Bend Over Jessica

I waited, kneeling, blindfolded, handcuffed firmly to the wooden banister rail.

Outside, it was a lovely October day, blue skies, birds singing.

Inside, there was silence as I waited. Waited to see what would happen.

I could hear my heart beating in my chest. Tentatively, I tested the handcuffs, but there was no escape from them, the cold metal bit cruelly into my wrists. How had this happened? Now I knew why, many years ago, my mother had told me never to accept lifts from strangers, even if my own car had broken down….

Suddenly, I heard footsteps ascending the stairs. They walked down the landing and came to halt by me. Hands, strong male hands, unlocked the cuffs and with a strong grip on my arm, I was forced into one of the rooms. I didn’t know whether to struggle yet. I didn’t want to be hurt. Humans are delicate things, they leak when you hit them, and I was scared, so scared.

In the rooms, I gasped as a chain was thrown around my neck, light but strong, and with a click, it was locked tightly about my throat.

The voice was soft, but firm.

“Take your clothes off.”

I shook my head, mute.

“Take them off. There are two ways this can be done. You can take your clothes off yourself and your pain will not be too great. Or I can do it for you and it will hurt you considerably more.”

There was a pause as I weighed my options. I wasn’t brave enough for the second one. Then slowly, I began to strip off my clothes, taking off my black knee-high boots and tights, sliding down my red tartan mini-kilt, slipping off my black cardigan and top. The top presented a problem, it got caught in the chain, but unseen hands whisked it away. I stood, shivering in the cool room in my bra and knickers.

“And the rest”.

“You said take off my clothes….” I head the note of pleading in my voice.

“All of your clothes. I want you naked.”

“Who are you?”

Silence.

Slowly, I slid off my bra and knickers and stood, naked, cold. I clasped my hands fruitlessly over my breasts. Then I heard water running in another room. Carefully, slowly, I tested the chain about my neck. Tight. And a lot of it.

Then hands were leading me into another room. My bare feet brushed against the cool enamel of a bathtub.

“Get in slowly. Wash yourself.”

“I had a shower this morning!” The complaint burst from me before I could stop it, as petulant as a child.

A soft laugh. “Wash again. I want you really clean”

I stepped into the bath, struggling slightly with my still-blindfolded eyes and knelt in the water. Hands thrust me into a sitting position and a flannel – baby soft – was pushed into my hands and a bottle of liquid soap into the other. I squirted some onto myself. It smelt of baby powder and lavender. Unaware of whether he was watching me of not, I quickly soaped myself, the blindfold and chain making me unwieldy. The hands pulled me to my feet and soaped my breasts and private parts. I tried to pull away, but short of shrinking into the wall there was nowhere to go. Then I was helped out of the bath and patted dry with a towel. Hands guided me away from the bath and then I felt myself laid face down on the bed. The chain clinked and pulled against my throat, reminding me of my capture.

“You’re here to learn obedience. For the next 24 hours, you will do as I say, as soon as I say it, without questioning me. After that, we shall see. But you should know, that if you want to walk out of this room, you must obey me. Understand?”

I nodded, mute. The fear was devastating – my self-preservation more important than my dignity or privacy.

“Now, I’m going to start by showing you what happens if you don’t obey me.”

The towel was yanked away and then without warning, a leather whip lashed across my naked buttocks and back. I wriggled, the chain restricting my movements as the cruel leather bit and burned. The man whipped me firmly and efficiently, leaving no area of my back, buttocks and thighs untouched. I bucked and wriggled, the clinking chain restricting me, making me unable to move as freely as I wanted and for some reason, this made the pain worse. But I didn’t cry, not even when the whip stopped falling and I lay limp on the bed.

Silence. Then the electronic whir of a camera, taking photographs of my punished body. Humiliation coursed through me.

His hands turned me onto my back and examined my breasts, tweaking my nipples, gently at first and then harder. He slapped them a little, raising a red blush. Then his fingers trailed down over my thighs and towards my private parts. I winced, tensing. His hand slapped my thigh in an admonitory manner.

“Don’t fight me.”

I didn’t. His hands parted my legs and I felt him pulling my labia lips apart, running his finger over my clitoris, sliding a finger inside me, testing, feeling.

I was wet. Shamefully, horribly wet, despite being scared and unhappy and not wanting to be here with the strange man. The humiliation was devastating and inside me, something small and tiny died. I felt my eyes get wet under the blindfold.

“That’s very promising. Very good! I was right after all then.” he said. He sounded pleased. What did he mean he was right after all?

He flipped me onto my tummy and examined my anus. I tried to imagine that I was at the doctor’s, that this was a clinical examination. It didn’t help. He spanked me again, casually, not devastatingly hard, but hard enough to hurt, especially as I was being good. Why was I being punished when I was being good? Then he used a leather strap firmly across my already sore bottom, whipping the fire back into my backside.

“I’m being good!” I wailed. “You’re hurting me!”

“So?” was the devastating reply.

He left the room, went away and then came back.

“Remember, you have to be obedient. Whatever happens to you.” he reminded me as he slid a towel under my bottom. Then I felt his hands between my legs and suddenly pain, icy cold and yet burning hot exploded through my body. The shock was so great that I burst into tears. I focused and the pain narrowed from all over to the delicate area between my legs and I realised that the man had pushed an ice cube up inside me, the pain managing to both freeze me and burn me from the inside in one insidious blend of agony. I desperately tried to pull away, to pluck the little pain-toy away from  me, but he held my hands down. So I cried, helplessly and fruitlessly, sobbing for breath as the ice cube melted away in the heat of my body, jerking my hips, unable to escape the pain. Even when the ice was gone, the pain remained as I wriggled on the now wet towel.

My sobs slowed. Behind the blindfold, my face was wet and my hair around my ears was soaked where my tears had trickled out. Again, I heard the camera click.

There was a pause. I lay silently, the cool room in the air and the cold water under my buttocks making me shiver.

Then he was removing the towel and helping me to sit up.

“You’ve been good. That was the stick. Now you can have some carrot.” He pushed a glass into my hands, a wine glass. I sniffed it and the aroma of a rich white wine came to my nose, my senses heightened by my lack of vision. I wanted to gulp it, to soothe my pain with a glass of wine…….I thrust the glass back at him.

“I don’t want it.” I snapped.

“Suit yourself” was the reply. I could visualise him shrugging. Almost as soon as the glass was removed, I was thirsty, so thirsty, but I didn’t ask for a drink. I had to have some control….

Things blurred a little then. There was more spanking, more whipping, more strapping. I kicked my legs, displeasing him. I was warned to keep still and take the pain. I kicked again and he proved his displeasure by lashing a cane across my bottom, 12 hard strokes that bit into my sore flesh, causing me to shriek with pain and cry again a little. All the time, he kept returning to examine my pussy, always shamefully wet. I kept hearing the camera click.

He turned me onto my front and firmly thrust a plug into my bottom hole. I wriggled and moaned.

“Stop whinging or I’ll cane you again” was his only comment.

Then, as he turned me onto my back – how I hated this helplessness, this inability to do things for myself – and with the plug still in place, he spread my legs wide and then I felt his cock, his warm human cock, so different from the cold plug in my bottom, slide into my pussy. I gasped at the tight sensation of the double penetration and gritted my teeth, as, eased by my own physical excitement, he fucked me ruthlessly before spending himself as I sobbed underneath him.

He tidied me, washed me where I lay and then pulled me to my feet. He placed some clothes in my hands and told me to get dressed. I did, putting on knickers, bra and a pair of long socks and then stepped into a dress. The dress was short and I couldn’t zip it up myself, so he helped me. The sensation of being clothed again was wondrous. Then he put me into the bed and pulled the covers over my body. He removed the blindfold and I got the first glance of my captor as I tried to focus my eyes in the dim light of the room. He had a nice face, a kind face, not the face of someone who would drag you off a country road and abuse you. What had I expected, him to look like, a drooling monster? Somehow, his very niceness was worse.

“We need to eat, I’m going to cook dinner.” he said.

“I don’t want any!” I said sharply.

“Suit yourself.” he said. Then he left the room, leaving me in the bed. He didn’t lock the door, he didn’t need to, chained as I was. Looking around the room, I could see, even though the curtains were drawn, that is was dark. I had no idea what time it was, my watch was gone and I felt disorientated. My body told me it was evening. I realised that the room had a little bathroom attached and I scurried into it, realising that my chain gave me a certain freedom of movement, but not enough to escape. I had a few fruitless goes at breaking the chain, and then gave up. Looking at myself, I could see I was dressed in long white socks and a short blue gingham dress, with frills on the bottom, a little girl’s dress. Lifting my skirt, I could see my new underwear was white cotton. It all fitted perfectly. Then I heard him coming back up the stairs and leapt into the bed, hiding under the covers.

He came in, lifted each of my arms out of the bed so they were above the covers and put a glass of water at my side.

“Dinner is nearly ready. Will you eat?”

“No” I said, lips tight.

“Fine”.

He left the room and I lay quietly as the smells of cooking wafted upstairs. My tummy growled. I tried to ignore it. Eventually, worn out, I slept fitfully.

After dinner, he came back, woke me brusquely. He was angry that I hadn’t eaten, I could see it in his eyes and it gave me a perverse satisfaction.

“You know, if the Russians had you, they would just rape you every half an hour and have done with it.” he said.

I bit back, spirit not entirely undimmed. “Well I suppose you’d like to do that if you were actually able to get it up that often!”

His face darkened. “What did you say?”

My tummy twisted with anxiety. “Nothing.”

He grabbed my hair viciously, spun me onto my tummy and then laid into me with a heavy strap, making me scream as he used it with force, entirely without any care. I squealed out an apology and repeated what I’d said.

“I haven’t got started properly yet. I’m breaking you slowly.” he snarled before lashing the strap down again. Then, when I was sobbing on the bed, bottom burning, welts risen, he rubbed some cream into my sore backside.

“Why are you doing that? Why do you hurt me then take care of me?”

“I don’t want to damage the merchandise. Your price will drop.” he said simply.

Then started the torment again. The things he did were too many, too numerous to describe here, but I cried again and again as I was hurt, beaten and used by this man.

Sometime in the small hours, only able to tell it was late by my body clock, he explained his plans. If I proved amenable, he had a private client with very specific requirements, a woman, not a girl, who looked like me and had certain, specific attributes.  He thought I met those. I only had to prove myself in one more way. If I didn’t, well, it was a one way street out of this room. There was no going back. He advised me to meet the client’s requirements, because I would find it easier to be the private slave of a single wealthy man than to be at the mercy of anyone who had a few dollars to pay for me.

I couldn’t cry. I felt empty of tears, like my thirsty body refused to make any more.

“What’s the last test?” I whispered into the dark.

He slid his hand down to pussy and winced at the soreness. But I was still wet. This was the only part of my parched body with any moisture. He started to stroke me and my treacherous body responded. It didn’t take much and soon I was writhing with pleasure, pleasure rather than pain until I exploded in orgasm, the sensations so violent that I bucked and wriggled and cried out to Heaven as my body trembled with pleasure.

The sensations subsided. I felt weak all over.

I felt him smile in the dark.

“Well done. That’s what my client wants. Someone who can enjoy her torment whilst being obedient to his every whim. You obviously can and it doesn’t surprise me – I’m rarely wrong when I pick a woman to take. Forget your old life. This is your new one.”

I slept. My sleep was dreamless. But the chain still held me down.