She was obsessed with the old lighthouse. She did not know if it was its blatant phallic form or the white light on the top – now extinguished – or something else, but it held a siren call for her.
When she mentioned it would be nice to watch fireworks from it, he said with exasperation, "You want a lighthouse? I'll GIVE you a lighthouse AND fireworks. Oh yes!"
Oh the Fourth of July, at dusk, he made her drive them to the lighthouse in her convertible. She was wearing a billowing gray skirt and a tight white latex corset. It took him an hour to lace it tightly. Tina's mirrored shades defended her from occasional insulting stare at her elegant steel collar or her ringed boobs riding proud above it. She did not know what he had in mind, but, she knew it would be SOMETHING wicked and hot. He was moody as he often was.
She drove fast.
They arrived at the desolate promontory and he took her towards the lone stone finger, its whiteness sketched against the darkening sky. It was windy and cool. Walking across the grass in her high-heeled Manolos he made her wear was tricky.
They arrived at the fence and Tina stared at the sign:
DANGER
THIS SITE IS NOT SAFE
THE BUILDING IS UNDER RECONSTRUCTION
ABSOLUTELY NO VISITORS.
TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED.
YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
A pang of fear ran through her body. Tina felt his hand grip her guts. 'If it is unsafe, what are we.....?'
She saw him pocket his cell phone after a brief exchange and pull out a key. He opened the creaking gate and motioned her through.
As she passed him, he ripped off her skirt in one motion. After all, it was made to be ripped off. He stuffed it into a puffer bag and pulled out a latex arm binder and cuffs connected with a single, wide link.
Tina obediently offered her hands on her back. The clutch and antsy fear inside her stomach grew stronger. Once he cuffed her, he took his time lacing the arm binder. It went almost to shoulders and gripped her arms excruciatingly. Then he bent her arms at elbows, pulling her cuffed hands towards her head. He connected them to her collar and finally tied it all tightly, using extra laces to bind it to her corset. The arrangement pushed her heavily ringed tits even further out.
The boiling calm of the space enveloped her as he slapped her now very exposed ass, moving her towards the dark opening at the base of the lighthouse.
As she stared at the metal door, he blindfolded her, muttering: "And now let's work towards the slut fireworks."
She heard the grate of the door and fretfully moved in.
Somehow she FELT the tubular space rising above her. In her mind, it was vast and threateningly stifling at the same time. She imagined a wooden stairs hugging its sides, winding towards the top platform three stories away. They stairs must be following a row of narrow windows that she noticed before.
He pushed her on and she heard wood resound under her heels. She flinched as he gripped her ass cheek and yelped as he shoved a butt plug unceremoniously in her ass. It was unlubed.
"You will now earn every step of the way up. A bitch has to work for her way to the top."
She heard the soft then sharp whisper of the flogger. It echoed in the lighthouse as it connected with her bareness.
"Move on, bitch. And keep moving.'
She moved.
She found her way up the stairs one torturous, stammering step at the time. The flogger mercilessly spurred her on. The rhythmical cadence of the echoing strikes was etched on her ever reddening ass.
After a few steps she tripped and felt his hand grip her shoulder steadying her.
"Careful little one. These stairs are old and in bad repair. Reach the top if you can."
He went on with his job and she went on with hers. She imagined a lonely form of the bound woman casting a long shadow across the creaky stairs and bare walls towards the yawing hole in the middle. Unforgiving instrument of pain urged her on towards the unknown's heights.
Her beaded pussy began to twitch insistently.
Suddenly her foot found an empty space instead of the step. She stumbled and this time he did not hold her and she fell heavily on the first landing.
His hand gripped the butt plug base, pulled it out, and rammed it back forcefully, pushing her across the old planks.
"MOVE BITCH! Crawl if you have to!"
She crawled. She heard creaking and thought she felt the platform move under her. Another, stronger pang of fear ran from her stomach to her curled toes and back.
He pushed her on. She crawled until her trembling hands found the first step of the next flight of stairs. She felt his arm around her torso, enveloping her, grabbing her throat, pulling her face upwards. Her open, trembling lips rose in an inarticulate plea.
"The next rate of the payment!" she heard him whisper throatily.
The painful tugging spread from her nipples. He had attached the connecting chain to her heavy nipple rings. She knew he was linking the leash to it. He threw it over her shoulder and looped it through the link connecting her cuffs and drew it tight.
He pushed her onwards and the leashes tightened. Tina's tits screamed. She tottered on her feet feeling its very presence steadying her.
The familiar whizzing whistle preceded the sharp cut of pain on her plugged bottom. The cane was to goad her on the next level.
She moved on, leaning far forward, leaning on the tight leash, her pulled boobs paying the price of security. The empty lighthouse acted as acoustic torture chamber. Amplified and multiplied THWACKS on her ass and buttock carried more weight that the pain itself. It propelled her upwards along the shaky stairway.
The creaking gave her repeated jitters. Tina moved from side to side. She would brush the walls feeling the powdered mortar falling on her and then she would slide to the other side, imagining the stairs leaning toward the empty space, the spine of the now dreadful lighthouse.
Tina always thought the stories about sluts slipping in their own juice were just a fantasy. She was not sure about that anymore. Her inner thighs were slick with her juice and sweat. Her feet were slipping and sliding in her moisture-filled Manolos.
She was moving deeper and deeper into uncharted regions of subspace. Tina felt tightly packed and enclosed in scratchy cotton – yet horribly free. The humiliating throb of her pussy was triggered by increasing waves of pain and fear. It pushed her into a no-think zone.
Tina could feel and hear the stairs dangerously moving and swaying. She felt herself tottering on their very edge, certain there was no railing. She held back from the kiss of the abyss only by his strong hold on her leash - hoping that he will not let her fall. Surprisingly she was not certain of it any more.
Her mind flashed the black and white image: an armless woman leaning deeply forward, almost crawling, held onto the leash by the man swinging the cane viciously. In the back-lighted halo of light his hair was flying wildly. His heavy breathing and laughter were echoing in starkly lit vertical space.
