Message-ID: <7364eli$9803301421@qz.little-neck.ny.us> From: Crimson Dragon Subject: Time Out Of Time (Chapter 51) [Mf, MFf, bd, exh, sm, inc, nc] Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <19980330032912.6190.rocketmail@send1b.yahoomail.com> This story is full of all sorts of perverse and unlikely things. It includes all sorts of bizarre things, which happen to turn some people on. Things like bondage, non-consentual sex, exhibitionism, and even incest. Minors need not apply. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. Delete from incoming box. (Like you'll listen if you're a minor... but at least you've been warned). If this kind of writing causes you discomfort, if it bothers you or is even likely to bother you, please don't read it. Consider yourself warned. If you read it despite all these warnings and are offended, what the heck are you doing? Give yourself a shake. I guess I should point out that this story is fictional. I have never figured out time travel and if I did, I suspect I wouldn't misuse the privilege nor would I engage in non-consentual sex or incest under any circumstances nor would I counsel anyone else to do so. These are bad things. Any resemblance to persons living or dead are purely coincidental. Also, let's be clear about this. Archiving of the story is OK. But charging money for it (including charging for access to any archived copies) isn't cool. This work is copyrighted by the author subject to the above stated conditions. This is a work in progress. I will continue posting it as long as there is interest (both yours and mine). Any comments, good or bad, are welcome. Suggestions for the storyline are also welcome. If you are still with me, read on and please enjoy. - crimson [ Chapter 51 - Time Out Of Time ] By Crimson Dragon (dcrimson@yahoo.com) Amy was glaring at me defiantly. This petite woman. In panties and a sweater. Still barefoot. I felt like I was a lover having a break up fight. I almost laughed at the absurdity. Seeing that I wasn't going to get anywhere with her, I concentrated and slipped her into a slow time bubble. She was about to open her mouth to say something, probably hurling more abuse at me. But that never happened as she semi-froze in position. I wandered out to the living area. Glanced in on the other girls. They were still seated, trying to eat as slowly and as silently as they could. Like guests listening to the hosts during the party fight. Wanting to be anywhere but here. But not able to go anywhere else. I picked back up the gun from the living room. Along with some rope, some handcuffs, drill from the hardware bag, and an eyebolt. I carried the equipment back to the bedroom and dumped it on the dressing table. Amy was still standing in her sweater and panties in the middle of the room. Anger still showing on her frozen face. I wandered back to the doorway and leaned on the jamb. I returned Amy to our timeline. She began right away. Probably still spouting whatever was on her mind when I slowed her down. "You goddamn bastard. I hate you. Leave me alone." Then seeing that some things had changed. I suddenly had a gun. Eyes flicked to the restraints on the table. "Amy." "Fuck you. You ain't tying me up again. I won't let you. You fucking bastard." She was really venting. She made a move to get her jeans which were lying on the bed. "Amy. Stop." She hesitated and looked at me. Still defiant. Shifting her weight from one bare foot to the other. "You are going to have to shoot me, you know." "Amy. Don't kid yourself. I will shoot you. But I don't have to." "I'm not stopping. You are either going to have to undo whatever the hell it is that you've done to the world. Or you are going to have to shoot me. Or I'm going to walk out of here. Fuck you. I'm going to finish dressing like a human being and I'm gone. Got it?" "Listen to me, Amy." She stopped reaching for her jeans. Perhaps something in my calm tone. "You don't want to do this. Take off the clothes and allow me to punish you and it won't be as bad." "Haven't you been fucking listening to me? You have trouble hearing?" "Amy." "Shoot me if you have to. I don't care." I watched as she picked up the jeans. She honestly didn't care if I shot her. "Amy. Listen. If I shoot you, it is going to hurt. If I shoot you, it will be in a very uncomfortable way. There are no hospitals. No doctors. You'll die, but it will take days. In agony. I'm not going to shoot you in the head. Or the heart. Knees. Elbows. Arms. Legs. Breasts." She paled a bit, but bent down and began to slip the jeans onto her right leg. She'd passed the point of no return. She was gambling everything that I wouldn't shoot her. "Fuck you." "But I'm not going to shoot you, Amy. I really don't want to incapacitate such a beautiful body. If I wanted to kill you, I'd torture you to death. Enjoying your screams until you couldn't scream anymore. But I'm not going to do that either. You'll scream, but you'll survive." Amy was crying by this point, but she slipped the jeans onto her other leg and began to pull them up. "Goddammit. Why do you have to do these things to us? We're people, you know? Human beings? How can you be such a monster? How can you hurt us so casually? We hurt, you know? Pain? You remember pain? When you fell out of the tree when you were a kid? Broke your arm? Imagine that, but a hundred times worse. Some asshole whipping you, while you're helpless. Tied up. Shit. I hate you. I can't take it anymore." She pulled the jeans over her hips. She was about to do them up. The first time she'd had clothing in days. The clothes were actually attractive on her. "Amy. Listen to me. You can leave. I'm not even going to stop you. But I want you to know something, if you do." "What's that, you fuckhead?" Her fingers struggling with the top button of the jeans. "Whereas I really don't want to seriously damage your body, I don't have the same problem damaging a male body." I waved the gun for emphasis. "Oh my God. You son-of-a-bitch. You wouldn't." "Care to try me?" The fight just melted out of her body. I watched it happen. She knew she was beaten. Her father, frozen outside the room. Safe for the moment. She couldn't risk it. I watched as her face just collapsed. The anger. The frustration. The humiliation. All replaced by fear. She knew that she was in for a punishment to end all punishment. And she was afraid. Now she couldn't just walk out. Her father would suffer for her determination. "Oh God. I'm sorry." She whispered. Her fingers fumbled with the jeans and she slid them back down her long legs. She was weeping, her whole body wracked by sobs. Her whole body showing me her defeat. She stepped out of the jeans, leaving them on the floor. She began to pull the sweater over her head. "Amy. Stop." She turned her head. Still crying her eyes out. But didn't quite get the sweater over her head. "Please. Oh God. What are you going to do with me? Please don't hurt me." "Amy, this is simple. Stop crying." I let her struggle with it. Standing there. Barefoot. Bare legs. Sweater. Panties. Finally after three or four minutes she calmed herself. Tears still fell, but the body shaking sobs reduced. She opened her eyes. "Do you know how to use a drill?" "Oh God. What are you going to do with me?" "Amy?" She just shook her head. I didn't think that she would know how to use one. I haven't met many women that could use any power tools. But it was worth a shot. Would have added to the humiliation making her help set up her punishment. "Alright. Calm down. Sit in the chair." "Please don't hurt me. Oh God. Don't you want the rest of my clothes off?" "Not yet. Just sit down." She walked over to the chair and sat down. "Please. God. This isn't happening. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." I crouched behind the chair. "Wrists." "Oh God. Please. Don't tie me up. God. What are you going to do?" She was almost hysterical, imagining what I was going to do with her. She placed her wrists behind the chair. I wrapped her wrists in rope, tightly and tied it off to the rung between the chair legs. I clinched her elbows, bringing them as close as I could. She cried out, but didn't complain. Her breasts thrust forward beneath the sweater. She didn't complain because she knew that she was in for a painful time anyway. And complaining wasn't going to help her cause. I wrapped rope above and below her breasts, holding her back into the chair. Further emphasizing her breasts that until really recently were completely bare. I then moved in front of the chair and crouched down, looking into her tear stained face. She looked back at me for a second and lowered her eyes. "Please. Th-th-this sl-slave is so sorry. Please have mercy on her. Oh God. What are you going to do to me?" "What happened?" "Oh God. I. Th-this slave just snapped. God. I'm so sorry. I just couldn't take it anymore. I had to be free. You. I. You have no idea what its like to be naked and humiliated twenty-four hours a day. I just needed a break. God. Please. Please understand." The words tumbled from her mouth. A curious mixture of slave and normal talk. Fear very evident in the shake of her voice. "Amy. I understand. But you have to understand that I can't let you get away with it, either." "Oh God. Please don't hurt me." She was pulling at the ropes that held her body to the chair. I ignored her and climbed up on another chair. I used the drill to make a small hole in the concrete of the ceiling. Using a lead anchor, I threaded the eyebolt into the ceiling. It would take a lot of weight. Amy watched all these preparations in dread. Tears still streaming down her face. Begging pitifully. I wandered back out into the living room and gathered up a few other odds and ends. A couple of very short dowels, some wing nuts. I returned to the room. Amy was calmer. I picked up the drill and made a couple of holes in the wood. Threaded them together with the wing nuts and bolts. Amy watched all this in eerie fascination. I knelt in front of her and touched her ankles. She had been sitting with her legs slightly apart. Probably trying to do what she thought I wanted at this point. She looked a bit confused, but she brought her legs together. I wrapped rope around her ankles, clinching it tightly, making her cry out again. I tied off the rope and she sat quietly. Bound. "Please, master. God. This slave is sorry. She'll do anything you want. Please don't hit her. Don't hurt her. You don't have to hurt her." Slave talk wasn't going to help her this time. "Have you learned your lesson?" "Oh God. Yes. Please. I've learned." "What have you learned." "Not to talk back. There is no escape. Oh God. Whatever you want me to learn." "Not good enough. I'll tell you what you've learned. Or will learn. There is no escape. Until I get tired of you. And getting angry at me, is not a problem. But getting dressed without permission is not acceptable. Nor is screaming at me. Rebellion will only be tolerated to an extent. You went far too far this time. I don't mind feisty women. But that kind of behaviour frightens everyone. No good." She gulped. "Yes. Master. Your slave is sorry. She won't let it happen again." "I intend to ensure that it doesn't happen again." "Please. What are you going to do to me?" "Names." I suddenly changed direction. Wanting to keep her off balance mentally. Confusion. "Pardon me?" "You were calling me names. You remember what they were?" "Oh God. I was angry. I didn't mean ..." "I don't mind being called names. I'd be surprised if you didn't call me names. I almost expect it. What were they?" "Oh God. Please. You'll get angry. I don't remember." "A bastard?" She nodded. "What else?" "Oh God. I don't remember I was angry. Hurt." "Amy." "Christ. I think I called you a son of a bitch. Please don't make me do this." "What else?" "F-fucker. I think." "And a good deal more, eh?" She nodded. Miserable. "Is this kind of language the kind a lady should use?" She swallowed. Not knowing the right answer. She nodded. Guessing. Wrong answer. "A lady wouldn't use that kind of language. At all. Much as you think I treat you like animals, I expect my females to act like ladies. I can forgive the occasional slip if you are being tormented. Or in passion. But don't you think this was rather excessive? I can imagine this kind of language coming from your mouth if I was whipping you. Or raping you. But I was just trying to calm you down. Remember?" She nodded. Tears falling from her eyes. Pulling at the ropes holding her. "So, would it be fair to say that your mouth got you into this predicament?" She nodded. "Pardon me?" "Yes sir." "So, if I was to gag you, that might be considered an appropriate punishment?" "Please, don't gag me. I'll behave. I promise." But I could see it in her eyes. Confusion. A gag hardly seemed like a bad punishment. Certainly not worthy of her transgressions. "Beg me." "What?" "Beg me to gag you." "Oh God. Don't make me do that." She squirmed in the chair. "Amy." "Oh God. Alright. Please gag this slave's mouth to teach her a lesson. Oh my God." I picked up the wooden dowel contraption from the floor. She looked at it with confusion. "Tongue." Comprehension dawned on her and she wildly shook her head. "Oh God. I'm not letting you put that on me. No way." I shrugged and picked up the gun. "Have it your way. Would you like to see the bullet hitting your father's knee? I can bring him in here if you'd like." "Oh Christ." I watched as she stuck out her tongue and held it. Pleading evident in her eyes. I wandered over while she held still and slipped the tongue clamp over the tip of her extended tongue. I used the wing nuts to tighten it down tightly against her tongue. Finally she squealed and I pulled gently at the clamp. It was attached firmly. She automatically tried to bring her tongue back into her mouth as soon as I released the clamp from my grasp. Of course, the clamp prevented her from doing that, and she finally gave up, letting her tongue extend between her lips. "eeth," she begged. Trying to say "Please". Little did she know it got worse. I knelt in front of her, and wrapped some thin cord around her toes, lashing them together. She squirmed a bit at the sensations. I ran the cord up through the eye bolts. Using the cord, I pulled down, forcing her to raise her legs to a straight out position. She squirmed. "Hold them up," I ordered her. I felt the weight of her legs reduce as she took most of the strain on her thigh muscles. I deftly wrapped the other end of the cord around the tongue clamp. Ignoring her squeals and begging. She was well aware of the problem. Her thighs were going to tire quickly. And her tongue was going to be stretched right out of her mouth. She could probably already feel her thighs screaming at the tension. But if she didn't manage to keep her thighs like that, her mouth was going to be in agony. The tears began to fall. She was probably wishing that she'd never even thought about defying me. "Amy?" "oh ong?" she tried to say. I was pretty sure that she wanted to know how long she was going to be in this. Her body shaking with the sobbing and the pain. "You want it higher? Tighter?" "eeze. oh ong?" trying to shake her head but not being overly successful. I took pity on her. "We'll see. I'm going to go finish my lunch. I might release you afterwards if you're good." "Oh od." I turned on my heel and left the suffering girl on her own, returning to the kitchen. By now the other three women were finished their meals. They just sat quietly. Not looking at me. Afraid. I'm not sure how much of the disagreement they heard, but at this point they knew better than to even speak. Christi, eyes downcast, just reached forward and picked up my plate. Still with the untouched cheese sandwiches. I could see the fear and distress in her eyes. She wanted, or needed something, but was afraid to ask. I wasn't angry at her, so I made it easier on the tortured woman. "Christi? You can speak. What do you need?" She must have been frightened. She reverted to slave talk. "Please. Don't punish this slave. This slave just doesn't know whether you want her to make a new sandwich or heat these. Please. Please don't punish me too. I haven't done anything." "It's alright. Calm down. Just reheat those." She nodded and quickly as she could turned back to the stove. Jane and Elizabeth just sat quietly. Avoiding my eyes. Frightened as well. Probably wondering what I did to Amy. But no way were they going to ask me. Christi reheated my lunch for the second time. Placed the plate in front of me, with a longing look at the cheese sandwiches and took her seat between Jane and Elizabeth. All three girls were probably hungry. It wasn't much to eat and their life was reasonably vigorous these days. I'd have to start feeding them better if I kept expecting the same caliber of performance out of them. But for now, I wasn't going to allow them any more food. I wanted them a little hungry. Finally, some peace and quiet. I silently ate. Admiring the bare females in front of me while they just shifted awkwardly. Not quite daring to open their mouths, yet. _________________________________________________________ DO YOU YAHOO!? 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