Abducted Ch 06

Chapter 6 – It Just Got Worse

The two men got back into their uniforms, but left Emma naked. They conversed together in whispers. Emma strained her ears, but could make out nothing. Suddenly Clyde strode towards her, grabbed her wrists and pulled her off the bed and to her feet. He marched her across the room to an upright frame and tied her wrists to the cross-bar, above her head, about a metre apart. She struggled, and kicked out, but Boris held her around her thighs, taking the opportunity to let his fingers explore again her cum-soaked cunt.

Clyde pressed a button, and she felt the cross-bar rise, pulling her arms upwards until her feet left the ground and she was suspended by her wrists. He pressed again, and the bar fell a few centimetres, allowing her extended toes to take a little of the pressure as they touched the floor. She heard the rustling of a package being opened. "Hey, Clyde, look what I've found," called Boris, obviously impressed with a discovery. "These are brand new – I've never seen them before."

"What?" enquired Clyde, sounding bored. "More toys?"

"Japanese Clover Clamps," announced Boris proudly. "Apparently, they actually tighten on the nipple when you pull on them. Very ingenious. Let's try them on the slut!"

Boris walked towards Emma, who stared at him apprehensively. He reached out towards her right breast, and stroked it lightly. Emma swung a leg, trying to knee him in the groin, but he deftly avoided her.

"Fucking minx!" he swore. "Fasten her ankles please, Clyde!"

Emma struggled helplessly as Clyde adeptly fixed ropes to her ankles and secured them to the base of the frame.

Boris again stroked her right breast, with surprising gentleness. He grinned. "Mmm! Great tits!" he announced, "So firm!" He licked her nipple, and then hungrily sucked it between his lips, biting it gently, and feeling it harden to his touch. He pulled back to admire her again. "Oh yes, really great!" he exclaimed. "Nicest tits I've seen in ages!"

Then he let his nails drag along the white flesh. He flexed his fingers, digging in harder, as Emma squirmed and tried to pull away. Holding her breast with his left hand, Boris took the clamps and tried to apply them to Emma's erect nipple, but couldn't get the jaws positioned correctly. He looked at Clyde, silently asking for help. Clyde gripped first one breast then the other, holding out the distended nipples so that Boris could snap the clamps in place. Emma stared with disbelief at the torture being applied to her poor tits. Silently, she begged for mercy, and sobbed. Boris pulled on the chain which connected the two clamps, and she grimaced as they tightened even more around her nipples. Boris noticed. "It works!" he announced triumphantly. "They tighten up as you apply pressure! Great!"

"Very interesting!" replied Clyde, with a bored expression, "But we still haven't punished her for trying to escape, and for trying to stick me with a knife! You can play with your fancy toys later, but what this bitch needs is a damn good whipping!"

He went over to a cupboard on the wall and selected a thin cane, flicking it through the air several times, and enjoying the 'WHOOSH' sound it made. Emma's eyes opened wide as she watched his practice swings. She braced herself, realising that there was no possible escape. Boris watched his companion, noting his steely gaze; obviously Clyde intended revenge.

There was a brief silence, and then the whistle of the thin cane as it sliced through the air, followed by a satisfying crack as it came to a halt against the soft white flesh of Emma's left buttock. Boris heard the sudden intake of breath as the blow landed and the brief pause before it registered on Emma's brain. Then came the first scream. It always surprised him that a girl experiencing the cane for the first time could communicate so much with a single scream - the shock that such a simple stick could yield so much pain, the agony of the stroke itself, the begging and pleading, and the utter horror in the realisation that the stroke was the first of many. Again Clyde struck, this time on the other buttock. Emma screamed again, watching the cane rise, trying to work out how she could avoid the pain. Clyde continued caning her, carefully picking the placement of each stroke, sometimes spacing them far apart, sometimes right on top of each other. After only a few minutes, Emma's bottom and the back of her thighs were covered with welts.

"Wait!" Boris interjected.

Emma whimpered. "Thank you," she gasped, thinking that he was stopping the punishment.

"Let me re-arrange her for you," continued Boris.

He untied Emma's right ankle, but then pulled it sideways, until her leg was at an angle of forty-five degrees to her body. He attached her ankle to the side of the frame, leaving her weight balanced on her left foot. He then untied that foot, and pulled it sideways as well, attaching it to the opposite side of the frame. Now, her weight hung from her wrists, and her body formed an 'X'.

"Thanks," said Clyde, smiling broadly, and swishing the cane underhand, twice, in rapid succession, across the tender insides of Emma's thighs. She howled, but she had no more tears. Clyde repeated his onslaught, and two more red weals decorated her thighs.

Emma gasped. "Please, no!" she pleaded, "I'm sorry I tried to escape. I'm sorry I attacked you. Please stop. I can't take any more!"

She sighed in relief when she saw Clyde set the cane down. Then, to her utter dismay, she realised that he had not finished; he was merely switching to a flogger. Emma stared at it in disbelief. It had about a dozen long, thin leather tails, each ending in a thick knot. She strained uselessly at the bonds that held her suspended in midair. Perspiration streamed down her body, so open, so exposed, and so vulnerable. She braced herself against the inevitable pain.

Clyde aimed the first stroke right across Emma's breasts. Most of the leather strips found their way directly to her flesh, the knots at their ends stinging her violently, but some tangled with the chain on her nipple clamps, increasing the pressure on her tender tits. Her body stiffened in agony as she screamed for the hundredth time and begged her tormentor to stop.

Clyde ignored her pleas, and kept on whipping her. The strands of leather fell on her stomach, her thighs, and again on her breasts. He moved behind her and directed more strokes on her buttocks and back. He then used an uppercut motion to land a blow directly against her sore, abused pussy. It was too much. Emma felt herself fainting, felt as if her mind was leaving her body behind. She knew she couldn't take anymore. Then she heard a soft, guttural moan, followed by a gentle hiss. She opened her eyes wide. Boris and Clyde were staring at her. "Hell, Clyde," exclaimed Boris in astonishment, "I think she liked that last one. Give it to her there again."

Emma realised that she herself had made the moaning sound, and the hiss. She shook her head violently. "No!" she screamed. "No more, please!"

The stroke landed despite her cries. The animal moan returned as she shuddered and quaked. The soaring sensation returned. She stared in disbelief at Clyde. "Please, Sir," she whispered, "please. I need to cum. Please!"

Clyde whistled in admiration. "Hell, woman," he exclaimed, "you are some fine slut!" He let the flogger fall to the floor, and reached out his hand to feel between her legs. "Mmm, really damp. OK, Slut, I'll bring you off!"

Almost brutally, he forced two fingers of his right hand into her welcoming cunt, and pressed urgently on her clitoris with the tips of the fingers of his left. Suspended from her wrists, Emma strained against him. "Yes," she heard herself say, "yes, that's good!"

Clyde continued to fuck her with his fingers, and frig her clitoris. Her moans and cries grew louder. Boris pulled on the chain attached to her nipple clamps, and the additional pressure on her tender buds sent her over the top, crying out loudly as she came.

As Emma recovered from a shattering orgasm, she felt her ankles being released from the frame, and thankfully was able to support her weight on her feet, taking the strain off her agonised arms and shoulders. She opened her eyes and noticed Boris seated at the computer screen. "OK, Clyde!" he announced, "I've entered up the details. What's next?"

"Don't know," replied Clyde. "I think we've beaten her enough to teach her a lesson. I'm a bit bored with it, and hungry. Let's go for dinner, and continue here later."

"But I want to experiment with some more toys," complained Boris.

"Come on, Boris, I'm really hungry. We can leave her tied up and come back after we've eaten; there's lots of time."

"OK," agreed Boris with some reluctance, "but help me set her up before we go. There's something here I really must try."

Emma watched with bewilderment as Boris picked up what looked like a large metal T-square, with a spike, about fifty centimetres long, and about one centimetre in diameter, and a couple of switches. He carried it over to the frame, turned it upside down, and placed it on the bottom bar of the frame, moving Emma's feet to allow him access. "Here, Clyde," he commanded, "I'll hold it steady while you screw it to the frame at both ends."

Emma looked down. To her horror she now realised that the spike on the T-square was aimed straight at her pussy. Realisation dawned. She whimpered. She squirmed, cursing the bonds which held her wrists secure, and swung her right leg, yelling, "NO! You can't do that!"

Boris grabbed her ankle. Silently, he started to tie it to the bottom of the frame. She swung her left leg, but Clyde was ready for her and grabbed it almost as soon as it moved. "Tie her ankle to the frame, Clyde," ordered Boris, "but leave about ten centimetres play, like I'm doing. You'll see why in a few minutes."

"Now, we need a suitable cover," he continued, opening a wooden case, and revealing a large selection of dildos, in a variety of shapes and sizes. "This would be great," he mused, picking up a large double dildo, "but we've been warned off your ass!"

He rummaged further. "This will do nicely," he finally announced, "not too big, not too small." He picked out a large flesh-coloured, natural-looking specimen, twenty centimetres long and about three centimetres across, fitting it snugly onto the waiting spike. He loosened the nut at the end of the spike, raising it so that the end of the dildo was at the entrance to Emma's vagina. Instinctively, she shrank away from it, rising on tip-toe. Boris took a tube of lubricating gel, applied a good dollop to the dildo, and smeared some on the inner walls of her vagina. "Hold her hips steady, Clyde," he asked, "I'll make sure this thing docks correctly." He pushed a switch, and Emma felt the intruder pushing upwards, separating the lips of her pussy, and entering her cavern. She winced, and tried to get further on to her tip-toes, but the dildo continued its slow progress. Emma tried lifting her body by pulling with her bound wrists, but the ropes on her ankles allowed only a couple of centimetres extra movement.

Finally, Boris flicked the switch again, and the advance ceased. "That should do it," he announced, "there's about twelve centimetres up there now, but you're on tip-toe. If you come down, I reckon your clit will rub nicely on the little nub at the base. Want to try it?"

"No, I don't, you bastard. You can't leave me here like this. Let me go!"

"Oh yes, we can," he sneered, "and I'm not finished yet. I need to do something about these!"

Boris pulled roughly on the chain attaching the clamps on her nipples, and Emma gasped as the clamps dug deeper into her flesh. Boris looked thoughtful. He sought and found a couple of lead weights, which he attached to the chain. Emma gasped again. Boris stepped back and viewed her with a practised eye. "No," he mused, "I don't like the way it makes your tits sag and hang down." He thought again, his brow furrowed, but suddenly a smile appeared on his lips. "Yes!" he hissed, "I've got it!"

He searched and found some thin twine. Standing on a stool, he passed one end through a pulley on the ceiling directly above Emma. He then tied one end of the twine to the centre of the nipple chain, and removed the weights. Getting down on the floor, he attached the weights to the other end of the twine, so that they just rested on the floor. Emma watched with consternation as he pulled on the twine, her breasts being forced upwards in the shape of a cone, the clamps biting into her tender nipples. Boris added some more weights, made a few further adjustments, and then stood up to admire his handiwork.

"What do you think, Clyde," he asked proudly. "Look, if the bitch stands on tip-toe, the weights rest on the floor, but when her feet and ankles get too sore for tip-toe, and she comes down, the weights are pulled off the floor, and the pain in her tits will increase. Ingenious, isn't it?"

"Yes, Boris," said Clyde, with a supremely bored expression, "Very clever. Can we go now?"

"Please, no!" screamed Emma suddenly. "You can't do this, please. I can't bear any more."

"Oh, and one final thing," replied Boris, "this switch works as well."

As he pressed the second switch, the dildo began vibrating gently. It didn't move a lot, just buzzed slightly in Emma's vagina, feeling remarkably like a fast-fluttering tongue. Emma sighed, and moaned. "No, please," she whimpered. "No more!"

"Not sure how long the battery will last," announced Boris, "but we're off now. We won't be too long. Enjoy yourself while we're away."

"You bastards!" called Emma as they locked the door behind them.

Emma hung on her frame, and considered her sad predicament. Raped, abused, humiliated, tortured, left here in agony, she saw no prospect of release. The dildo in her pussy was no problem; she could cope with that – in fact the constant buzz was becoming quite pleasant. She could live with the clamps on her nipples; they had been there so long, she was getting used to the constant pain. If, however, she came down from tip-toe, the weights applied extra pressure to the clamps, and the pain increased tenfold. Already, a pain was building in the arches of her feet, and travelling up the backs of her calves; it got worse with every second. She wouldn't be able to keep on tip-toe much longer.

She tried pulling on her wrists, attempting to take the strain off her feet and legs, but her arms were already wracked with pain. No – she couldn't hold this much longer. Experimentally, she lowered her heels to the top of the bar to which she was attached. The weights came off the floor, and a piercing agonising pain grasped her distended nipples. Her breasts were pulled, distorted into a sharp cone. She grimaced, and suppressed a scream.

No, that was no good; she couldn't stand this for long either.

She peered down towards her feet, at the weights hanging from the long length of twine, watching them sway backwards and forwards.

Suddenly, an idea began to take shape in her befuddled brain. The weights were swaying, like a pendulum, almost touching her toes. She bit her lip against the impending pain, went on tip-toe so as to ground the weights, and quickly dropped her heels again.

Yes! As a shot of agony surged through her tortured tits, she saw with delight that the swaying was increased. Concentrating madly, fighting the immense pain, she raised and lowered her heels in time with the swinging of the pendulum, increasing the arc of swing, and bringing the twine ever closer to her outstretched toes. Finally, in exuberance, she was able to grasp the twine between the toes of her right foot and hold it there. Her pulse raced. She relaxed momentarily, and then pulled on her wrists, raising her feet as much as possible, managing to reach the weights with the outstretched toes of her left foot. She tried to guide them onto the bottom bar of her frame. At the third attempt she succeeded. She relaxed her wrists, and allowed her heels to descend to the bar. Oh yes! With utter joy, she realised that the weights stayed on the bar, above the floor, and now she could relax her feet from tip-toe without having to submit to an unendurable agony from the nipple clamps.

Through the dull ache in her nipples, Emma was aware of the constant throb from the dildo in her pussy. It penetrated her by about twenty centimetres. She pushed against it, and found that the little ridge at the end vibrated gently against her clitoris. It felt good, and she automatically tightened the walls of her vagina around the intruder. "Oh, Max!" she whispered to herself, tears trickling down her cheek, "Oh, Tiger! I wish you were here!"

Exhausted, she hung on her frame, barely conscious, aware only of the pain in her arms and breasts, and of the vibrations in her pussy. She gazed down at her naked body, the soft white flesh criss-crossed with angry red welts – on her breasts, stomach, pubic area, and thighs. She could only imagine what her poor buttocks and back looked like. She sobbed quietly, all hope now vanquished. She lost track of time. It seemed that hours had passed since her tormentors had left her here. She found that the pain lessened a little if she pushed herself against the dildo, clamped her pussy around it, and thought of Max, remembering his expert love-making, and imagining his tongue on her clit, his cock in her cunt. Slowly, almost unwittingly, she found herself moving up and down on the dildo. "Oh, Max. Oh, yes, Max, my Tiger! Fuck me! Hurt me!" Her mind seemed distant again. She closed her eyes, and drifted in a warm sea of pleasure, mixed with numbing pain. She rubbed her clit against Max's finger as if drunk, trying to forget to her predicament.

Suddenly, the door burst open. The abrupt movement startled Emma from her reverie, and the resulting vibration on the frame toppled the weights. Emma howled as the clamps bit into her nipples and the chains distended her tits. She came to; Max had disappeared; only Boris and Clyde were in the room, shouting at each other, and at her.

"Hurry up. Get her off that frame quickly. We've only got a few minutes before they arrive," cried Boris excitably.

Boris untied her ankles and Clyde her wrists. Boris lifted her off the still-throbbing dildo, and Emma screamed as Clyde removed the nipple clamps, allowing the blood to rush back into her tormented buds. Hurriedly, Boris carried her over to the screen. "Quick!" he commanded, "Have a toilet and clean yourself up a bit. We're expecting company."

Emma sat on the toilet seat, glad to relieve her bursting bladder. She rubbed her aching wrists and arms, trying to restore circulation. "Hurry up!" called Clyde. "We don't have much time."

In a daze, Emma hobbled to the basin, wet a flannel, and tried to rub it over her face and body. Her arms were so sore she could hardly manage to hold the flannel, let alone use it. "I can't!" she said. "My arms won't work. They're too sore."

Boris appeared behind the screen, grabbed the flannel from her and roughly wiped it over her tear-stained face. "Water, please," she murmured to him.

He filled a glass, and she drank greedily.

Boris continued wiping down her ravaged body and with his incompetent fingers made an attempt to re-arrange her hair. "That'll have to do," he finally announced. "We're running out of time."

"Who is coming?" asked Emma, tremulously.

"Just some friends. You'll find out soon. I hope you like them," he responded with a grin.

Roughly, Boris grabbed her arm, and pulled her back into the room. Clyde was standing near the bed, holding ropes. "On the bed?" he asked.

"Yes. Face up!" agreed Boris.

Within seconds, Emma found herself lying on the bed, her wrists and ankles tied to the four corners, leaving her thighs spread and her pussy exposed. The door rattled. "OK!" yelled Boris, "Two minutes! Nearly there!"