Unknown

Illustrator unknown

Originally Published in Hogtie, Vol. 4, No. 3

Transcribed by guardian46w

Story Codes: M/f, cons, offer, bond, bdsm, tied, rope, hairtie, spreader, whipped, sex, X

Paul Barker was on the rebound.  He knew it and resented it, and he resented Pamela Townsend, because she knew it.  She was a close friend of his recent lover and ex-fiancee, Jennifer Adams, and he had few illusions as to why she'd invited him to her apartment.  He was wealthy (in a modest way) and would be wealthier when his father died.  He was handsome and muscular.  In short, he was a prime catch and Pamela was out to land him while the landing was good, he thought.  It wasn't a week since Jenny left him, and Pamela already had him in her sights.  But he was pissed off enough to take what he could get and then dump her, he told himself.

Not that Pamela wasn't an attractive hunk of woman.  He studied her pert features over the table and his eyes measured her shapely body cooly.  Her fawn-colored hair was long and straight, her blue eyes promising fleshly delights.  But he couldn't rid himself of the notion that an edge of calculation hid in her brilliant eyes and pearly smile.

"I was sorry to hear about you and Jenny," Pamela's voice was a throaty, velvet purr, Paul thought.

"It happens," he shrugged.

"But it shouldn't happen to a nice guy like you," she said softly.

"So?" His voice was irritated.  "I don't own her, for God's sake!  So, she hurt me.  Big deal!  Happens all the time."

"Maybe," Pamela nodded, "but when it does, you shouldn't sit and brood.  I've seen it, Paul - you're hurting over her, and you shouldn't.  I know her, and she really loves the other guy, but you're my friend, too.  She shouldn't have hurt you, and I don't like to see you in pain."

"Well, I don't see much to do about it," Paul muttered.

"What you need... " Pamela's blue eyes were brilliant, " ...is someone to help you forget it.  Someone to make you feel like what your are - a handsome, masculine man.

Paul blinked inwardly.  That was a hell of a lot more blunt than he'd expected, even if she was fishing for him.  And, damn it, she sounded sincere as hell!  But he wasn't about to take her at face value.

"Like Who?" he asked, equally blunt.  "You?"

"Maybe."  Here velvet purr tickled his nerves.  "I could show you a real good time, Paul, the kind Jenny never showed you."

Paul's mouth fell open and he closed it quickly.  Pamela had a reputation for directness, and she was aggressive on the job as a newspaper reporter, but this was more than he'd expected.  Still, his eyes roamed her body openly.  She was a luscious piece of ass.  And, he was feeling cut down to size, as if Jenny's change of heart meant he was somehow less than a man.

"Show me," he said softly."

"Sure."  She rose gracefully, blue silk dress molded to her body like paint.  Paul's eyes widened as she slowly unbuttoned the front of the dress and shrugged it down her arms and over her hips.  Her ripe body gleamed in the light, tanned and firm, cupped in tiny bra and panties.  And his eyes widened further as he saw what her high-necked, long-sleeved dress had hidden: a leather collar and wide wrist cuffs with shiny metal rings!

"Like what you see, Paul?" she whispered, and he felt the tingling tautness of his pants answer her question.  He nodded.

"Well, it's all yours, IF you're man enough to take it!"

"What do you mean, 'man enough'?" he growled.

"What I said," she smiled lazily, preening, stroking her breasts and belly.  "You see, I like men who are men.  Men who know what they want and take it, without any back-talk or that kind of shit.  I'm a good looking woman, Paul, we both know that, but I don't let just anyone possess me.  You have to earn that right."

"Like how?" he asked.

"Follow me," she purred, and led him, ass twitching like a well-oiled machine, into the bedroom.  She opened a closet and stood back, and Paul peered in, his jaw dropping at the array of ropes and leather straps, not to mention gags, two or three light whips, and discipline helmets.  He looked at Pamela.

"That's right," she whispered, licking tiny beads of sweat from her upper lip, her eyes hot and bright.  "Use whatever you want, if you can make me.  That's the test.  Man enough?"

Paul felt the taunt in her voice and was amazed at the wave of angry hunger that exploded within him.  His buried rage at Jenny awoke, redirected at this taunting, beautiful woman.  She wanted to be mastered?  Well, Fine!  All Right!  He selected equipment from the closet quickly.

Pamela watched him advance, a cool, superior smile on her ruby lips.  He grabbed her and spun her away from him, jerking her wrists behind her and locking the cuffs she already wore with a padlock.  She made no move to resist as he snapped rope around her elbows and cinched it tight, sinking the thin cord deep with his full strength.  Her shoulders stiffened in pain, but she just chuckled throatily as he tightened the noose, grinding her elbow joints harshly together.

"Nice knot," she jeered.  "Can you do anything else!"

Her voice infuriated him and he decided to silence her.  He locked an arm around her throat, dragging her into a backwards bend while he pried her fighting jaws apart and shoved a hard, latex penis gag deep, strapping it tight.  She groaned involuntarily as he leaned against the buckle, digging the gag deep and hard.  Her eyes flashed defiance and she began to fight him, but if she really meant to escape, she'd left it far too late!

Her struggles merely enraged him further, more determined to use any tactic to subdue this spiteful hellion.  She'd taunted his manhood while he was vulnerable, and now, she'd pay, in spades!

He grabbed her hair and jerked, hurling her to her knees with a squeal of pain.  He braided it quickly, then used the silken rope to wrench her back upright so fast she stumbled.  Tears sprang from her eyes and ran down her cheeks, but he didn't care.  He dragged her to the middle of the room, defeating her escape efforts with a grip on her hair til she stood, squirming and kicking, under a ring in the ceiling.  He knotted a cord around her silky hair, jerking it slip-proof tight, and threaded the free end through the ring.  Then he leaned on it and dragged her up on her toes, suspended moaning, from the burning pain in her scalp.  Her nipples were high and hard in her thin bra and a round wet spot at her crotch showed her arousal, yet her eyes flashed defiantly through her tears and she balanced on the toes of her left foot, kicking at him with the other.

He slapped her, hard.  The gag strap caught most of it, but the force of the blow rocked her head against the rope of her hair and reddened her cheek.  She squealed and stopped kicking.  He was sweating now, his cock testing his fly.  She wanted to kick, did she?

He found what he wanted, a three foot spreader bar of stainless steel.  He knelt behind her, capturing her flailing ankles and lashing them.  The steel spread her legs wide and her hips shifted painfully from side to side as she sought to balance on her parted feet.  He heard her gasp through her nose as her sways put more strain on her scalp, hurting her, but when he looked into her face, the disdainful defiance was still there.  He grinned.  He was going to enjoy this!

Paul stripped, baring the hard-muscled strength of his body and the long, rampant stiffness of his erection.  He stepped close and ripped off her bra, shredding her panties.  Her naked body was even more superb than he'd thought, breasts full and rich, love mound prominent and furred in silk, navel deep and pouting on her flat belly.  He gripped her breasts hard, squeezing deep while she thrashed and moaned in hurt.  He gripped her flaring hips and, without bothering to position himself for gentle entry, rammed into her cunt, jerking her forward to meet his thrust while her weight hung cruelly from her hair.

Pamela groaned deeply at the white pain in her scalp and the tearing friction of his brutal penetration, but she was far from beaten.  He had time for only two deep, plumbing strokes before she brought her feet up, deliberately hanging from her hair, and slammed the steel bar into his shins.  Paul gasped with pain and stood back, rubbing his bruised legs and growling curses.  The he straightened, glowering, while she stared back fearlessly.  He had to admit she was a gutsy broad, but he didn't mean to put up with that kind of shit!

He unlocked her wrists, her elbows still bound, and jerked her small hands in front of her.  She fought as well as she could, but he used a short rope to knot them in front of her belly, adding to the pain in her elbows and shoulders.  He planted a foot on the spreader and pushed hard, snapping her body taut between the painful anchor of her hair and his weight.  He shoved into her hot, wet cunt once more, just to show her he could, and went back to the closet.  He selected a four-lashed whip of knotted cord and saw her eyes widen as she turned her head painfully to watch him.  He gave her an opportunity to plead, but she just stared and his anger surged once more.  He stepped close behind her and shook out the whip.  He'd never struck a woman before, but tonight he was mad enough to do just that, and to do it brutally.

Rope lashes hissed and dug into her satiny ass, the knots digging deep.  Red lines sprang up, standing out against the smooth, flawless flesh.  Pamela shrieked and squealed, heaving against the rope on her hair even though it doubled and tripled her anguish.  He grinned, his cock throbbing with lust and power, and the whip snaked forward again, smashing the backs of her open thighs, glowing with red fingers of hurt, leaving lines of agony that rose quickly into pouting welts.  She bucked and squealed and he hit her again.  And again!  And again!

Paul was berserk with rage and frustration.  Rage at Pamela's taunting, at Jenny's desertion, at himself for not making her stay.  His rage became a need to inflict hurt and his corded muscles drove the whip with a vengeance.  He marked every inch of her ass, her legs, even her bound arms and sweating back.  He circled around, driving the singing ropes into her belly and the fronts of her hips, clawing as high as her ribs and as low as her knees.  The blows cracked like pistols and raised red ridges of stinging agony.  The hard knots nipped through her velvet skin in a dozen places, tiny dots of blood spotting her whipped flesh.  But evidence of his strength and her fragility only urged him on.  How dare she resist him?  How dare she?!

Finally his arm tired and he dropped the whip.  Pamela hung limp from her hair, swaying with the force of her sobs, cheeks thick with bitter tears.  Her magnificent flesh was streaked and dotted with pain, but when he pinched her nipples she hissed at him through her nose, showing her unconquered spirit.

Paul's lips closed in a straight, tight line.  If she wanted hard ball all the way, he'd oblige her, by God!  He stalked behinder her, eyeing the puffy welts with hungry eyes.  She thought he was an easy mark, did she?  How would she like a little back door action?

The spreader opened her legs helplessly wide as he took his position.  He gripped her hips, fingers digging deeply into her pelvis, thumbs opening her welted, defenseless ass wide.  She guessed what was coming and her moans held an edge of desperation, but he ignored them.  He meant to conquer this bitch once and for all.

Paul positioned himself, sliding the hot velvet head of his erection into her deep, mysterious crevice.  He probed til he found the trembling muscles of her ass hole, lubricated only with her sweat.  Then he dragged back on her hips and simultaneously stabbed forward, battering into her smallest opening against the frantic resistance of her muscles while she squealed through her nose in unmitigated pain.

He gasped at the tightness which gripped him, though it must have increased her pain, and he relished the noise of her anguish - but he meant to make her surrender fully.  He reached in front of her, taking a proud breast in either hand, the nipples scraping his palms.  Then he clenched his hands into brutal, white-knuckled fists.

Pamela screamed through her nose, the sound shockingly animal.  For one more second she resisted, then her ass muscles went suddenly lax while tears kissed his forearms like rain.  He thrust again and her muscles clenched, squeezing, submissively tight.  Paul threw his head back in laughter.  He slammed into her ass, releasing her breasts, and she met his thrust, humping backwards, squeezing and massaging him as he fucked the friction-burning dry hole of her ass.

Paul gasped in pleasure, picking up the pace, blurring in and out of her like lightning, slamming so hard her belly and breasts quivered like Jello and Pamela's moans and sobs of pain turned soft and desperate with submission and lust.  He felt strange tremors in her bowels, tremors he couldn't believe.  But they were there, and when he spouted his white seed, hot and deep into her intestines, Pamela convulsed and squealed, vibrating like a berserk machine as she torched into her fiery climax.  Paul writhed in ecstasy as her contortions drained the last white drop from him, and only then did he understand.

Pamela was completely sincere!  She wasn't trying to pick him up on the rebound for his money and position, she'd made a completely honest offer of herself on her own terms, and he'd proved he could meet them.

Paul's eyes were wide and bright with happiness as he unraveled the strange pattern of her thoughts and needs.  She was that strangest of creatures, a passionate, skilled woman who was also a submissive masochist.  She was willing to be mastered only by the strongest, most ruthless of men, and he'd proved he was one of them.  He had established his right of possession in the only terms she could understand and accept.

He wrenched out of her ass and stepped back in front, cock already rising once more as the truth of the situation registered in his brain.  He studied her tear-streaked eyes, her mascara running dark and thick on her cheeks, and felt a strange tenderness that mingled with the need to use and abuse her further.  He opened her juicy pussy with his thumbs and hammered into her once more, and she met him eagerly, thrust for thrust, sobbing with hurt and the need to pleasure him as she dangled from her roped hair and her scalp crawled with tormenting pain.

Paul stared into her face while her velvet depths clasped and massaged his resurgent maleness, and suddenly he didn't feel so bad about Jenny after all.  Pamela was right.  He might have lost Jenny, but he'd found something even better, a woman who would live only for his touch, who would surrender herself to his demands as Jenny - prim, proper Jenny - never would have.  He gasped, plunging deeper and faster, eager to spend his strength in her, eager to wash her womb with his flow, eager to withdraw and begin again, fucking mouth while he pinched and kneaded her breasts or whipped her thighs with a riding crop.  Eager, in short, to explore the full, glorious depths of the surrender shining in her brilliant, blue eyes through the haze of tears.

And he knew that whatever happened he would never lose Pamela.  He would never release her, and he would be so harsh and demanding, and sometimes so gentle and considerate, that she would never want to leave him as Jenny had.  In time, he might even marry her and share his money with her, now that he knew the truth.

He tensed and gasped as fresh ecstasy reclaimed him, draining his strength in a hot, white shower of liquid pleasure.  Oh, no - he'd never let her escape!  Not now that he'd won the right to possess her!

The End