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She looks at me with pathetic eyes, thinking I’ll withdraw the proxy cock. Oh! I will, I think to myself. But not now, not until I’m ready to replace it with something much better.
“Shall we see how deep this can go?” I ask her, as I push the cane handle deeper yet. She tries to be so brave, but I can see how it hurts. I know the feel of these things, there are places inside that literally want to burst. But oh! They’ll hold on, I know that for myself and I know that for this little waif too.
I leave her with the cane jerking around inside her ass, while I move on to something else. What’s better than the cane is in my hand. I grease the thing, the dildo, the large black 10” one, the one I know will make her shriek as it pries her wide open. I know that kind of vivid pain at Elizabeth’s hands. She’ll feel it now the way I did, when I was raped by the horrid thing offered me.
I remove the cane handle with a jerk that makes her flinch. Then lubricating her liberally, I press the cock head at her sphincter and shove.
“Gawd no!” she gasps.
I press harder until the round head forces its way inside.
“Please, Cassidy, no,” she whines.
I slap her face. “Don’t scream, don’t whine, you little brat. There’s plenty of lubricant to allow this to slide right in. The more you resist the worse it is, trust me on this, I know. Perhaps you could practice breathing deeply,” I suggest sarcastically. There are cruel things in my mind to say, though I’ll likely not say them. Instead, I’ll let these foul thoughts simply drive my revenge toward the goal.
I push the dildo deep, each half inch is successfully accommodated as I knew it would be. She stretches wider than even she believed she could. Her tiny gasps are hardly plaintive cries, the little nymph is such a trickster, who would know what really pains her and what is truly pleasure. I’m beyond being effected by her moods and squirms, if she were to scream at the top of her lungs, I’d do it still.
I watch as the dildo disappears inside her, until hardly anything is left of the long black rod. Then discarding the ribbons altogether, I secure the plug with a heavy leather belt around her waist and a thick chain through her cunt. I make certain the chain not only keeps the black rod inside, but that it presses harshly against her soft cunt, especially against her tender clit.
I watch her as she writhes uncomfortably. It’s a demanding feat, but how lovely it looks to see her anus wide for me. The dominant me, the one I’ve just met these strange weeks, feels decidedly satisfied with her bondage.
“I’ll let you get used to it before I fuck you,” I tell her.
Analise appears to shrink away from my look. She can hardly move, but if she could I imagine she’d be cowering against the far wall in tears. I care so little for her now, it scares me. I see how cruel I am, and I wonder to what lengths I’ll go to enforce her submission.
She stares at me nervously, wondering what I’ll do next.
“You think I’ll leave you here?” I ask. “Isn’t this just what you want, you practically begged for it two days ago. Better be careful what you wish for. Tell me, child, how does it feel?” I ask. “I need to know.”
She remains silent.
I slap her face. “Tell me,” I order her.
She whimpers lightly, trying to avoid my eyes.
“Look at me,” I order. I have her chin in my hand, so she can’t move. “Shall I tie your head down to the stone?” I suggest.
“No, please no,” she begs, no doubt thinking this is a serious consideration in my thoughts.
“Then tell me, Analise, how does this feel?” I demand of her, while keeping a firm grip on her thin white chin.
“I have to be here,” she says, stumbling over her words. “I’ve been bad, very bad. This is the punishment I deserve.”
“Good. I’m glad you feel so obedient, you won’t mind then if I leave you here for awhile, so you can appreciate your suffering.”
I leave the one light burning, the bare bulb, and I douse the torch. From the entrance to the chapel, it’s hard to see her where she lies on the stone table. I see her struggle against the bonds without success. I see her ass rise and fall with the weight of the prick difficult to bear. I watch as she finally ends her struggles, as she should, and rests limply against the gray/black table. Inspired imaginings dart about my mind happily, knowing exactly what I plan to do to torture her more.
If she’s rescued before I return to her, that would please me too, the part of me that couldn’t care less about seeing her again.
Returning upstairs, I glimpse Miriam in the hallway, and follow her until I’m close enough to call her name.
She turns to me. Such an odd expression on her face, I think.
“You must be in the midst of things,” she says to me.
“Why do you say that?” I ask.
“The dark lore,” she says. “You’re all lit with smoke.”
