The Prisoner - Prologue

by Arty

He preferred to see her eyes, but she wanted the blindness and so he acquiesced, wanting to make this occasion memorable for her. The black ribbon was a symbol of his wish that she keep her eyes closed. She liked the feeling of submission; she liked the feelings that the ribbon awoke in her.

He liked to see the terror in their eyes when they realised whom he was and what was going to happen to them. Sometimes they tried to escape, but their abject terror made them clumsy and merely delayed the inevitable. Oh yes! He loved to hear them scream and cry and beg, especially the begging.

Carefully he undressed her, kissing each newly revealed patch of skin, sometimes licking her, sometimes nipping gently. Eventually she was naked and he led her towards their bed, where the bonds that were to hold her helpless, were laid out. Still graceful despite her blindness she lay back and stretched out her arms and legs complicit in the gradual restriction of her liberty; she craved the restraint. Now she was helpless and she tugged futilely at each of the bonds as if to check that she was indeed his to toy with. She moaned in satisfaction, when the implacable leather refused to give when she pulled at it.

She writhed gently; her limbs were stretched and tied to the four corners of the bed. Blindly she quested for his presence, her senses were heightened by the black ribbon that kept her eyes closed. Deep within she knew that her bonds were just for show; that by uttering just one word he would release her, but until then she was defenceless and she relished the sense of abandonment that this gave her.

Oh yes he loved the begging; the pleading as he attached them to the makeshift, but oh so effective, crucifix; the offers, the imprecations. But of course he never gave in, never partook and once they were attached, they rarely had breath for much when the realised the full horror of what crucifixion meant. Of course the Romans were the true masters of this, he'd like to have used nails, but his first one had bled to death instead of suffocated, so now he contented himself with just tying them. Still it worked well enough.

Feather-light she felt a touch and she moaned at the sudden stimulation. The sudden sting of a strap caused her to cry out. A kiss quieted the slight pain and she sighed. And so it continued, a caress, a kiss, a sting, each at random times and she never knew where or what she would feel next. Slowly and carefully he excited her and noted the small betrayals that, Judas-like, announced her arousal.

She was lost. Desperate now for release, her breath came quickly, but her marathon was only half over. Her breasts were flushed and full. A slight sheen of perspiration glistened in the light of the many candles. Each drop refracting meant that from certain angles she was covered in stars. He loved it when she was like this, carefully and quietly he undressed and positioned himself. She was tense now, expectant; her pleasure was dammed and waiting for just one more touch to overflow and engulf her.

Now it was time for a little scourging. They usually screamed well enough, as long as he didn't leave it too long. This one had been strong and managed to support herself even with her legs cruelly doubled up and tied as they were, the whip had left red welts and she screamed loudly. Perhaps too loudly, but that was a regret for later. She was quieter now, concentrating on conserving her strength for breathing. It didn't matter they all died in the end.

He entered her in a single, smooth thrust, and, as he reached maximum penetration, he was careful to grind himself against her engorged clitoris. It was enough. She screamed and came, her release was tumultuous and he continued to thrust into her in a successful effort to prolong her orgasm. Finally she relaxed and he stopped thrusting. He slipped the blindfold off her head, she blinked owl-like, even the dim light of the candles was bright after so long sightless.

"You bastard! What the hell did you do to me? And when can you do it again?"

The lustful smile removed the sting from the harsh words.

"Later. It's my turn now."

With more abandon now, his thrusting demanded payment for the labour of love that he had just performed. She loved this too, as he took this opportunity to use her without regard for her pleasure. She enjoyed the helpless feelings that this treatment aroused within her. She loved the selfish passion that she could see in his eyes. And she cheated him as she came again just as he poured himself into her.

And now it was time for the final ritual. Rolling a condom onto his carved wooden phallus, he positioned it at the entrance to her fuckhole. Pushing hard he roughly impaled her with it. She groaned in despair as this parody of fucking began to turn her on. Oh yes he loved it when they couldn't help themselves. He noted the excess lubrication and the whiteness of the sperm mixed in. Oh this was too rich! He wondered who had fucked her last. He'd never know. She screamed her release. Oh yeah he loved that almost as much as the terror!

Knowing what she liked he remained within her and carefully reached up and pulled the cords at each wrist that releasd her. With her arms free she clasped him to her and allowed herself to cry.

"Oh God Alan! That was just..."

She was lost for words.

"If it gets any better than this I'm going to die from pleasure."

"Yeah, but what a way to go."

He kissed away her tears. Then he looked deep into her eyes and when he was satisfied with what he saw there he reached under the pillows and withdrew a small box.

"Catherine. Will you marry me?"

Her eyes widened in shock, but he noted that her pupils had dilated until her irises had almost disappeared.

"Yes of course I will." She laughed, doing delightful things to his embedded penis. "You rat-bag! What am I going to say when they ask me how you proposed?"

Now it was time to leave. He placed the plastic bag over her head and tied off the loose ends around her neck. This was just to help things along he wanted each breath to be as much of a struggle as possible, too bad he couldn't stay to watch, but he had a job to do and the people who he worked for were almost as bad as he was. As he left he noticed the engagement ring, it looked almost new, he slipped it off her finger as a memento. Oh yeah, this had been one of the best.

"Oh you remembered!"

She had looked more closely at the ring, now that they had moved from the bedroom. A single pale emerald, surrounded by tiny, brilliant-cut diamonds, sparkled on the third finger of her left hand. She grabbed him and smothered him in happy kisses.

"We're going to be so happy!"

Of course the job had gone pear-shaped and he'd ended up here, but he remembered the girl and the ring, he remembered the ring, it wasn't often you saw an emerald in an engagement ring, people considered emerald unlucky - it sure was for her. Oh yeah!

Two men stirred restlessly as they dreamed about the last night they spent with a woman.

-Fin-