Chapter 6
Olga's hairless old cunt looked like a rotting prune. A moldy boot fished out of the sewer would have smelled better. Sharon bit her lip and bowed her head, dreading what she had to do.
Dexter Chatsworth watched the two of them go at it with a twisted grin of sadistic delight. The power that came with great wealth had never been enough for him. He liked compelling a beautiful woman to do things she detested.
It helped make up for the bitchy mother that ruled and almost ruined his young life. And for the faithless slut wife he'd been unable to control. Best of all, unquestioned authority helped keep his massive cock rampant. Though in his mid-fifties, he could still outlast most men half his age.
Olga jerked her scrawny legs up and hooked them behind Sharon's neck, clamping down with all her aged strength to bury the lush beauty's face in her cunt.
Sharon gagged and choked, but she made her tongue work. The taste was more rank and foul than Mike's ass-hole, her position now more degrading. She hated this withered old hag but knew that she had to please her. Only that would delay more painful torment.
She licked and sucked in a desperate stupor, trying not to think what this pair might have in mind next. Her tender skin blazed with stinging welts. Her ass and pussy still writhed from the strain of flooding abuse.
It took half an hour and every clever tongue and lip stroke she'd learned from Veronica to coax the gnarled old hag to a climax. By then her mind was filled with self-loathing.
When Olga's gaunt body finally shivered in long-awaited delight, Sharon purged her mind with a fearsome scream. Each one of her lusty adventures had come to disaster. She felt cursed for the sin of incest and wondered why God wouldn't let her die.
Chatsworth's cock had grown monstrously hard from his watching Sharon's ripe ass while she was bent over the cunt of his faithful servant.
"Chain her legs," he told Olga when she'd recovered enough to climb off the bed.
"No, please," she whispered to the flinty-eyed old maid. "Not after what I just did for you."
"Sorry," Olga replied without pity. "But he's the master. I'm nothing without him. I'd be out on the street worse off than you. At least you have a tempting body some men would pay for. I have only my master to please. That's something haughty young bitches like you must find it hard to learn."
Olga took a larger set of shackles from a rack on the dungeon wall. These were shaped to fit a woman's trim ankles and joined by a stout length of chain.
Sharon shied away from her, pleading with sorrowful eyes.
"A woman can't be content as a humble servant," she said, appealing to whatever was left of the old maid's self-respect.
"Humble?" Olga almost choked on the word. "What makes you think I'm humble? The master has given me a trust fund worth a small fortune. I have more money than you've ever dreamed of-and I will have it for as long as I obey his every command. I vacation three months a year in the world's most exclusive and expensive resorts. I wear the jewels and furs you saw in that room upstairs. Greedy young men flock after me. I've felt more hot prick in the last year than you will in the rest of your life!"
Sharon slumped to the floor moaning, "Oooh, my God! You lied to me about not having an orgasm in twenty years."
"Just to inspire your best effort. And it worked, I might add. Only a young Frenchman I met in Monte Carlo has done better. He thought he was licking and sucking his way to a fortune. He doesn't know yet that I'm a humble servant to Mr. Chatsworth."
Chatsworth said, "You see, Sharon, Olga has learned obedience and has earned its rewards. That is something I've yet to teach you. Suspend her from the ceiling chain with her luscious ass aimed straight at the floor."
Olga hastened to obey, grinning lewdly as she worked. She snagged Sharon's arm and leg chains with the ceiling hook and then worked the controls to raise her a foot off the floor.
"A little higher, Olga." He was stretching out on the floor with his twanging cock poised like a missile ready to be launched. "The old girl sometimes forgets how long a shaft I've got," he said to Sharon who dangled helplessly above him in a bent-double position, her gorgeous ass directly over the steely length of his foot-long prick.
"Now grease my cock, would you please, Olga?"
"My pleasure, master." She rushed and crouched beside him with a tube of lubricant clutched in her gnarled hands. With loving devotion, she slathered his long cockshaft. His prick gleamed in the flickering torchlight. Sharon could see his cock throbbing when she dared to look down.
Olga breathed a sound that was almost sym-phathetic, then she slicked Sharon's quivering shithole with some of the lubricating gel.
"That's all I can do to thank you for a great climax," she said.
Sharon's lips were too tightly clenched for her to reply.
"You'll let that ring of muscle loosen up if you know what's good for you," the old woman said with a smirk. "It's so tight now that I can hardly wiggle my finger in."
"Her ass must learn its own lessons, Olga. Let her down now ... very slowly. I want her to accept the staff of my authority, inch by excruciating inch."
Sharon's arms and legs ached from the strain of being suspended in chains. Her hands and feet, both raised above her head, felt numb. Blood from those extremities settled in her groin, warming her chilled pussy and ass.
The hard shackles chafed her wrists and ankles, cold metal pressing cruelly hard. She could feel the pressure clear to the bone. But worst was the stabbing heat of her leather-clad tormentor's big cock.
It entered her gel-slicked shithole like a hot steel rod, parting the tightly clenched lips of her ass-a round little mouth of dark flesh that would have screamed if it had had a voice.
The head of his cock felt like a door knob heated with a torch. She winced and writhed, but was helpless in her chains, descending slowly despite her desperate upward jerks.
Twisting and thrashing increased the pain and the cutting action of the broad metal bands locked around her wrists and ankles. Her soft white skin was cut and blood ran down her arms and legs-the blood-crossed welts left by the sting of the lash. Pained cries of torment babbled from her mouth. Half the length of his prick was in her ass now, a spearing hot six inches of throbbing male flesh, and still the creaking chain hoist was letting her down.
Trickles of blood reached her auburn-haired crotch. Seeping warmth invaded her pussy slit. Sharon's clit tingled in the sultry dampness of blood. Some blood wet the soft curls that fringed her cunt lips. More slipped down to redden the crack of her ass.
"She looks just like a freshly stuck virgin to me," Chatsworth said with a smirk. He was thrilled by the seething tension of her tight ass.
The swelling strain of his hot prick made her eyes water. Running tears diluted the little streams of blood, and still the cackling old maid kept letting her down on his ass-reaming cock.
His prick felt worse than the jetting brass nozzle that had filled her moments ago. This throbbed with lewd vigor, and she knew that her anguished contractions gave him pleasure. It took an unbearably long time to settle her ass on his cock completely.
Her soft, creamy ass-cheeks, still tender from a recent whipping, brushed his silver tangle of cock hair. She felt some relief then. Part of her weight rested on his loins, not every ounce was straining her manacled arms and legs.
But she felt the full hot length and surging thickness of his monster cock then. His prick sank deeper than anything had before, radiating heat to singe nerves never touched except by the passage of shit.
Her bowels wrenched and heaved with the unfamiliar intrusion. If Chatsworth's cock hadn't been plugging her like a cork, she would have shit whatever was left after the cold enema.
Sharon screamed and moaned alternately, wondering when or if the vicious ass torture would end. That only made the strained channel of her ass undulate with anguished contractions that her brutal master greatly enjoyed.
"The dear wife that you so much resemble would never let me fuck her ass," he said. "Did you let your husband have yours?"
"N-n-no!" she cried. "My son was the first!"
"Just as I thought. You are the same kind of slut!"
"But you put yourself in a position to invite bondage, did you not?"
"I guess so. I went to live with him. I adored his big cock until he drove it up my ass!"
"Once started on the path of sinful pleasure, it's hard for a young man to stop," Chatsworth said without sympathy. "Would you expect a starving man to take one bite of delicious meat and not want the rest?"
"Men act more like starving dogs! Their cocks are all that matter to them."
"Cock is all that matters to some women as well. Fuck-hungry sluts betray trust and shirk responsibility to fuck like wantons!"
Chatsworth had become bored with her anguished contractions. "She's lifeless this way, Olga. Just dangling there like a piece of dead meat. Give her a little spin."
"My pleasure, master." The clucking old hen grabbed Sharon's pained shoulders and started her spinning. The hoist from which she was suspended was on a swivel. It whirled smoothly above her head.
The man's huge cock turned inside her like a screw with stripped threads. Each slow revolution was a fiery, twisting sensation of torture.
"Faster, Olga. Spin her like a top!"
An obedient hand clawed Sharon's left shoulder and pulled to increase the speed of her painful whirling. Bearings in the swivel mechanism just purred, but the woman's scream was a tormented wail. That sound seemed to come in a spiral, bouncing first off one wall and then another as she whirled madly on the cock rooted deep in her dangling ass.
Dizziness turned Sharon's vision to a blur.
The four walls became one that seemed to circle around her, moving faster and faster. Four flickering torches appeared a strip of flame-a ring of hot light.
Chatsworth's thick hot prick turned in her revolving ass like an auger. Sharon had never been screwed this way before--literally screwed. The friction of forced rotation made her ass burn, but her mind was too tangled to put together a scream.
Sharon hoped she would faint from the blood-rushing madness of her lewd spin. She saw a blurred vision from childhood, playing with a toy gyroscope. Spun with a string, it would balance on the head of a nail.
Now she was the plaything, a whirling gyroscope of flesh and blood. And she wasn't balanced on a nail, she'd been skewered on a thick spike of throbbing fuck muscle and made to twirl in an obscene ass-down pirouette.
Another childhood vision flashed through the sickening vertigo. Sharon saw the merry-go-round her father used to take her to ride. Her hand reached out, trying to catch the brass ring.
Now her hands could not reach out. The rings were steel, clamped around her wrists and ankles. Then she saw the bobbing heads of the merry-go-round steeds. Some were horses in fanciful colors, but her favorite mount was the unicorn.
He had a long spiral horn coming out of his forehead. Sharon used to hold that with one hand while reaching out for the ring. Now she couldn't hold it. The bounding horn had been rammed up her ass and the happy calliope music she remembered still played in her mind.
Chatsworth had started pumping his hips, arching up and down to fuck his cock deeper in her luscious ass. Combed with her forced whirling motion, the sensation was sheer delight. He felt two kinds of slithering friction and delighted in both.
Sharon's head bobbed and swayed as she whirled around. She was lifted by each thrust, then quickly sank back-bounding rhythmically up and down just as she had on a merry-go-round steed. In delirium she lost all sense of pain.
Her ass relaxed its grudging tension and smoothly milked his cock. The thrill increased. Sharon had most liked riding the merry-go-round because the saddle horn had tingled her clit before she had known what her clit was.
Now her clit was jounced and jarred by the leather-clad sadist's arching prick thrusts. The smell of leather reminded her of that saddle on the bounding unicorn and the very first orgasm of her young life.
Sharon hadn't known what a clit was then, and she'd been afraid to ask. Her pussy was a forbidden place, not to be touched. An obedient child, she never fondled herself-but she begged to ride the merry-go-round and let the pink unicorn do it for her.
She knew the sensation of an approaching climax well now, and it was getting stronger. Sharon could feel the powerful rippling contractions in both her pussy and ass. She hated to give such pleasure to her tormentor, but the writhing spasms couldn't be stopped.
Her ass and her envious pussy both seethed. Chatsworth grunted joyously. His cock was in a whirling vise of sheer hot delight. He fucked harder up and down, spiking her ass until Sharon gave a shudder and screamed a long, shrill wail.
Convulsions of lewd delight made her whole body tremble. Her chains clanked, but she forgot the pain of being bent double, soft tits jammed between her knees. She even forgot where she was. In the throes of orgasm, it didn't matter.
Olga watched, her drawn lips drooling with envy. Her master's bounding cock came again and again, jetting cum into the woman's ass-so much that it filled her sleek ass-hole and began to drip down.
Without the old hag's constant pushing, the speed of her whirling motion gradually slowed. So did the jetting spurts of Dexter Chatsworth's cock. They both sighed in weary delight when Sharon's spinning body at last came to a stop.
She managed a fretful smile, glancing down at his leather-masked face. "I made it good for you, didn't I?"
The man didn't answer at first. He went on with deep breathing, recharging his oxygen-starved body. At the peak of pleasure, he hadn't been able to breathe.
"You'll like my pussy even better," she said hopefully. "There's no need to restrain me. I want to please you now, and I'm not thinking of your money-just your beautiful big cock. It would thrill me to fuck it."
Chatsworth took a last deep breath and exhaled a snort of doubting laughter. "You're only saying that to save your ass. I don't think you're a truly obedient wench yet."
"I am! I know my place. Let me be your slave! Let me show what a good little girl I can be!"
"My little puppet," he said fondly.
"Yes, just free me from these awful chains."
Chatsworth slid his cock out of her cum-dripping ass and stood up.
"Let her down, Olga. It's time for us to have a puppet show." Then to Sharon he said, with a smile, "The correct word is actually marionette. Puppets are those cheap little things kids put their hands in to work. A marionette is more finely crafted, a work of art made to move by the clever pulling of strings. They were my favorite toys as a child. I did wonderful Punch and Judy shows for my little friends. They all cheered because my figure of Punch had a wooden prick. I could make him tear off Judy's fine clothes and fuck her right there on the stage."
Sharon listened to his demented recollections while Olga freed her from the chains. She leaned on the old woman's shoulder, too dizzy and weak to stand on her own.
"My mother put a stop to that. She was very strict. She sent all my friends home and burned my favorite toys."
"I'm sorry," Sharon said, not that she gave a damn what had happened to him years ago, but because she feared more pent-up rage was surfacing.
"It's all right. My father was more understanding. He found me Olga to play with. We had a lot of punch and Judy shows of our own. You learned to like being bound with cord and made to dance when I pulled the strings."
"Ooooh, yes, master. I loved it! Especially when you played Punch with your big cock." Olga was grinning and leading Sharon to a small raised platform at the far end of the room.
What looked like spidery cobwebs dangled over the stage. Sharon thought nothing of them.
Chains and thick cords were all she feared. Coming closer, she recognized the thin strands as monofilament-like the fishing line her husband Cal used. It could be almost invisibly thin but still tremendously strong. A shiver of apprehension coursed through her veins.
When she was led up onto the stage by Olga's firm hands, she saw that each of the dozen or so dangling threads had a little noose at the end.
Chatsworth said, "Prepare Judy for the show."
The old woman cackled, dropping to her knees with one slender strand in her claw-like hand. She parted Sharon's soft cunt lips and snarled her clit with the tightening noose. It was in place and pulled tight before the dazed woman realized fully what had been done.
"Each of those strings is pulled mechanically when the right note is struck on this organ keyboard," Chatsworth said, seating himself and preparing to play. He struck a deep note and the string jerked, cinching painfully hard around Sharon's clit and pulling until she had to rise on her toes to ease the strain.
Olga worked swiftly while the woman remained in precarious balance. A slender thread cinched around each of the diamond ear rings Sharon had been so thrilled to wear. Her ears were pierced, so there was no way they would come off without tearing the flesh of her ear lobe.
Chatsworth struck the deep note again to keep her teetering on her toes, then two higher tinkling sounds that made her head wag back and forth, yanked up by one ear and then the other.
Olga put two more strings in place. Those biting nooses cinched tight around Sharon's generous nipples. The taut flesh bulged and smarted with pain.
"My Judy is such a clever girl, she can wiggle her ears and her tits at the same time." He laughed and struck a resounding chord on the organ.
Sharon's clit, her nipples and ears were all yanked in a pattern that made her do a crazed little dance on tip-toes with her tits bobbing. Pain knifed through some tender part each time Chatsworth struck a note.
Olga busied herself attaching the rest of the strings. She snared the middle finger of each hand and the little toe of each foot. She stuck another pair on the cheeks of her ass with pieces of wide transparent tape.
Chatsworth watched it all with a lewd grin, idly fingering the keys. He struck notes at random, making Sharon twitch and jerk like someone having a spastic fit. "Bring her the fur stole she was so fond of, Olga. Then take over playing the organ. I must prepare Punch for his role no in our little drama of discipline."
Sharon stood on stage shivering in a web of restraint. Though she could hardly see her bonds this time, she was afraid to move. If she lost her balance, her delicate clit, her tender nipples and the lobes of her ears might all be ripped off.
She sobbed pathetically and wondered what her husband Cal would think if he could see her now. He had often accused her of manipulating him, nagging or using her sexual favors to get what she wanted.
Sharon hardly had time to contemplate her desperate situation when Punch came dancing onto the stage from a darkened side area. She recognized Chatsworth at once even though he wore a clown outfit and a comical mask. His huge throbbing cock twitched in plain sight, and that was all she needed to see.
He wore no strings at all, but affected the jerking movements of a marionette. His cock twitched lewdly.
Olga's bony fingers danced on the keyboard and played a light refrain. It made Sharon's tits and ass quiver invitingly even though she felt only fear. Chatsworth, as Punch, carried a long-handled wooden paddle.
He laughed maniacally. "I've come to stir your soup. You're a bitch too busy and proud to cook my dinner!"
He swung the paddle and smacked her ass so hard that Sharon was almost knocked off her feet.
"You crazy bastard!" she screamed. "Your mother burned your dirty toys, and you'll burn in hell for what you're doing to me!"
"Nag. Nag. Nag!" He swung the paddle and spanked her ass soundly again.
This time Olga struck the deep note that tweaked Sharon's clit at exactly the same moment. She felt a shock of hot pain and a tingle of lewd stimulation simultaneously.
Chatsworth laughed. "The bitch must like having her ass paddled. Look how she prances, practically begging for another blow."
Olga was playing what sounded like a cheap stripper's bawdy theme. Sharon hated playing the fool they'd made of her, but she had no choice. The strings jerked and she had to dance.
The long, silvery fox stole flounced with each strutting step she took. Her strangled clit and nipples felt one fiery tug after another. That increased the fevered swaying of her lush body.
Chatsworth grinned behind his clown's mask but pretended to be unimpressed. He sneered, "Do you call that dancing? If we had an audience, they'd all want their money back! I'll have to help you get your act together."
He gave her another ringing swat across the ass. Instead of narrow welts, the paddle left a board red blotch. The pain was more dispersed, but it came with staggering force. Sharon was thrust forward by each blow, only to be yanked back by the tug of her tit and clit cords.
She snarled in a bitter rage, not thinking that what she said was only-likely to make things worse. "I wish you still had that puppet with a wooden prick. I'd rather fuck him! You're not my master! You're nothing but a crazy clown!"
Chatsworth brought the paddle back again. "That's what you think of all men, isn't it? You think of them as clowns put here only to amuse you. When you tire of one, you run to another."
"N-n-no!" Her mournful wail came top late. The broad paddle was already moving in a swift arc. Sharon felt the chilling rush of air, then the blistering hard smack of seasoned oak.
Sharon was driven forward by the smarting blow and almost knocked off balance. The cheeks of her lush ass felt like they were on fire. Olga struck another chord on the organ with an eerie cackle of crazed laughter.
Responding strings tugged one nipple, one ear and on cheek of her ass, turning Sharon to face her tormentor. Then Olga struck the resounding deep note that tugged her clit. The woman screamed and stumbled forward into his arms.
Chatsworth dropped the paddle to embrace her, stabbing his stiff hot prick between her shapely thighs. His cock missed the soft puffed mouth of her cunt by only an inch, gliding below her sleek pussy hole. His long cock sheened with a film of lubricating gel and traces of blood that had dripped down his captive's ripe body.
"The haughty bitch has learned her lesson," he said in a grating voice. "She rushes into my arms and sobs for forgiveness."
He stroked his fingers through the elegant fur draped across her back, locking her in a crushing embrace.
"I hate you!" she snarled. "Don't touch me!"
Olga played a two-note melody that made Sharon's bound nipples bob up and down, pressed hard against the sleek satin of Chatsworth's merry clown costume. The nooses tugged like they might cut off her nipples.
Her luscious tits felt both sharp pain and a tantalizing sensation of pleasure. She winced and gushed tears from her narrowed eyes, but a sigh of lewd pleasure slipped from her lips.
Olga repeated the droning deep note that tugged on Sharon's clit. More sharp, violent sensations of mixed pain and pleasure jangled Sharon's nerves.
Chatsworth arched back and let his cock spring up from the soft split between her thighs. The glossy knobbed head of his prick was aimed at her cunt like a fleshy rifle barrel. He fucked forward with a vicious grunt.
The maid struck two notes that yanked on the cheeks of Sharon's ass, driving her forward to meet the on-rushing thrust. His cock sank like a hot knife plunged into soft butter.
Painful clit stimulation by the tugging string had primed her sleek hole with a flood of fuck honey. The bulbous head of his cock splashed in, followed by inch after inch of thick hot prickshaft.
Sharon shuddered and moaned, so weak with pain and delight that she could hardly stand. Her knees felt like rubber bands. She swayed and would have fallen if it hadn't been for the crushing grip of his circling arms.
His powerful thrust launched them both into motion. Sharon stumbled back with a tortured cry. Her feet became tangled in the trailing ends of her gorgeous silver-blue fur wrap. She tripped and fell with an echoing cry of torment, certain that her most tender parts would be mutilated.
But Olga struck a descending chord at just the right moment. Sharon felt stinging sharp tugs of pain that somehow brought her giddy pleasure. The slender threads slackened just enough so that her flesh was not torn.
Twined in lewd embrace, they topped and fell together. Sharon's lush body thumped on the unyielding floor. He came down on top of her. His weight hammered his cock in like a pile driver. Her breath gushed and she felt throbbing cock at depths never touched before.
The force of his falling weight made her breath gush, and tears flew from her watery eyes like spray from a sprinkler. She had only the scant softness of the fur wrap between her and the floor. His unrelenting cock hammered down from above, driven by all his strength and crushing body weight.
Olga kept striking the notes that sharply tingled her nipples and clit, forcing Sharon to writhe and moan in a lewd parody of sexual delight.
Her cunt felt shocking stabs of pleasure, but her mind sank in a murky pool of misery. All her fondest dreams had been shattered. She was swathed in fur and wore diamonds worth a fortune, but they were of no comfort in the face of degrading abuse. She had the giant cock that she had desired with such reckless passion, but it was being used to punish her ripe body for a long list of sins.
Sharon took the brutal cock with gushing moans, writhing in anguish, wondering when or if this new kind of torment would end.