The Thief, pt. 3

She regained consciousness slowly, aware of a deep chill on her tits, and the inability to move even an inch. She tried rolling over, but the hogtie position didn’t allow for that, and the tight rope around her neck discouraged any enthusiastic movements. She tried screaming, but then memory began returning. He had re-gagged her, after releasing her legs from the headboard of the bed.

Pulling out the ball gag had been such a relief, and she tried to talk to him to explain…but when he turned back to her, she saw the washcloth in his hand, knew his intent. She fought, as much as she was able. Hands still tied to the bed, legs tied together, she tossed her head from side to side, while he, smiling asshole that he was, gathered a fistful of her long locks, and wound them around his fist. Tighter and tighter he pulled, until his fist was tight against her temple, and she could only moan in agony. Slowly he inserted the washcloth into her mouth, and when she, in her panic, tried to bite at his fingers as they packed the cloth deeper into her cheeks, he slapped her hard across her face. No malice, just a strong admonishment. Her cheek burned from the blow, her eyes stung with tears.

Then the tape. Shiny silver duct tape, which he tore easily from the roll in his valise. Smoothing it carefully across her mouth, he stared into her eyes. She was completely unnerved, her heart thumping wildly. What could he do to her that he’d not already done, she wondered.

She jolted when his hands caressed her tits, pulled at her nipples. He’d fucked her already, this was true, and damn him, it had been the best sex she’d ever had in her life. She didn’t understand the allure of her powerless state and how it had enhanced her sexual arousal, but it had been smoking hot sex.

Now his hands were cruel, twisting her  nipples and pulling them far from her chest. She moaned behind the gag, then began tossing her head  and muttering “no-no-no-” behind her gag when she saw him pick up the chain with the clamps on each end. At the first bite of the clamp, she arched up off the bed, squealing.

“Oh suck it up, sugarplum” he said to her, and gave her tit a hard smack.  He carefully attached the other end of the chain, ignoring her tears, and the faintest of cries from behind the new gag. He slapped her other tit.

“To balance them” he said with a chuckle. He traced the red marks his hands had left with a fingertip, drawing a shudder from her. He looked at her, tied, gagged, clamped, and beautiful in her fear. The tracing finger went from one breast to the other, sliding down one slope across the valley and up the other.

“These tits really are magnificent, “he mused aloud. He chuckled at her mewling response as  his finger flicking her clamped nipple. “You’re very responsive, slut” he said aloud, “and I bet, I just bet, that if  my finger took the southern trail, it would find a flood of pussy juice leaking out of you, wouldn’t it?”

She shook her head, vehemently. She was not turned on. She was not turned on. She was not…He held up his finger, slid it down her slit, and brought it to her nose. He wiped the wetness that covered his finger around and in her nostrils.

“See? Didn’t I tell you? Wet. No,– you’re more than just wet. Drenched! You are one horny slut.”  Still holding her eyes, he slapped her mons several times; hard, loud smacks that reverberated around the room, and deep into her core. Her breathing deepened, her eyes darkened.

“More?”  he asked softly, his hand poised above her pussy. She stared at him. He waited. One heart beat. Two. There. Her head nodded, the barest fraction. He slapped her again. And again. And again. Her eyes closed, squeezed tightly shut against her coming orgasm, when he stopped. Laughed.

“That’s way, way too easy, slut. You’re going to have to work for the next orgasm I decide you can have.”  She glared at him, her eyes shooting dark blue sparks at him. He was in control and she knew it and hated it, even as her body proved the opposite.

Quickly he released her from the bed, then dragged her into the bathroom. He let her pee, although it was terribly hard to do so while he watched her. Leaning into the corner, arms crossed, ankles crossed, he was the picture of relaxation. He smiled mockingly at her.

“Trouble starting? Should I turn on the water spigot? ” She shook her head, blushing. Her aching bladder was no match for her embarrassment,  however, and soon a torrent poured from her.

“Guess you should have gone a bit easier on the soda while you were looking for your mark downstairs, eh?” he mocked her discomfiture. She was mortified when he took the toilet tissue and pulling her from the toilet,  bent her over his knee, braced on the edge of the tub, and wiped her from behind. Her blush covered her from face to tit.

“Modesty, now? Tut tut, sugarplum,” he teased her. ” A bit late for all of this blushing, don’t you think?” And he chucked her under her chin like an infant, and laughed at her. She glared, but that only made him laugh harder.

 With her ankles tied tightly together, and her wrists secured behind her she was fully dependent on him to move her around. She was shocked when he laid her on her tummy on the bathroom floor. The marble was icy cold. The soft chink of her nipple chain on the floor was the only sound as she felt him doing something behind her. She felt her feet rising ,and an increased pull on her  wrists, and realised he was hogtieing her. A final loop of rope drew around her throat.

“You’ll be fine if you don’t struggle. If you do,  you will choke.   Room service will be  here shortly. Once they have set up my lunch, I may consider letting you have something to eat. Be a good girl and be quiet. The better behaved you are, the faster you earn that orgasm your pussy is dying for.” With that, he left the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind him.

She could not believe that arrogant, fucking son-of-a-bitch BASTARD! Who the holy FUCK did he think he was. Lousy goddamn fucker!! She barely heard the knock on the outer door of the room through her rage. She heard his voice, pleasantly modulated, as he greeted the server. She tried to cry out, to writhe closer to the door to bang on it with her trussed body, but her increasing struggles drew the noose on her neck tighter, and tighter still. She felt her breath hitch, her vision began to blur, then speckles of darkness began to play before her, and she passed out. 

She woke to silence. She was shivering now, her tits freezing, despite the burning heat from her tormented nipples. How long had she been in here? It felt like hours.

The door opened, and she tried to crane her neck back further to see him. He slapped her leg, and began to unfasten her. Taking a fistful of hair, he pulled her to her feet, unmindful of her cramping legs and aching arms. As he loosened the noose from her neck, he grinned.

“Had to prove me right again, eh slut? Had a nice nap then, did you?” She wanted to kick the laugh right out of him, but she didn’t dare.  He led her to where a small table was set for one.  He halted her, then, moving the table from in front of the chair, he pushed her to stand facing the chair. Pushing  firmly on her shoulders,he brought  her to her knees. Behind her, she heard the distinctive sound of a zipper being drawn down.  Then the sound of one leg, and the other being pulled from jeans. Stepping around and over her, he sat in the chair. Naked, his magnificent cock there, just in front of her hungering mouth.  Her eyes locked on it, then looked up at him.

“Told you I’d give you something to eat, slut. Now get to work. And you don’t want to know what I’ll do if you use teeth.

He was right.  She didn’t want to know.  She felt like the slut he kept calling her as she bent to her task, bent to his will, bent to her need to have that cock in her mouth. Damn him. Damn him. Damn her. And damn her traitorous leaking pussy. She ate. She feasted. She enjoyed every moment and made certain he did, too.