists on her buttocks, now covered only by the brief skirt. She heard the guard forage in a side pocket of his combat trousers, and heard the tell-tale clink of chain that signified that she was about to be handcuffed.
As the felt the cold metal pressed around her wrists, she sobbed once more, and when the fatal click announced that her wrists were locked behind her, she let out a low moan of despair. This was not how she had imagined it so many times, the moment of surrendering power over herself. Instead of excitement, she felt only dread. This man was too powerful, too unpredictable, and she had probably placed herself in real danger.
“I didn’t hear you, bitch”
“Sorry sir, yes sir,” she gulped.
“Too late, you fucking stupid cow. You just earned yourself a punishment.” He lifted her skirt and slapped her, hard across her bare buttock. “That’s just a taster. You can have the rest when we get to the facility. Don’t you think I’m going to forget, because punishing you is going to be the fucking highlight of my day! Oh, and there’s one more thing,” He placed his hands on her bare shoulders and spun her around to face him. Her skirt flared up again, giving the two men a momentary glimpse of her shaven pussy. Rachel moaned in humiliation and fear, her chained wrists clicking together behind her. The guard produced a black cloth sack from another pocket and whipped it over her head. It had a draw-string which he pulled tight round her neck, shutting out even the smallest bit of light. “We’re going for a little drive, cunt, and I don’t want you looking out of the window, got it?” He paused, jabbing the nightstick lightly into her bare midriff. “Got it, Prisoner Twelve?”
“Yes sir”, she said quietly, her voice muffled by the bag. The guard placed one hand round the back of her neck and growled into her ear, “Step out of your knickers, I don’t want you falling on your face before I’ve fucked it”. Her panties were still round her ankles; she stepped out of them as best she could without being able to see anything, though the guard’s huge hand on the nape of her neck steadied her.
“Ready, Doctor?”
“Ready when you are, Mr. Dane, let’s go.”
Rachel suddenly remembered her coat, and her bag with all her essentials in, and began to protest. “My bag…”
This earned her a painful blow with the nightstick across the breasts; “Shut your fucking pie-hole you little cum-sucker. I only want to hear one thing come out of your fucking mouth, and that’s “yes, sir”. You use it for anything else, and I might start thinking of other uses for your bitch mouth too. Now move it!”
The Doctor opened the door into the corridor, and the guard pushed Rachel roughly out, keeping one hand tightly on the back of her neck and wrapping the other around her upper arm. She staggered helplessly as he bent her forward at the waist, turning her to the right and pushing her along the corridor. Behind them, the Doctor locked his office and followed.
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montycrusto
Guest
Thank you JR; I hope you like the next chapter.Great story so far. I've only just caught up. She's got herself into something nasty here. Very realistic emotional reactions.