When I let her go the first time (what...just prior to Covid?) it was implicit that she'd be raped again. By me. At a time of my choosing. In her own bed.
This is how any victim of mine bellies up to her new existence as my personal whore.
And that's why I'm tying off Erin's arms high above her head by her wrists. So that she can dangle on tip-toe (nude, cold, uncomfortable) inside her own bedroom and await the rape she's due. Given the manner in which Erin's pale breasts fall - and the length of her amazing legs - I plan on making our shared session as punishing as I can for the thirty-one year old, auburn haired slut.
You see pain (and humiliation) are the price Erin has to pay IF her rapist will again allow her the privilege of freedom. After she's been strung up. After she's been threatened with torture. After she's been raped repeatedly by a good strong Man that has used and abused her before. Back when she was in her twenties.
That time, our first time, Erin was held in a prison. A dungeon. And that long, languid body served as a sex slave for everything I had the opportunity and the right to subject it to. Pale and (eventually) submissive, Erin had towed the line, learned the rules and 'agreed' that - even after I allowed her a partial release - it was understood that I'd be back. That I'd knock on her door. That I'd painfully strip the clothing off her worthless body as she begged for mercy. That I'd rape her again.
Being that the Plan was I was going to rape Erin forever...
So the slut dangles helplessly before me. With a pair of her own clean panties stuffed inside her filthy mouth so that I can think and anticipate in peace. Once again I'm going to do everything I desire (everything that's needed) with that stellar body over the coming days and weeks. The only thing that's changed is the locale. The days of Erin being put through her paces Belowstairs are long gone. Today is today. Today I'm revisiting Erin.
We'll need some groceries. A few bottles of wine. Plenty more duct tape. The whore has a task sheet longer than her sexy legs. A mission statement more weighty than her swaying breasts. Erin has become my property again. When I let her go the first time it was understood I'd be back. So like the prey she was born to be Erin has silently waited for (and dreaded) the return of torture. Of my hands, my demands, my cock.
They never EVER go free. I just hurt them in different locations. Upon beds they've slept in before. Erin knows what's coming as I begin to fondle her breasts as she hangs like an ornament for my amusement. Her nipples are stiff. Erin is trembling. And I mention to the bitch that she finally has a bit of value once again.
Seeing that now it's certain she's going to be raped hard......
Edited by user Friday, January 3, 2025 9:27:45 AM(UTC)
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