I strung up Kara's half naked body in such a way that it was erotically pleasing to me - her kidnapper - and yet not entirely wrenching for my victim. It started with my new slave being ushered inside the Punishment Room in only an ordinary pair of powder blue, cotton panties. So she was barefoot. And it needs to be stated that upstairs - before Kara and I had made our way to the more sinister portions of my dungeon - the brunette had been obliged (by me) to pull up her lustrous black hair into a tight bun atop her head. I thought (correctly) that this would set off Kara's sad brown eyes and her pale bare shoulders.
I had taken to referring to my captive as a royalty-level whore. High praise.
But again...her body. Without subjecting poor Kara to a debilitating gag (for this installment of playtime) I made sure that the handcuffs pinning my brunette's arms behind her back sufficiently pinched. Which made her look especially lovely, upright as she was, atop the soles of her naked feet in the very center of the chamber I had prepared for this educational experience. These circumstances magnified the degrading nature (and almost intolerable pain) of the ropes I then circled about each of my victim's elbows. So that I could cinch Kara's arms closer together behind her back (she squealed) and then run an overhead line from this binding to a davit high up in the ceiling above Kara's head (she wailed).
I told Kara she was being a very, very good girl.
Be advised that the restraints - such as they now were - forced Kara to tilt her torso the tiniest fraction of an inch forward. And thus rest her body mass uncomfortably upon the balls of her dainty feet. Belowstairs nothing is done for no reason...so it can be certain that the spectacle provided by my sadistic rope work upon Kara's worthless body was stellar. Her full, tanned breasts propped forward...nipples erect out of fear. Shapely legs trembling from the effort of trying (pathetically) to absorb/relieve the stress in matching sets of calves and toes. And - ultimately - an angelic face contorted with misery. With pain. And the anxiety in not knowing what might be next.
I believe it was right about then that I casually mentioned to Kara how pretty she was. And how lucky she'd been in becoming my selection for torment. I mouthed these trifles of humiliation at Kara even as my hands pushed those powder blue, cotton panties down off my slave's hips and left them halfway between Kara's waist and her knees. To augment her (deserved) shame I immediately applied more biting ropes to each of Kara's sexy legs just below the knee...until these circlets were exquisitely mated together in a triple coil of hemp restraint. Not gonna' lie...as I was down there getting Kara's lower extremities just right I spent a considerable amount of time watching her struggle to keep her balance atop the balls of her feet. As such the end result of punishment-restraint that I'd rehearsed on a half dozen lesser victims was coming to full fruition upon a goddess like Kara Dean.
Such a good girl.
I must have then spent at least forty-five minutes getting the lighting inside the chamber adequately suited for the pair of cameras I had situated atop tripods for the occasion. Plus I had to select the perfect pieces of Mozart and Copeland to augment this particular session with the slut Kara. Until - at last - I condescended to pulling up an ordinary metal folding chair alongside where my victim was writhing in agony. Because as I had mentioned to Kara earlier when she was putting her hair up (just for me!) and donning these powder blue, cotton panties (chosen by me!) it was high time we had a little chat. You know, all leisurely and such!
(She looked a picture right there, in front of me. A feast for my eyes. Within easy reach of my hands, my fingertips, my lips, my lash. There's nothing in the world matching the satisfaction in seeing the half naked body of a female you're obsessed with contort in crippling misery. A private audience. A behind the velvet ropes look at the intimacy of Kara Dean. As well as the vulnerability of her worthless - and now, much abused - body. She looked a picture...)
So as I'd done inside this very room with a few other unfortunate women who'd caught my attention I popped open a Mountain Dew. Placed one last dab of lighting directly onto Kara's breasts. And began to instruct the weak with the toxicity of the strong. I told Kara - then and there - what I liked about her efforts thus far. You understand, when I raped her. Which obligated me to also mention those things that the brunette needed to continue to work on IF she ever sought to completely convince her new Master that she had ANY value whatsoever. You understand, in bed...when I raped her. It was music to my ears to hear pretty Kara submissively agreeing with each and every detail concerning her strengths and defects as my personal prostitute. I mean, in between each moan of pain and every shriek of excruciating agony she experienced as her Owner 'adjusted ropes' and 'tightened ropes' and 'raised and/or elevated ropes' during our productive session Belowstairs.
"No...please...PLEASE! Oh, please...ee - aagghh! Na - aarrgghhhhhh! EE - AARRGGGGHHHHHH! Oh, please, please stop...PLEASE!"
Kara told me what I wanted to hear and I played it like I always do. I gave the helpless brunette the good news that the alligator clips I was now placing upon the tips of her exposed breasts and her already bruised nipples would be removed in an hour. And not the three or four hours that Lisa and Allison had been forced to endure. With that the powder blue, cotton panties still perched humiliatingly between Kara's waist and knees were knifed off her exhausted body and summarily shoved inside her mouth. To be sealed with swaths of silver duct tape. Simply for the reason that when I played my anal games with Kara Dean I preferred to hear her grunt in muffled agony. Rather than shriek in pain at a decibel level not becoming to a royalty-level whore.