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“Should I be?” My tone was a bit defiant and she didn’t like that either.
“Maybe I should march you in front of the brutes next door and let them have at your ass.”
Maybe you should, I barked at her silently, although I shuddered from the embarrassment that would bring me, and shuddered even more with the thrill I might give those men.
“You never told me she was a pain slut,” she told Preston.
“I don’t think she is,” I heard him reply.
Because he was standing directly behind me, I couldn’t see him from where I hung between the framing 2x4s. But I could sense his presence, the fierceness of his being, and the irrevocable connection between us. Even Susan couldn’t sever that.
“Not a pain slut, and still not a whimper?”
“Keep going, the day’s not done,” he told her.
“Of course, it’s not.”
She leveled me then with a series of quick repeated smacks to my ass, all in one tender spot and so many that I thought she’d never let up. Then she moved her aim from side to side, targeting one cheek and then the other, but hardly missing a beat. I struggled hard to maintain my silence but it was crumbling away with no relief at all. Unwittingly, I began to moan my distress, something Susan didn’t seem to realize right off, but then, even while I tried to stuff it in again, there was enough anguish surfacing, enough plaintive garbled sound for her to finally realize how much I hurt.
She was like a demon after that, pinching my labia between her fingernails, so hard I was gasping audibly again. “Can’t take it, can you?”
“Yes, I can,” I maintained despite what I knew was true.
She liked defiance, and the fact that she would prove me wrong. She resumed her torture, digging her nails into my other labia. I held on then, but when she began to pinch my clitoris outright, what little of me could move and shake, tried to shake her off. I attempted vainly to let the pain arouse me, as it had many times. But this was beyond my level of tolerance.
“Ahhh… please!” I finally heard myself cry.
“Please what?”
“Please!” I screwed up my face in a pained grimace.
“Please what? Answer me, bitch!” she yanked my hair back and nailed my clit with the other hand in the same instant.
“Yeeeeeeeeaaaaaauch! Stop, please. I can’t take anymore.”
She let up only reluctantly. I could feel her fighting to continue. Later, much later, I would suspect that there was some unspoken agreement between Susan and Preston that prevented her from going further. That saved me. I would have been screaming in my loudest voice unable to stop myself if she’d gone on much longer.
Susan gathered my sex juice from my cunt and presented it to my mouth. “Lick it, bitch.” There was a weird gleam in her greenish eyes, the glitter of the sadistic mad woman that lurked behind her polished exterior.
Between the sound of Susan striking me and my internal screaming—just as the pain was the worst—I thought I heard creaking sounds like was someone coming up the stairs. I didn’t dare look behind me; the thought of having a bigger audience was too much for my overloaded senses. But once Susan’s viciousness had its say, as her vengeance was satisfied, I became aware that there were others in the half-made room, two construction workers—big brawny fellows—with their eyes glued to the sight of me bound, strung up, ass out, tits sporting nipples fired by their recent onslaught.
“Nice ass, huh?” Susan mocked me to the voyeuring men. “If one of you will yank that string hanging from her ass, while the other one finger-fucks her cunt, I’ll bet she’ll come.”
I didn’t try to see the snicker on her face, I knew it was there just hearing the tone of her voice. I heard retreating footsteps as her high heels hit each stair on her way down to the first floor. I guess she’d had enough of me. I’d certainly had enough of her.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have much time to let my thoughts linger or my body rest. I felt one hand at my cunt and another on my ass, tugging at the end of the string. The man at my side began to fuck my pussy with his hand, and soon the other one gave the beads a healthy yank.
As the first bead exited my ass, my body exploded in orgasm. Then as each of the next beads were yanked free, sharp pains rocked my insides with more spasmodic waves of climax.
“No! No! No more!” I cried out from the senseless oblivion that followed. I couldn’t take any more… not that fast. But the men ignored my pleas. The one behind kept jerking the string, while the one at my cunt continued fucking me with his hand. I rocked back and forth and from side to side in my spider web prison, weeping softly as the next bead was painfully jerked away and the climactic sensations were revived. When the last bead popped free, I nearly passed out.
“Damn, what a slut!” I heard one of the men say. I didn’t want to open my eyes; my embarrassment was that profound. “She a good fuck?”
I suppose he was asking Preston, and though I didn’t hear his reply, the answer was obvious. Moments later, a prick was stuffed in my rear and I had more reason to scream. I managed to contain myself, however. Knowing any sound might draw attention to the open window, I was sane enough to keep my agony to myself. The second man’s prick followed the first, and by then, I was oblivious to pleasure or pain, simply hanging on until the man had spent himself inside me.
I was spared the humiliation of having to face the two; they quickly disappeared down the stairs as I recovered my senses. I heard them leave the house, and then in the steamy quiet that followed, I waited for Preston to speak.
The silence made me quiver—even the noise from the other jobsites had tapered off, just a distant hammer or the quick squall of a saw. And then there was nothing—must have been lunchtime. I never did understand why the housing development had been vacant of workers when we first arrived—explained away by Preston as a temporary work stoppage—and then was suddenly busy with activity no more than a half hour later. I guess it really doesn’t matter if I have an explanation; part of surrender is accepting the situation for what it is.
