DIARY OF A BONDAGE WHORE
I know I will be sold soon. Nathaniel has told me that he intends to get rid of me as soon as he buys a new slave-girl. He enjoys taunting me by imagining my new owner as a maniac who might decide to throw me off a cliff. In many ways, such a fate is preferable to the existence I endure as the source of Nathaniel's livelihood.
He seemed to get bored with me a few weeks ago. Usually he tries not to keep a girl for more than a couple of months, but I'm still his bondage whore after almost half a year. His customers keep telling him to keep me permanently, because they cannot get enough of my body, but Nathaniel tells them he needs new flesh. He reckons most customers feel cheated if they get the same girl every time they visit his house.
The house is nothing more than a shabby old shack on the edge of town. It is not a traditional brothel but rather a place where men with twisted minds pay a small fee to watch a girl being savagely abused by a brutal assailant. At the moment, the girl is me, but the assailant is always Nathaniel. Performing these sadistic role-play scenes has been his main career for the past two decades. Even now, at age fifty, he reckons he still has another ten years left in his body.
He keeps no more than one slave-girl at any one time. His preference is for blondes, young ones such as myself, with slim figures and blue eyes. I'm the youngest girl he has ever bought: he purchased me two days after my eighteenth birthday and stole away my virginity within minutes of bringing me to his shack. He's so old and ugly and horrible: a towering hulk of a man, with a huge belly and enormous hands. His penis is a ten-inch rod of gnarled gristle when it stands fully erect, but every night he shoves it inside my poor little pussy until I scream in pain.
My abode is a tiny room at the rear of the shack. It has no windows and only one door. From a bolt in the wall a black chain runs to an iron collar around my neck. Upon the floor is a filthy mattress, where I try to snatch some rest, and also an old bucket for my bodily needs. I'm always naked, except when Nathaniel dresses me for a performance.
Each evening I perform two depraved sex-shows for his customers. These men gather in the main room of the shack, usually nine or ten of them at any one time. They give Nathaniel a few dollars and he passes around a bottle of whisky. All the men stand around in a circle, waiting for me to be dragged from my room. Nathaniel always removes my neck-collar, but I'm far too scared to attempt an escape. Sometimes he washes me before the customers arrive, but usually he just lets me stay dirty and sweaty for a couple of days.
Each show lasts two hours. First, Nathaniel ties my wrists together at the front, before lifting my arms to suspend them from a hook in the roof-beam. My toes barely touch the floor: my body is stretched so taut that I can hardly breathe. At this point I'm usually wearing one of the cheap dresses that Nathaniel buys for a few cents. He begins the show by ripping this garment off my body, but in a very violent way. This gets the customers quite excited and whets their appetite for what comes next.
When I'm naked, with the dress lying in tattered shreds at my feet, my brutal master molests me. His big, rough hands crawl all over my quivering body, groping my bottom and squeezing my breasts. I detest the sensation of his slobbering mouth on my nipples, or on my lips. Even after six months as his slave I still squeal when he puts his tongue in my vagina or anus. These intimate assaults cease only when Nathaniel ravishes me with his disgusting penis. I get it in both holes, front and back, while the customers stand around making lewd comments. Some of these vile men like to masturbate while watching my body being subjected to cruel abuse.
Then the flogging commences. Nathaniel uses a variety of implements: a horsewhip, a three-tailed whip, a bamboo cane, a rubber hose, a police baton. All these things hurt like hell when he uses them on my skin. Often I get thirty or forty strokes from each device, until my body is covered in criss-crossing welts. These are mostly narrow streaks of pink or red, with a few bruises dotted between. During a typical show I receive at least a hundred lashes or strokes. The pain is sometimes unbearable, making me slip into unconsciousness, but Nathaniel knows several nasty ways to bring me back to life. Sometimes, when he rouses me out of a swoon, I wake up to find my body dripping with semen from a customer's ejaculation. Most of the men masturbate to orgasm at least once during a show, usually when I'm being whipped.
After the flogging I get screwed again, especially in my ass, by Nathaniel and some of the customers. These are the ones who pay extra, and in return they get to fuck me as many times as they want. The pain is matched only by an overwhelming sense of degradation, because the fucking is always accompanied by ass-fingering or shallow fisting. I hang there like a sacrificial beast, weeping and sobbing, while a group of leering men surrounds me. As soon as their two hours is ended, I get taken down by Nathaniel and injected with painkillers, which means I'm soon ready for the next performance of the evening.......
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Copyright Brendan X © 2006