I was painfully aroused, my pussy soaked and my nipples rock hard, and I would have done anything just to come. I began to beg almost as soon as I was awake, pleading for the vibrator to be turned up, for my hands to be freed for just a moment so I could touch myself. I even begged to be fucked, to be used. It didn't matter what they did to me if only they would let me come.
It wasn't master Hawkes who had come to collect me that morning but one of the men who had used my mouth the day before and he completely ignored my babbling promises to do anything he'd like. He pulled the vibrator from my sopping wet pussy and I moaned and arched my back from the blessed sensation, craving more. He then released my arms from the floor, only to pull me into a sitting position and clip them together behind my back before I could reach down to touch myself. As soon as he freed my ankles I immediately pressed my thighs together, desperate for some extra sensation, and he slapped one of my nipples. I yelped, still sore from the abuse I'd received the day before, and spread my legs slightly, hoping that if I behaved I might be allowed to come. He hauled me to my feet and marched me out of the room, turning down a branch of the corridor I hadn't seen the night before and through a door to the outer courtyard.
It was a cool, grey morning and my nipples puckered as a chill breeze brushed across my body. I shivered slightly, feeling the wetness on my pussy, and tried to hurry towards the doorway on the other side of the yard. The man slapped my ass and held me back to a sedate walk, dipping his fingers into my wetness and then spreading it on both of my nipples. By the time we entered the mansion I was covered in goosebumps, my clit and nipples were swollen and hard with arousal, and I was panting with the desperate need to come
We walked down what I presumed was the same hallway I'd been in the day before, the one with the lush, thick carpeting. I was shocked by the opulence of my surroundings, and stared openly at the richly paneled wood walls and velvet draperies on the windows. There were marble statues spaced evenly in the alcoves between the windows and I felt another stab of lust in my gut when I saw what they depicted. Figure after figure showed naked women being fucked or abused in some way, and the formal nature of the marble made it seem all the more erotic and kinky to me. I gasped when we passed the first painting, a scene that at first looked like a traditional foxhunt but on closer inspection featured naked women being chased across a field while men on horseback rode after them. I shivered as I remembered my capture from the day before and wondered if the women in the painting had experienced something similar.
After traversing another hallway I was led through a doorway and down a set of stairs into a completely different environment. This hall was made of cold, damp cement, and the floors were rough and uneven. Metal doors were set into the walls at regular spaces and it was at one of these that the man finally stopped. He produced a key from his pocket, unlocked the door, and led me inside, shutting and locking it behind him. I stared at the small space, a room the size of a large bathroom, and fidgeted, unsure of what was to come. There was no furniture in the room, save for a wallscreen tv and a large padded chair that looked like someone had crossed a dentist's chair with a gynecological chair. The length of the thing was adorned with thick leather straps that would secure whoever sat in it, and there were multiple pedals and dials arranged around the base. The man uncuffed my wrists and maneuvered me into the chair, placing my hands and feet carefully into their respective rests. He began to apply the restraints, each strap snugged down carefully until I was completely immobile. There was one across my forehead, one each above and below my breasts, one across my hips, and then straps holding my thighs, calves, and ankles to the leg supports that were spread wide. Two more bands encircled my wrists. I tested my bonds carefully, becoming more and more nervous, but I could move nothing but my fingers and toes. This was soon remedied as more tiny straps were placed across them, rendering me completely helpless.
I stared straight ahead at the blank tv screen, watching out of the corner of my eye as the man began to fiddle with an apparatus of pipes that descended from the ceiling. He made a few adjustments and then hit a button, making me gasp as three pinpoints of red light shot down and highlighted my nipples and clit. He corrected the placement of the lights slightly, and then, looking satisfied, he hit a switch on the wall and left the room. The pinpoints of light vanished and I heard the sound of the key in the lock. Some small part of me was still desperately aroused, my pussy still dripping, but I was terrified of what my punishment would be.
The screen in front of me flickered to life and I saw an image of myself, strapped down to the bizarre chair-like contraption. The camera panned over my naked body, focusing in on my dripping pussy, and then zoomed out slightly and paused. I waited, staring and wondering, and then jumped as a single droplet of water fell from the ceiling and landed on my clit. I strained my head, trying to look up high enough to see where it had come from, but the leather strap made it impossible to see. I looked back at the tv screen just in time to see another drop fall and land squarely on my left nipple, the coldness of it stiffening that sensitive bud. I moaned, suddenly seeing what was happening, and flinched as a third droplet landed on my right nipple. There was a pause of a few moments and then three drops fell at once, landing on both nipples and my clit at the same time. I gasped at the sensation, my clit hardening and swelling to a ridiculous size, and began to cry in frustration. They were going to torment me with these faint touches on my most sensitive parts, torture me by not letting me come. I wanted to scream at them, rail against their cruelty, but I was terrified that if I didn't behave they might do worse. I bit down on my lip, willing myself not to be aroused, and then moaned loudly as another droplet splashed down onto my throbbing clit.
The scene on the tv changed and once again I was subjected to videos of other women being abused. The first one was of a voluptuous redhead doing jumping jacks, her gigantic breasts bouncing up and down in a painful looking manner. Every so often she'd slow or wrap her arms around her chest in obvious discomfort, and a whip would snake out and strike her on the ass. She was crying, and I tried to feel empathy for her but all I could summon was a faint envy for her comparative freedom. I would have traded places with her in an instant, and as if to reinforce my thought three drops of water fell in quick succession to splash onto my clit. I bucked against the restraints, knowing it was futile but unable to stop myself, and moaned as the scene on the tv changed again.
This time it was lovely black lady being tormented, her large breasts lifted up and away from her chest by a pair of nipple clamps attached to a bar over her head. She was straddling a barrel shaped device with a small rubber cock on it, and as I watched she lowered herself onto the dildo, stretching her thick, dark nipples and causing a grimace to appear on her face. It was quickly chased away by a look of arousal though, and I heard a buzzing noise emanating from the device she was sitting on. I soon noticed that the chains on her nipples were being slowly tightened, her breasts being pulled further and further upwards, and it was only when she gave a despairing cry and lifted herself off the vibrating dildo that they stopped retracting and held position. I moaned, this time feeling a measure of sympathy as I realized that she was being made to torture her own nipples in order to come on the vibrator. The drops of water had been falling in random patterns as I watched her, and I was getting steadily hotter and hotter.
