20:20 Traction

Brutality 1

She didn’t tell me much about the scenario. She never did. All I knew was that there was a married couple that wanted something the Gothic Girl’s friend was unwilling to provide. Her friend referred the couple to the Gothic Girl. I knew that it was going to be an event as all of the “pets” were to be in attendance.

The four of us rode in a car out to a shopping center in a suburb of the city. Robert drove, the Gothic Girl sat in the passenger seat. I sat in the back with Evelyn. The two of us were forming an unspoken bond borne out of the pleasure and pain that we had inflicted on each other.

Robert pulled up alongside a beat up white Chevy Caprice. Four young black men sat slouched in the car. Smoke drifted from the windows. I had known these types of characters all of my life. They were dangerous. The Gothic Girl got out of the car along with the man who rode shotgun in the Caprice. He was dark-skinned, bald-headed and wore an over-sized white t-shirt. The two of them walked a short distance away from the car, then stopped and faced each other. My heart pounded in my chest. The Gothic Girl had a habit of putting me in positions that brought on that reaction. The presence of the thugs made it pound harder. It wasn’t the thugs that frightened me. It was their relation to the Gothic Girl and whatever their role would be in the events of the evening.

I hoped the couple had requested some sort of drug and this was one of the Gothic Girl’s connections. But I had an ominous sense that wouldn’t be the case. The Gothic Girl and the roughneck stood a few feet apart. The Gothic Girl appeared to be doing all the talking, emphasizing points with a finger that occasionally pointed to ground. I knew that it wasn’t about drugs. I wondered if the couple had any idea what kind of person the Pro-Domme had referred them to. I wondered if the couple had done something to piss the Pro-Domme off. If so, it must have been pretty bad. The scenario was filling itself in. A mixture of fear, dread and excitement rose within me.

The Gothic Girl returned to the car. She said, “Let’s go.” We pulled off and I braved a question, “Who are your friends?”

She replied, “Those are friends of The Great Sathanas.”

“Are they going to be there tonight?”

“I thought it was white women that are supposed to clutch their purses at the sight of young black men, not other black men.”

“How come your friend doesn’t want to do what this couple is asking for? I mean, she gets paid for it, right?”

The Gothic Girl turned in her seat to look at me. She replied: “My friend is a sensible businesswoman,. This sort of thing is too high-risk for her. It violates her ethics and is beyond her capabilities. You’re a smart man Clarence. And I know that you have experience with dangerous people and dangerous situations. I’m guessing that your excitement and fear has disabled your judgment. Because you know this isn’t the time, or place, to be asking a bunch of fucking questions.”

My face felt like it was going to burst into flames.

She whispered, “Look at me.”

I turned my head and looked her in the eyes.

She said, “You thought you were a dead man that night at the party. But it didn’t happen like that. That was my choice. I chose to allow you to be a witness to pain and suffering rather than being a victim of it. You are not tied up back there Clarence. I am not holding you prisoner. You are here because you want to be and this is who you are. You are in love with me Clarence. You are in love with my power, my freedom, my cruelty and my mercy. You are in love with the love I have shown you, the way I have enlightened you as to the true nature of your soul, the power I have given you, the pleasures I have shown you, the burdens and responsibilities that I have lifted from you.”

My thoughts and emotions ran together into an incomprehensible soup.

She looked me in the eyes and said, “I love you Clarence.”

I replied, “I love you too.”

She turned back around in her seat and handed Robert a piece of paper. She said, “That’s the address. The garage door will be open. Pull straight into the garage.”

Evelyn nudged my shoulder, pulled a monstrous black strap-on dildo from under her seat and flicked her tongue at me.

We pulled into the garage. The Gothic Girl turned and flung her arm over the back of the seat. She held a large revolver in her hand. She said, “Here it is. We walk in that door. I go first. The husband will be sitting in a recliner by the door. I’ll put this to his head and force him to the floor. Clarence,” Evelyn handed me two sets of handcuffs, “you cuff his hands behind his back. Then you and Evelyn will go upstairs, second door on the right, cuff the wife and bring her downstairs.” Evelyn pulled a small pistol from her jacket.

The Gothic Girl continued: “Robert, you stay in the car and wait for our friends. Shut the garage door behind them and keep them up here until I send for you. Does everyone know what you’re supposed to do?”

We all said, “Yes” like a bunch of school kids answering their teacher in unison.

I walked in behind the Gothic Girl. She put the gun to the man’s head and ordered him to the floor. She told him to put his hands behind his back. He complied without protest. I cuffed him, then I followed Evelyn up the stairs. We walked in on the wife as she sat at a vanity table brushing her hair. She gazed at our reflection in the mirror without shock or the slightest hint of surprise. She was an attractive, voluptuous woman who appeared to be in her 30’s. She had dirty blonde hair. She wore only a white silk slip that came up to the middle of her thighs. Evelyn walked over to her, put the gun to her head and ordered her to the floor. I cuffed her hands behind her back, stopping to admire her well-shaped ass sheathed in a thin layer of silk.

We brought the woman downstairs. The Gothic Girl had the husband standing up. He was your average middle-aged white suburbanite; brown hair with a touch of grey, pale skin, glasses and few extra pounds. He watched us walk his wife down the stairs with a look of confident amusement.

The Gothic Girl said solemnly, “We’re taking them down to the basement.”

The couple’s basement was set-up for rough play. There were two chains hanging from the ceiling with wrist-restraints attached. There was a table on one side of the room with wrists and ankle restraints. There was another table on the other side with an assortment of instruments laid out on it. A video camera sat on a tripod.

The husband looked at the Gothic Girl skeptically and said, “You’re not what I expected.”

The Gothic Girl replied with a knee to his balls that brought him to his knees. She walked over, picked up the tripod by its legs and smashed the camera against the floor. She then turned to Evelyn and commanded, “Put the wife on her knees. Then get those ball-gags and shut them up.”

The wife shouted, “What the fuck did you break our camera for? Hank, I thought you said…”

The wife was silenced by a shock from Evelyn’s stun-gun. She fell straight to the floor. The husband’s eyes widened. Evelyn put the stun-gun back in the pocket of her long black coat. Then she got the ball-gags and fastened them on the husband and the semi-conscious wife. The Gothic Girl walked around the room in silent contemplation. She walked over to the table with the instruments, picked up a tickler and threw it back on the table.

The Gothic Girl turned to the husband and said, “That was very kind of you to have all this laid out for me. But I don’t see any Crayola color crayons. Did you forget the Crayolas Hank?”

The husband wrinkled his brow bewildered. She added, “I don’t need a box of color crayons just like I don’t need this shit right here.” She flipped the table over flinging its contents across the floor. She pulled a long pair of scissors from her coat, handed them to me and said, “Cut the husband’s clothes off. Evelyn will help if you need it.”

The wife regained consciousness and tried to rise to her feet. The Gothic Girl grabbed her by the hair and dragged her to the chains hanging from the ceiling in the center of the room. She looked at Evelyn and ordered, “Grab that chair, get up there and unfasten that chain from the ceiling. Take the wrist restraints off both chains. Fasten one end of this chain to that one, then clasp it on the chain of her cuffs.”

The husband stared with wide eyes. His face was a few shades paler than it was when I first saw him. After Evelyn completed her task, the Gothic Girl disappeared up the stairs. As I cut off the husband’s clothes, I could hear her rummaging through the house, dumping drawers and slamming cupboards. The husband and wife both stared at the ceiling.

A tool box came clanging down the stairs. It bust open at the bottom spilling screwdrivers and wrenches across the floor. Other items followed. A salt container with the umbrella girl on it, a rolling pin, a meat mallet, a box of nails, a plunger, bottled water containers and other miscellaneous items followed by a shower of belts and extension cords landing at the bottom of the stairs.

Evelyn circled the room like a lioness. She removed her coat revealing a black leather corset and a long black skirt. She unzipped the skirt in the back and let it fall to her ankles. She wore tight leather “daisy duke” style shorts and leather boots that laced up to her knees. Her long slender legs rose from the boots to her perfect hips and ass. She set her coat on the bondage table, pulled the huge black strap-on from it, held it up for all to admire and placed it on the table.

Evelyn walked over to the wife and slapped her across the face so hard it rocked her head. The sound of the slap was so loud and sharp that, at first, I thought her little pistol had gone off.

The Gothic Girl appeared at the bottom of the stairs. She signaled to Evelyn and raised her arms. Evelyn promptly walked over and removed her jacket. The Gothic Girl was dressed simple. She wore a long black skirt that went down past her knees, overlapping her knee-high black boots. She wore a black t-shirt. A long gold chain with skull pendant adorned her chest. She gathered her long, black hair and twisted it in a bun. While she held her hair in place with one hand, she pulled a hair-clasp from the waist-band of her skirt with the other. She pulled two long sharp, shiny hairpins from a pocket in her skirt and slid them into her bun. They protruded from either side of her bun like the horns of a demon.

The Gothic Girl reached her hand out to her side. Evelyn pulled a pair of safety goggles from her jacket placed them in her hand. The Gothic Girl put the goggles on and reached her hand out again. Evelyn handed her a cheap white dust mask which the Gothic Girl placed over her nose and mouth. Then Evelyn handed her a pair of long black latex gloves. The Gothic Girl pulled the gloves on up to her elbows. She wouldn’t utter a word for the rest of the night. From then on she communicated only by pointing, signals and nods.

I had cut every article of clothing off the husband. The only the thing left was a gold chain around his neck. The Gothic Girl looked at me, pointed at the husband, then pointed to a spot on the floor, a few feet in front of his wife. I pulled the husband to his feet and led him to the designated spot. He got on his knees without being told.

The Gothic Girl grabbed four leather belts from the bottom of the stairs. She walked over to the husband and stood over him, looking down on him. She jerked the gold chain off his neck and slipped it into a pocket of her skirt. The wife looked on in shock.

The Gothic Girl held a belt out to her side. Evelyn walked over and grabbed it. She held out another one. I took it in my hand. The belt in my hand was wide and thick. The Gothic Girl bent her belts in half and brandished one in each hand. Evelyn and I halved our belts to match the Gothic Girl’s. The Gothic Girl struck the man across the chest with one belt and lashed him across the back with the other. The man tensed at the pain.

Evelyn brought her belt down hard across the man’s chest. I lashed him across the back. We took turns delivering blows, building a rhythm that steadily increased in tempo and ferocity. The sound of the whipping reminded me of a hard rainfall. The man tried to rise to his feet. I slammed the bottom of my foot into his back and pushed him to the floor.

The man was on his knees, my boot on his back, his face pressed against the floor as the blows continued to rain down on his arms, back, neck and head. I had to move my leg as half of Evelyn’s blows were striking me. When the man’s prone body was fully exposed again, the blows came down in a vicious frenzy. I looked at the wife. I saw a tear fall from her eye. When the lashing ceased, the man looked like a handcuffed, swollen, bleeding, crimson welt with hair.

Evelyn dropped her belt, walked over to the wife, lifted her slip and started playing with her clit and fingering her pussy. The wife closed her eyes and threw her head back. The Gothic Girl pointed at me, then at the man trembling on the floor. I understood the command. But I didn’t like it. However, refusing could have put me in a similar situation to the man on the floor.

I undid my belt, button and zipper. My pants fell to the floor with a clang. I pushed down my boxers and pointed at my hanging limp dick. I was trying to tell her that the man’s ass was not appealing to me. She hit Evelyn on the shoulder and pointed at my cock. Evelyn abruptly stopped what she was doing, walked over to me and dropped to her knees. She caressed my balls with a firm hand and took my limp dick in her mouth. She sucked it hard. It stiffened in her mouth. She sucked and stroked me until my cock was rock hard and throbbing. Then she rose to her feet, looked me in the eye and wiped off her mouth.

I dropped to my knees behind the man and shoved my cock in his ass. I fucked him hard. My hips slammed into his buttocks as I plunged my cock deep inside him. I saw Evelyn go to the table and put on the strap-on. She looked both menacing and ridiculous with the 12+ inch black dildo protruding from her groin. However, the sight of Evelyn in a strap-on added stiffness to my softening cock.

Evelyn walked over, tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Let me get some of that shit.” The Gothic Girl went to her jacket and pulled out her gun. Evelyn kneeled behind the man, spit a few times on the head of her dildo, then she pushed the monstrosity into his ass. I heard the man’s muffled scream.

The Gothic Girl kneeled in front of the man’s head and motioned for me to come over. She unfastened the ball gag and flung it aside. She grabbed a handful his hair, lifted his head, shoved the barrel of the gun in his mouth and cocked back the hammer. I knelt down beside the Gothic Girl.

Evelyn started shouting, “You like that don’t you, you little bitch. You like the way I fuck your ass.” She slapped his ass and pounded the full length of the dildo into him, over and over again.

The wife was crying and shaking her head. The Gothic Girl nodded at me, pulled the barrel of the gun out of the man’s mouth and held it to his head. I positioned myself in front of him. Evelyn slapped him hard on the ass and screamed, “Oh yeah, suck that dick. Suck all the shit off his dick you little fucking punk bitch,” as she pounded him in the ass even harder.

I put my cock up to the man’s lips. He took it in his mouth and sucked. Evelyn shouted, “Fuck his face. Fuck that bitches face while I fuck him in the ass. Choke him out. Make him gag on your cock.” I felt the Gothic Girl squeeze my shoulder. I pushed my cock all the way into the man’s throat and held it there. When I pulled my dick out of his mouth, he puked on the floor. The Gothic Girl grabbed the back of his head and shoved his face into the vomit. Then she handed me the pistol, rose to her feet and pulled Evelyn away from the man’s ass.

I put the gun to the man’s head and lifted it by the hair. Evelyn kneeled down beside me. She ran her fingertips up the length of the dildo and showed them to me. There was blood. Then the man screamed like a girl in a horror movie. The Gothic Girl was on her knees behind the man. From where I was at, it looked like she had her whole arm up his ass.

Evelyn silenced his scream by shoving the dildo in his mouth. She tried to force every inch of that dildo down his throat. She screamed out, “Suck that bitch, you little fucking slut. Suck this dick.” She managed to shove the dildo three-quarters of the way into the man’s mouth. She held it there. He wriggled around and his face turned blue. I thought she was going to choke him to death. When she pulled the dildo out of his mouth, he vomited all over it. Evelyn ran her hand up the length of the dildo and wiped the filth all over the man’s face.

The man just let out a steady “Aaahh!” I stood to see what the Gothic Girl was doing. She had her arm in his ass up to her elbow and was wriggling it around inside him. She pulled her arm out of his ass. There was a nasty sucking sound as her fist exited the man’s anus.

I looked at the wife. She wasn’t crying anymore. Her eyes were dim. She just stared at the ground. I could read on her face the feeling that filled her existence at that time, dread. She knew that her turn was coming and that she would get it a lot worse than the husband.

The Gothic Girl made a circular motion with her hand. Evelyn and I flipped the man over. He was face-up lying on his cuffed hands. His face was a mask of fear, horror, pain and shame. Evelyn started laughing and pointing at the man’s limp, shrunken dick. She looked at the wife and mocked, “That’s what he fucks you with? No wonder you don’t have any kids. Look at that little-dick bitch you call a husband. But don’t worry sweetie. You’re gonna get fucked by some real men tonight. I know you can’t wait to have every hole of your sexy body stretched by a long, thick cock.” The wife’s dimmed eyes widened and her brow wrinkled.

My attention shifted to the Gothic Girl. She was going through the tools scattered on the floor. She came up with a pair of vice-grips and a large Phillips screwdriver. Evelyn went silent as death. She looked at me, then down at the husband. Both of us were thinking the same thing, “He’s in for an unspeakable amount of pain.”

All eyes were on the Gothic Girl as she knelt between the man’s legs with her tools. She set the tools aside and began massaging the man’s dick and balls. My cock got hard at the sight of the Gothic Girl’s skill with her hands. As the man’s dick hardened, she caressed his balls, then spit on her glove and began sliding it up and down the length of the man’s cock. His eyes rolled back in his head and he moaned. When the man was fully erect, she picked up the screwdriver, spit on it, spread the saliva over the surface of the steel and inserted the screwdriver into the hole at the head of the man’s dick.

The Gothic Girl gripped the man’s hard cock with one hand and pushed screwdriver in with the other. She pushed it in about halfway, which was almost the full-length of his cock. She let go of the dick and screwdriver. It slapped against his stomach with a “Thwap!” The man yelled out “Fuck! Fuck! Fuuuuck!” She stood up, took a few steps back and tilted her head as she looked at her work. She reminded me of an artist contemplating his canvas, or a woman rearranging her living room, thinking about where she wants to put the chair.

She pulled a length of thread from her skirt and kneeled between the man’s legs. I couldn’t see what she was doing. I could just see that her hands were busy. When she stood up again, the man’s genitals looked like some sort of an abomination. The thread was wrapped tight around his cock and balls at the base. His genitals were turning blue from the lack of circulation. And then there was the screwdriver stuffed in his cock.

The Gothic Girl knelt between the man’s legs again, picked up the vice-grips, adjusted them and clamped them across the head of the man’s cock. The man screamed. She pulled one of the shiny steel hair-pins from her bun and slowly pierced one of the man’s purple testicles with it. The man screamed louder. She pulled the other hair-pin from her hair and pierced the man’s other testicle. She stood up to admire her work.

The screaming man writhed around on the floor. His genitals tightly bound and turning a darker shade of purple, a screwdriver protruding from his cock and two hairpins sticking out of his balls. The whole contraption shook as the man writhed around. Then the Gothic Girl lifted her boot and stomped on the man’s tortured genitals. The man looked like he was being electrocuted. His whole body tensed and shook. His eyes rolled back, he foamed at the mouth; he lost consciousness.

The Gothic Girl pointed at Evelyn, then at the ceiling. Evelyn disappeared up the stairs. When the wife saw the goggles and white mask turn their attention toward her, tears began to flow from her eyes and she shook her head.

Heavy footsteps could be heard upstairs. The wife’s expression changed to an even deeper shade of serious as she looked up at the ceiling. There were loud voices and laughing; it sounded like a herd of cattle were descending the stairs…

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#Transmission
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40 40 Sensuous Cindy 808

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