Rape's Progress Part 14

by Sebastian X

Miss Theodora Throsbie, the sweet little blue-eyed blonde who had once taught accounting at the
night school I attended, made an excellent sex slave. She invariably begged me not to do
whatever I had set my mind on and, despite loud and tearful protests while I was pleasuring
myself with her, she nearly always reached a noisy juddering climax.

I had planned to keep the petite twenty-something year old in my boat-shed studio for only a
short time before surrendering her to my sister-in-law Kim. Kim was going to train Theodora for
her new role as concubine and financial adviser to a minor Middle Eastern sheik. Events in that
part of the world put the plan on hold and Kim was happy for the former lecturer in accountancy
to live at my place for a short time. Security wasn't a problem. Either I, or my occasional girl
friend, Charity, was with her most of the time. At first, when Theodora wasn't being used, she
was locked in the secure room cut from the native rock at the back of the boat-shed. Later, when
she became resigned to her fate, she became part of my little 'family'.

Theodora Throsbie had been a  member of the Purity League and one of the flock of a
fundamentalist church which preached no sex before marriage and nothing too exciting after. So
you could say that being pack raped and then subjected to a period of sexual servitude to a lusty
teen aged master and his libidinous girl friend was a liberating experience for which the little
teacher should be forever grateful. In time she may possibly agree.

Miss Throsbie had been engaged to be married to Gregory Goodman, a missionary saving souls
in the Congo. The day after I changed her life-motif from pedagoguery to pederasty, the world
heard via CNN of yet another inter-tribal war in Africa, during which the Bongolo Mission,
where Gregory labored, was reduced to ashes. The men had been made to watch as the
womenfolk were raped before all were impaled on sharpened stakes for the amusement of the
raiders. We had saved Theodora from a nasty (if not pointless) death. Judging by the fuss she
made when Charity first used a strap-on to sodomize her, Ms Throsbie would have been a very
noisy martyr.

Charity had once been in the same predicament as her catamite. She too had been chained naked
to my bed waiting for me to decide how long and with what instrument she was to be beaten
before being fucked. Despite her rough handling, or perhaps because of it, Charity had developed
a taste for submissive sex. She would squirm and wriggle her tight little tail whenever I picked
up a crop or a paddle. Her eyes would go big and misty and her juices would start to flow. When
her older sister, Hope, had joined us, Charity derived almost as much pleasure watching me
mount her sibling as when she was the sole recipient of my teenage lust. She eventually joined in
and became an enthusiastic collaborator in whatever sexual activity was afoot.

Charity showed that she was eager to join me in educating  Theodora in the ways of rough sex on
the very first night we three spent together. First she bathed our captive, dried her with a big soft
bath towel, and rubbed soothing oil into her sore backside and swollen pudenda.  I saw Theodora
tremble as Charity's nimble fingers caressed and probed her erogenous zones. I guess our victim
had never had another woman touch her like that before. When the little teacher was clean and
relatively comfortable, Charity allowed her to put on black, lace-topped stockings and red high-
heeled shoes before she marched her into the bedroom and sat my latest fuck toy on the big solid
bed. Charity was wearing a few strips of black leather and stainless steel rings under her wrap.
Theodora regarded her with alarm.

Charity popped velcro-fastened leather-cuffs on Ms Throsbie's wrists and attached a steel
spreader to her ankles. Charity tied Theodora's wrists to the bed head using stout cord. The
woman's  protests began to become strident but she went quiet after Charity threatened to gag
her. Charity next bound the spreader to the bed head close to the prisoner's wrists. In this position
Ms Throsbie could be easily entered both vaginally and anally, a fact she quickly realized as I
stripped off and knelt before her, laying my engorged prick between her widespread thighs. 

She had experienced my larger than average erection before but began to blubber and plead for
me not to rape her again. Her eyes grew even rounder and her protests louder as Charity took
hold of my cock and began to rub its head up and down the length of the proffered cunt, gently
parting the outer lips of Theodora's vagina and allowing lubricating juices to make her slick.

"Oh! God!" she wailed. "Please stop!!" But all the time she was getting wetter and more aroused
than a member of the Purity League should get under any circumstances, let alone when tied to a
bed and being raped! Poor Theodora! She so wanted to be a saint but her body insisted she was a
sinner.

I reached for her left breast and took the nipple between forefinger and thumb of my right hand. I
rolled it gently and felt my victim respond. Theodora whimpered and, without realizing what she
was doing, began to push against the steady but gentle pressure of my cock, which was being
rubbed up and down her cunt by Charity.

"I think she wants you inside," said Charity after a while, as she sensed the quickening tempo of
Theodora's breath and noticed the involuntary heave of her hips.

"No! No!" protested the little teacher. "Please ... don't ...Oh!!" 

Charity had to squeeze it into Theodora's narrow cleft.

Theodora began to sob in time to my steady pumping. I gradually increased both tempo and
depth of penetration. Her protest became one continuous "Nah...nah...nah!"

She squealed loudly as Charity took hold of her right breast and, rather roughly I thought, tugged
and pulled the nipple erect. Shortly after that Theodora's protests became animal grunts of
pleasure and soon she was rising, as best she could, to meet my deepening thrusts.

"Oh God! Don't! Stop!" became "Oh, God! Don't stop!" and she experience the first of the
night's noisy orgasms.

I continued to pound her upturned pudenda. I felt Charity's hand let go of the base of my cock
and saw her duck her head between Theodora's raised buttocks and my groin. I felt the tip of
Charity's tongue explore the base of my plunging cock and her soft lips caress my bulging
scrotum and my heavy balls, before I too came, flooding the helpless teacher with thick, warm,
semen.

She wept with shame and embarrassment as she twitched and moaned with pleasure!

Then it was Charity's turn with the strap on. 

                         *     *     *

Four weeks after I acquired Theodora the "Organization" called on the services of Kim and Co
for an unusual task. It was, we were told by the Accountant, who was our usual link with the
criminal group, "a very sensitive matter." He was a pompous little man who usually wore grey
and who seemed to enjoy his role as messenger of the gods. 

The accountant explained that Mr Black, one of the triumvirate who ran the criminal syndicate
had recently been deserted by his lover. Not only had Mr Black been thrown over but his former
paramour planned to marry within the week. Mr Black was extremely upset, said the Accountant.
He felt he had lost face and intended to wreak his vengeance on both the lovebirds. 

He wanted Kim to arrange the kidnaping of the pair after the wedding ceremony but before their
marriage had been consummated. Then, said the Accountant, licking his thin, dry, lips, they were
to be brought to the "dungeon" (a quaint name for Kim's stainless steel and ceramic-tiled
operating theater, part of the warehouse complex which housed Kim's little empire) where the
former lover was to observe as the newly wed spouse was to be grossly humiliated, both
physically and sexually! "To be specific," the accountant said, "Mr Black expects his former
lover to witness the 'rape and disfigurement of the vile seducer'. His words exactly."

"Mr Black has every confidence that you will perform this task to his satisfaction," said the
Accountant before going. "Please, let me emphasize, his former lover is not to be hurt, just made
to watch the utter degradation of the marriage partner. Mr Black would like an edited video tape
or DVD of the, er, 'honeymoon from hell' as he likes to call it. Something he can play to his
sweetheart after their enforced, if necessary, reconciliation."

Kim protested that it seemed unfair that the presumably innocent partner was to be made to
suffer physically while Mr Black's former paramour would merely witness the punishment. She
was about to suggest that the bride should also suffer a little but she was cut short by the
accountant.

"That is what Mr Black requires," he sniffed. "Please see to it."

When the Accountant had gone I told Kim that I was prepared to organize the abduction of the
happy couple but felt I lacked the necessary aptitude for what was wanted by the vengeful Mr 
Black. Homosexual rape and torture was not something I felt competent to deal with. Of course, I
assured Kim, if Black had wanted his girlfriend fucked until she dropped I would have been
happy to oblige but, as I understood what the Accountant was saying, she was only to watch
while the poor sod who had married her was to be, literally, screwed. Kim said she understood
my point of view but the Turk called me a "wuss" and some other names and announced he
would be delighted to star in Black's video as the Dungeon Master. He said he would get a kick
out of giving the new husband all sorts of what for. I was glad that he wanted the role.

The abduction, which I organized, was a piece of cake. The marriage was conducted in the
Botanic Gardens by a Wedding Celebrant. The reception was held in a nearby hotel which
catered for that sort of thing. No family was present and only a few friends. By paying twice what
was required in compensation I  persuaded the limo driver, hired to take the newlyweds to the
airport, that his job had been canceled . Then, dressed as a chauffeur and driving one of Kim's
suitable vehicles, (with white ribbons attached from the upper corners of the windscreen to the
winged victory atop the radiator) I waited until they climbed aboard. The mini-bar was stocked
with champagne, beer and Vichy water, all liberally spiked with the date-rape drug. Both bride
and groom were asleep before I had driven half way to Kim's warehouse complex.

The bride (Mrs Smith, nee Samantha Goodbodie)  was not the stereotype "gangster's moll" I half
expected. She looked no more than twenty years old. Her hair was black and she was short and a
tad plump. He, Bruce Smith, looked a bit like a young Mick Jagger - raddled  - but blonde,
stocky and at least ten years older than his bride. They were still unconscious, his long blonde
locks tastefully arranged on her bosom, when I handed them over to Kim and the Turk. 

While the couple were still dopey I leant a hand in preparing them for their ordeal in Kim's
"dungeon". I helped Turk undress Bruce and shackle him to Kim's stainless steel "hitching rail".
This is a sturdy frame, equipped with tie points and spring clips. It is set over a sunken drain in
one corner of the tiled torture chamber. There was no chance the poor sod could get away once
we had fastened him to the rail. But Turk, "in the interests of security" he said, fastened a thin
cord around the bridegroom's scrotum, led it through a block in the center of the drain and made
the end fast to a collar strapped tight around the man's neck. I could see that when the Turk
began his treatment of the captive the wretch would be unable to lift his head without risking
castration.

While the Turk and I had been seeing to the groom, Kim had attended to the bride. The young
woman was strung up by her wrists a few feet from the hitching rail. When she came to she
would have a grandstand view of her new husband's humiliation. Kim had dressed her in a
shocking pink teddy, with stockings to match and a floral headpiece with veil. She's also found
some long white bridal gloves. "Should look good in the video," she said.

 The couple were only just recovering their wits as I bade my farewells. The Turk was debating
whether to start with electric shocks or something more personal.

                         *     *     *

I knew something was wrong the next morning. I was preparing a leisurely breakfast of bacon,
eggs and mushrooms. I was still in my shorts. I'd just finished spearing Theodora to the mattress
to the usual accompaniment of pleas for mercy followed by great sobs of gratified desire - over
four weeks training had transformed the little teacher into a compliant sex toy, resigned to her
fate and happy to be of service - when the phone rang. It was Kim. I was ordered to get to the
Warehouse straight away. 

"Forget breakfast. Be quick!" she said. "This is an emergency!" She sounded worried.

When I arrived I was met on the jetty by the Turk. His normal swarthy features looked pale and
he was unusually polite as he took the runabout's painter and made it fast to a cleat. He
accompanied me to the control-room in the cell block where Kim and the Accountant were
viewing the video Kim had made for the vengeful Mr Black. Kim looked grim and the
accountant was as grey as his suit.

"We have a problem, Sebastian," Kim said. "It seems that Mr Black is gay!"

On the video monitor she used for editing I could see the Turk in action. The groom was
screaming and weeping while his pink clad bride watched in wide-eyed horror as the naked
torturer swung a thick leather whip that the Turk called a bull's pizzle..

"Oh!" I said. "So that's ..."

"Bruce," muttered the Turk.

"Black's boyfriend," said Kim.

"Who wasn't to have a hair on his head hurt in any way!" said the Accountant.

I noted that he didn't have any hair on his head and guessed that the Turk had decided to barber
his victim in addition to the other humiliations.

"I have played back a recording of the meeting at which Mr Gray gave us Mr Black's
instructions, Sebastian. As you know we assumed ..." continued Kim.

"Everyone knows that Black is a homosexual! Common knowledge!" snarled the Accountant,
interrupting Kim's quiet account of the disaster.

"Not everyone," she replied calmly. "I didn't, the Turk didn't and Sebastian certainly was under
the impression that the woman was the runaway, as the recording of the meeting and it's
aftermath demonstrates. I'm afraid, Mr Gray, that your instructions were not clear. The mistake is
yours."

The Accountant shook his head.

"Well," I said, in a cheerful voice. "What can we do to clear up the mess? I can give the woman a
good tanning and then fuck her witless. Kim can make it look horrendous on the video.
Meanwhile the Turk and our friend the Accountant can do what they can to repair the damage to,
er, what's his name?"

"Bruce," said Turk, "And it won't work."

"Why not?" I asked.

"Because Mr Gray, the  Accountant, was so anxious to show his efficiency that he delivered the
first copy of the DVD to Mr Black first thing this morning, without having the wit to preview the
damn thing!" said Kim spitefully.

"Spoilt his breakfast, I'll bet!" I joked in a vain attempt to lift the gloom. No one laughed.

There was a bleak pause.

"So, what happens now?" I asked.

"Mr Black, Mr White and Mr Green are at present in conference," said Mr Gray, clearing his
throat.  "They have heard my testimony and have listened to Miss Kim's explanation. When they
have reached a decision on what action they intend to take they will inform us."

"The three of them run the Organization." explained Kim. "On past performance they'll want
blood and massive compensation. His blood, I guess!" S he jerked her thumb at the Accountant
who looked as though he was going to weep. "The devil knows what they'll demand from us!"

"We'll soon know," said the Turk indicating a monitor which showed two limos arriving at the
back door of the warehouse. Four bodyguards jumped out of the leading vehicle and escorted two
black suited gentlemen from the second limo to the secure entrance. Kim, who had moved
quickly when she saw the motorcade, met them as they entered the warehouse and escorted the
group of six into the elevator, then up to the control room where we waited.

The two suits sat at the head of the table. Their entourage stood behind them. The Accountant
started to say something but was silenced by a gesture from the older of the two executives. He
was a white haired old man who I was sure I recognized. He was the first to speak.

"There have been developments," he said, looking very solemn. "It is with regret that I tell you
my friend and colleague, Mr Black, has passed away."

Kim hissed involuntarily.

"Heart attack."  Said the white haired old boy. He looked around the table. His gaze fixed on the
Accountant. 

"Dead! His demise brought on by your incompetence," - he gestured towards Mr Gray - "and
his," - he pointed to the Turk - "sadistic treatment of Bruce Smith."

"I really must ..." began the Accountant.

"Silence!" bellowed the younger executive. "You will listen to what Mr White has to say. Not
another word until he has finished!"

Mr White nodded to his associate and continued.

"In many ways Black's death removes some problems which confronted the Organization. It is
no secret that his infatuation with Smith was regarded by myself and Mr Green as potentially
counter productive. His instructions to Gray, regarding the kidnap and torture of the young
couple, were not authorized by the Triumvirate, nor would we have sanctioned such a risky, and
profitless, endeavor. Nevertheless, it is to your credit, Miss Kim, and you, young man," - he
nodded at me - "that the snatch was performed without flaw."

Kim visibly relaxed. I grinned at the old boy. I'd just remembered where I'd seen him. He
featured in one of the tapes I had liberated from Zac and Cyril's pad. He's been tied to a bar and
obliged to watch the randy louts rape his mistress while threatening him with emasculation. Kim
had returned the tape to him without comment. No wonder he thought highly of her and yours
truly.

"On the other hand, Gray, you should have reported Black's intentions to us before
commissioning the deed and you," - he turned his stern gaze on the Turk - "took too much
pleasure in what was, to my eyes, a disgusting and perverse task."

The Turk shrugged. "I did what I was told." he muttered.

"Which is why your miserable life will be spared." commented Mr White.

Mr Green took this as his cue to pronounce sentence on us all. 

"Miss Kim, in order to avoid this sort of conflict of interest in future, the Organization has
decided to absorb your various enterprises. You will be financially compensated for the loss of
this warehouse, its contents and the various businesses you have created as cover for your white
slaving and other, related, activities. Given the downturn in trade during the past few months you
will, I am sure, be happy to accept our generous offer." He scribbled a figure on the back of a
business card and pushed it towards Kim.

Kim nodded and smiled.

"Mr Gray, when you have handed over your accounting duties to your successor you will be, er,
retired. Until then you will be confined to the Administration Building in the city."

Gray went white and couldn't stop shaking.

"Turk, you will continue to work and reside here! You are to ensure that Bruce Smith is treated
for his injuries. He will be your responsibility entirely. Your new employer will be appraised of
the fact. When Smith has recovered enough to do without your care he will be given the
opportunity to inflict on you the pain and suffering you visited on him."

Turk shrugged.

"Sebastian, you come out of this unfortunate incident, smelling of roses .The kidnaping of the
Smiths was a tactical masterpiece. So few involved. Such economy of effort. Such elegance."

I smiled and nodded.

"However your efficiency has resulted in the death, albeit inadvertently, of a member of the
ruling council of the Organization. Under the circumstances we can no longer employ you. As
Ms Kim's business will now be run by the Organization you are unemployed."

I thought, "At least I'm all in one piece" when Mr White chipped in.

"We have decided that you deserve something for your past efforts on our behalf," he said.

"We will fund your attendance at university. We suggest you read law, you have some of the
qualities of a good attorney.  In addition you may keep the boat-house apartment."

"Thank you," I said.

There was more talk, mainly administrative detail. Nothing was going to happen overnight so I
suggested that I took the new Mrs Smith under my wing until the new arrangements were in
place and asked to be excused.

I wrapped the trembling woman in a warm blanket for our trip up the harbor in my aluminum
runabout. As soon as we were home I introduced her to Theodora and Charity who were whiling
away the morning with a game of Pirates and Schoolgirls ( it's a variation of Pirates and Nuns
played when they run out of good habits). Theodora, after four weeks training with me and
Charity, had abandoned most sexual inhibitions and found the prospect of deflowering a newly
wed bride quite exciting. They admired her pink bridal outfit and while I was cooking myself a
large late breakfast of ham and eggs they tried to comfort her with gentle caresses and soothing
massages of a sexual nature.

Mrs Samantha Smith was, if anything, even more tense when they brought her to me in the
bedroom. It's not often a young lad like me gets to fuck a bride before her husband has enjoyed
the privilege and I made the most of the opportunity. She, having recently seen the minuscule
tassel sported by Bruce (and Turk's not so big dong), was aghast at the sight of my post-breakfast
erection. Big at the best of times, it must have seemed enormous by comparison.

They spread her on the bed, each taking a pink-stockinged ankle. I stroked her firm white breasts
and nibbled each rosy nipple. She was weeping and begging me to "have mercy" (honestly!) as I
positioned my prick and drove into her in one smooth, strong, movement. The foreplay the girls
had indulged in had moistened her a little but she was still a tight squeeze. As I settled into a
steady rhythmic in and out, Charity and Theodora let go her ankles and joined in the fun.
Theodora kissed her neck and lips while Charity managed to force two fingers up the bride's
rectum.

Samantha stopped screaming before I climaxed inside her. She was exhausted.

End RP 14
