By Louetta

This is a little different but some people like it. It's not complete 
because I came before I finished it and never got back to it. This is
clearly a fantasy. Most of my stuff is pretty much based on reality.

The horse. The special horse I had custom designed. The girl I would 
torture would be stood against the post, her arms pulled up over her 
head, her hands drawn behind the post. Above her was a metal ring and 
through the ring ran a length of chain and to the ends of this chain 
her wrists were manacled. Then her legs would be spread wide, each 
foot chained to the small platform on either side a foot above the 
floor. 

Then the guards would be dismissed and there in the flickering 
firelight she would be mine. Slowly I would strip her naked. Gently I 
would caress her soft skin. Skillfully I would bring her nude body to 
that point of pleasure only love can bring. Then I would stop. Then I 
would choose the implement. A metal rod a foot and a half long, 
perhaps smooth, perhaps saw toothed, possibly with a single 
protruding spike. I would insert it into the hole in the post to 
which the girl was chained, into the strategically placed hole 
visible just below the pink lips of her sex, which only moments ago I 
had gently stroked. 

Then I would begin, a quarter inch at a time, 
slowly, ever so slowly to lower the small platforms on which she 
stood. Slowly, ever so slowly, unable to close her legs, the metal 
rod beneath her cunt would press harder and harder into the soft wet 
flesh. At first she could relieve the pressure simply by standing on 
her toes. But soon the stress of standing on tiptoe would require her 
more and more to drop down just enough for the cold steel to impinge 
on her warm, moist flesh. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, the platforms would 
drop further and then her toes would no longer reach the little 
platforms. Now it would be necessary for her to pull herself up by 
the wrists to keep the weight of her body off the cruel device that 
threatened the tender tissue between her thin brown thighs. Finally 
the platforms would drop far enough so that only the strength of her 
arms and shoulders would keep her from the cruelest torture a girl 
can undergo. Finally her arms would weaken and her full weight would 
press her soft pink slit against the unforgiving metal. I would watch 
her nubile body writhe in agony, hear her scream for mercy, offer her 
occasional respite only to let her descend again into the hell that 
only torturing a girls' most delicate parts can provide. 

And all this 
time I would be before her, with easy access to her naked body, 
listening to her pleas for mercy, watching her suffer, til she was 
stretched full length, the cuffs that held her wrists cutting her 
flesh til thin lines of blood snuck down her forearms, her arms and 
shoulders straining under the weight of her body, the sweat dripping 
from every pore, lily white breasts shining in the near darkness, the 
down covered muscles of her sun browned stomach straining to pull her 
cunt off the cruel beam between her thin brown thighs, her taut 
girlish bottom, snow white in the dark, clenched against the horrible 
pain only inches away, her long tanned legs spread wide, straining to 
reach the platforms just inches out of reach. 

And I alone would 
witness this inviting spectacle, eagerly watching and enjoying every 
second of her agony as her ordeal progressed, slowly, painfully, as 
she was stretched to the limit of her endurance and, perhaps, if she 
were not particularly strong, or, simply if I desired it, beyond that 
limit. And finally she would either relent or she would slip into 
unconsciousness. And if she relented I would have my way with her 
under happier circumstances, with her simply spread eagled naked on 
my bed, wrists and ankles tied to the four corners while I took my 
pleasure with her helpless nude body, again and again and again. And 
if she would not relent her torture would continue. Again and again. 
Until she did relent. Or until she died. 

I caught my breath as Kelly was led in. She was just as beautiful 
today as on the first day I had seen her. Perhaps more so. Her blond 
hair pulled back tightly on her head. Clad only in the short black 
shift traditional for all those destined to be tortured. The short 
black shift I would soon rid her of, that barely covered the small 
delicate breasts, the tight, thinly muscled stomach, the narrow hips, 
the slender down covered legs. 

Underneath, I knew, she wore only the 
thin perfunctory white cotton panties issued to all prisoners, which 
would soon be the last item that separated me from the pleasures of 
her body. Separated me from her flossy loins, the thin blond ramp of 
hair that pointed the way to the garden of delight that lay between 
her legs. The garden of delight which would be mine one way or 
another, either in the torture chamber or the bedchamber. Barefoot, 
her thin white, lightly muscled legs shimmering in the glow of the 
fire. Her wrists were bound tightly together behind her back. 

She 
shivered noticeably as the guards led her to the post to which she 
would be bound. Shivered, whether from fear or the cold, dank air of 
the torture chamber I could not tell. I drank in the loveliness of 
her body, barely hidden by the threadbare garment that hung limply 
from the spaghetti straps just above her breasts. Indeed she was more 
appealing than ever before, her already spare young body thinned all 
the more by her captivity. Her nipples, so hard they shown like 
beacons through the spare fabric that barely covered her breasts, 
betrayed the growing fire in her loins, the fire every girl felt who 
was bound, helpless, about to be tortured. The fire that was kindled 
when the guards came to her cell to find her clad only in her little 
shift and barely there panties, that was fanned when they bound her 
wrists behind her and led her to the torture room and which grew 
hotter as she confronted the scene in which she would be tortured. 

A month ago I had asked her to be my lover. She had declined. A day 
later I asked again, more insistently, again she declined. A day 
later I threatened her if she continued to refuse me, again she 
declined. A day later she was arrested and each day since, as she lay 
in the dungeon, fed bread and water, half frozen in the dank cell, 
chained to a rude metal bed, she declined. And now it was necessary 
to take more drastic steps. Strip that luscious body that I burned 
for naked as the day she was born, chain her to a post, ask her once 
more to submit and, if she refused, which I knew she would, torture 
her in the cruelest way a girl can be tortured. Torture her naked 
body, slowly, gradually, inch by inch, until she promised me what I 
wanted. Her body, naked, her lily-white breasts, nipples hard as 
rock, thin brown legs spread to reveal the silken lips that guarded 
the moist young cunt I craved. That same naked body I would now 
torture. 

And so she stood, silent in front of the device upon which 
she would suffer. Slowly I would strip her. Slowly, gently, I would 
introduce myself to every inch of her tantalizingly naked young body. 
For the first hour I would introduce her to all the pleasures that 
her nakedness could provide and, if she continued to resist me, then 
it would be necessary to subject my alluring blond captive to all the 
agony that that beautiful body endure. I watched as they prepared 
her. To her credit she showed no sign of fear, no sign of resistance 
against what she must know was inevitable. 

It took them a minute to 
adjust the chains and the platforms to her height but soon they were 
ready and her wrists, tied to this point tightly behind her, were 
unbound. For a moment she stood there, staring at the instrument of 
torture before her, rubbing her wrists where she had been bound. 
Soon, I thought, her wrists would pain her indeed. I watched in 
silence as they turned her around and backed her up til her taut 
young behind pressed against the post. Then they bid her raise her 
arms over her head, then roughly they drew her wrists behind the post 
and affixed the manacles attached to the chain from which she would 
soon hang suspended. 

She made no protest but I heard her sob softly 
as they spread her legs wide and lifted each foot up onto the 
platform to which it would be chained, arms straight above her head, 
legs at the prescribed sixty degree angle that would offer maximum 
exposure of the soft white flesh of her inner thighs and the tender 
pink lips of her sex to the attentions that were to come. There was a 
pause and she stood there helplessly, her delicate body silhouetted 
against the harsh brown oak of the post, her chest heaving slightly, 
beads of sweat beginning to gather on her brow, the soft down that 
coated her arm pits beginning to glisten. 

She knew what was to come. 
The effect on her tempting young body was palpable. Bound nearly 
naked, legs spread wide, surrounded by virile young guards, about to 
be tortured, torture she surely must know would be administered while 
she was completely nude, she felt the warmth of desire in her bosom, 
the hardness of her nipples, the heat rising in her groin, the 
moisture in her cunt. Her soft white breasts heaved slightly, her 
agile white rump contracted involuntarily, her thighs parted 
imperceptibly. She could see the guards eye her slender young body 
hungrily. Then I spoke and the guards abruptly departed. 

I was alone with the young woman whose body I craved. I moved closer 
to her. Close enough so she heard me and turned her head in my 
direction. The room was dark except for the four small torches that 
surrounded my sweet victim, casting her helpless body in an eerie 
glow. But despite the dark she knew me.

"It's you," she said shakily.

"Yes, it's me," I answered softly. 

For five minutes we neither said nor did anything. She stood chained 
to the post, shivering in the cold, shivering in the brief little 
shift that covered her only from the middle of her dear sweet breasts 
to the bottom of her soft white ass. Every so often she let out a 
barely audible sob. Every so often she pulled against the chains that 
bound her securely to the device upon she would soon writhe in naked 
agony in a world that for a few glorious hours would consist of only 
me and her. 

As time passed I could see she was truly frightened. 
Occasionally her head turned from side to side, her glorious young 
bottom, ground into the hard wood of the post beneath her. 
Desperately she tried to force her sun-tanned thighs together. The 
thin gloss of sweat on her forehead coalesced into small droplets 
which ran slowly down the sides of her temples. The soft skin between 
her breasts glowed with moisture, her underarms glistened. High up 
between her thighs the edges of her panties moistened with sweat and, 
in the middle of that thin wisp of fabric which hid the wonders of 
her pink little slit, the first moist traces of the growing fire deep 
in her tender loins soiled the undergarment that I would soon remove. 
I moved closer to her.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked.

"You know why I'm doing this. Because I want to. Because I want you. 
I want your body. I want you lying naked beside me, I want to drink 
in the loveliness of your naked body. The glory of your bared 
breasts, your soft velvet stomach, your thin brown thighs, the moist 
pink pleasures of your pussy. I want all of you to myself."

"Never!"

"Not never. Perhaps not right now, but not never. Soon. Soon I'm 
going to have you. When you endure what I'm going to do to you if you 
do not let me have you you soon will."

"Never, I'll die first!"

"Well, we have to consider that possibility." 

"What are you going to do to me?"

"Why I'm going to torture you. Strip you naked, enjoy the pleasures 
of your body against your will and then torture you. Torture you til 
you scream for mercy. Every naked inch of you. But especially those 
naked inches that make you a girl, between those virgin thighs spread 
wide apart to offer me easy access to the tenderness of your moist 
young pussy, the moist young pussy you will soon relent and freely 
offer me. Only a girl can truly torture another girl. Only another 
girl can truly know what a girl feels when she is brought into the 
torture chamber, when she is bound and helpless, when she is stripped 
naked and, finally when her most private parts are tortured, over and 
over again, tortured until she relents. As you will. After awhile." 

Then slowly I approached her, the helpless girl who awaited me alone 
in the glow of the fire. Deep in my dungeon where no one could hear 
her scream, no one would know just what was done to her and how much 
I made her suffer. As I stepped next to her she began to tremble 
slightly, now certainly with fear. Desperately she tried to free 
herself, her body twisting to and fro, her wrists and ankles pulling 
against the chains that held her fast. Finally she surrendered to the 
inevitability of her fate and stood still. She had broken out into a 
cold sweat. Traces of moisture shown on her forehead, her neck, under 
her arms, down her chest and on the inside of her thighs. She felt 
the dampness where her shift lay softly against her bare breasts, her 
tummy, above her bottom and between her legs. I stood in front of her 
and slipped my right hand up the front of her shift and hooked my 
fingers in the waistband of her threadbare white panties. "Now we 
must begin. Now I must have you naked." And slowly I started to 
remove her clothes.


  
kelly