The hour seemed to go on forever and Anari felt ridiculously relieved when she heard footsteps re-enter the room and a light being switched on. She had felt terrorised, left there on her own like that, naked, exposed, cold and in the dark.
His fingers were quickly on her, pushing the plug in and out of her slowly, letting her muscles contract around it. His other hand moved again to her pussy, delighted at finding her wet and wanting. He thrust his fingers inside her, three of them, to begin fucking her with them. Two holes at the same time.
Anari's head was swimming with lust and she didn't want to enjoy herself in front of this cold man. She wanted anything other than to feel desire for him. But she could not control her lust and her soft moaning was heard from beneath the gag.
The Master enjoyed hearing Anari's moans. He'd known she'd be a natural. So wet, so quickly. Lovely, he thought. With that, one sharp tug pulled the butt plug from within her.
Anari screamed as loud as she could, with her mouth filled tight. That hurt. Oh wow. Evil man. Her eyes watered again. His hands continued to fuck her pussy, though, and this quietened her quickly. She was close to release now. Soon, oh so soon. But then, she felt another plug touch its head to her sphincter, this one much bigger than before. The shaking of her head returned. She squirmed in her chair, to no avail.
The fingers in her pussy served to relax her slightly though and the plug quickly found its way into the depths of her. A tear escaped, slowly trickling down one cheek, a sign of the pain she was dealing with. She would never have believed it could be so awful. This pain of having her ass stretched, filled to bursting and nothing she could do to stop it. She could barely even moan. Anari had no time to linger on these thoughts, though, as the Master's fingers were bringing her to orgasm, quickly taking her to the peak of release. Right on the edge of orgasm, he stopped abruptly. There was no way he was going to let her cum today. He wanted her frustrated and begging release. Wanted to see just how much frustration she could take.
'I am going to leave you again to adjust to your new plug, Anari. I will return for you in an hour to see how you like it.... Then, my dear, we have other things planned... ' The echoing sounds of footsteps left the room once more, sending Anari back into a dark room of cold terror.
Anari's body ached with the strain of trying to keep still. If she attempted to find some relief against the pull of her ropes, she felt acute pain as the plug inside her stretched ass moved, feeling as if it was tearing her apart. By now her nipples were numb, still clenched in the bite of those hateful clamps. A tear trickled from her eye, to be soaked up by the cloth blindfold. However had she got into this situation, she asked herself -- held prisoner and tortured by a house of mad people? And then she remembered once more that she had voluntarily signed herself over to them. How on earth would she manage to last the month out? A despairing moan escaped from her gagged mouth.
She wasn't sure how long she was left there. Then the sound of a door opening and the click of high heels crossing the floor. The blindfold was removed and, as she blinked in the light, she saw Miss Simpson. The secretary began to untie the ropes holding her to the chair. As the last coil fell away from her aching wrists, Anari made to stand upright, grateful to be no longer bent over in that humiliating position. Miss Simpson stopped her with a hand on her back. 'Stay there. I need to take this out.' Anari felt the woman's fingers, cool and slender, move to her ass and she braced herself. As the invasive plug was slowly slid out of her, Anari gasped and clenched her fists. Even when it was removed, she still felt her hole was gaping.
'Now you can stand up. Face me.' Stiffly, and with the ball-gag still in her mouth, Anari obeyed. The woman looked at her coolly. Anari was conscious of her dishevelled state, hair awry, breasts exposed. Miss Simpson reached out and began to unclip the nipple clamps, her hands lingering over the rounded, pert breasts.
Momentarily Anari breathed a sigh of relief, glad to be rid of the horrible things -- then suddenly let out a muffled scream of anguish as the blood started to pump back into her tortured nipples. 'Pull your dress back up and follow me,' ordered Miss Simpson. 'The Master wants you.'
Too cowed to make any resistance, sniffling in pain from her bruised nipples, Anari followed the retreating secretary' up the stairs to the library. The Master was already there, seated as he had been when Anari first arrived. A plain wooden chair stood in the middle of the room, with coils of rope lying on the seat. 'Deal with her, please, Miss Simpson,' said the Master, picking up a newspaper in seeming indifference. The woman nodded, picked up the ropes and took Anari by the arm. 'Turn round,' she said. 'Put your hands behind your back, palms together.' Inwardly Anari groaned. Not more bondage. But she obeyed without demur. Efficiently the secretary bound her wrists and arms, pulling the rope snugly around her body, emphasising the thrust of her full breasts.
Miss Simpson indicated the chair. 'Sit down.' Once seated, Anari was roped to the chair frame so that she couldn't move. Her legs were lifted so that they rested on the chair seat, her ankles crossed. These were securely bound and held in place by a length of rope linked to her waist. Anari was aware that this position opened her thighs wide, exposing her pussy. Now Miss Simpson opened a drawer and brought out a large vibrator. Carefully she placed it between Anari's spread thighs, the head against her clit. Thin cord tied it in place. She switched it on.