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===================

Thanks Mr Stryker for selling you'se books on bdsmbooks.com.
It was so easy for us to take it, like all the others we will soon be
putting up here, and share it with the world. Hope you'se doesn't mind
not making any money out of them any more.

"Ex-Wives 6 - Dawn's Demise"
by Richard Stryker

© Copyright R. Stryker 2006.

The right of R. Stryker to be identified as the author of this book has
been asserted in accordance with Section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights
and Patents Act 1988.


All rights reserved.

Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this
work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic mechanical or
other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography,
photocopying, and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval
system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination
of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the
same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any
individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure
invention.


Downloaded from www.bdsmbooks.com

Chapter 1


Dawn Hillman was in no position to defend herself. Hanging upside down
from the contraption with her hands barely touching the floor, she was
acutely aware in the darkness that engulfed her through the blindfold,
that her legs were spread wide apart and she was completely naked and
exposed. Then she felt something that rested menacingly between her
legs, right on top of her sex. Instinct told her the pain was about to
start again, but the gag in her mouth meant little sound would come
out.

***

It had been a grey, murky day and Dawn Hillman was looking forward to a
warm bath. Her day as a temp in the city office where she had been
placed by the agency had been boring to the extreme. The journey on the
London Underground back to her flat in Suburbia had been grimy and, as
usual, the carriage had been packed with seemingly countless other
sweaty, grimy bodies all intent on making their way out of the
metropolis as quickly as possible.
Dawn turned the key on the outside door and shut out the dank, evening
air, the thoughts of the bath already fully occupying her mind. She
could already feel the soft, luxurious bubbles as they pampered every
inch of her attractive body. She passed quickly through the communal
hallway and was half-way up the stairs to her flat before the door
downstairs opened.
"You got a visitor," the ageing woman called after her, but Dawn
was preoccupied with her thoughts and failed to hear the woman. The old
woman shut her own door and went back to the television that was
playing loudly in the background. As she went, she muttered to herself,
"so you won't be interested in knowing he's waiting for you
upstairs either. Bloody young un's never take us seriously."
Dawn turned the key in her own front door and slipped inside. She
popped on the hall light and headed straight for the bathroom. The taps
were soon running, filling the vessel with hot water. Steam began to
rise from the water and a misty condensate slowly edged its way over
the mirror on the wall. Dawn splashed some foam bath from a bottle
under the running tap and then went to her bedroom. She turned on the
radio, just loud enough to mask the sound from the television
downstairs. She undressed slowly.
Dawn Hillman had a good figure. She was only in her mid twenties and
was a tall girl at just under six feet. She had dark hair that flowed
down to her mid back. Her steel-blue eyes shone brightly. She had a
trim figure, firm from the weight training and other exercise she did
on a regular basis, and she had full, firm breasts, the kind men would
stare at for an uncomfortable length of time while on the train
journey. Dawn was, much to her friend's envy, an attractive young
woman.
She peeled off the white blouse and unhooked her bra, letting it fall
to the floor as her breasts sprang from behind the support into full
view. Dawn cuddled them playfully, in a good mood as she heard the bath
filling.
She slipped off her black trousers and the thin black thong beneath and
looked at herself in the bedroom mirror. She admired her figure for
several moments, idly caressing herself.
Dawn was single, very much so, but the new man in her life was caring
and affectionate, if not a bit of a prude. Her long term boyfriend and
fiancé was now off the scene, ever since he'd found her in bed with
one of his mates. Since then, she'd met a few men but none as
appealing as the current one.
When engaged only a few months back, she had been talking about house
hunting, even marriage, but then Dawn had strayed into the arms of
Adam. Now Michael, her fiancé, had taken exception to her dalliance
and had finished with her, leaving Dawn alone in her flat, alone and
labelled a slut, denounced by her former friends and left on her own to
wallow in the awful misdemeanour she had perpetrated. Adam had gone
too. Ashamed that he had been the not so innocent partner in the
misdemeanour, he had moved away, a long way away, so as to avoid
Michael's wrath.
Dawn had moved on. The ending of her engagement to Michael had been
nearly three months ago and this particular evening she was getting
ready to go out and tonight she had a desire for sex. Brad would be
waiting for her outside the cinema at eight o'clock. She'd met him
twice before, both platonic occasions,  civil meetings in a crowded
bar. She liked Brad. He was tall, muscular and friendly without being
over-bearing. On the occasion they had kissed, Dawn had closed in on
him, only to feel his rampant manhood pressing into her stomach, a
clear sign he was turned on by the way she looked and acted. Yet, there
was something in his demeanour, something he had said, that worried
Dawn, so she decided to keep her past deception and unfaithfulness a
secret - at least until she knew Brad a whole lot more and,
hopefully, he was hooked on her.
Looking back on her time  with Michael, Dawn had realised why she had
strayed - simply because she wasn't happy. Michael was a control
freak. He wanted everything his own way and he had stifled Dawn to the
extent that she had become little more than his poodle (with apologies
to the canine variety).  Michael had expected her to be there at his
beck and call, keeping house for him, doing the cooking, cleaning and
laundry, as well as attend to his carnal desires and keeping down a
full time job. Dawn frowned when she thought of the sex games Michael
had made her participate in. She'd hated them, they were not natural
- well, not to her. They had been times she had had to endure and
though she had told Michael she enjoyed them she was glad they were
over with now he had gone. For a moment, Dawn wondered if Brad would
ever want to participate in games of bondage and spanking and she hoped
he would not. She had  wanted more than a dominant, over-bearing tyrant
for a partner, so she had strayed. It had, she reflected, been a purely
deliberate act of betrayal but she had hardly expected Michael to react
with such force and to have been so forthright about the end of their
relationship.
"Sod him!" Dawn exclaimed with a degree of joy in her voice as she
stepped out of the bedroom, across the narrow hallway and into her
bathroom. The bath was full of foam and steaming water, just the way
she liked it.
For no good reason other than it was a habit, she closed the door. The
light from the hallway shone under the gap between door and floor, the
light out there being more powerful than the relatively dim light in
the bathroom.
Dawn stepped into the water and in a moment her body was covered in the
soapy bubbles. The sound of her radio in the bedroom mixed with that of
the television on the floor below but Dawn was not listening to either
of them. Under the foam she lazily began to rub her hands over her legs
and stomach, rubbing the bubbles into her skin. As she did so, she
began to look forward to the evening with Brad. Perhaps, she thought,
tonight would be a good time to invite him back in for coffee after the
movie and then see where things went. She wasn't afraid of inviting
him back. She was a fit, young woman who had some training in
self-defence and anyway, she knew where Brad lived and worked so he was
very unlikely to try anything on she didn't want. As her hands
caressed her silky, shaven legs, Dawn began to think she might want an
awful lot from Brad later on. It had been some time since she'd had a
really good fuck and she wanted one now.
She caressed her breasts and the desire increased as her nipples
stiffened under her soapy touch. Absent-mindedly one hand trailed down
her stomach, over the landing strip of public hair she had not shaven
off and found her slit. She was wet from the bath, of course, but Dawn
knew she was also wet from her own arousal. He middle finger sought out
and found her clitoris. She stroked it with her fingernail, something
that always created the most exquisite sensations of pleasure for her.
Dawn moaned softly as her masturbation became more intense, her finger
rubbing the now-hard bud of her clitoris, stimulating her in the way
she knew would soon bring her to orgasm.
She didn't hear the creak of the floorboard outside the bathroom
door. She continued to approach her climax, now arching her back and
lifting her breasts clear of the foam.  The handle on the door was
being depressed, first silently and then, as the handle neared the
point where the door would yield, there was a faint click. At that
moment the orgasm was lost as Dawn looked with horror at the door
handle that was almost at the bottom of its travel.


Chapter 2


Three months earlier, Michael Jopley sat on his own at the end of the
bar. He'd just found out the woman he adored had cheated on him.
Well, he'd found out because he had a key to her flat and earlier
that evening, after work, he'd picked up a bunch of roses and gone
round to the flat. He had planned the surprise for Dawn and had left
work over an hour early so as to spring his surprise. The flat seemed
unusually quiet when he let himself in with the latch key. The hall
light was on, it always was, but there was no television or radio to be
heard, except for the noise coming up from the flat below. Despite
that, the flat seemed unnervingly quiet. Then, as he passed the bedroom
door on the way to the kitchen, with the roses, Michael heard a noise
he was familiar with. It was the low, almost stifled, moan of a woman
approaching her climax - woman climaxing under a duvet or something
else that acted to stifle her sounds of pleasure. Not just any woman,
the sound was clearly Dawn's. Judging by the panting sound that went
with it, she was really close to the climactic release stage.
Dropping the roses on the floor and thinking she must be lying on the
bed playing with herself and unaware that Michael was in the flat, he
gently pressed the door handle down. Silently enough so as not to be
heard above the gasping, moaning groans of the young woman, the door
opened.
What Michael saw left him momentarily speechless. He could barely see
the naked, prostrate form of his fiancée as she lay face up on the
sheet, for on top of her, and definitely impaling her with his cock,
was Michael's long term best mate, Adam.
"What the fuck?" Shouted Michael as he took the naked couple by
surprise.
"Oh, Christ," Dawn muttered under her breath, the desire within her
departing instantaneously. "Michael, it's not what it seems," she
offered lamely as Adam withdrew his manhood from her soaking wet cunt.
"I think it is," said Michael in a raised but controlled voice.
"What else can it be. I left work early to get round here to surprise
you and what do I find? You're fucking my mate. Adam, if you know
what's good for you, you'll get your clothes together and get out
of here --- NOW!"
Michael clenched his fist in anger and Adam knew he had better move.
Rapidly picking up his clothes that were strewn over part of the
bedroom  floor, Adam hurried to the door.
"You be alright?" His anxious voice called over his shoulder to
Dawn who was also trying to get her clothes together.
"Yes," she said without much hope in her voice.
"Sure?" Adam called from the hallway.
"Yes, just go."
A moment later the front door closed and Adam stood naked at the top of
the stairs. With haste he dressed before padding down the stairs. He
could hear Michael's raised voice as he did so and wondered if the
deaf old hag in the downstairs flat could hear the rowing couple over
the din of her television.
"So, slut..."
"Michael, please, let me explain, and I'm not a slut!" Dawn
sounded less convincing than her protestation demanded.
"I said, so slut, and I was about to add, why did you do it? Go on
explain then. At least you owe me that."
"I don't know, it just sort of happened."
"It didn't just happen. You're supposed to be marrying me in
three months for Christ's sake."
"I know, and I do love you."
"Bollocks you love me."
"I do, Michael, I swear."
"Well, if I can't trust you now, I never will. I was going to take
you out this evening for a meal, but you've put paid to that. Think
I'll just go now." Michael was still clenching and releasing his
fist as if he was getting ready to punch something or someone.
"Perhaps it's best. When you've calmed down perhaps we can talk
about it."
"Don't try your luck, lady. When I said I was going, I meant for
good."
"You can't be serious! Please Michael, it was one stupid
mistake."
"One?" Michael snorted at her as his athletic frame towered over
the young, naked woman who sat on the edge of the bed, starting to sob.
"Well, more than one, yes. Okay, we've been seeing each other for
the last couple of months, but it was all going to stop. Honest. This
afternoon was going to be the last time. Ask Adam, if you don't
believe me."
"Oh, I will, if the little runt hasn't run off for good. I'll ask
him, while he's dangling by his ankles over the bank of the canal. As
I said, I can't trust you any more and I no longer care how many
times the greasy layabout's cock has filled your cunt. So far as
I'm concerned you lost us both tonight."
Michael turned and walked slowly out of the bedroom, leaving Dawn
sobbing on the edge of the bed.
"But don't think this is the end of the matter either, it
isn't." Michael shouted out as he opened the front door to the
flat. He slammed the door behind him, took the staircase three steps at
a time and slammed the outer door a few seconds later. As he strode
purposefully up the street, he vowed it would be the last time Dawn saw
him, or Adam. It would be the last she saw of him, but somehow he would
exact revenge on the unfaithful slut he had so nearly married. He found
a public house a couple of blocks down the road and took a stool at one
end of the bar.
Michael sat at the end of the bar with the glass of beer in his hand,
still hardly able to believe what had just happened. He sat and
pondered just how quickly his whole life had been turned upside down.
He sat there fully ten minutes, slowly sipping his beer, repeatedly
vowing to get revenge. He was about to leave when a voice he knew  from
his past approached from behind.
"Michael, you okay?"
"Greg, nice to see you. Here, take a seat and I'll get you a
drink."
"Thanks. Didn't know this was one of your haunts. Didn't think
you fitness guys sat on their own in pubs."
"I  don't usually. Excuse me, two pints of bitter please. So, Greg,
how's life treating you? It must be, what, a couple of years or so
since I last saw you. Thought you'd moved away when we lost touch."
"Steady, so many questions. To start with, yes I did move away. I
split up with Julia, you know, and then she took me for every penny I
had."
"Oh, sorry to hear that. Actually I just split up from my fiancée
but at least she won't be getting anything."
Greg's ears almost pricked up at the news but he continued.
"Yes, after the split I decided to get away for a bit. Ended up
travelling, got myself into shape and made a few friends. Unfortunately
my address book was one of the things dear Julia managed to burn the
night we broke up."
"Yeah, you look pretty fit, I have to say. Thanks," Michael added
as the pints were sat on the top of the bar. "Cheers," he said in
mock salute to Greg.
"Cheers." Greg took a sip and put the pint back down. "One thing
I determined after the divorce was she wouldn't get away with it."
"But you just said she got everything."
"Yeah, chattels and crap like that, but I decided she wasn't just
going to bask in it all - she was going to pay, and pay dearly."
"So what did you do?"
"First off, I got fit, physically and mentally."
"Yeah, and then what?"
"Then I got myself set up. I've got a farm house out in the
country, not too far away, but far enough. Then I decided I'd get
even with Julia by making her do all the sexual things she hated. If
she didn't know it was me then I could have a lot of fun with her.
I've got some friends who are into bondage..."
"Sounds interesting."
"It is. But these guys are into a lot more than simple ropes and
stuff, they do it for real. Their women have learned to like what these
guys do - and once I got involved in the group I quickly learned that
the women really get off on it. Anyway, the thought of making Julia do
things she would never have dreamed of appealed to me. So I started to
plan."
"Surely she was bound to recognise you?"
"That was something I had to overcome. I located a specialist shop
and in amongst the stuff they sold I found a mask with a voice
distorter."
"Sure that would help, but she was bound to actually recognise your
body."
"Maybe, so anyway I waited over a year till everything died down. I
got really fit and strong and my body shape changed from fat  blob to
what you see today."
"Impressive."
"Yeah. Anyway I kidnapped Julia (ED:  read Ex-Wives 1) and spent a
very pleasant weekend torturing her and making her do the things I knew
she'd hate. I also recorded it all for posterity and so I could make
the rest of her life miserable."
"And she never caught you out or reported you or anything?"
"Nope. She didn't dare report me as she knew I'd simply expose
her lies and send a few chosen home movies to the right people. She'd
be humiliated and lose her social life - which to Julia is very
important."
"I see. So you had your fun and now the threat of blackmail hangs
over her."
"Yeah, anyway it's gone on from there because I now do the same
thing for other blokes I know who want to get even. I also have a nice
little side line dealing with women who have habits they want to kick,
and they and I have a lot of fun with that."
"You mean, women actually want you to punish them?"
"Sure, if they think its going to solve their nasty habits. And, I
have to say, the sex isn't bad either."
"Okay, so say, for example, I wanted you to help me get even with my
ex fiancée, how would you do it?"
"That depends."
"On what?"
"On why and how you want to get even with her."
"Well, let's just say, an hour ago I walked into her flat with the
key I have, to find her in bed, fucking her brains out with my best
mate."
"You mean you split up an hour ago?"
"Yes."
"Well, in that case, go home and take a couple of days out. If you
still want me to help you, call me. You're not in a fit state of mind
to make those decisions now."
"I won't change my mind - evil little slut deserves everything
coming to her."
"Fair enough, but I don't do these things  lightly and I want you
to consider things in the cold light of day."
"Yeah, okay. You got a number I can ring?"
"Here's my card."
Greg handed Michael a small, white business card. On it was written:

Greg Dawson
Corrective Action Therapist

And his telephone number

"What's that - Corrective Action Therapist?" Asked Michael as
he took the card.
"What I do. I use therapy to correct people's, or should I say
women's, behavioural and habitual problems."
Dawson drained his pint glass and stood up.
"Look,  Michael, I have to go and I'm sorry about your problems
this evening. Sleep on it for a day or two and if you still want me
involved, then call me."
"Yeah okay," said Michael. "I should be off too. Got some
planning of my own to do."

Chapter 3


It was three days later when Michael phoned Dawson and they arranged to
meet at a country pub, secluded and with open land nearby where they
could walk.
"Hi Greg, thanks for coming." Michael was already in the car park
when Dawson pulled up. He walked over to Dawson as soon as he
recognised his car. "I still want you to get even with Dawn for
me."
"You're sure."
"Yes. I'm moving away from the area, I've decided, but I want her
to be taught a lesson she'll never forget."
"Okay. In which case, it's probably better if I wait until you've
left town. That way she's going to find it harder to catch up with
you when things do happen."
"Oh, she won't find me. I'm not staying in this country. I've
always wanted to go to the Southern Hemisphere and now's my
chance."
"Right, so what do you want me to do?"
"Teach the little slut that that's exactly what she is and make her
never, ever want to be unfaithful to anyone again."
"Right," said Dawson. "Now, I need some information. What's her
full name, where she lives, that sort of stuff."
"No problem. Got a pen?"
"Yes," said Dawson.
Half an hour later Dawson had all the information he wanted and he had
a key from Michael; the key to Dawn's flat.
"It's going to be obvious where this came from," said Dawson, so
what I'll do is make a copy and then you can send this one back to
her."
"Good idea.  Now, I'm planning to up sticks in about two months."
"No problem. I'll leave it three or four then, so you are well
clear."
The conversation wandered to other things now and the men shared
another pint before wandering down the side of the canal opposite the
pub.
Dawson smiled inwardly to himself. This was just the kind of adventure
he revelled in and the prospect of Michael being far away from England
appealed enormously to Dawson. As they walked along the canal bank,
Dawson kept on thinking about the picture of the gorgeous Dawn Hillman
that Michael had given him, a picture that nestled against his chest in
the inside pocket of his coat.
It was going to be three months of careful planning and observation. It
was going to be a mission that Dawson knew he'd have to plan just as
carefully as when he had got even with his own ex.

***

The next day Dawson began. He started by watching the flat where Dawn
Hillman lived. He was there early, securing one of the parking bays
across the road from the flat.
At that hour of the morning everything was quiet and Dawson waited
patiently until the young woman appeared on the doorstep. He followed
her on foot to the railway station and noted which direction she was
travelling in. There was nothing to be gained by following her to the
office he knew she worked in, for there would never be an opportunity
to remove her from society for whatever period of time he would require
to drive the message home.
Over the next few weeks, Dawson discovered Dawn Hillman was a creature
of habit. She went to work in the morning, came home again pretty much
at the same time every evening and then, on occasion she would go out
again a few hours later.
Within a matter of a week or so it became evident that Dawn was not
spending any time fretting over the loss of Michael. It started when
Dawson spotted her meeting someone new. First they met in a pub and
then a week later they met in a second pub. Then there was someone
different. Again it was the pubs and then Dawn met someone else.
After a month, Dawson took the key he'd had cut and let himself into
Dawn's flat while she was working. The flat downstairs was playing
music loudly and Dawson knew the woman was old. He'd seen her a few
times during his observations and guessed from the volume of the radio
that she was half-deaf.
Dawson slipped up the stairs quickly and was inside Dawn's flat in a
moment. He passed quickly through the rooms, checked the contents of
the various drawers and cupboards in the bedroom. He found nothing of
particular interest, no condoms, no pills, no vibrators or anything of
a sexual nature. Dawson quickly realised the flat would be wholly
unsuitable for his intentions. His problem then was how to get the
young woman out of the flat without being noticed. The road below was
busy during the day but quiet after the evening traffic had gone home.
The street was well lit and there was bound to be the odd,
unpredictable pedestrian to think about.
Dawson contemplated taking the woman while she was walking along the
streets but that seemed an almost impossible task. Then, as he reached
the lounge, he spotted the local paper. It lay open at what, Dawson
called, the lonely hearts column. Actually a list of supposedly single
people advertising for a relationship, Dawson noted that Dawn had drawn
a big blue ring with a ball-pen round two of the advertisers.
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he read the adverts and then passed
on without touching anything.
Half an hour later he was driving back to his farmhouse. The idea had
formed in his mind. It was preposterous but ingenious if he could pull
it off and, he surmised, if she didn't fall for it, he could think of
something else.

Chapter 4


The door handle was released slowly as the bathroom door opened.
"Brad! Thank God it's you, but how did you get in?" Dawn sounded
instantly relieved.
"The old girl let me in. Sorry, I sat down in the lounge and fell
asleep. Didn't wake up until I heard you singing away there."
"But, we're not meeting until later." Dawn had slid down into the
foam of the bath so as to try and cover up her delectable body.
"I know, but I wanted to surprise you. How about we take a drive out
into the country and I buy you dinner?"
"But the movie?"
"Another day. Only I got off work early and thought I'd surprise
you. Is that okay with you?" Brad sounded very confident - he was.
Brad had spent the best part of three months planning this particular
evening and now the trap was almost perfectly sprung.
"Yes fine. Look, I need to get out of this thing and get dressed. You
wouldn't mind going back into the lounge would you?"
"Sure. Look, sorry if I startled you, but I only just woke up."
Believability is important and Brad rubbed his right eyeball as if
rubbing away the sleep.
"That's okay, only next time you could try knocking. Actually, next
time you could wait outside until I get home - that would be best."
Dawn sounded a little cagey, which she was. She didn't know Brad that
well. They'd only met a few times and he'd come from an advert in
the local paper. To find him in the flat unannounced was, to Dawn, not
acceptable and Dawn knew she'd have to tell the old crone downstairs
not to let visitors into her flat again.
"Sure." Brad turned and left the bathroom. He smiled to himself as
he walked back to the lounge. Greg Dawson had nearly pulled it off. As
Brad he had created the perfect disguise. The woman knew little about
him, just enough to lead anyone looking into Brad Tanner down a blind
alley. Dawson waited in the lounge for ten minutes while he heard the
young woman dry herself and then select her dress for the evening.
She appeared in the lounge door dressed in a black, figure-hugging
dress and calf-length black boots.
"Where are we going?" She asked.
"It's a little restaurant I know called the Maison Rustique. I hope
you like French," said Dawson, maintaining his phoney accent.
"Yes, French is fine. My car or yours?"
"Mine, I think."
"I would offer you a drink first but..."
"I never drink on an empty stomach, and no more than two glasses when
I am driving anyway."
He was perfect, Dawn thought, though the intrusion in her flat seemed a
little out of character for him. Still he was a bit of a bumbler, as
she called them, so perhaps it was just something he did without
thinking.
Five minutes later they were sat in Dawson's car and driving out into
the country.
"You known this restaurant for long?"
"Yes, quite a few years actually," said Dawson.
"How far away is it?"
"Oh, just a short drive. Oh damn..." he said quite suddenly as he
pulled the car up.
"Think I've just picked up a puncture. Hold on a tick."
Dawson opened the door and went round to the back of the car pretending
to examine the offside wheel.
"Yes, a puncture. Have to change the wheel."
"Do you want a hand?" Dawn called back. The country road was quite
quiet and Dawson had managed to stop the car in one of the little pull
off areas. The significance of this did not cross Dawn's mind as she
opened the passenger door. It was what Dawson was hoping for. He opened
the boot of the car as she alighted.
"No need," said Dawson. "But you might want to ... I was going to
say get out of the car, but you already have." He was rummaging
around in the boot.
Dawn was, he estimated, standing midway along the rear nearside door.
"Just keep an eye out down the road and let me know if anything is
coming."
"Okay," she said, turning to face the front of the car. It was,
Dawson smiled, perfect. He stood up with the pad of cotton wool in the
palm of his hand. He took two steps forward until he was directly
behind the woman and then, in a quick movement, had his arm locked
around her body as the pad of cotton came square against her face,
blocking her nose and mouth.
There was a moment of struggle as she fought the chloroform on the pad
and she was a good struggler, fit and strong, but Dawson held onto her
firmly until the fumes began to take effect.
Slowly Dawn Hillman began to lose consciousness. Her world started to
spin as the fear began to rise within her. With a last desperate effort
she struggled to break free from her captor but to no avail. The
spinning world turned to darkness as she started to sink to the ground,
though she never reached it.
Dawson propped her up on his shoulder as he opened the back door of the
car. He bundled her inside before taping her legs and ankles together
with packing tape. Then he flipped her onto her stomach before lashing
her wrists together behind her back. Then he rolled her over again and
tucked her knees up so he could close the door.
The whole operation took less than three minutes and as he rolled her
over, Dawson noticed the dark thong the young woman was wearing.
Slamming the boot of the car back down, Dawson regained his seat and in
a moment the car was mobile again. Dawson drove carefully now. Though
the roads were little more than country lanes and he didn't expect to
meet more than a car or two, it would not do for him to leave the road
or come across a police car driving recklessly, so he remained
diligent, event though his pulse rate was soaring with the anticipation
of the evening ahead.
	Dawn remained unconscious throughout the journey. Dawson knew she
would. The journey was just over half an hour in length and it was dark
when Dawson pulled off the final country lane into his own driveway. To
call it a driveway is perhaps a misnomer - a track may be more
accurate. The gate to the track was open and Dawson stopped once he had
passed it so he could close it. Then he completed the journey up the
track, coming to a halt outside the main door of his home.
Quickly he opened the door and as quickly pulled the young, sleeping
woman from the back seat. As a dead weight she was heavy and Dawson was
glad he was in good physical shape. He lay her on the floor of the
hallway while he locked the car and closed the front door.
The door to the Chamber, as he called it, was soon open and the light
to the room switched on. There was a flight of stairs leading down and
Dawson struggled with the young woman as he carried her to the floor of
the Chamber.
Once she was lying on the floor, Dawson wasted no time. He cut off the
tape that he'd used to bind her with as a precaution during the
journey. Then he removed her boots. They had zips down the sides and
slid off easily. With some care he removed the black dress. He unzipped
the back and slid it off her shoulders. As he pulled it down he noticed
she wore a black bra as well as the black thong. Neither posed a
problem for him and in under two minutes she lay totally naked on the
floor, stomach up.
Dawson smiled at the thin wisp of landing strip at the top of her legs.
He opened her legs a little and admired the pouting, naked labia and
the firm bud of her clitoris.
Her breasts were firm and youthful and Dawson smiled to himself as to
how easy it had all been.
In a moment, Dawson cuffed straps around the woman's ankles. He tied
them tight, with the expertise of one practiced in his art. Then he
lowered the pole from the ceiling using the winch at the side of the
room until the pole was just a couple of feet off the floor of the
Chamber.
With the pole in position, Dawson took one of Dawn's legs and snapped
the clip on the belt onto the hook at one end of the pole. He repeated
the action with her other leg so she lay on the floor with her legs up
in the air, spread-eagled.
Dawson returned to the winch system and raised the pole a little,
causing Dawn's ass to rise off the floor. Then he turned his
attention to her arms. Quickly he cuffed straps around her wrists and
pulled her arms up and above her head, pulling them outwards as he did
so. There were small hoops set into the floor of the Chamber and in a
minute, Dawn's wrists were cuffed to them. She was now open, exposed
and defenceless. To complete her preparation, Dawson tied a blindfold
over her eyes.
With the woman secured in position, Dawson donned his face mask, the
mask with the voice distorter, and selected the initial instruments he
would use. Then, so as to waken the woman he filled a bucket with
ice-cold water. He took the bucket filled with water and, starting
where the tops of her legs were raised into the air he poured the water
over her abdomen and then her chest. He was just emptying the last of
the water over her head when she revived.
"What, where am I? Who the hell are you? Where's Brad?" Dawn's
recovery was almost instantaneous and in that initial moment of fear
she realised her open and exposed demise. "What the fuck are you
doing and who are you?" She cried out with a voice of sheer terror.
"Questions, question, questions," laughed Dawson behind the mask
with an added phoney Irish accent. "First off, forget Brad, whoever
he is. You're mine now, my captive, and I am going to teach you
something you will never forget, slut!"
"I'm not a slut. You must have the wrong woman."
"Dawn Hillman?" Dawson continued with the accent.
"Yes, but you must have the wrong one."
"Nope, I don't think so. Your face matches the picture I got."
"Who gave it to you?"
"That doesn't matter. Main thing is you are here to learn a
lesson."
"What lesson?" Dawn was now fully awake and had realised no amount
of struggling was going to release her from her bonds.
"The kind of lesson that turns an unfaithful, dirty little slut into
a dutiful, faithful woman. By the time we're finished you'll never
want to cheat on a man again."
"Michael, it has to be Michael. Just wait till the police catch up
with him."
"Michael, who is Michael?" Dawson mocked her.
"My ex fucking fiancé. Now, are you going to let me off this
contraption? The joke's over with and my legs are starting to
hurt."
"Part one, I don't know who Michael is and part two, no not until
you've learned your lesson, dirty little slut."
"I'm not a fucking slut! Now, let me go."
"You are a slut and you are going to learn how not to be." Dawson
walked over to the winch and racked the pole a couple more inches into
the air, stretching Dawn a little more. "To begin with, we're going
to give you what all sluts love."
"What's that?" Dawn asked.
"A little pleasure. But don't worry, it will soon be replaced by
pain." Dawson walked over to his bench and picked up the weighted
vibrator. It had a clip on the back end, the shaft was about a foot
long and at the head end was a bulb, a nice weighted bulb that would
push firmly against the woman's sex, covering it completely. He
picked it up and clipped a metal pole to the back end. Then he walked
back to the woman and passed the pole through a hole in the middle of
the pole holding Dawn's legs apart.
Lowering the vibrator, he adjusted the height until the bulb nestled
firmly in Dawn's pussy. He adjusted her labia so the head was partly
buried inside her, and then he tightened the screw on one side of the
pole so the vertical pole was now fixed in position, pushing the
vibrator's head firmly against the woman's reluctant sex.
"Now, some pleasure. This vibrator is powerful and it will have you
coming in a matter of moments. It's weighted and fixed on this pole,
so you can't shake it off. I'll set it to medium power and leave
you with it for a while."
"No, don't leave me, you bastard." Dawn tried to sound brave but
the fear in her voice belied her terror.
"Oh, I don't intend to stand here and watch you climax over and
over. I've got better things to do."
"But I've never had a multiple orgasm before. I may come in a
minute or two but then I'll lose interest and that will be the end of
it."
"We'll see." Dawson flicked the switch on the side of the
vibrator and the bulb hummed softly as it fired the vibrations into the
woman's reluctant cunt.
"Ahhhhh, oh God, that is powerful. Christ I'm going to come
quickly."
"Good," said Dawson, "and in half an hour you will be begging me
to stop this thing so you don't have to come again." The phoney
Irish accent sounded a little thicker as Dawson became aroused at the
sight of the young woman reaching her first peak.
"Ahhhh, I'm coming, I'm coming." Dawn cried as the powerful
vibrations brought her to the peak of pleasure. Trying to arch her back
further so as to push the vibrator deeper into her cunt, Dawn climaxed.
"Be back in half an hour or so," Dawson said as he walked to the
door.
"No, please don't leave meeeeee. Oh Christ, what's happening
now?"
"Another orgasm building I hope." Dawson closed the door behind
him, leaving the young woman to gasp her way to the next enforced
climax.


Chapter 5


Dawson passed his kitchen and picked up a can of beer from the fridge
which he took with him into his living room. He switched on the
television and watched Dawn as she reached another climax. She was
really struggling with her bonds now and Dawson reckoned her climaxes
must be getting more and more intense.
With the muted sounds of Dawn crying out with a mixture of pleasure and
now pain, as the unrelenting vibrator pounded her cunt with its
powerful throbbing action, Dawson turned his attentions to another case
he was involved in.
It was a strange case, for the woman, who went by the name of Angela
Fordenal was already a client. She had contacted Dawson as a result of
an advert he'd placed in a magazine he subscribed to. The woman was
not far away from where he lived and she had already experienced
Dawson's own brand of corrective action therapy. Angela had an
addiction to caffeine and she was impressed that Dawson's advert
promised to cure her of the addiction if she was open-minded enough to
give his methods a fair trial. Since their meeting a few weeks ago,
Dawson had, coincidentally been contacted by the woman's husband. He
was wanting to use Dawson's services, advertised in a much more adult
magazine, to have his wife chastised so as to make her more compliant
and less resistant in performing the way he wanted while they were in
the matrimonial bed.
It was going to be an interesting assignment for Dawson, as he now had
the opportunity to teach the woman a little more than the corrective
therapy she had so far experienced.
Dawson looked up at his television screen and watched as Dawn Hillman
reach her next orgasm, a little more intense than the previous one,
judging by the increase in volume of her cries for release. As he
watched, he remembered his first encounter with Angela.
She had asked him to visit her house during the day. When Dawson had
arrived he could immediately smell the coffee. Angela opened the door
to him dressed in a flimsy blouse and a dark blue skirt. She was
attractive to look at, being nearly six feet tall and slender, with
long blonde hair that fell over her shoulders. She had a sweet smile
and Dawson already knew she was not quite in her thirties.
"I can tell from the smell you are addicted to caffeine." Dawson
smiled disarmingly. "So, why do you want to give it up?"
"Because it's ruining my health. I'm always on edge, nervy and
can't relax. What can you do to help me?" She asked as they sat in
her lounge."
"Plenty. First though, you have to understand how my system works. It
is essentially a rewards based system combined with a punishment
system. If you obey my instructions and do as you are told, you will be
rewarded but if you fail then you will be punished. Fair enough?"
"I guess so, but what rewards and what punishment?"
"Even simpler. If you do all you are told to do, your reward is you
will not be punished and my next session is free of charge. If you fail
though, you will be punished and have to pay for my services."
"I see. And what does the punishment involve?" She sounded slightly
concerned, Dawson thought.
"Well, I have found that the original school system was quite good. A
spanking or caning does sharpen the mind. Then, we bring that into the
adult world and include some sexual torture and humiliation. It usually
works."
"I don't like the sound of that last bit," Angela said. "The
spanking and even caning I guess makes sense, but why the last bit?
What would my husband think?"
"That part is the icing on the cake, so to speak. It's the
incentive to be obedient in the future."
"Ah, I see. So how do we start?"
"Well, today I simply set your goals for the next week and then I
give you a taster of what will happen, only a mild taster at that, if
you fail."
"Okay. So, what are my goals?"
"I think you should limit yourself to two cups of coffee a day. Now,
obviously  you have to be honest here, because I am not going to be
watching you every moment of every day, but if you're not honest and
I find out, then your punishment will be ten times as bad as if you
simply admit on my next visit that you didn't maintain the goal. Do
you understand?"
"Yes, I think so. So what is this taster going to be?"
"Some fairly tame spanking and caning and then a little humiliation
- just enough to make you remember when you are tempted to drink that
third cup?"
"So, do I start tomorrow?"
"No, today." Dawson smiled as his cock stiffened with the thoughts
in his head.
"But I've already had three cups!" Angela exclaimed.
"Well, you will have to go without for the rest of the day and then
keep to two from midnight."
"A day without coffee. I don't think I can manage it," she
moaned.
"Let me help you."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Come over here and kneel over my lap to start with," said Dawson
almost affably, but as Angela stood up and her breasts jiggled behind
the flimsy blouse, Dawson's old man rose another notch under his
pants.
Angela straightened up and walked the few steps over to where Dawson
had now sat forward on his chair.
"Will this hurt?" She asked.
"Yes, a bit, but not nearly so bad as the real thing if you have to
be punished properly."
Angela bent over Dawson's lap and she felt his manhood pressing into
her stomach as he adjusted her position to the way he wanted it. Then,
to her surprise, she felt her skirt being lifted behind her so that her
buttocks were exposed, covered only by her blue knickers.
"Is that necessary?" She asked, wondering what would happen next.
"Oh yes, absolutely. There's no good in warming up your backside
when it's behind a skirt. "Now, try and stay relaxed."
Dawson raised his hand in the air and brought it back down on
Angela's pale, firm buttocks. The swat was not hard but it made an
appealing sound as the flesh of his hand bounced off her backside.
"Owwww," Angela moaned. Clearly she was not used to being spanked.
"Oh come on, this is just the warm up."
"Warm up, for what? Owwww," she added as the second smack landed.
"Warm up for the main session." Smack! Smack! Smack! Dawson started
smacking Angel's bottom with a little more force and with a pattern
that ensured his hand covered every part of her exposed cheeks. After a
session of maybe forty smacks he stopped.
Angela was gasping loudly with each smack and her once pale cheeks had
turned a healthier colour of pink.
"Excellent," said Dawson when he had stopped for a moment. "Now,
it's time to lose these." His hands were already tugging at the
elastic round the top of the blue knickers and he began to pull them
down over the woman's hips. Angela, shocked by this, reached her
hands up to stop him.
"Must you?" She asked. "Is it really necessary?"
Dawson brushed her hands away and completed the task of lowering her
knickers to her knees.
"Yes," he said as he delivered a much harder smack right across the
middle of her cheeks.
"Owwww!!" Gasped Angela.
Dawson continued to smack the bare buttocks of the young woman until
she was gasping loudly and her cheeks were a bright pink.
"Right, stand up," said Dawson eventually. Angela struggled to
stand, her bottom ached so much. "Now, that was the warm up. From
here we start to get serious, but please remember this is still only a
demonstration of what will happen if you fail to meet your targets."
"I've seen enough already," Angela sobbed gently. She reached
round to touch her fiery cheeks and winced as the pain flooded her mind
when she touched them. "Ow, they really hurt." She added with
another sob.
"Nonsense. Right, I'm going to stand up. I want you to bend back
over and grab your ankles." Dawson went to his case and extracted the
telescopic metal cane he had brought with him.
Angela saw him extend the rod and playfully swish it through the air.
"You're not going to use that, are you?" She cried with alarm in
her voice.
"Of course, now bend over. The one thing you are going to have to
learn if I am going to help you, is that obedience leads to a lot less
pain than does disobedience or rudeness. Now, for the last time before
I increase your punishment demonstration, bend over and grab your
ankles."
Angela decided to obey. She knew he was right and she needed a very
good reminder to help her meet her targets, so her bottom was presented
in the taut position, ready for the metal cane to make contact. Angela
did not have to wait long. There was a soft swishing sound in the air a
moment before the thin metal cane cracked against her fiery buttocks,
leaving a tell-tale stripe where her flesh had been further punished.
"Count out the strokes please, and do not get up or we will start
again." Dawson spoke as he tapped the cane against her taut flesh,
lining up the second stroke.
"One," Angela sobbed softly.
"Sorry, can't hear you." Dawson responded as the cane continued
to tap against the well-presented target area.
"One!" Angela spoke much louder.
"Good."
Swish, CRACK! The cane cut fiercely into the cheeks again, about an
inch higher than the first stroke.
"Arggghhhh!" Angela grimaced and then added, "two!"
Swish, crack! A third stroke landed mid-way between the first two and
Angela shrieked with pain at the fiery heat being added to her already
hot buttocks. "Three!" She called out after a few moments to calm
herself down from  the initial reaction.
Dawson paused for a moment and tapped the cane much lower down the
young woman's buttock cheeks. She clenched her buttocks in
anticipation of the next stroke, but Dawson continued to tap her
gently, waiting for the moment when the cheek muscles relaxed. After
several taps, Angela relaxed and Dawson sensed the moment for the next
stroke had arrived.
Swish, the cane whistled through the air before leaving it's stripy
presence on an area of flesh that was only just above the woman's
legs.
"Yeeeoooooowwwwww!" Angela bawled before adding, "four," in a
very shaky voice. It was obvious that tears were falling from her eyes
now as her sobbing was growing louder.
The cane patted not overly gently over the four welt marks that had
appeared across her buttocks, the first stripe already turning a fiery
purple and blue colour. Dawson was giving the young woman a lesson he
hoped would encourage her to stick to the reduced caffeine regime.
As he delivered the fifth, swishing stroke of pain to her buttocks,
Angela stood up straight and screamed with the pain.
"Arggggghhhhh!" She said, reaching round to grab her ankles.
"Such a shame," said Dawson. "There was to have been only one
more stroke. Instead, because you broke my instructions, there will be
another six."
"Noooo! (sob) Nooooo! (sob) Please no! I can't (sob) take any (sob)
more. I know what you mean, honest I do."
"I'm sorry, but if you want my help then you will have to learn to
do as you are told and that includes this little demonstration. Now,
bend over and grab your ankles."
Dawson waited until the young woman bent over and then he examined the
marks.
"Hmm, you do seem to bruise quite easily. Perhaps there is another
way to drive the message home." His hand was on her bottom now,
gently opening the cheeks so he could fully see the brown ring that
surrounded her tightly closed anus.
"What do you mean?" Angela sounded concerned, but at the same time
relieved that the pain might not be worsened.
"There are ways of driving the message home other than caning you -
and by that I am referring to the sexual torture and humiliation I
referred to later."
"Oh God, no, not that, please."
"Well, it's your choice, but I don't think you'll do too well
on another six strokes."
"Noooo, please not the cane. What did you have in mind?" Angela
knew damn well what Dawson had in mind and she didn't like the
thought of it one bit.
"Well, as this is just a demonstration I would be lenient. I see you
have a virgin ass, am I not right?"
"Yes."
"Seriously, no one's plundered your booty before?"
"No, I can't think of anything more horrid."
"Oh, I can, and if you don't get the message from this session you
will soon be on a very steep learning curve."
"So, are you saying what I think you are saying?"
"That depends on what you are thinking." Dawson was smirking to
himself. The little hole was tightly closed and his manhood was now so
stirred at the thought of ripping the virgin flesh, that Dawson was
aching to divest himself of his pants and see just what it was like.
"I'm thinking you want to ass-fuck me. Am I right?"
"Yes. It's that or six more strokes of the cane."
"Can't I give you oral sex instead. I've done that before and
though it's really horrid to think about, I could manage that."
"Ah, but you miss the point. This is not about what you consider
worthy as a punishment, it's what I want to punish you with. And, my
dear, though you have a pretty face and butter probably wouldn't
melt, etc, I doubt you will find it half so memorable taking my cock
all the way down your throat as you will taking it all the way into
your rectum. Now, time is running out, so what's it to be."
"My ass," Angela relented very reluctantly. "Can we do it on the
bed?"
"No, here will do just fine. Now, stay still and try not to fight
what is going to happen to you - it will only make it worse, much
worse."
Dawson was already removing his pants and his truly impressive cock
sprang erectly into view. He walked round to Angela's front and
yanked her hair up so her face came up to the place where his phallus
was in full view.
"Impressive, don't you think," he smirked.
"Yes, very big. Are you sure it will go in?" Angela sounded
humiliated and defeated. Christ! Why did she call this guy to help her
with her addiction - she knew the answer really, but the session had
turned into something far worse than she had expected.
"It'll fit."
"Do it then," said Angela, closing her eyes as if to shut out the
inevitable pain.
A moment later she sensed Dawson taking up position behind her again.
She felt the heat of the huge phallus as it neared the parting of her
already burning buttocks. Then, she had to steady herself as Dawson
grasped her hips with his strong hands, a sure sign he was about to
plunder her tightly-closed asshole.
Angela screwed up her eyes as she felt the tip of his cock now push
against what she presumed was her anal orifice. She was right. The
warmth and resistance only served to intensify Dawson's masochistic
pleasure as he grasped her hips more firmly. Then with a long,
lingering thrust, he pushed his cock hard against the sphincter,
pushing until the muscle gave way under his pressure.
"Ahhhh, grrrrrrr, ahggggggg, NOOOOOOOOO!" Angela howled as she felt
the pressure rise to a level she could no longer bear. Dawson, though,
was not listening to her agony, only engaged in the pursuit now of his
own pleasures.
The anal sphincter was a strong muscle, designed to repel all unwanted
advances and Angela was as determined to keep Dawson out as he was to
enter her.
Then as Angela screamed with a great yelp of pain, Dawson's cock
plunged past the muscle, tearing it as he did so. With the force needed
to penetrate the woman, Dawson's cock slid in almost to the hilt in
one long thrust. God she was slick and hot.
Angela howled again when Dawson pulled her burning ass flesh onto his
abdomen, ensuring his cock was fully embedded in her sticky backside.
Then he began to thrust his cock in and out of the ripped hole. He saw
the faint trickle of fresh, red blood as it mingled with the other body
secretions along the length of his shaft and it excited him to think he
had caused the woman pain.
He pumped her vigorously, taking no heed of her constant cries of pain
as with each thrust he squashed her bruised buttocks against his body.
After a good five minutes of anal thrusting Dawson felt the tell-tale
surge of pressure in his manhood. With one final thrust into the
woman's ass, he came,  great globs of white spunk jetting into her
for several seconds. When his cock had finished writhing around inside
her with the throes of orgasm, Dawson withdrew and went to the
downstairs bathroom.
When he came back a couple of minutes later, Angela was still in the
same position, a thin trickle of blood, mixed with his body fluids,
trailing down the inside of one leg.
"Have you finished?" She sobbed. "If so, can I get up now?"
"Yes, yes, we're done for today."
"Thank fuck for that, now do you want a coffee?" Angela
straightened and painfully felt her ass with her hands.
"No, and neither do you unless you want to give yourself a MUCH
harder session next time."
"I couldn't take that but I need some coffee."
"Your choice. Anyway, I have to be going but I'll be back at the
same time next week."
"Okay." Angela limped slightly as she showed Dawson to the door.
He'd only been there an hour but her world had changed dramatically
and even as the door closed behind Dawson she wondered how he'd get
to know if she'd had the odd extra cup. God, she needed one now, and
a bath, if only to clean up and try to soothe her flaming buttocks. As
she wandered into the kitchen she felt her buttocks and wondered just
how badly she had been ripped. Not too badly, she thought. There
wasn't actually much blood but the pain had been excruciating.
She poured herself a cup of coffee, took a sip and looked out of the
window. Dawson stood in the middle of the garden wagging a finger at
her and in that moment Angela knew the next session would be
unbearable.


Chapter 6


Dawson looked back up at the television screen and noticed how Dawn was
no longer resisting the power of the vibrator. In fact, it looked like
her body had entered the state of almost constant orgasm, all brought
on by the weighted vibrator that pushed mercilessly against the
pulsating bud of her clitoris and the entrance to her vulva.
A minute later he entered the Chamber. Dawn was sobbing softly and
groaning as her body was pushed to yet another climax.
"I think that's enough," said Dawson. The vibrator was turned off
and lifted off it's target.
"Can I go now," Dawn gasped through the exhaustion of her
pleasures.
"Good God, no!" Dawson said through the voice distorter in the mask
he was wearing once again. "We have, as the song goes, only just
begun."
"Oh God, what now."
"Now, we replace the pleasure with some pain. You'll like this, not
a lot I suspect, but it will do you good." As he spoke, Dawson pushed
the ball-gag into Dawn's mouth before securing it in place with the
straps around her head.
"Not that anyone will hear you scream, but it should add to the
experience for you."
When he'd finished with the ball-gag, Dawson unleashed her arms from
the hoops in the floor. "Now, you will want to take your weight on
your hands."
Dawn lay there wondering what Dawson meant. She did not wait for long
before she heard the grating noise of a winch being kicked into action.
A moment later she felt her feet being raised into the air. Dawn was
still blindfolded so had no idea what exactly was raising her into the
air but she instinctively knew she had to use her hands to stop her
head dragging across the floor.
A minute later the winch stopped. By now she was hanging upside down
from the contraption with her hands barely touching the floor, and she
was acutely aware in the darkness that engulfed her through the
blindfold, that her legs were still spread wide apart and she was
completely naked and totally exposed. Then she felt something that
rested menacingly between her legs, right on top of her sex. Instinct
told her the pain was about to start, but the gag in her mouth meant
little sound would come out.
Of course, Dawn did not know it was a flagellator, it just felt like
something odd resting on the lips of her sex. She didn't know what it
was but a moment later, muffled by the ball-gag, she let out a
blood-curdling scream as the first stroke of the multi-strapped device
came swishing down, cutting into her labia and whipping against the
erect, and very sensitive bud of her clitoris.
Dawson whipped her sex thoroughly, applying at least a dozen
medium-paced strokes straight between her upturned and spread-eagled
legs.
Dawn struggled to keep her hands on the floor so as to stop herself
spinning in the air. She was stretched out and at the mercy of this
sadist. Now the pain in her sex was excruciating, made worse by the
very sensitive state she was in following the enforced climaxes.
"Mmmm, armmmemm," she mumbled behind the gag as stroke after stroke
of the flagellator rained into her very sensitive and swollen sex area.

"Getting the message, slut?" The voice was still distorted but if
anyone else had been in the room, they would have known that the face
behind the mask was getting aroused.
"Mmmmm," Dawn howled in muffled form as another salvo of whip
lashes caressed her labia - puffy skin that was rapidly going a deep,
purple colour.
"Good."
Dawson put down the flagellator and returned to the woman. Then, he
placed his hand over her vulva and relished the sensation of heat he
had generated. He patted her labia non-too-gently, causing Dawn to cry
out again, a muffled cry of anguish as he continued to torture her.
"Guess what happens next, slut?" He hissed into the woman's ear.
"Mmm, naanamgiaine," she said- an apology for 'I can't
imagine'.
"We're going to get rid of your little bit of pube fuzz."
"Nnnnno," she screamed behind the gag.
"Oh yes, all sluts have to be fully shaven. Now, I'm proposing a
little wax treatment to get the hairs off."
"Nnnnnn," Dawn groaned. Dawson was already walking away from her,
smiling to himself as the sadistic thoughts filled his mind.
The candle was an inch in diameter and about ten inches long. Dawson
held it up to the dim light and checked the flat end for roundness.
Satisfied, he returned to the woman and used one hand to part her
pouting labia while he lined the candle up with the hole that was
presented to him.
Dawn felt the cold, hard wax of the candle as it touched the inner
moist walls of her vulva. Dawson had already smeared some petroleum
jelly onto the blunt end of the candle so it slid easily into the
woman's well-worked vulva.
Dawson lowered the candle fully five inches into her body before
placing a large clip round the bottom of the bit that was still
protruding. The clip was a thin piece of metal tube with two small rods
that protruded from the side. The clip slid into her vulva until the
rods prevented further insertion.
The candle was in place and sufficiently embedded in the woman to
prevent it from popping out or toppling over.
"And now we begin the wax treatment," Dawson said. In that moment,
Dawn heard the tell-tale click of the cigarette lighter. A few moments
later she smelled the aroma of the candle as the wax began to melt.
"Oh God!" She thought to herself. "I'm on fire."
"Now," said Dawson, "I suggest you try and stay as still as
possible until the wax has done its job."
"Mmmmm," said Dawn as the wax started to drip down the side of the
candle. Although she could not see anything, she could feel the warmth
of the wax as it grew between her spread-eagled legs.
"Another twenty minutes and you should be ready for de-waxing,"
said Dawson. "See you then."
"Mmmmm," mumbled Dawn, though the door to The Chamber closed behind
Dawson even as she groaned. Dawn was alone, in her own world of
enforced darkness, with the weight of the candle pushing against her
labia, five inches buried in her sex tunnel, and an unseen flame
melting the wax so it would soon drip onto her naked sex area. Dawn
was, to say the least, afraid.

***

Greg Dawson returned to his lounge and switched on the television so he
could keep an eye on Dawn's progress while he had a cup of tea. The
candle was burning with a bright, yellow light and Dawson could clearly
see the wax dripping down the side of the candle. It was, he estimated,
only a minute or so away from reaching the fiery, tortured flesh of her
labia and that, he knew, was when the fun would begin.
Almost with disinterest, Dawson opened the mail that had been dropped
onto his mat that morning. It was now late evening but he had not
touched it since its arrival.
There were a couple of bills - they always seemed to come just at the
wrong end of the month and then there were two responses to an advert
he'd been running.
He looked at the first.
Celia Brown was looking for a Master to enlighten her and teach her the
role of a slave. She had some experience but her previous Masters had
been incompetent and whilst taking their pleasures she had not found
them good tutors.
"That one," said Dawson to himself, "needs a firm hand. Could be
interesting." He picked up the photograph that accompanied the letter
of introduction. "Shame she weighs at least three hundred and forty
pounds at a guess," he smiled to himself. "Another lump who is
desperate for some attention. Now, this on the other hand ..." he
smiled to himself as he picked up the second letter and photograph.
Debbie was five seven, weighed about one hundred and forty pounds,
Dawson guessed, looked good in the baby-doll nightdress she was wearing
and had long, blonde hair.
He letter of introduction said quite simply that she had led a
sheltered life, Convent school and was now nineteen and wanting to
explore her own sexuality. She didn't know if she was a born
submissive but knew she liked dominant men and wanted to learn how to
please them.
Dawson felt his pants bulge as he read the letter and looked at the
picture.
"Yes, my beauty. There is probably much I can teach you," he
muttered. His gaze reverted to the television screen, where the
upturned Dawn Hillman was writhing around as the hot wax dripped onto
her naked sex and now seemed to have started dripping onto the area of
landing strip Dawson was intent on removing. The flame on the top of
the candle flickered brilliantly as the wax dripped more effusively
down the side of the remaining shaft onto the woman's slowly burning
flesh.
Dawson picked up the phone and dialled the number the blonde had added
to the bottom of her enquiry.
"Hi, can I speak to Debbie?" He asked, aware that the deep voice on
the other end of the phone was not that of a woman.
"Yeah, who is it?" The anonymous voice asked.
"Tell her it's Greg," Dawson said simply.
In a moment, Dawson could hear the deep voice relaying the message,
seemingly halfway up the street. There was a pause of several seconds
before another phone was picked up.
"Hi, Debbie here," said the sexy, sultry voice of the blonde.
"Hi Debbie, it's Greg Dawson. You wrote to me."
"Oh yes. Hang on a second. You still there Dave?" She asked, sure
her partner was listening in. There was the distinctive sound of  a
click as the second receiver was replaced. "Go ahead, Mr Dawson, I
can talk now."
"Is Dave your husband?"
"No, just my live in. Now, do you think you can help me?"
"That depends what you want to find out," said Dawson softly.
"I want to find out the real me."
"And Dave can't help you do that?" The enquiry was necessary but
Dawson already knew the answer.
"No. He has no idea how to help me. All he does is expect me to
perform and then he gets cross if I don't deliver what he's
expecting, even though he hasn't told me what he wants."
"Sounds a normal relationship to me."
"Is it?"
"Oh yes, happens all the time."
"So, can you do anything to help me?"
"If you mean, can I train you to know what is expected of you, then
yes, I probably can." Dawson was looking at the baby-doll nightie and
had mentally undressed the blonde. His cock jerked in his pants with
the expectation of where the conversation was leading.
"Good. When can we get started, where do we meet and, most
importantly, how much will it cost?
"We can get started anytime after tomorrow. As for meeting I suggest
initially I come to you and after assessing exactly what is required we
can plan future sessions. As to cost, I'm in a good mood, so you can
pay me what you think the service is worth."
"That's very kind but really, I have no idea how much something
like this is worth."
"You will do, believe me, you will do. So, when should I come
over?"
"Not a good idea, really, as I don't want Dave to know what I'm
doing until I'm ready and as he's currently off work he's here
most of the time."
"I see. Well, if you have no objection you could come over to my
place."
"I think that would be best. Can you make tomorrow afternoon?"
"Saturday afternoon - let me look in the diary?"
Dawson pretended to rummage around but in reality he was taking a quick
look at the picture of Dawn Hillman, still writhing around as her pussy
area became more and more covered in wax.
"Yes, that's fine. Now, you need my address and some directions."
Dawson spent the next couple of minutes directing the blonde where to
drive to and then the conversation was over. He switched off the phone,
took one further look at the picture and smiled to himself. Dumpling
people he could live without, but genuinely attractive people wanting
his particular brand of self-discovery he would see almost any time of
the day or night.
With the conversation over and Dawson lined up with a new client for a
session in just over twenty four hours, his attention turned once again
to the woman who was dangling in the Chamber with a candle buried deep
in her sex, the wax from which was steadily dripping over her
well-flogged groin.

Chapter 7


The door to the Chamber opened a minute later and Dawson stood there
once again wearing the face mask with the voice distorter. It was a
simple precaution, hardly necessary as Dawn Hillman was blindfolded.
"Feeling hot?" Dawson's voice rasped against the distorter.
"Mmmm," she replied, the ball-gag preventing any other speech. In
some strange way she felt relieved that her torturer had returned to
the room. It was comforting to know that she was no longer alone. Her
sex was on fire, the heat from the candle almost more than she could
bear. In a moment she felt the cool breath as the candle was
extinguished.
"You're well-covered. It should be easy to remove those little
hairs now."
Dawn felt the candle being pulled out of her cunt. The heat diminished
as Dawson pulled it out slowly, dragging with it some of the wax that
had dripped onto her flesh, burning the hairs that lay beneath.
"This is a special depilatory candle. When it drips onto your skin,
the wax has an agent in it that melts your pubes, so in theory all I
have to do now is whip it off you and the hairs will come away too."
Whip?!!!  Dawn thought to herself, with horror. She tried to wriggle
away from whatever was going to happen but all that happened was her
hands left the ground and she swung freely in the air, her legs still
held wide open by the spreader bar.
She felt the strands of leather from the whip as they lay between her
legs. Dawson played the strands up the insides of each leg in turn,
making sure she knew what was going to happen. Then came the first
stroke. Right across her pouting, tortured labia - labia so recently
divested of the hot stick of candle they had held in place for the past
half hour or so.
Dawn tried to scream through the ball-gag but all that came out was a
muffled cry, far removed in its intensity from the burning feeling that
had just filled her pussy. The whip flailed her pouting sex time and
again, each stroke removing some of the wax, and with it the dissolved
hairs. With each stroke, Dawn screamed in agony, though the gag stifled
most of the sounds. After thirty strokes that covered her entire pubic
area, Dawson stopped. Dawn was breathing very heavily and her blindfold
felt sodden from the tears of her pain. Her sex looked really red and
raw, and most of the wax had been removed. What was left was slashed
through by the tails of the whip.
"Okay, now we'll scrape the rest off," said Dawson through the
voice distorter. "First, to ensure we get a proper finish, I need to
fill your pussy up. I have a lovely big dildo here that will do the
job."
The dildo was big. Fortunately Dawn couldn't see just how big but it
was easily a foot in length, made of some solid rubber compound that
shaped it into the image of a well-formed phallus. The shaft was nearly
one and a half inches in diameter.
Dawson smeared some gel over the tapered "head" of the device and
rested it on the entrance to Dawn's sex. Then he let gravity do the
rest. Slowly the dildo buried its head between the woman's labia,
entering her vulva and slipping inside her cunt until it was buried
several inches within her.
"Filling?" Dawson smirked.
"Arrrummm," Dawn replied in such a way Dawson took it to be the
affirmative. She was still breathing heavily and Dawson guessed
correctly that the sheer size of the dildo had aroused her.
"Good, now that has opened your cunt up nicely for me so I can go to
work on the wax without fear of cutting you too badly."
Dawn felt something cold on the inside of her left leg, just an inch or
so away from her sex. The something cold felt sharp as it slid smoothly
over her skin. The knife was indeed sharp and made of finest Sheffield
steel. It gleamed in the light of the Chamber as Dawson expertly played
it over the woman's flesh, letting the weight of the blade do the
work - something Dawson had learned would result in a lower chance of
her being cut by the sharp metal.
Bit by bit the wax came away from her skin, small flakes dropping onto
her chest and back as they fell to the floor. Slowly, Dawn became
totally shaved in what was a very unconventional manner.
After ten minutes of careful wielding of the sharp knife, every trace
of the wax and her pubic hairs had been removed. Dawn hung there upside
down with her labia puffy and red, the dildo sticking up majestically
from her cunt, its weight pushing down to ensure it remained fully
inserted.
"And now, I am going to let you down and let you rest," said Dawson
after a few minutes. He pulled the dildo out of her cunt and watched as
her sex lips slowly closed again, and then he lowered her to the floor.
Still blindfolded and gagged, he released her ankles from their
restraints.
Holding her hand, Dawson helped the woman to stand and then guided her
over to the low table that stood to one side of the chamber. He helped
her to sit on the padded top and helped her lift her legs onto the
table top as he swung her round. Then he helped her lie down, so her
head was just on the top of the table.
Once she was lying down, Dawson inserted two poles into the side of the
table, so they extended from the table at ninety degrees to the length
of the table, just below where Dawn's shoulders lay. The poles
clicked into place and were securely locked.
Dawson took hold of Dawn's left arm and stretched out so her arm lay
against the pole. In a moment he had wrapped a length of rope round her
wrist and lashed it to the pole so her arm was extended and securely
fastened. Dawson then treated her right arm in the same way so Dawn
ended up with her arms stretched out sideways.
Dawson then looped a length of rope around Dawn's upper chest, just
below her heaving breasts, and secured the rope under the table,
pinioning her to the table.
Next he took her right leg and parted it from the left, lowering the
lower section of her limb over the side of the table, before cuffing
her ankle. He moved round the table and adjusted the position of her
left leg so that it too hung over the side of the table. Again he
cuffed the ankle and then pulled both ankles together under the table
so he could link the cuffs together.
The result was most pleasing. Dawn now had her legs wide apart, her sex
fully exposed and her newly shaved pussy on display, the flesh red from
its whipping and shaving.
"Did you know that electro-stimulation is believed to create the most
intense orgasms?" Dawson asked casually when he had taken the
ball-gag out of Dawn's mouth.
"You bastard," she finally coughed. "When I get out of this..."
"You will do precisely nothing. You have no idea who I am, you have
no idea where you are and, when it is all over you will be such a
reformed little slut, you will do - nothing." Dawson hissed through
the voice distorter - a sound that was almost as pleasing as that
made by his favourite film character - Darth Vader. Perhaps there was
a little bit of the Dark Prince in Dawson - certainly at the moment
he very much felt the force was on his side.
Dawn struggled with her bonds, but to no avail. She realised her captor
was an expert. Even as she lay there, still blindfolded, she wondered
if this was the same person who she knew as Brad. She decided to give
it a go.
 "Are you Brad?" She asked timidly.
"Brad, who is Brad? You are mine now and I have a message to get
across to you. By the end of tonight you will want to serve me as my
slave."
"I don't think so?"
"Oh but you will do, maybe not immediately, but in a few days time
you will start to look for me because your body will have a deep
craving for more of what is happening to you tonight."
"I doubt it. I hate this stuff. All you're doing is hurting me and
believe me - I will find out who you are and make you pay with a long
time in prison."
Dawson laughed and it sounded ridiculous through the distorter. "I
don't think so."
Dawson had been wandering round the Chamber as they had chatted. Now he
returned to the woman with the things he had picked up.
The metal tube was cold to the touch and felt greasy to Dawn as he
reached beneath her exposed sex and found the tiny anal orifice. Dawn
tried to resist the hard object as it pushed against her, but she was
weakened from  her ordeal and in a moment the tube was fully four
inches inside her rectum. From the back of the tube came two wires -
one red, the other black.
Next Dawson picked up the electro-vibrator. He inserted this easily
into Dawn's cunt, a tunnel that was already well-lubricated with her
hidden desires. Even though she had no idea what was going to happen to
her, Dawn's body was already beginning to respond with arousal to the
double penetration.
Again, the vibrator had two wires leading from the back of it - one
red, the other black.
"And finally, tit-electrocution," said Dawson, almost with mirth.
The two metal clips were soon in place, grabbing round the bases of
each of Dawn's erect nipples. They had a single wire leading from
them - one was red, the other, black.
Dawson spent the next two minutes wiring the various devices to a black
box which had three switches and a couple of dials on it and a lead
that extended across the floor to another box - a transformer -
that in turn plugged into a wall socket.
Dawson turned on the socket on the wall and then flicked a switch on
the transformer before returning to the couch.
"This may tingle a little," he said through his voice distorter.
Almost immediately Dawn felt the vibrator as it began purring in her
pussy. The vibrations started softly but Dawson soon turned the dial
until they were more intense, the lubrication in her sex tunnel
providing the perfect medium for the vibrations to penetrate deep
inside her. Dawn felt the climax building within her, the vibrator
buried to its full length making sure the whole of her sex was treated
to the stimulation.
Dawn gasped as the climax erupted within her, not a huge megatastic
orgasm, but a rippling wave of pleasure that made her immediately
desire more. And more she was going to get.
Dawson flicked a second switch and immediately Dawn felt something in
her bottom. The butt-plug literally sprang to life, only for a moment,
and delivered a jolt of current into her rectum. It tingled for the
moment the current lasted. In a strange way it aroused her, though it
made her squirm on the couch. The second jolt followed exactly five
seconds after the first. It was of the same intensity as the first jolt
and lasted only a fraction of a second. Again it tingled and felt
strange, somehow stimulating to the woman who could do nothing to stop
it.
Dawson flicked a third switch and the next jolt of current passed
simultaneously up Dawn's rectum and all along the length of her hot,
lubricated vulva.
"Oh God," she groaned at the double stimulation. She could feel the
build up towards her next orgasm and knew the constant throbbing
vibrations from the instrument in her vulva, mixed with the jolts of
electric current, would soon bring her to a climax.
The next jolt flowed through her abdominal cavities and Dawn was close,
very close to coming. Five seconds later, as the next jolt hit her
body, she climaxed with a loud groan. As she came, she tried to arch
her back in response to the orgasmic wave, but the ropes with which she
was bound held her in place, intensifying the sensations of cumming in
her body.
"Argggghhhhh!" She gasped as the climax reached its peak. She'd
never had such a long spell of sexual arousal in her life, and
certainly never been aroused by force in the manner that was happening
this evening. Even the pain of a short while ago, seemed now to eat
into her mind and add to her arousal. She was already building to
another peak as the jolts in her abdomen intensified.
Dawn was sure, rightly, that her captor had turned up the current
slightly. Now she came quickly, panting and crying out with the
admixture of pain and pleasure as the orgasmic waves ripped through her
young body.
"And now, the final addition," smirked Dawson to himself as he
flicked the final switch.
"Arrrggggggg!" Dawn screeched as the current jolted through her
breasts, her nipples stiffening instantly under this strange sensation.
"Okay, another half of this and we'll see if your attitudfe has
changed any."
"No.....arggggghh (another jolt of current), please don't leave me.
I can't take much more of .... Arggghhhh ... this! Oh God, I'm
cumming again."
And Dawn came, wailing like a banshee on heat, she screamed her way
through the most intense orgasm she had ever experienced. Dawson smiled
at the small pool of liquid that had seeped out onto the couch, a sure
sign Dawn was actually enjoying what was happening to her, even if her
screams might have suggested otherwise.
"Half an hour," he mumbled through the voice distorter and then he
was gone, closing the Chamber door behind him.



Chapter 8


Dawson returned to his lounge to watch Dawn Hillman on the video link.
The picture was clear and Dawson wished he could solve the sound
problems that left the woman's evident crying out, totally silent.
Dawson pulled the mask off his face - he was thirsty and the can of
beer he'd picked up from the fridge in the kitchen hissed as he
pulled the ring on the top of it.
Dawn Hillman was clearly in the throes of multiple orgasms, barely
getting a rest from one climax before the next was being induced by a
combination of the electric currents and the humming, throbbing
vibrations of the device inserted deep in her vulva.
Dawson kept one eye on the television as he took a swig from a can of
beer. His groin ached with desire, his manhood bursting his pants.
Then, in the midst of watching Dawn tremble under the waves of another
climax, and with the can poised at his open, thirsty, mouth, the phone
rang.
Dawson took the swig of beer and waited for the phone to ring three
times, then he picked it up.
"Yeah," he said without any formality. The people who knew the
number knew him and his ways, and any organisation cold-calling him
would get short shrift in just a moment.
"Senor Dawson?" The voice was one Dawson vaguely recognised, the
accent slowly bringing that recognition to the front of his memory.
"Senor Careva?" Dawson spoke slowly, not yet totally sure he was
correct.
"Si, Senor Dawson, you have a good memory."
"Thank you Senor Careva." Dawson smiled to himself.  Tact and
diplomacy were not exactly high on his agenda but Careva appreciated
Dawson's effort of memory.
"I have a job for you, Mr Dawson," the voice lost some of its
accent and carried a new gravity. The formalities were over with and
Careva was keen to get down to business.
"Go on," said Dawson. Already he had put the beer can down, it
would wait. Instead, as he sat in the armchair he picked up a pen and
positioned it over a pad of paper.
"I am thinking it is time my unruly wife is taught another lesson."
"You mean, Dominique?"
"Your memory is very good. It must be what, nearly a year since I
last needed your services."
"About that, yes." Dawson flciekd his gaze back to the television
for an instant and saw Dawn now had her back arched as best she could
manage - another electrically-induced orgasm flowing through her
body.
"Yes, well the time has come for another session, Mr Dawson. What you
did worked for a while but now I am thinking she needs a reminder. You
see, she has stopped providing all the little things I want from
her."
"I see. Well, do you still have Donatonio?"
"No, he left me. Actually he left because of Dominique. He could not
control his penis, I think you say, so I had to remove him from the
temptation. Unfortunately I think it precipitated Dominique's unruly
behaviour."
"Are you sure she isn't seeing Donatonio behind your back?"
"You think she may be?"
"No, Senor Careva, not really. That would be stupid of her."
"It would be I agree, but it would explain her reluctances and her
days away from the estate. Perhaps you could find out for me using your
inimitable methods."
"I may be able to. The only reason I was asking about Donatonio is
because he knows the way to the farm. Someone else will have to bring
her."
"Oh, well I was rather hoping you would be able to visit us and
demonstrate your techniques here."
"Ah, now that would be an honour, Senor Careva."
"Good. When can you come?"
"When would suit you best?"
"Dominique is out shopping tomorrow. I was wondering whether it would
be possible to have something ready for her when she gets back in the
evening?"
Dawson smiled to himself. He remembered the fiery Italian moll and how
she had hurt Donatonio on a previous visit to him. Now to be given the
chance to take the battle of wills to her own home thrilled him.
"Yes, that will be fine. I presume you will be able to provide a
couple of strong men to assist me. They also need to be well endowed if
she is to learn her lesson properly."
"I understand. I will act as one of the men and I will ask Marco to
assist me. He is very large and powerful. In college many years ago he
was called the Ox, because of his size."
"Excellent. In that case, I think the young lady will be brought to
heal by the end of tomorrow."
"I hope so, Senor Dawson. If you succeed your reward will be great.
Now, I must retire. The doctor's advise me I need to get more rest.
More rest! With my worries?"
Dawson thought to himself - if I had two million sitting in a bank I
don't think I'd be overly worried - but then assured Careva that
this was one worry that would soon be history.
"I will see you after lunch then," Dawson ended the conversation,
noting that the young woman on the couch in the Chamber was arching her
back as best her bonds would let her as another orgasm was forced from
her fast-tiring body. It was time for Dawson to do what he loved best.

***

The car stopped silently a hundred yards from Dawson's farm gate. The
owner had dimmed the lights some way back, just in case anyone was
watching. For a month now he'd been watching Dawson, watching and
waiting. He'd noted the times Dawson had gone out with Dawn Hillman
and he'd followed Dawson like a hawk watches its prey - from a
distance but ever watchful. |Now was the time to move in.
Only Dawson's involvement with Dawn Hillman interested the owner of
the car. He left the car and silently padded over the soft earth
towards the sprawling farm house. Careful to avoid the shingle driveway
in case he was overheard,  the man hugged the darkness of the evening
as if it were his very life. He walked slowly past each window until he
came to the one with a faint light in it. He peered through the glass
carefully, poking his head round the side to make his detection as
unlikely as possible.
The man he knew to be Dawson was sat on the sofa watching his
television. In his hand he held a telephone receiver to his ear and on
the television a woman was lying on a couch, evidently in a state of
bondage while she convulsed at regular intervals, presumably from
whatever devices had been attached to her nipples and inserted in the
two orifices between her legs. The watcher became aroused at the sight
and rubbed the bulge in his pants thoughtfully. It was happening.
The man saw Dawson leave the chair and the room, leaving the television
and the side lamp turned on. He waited until Dawson appeared on the
television screen. He watched as a voyeur watches, his cock in his
hand, as Dawson removed the devices between the woman's legs and
unclipped the clamps secured to her nipples. Even on the screen it was
evident the woman had ejaculated at least once during her period of
enforced arousal for the couch glistened in the light coming from above
the picture.
The man outside the window was groaning now as his own member throbbed
with the excitement. He had waited for this evening for several months
and now he could scarcely believe it was happening. Of course he'd
known where Dawson lived for some time - the first time he followed
him back when he'd met up with Dawn and though he'd followed the
like a hawk over the past few months he had never known exactly the
moment Dawson was going to strike.
He had to admit, while he'd been waiting in his own car a few minutes
before, that the puncture gag was superbly acted and a brilliant way of
capturing the hapless woman. He also had to admit that Dawson was as
good as his word. What he had been watching on the television showed
not only the fact that Dawn was being forced to climax under duress, it
was evident she had suffered earlier on in the evening before he had
been able to watch the antics.
As he masturbated, his rigid cock now open to the world, the man
watched Dawn rise from the couch in an eerie silence. She stood there,
trembling as Dawson attached the cuffs round her ankles. Then the metal
pole appeared and her legs were locked wide apart. The watcher noticed
the familiar landing strip had gone - and the area was somewhat
reddened. He watched now as out of shot something must have been
lowered from the ceiling, because Dawn looked upwards and the look on
her face was one of total despair.
Reluctantly and slowly she raised her right hand into the air. The
fiery temperament had evidently gone from her and weariness had
replaced the strength which the watcher was familiar with. Her right
arm was stretched to the side of her body and evidently secured to
something just out of view. A moment later her left arm was similarly
secured and Dawn stood there spread-eagled and trembling.
Dawson's shadow came in and out of view on occasions but only now,
with the woman facing the camera did his arm appear. It was holding a
small flogger. Dawson trailed the strands of the flogger across the
woman's stiffened nipples and over her breasts. Then he flogged her,
a dozen or more strokes landing in quick succession right across her
chest. Though there was no sound, she was obviously in some discomfort.
The flogger crossed her breasts and the marks appeared, a dull glow on
the screen. From the way the woman struggled with her bonds the
discomfort was growing. Then the flogging was over. Dawson's image
appeared behind the woman and the watcher could now see he was wearing
a face mask.
"Clever," he muttered out loud, though no one could hear him. He
watched as Dawson played his fingers up and down the sides of the
woman's body, and now she writhed from a different discomfort as the
tickling caused her to try and escape the unwanted attentions. Dawson
tickled her for some moments and then ran his hands over her breasts,
making sure he squeezed the nipples firmly between thumb and
forefinger. Then he repeated the flogging until the woman was once
again writhing with discomfort.
The watcher at the lounge window could feel his own climax pending. He
had intended to wait but the pleasure that was rising within him was
too much to stop now. Grunting, his hot spunk splashed onto the flower
bed next to where he was standing. When he was through, he took up
position once again at the window. His fascination with what was
happening to the young woman was not diminished with his own
culmination - indeed, as he watched her demise continue, the man's
cock started to rise with further anticipation and pleasure.
Dawn was now bent over, the equipment holding her arms that had been
out of shot now clearly visible as a pole to which her wrists were
secured by straps. The pole had been lowered to the floor and clipped
by short chains to the pole that was already holding her legs wide
apart, so she was completely doubled over, her ass jutting out to the
side of the camera shot at an oblique angle. Then it occurred to the
watcher at the window that Dawson was filming the action. Why else
would he have taken the trouble to twist the woman round so the camera
could pick up the best of whatever was going to happen next. This
thrilled him and his sticky, clammy cock stiffened even more.
A few moments later Dawson appeared behind the woman's ass. He rubbed
her cheeks and clearly said something that upset the woman for she
shook her head vigorously and tried to move but without success. She
was securely bound wrists and ankles and now at the mercy of whatever
Dawson had planned for her next.
Dawson patted her ass cheeks with what looked like a fairly vigorous
action and then after a few strokes, leaned down and parted the
hazy-pink cheeks with his hands, exposing her ass. It had closed again
after the earlier insertion of the electro-plug and it soon became
evident, to the immense joy of the watcher outside the window, what
Dawson was going to do.
Silently to the watcher, Dawson pulled his pants down, revealing a
well-engorged, long phallus of a cock - a cock clearly greatly turned
on by the events of the evening; a cock looking forward to breaking
into Dawn's body.
Dawson pressed the head of his cock against her sphincter. Inevitably
the woman resisted this back passage penetration and the watcher could
tell by the movement of her head as she shook it from side to side that
she was determined Dawson would not rape her ass.
She had reckoned without the determination of the man standing behind
her. Nor had she imagined the iron-girder like structure of his
impressive manhood. Dawson placed a hand on each side of her hips once
the head of his phallus was aligned the way he wanted it.
The woman threw her head backwards and upwards as Dawson pushed harder
against the unyielding portal. Then the watcher nearly jumped out of
his skin. The sound was not coming from the television but buried
somewhere deep in the ground. It was the sound of a woman screaming in
agony as her anal sphincter was ripped by the powerful single thrust
Dawson needed to finally rupture her. The scream continued for several
seconds, a blood-curdling scream that made the watcher look round
nervously for a moment. He knew there was no one else around to hear
the sound, but it was unnerving anyway. His gaze fell back on the
television screen and he could see the woman's chest was heaving with
her heavy breathing. She was still struggling against the rape, her
head momentarily twisting round to face the camera. With relish the
watcher saw the tears in her eyes and the sweat on her forehead. Dawn
was getting what he wanted her to get - a real seeing to.
Dawson was still gripping the woman's hips as he thrust his long cock
deep into her rectum. He set up a rhythmical stroking action, his hands
ensuring she did not move away from him or change the angle of entry he
desired.
The watcher was impressed with Dawson's control. For some five
minutes Dawson maintained the rhythmical pumping action of his cock in
the woman's slick, bleeding ass. All the time Dawson seemed fully in
control, relishing the power and the pain he was causing, yet not
needing the final culmination of pleasure.
The watcher at the window had his cock back in his hand.
Absent-mindedly he began stroking it again in time with what Dawson was
doing up the woman's ass.
After five minutes Dawson withdrew and disappeared from the scene for a
minute. Then another minute passed and the watcher at the window
remained mesmerised by the faint trickle of blood and ass-juice that
was trickling down the woman's spread  legs.
Too late he heard the crack of a twig directly behind him. As he
turned, the big, strong arms of a man pushed him to the ground.
Frantically scrambling to cover his cock by putting it back in his
pants, the watcher looked up into the eyes of one very angry-looking
Greg Dawson.
"Michael, what the fuck are you doing here?" Dawson exclaimed,
taking his boot off the man's chest. "Christ, you're supposed to
be in Australia or wherever."
"Yeah, I know. Things happened to change my plans so I thought I'd
see how far you'd got with your plans."
"Perfect. As you've no doubt seen, it's going down tonight."
"Yeah, I did catch some of the action. How did you know I was
here?"
"Easy. The whole place is wired and your presence here has been under
obs since you got here."
"But I was so careful!" Michael protested, the wounded victim.
"Not so careful as to check for the CCTV. There's  a camera up in
that tree watching everything that goes on round the bay window
area."
"Oh, shit. When did you first know I'd arrived?"
"About an hour ago."
"Oh shit."
"Look, worse than that, you've blown your alibi with the woman. You
should have told me your plans had changed and I would have delayed the
plan until I knew you were away."
"I'm not going away after all. I still wanted the bitch punished
but something has changed."
"What?"
"I decided to find out a bit about your lifestyle and, you know, I
quite like it. I even figured after you'd seen to Dawn I might try
and get back with her, on certain conditions of course."
"Of course, but your actions have changed everything. If she finds
out you are here she will be able to tie you back to me and that I
don't want to happen."
"I understand. So what do you suggest?"
"You leave now?" Dawson was firm but he knew it wouldn't be that
easy.
"Oh go on, let me enjoy just a bit more of this." Dawn was still
bent over, evidently sobbing as her ass continued to dribble blood.
"What do you want to do?"
"Watch you fuck the bitch and see how she reacts to you."
"I have a better idea. You go in there,  beat her a bit, whip her ass
and then you fuck her while I watch. Call it a training exercise."
"But she will recognise me, won't she?"
"Not if you wear a mask and don't speak too much."
"I didn't mean that. I'm more concerned that she might recognise
the way I hold her when I fuck her brains out."
"Don't hold her then. Also, with what she's been through I doubt
she's in much of a state to recognise anything."
"If you're sure."
"No I'm not sure and what you want to do is highly dangerous for
both of us, but as it's your cock that will be amputated if she ever
discovers who I am, I think the decision has to be yours."
Dawson helped Michael off the floor and twisted his free hand in the
same kind of motion you might use to break a chicken's neck and
wrench its head right off.
Michael Jopley got the message.
"Okay, my decision and I won't ever tell on you."
"Your choice but if you want to stay homo-intacta you better not. No
hard feelings (excuse the pun) but I have an image to protect."
Dawson led the other man back into the house.
"Where are you parked?" He asked.
"Down the lane in one of the pull-offs at the side."
"Okay, when you're through here you will go quietly away, get in
your car and disappear. Don't contact Dawn until tomorrow at
least."
"Okay. What do I do now?"
"Take this mask. It has a voice distorter in it and I'll take this
other one. You say nothing and stand back until I signal you to take up
position."
"Okay."
Dawson opened the door to the Chamber and both men passed inside,
immediately hearing the continued sobbing of the woman.
"Learned your lesson yet, bitch?" Dawson growled at her.
"Yyyy....yyyyessss," she sobbed.
"Good, because a bitch you are and an unfaithful one at that."
"Yyyy.....yes, if you ssss...say so," she agreed.
"Well, we need to be sure."
"Oh God, not more!" She pleaded with what little strength she had
left in her.
"Yes, more. I have to be sure you are going to be a faithful, dutiful
slut in future. I have to be sure you'll do exactly whatever any man
in your life wants from now on. Much as I like your slender young body,
I don't want to see you back here in the future, so I have to make
sure now."
Dawn was still bent over and buckled down and she could not see the
other man, Michael, standing behind her.
"I promise I will be dutiful and faithful," her voice sounded
authentic.
"Good. Now, your little ass is bleeding a bit and it looks a bit torn
and gaping, but you know, I didn't actually finish inside you. That
I've saved for the finale."
Dawson released her arms from the pole as he spoke. Dawn gratefully
straightened and made to turn round.
"No, keep looking ahead."
Dawn complied, either through fear alone or because she really did want
to be dutiful and obedient. Either way, Dawson was impressed.
She heard him manoeuvring something heavy behind her and in a moment
she felt something cold pressing against the backs of her spread-eagled
legs.
"Okay, now do as I say and you won't get hurt. Behind you is a
rack, a special, curved rack, which I use to stretch out my clients so
they are completely at my disposal. Lean back and let your back arch
over the drum." Michael shrank back into the darkness as Dawn moved,
but Dawson was blocking her view.
"Good," said Dawson, when her back was wrapped over the drum. He
took her arms and clipped the cuffs together, over her head he pulled
them and stretched them back down to the back of the rack. He secured
them to the stretching end of the device. Before he moved away he took
the blindfold out of his pocket and secured it in place around Dawn's
eyes so her world went dark again.
Dawn heard him moving round to her legs and then she felt the tug on
the pole as he clipped it to the base of the rack. She was now
stretched with an arched back over this strange device, secured top and
bottom and totally exposed with her sex and breasts totally vulnerable
and available to whatever Dawson wanted to do.
"Now, we just stretch you a little." Dawson smiled behind his mask
as he pressed the starter button on the control panel. A motor whirred
somewhere beneath and behind her and in a moment Dawn felt her arms
being pulled backwards and downwards behind her. When she was fully
stretched with her spine pressing hard against the curved rack, Dawson
stopped the machine.
Signalling to Michael to move silently into position between the
woman's legs, Dawson spoke loudly to drown out any possible noise
Michael might make.
"And now, you are going to be fucked - and hard fucked at that."
For a brief moment Dawn panicked. She knew Dawson was big and,
stretched as she was, she knew his forced entry into her over-used cunt
was going to be tight and painful. Dawn had climaxed that evening so
many times she knew she was dry and her juices had flowed so much she
was sure there would be no lubrication for this final assault.
She felt a hand on her labia. It felt strangely cold, clinically cold.
Then she felt the gel as it was rubbed into the entrance of her vulva.
The hand was firm, demanding, even forceful.
Dawn knew she could not resist what was gong to happen and, in any
event, she was too tired to. What had started out as a dinner date with
her new boyfriend had turned into a kidnap,  and massive sex ordeal at
the hands of some very weird stranger. Her body could do nothing but
cling to the arch of the rack as she felt something rigid pressing
against her labia.
In a moment the hot, rigid penis penetrated her lips and plunged its
way into her cunt. Dawn gasped with surprise as the cock filled her up.
With her back arched backwards it was a tight fit, and her already
well-spent G-spot was tender so the cock rubbing against it was
painful. The owner of the cock completed the initial thrust into the
woman and smiled behind his mask.
"Open your mouth," Dawson said, bringing instant shock to the
woman. He was standing directly behind her head! So who, Dawn
immediately wondered, had his cock inside her vulva!
"What the fuck?" She stammered with surprise.
"I said, open your mouth bitch," Dawson hissed through his voice
distorter.
"Hang on, if you're above my head who the hell is fucking me?"
"My assistant. Now do as you're told or we will start again."
Dawn knew better than to argue or complain. Her whole body ached with
the torture and the excesses of the evening. She opened her mouth even
as she craned forward in a desperate attempt to discover the identity
of the male who was raping her vulva.
His stroking action was solid and rhythmical but Dawn was far too far
gone to respond to the sensations.
"Put your head back," Dawson hissed. As she did so, in her darkened
world, Dawn could smell the musk of a male cock just a few inches from
her mouth.
"Oh God, please don't make me suck it," she pleaded.
"Suck it you will, and if you bite me I will whip your tits off
you." Dawson put his hand on her chin, tilting her head back further
until his mighty phallus was correctly aligned.
He lined the tip of his cock up with her mouth and thrust into her
slowly and firmly.
Dawn gagged slightly as the huge shaft filled her mouth completely. She
had never sucked a cock properly. Yes, a few short pecks from her lips
when she was at school and she'd even had one teenager shoot his wad
all over her face while she kissed his immature penis, but she had
never fancied the taste of a real cock in her mouth. Now, she had no
choice but to make the best of it.
Dawn opened her jaws as far as she could to accommodate the cock. The
shaft slid into her, touching the back of her mouth as Dawson pushed it
until he felt resistance. Then he pulled it back so the woman could
take a breath of air.
"Yuk," she commented as she gulped in the air past the tip of his
manhood. Then it was back inside her, not deeply this time, but now
Dawson set up a stroking action, his cock shaft clamped between her
lips. Her mouth was warm and moist and Dawson knew he did not need much
encouragement to climax.
He looked down her body to the sweating body of Michael. He was pumping
away with all the energy of a young man and Dawson envied him for it.
Two, three, four more strokes and Dawson felt the tell-tale twitch in
his cock.
"Take it all bitch or you will be tit-whipped."
Dawn felt the twitch of his manhood a moment before she tasted the
sticky white liquid that spurted deep into her mouth.
"Urrgggggghhhh!" She managed to cry out though Dawson's cock
shaft was now fully embedded in her mouth as he spurted his seed time
and again into the warm, damp orifice.
Dawn had little choice other than to adopt a swallowing action. She
really did believe he would whip her breasts if she spat out the
foul-tasting liquid.
As she swallowed, Dawson grunted his pleasures and the cock in her
vulva twitched as it too reached the end of its journey to pleasure.
The final thrust ground the man's body firmly against her freshly
shaved pubic mound, his cock shaft fully inserted in her body. He came
silently, a few twitches, the vague feeling of something hot spitting
out inside her and it was over. The cock was withdrawn and her pussy
lips patted none-too-gently by way of a thank-you.
Dawson's cock had been removed from her mouth and he had examined her
oral orifice to make sure there was no spunk left to dribble out.
"Okay," he said after she'd heard the door to the Chamber click
softly shut, "I'm gonna put you in the ante-room. There's a
shower in there and soap so you can clean up. Then you can sit down and
wait -  I won't be long."
"Are we done?"
"yes, for tonight. If I ever have cause to see you back here again
you will wish you were dead."
"I'd rather die than be brought back here. Tell me, though, who was
the other guy?"
"My assistant."
Dawson finished the process of releasing the woman from her bonds and
showed her to the little side room with the shower. She heard him lock
the door behind her. She turned, still a prisoner, to the shower. Where
were her clothes? What was she supposed to wear after bathing? Then she
started asking herself more questions. What happened back at the
lay-by? Where was Brad? Was he okay?  So many questions and no answers,
and the biggest question of all - what was going to happen to her
next?  She couldn't identify the guy who had raped, tortured and
abused her so badly but she hoped a glimpse of where he lived might
give the authorities a clue.
The water splashed over body, cleaning, soothing and relaxing her after
the ordeal. God her ass still stung! Both the cheeks and the ripped
sphincter. There'd be evidence inside her too. Though she'd had to
swallow one lot of cum juice, there was still plenty of DNA inside her
vulva.
Dawn smiled as she stepped out of the shower. She towelled off and
then, with nothing more to do, she sat down on the chair and waited.

***

Dawson left the ante-room and locked the door behind him. He went
upstairs and had a cup of tea while he gathered his thoughts. Michael
had changed things, and more so if he now intended to get back with
Dawn, albeit on different terms. Dawson flicked the channel on the TV
and a picture of Dawn showering appeared.
Michael had gone. The security system showed he'd left through the
front door a few minutes after leaving the Chamber. Dawson just hoped
that Michael had taken his advice and followed his instructions. Now,
he had to rapidly form a plan and hope it worked. It was nearly eleven
o'clock and the roads would be virtually deserted. To get Dawn back
to her flat was going to be tricky and to get her upstairs unnoticed
virtually impossible. There had to be an alternative. Then Dawson
smiled to himself - the perfect solution.

***

The door to the ante-room was unlocked and Dawn was on her tired feet
even before Dawson, once again wearing his mask, entered the room.
"All done," he asked affably.
"Yes, but I need some clothes to wear." Dawn sounded tired - she
was.
"Not so quickly. I'll bet you didn't wash out the insides, did
you?"
"Sorry, what do you mean?"
"I'll bet you didn't rim jet yourself nor shove the hose up your
cunt."
"No, must I?"
"Yes, we don't want to leave any evidence behind do we?"
"I hadn't thought of it."
"Really? Well I had!" Dawson sounded triumphant.
"Oh," Dawn sounded deflated.
"Right, back in the shower and bend over. I'll help you."
"I can do it," Dawn protested weakly.
"I don't think so. You had a chance and you blew it. Into the
shower."
Dawn obliged. She knew if she resisted he'd only take her back into
the other room for more pain, so she complied. With both feet on the
shower tray she bent over, opening her legs to give him access.
Dawson unscrewed the shower head and felt between her legs. The
threaded end felt rough as the tube was inserted a good six inches into
her sensitive vulva. There was no ceremony, just a ritual of cleaning.
Dawson turned the cold tap on and in a moment the cold water began
dribbling out of her sex. Dawn gasped at the coldness.
"It kills the little buggers," Dawson hissed through his voice
distorter. He pushed the hose in further and turned the tap full on.
Then he held it there for three minutes while the water poured out of
her body into the shower tray.
"That'll do for that entrance," he said as he turned the tap off.
He pulled the hose out and lined it up with her sphincter.
"Oh no, please don't, it's already torn and sore." Dawn pleaded
with no real hope of succeeding. She felt the cold metal push against
the torn muscle and it slid in easily. Clenching her buttock cheeks
more out of blind panic than anything, Dawn braced herself for the cold
flow.
Sure enough, when Dawson had fed about a foot of the hose into her
body, he turned on the tap. Dawn felt her rectum filling with the
water, a weird but not totally unpleasant sensation.
Dawson watched with amusement as Dawn struggled to keep the liquid
inside her.
"Turn it off, I can't take much more." She begged Dawson.
"Stand up," Dawson smiled behind his mask and stood back. As Dawn
stood, the inevitable happened. She unclenched her buttocks and the
water jetted out of her anus onto the shower tray. In a moment the
water turned clear, washing down and away the remains of her rectum and
the DNA evidence that may have been waiting there.
"No evidence left now," said Dawson as he turned off the shower a
few minutes later. "In fact, if I hear you've been talking to
anyone then I'll come and get you back for another session. And,
seeing as I have certain friends in the same Lodge as I'm in, I might
invite them a long too."
"You're a Mason?" Dawn stuttered.
"You're very knowledgeable and quick off the mark."
"You're a Mason?" She repeated with growing disbelief and dismay.
She know the police force was riddled with Masonic influence at almost
every officer level, and she knew if her captor was really part of the
system then she would get nowhere and he was sure to hear she'd been
talking.
"You said it," Dawson replied.
	Ten minutes later, Dawn was dried and dressed back in the same clothes
she'd been wearing when she'd set out for the meal with Brad. Where
was Brad? Was he okay?
"I wish I'd never split up with Michael now," Dawn said to
herself as she dressed. "I was so stupid to go behind his back.
I'll never do that again, never."
Dawson stood and watched as she fixed her attire.
"Five minutes and you'll be on your way back," he mumbled. He
fished in his pocket for something and in a moment had pulled out the
pad of cloth which he had earlier soaked in chloroform. He took the pad
and went up to Dawn.
"We can do this the hard way or the easy way," the disembodied,
distorted voice said softly.
"Must we?" Dawn looked at the mask. Nothing!
"Yes."
"Okay, do it the easy way."
The pad was placed over her mouth and nostrils and though her reflex
reactions fought what was happening, the struggle was brief as she
gracefully slid to the floor unconscious.
As a precaution, Dawson closed the door to the ante-room behind him and
went and changed back into his Brad outfit. Once suitably attired he
returned to the room, picked up the unconscious woman and bundled her
into his car. She lay there motionless as Brad set off on the short
journey back.
Back at the flat, he knocked at the front door until the old crone came
and answered it. Dawn was semi-conscious again and was slumped on
Brad's arm, as if drunk.
"Had too much to drink," Brad said in his disguised voice.
"Pardon," the old crone shouted.
"Had too much to drink," Brad yelled back.
"Bloody kids." She let him in.
Brad took Dawn upstairs, unlocked her flat door and propelled her
inside.
He undressed her slowly as she tried to help through her
semi-consciousness.
"Brad?" Her vice sounded unsure.
"Yes," said Brad carefully.
"Where are we? What happened? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. It's you who was knocking back the alcohol. Don't
you remember?"
"I feel awful. There was this guy who kidnapped me and raped me
and..."
"Shhhh, you've been dreaming bad things. All the way back in the
car, shouting out how much you wanted to fuck your fiancé again only
the bastard wanted you to do things you didn't like."
"Did I really?" She slurred.
"Yes. Now, you have to listen to me. Tonight was supposed to be a
special night. I had hoped we'd finally get it together but you put
paid to that. Getting drunk, showing me up in front of my associates
and friends - I call them that because I dine at that restaurant
often - and then going on how much you want your old fiancé and how
willing you'd be to do anything he wanted you to do. If I wasn't
such a decent chap I'd have left you to make your own way back. As it
is, I've got you back in your flat. What you do now is up to you,
because I've had enough of your antics. I think it would be best if
we don't see each other again as I've seen a side to you I really
don't like."
"If you say so," she slurred, still half-asleep. Dawson was glad
the alcohol he'd forced her to take when she was unconscious had
started to work on her.
"I do say so. Now, it's late and I've got a bed to get to."
"Sure you don't want to shack down with me," she rolled her arms
around drunkenly.
"No thank you."
Brad walked away from her, turned and left the flat for the last time.
Brad, as he walked away from the building, was consigned to the scrap
heap,  his mission accomplished.

***

"Greg," the voice on the phone was familiar. It was a month after
Dawn had met her demise and Dawson had been waiting for Michael to call
him.
"Hi, Michael, how are things going?"
"Just fine. I'm back with Dawn and she's totally changed. Does
everything I ask her to. She's just opened up so much and I'm so
grateful."
"What about her memory?"
"Reckons getting drunk and telling Brad what she really thought about
him was the best thing she ever did, apart from meeting up with me
again that is."
"Glad to hear it. Now, Michael, if you ever need my services again
- find someone else! To go through that again with Dawn would be too
risky."
"She did suggest a threesome sometime - her and two blokes- but
only if I didn't mind. You wouldn't be interested would you?"
"Michael," the telephone went dead as Dawson ended the
conversation.



THE END

    

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