Clit torture stories

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How much she can take — 2 by Cortez. All rights reserved Posted July 31st, Susan screamed as the two soldiers gripped her wrists, wrenching her arms away from her body. Holding her easily with one hand apiece each man reached under her body and took a nipple between forefinger and thumb, pinching cruelly so she screamed again, writhing and fighting as they walked her back to the chair and forced her to bend over the back once again.

The screams became a mad gabble of desperation as Susan suddenly realised that both Corporal Mutu and Kipengi Clit torture stories naked. The two men just stood there, Kipengi with his arms folded, grinning at her. Each man was hard and erect, just waiting for the guards to hold her in position. He clenched his hand in her short hair and turned her head up. Another agonised gasp was forced from the girl as the two soldiers holding her pinched her nipples harder, twisting the sensitive peaks flesh as a reminder of her total helplessness.

Her mouth gaped in a wide O as she felt the thick bulb stretching the opening of her vagina. She panted her breath racing in dread anticipation as he drew back a little then…. Despite the gripping hands and the cruel fingers wrapped in her hair, Susan Brown still managed to arch forwards hard enough to make the chair scrape across the polished boards as the thick, black shaft slid deep into her body stretching her vagina unbearably.

She screamed again and again as the big man drew back before thrusting forwards; each stroke impaling her with the Clit torture stories length of his cock until the mat of harsh, wiry hair at his groin scraped and scratched against the raw weals lacing her bottom cheeks.

Kipengi let him fuck her for a minute or so then twisted his hand to bring her mouth round until his cock was just touching her lips once more. With his other hand he guided his penis between her lips and slowly pushed forwards.

He looked at the two men. Susan writhed and struggled uselessly as the two grinning guards bent her arms round behind her back. At first there was even some relief that the horrible pinching fingers had let her nipples go…until she felt the new, throbbing pain building up as the blood flowed back in their bruised and swelling tips. One of the men easily held her wrists whilst the other pulled a white nylon fastener from his pocket.

The loop was positioned just above her elbows and then yanked tight, wrenching her arms together. The big black Corporal was rocking to and fro in a driving, relentless rhythm; digging his fingers into each flank, jolting her against the chair back with every thrust.

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His hands, working like an expert rider using the reins, moved her head from side to side, guiding her so that she gave him the most intense pleasure with the frantic wriggling movements of her tongue against the full length of his penis as it slid deep into her throat and back again. Susan choked uncontrollably, retching as her mouth filled with warm, sticky cream, spurting again and again. Jonas Kipengi tightened his grip in her hair, enjoying the feeling of her mouth and tongue working against the length of his cock as she struggled for air.

Finally the sensations became too much and he twisted her head back so just the slippery glans nestled between her lips. He let her breathe for a few moments, watching disinterestedly as she gasped and hacked uncontrollably, her mouth slack and dribbling trails of semen and saliva onto the polished floor. The gasps slowly changed their tone; desire and need changing pain into pleasure for a few short moments. She tried to respond to the maddening slippery friction in her cunt; tried to bring on her own climax as she felt the big man jerking violently on the brink of coming.

Like his master, once finished he simply walked away leaving her bent across the back of the wooden chair. Before she could straighten up the two guards were Clit torture stories, their black, naked bodies forcing her down again; one held her by the back of the neck whilst the other rammed the thick meat of his own cock into the already wet and slippery opening of her vagina. Almost immediately, her screams of outrage and frustration was again reduced to slobbering, liquid noises as another hot, hard cock filled her mouth.

Jonas Kipengi watched in amusement the sight of the tanned figure of the white girl once more bucking and straining between two gleaming black bodies as they rammed into her without mercy. The two men watched the girl being fucked relentlessly for a couple of minutes enjoying the taste of the stolen whiskey. The soldier fucking her mouth suddenly pulled the wet glistening length of his cock free and twisted her head to one side. Like the Corporal had done earlier he wrapped his fingers round the shaft, masturbating furiously as he held the head of his cock pointing at her face.

The three watching men grinned at the words; enjoying the sight of her breasts swinging and bouncing as she wriggled madly. The chair chattered and danced against the polished boards as she tried to force herself back even deeper onto the thick, black shaft. He pulled up on her pinioned arms and grinned into the sweating face of his friend. Her hair caressed the soft weight of his testicles and her sweat-soaked skin slid deliciously against the half-hard length of his cock.

He milked the last few drops from the slit, stood up and laughed then brought his hand round to land a smacking crack across her bottom so the girl bucked and squealed as he walked away. The guard astride her neck held her easily then leaned back, twisting her arms against her shoulder ts so she was stretched even more tightly over the chair back as Corporal Mutu stretched and padded over idly flexing the slim rattan rod between his thick fingers. Garrrrrgh…nooooo…naaa-aaaah…pl-pl-pl-please…nooooo…no more…aaargh! Jonas Kipengi stretched, took another sip of whisky and a long, luxurious drag on his cigarette.

After each stroke he waited…letting the heat and pain build up to a maximum before slicing the whippy rod across again. Now the big Corporal took his time…waiting for the convulsions to stop before striping two more agonising weals right into the cleft of her buttocks. Jonas Kipengi looked at his watch. Hood her then Clit torture stories her into the back of the car. As she doubled forwards the two of them dragged her out and down the steps to the dirt road. Susan Brown was bundled into the open trunk of one of the waiting, black Mercedes and the lid slammed shut. A few minutes of shouted Clit torture stories and instructions then doors slammed, engines revved and wheels scrabbled for traction on the dirt road as the convoy spent off into the midday heat haze.

Behind them a few papers fluttered in the dirt; inside the house wreckage and shattered possessions littered every surface.

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The journey to the compound took half an hour; five minutes after that she was standing in the glare Clit torture stories the lights in the hot, stinking chamber. Jonas Kipengi casually flicked her head to one side and turned to the two guards standing behind her. Susan grunted at the pain of returning circulation as her arms came free and she was able to bring them in front of her body.

She covered her breasts with her arms as she rubbed the angry, blood-flecked purple weals above each elbow. Under the lights, so bright that the rest of the underground room was in dim shadow, the central area was bare. As her vision Clit torture stories and desperate not to look towards those grinning, watching faces behind the lights, Susan looked round, peering at her new prison.

The floor was just smooth concrete, once painted red but now worn to patchy grey, empty apart from two simple, crudely made pieces of interrogation equipment. Just beside the quivering girl was a pair of short, horizontal bars set parallel with each other about three feet apart. Each bar was three inches wide and some two feet long and mounted on top of two thick upright posts bolted into the concrete so they were just below waist height. Straps dangled from near the ends of each bar… heavy, leather straps that looked battered and stained from long use.

A little to one side of the straddling bars, there was a single four feet high metal pole sticking up vertically from the concrete floor. A short length of angle iron was crudely welded to the top, edge uppermost so it formed an inverted V. She shuddered, only too Clit torture stories aware what kind of use could be made of such a device. For a moment she thought he meant the angle iron saddle but the men pushed her across to the bars. Her frantic efforts to struggle and resist ended almost immediately.

Lashing out at the guard on her left she smashed her right foot against the base of one of the posts. Distracted by the agony in her toes it was easy for the men to lift her so she was kneeling astride on the bars. She twisted and wriggled in vain as the men tightened the straps behind her knees to hold her in place. Susan writhed and yelled, her voice ringing round the room as they tightened the ankle straps before cinching each buckle up yet another hole until the toned, tanned flesh bulged out round the black leather, clamping her shins against the rough timbers, her thighs splayed wide so the moist pink slit of her genitals gaped obscenely.

One of them pulled the nylon band another notch tighter so the flesh bulged over the thin white strip while the other knotted a rope between the bound wrists and threw the other end over a beam a little way in front of the bars. They both walked away and she knelt back on her thighs, terrified at what was going to happen next. Suddenly, the rope snapped taut and her arms were jerked up…and Susan Brown realised that she knew all too clearly what was happening next. There was no response to the frantic pleas as the nineteen year old was stretched up and forwards until her torso hung at an angle over the floor in front of the bars.

The hollows of her armpits and the concave arc of her rib cage showed in taut, toned relief whilst the firm cones of her breasts with their shiny, tight swollen tips swung free, jiggling and bobbing with every tiny movement of her body. Kipengi smiled in the darkness as he watched her staring down, peering at each dangling breast in turn, trying to lift herself, wriggling and flexing to try and ease the vicious cramping pains in her arms.

Kipengi nodded knowingly as she craned to look down between her arms, just like they all did, to look back down at the splayed fork of her body and the way she was strapped down on the bars. His fingers twined in her short hair and wrenched her head back while she gasped and whimpered in the aftermath of the shock. Corporal Mutu buckled the nylon strap round the back of her head; looked at her and pulled it tight, wedging her jaws apart. Satisfied, he patted her lightly on the cheek and moved back to the shadows as his boss walked up to the gobbling, dribbling figure straddled on the bars.

Susan Brown stared back, eyes wide with a mixture of fury and growing terror. Her breath hissed and bubbled in her nose as she tried to calm her racing breathing.

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He stuck one finger into the black hole of the gag and wriggled it round then turned to the men beyond the lights. They use them to stop patients biting when things have to be put down their throat. Her head shook so hard that saliva and droplets of sweat sprayed across the floor. I know our visitors will be stimulated by watching her at work.

She has a certain…reputation…shall we say. At first Susan thought it was a teenage girl walking towards her. Very slight and slim with the figure of an adolescent boy. Wearing a sleeveless white shirt that left her midriff bare; brief black skirt and black trainers; her hair was very short and trimmed to no more than black fuzz that emphasised her high cheek bones and thick, full lips.

In the moist heat her Clit torture stories brown skin gleamed, shiny as polished leather. The only touch of colour was a vivid pink gloss on her lips and nails. Susan, her growing terror showing in her rapid, panting breaths, instinctively tried to twist away as the woman stroked her fingers along Clit torture stories exposed hollow of her raised arm and down the side of her left breast.

There was no escape; all she succeeded in doing was made the heavy, dangling globes sway gently from side to side showing everyone how exposed and vulnerable they were. When she came back she was holding something that Susan thought was just a piece of thin card…until she saw the glittering golden coating on the other side.

Susan writhed and screamed as the woman cupped her right breast and held it firm, the swollen tip sticking out like a little brown finger. Susan Brown Clit torture stories to scream as the sandpaper scraped the skin from her nipple but all that emerged was a wet, gobbling frenzy. The watchers could see her eyes bulging with the effort to do something…anything to stop the slow searing pain. Despite her words the woman made no attempt to hurry. Each slow caress was followed by a pause…letting the scream and the spasms die away until everyone could hear the desperate, panting pleas from the girl on the bars.

She moved back just a little, leaning over the bars so she could continue the delicate, teasing torment as the girl bucked and heaved in a vain effort to avoid that maddening, expert finger that was masturbating her so skilfully…. The men behind the lights stared at the glistening, writhing body of the nineteen year old strapped to the torture bars. Hands furtively adjusted achingly hard erections and most breathed harder and more slowly, their mouths slack with lust and arousal, as the figure mewed and bucked with each gentle caress.

The girl straddled on the Clit torture stories, black straps biting into each tanned leg, arms stretched up so those full globes with their raw, swollen tips dangled, swayed and bounced so wonderfully with each movement. They licked their lips at each heaving movement of her ribs; excited by the wide staring eyes and the black plastic ring with her pink tongue wriggling and flickering in the opening with every whimpering sound.

No prizes for guessing the places she likes to work on the most, so for the last time…where is James Phillips? Tears leaking from her eyes, Susan Brown shook her head as far as the pinching fingers tangled in her hair would allow. Finally he snapped his fingers and the two guards carried a small battered table into the lighted circle, placing it between their boss and the bars so that Susan could see it clearly.

A metal box with switches and dials, some silvery metal fittings and coils of thin, plastic coated wire some red, some black. There was another, thicker cable coming out of the side of the metal box that one of the men was uncoiling as he walked back to the side wall in the shadows. She saw his vague shape bending over then heard a familiar click. On the box a little red light came on and it started humming softly. More trails of saliva dribbled onto the wet concrete as Susan arched up at the blazing agony in her nipple.

Susan gasped with agony but tried not to move because every tiny shudder set the dangling globes swaying and bouncing, jerking the wire and sending fresh stabs of pain through her body. Susan stared at the humming transformer like a rabbit in the headlights then, as though in total disbelief, she bent her head peering at the brass electrodes gripping her nipples then following the two dangling wires back across the concrete to where they were attached to the back of the box. Instantly her body arched in a bow, every muscle and sinew locked and straining in agony as the current surged through her breasts, her head bent back, eyes wide and her teeth clamped so tightly against the plastic ring that her lips showed white and bloodless from the effort.

Apart from the creak of the straps and a low buzzing from the two brass clips there was no sound for long seconds then a single wet scream of pure agony ripped through the thick, humid air of the interrogation room. He waited a second or two then the switch clicked again. The figure flopped back, panting and pleading; the sweat dripping from the points of her body and trickling down her flanks. Her cries a single, pleading chant.

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After the tenth shock Jonas Kipengi took his hand away from the transformer and walked over to the nineteen year old straddled on the bars and now hanging semi-conscious from the rope around her wrists. He grabbed the wet, matted hair and jerked her head back. His fingers flicked the toothed electrode as he watched her tongue writhing in the black plastic circle holding her jaws so wide apart.

You two, get her in position. Standing up she walked back to the table with the clips in her hand.

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