"Lean forward!
She did as he said.
"Lift the skirt off your bottom. Higher."
He enjoyed this for a few minutes. Maybe he even went away and had a drink. Then he was back, for he spoke again.
"Bend over and grip your ankles."
In this position Susan was bent double, her nose resting in the space between her two knees, her skirt high over her back, showing everything. The black man kept her like that, enjoying the sight of her thick sex lips that protruded rudely out between tightly closed thighs. The image disturbed H. It filled him with lust and chipped away at his control, his will power draining into his thickening cock.
Fighting to regain himself he ordered Susan to stand up straight, at attention. She did so immediately, recognising the urgency in his voice. To upset him now would be dangerous. Very dangerous. She had already learned to read the signs, learned never to upset her master, and she had learned it the hard way. On the end of a strap, the palm of a hand, the tip of a gearstick.
Suddenly the light went out and Susan was plunged into darkness, into silence.
She was disorientated. Was she alone?
She thought for a moment, remaining perfectly still. It was impossible to know what would happen next. All she could hear was the sound of her own breathing, nervous, irregular. Desperate for the relief of sensation she held her breath, hoping to hear him, with straining eyes she tried to glimpse him.
There was nothing.
The minutes ticked by, but she did not move.
Flash!
Once more she was struck by the incredibly bright light, this time from the front. The black man must be between her and the window and she was illuminated for all to see. Except there was nobody, there would be no knight in shining armour to charge to her rescue.
Time passed.
Nothing. Blazing white light. Standing at attention, frozen in time. Silence.
Susan dared move only her eyes. She squinted past the light but saw nothing until she noticed a figure at the corner of the window. He was outside, on the verandah, watching through the window.
"Off with your skirt."
His voice was loud and clear. He must have rigged up a microphone outside. Susan released the button and the denim fell to her ankles.
"Fold it neatly."
She folded it carefully, following his instructions to the letter, returning to stand at attention in nothing but the half cropped jumper.
There was a long pause while she waited, tense as a coiled spring.
"Jumper off!"
She obeyed and took up her position again.
Time passed.
A voice from out of the glare.
"Bend! Stretch! This way! That way!"
He was judging how supple she was. Her body and condition were excellent. He was becoming more and more pleased with his captive.
When he told her to clasp her fingers together behind her head and push her tits towards the window he could tell that she was eager to please. Oh yes, very eager. She must have been truly well taught. She could take a lot of punishment, he judged. A real lot. Obviously her early owners had been stern masters. Fair? Perhaps. Kind? Doubtful. But stern? Definitely!
That was good, but it would not save her. No way!
"Inspect yourself."
Susan raised one leg on the arm of a chair and looked intently at her vagina, studying it like a concerned medic, probing with a finger, inside, deep inside, as deep as she could go.
"Crucifix!"
Susan knew the term.
She returned to the centre of the light to stand, feet together, chin up, arms outstretched at shoulder height. Darkness descended in an instant, enveloping, all encompassing, silent. She dared not move, no matter how her limbs ached. If her hands dropped just an inch he would make her pay, like Bingo had made her pay.
The pain came, as she knew it would, a gentle warming of the limbs turning into a burning heat that begged her to move her arms. She strained her senses trying to detect his whereabouts. When she felt it was safe enough she slowly lowered her hands…
Almost before they moved, her head was encased in a black satin hood. There was no sound and hardly any touch. Her wrists were taken and cuffed and she was made to hold her hands in the air. Although she couldn't see it, a hook was placed below the chain connecting the cuffs.
Suddenly she was standing on nothing!
Nothing!
Like a free falling parachutist she dropped through the air. Plummeting, straight down through a trap door cut into the stripped maple floor. In total blacked out isolation she plunged into the darkness below. This must be the end. She prepared herself for a crash against concrete or earth but her entire body was jolted upwards by the hook in the cuffs. It was attached to a heavy rope, tied to one of the exposed beams.
For a split second she was stretched so far her wrist, elbow and shoulder joints almost popped out of place. But she knew she was alright, the sudden pain of the drop gave way to throbbing, aching muscles and she dangled, suspended and helpless, awaiting his attention, not knowing what dreadful thing he would do to her.
Whatever it was, it was slow in coming.
The waiting and the uncertainty were almost as unbearable as the heat in her tortured limbs. With each passing second her anxieties grew, sapping her energy until finally exhaustion rewarded her with sleep.
She was waking, climbing back into horror.
The click of metal heeled shoes greeted her.
She was still enveloped in the hood. There was no way to know how long she had been unconscious, although the pain in her arms had turned to numbness, suggesting a fair time had passed. The click of shoes circled her as the black man walked slowly round her.
Occasionally his hands would run the length of her flanks, or up the inside of her legs. Sometimes he would cup her breasts and every so often she felt the tip of his nose against her mound as he breathed in her musk.
Then he was gone.
Later he was back.
When she despaired of ever seeing the morning light and relinquished all hope of release, she felt his hand take hold of the black satin hood. Slowly he lifted it from her head, revealing to her the same shiny black boots he had worn before. Sharp and gleaming they were, as was the gold metal protector that enclosed the pointed toe.
The hood came off and Susan gasped at the man in front of her.
Apart from the boots he wore only a pair of extremely tight and very heavy rubber shorts. A hole in them exposed his bulging genitalia. His stretched penis was pulled down and strapped to his leg by a criss crossed leather lace drawn so taut his bell-end bulged almost to bursting.
It looked like an over ripe plum.
"Hello Susan," he said, toying with the gold sleepers that pierced his nipples. "Sleep well?"
She lifted her tired head off her chest to see herself dangling in a wood cladded corridor on the ground floor. In front of her were large patio windows the full width of the passageway.
"Quite a drop, wasn't it?" He gave the underneath of each breast a firm tap with his fingers. "But you are strong. I know that. I never drop them unless I'm sure they're strong enough to take it."
As he spoke he began fiddling with the hook in her wrist cuffs. Behind Susan was a rail attached to the ceiling. Connected to that was a pulley and hook whose steel bearings slipped along a groove in the rail. Susan heard a metal click, but she was too weak to turn around. Suddenly she was moving, being pushed further down the corridor suspended on the runners.
With what energy she had left she managed to lift her head and study the large glass covered photographs that dotted the walls every few feet or so. The black and white prints depicted girls in various states of undress. Some naked, some actually taking their clothes off, while others were clad in tight rubber and leather, faces covered with masks, waists pulled tight.
One extra large frame contained a montage of pictures depicting a young pig-tailed girl being stripped by the black man. In the first, she was fully clothed with denim mini skirt and cropped top which Susan recognised as the clothes she had worn in the cab. She also wore long cotton socks and buckled sandals, which were removed in the next frame. The last picture showed the girl on her knees, her lips pursed around the black man's heavy, engorged prick.