Chapter 3
Rather than whipping the clothes off of him, she decided not to waste the time. Rather, despite his protests, she didn't hesitate to move towards him with impunity. She got up on the bed and holding her tongue, began to remove his clothes.
He froze and stopped shaking against the chrome posts, feeling the way he was quickly growing exhausted. His muscles were being pulled taut and painfully so, for his arms were raised up above his head. And, what was more, his legs were thrust so far apart it was almost as if he had been forced to do a split in midair.
"Don't, come on, let me down. I'll ... I'll lick your boots some more," he pleaded.
"Isn't that adorability personified. The little man wants to lick Lydia's boots," she said sarcastically. "Now if that isn't the cutest thing I've heard all day." And without saying anything else she rapidly un-snapped his jeans, unzipped the fly and pulled them down as far as she could.
When she realized that because his legs were spread-eagled she'd never be able to get his jeans off completely and likewise his polo shirt, Lydia didn't hesitate to climb down off the bed and hunt up a pair of shears. He continued to plead with her, but when he realized she wasn't paying him any attention and that, if anything, his plaintive moans only served to incite her all the more, he bit down on his lower lip and he too held his tongue, realizing that silence would serve him better than verbosity.
She came back and used the scissors with dexterity, though he winced as she cut through the faded denim of his jeans, fearing that her hand would slip and he could be circumcised beyond use or recognition.
But she was quite adept at frightening him without even touching his body and with a series of expertly applied snips, the jeans fell off of his body. He hadn't bothered with underpants and she was secretly delighted to find herself staring at the remains of his hard-on, for when she'd tied his legs up he'd begun to lose his stiff and steely erection.
Nevertheless, even half-erect, his cock was still more than just impressive, draped over his heavy hairy nuts and twitching gently from side to side. She eyed it critically, neither complimenting nor insulting his obvious well-hung state.
Next came the polo shirt and this was much easier to remove as she slit it up the front and back and peeled it off of him as one would remove the skin on a piece of fruit. When she was finished he was stark and utterly naked and
Seth glanced down at her, more alarmed than ever, just as frightened as he'd been when the holdup had failed and he'd been forced to run and escape the police.
For now, his vulnerability was etched upon his skin and his birthday suit was prickled with goose bumps. He didn't for one minute think that she was playing a joke on him, for her little game had turned as sour as the stick-up and in both cases, he had somehow come out on the losing end.
"Not a bad body, kiddo," she snickered, reaching out and flicking her hand across his meat.
He trembled but said nothing, knowing that any lack of respect on his part would be treated harshly, punishment obviously being Lydia Rinaldo's special forte. But even then he didn't expect her to go to such drastic -- in his eyes, not her's of course -- lengths as she did a minute later.
Returning to the dresser, that treasure-trove of instruments of pain and pleasure -- her pleasure, certainly not Seth Garrick's -- she found what she had had in mind ever since she'd gotten him to lick her boots. Now, she didn't hesitate to pull them out of the drawer and when he turned his head over his shoulder to see what she was up to, a look of acute anxiety came into his eyes.
"Ever see these little beauties before, dearie? A doctor friend of mine got ahold of them for me, in case you're interested. They're used when someone has to handle radioactive material behind a shield, sort of like robot arm-extensions, only I've modified them somewhat, as you can see," she explained, waving the steel apparatus before his wide and frightened eyes.
They were, indeed, like robot arms, except that at the end of each prosthetic arm he was able to see two sets of crab-like pincers, each of them gleaming and razor-sharp. "What... what are you going to do with them?" he stammered.
"Play with you, of course," she snickered and moved back onto the bed. But before she put them to use, and she used them before needless to say, she decided to make herself more comfortable and get him fully aroused, at the same time.
Accordingly, she slipped her thumbs underneath the waistband of her mini skirt and pulled it off of her. But instead of being stark-naked save for her knee-high boots, Seth found himself ogling two new things at the same time.
The skirt was tossed over the side of the bed and she leaned against the head of the bed and let him devour her all but naked body with his wide and staring and certainly appreciative eyes. For even in the midst of his mounting and undeniable fear, he could not stop looking at her, more turned on than ever.
She sported a waistlet of black patent leather, fitted with tight crisscrossing rawhide laces as were the boots, and paneled with whalebone struts so that her waist was tight and narrow, yet her hips flared out, dramatic and voluptuous, all at the same time.
But, even more than this weird and yet tantalizing leather corselet, Seth Garrick was finally and for the first time since he'd met Lydia Rinaldo, able to see her cunt in all its hot naked glory. It was as raven-hued as the hair which she tossed back over her shoulders, a thick wiry crop as dark and abundant as his own pubic bush.
But that was where any similarities ended. After that she was all woman and he ogled her box with wide and excited eyes, drooling with delight as he saw the way the outer folds of meat which bordered her gaping split trembled and fluttered like two thick ragged-edged pink butterfly wings.
The abundant growth of pubic fur was glistening with droplets of her cunt juice, for even then the walls of her muff were palpitating, sending down hot musky rivulets of sap which oozed out of her gaping and dilated split.
He stared like a man possessed, realizing that at this moment he'd do anything for her, just as long as he could fuck the shit out of her afterwards. But then, satisfied now that his cock had once again assumed its full rigid proportions, Lydia picked up the two prosthetic devices she had put down on top of the red velvet bedspread.
Now that his cock was fully hard, arching nearly straight up along his lean flat stomach, she was ready to continue the game she had planned all evening. She moved closer, holding onto the two robot arms tightly, her fingers adept at working the controls so that he began to tremble and shudder involuntarily as she made the sharp razor-honed pincers open and shut, menacing and alarming him as never before.
"Look at the little crab, dearie," she giggled hotly, aroused as he was, but not yet ready to ball in conventional ways, not now at least. She had to turn herself on even more, had to inflame her passions to the boiling point and the one way she knew that always succeeded lay right before her, the path of punishment, abuse and bondage.
She intended to discipline him as he had never been disciplined before. And if Seth had any lingering doubts that she was playing a game with him, they were abruptly forgotten the instant she pushed the prosthetic arms flush against his muscular chest and began to tighten the razor-sharp pincers around each of his taut and pale-brown nipples.
"Oh no, no don't, don't, I beg of you!" he groaned, his cry of woe ending in a horrifying shriek of hellish pain as she dug the metal claws into his sensitive mammaries, nipping and pinching them as if she was digging razor blades into his skin.
"Does it tickle, robber boy?" she smirked, loving the way fresh hot droplets of bright red blood now began to ooze down from his wounded mammary glands, dribbling down along his chest, over his flat stomach and bypassing his cock to trickle down the front of each hairy and thick-set thigh.
"No more, please, I can't, can't take it," he stammered, the pain about as blinding and severe as anything he had ever endured in his entire life. Yet, through it all, and she didn't stop so quickly, his cock continued to remain staunchly upright, turgid with lusty delight. It was all he could do to remain from fainting and he stared at her naked muff as if the sight of it was the only way for him to deal with the agonizing pain of her hellish torture devices.
She didn't care, one way or the other.
Finally, she opened the claws of each metal arm and then slid them teasingly down along his chest, moving closer and closer to his hairy crotch. He froze and held his body as stiffly as possible, though by this time his arms were numb, the muscles contracted so tightly and his fingers gripping the overhead post so firmly that his hands seemed glued to the bar.
"You're... you're not gonna..." he started to say as she continued to laugh, shuddering with glee and waving the pincers around his upright and throbbing cock.
She moved them so close that he felt any false motion and he'd be mortally wounded. But Lydia had no intention of damaging the goods, that one specific part of him at least which she knew how to use for her own advantage and her own insatiable sexual pleasures and desires. But she enjoyed tormenting him nearly as much as actually abusing his body and so she kept circling his pulsating cunt-rammer again and again, snapping the pincers until he was shaking like a leaf, his body glistening with a thin liquid sheen of cold sweat.
So this is what I've let myself in for, he'd thought at the time. It was one hell or another. Either the police or Lydia and he had a hard time deciding which was the better of the two. But at the same time, he certainly was in no position to stop her from tormenting him and so he bit down on his lower lip and tried to hold his cries of fear back, sensing that the more he moaned, the more pleased she would become.
The game began to bore her, for by now her cunt was on fire, twitching and shuddering and demanding to be satisfied. Thus it was that she tossed the pincers onto the floor and managed with some difficulty to unlock the iron rings from his wrists. He held on, afraid to let go lest he topple backwards and snap his spine in two.
But when she untied one of his legs, he jumped forward and she slid out of the way as he landed with a thud on top of the bed, secured now by only one ankle. She decided to leave the rope on for the time being, warning him not to untie it. Had Seth been a hardened criminal instead of an ordinary young man whose personal unhappiness and need for escape had driven him to such desperate lengths as robbing a bank, he probably would have murdered Lydia long before, when he'd first arrived on the scene.
But that, needless to say, was not his style.
He accepted her orders, wondering how long he would be able to endure her constant abuse, for it seemed things were growing more difficult to handle and more insidious with each passing second and each fresh torturing revelation.
Licking her boots had been child's play compared to the pincers and blood still flowed from the gaping wounds she had made all around the perimeter of his nipples. She twisted him over onto his back then and hurriedly got into position, wanting to feel his cock surging in and out of her box more than anything else, at least for the time being.
There was more abuse to come, of course, but now the needs of her body were more important. Lydia prayed that she would come before he had a chance to shoot off his load. For that, she knew, was yet another way of showing her disdain for his very manhood, his virility as it were.
Thus it was that she didn't hesitate to straddle him, sitting lightly on the tops of his thighs, her lush hairy love nest poised inches away from his throbbing and jutting boner. Reaching out with one hand, she grabbed hold of the hairy base of his cock. Her touch made him nearly delirious, for after the pain he'd endured, the slightest bit of pleasure seemed like ecstasy incarnate.
He tried to get the blood flowing into his arms again while, at the same time, he hunched his hips forward as she stared down at his crotch with narrowed slit-like eyes. Holding onto his cock securely, Lydia now rubbed the leaking plum-shaped head of his massive arm of man-flesh back and forth across her soaking wet cunt furrow.
He moaned with pleasure as his cock head tickled the fat blubbery outer lips of her hairy cooze. And then, taking him by surprise, she raised her plump rounded ass off of his thighs and plunged down, impaling herself on his meaty rod. It was with a scream of pleasure and no longer pain that accompanied the sudden downward motion.
He watched and felt her cunt consuming his dick, sucking it right up into the depths of her succulent and overheated trench. Even as he panted and kept thrusting his hips forward, she was concentrating on what she was doing, ignoring him and ramming her pubis down as more and more of his penis slid into the tight dripping wet depths of her horny snatch.
She could feel his meaty shaft scraping and rubbing briskly along her cunt walls, stretching them wider than usual and giving her pleasure such as she had been denied ever since her last young man -- whose clothes Seth had seen in the closet -- had left her.
"Don't make a fucking move, you little fairy," she hissed, plunging down like a bucking bronco, snorting so that her nostrils flared wide as if she was a dragon. But all the animal allusions which came to his mind were far less important than the frenzied savage jungle pleasure he was feeling at that moment.
No matter what might be, before or even after, he knew he would never forget this moment, this sense of total lust, complete and undeniable bliss. To feel his cock now buried all the way up to the hairy root, a dense thicket of jet-black wiry pubes surrounding their crotches, was what life was all about.
It was for this he had robbed, having been without sexual satisfaction for longer than he even could accept or deal with on a personal level. But now, it seemed to him as if he was making up for it in spades.
He held himself as steadily as he could while she began to swivel from side to side, corkscrewing her hips so that the friction of her vaginal walls against the rounded overheated sides of his slick throbbing cock were too good to be true. She pushed up and down, her ass cheeks bouncing along his thighs, moaning and crying out with maddened sexual delight.
But as if this was still not enough for her, and it most certainly was not, she didn't hesitate to stretch one of her booted feet out, pushing the slim sharp heel right towards his mouth. "Open up and suck it like you'd like to suck a big fat black cock, boy," she snickered nastily, pushing the heel of her boot flush against his lips.
By this time, he was so turned on, so consumed by pleasure, that he didn't hesitate to continue obeying her, no matter how depraved and debasing her orders happened to be. He didn't want Lydia to stop what she was doing and so he opened his mouth and accepted the heel as she rammed it right between his parched and thirsty lips.
He sucked it right down his throat and she didn't hesitate to ram it all the way in so that the sole of her boot was flat against his lips and chin. His tongue moved almost on its own accord and all this time she was bouncing up and down, riding his cock as if it was a pogo stick.
"Yeah, that's it, little man," Lydia groaned, savoring the way Seth Garrick's marvellously thick and meaty rod was darting and plunging in and out, scraping along her fibrillating vaginal walls and giving her the kind of wanton sa-do-sexual ecstasy her body seemed to crave like an addictive drug.
And now that she had succeeded in getting from him what she wanted, the first signs of his burgeoning respect and willingness to be slavishly devoted and obedient to her every word, her every whim, she didn't think twice about lifting her other booted foot.
The patent leather gleamed in the soft light of her bedroom, polished and shining from the tonguing job he had done on it downstairs in the living room. But even Seth, filled with raw lusty excitement, didn't expect the degree of torturing excess she now began to put him through.
For even as she jerked up and down, shoving her hips forward, eating his cock alive and then rising up to expose its slick cunt-juice smeared surface before plunging down again, even as he sucked on the slim stiletto heel of her boot, she now rammed the other heel right against one of his eyes.
Fortunately, he managed to shut the lid an instant before the rubber tip of the heel made contact. She pushed forward with just about all of her might and he screamed with wild blinding pain. His eyeball seemed on the very verge of being crushed like an eggshell and he tried to twist his head out of the path of the wicked and spikelike heel.
"God no, stop it, you're blinding me!" he screamed out, raising one hand and violently shoving her boot aside.
She was not one to take such impertinence sitting down.
But the best way to show her true colors and her sense of anger and livid rage, was to come before he did, to deny him the warm sucking grip of her hot and juicy muff. Accordingly, she held her tongue, spite being one of the tools of her trade.
I should have tied his fucking hands behind his back, that's what. Then he never would have been able to stop me, she thought to herself. But it was too late to do that now and so she quickened her motions, lunging forward, rising and falling and bouncing down over his massive and burning penis.
He was almost there, almost about to spew out the long pent-up load of semen that was now churning like butter in his heaving balls. But before Seth even had a chance to enjoy the mindless ecstasy of his release, Lydia suddenly came like gang-busters, screaming out with maniacal excitement as her orgasm descended upon her like a tidal wave.
The flood of crashing eddying ripples of delight seared her very being and coursed through her loins. A hot gush of musky sap drenched his buried pole and she shuddered as if she was having an attack, convulsing against him.
His cock was completely hidden from sight and he could feel her wiry pubic hairs scratching the insides of his thighs as well as his groin. She used her boot to push him down on the bed, not allowing him the pleasure of moving, of responding just as heatedly and joining her in her release.
And as he lay there, trying to push upwards, the muscles braided and contracting around his crotch, she suddenly and just as quickly as she had come, slid off of him, lifting her box up so that his cock was left homeless, deprived of the warm searing and clinging embrace of her luscious and juicy quim.
"Too bad you didn't come when I did, sucker," she snickered as he gave her a pained look.
She pulled the heel of her boot out of his mouth, reached down with one hand and took hold of his heavy furry scrotal sac. Before Seth could do anything to stop her, she'd managed to grip his balls right around the top of his scrotum. She squeezed them as if she was putting his nuts in a vise and he howled with horrifying pain.
But her only response was to laugh uproariously at his considerable discomfort, that and to push one of his balls up into its inguinal canal. She held it there, shoving his testicle up into the canal from which it had first descended.
The pain made his eyes bug out and he twisted violently, groaning and doubling up, unable to catch his breath nor endure the pain which was as ferocious as if she had kicked him in the balls. Finally, still laughing and relishing his considerable discomfort, she released the testicle and he lay back, his cock starting to go limp as a result of the physical agony he had been forced to endure.
"Well, I've had enough of you for one night, boy," she told him then, untying his leg from the bedpost and moving over to push him over the side of the bed.
He caught himself just in time and shakily got to his feet, his cock now a long limp juice-smeared sausage which hung down forlornly, draped like an ornament over his pain-racked testicles. "Well?" she said with annoyance. "Get your ass in gear, boy. I want my privacy. After all, you're just a hired stud and I've had my fill of you for one evening."
Something told him not to say a word, to collect his clothes -- useless now that she had used the scissors on them to first remove them from his body -- and depart without a comment. He closed the door behind him and still filled with both the memory as well as the reality of the pain she had forced him to endure, crept silently to his room.
His cell, as he saw it then.
Outside, the police were no doubt still looking for him, hunting him down, prowling through the darkness. But here, in the seclusion and privacy of Lydia Rinaldo's house, he knew he might just as easily have been in another prison. A prison without bars, but a prison nevertheless.
And perhaps, he thought to himself that night, I'm worse off than if they'd have caught me and locked me up in jail.
It was to be a recurring theme in his subconscious, for from that night on he began to have nightmares such as he had never suffered from before.