But she knew that some parts of his body were fleshy. That prick of his hadn't been made of bone when she had started sucking on it in the car. And she knew she could wear him out. He'd come in her cunt. She could still feel the sticky white jism leaking from between her pussy lips and going down the inside of her leg.
"What now master?"
"I don't like naked women. Not the ones as ugly as you. Go to the closet and put on black stockings and a garter belt. I want to see those long legs of yours sheathed in black nylon."
Vicki didn't like the idea of turning her back on the man, yet she had no other choice. The chain prevented her from moving freely. She went to the closet and opened the door. Inside were row upon row of gorgeous gowns. All expensive. She knew this closet full of clothes alone would have supported him for a year in a big city. It was even more apparent to her that money meant nothing to her Mr. Valentine.
"Down on the floor."
She started to turn and look at the man but the chain caught at her throat. She simply dropped to her knees and rummaged around until she found the black mesh stockings and a frilly garter belt. She'd never worn one before but it was both obvious and simple how to wear it.
She stepped into it and settled the lacy belt into place. Then she put on first one then the other of the mesh stockings. They were cool and silky against her skin. She stroked up and down them a few times, wrinkling them so she could smooth them again.
"Stop stalling," he barked.
She sighed. It was such a drag being a prisoner like this. And from the way her cunt ached from his dry humping, it was going to get worse. This was simply one more thing against Mr. Valentine. He could take his pleasure with her, but she hadn't gotten off.
The sexual pressures building inside her were so potent they would have to be released soon or she'd go mad with desire. And she wasn't really sure that her new master would be so kind as to fuck her again.
She fastened the tops of the stockings to the garter belt, then stood. Looking at herself in the wall mirror, the teenager suddenly whistled in surprise.
Standing there, looking back, wasn't a young eighteen year old girl. It was a woman. A lush, ripe fully mature woman. The black stockings made that apparent to her.
"Very well, NOW that you've finished putting them on, come here!"
She turned and felt a cold lump form in the pit of her stomach. He was standing beside the bed, the long whip curling and uncurling beside him as he flicked his wrist.
"You can't do that!"
The whip sang. And then it touched her arm with such an obscenely soft caress that she almost fainted dead away. There was no pain, just surprise. And at that, the man laughed harshly.
"When I wish you pain, you will feel pain. Real pain! I am the master of pain! And don't you forget it! Now come here!"
He yanked on the whip handle and she went sailing across the room. The leather band had tightened miraculously to the point where it was like a handcuff on her wrist.
She stumbled and fell at his feet. This seemed to please him. He said, "My shoes are dirty. Lick them clean!"
She started to rebel, then from the corner of her eye she saw the long whip moving slowly back and forth as if barely restrained. She knew he would love to beat her until the flesh hung in tatters from her body.
The girl wouldn't give him that pleasure.
She licked all the dust from his shoes.
Just as she was finishing with his left shoe, he took a step back. She cringed in anticipation of the whip lashing out and dancing across her naked back.
The blow never came. Instead, his voice echoed in her ears, "You didn't lick fast enough. I gave you your chance to please me and you failed. What should your punishment be?"
She didn't want to answer. But when the whip cracked loudly in the air just above her head, she stammered out, "I… I don't know, master! Please spare me!"
"Spare you?" he roared. "Of all the ridiculous things! Spare you! I am going to whip you!"
She felt the sting even as she heard a hard wooden rod singing through the air. The pain shot into her ass and made her moan in pain. This was too much. But the rod descended on her ass again and again. She tried to roll and avoid the punishment.
The chain fastened to her dog collar prevented it. And then, when she came to her hands and knees again, she experienced the first real pain since she had been in Mr. Valentine's grips.
The wooden rod sang through the air to smash across her pussy lips. No longer was he beating her on the fleshy ass. He was driving each and every blow between her asscheeks so the rod would hit her exposed and drooling cunt lips.
And yes, her pussy lips were already wet with desire. The stinging blow had made them come more alive than the girl had ever felt before. She'd mistakenly thought only fucking could make her cunt drool with desire. She was wrong.
The blow landing on her labia made them sting and smart. The blood, however, rushing into them confused her body. The glands inside her twat began churning out the thick oils to lubricate her cunt for fucking. Blood engorged pussy lips equaled fucking.
And Mr. Valentine made sure her cunt lips were adequately stimulated. By the time he was panting and his arm tired, her cunt lips were covered with ugly red welts. And her ass was completely criss-crossed with the red lines showing where every blow had landed. He looked at his handiwork for a moment, then snarled, "Get ready, slut, for your master is going to fuck your asshole!"
"No, please, no! Not after you've whipped my bottom like that! I… I'm still so sore!"
But she knew her argument was only spurring him on. He dropped behind her again and this time his hands pressed firmly into her tortured assflesh. She moaned and then howled in pain as he began kneading the soft, brutalized ass. He took one asscheek in each hand and began rotating it.
The girl thought he was trying to pull those doughy mounds of flesh from her body. He was rotating one clockwise. The other was being jerked in the opposite direction.
She wanted to die but she knew he would never allow it. Her master wouldn't get as much thrill from her death as he would from fucking a living, tortured ass.
"Stop it! I… hurrrrt!"
"That's the idea, slut. You slaves are all alike. You think you can do anything and get away with it. Strict discipline is all you will find while you are in this house!"
Then she felt his prick begin to nudge into her flesh. It surprised her how fast the man had gotten another boner. His cock was a full-sized fucking tool from the way it pressed into her butt.
Then she fell forward onto the floor. The pain in her bottom shot throughout her entire body. As he had fucked into her asshole, she tried to avoid both his driving prick and the feel of his legs moving so roughly against her whipped ass.
She didn't escape for long. Powerful hands slipped under her body and easily lifted her. She wouldn't have believed this tall, skeletal man would have been possessed of such strength.
And he wanted to fuck her ass. Nothing less would do for her master now that the thought had entered his mind.
He pulled her to a kneeling position again and bent her body forward until she was supporting herself on her hands once more. He was fucking in the exact same position as he had earlier.
The only difference was where his cock probed. He was heading into her anus this time.
She remembered what it had been like when he had fucked her dry cunt. She shuddered at wondering what it might be like when he drove his long, hard prick into her dry asshole. He could tear her apart. He could make her bleed to death from torn inner membrane.
And he was capable of all that and more.