Chapter 5

When Lizbeth had calmed down from the violence of her orgasm, she thanked Robin from the bottom of her heart.

"I wish I could do something for you in return, like sucking your cock or making you come or even just stroking you, but you see...the way I am...it isn't possible."

"Thanks, I had fun making you come."

"But look at your cock! It's so big and hard. It must be very painful for you, wanting to and not being able to."

"I enjoy it this way. Besides, I want to keep it back, I may have an opportunity to use it later on your mistress. I want to reserve all my strength for whatever it is I'll need to do with her."

Despite his resolve, he found himself irresistibly drawn to action. His hand fingered the length of his shaft. The skin on it was taut, drawn smooth and thin and taut. It was excruciating. He needed relief badly. His cock was sticking straight out, pointing at the girl. Where could he stick it? Her mouth was unavailable, unless he was able to bend his cock into a fish-hook shape. Her cunt was even more hidden.

Or was it?

Tin going to fuck you again," he announced, quite matter-of-factly.

"Don't be silly. How can you fuck me? I'm all trussed up."

"Trussed up and ready for me."

"I don't...."

But he was already on her. He picked up the tied and bound body and threw her unceremoniously on her side. She lay there as he had placed her, unable to stir. Her knees were drawn up close to her chest, her head was pulled down to her knees, her ankles were close to her hams.

"Where my hands got, my prick can get to, too," Robin said.

He held his cock in his hand and advanced on her. Her cunt was presented to him, a dark chasm ready to open, neatly framed by the cheeks of her ass and the soles of her feet. He stretched himself at her side and tried to ease his big tool up her crack.

No dice! The angle was wrong. Her flexed hams were too strongly curved, and forced his body to keep a certain distance. From this angle he could never get to shove his cock up her cunt.

Without much ceremony, Robin tipped the trussed-up girl on her face. She was in a kneeling position now, her hands between her legs and her thighs, her head forward and down almost to her knees. He could tell she was uncomfortable, damned uncomfortable, but he didn't give a shit. He wanted to fuck her, he wanted to stuff her hole, he wanted to drive his prick in as far as it would go. That was all that mattered. He didn't give a shit whether she was comfortable or whether she was in excruciating pain.

He got behind her and mounted her. No good. He couldn't get it in from here either. He pushed his fingers up her cunt, lubricated it, widened it, tried to flex it in his direction. Again he presented his cock at her opening and tried to get it in. It still wouldn't work. He got it just into the moist part of her lips, just far enough to feed his urgent desires even further, but not far enough that he could do himself any good.

"Your position's wrong," he said angrily to Lizbeth. "You'll have to stretch more."

He pushed her head forward so that it came down to the rug, tugging at the chain that held her neck. She moaned with the pain but her moaning only inflamed him further. He pulled at her feet, first one and then the other, and tried to flatten her hunched profile. The lips of her cunt, deeply inflamed, were tilted further towards him now. He mounted her from the back again and his weight on her body helped to flatten her further and tilt her pelvis and with it the opening of her cunt, an extra few degrees in his direction. He leaned his weight heavily on her to flatten her. She screamed as the straps bit into her neck, her wrists and her ankles and the chains pulled them tight. He ignored her.

He had only one thought at this point, only one desire. He wanted to bury the full shaft of his cock all the way up into the recesses of her twat. If it hurt her, so much the worse for her-and so much the more exciting for him! He pushed harder, she screamed more. Her body was pouring out in sweat. She begged and cried and sobbed. His cock knew no mercy, his cock was urgent.

But his cock got nowhere. Maybe an inch inside, just to give a foretaste of bliss to the swollen purple bulb, but not enough to promise any release.

"Godammit!" he cursed. "Let me get into your cunt, will ya!" He beat her on the back and head with his clenched hands, so great was his rage and impatience.

She responded with moans and sobs.

He pressed harder with the full weight of his body, trying to flatten her body down to the floor. His cock slithered at the edge of the crack, strained, sought, searched a way in-but to no avail. His cock slipped and slithered, found a soft spot, kept pressing, gained an inch, gained two inches. ...Stop! Please stop! You're in the wrong place," she cried.

He ignored her. The entrance was constricted but it promised entrance, comfort, a wrap-around massage for his urgent ramrod of a prick.

That's not my cunt, that's my anus," the girl sobbed, piteously now.

"I don t give a shit."

"Please, please, you're hurting me."

"Just relax and it won't hurt.'

"But I can't, I can't. I really can't help it. Oh please don't. I'll do anything for you. Leave me alone now. Please leave me. I'll help you when Arbella comes back. I'll do whatever you want. But let me go now. You're going to hurt me. You'll tear me."

His answer was an angry jab of his cock up her ass. He gained another inch-and-a-half.

"Robin, please, I beg you. By everything that's holy. Don't hurt me any more. Don't push your cock in there. I've never been fucked up my ass before. I'm too small. You'll never get it in there. I'll bleed. I'll tear. You can't. Oh my God! Please! mother! Help me. Ayyyieee!"

Each word egged Robin on to a new frenzy. He pushed and shoved, putting his whole weight behind it. It was in two inches now, three inches, four. It was true, her back furrow had never yet been plowed.

"My God, Robin! Stop! I'm going to shit! I can feel it! Please. Please! Ayyyyyieeee!"

Four inches. Four and a half. Five.

"Ayyyyieeee! Aaargghhkh! Owwweeeyyy!" Her screams no longer formed words.

Five and a half inches. Six!

The going seemed easier now. Had she started lubricating? Had she learned to relax her sphincter? No the sphincter was still tight, still gripping the shaft of his prick, holding it tight and massaging it with pressure, holding it so that it could neither slip out-nor slip in except with difficulty.

Then why was it easier now?

Robin looked down, felt around with his hands. It was slippery and slightly sticky. He brought his fingers up to look at them.

Blood. Thick blood. That was too bad. If she chose to bleed that was her problem. He hadn't asked her to hold her muscles in tight. All she had to do was to relax. If she held on and made him tear her, that was just too bad.

Just too bad!

He drove on harder, his senses roused at the sight and feel and smell of her blood.

Six inches, six and a half, seven!

He was almost all in now. Now it was easier. He swung back on his hocks, hinged at the knees, allowed his cock to slide out an inch or two, then shoved it back in.

She had a really good hold of him with her ass muscles now. They held his cock in a sturdy grip, pressing, squeezing, urging, gripping. His cock was moving easily, in and out with the movement of his hips and his knees. This was an absolutely fabulous bit of fucking. He couldn't remember ever having had his cock held so well and sturdily.

Elizabeth was sobbing and moaning but Robin wasn't concerned with that. Her cries were evidence of his power, proof of the size of his cock, its thickness, its length and its hardness. Each sob and each moan was a mark of tribute to his prowess.

His movements in and out of her ass became flowing and easy. He moved on his hips and on his knees in long steady thrusts. Out, so that only the swollen velvet tip remained buried inside her ass, then in again, in all the way, in so far that his balls banged against her cunt, so far that his pubic bone jammed up against her coccyx.

The movements were long and easy flowing and then became faster and shorter, faster and shorter as he hit what seemed the top of her rectum, as her cries and moans rose to a new crescendo, faster and shorter and more urgent. And then the sperm boiled in his balls, bubbled over, rose, spilled into his cock and spurted out in a long thick stream, deep into his victim s rectum.

He had come and his passions were released for the moment but the sensation was too exciting a one for him to let go immediately. Under the hard massage of her sphincter, his cock remained as hard and as long as it had been before he ejaculated, and as full of sensations. Nay! His sensations were even more acute now that the blood had distended the fibers of his cock and the sensitive nerve-endings had been stimulated to their climax and beyond. The lubrication afforded by his recent ejaculation was an added pleasure. His cock slithered in and out as he again lengthened his motions. The combination of the hard pressure and the slippery slide was unbelievable. He was in the throes of ecstasy. It was pleasure, pure sensual pleasure, that combined to the ultimate point the greatest of all possible thrills. His nerve-endings were reaching new and unimagined heights of pleasure that verged on the painful so intent was it.

He kept pushing and shoving, digging and withdrawing, sliding his stiff cock in and having it massaged by the firm sphincter. The pleasure was insufferable. He knew he couldn't come now and that was good in a way but it also hurt him. He could go on like this for ever but he had to stop before he burst with the pain of the pleasure. This must have been what Lizbeth felt when she was creaming and becoming excited under her bonds and under the pressured pleasure situation in which her body had been bound--yet unable to find release until Robin had given it to her with his fingers.

He had to stop now. He just couldn't go on. He wanted to go on, he just couldn't stop.

But he stopped and pulled it out.

His cock was still massive. He looked at it and the slimy coatings that clung to it, a smear of many colors: sperm from his cock, blood from where he had torn her, yellowish fluid that must be from her mucous secretions, and smeared into it, especially just behind the ridge of the still-purplish tip, the revolting stains of brown that showed that he must have gotten really deep into her, as deep as the lump of shit from her last meal.

Elizabeth had become more or less composed again and she had stopped moaning.

"You'd better wash quick," she said, "and me too. Otherwise if she comes back and see what we've been doing we'll both be in for a lot of trouble."

"How? Where?"

"There's a little basin in that corner behind the drape. It's only cold water but it'll do. And you'll find a jar of ointment above it, better bring that and smear me with it, and use some on yourself, too."

"What kind of ointment?"

"Something special that Arbella gets one of her admirers to make up for her. It's supposed to contain antibiotics and hormones and stuff. We use a lot of it. Spread it on your body after you've been beaten or bruised or scratched and the pain goes away almost immediately and you heal up in a couple of hours."

Robin washed himself thoroughly at the little sink, wincing as the ice-cold water hit his bruised flesh. He soaped his cock, his balls and his crotch especially well, swilled the soapy water around them, then dried himself thoroughly. He found the large brown jar and smeared his body generously with its contents. Lizbeth hadn't exaggerated. It was everything she said it was. The aches and pains and bruises that covered his body, and which had reappeared in their full intensity once the excitement of his latest fuck had worn off, disappeared like magic under the soothing cream.

He dipped a towel in the water, wet it thoroughly, and used it to wipe down the girl he had so brutally abused. She too was covered with the drippings from her bowels, her rectum, his cock and her torn tissues, and he washed her down well. He twisted one end of the towel into a thick wad and pushed it up her ass, despite her moans: it was necessary to clean her out thoroughly before her mistress came back and discovered her condition. When he had wiped her out completely, and washed down her cunt, too, for good measure, he dried her, then applied the ointment to the parts where his ramrod cock had attacked and breached her. She sighed with relief as the cream wiped away the stinging burning that her recent lover had left there as his memento.

"When will she be back?" Robin asked finally.

Tm not going to answer any questions so long as you leave me like this. You didn't find me this way and it hurts."

"Sorry, I forgot."

Robin lifted her back to her knees. She gave signs of tottering to one side, her muscles having suffered severe cramps, so he moved her close to the wall and helped her prop herself against it with one shoulder, then he squatted down opposite her and continued with his questioning.

"When will she be back?"

"Soon I guess. I think she's just gone to make preparations."

"Preparations?"

"Yes, she has to punish me. She'll want other people around to help her and to share in her fun. And she'll want to punish you too in some way and make use of you. Oh, I shouldn't have, I know I shouldn't have...." and she once more started crying.

"Oh stop crying, won't you! If we have to wait for your lady and mistress, at least we don't have to wallow in tears while we wait."

"But there's nothing else to do. I'm all tied up and all I can do is think of what she's going to do to me."

"Well we could tell each other stories while we wait, couldn't we."

"What about."

"Sex, what else?"

"And then I'll get all excited again and it'll all start over again and then I'll get into even more trouble."

"No, I won't fuck you again. Not now. Now I'm going to preserve my strength so that I can stand up to whatever it is her ladyship has planned. And I'm not in a mood for spinning stories about sex myself. So I'd like you to start."

"I can't," she sobbed. "I don't know where to being. I don't know what to say. I don't know what to tell you. I'm...."

"Start at the beginning."

"Beginning?"

"When you first got fucked."

"First got fucked. By Arbella?"

"By Arbella, by a boy, by a stallion...What do I care. Just start. I want to hear."

"I'm scared I'll get all aroused and then . .

"You'll get all aroused whether you do or you don't anyway." To add emphasis to his threat, Robin reached out with his open palm and slapped Lizbeth hard on her exposed thigh.

Lizbeth sobbed.

"There'll be more of this," he thundered. He tipped her over once more on her face, so that her buttocks were raised up in the air, and administered a resounding slap to the left cheek. It turned red immediately, the five fingers of his hand and the open palm leaving their crimson imprint in the tender flesh that had been under continuous tension for some hours and so aroused to special sensitivity.

He followed up the first blow with a second and with a third and a fourth. Each time his hand landed, the slap rang out resoundingly through the room and mingled with the girl's startled scream of pain. She writhed and twisted as he reddened her ass, bringing both cheeks to a bright crimson. He was feeling arousal again but now, somehow, arousal seemed to be not something special for odd, surprising moments of the day, but something he could and should experience as a continuing, ongoing joy.

He rained more blows on the upraised bare bottom until his own hand began stinging too much.

"Now will you start telling me about your first fuck?"

Lizbeth almost whispered it: "Yes, but please put me into a sitting position first."