Melissa didn't understand how Angel could let herself be abused by a man like Preston. It sickened her. Hadn't slavery had been outlawed long ago?
Angel returned with ropes and a red ball with leather straps. Preston took the ball from her and turned to Melissa.
Melissa recoiled in fear. She was not going to allow him to put that on her. “No!” she screamed and kicked, catching him in the stomach. He doubled over in pain.
She screamed again as Angel jumped on her, pounding. “You bitch! You fucking bitch!” Melissa was defenseless. She bucked her hips, trying to shake Angel off and felt rope being wrapped around her ankles immobilizing her feet. It was Preston.
Angel got off her and took the ball-gag. “Open your mouth!'
Melissa shook her head defiantly.
“You're in enough trouble, cunt. I wouldn't make it worse if I were you.'
She glared at Angel and clamped her mouth shut. She saw Angel suppress a grin as she reached toward her breasts again. She gasped as Angel pinched and twisted her nipple. “Oww-mmmpppfff!” she cried as Angel shoved the ball roughly past her lips. The strap was quickly buckled tight.
Angel stepped back as Preston forced Melissa to her knees under a horseshoe shaped frame. The helpless woman moaned as she felt rope circling her elbows. She knew what was coming next, having seen him bind the blonde's elbows.
Her moan grew to a loud whine as he used all his strength to pull her elbows together. Melissa felt as if her arms were being ripped from their sockets. She felt him remove the handcuffs and rebind her wrists with rope, leaving her hands encased in duct tape.
She heard a switchblade open and he held it up for her to see. The ball-gag muffled her scream as he came at her with the knife.
CHAPTER 7
Melissa struggled violently against the panic that gripped her like a vice. She couldn't breathe. She didn't want to die! Preston grabbed a fistful of hair, holding her head still. The knife glinted in front of her face.
“Shut up and quite wiggling, you stupid slut!” he shouted. “I'm not gonna kill you.” He released her with a rough shove, then leaned down and carefully slid the sharp blade under the sleeve of her blouse. He worked the knife along her arm, cutting the soft turquoise material as he went.
After the blouse fell to the floor, he cut the straps of her bra, and it quickly joined the shredded blouse on the floor. Melissa knew her skirt would be next. He could have pulled it off, but he deliberately ripped it from her body. She knelt there, trembling, cruelly bound, with only her panties, pantyhose and shoes remaining.
He pulled her pantyhose down and slid them just past her hips, then stopped. She felt the metallic cold knife blade against her hip as he cut the thin waistband of her black, lacy panties. The material fell from her waist, but the panties were still intact between her tightly bound legs.
Her captor stood in front of her, grinning wickedly. He grabbed the front of her panties and began to pull them slowly. Melissa moaned as the fabric slipped between her thighs, teasing her most intimate place. By the time he held what was left of her panties, she was wet with arousal and flushed with shame.
Preston scrunched the panties in his hand. She knew he could feel and smell her juices on them. He leaned down, cupped her chin in his hand and smiled at her. “It doesn't take much to get you started, does it, whore?” Vainly, she denied it through her gag. “Well,” he continued, “you'll just have to be frustrated. Right now, it's time you learned a little respect.'
With that, he pulled her pantyhose back up. Why was he leaving her in just her shoes and pantyhose? He leered at her and answered as if he'd read her mind. “Because I like the way it looks.'
He took a leather strap and slipped it around her chest, threading it under her arms and buckled it loosely. He turned to a small crank at the wall, and lowered a chain from the ceiling. After attaching the chain to the strap, he turned the crank and reeled the chain back up until it tugged at the strap, forcing Melissa to an upright kneeling position. She wondered if this was some elaborate way of getting her to stand up, but he stopped just as her knees were about to lift off the floor.
She watched him grab another length of rope and go behind her. As he grabbed her ankles, she remembered Angel saying something about a “kneeling hogtie.” Melissa didn't know what she meant at the time, but was beginning to understand. Soon, her ankles were tied tightly to the ropes binding her elbows, and when Preston stood back, she was left balanced on her knees. The strap around her chest held her up and took much of the weight off her knees, but she was still uncomfortable.
Melissa knew it would become torturous if they left her in this position. She also realized it would do her no good to plead, so she hung her head and tried to get as comfortable as she could.
Preston must have noticed her relaxing and chuckled. “You think we're done with you? This was just to get you ready. Now we get to the actual attitude therapy.” Melissa couldn't believe what she heard. Wasn't this torture enough? What more could they possibly do to her? She stared in disbelief as Preston motioned to Angel. “Bring the twine,” he said.
Angel returned with a large ball of rough twine. She grinned at the bound brunette. “Master says I get to do this part,” she cooed happily. She leaned down and pulled a length of twine around Melissa's chest, threading it under her arms. She made several passes, wrapping the thin cord above and below her breasts, then crisscrossing it between them, to form a harness around her chest.
The twine didn't seem to accomplish anything and Melissa wondered why Angel had tied it that way. Her question was immediately answered when Angel took more twine, tied it to the harness, and began to circle her left breast with it. She wound the cord carefully, trying not to overlap, keeping the tension very tight.
Preston cleared his throat ominously. “Not too tight, Angel. We don't want them to fall off, you know.'
Reluctantly, Angel released some of the tension in the string, and resumed wrapping the breast. Soon, half of it was encased in a sturdy cylinder of twine. The fleshy top of her breast seemed to explode out of the cylinder. To Melissa, it looked absurd.
Angel reversed direction, winding the twine back toward Melissa's chest. She passed it under the harness again, and then over to her right breast, where she repeated the process. By the time she was done, Melissa's breasts looked like odd mushrooms, with twine stems and ruddy tips or flesh.
Preston dug his fingers into both breasts, smiling. “Very well done, Angel.” The girl beamed proudly. He pulled down a small device attached to the horseshoe frame and set it directly in front of Melissa's right breast, adjusting some bolts in the frame.
Melissa stared at the device trying to ascertain its purpose. It looked like a small electric motor with a whip- like propeller. As she examined it she realized the propeller was really a small flogger with numerous leather strips emerging from the handle.
Preston flipped a switch and stepped back. The flogger began to turn very slowly, rotating in front of Melissa, parallel to her body. Again, the helpless captive wondered what the strange device was.
As the flogger/propeller neared the twelve o'clock position, it abruptly stopped and pivoted, so it was perpendicular to her body. The motor clicked on again, this time spinning the flogger with ferocious speed. From its new orientation, it slapped against the top of Melissa's cruelly bound breast.
She screamed in shock and pain, as the device whipped her breast five times, stopped, pivoted again and resumed its slow rotation. Melissa watched in horror as the insidious device moved along the curved frame, coming to rest in front of her left breast. It halted its slow rotation once more, this time with the flogger close to the nine o'clock position. It pivoted and the whipping motion started again, this time stopping after seven strokes.
Preston and Angel laughed merrily at Melissa's reaction to the automated breast flogger. Angel couldn't help gloating. “Master invented this for my punishment, but I don't mind letting you use tonight. Try to guess where it'll stop next, and how many strokes it'll give you,” she giggled. “You can't do it because it's completely random, but that's the fun.'
Fun? thought Melissa. Already the flogger had returned to her right breast, where it began whipping her again, this time four strokes from the bottom.
