The Kinkiest Girl in Town 2

Description

In this continuation of Vicky’s story, her urges are becoming stronger, and her dreams are filled with nothing other than being tied and helpless. For Tom, the man next door, helping Vicky fulfil her fantasies is a pleasure, even though sex with her is not an option; she made that completely clear. Her “adventures” with him are bondage and helplessness for her, with no sex, even though she is frequently naked and equally frequently aroused. Tom has a regular girlfriend and a wife, so it’s not too much of a problem for him. But Vicky’s ordeals are becoming steadily more intense and, often, with painful “punishment”. Can it continue? And where will it wind up?

Published Dec 2019   40,000 words

Chapter XVI: Asking for Trouble

One Friday, I settled down on my bed and began imagining new adventures we could try. Some were ridiculous, like flying over the city with me suspended by my ankles under a helicopter, naked, of course. As was the one about asking the police if we could borrow one of the jail cells overnight. And there was the one about the armored truck, but I won’t go into that.
It was beginning to look as if I had exhausted all the real possibilities when a different direction of our adventures occurred to me. The more I thought about it, the more reasonable it seemed. Certainly it would be less risky than walking me through the mall had been. And the more I thought about it, the hotter I became. It would hurt, but as I once said, sometimes you had to pay for your pleasure.
On Tuesday I explained it to Tom as soon as I got upstairs to his bedroom. I had stopped dashing next door in my birthday suit. Not so much because I was afraid of being seen, but because the weather was getting colder as winter approached. Even in California, it can get cold enough to chill a naked woman.
Tom looked at me critically and asked, “Are you sure about this? It’s more than we have done before.”
“Yes, I’m sure. It won’t hurt me. Well, it will hurt, but won’t do any harm. You know what I mean. And it will be terribly exciting.”
For a few moments I thought that Tom would refuse my simple request. He had told me one time that he once had a girlfriend who wanted more pain than he was comfortable giving. But I was sure that this was nothing like that.
“Very well. I’ll do it. But it will be real. You do understand that?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t want it any other way,” I assured him.
He sighed and reached for the ropes. Immediately I pulled off my shirt and was dropping my shorts. No underwear, of course. He turned me around and began binding my arms as I had requested. It was the same as he had used when he took me walking through the mall, a reverse prayer, he called it. My arms were pulled up behind my back, and the forearms bound together from wrist down to elbow. Then ropes were wrapped round my chest and pulled tightly so that my arms were crushed against my back. My breath was coming heavier as the ropes went on. And as I thought about what was to come.
Again, as per instructions, he added a very tightly applied crotch rope, one that cut mercilessly into the soft flesh between my legs. And pressed very hard against my clit.
I was glad that Tom understood my needs so very well. I didn’t have to tell him to make any of the ropes tighter. I doubted that he could have anyway. With my arms taken away from me, he fetched the makings of the gag we preferred to use. It was a washrag rolled up and shoved into my mouth, sealed in with duct tape wrapped tightly around my head. Absolutely no way I was going to be able to push that rag out. Or speak.
So bound and silenced, we went to the garage, Tom carrying several coils of rope in his hands. When we got there, I stood in the middle of the garage, under one of the rafters. Tom tossed one end of the longest piece of rope over the rafter and let it hang down on both sides. He helped me to sit down on my bare ass on the cold concrete floor. A rope was used to bind my ankles together. He then tied one end of the hanging rope to that. Before lifting me up, he tied my knees together. Not that doing so made my any more helpless. It was more for looks and how the bondage felt to me.
He pulled on the rope and I watched as my feet were lifted from the floor. They went up until my legs were straight, then more so that my bottom slid across the concrete. I was getting pretty hot as my ass came off the floor and rose up, followed by the rest of me. When I was completely suspended in the air by my ankles, he tied the end of the rope off to a cleat screwed into the wall.
My long hair was falling straight down and curling up on the floor under my head. I know I was panting from the sexual excitement this was creating within my body. I had been tied some pretty tight and restrictive ways but hanging by my ankles was somehow a stronger feeling of helplessness than the others.
Tom twisted me around once then let me twist back. He checked the ropes around my ankles and my arms. I don’t think he was worried about them not being secured. He was making sure that there were no problems with the circulation or anything else. I appreciated the way he looked after me. Really, I did.
Kneeling before my upside down face, he said, “You have one half hour to free yourself. Failure to do so will result in punishment.”
It was just for formality sake. We both knew that there was no way in Hell I could get out of those ropes. And we both knew what the punishment would be.
He left without another word, turning the light off as he went. I didn’t need it.
Of course, I went to working on the ropes, pulling and twisting and jerking around like a hooked fish at the end of a line. None of it gained me the slightest towards escaping. It was just part of the game. I had to try, if only to convince myself emotionally what I knew intellectually: I was truly helpless
Eventually I calmed down and simply hung there to await my fate. But my mind was running full speed, telling me that I was a fool to have begged for what was to come. The punishment would hurt – really hurt. But that was what I wanted to experience. Real pain added to absolute helplessness would be really, really intense.
Just as a test, I tried bending my body to see if I could make the crotch rope move a little bit. It worked a little bit. If I pumped my body, I could increase the pressure down there. Maybe even work my way up to an orgasm. I had done it before with a crotch rope.
But I backed off. Part of what I wanted to see was if a real punishment would drive me into an orgasm.
When Tom came in, I was hanging still and still helpless.
What a strange mix of expressions I saw in my inverted vision. He looked sad, yet anxious with anticipation. That made me happy. He would get something out of this, something that we hadn’t explored before. I was glad, even as I trembled a little when I saw the belt in his hands.
It was a simple man’s belt, made of leather and perhaps an inch and a half wide. He held it doubled over in one hand as he tapped the end against the side of his leg.
“You have failed,” he announced formally. I wanted to tell him that it was all right if he chortled with glee, but, of course, I couldn’t. Besides, my mouth was dry between the fear and that rag. “You will be punished.”
I tried to swallow. Now that the time was here, I was not so sure that this was a good idea. In fact, I probably would have backed out had I been able to talk. That was one of the reasons I had insisted on an effective gag. The other was so that any noises I made would be muted and not carry beyond the garage walls.
I had also told him to ignore any apparent attempts on my part to back out.
He could have had the decency to tell me when the first strike was coming, but he didn’t. It was a sudden burst of heat and pain in my ass. In shock, I screamed into the gag. I don’t know what came out, but my scream was real. That hurt beyond anything I had ever felt in my life. The blow left a burning patch on my bare skin. I think I jerked around again, just as I had done while testing the ropes. Only much wilder and more violently.
The second blow was more painful than the first. Rational thinking became hard as the pain washed over my mind, but I think that I wondered why the second was stronger than the first.
With each blow of the belt, I cried loudly into the gag and jerked wildly. I was trying to tell him that I had changed my mind and he should stop. Something like that. But my evil, self-destructive mind had forced me to tell him that he should carry out the full number of strokes I requested, no matter how I seemed to be reacting. Even if I seemed to want the punishment to end, he was not to allow that. I had insisted. He said that he understood.
As blow after blow burst onto my poor ass, I knew he really did understand. And that I would get the full twenty strokes, no matter how bruised and red my ass became.
I didn’t try to keep count. I knew that Tom would deliver exactly twenty, not one less nor one more.
At some point, my ass felt as if blowtorches had been put to it, and I was sobbing most sincerely. Only then did the punishment stop.
Kneeling before me, he began pulling the duct tape from my head. He was gentle but it still stuck in my hair and pulled. When he took the gag out, I was sobbing so violently that I could hardly speak. “That was terrible!” I managed to get out.
“It’s not over,” he said.
“I know,” I said. There was the final part of the punishment that I had ordered. I opened my mouth to accept his penis and show him how thankful I was.
I have given blowjobs while hanging upside down many times since then, and they always were more exciting than a normal one.