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Picking and Choosing - Chapter 18
Peter picked up the leather gloves and pulled them on, smiling at the way they fit his large hands. He returned to his prisoner and without a word began punching her, the first few blows flattening her multicolored tits that had swollen considerably in just the last few minutes. From there he battered her ribcage, being careful not to break them, but doing enough damage that every breath she took was pure agony. Even the hardened crew manning the stage winced in sympathy as blow after blow made her ribcage flex to its limit. He paused to catch his breath before moving down to her belly. It was a game of cat and mouse as he worked on her gut with powerful punches that drove all the air from her lungs and made her vomit so often that her face began to turn blue from the lack of air and her inability to take anything resembling a deep breath. He was quick as a cat and managed to avoid getting any of the mess she brought up on his uniform. She finally passed out; her head lolling onto her big mottled tits that now were grotesquely mismatched. The director called for a break that did not sit well with the star, who bitterly complained. Worse yet when the crew attempted to check out Antoinette they caught hell from him. This led to a shouting match and some threats from the crew to do some serious harm to the king of cocks, as he liked to be known to most people.
By threatening to walk off the stage leaving the crew and director high and dry, Peter Python got his way. The lovely woman was still unconscious when the lights went on and the director shouted for action. He got it in spades. The prisoner was roused by slaps to her eardrums and as soon as her eyes fluttered and opened, he spit into them. There was more mumbling from the crew, but they had no choice but to watch and hope they got a chance later to even the score with the super star of porn. Peter began threatening Antoinette with even worse treatment if she didn't tell him what she knew about the plan to get information about the new weapon that was about to be fielded by his country.
Thank goodness no one ever paid attention to the dialogue, provided it was short and didn't get in the way of the blood, sex and gore that was our trademark to date. In this situation Peter's ad-libbing was a nice introduction to what was going to happen to our heroine if she didn't cough up everything she knew about the plan. Of course no matter what she said, her captors would want to be sure that they had wrung every scrap of information from her, no matter how long it took and what kind of damage was done to the heroine. I started to wonder how long Antoinette would be in the hospital after this epic was finished. I also began to worry about what might happen to Piggy when it came to be her turn to meet the evil interrogator.
We all watched as Peter stuck most of his gloved hand into the prisoner's twat and wiggled it around as he watched her face. He pulled it out and then held it up, now glistening with her juices. Someone in the crew let out a whistle, angering our director to no end. It was fairly obvious that Antoinette was very turned on by what was happening to her and eagerly looking forward to more of the same. Peter did not disappoint her one bit on that score. He pinched her fat nipples and twisted them until she gasped. He grinned and asked her if she wanted more and his prisoner shut her eyes before nodding her head and whimpering for her pain fix. How weird was this? Suppose she's a liar, how do you handle that possibility? I began to get a headache from figuring out what was what and coming to no conclusion about the subject. I hoped that our audience didn't get the same type of headache as yours truly was getting. That would be a catastrophe!
Peter didn't seem to have any problem whatsoever. If she got off on pain, he'd give her pain. He'd give her so much pain that she'd overload and act like any other prisoner, spilling her guts for relief from the agony he was causing her. The interrogator pulled a tack strip from his desk drawer, the points about half an inch long. The backside had an adhesive to attach the strip to whatever needed it. The prisoner kept her eyes fixed on the foot long strip as the sadist brought it over to where she waited. He grabbed one nipple and used it to raise her swollen, black and blue tit so the strip could be attached to the skin beneath that big lump of tormented flesh. He allowed the tit to make contact with the row of tacks, but didn't add any extra pressure to the weight of the tit. The interrogator did the same to the other one as well, and then stepped back to survey the situation. While Antoinette began to deliberately struggle against the bedsprings in hopes of driving the tacks deeper into her tit flesh everyone around the stage was glued to her every movement.
The rubber hose came down on her left tit like a bolt from the blue, catching her by surprise. She screamed from the pain that those little tacks generated as they sank deeper into her super sensitive flesh. Before she could catch her breath he whacked the other fun bag and set her off once more. For what seemed like minutes he slammed the rubber hose down on those imprisoned mounds of skin and fat as she wailed and shrieked. No one could tell if she was in pain or expressing her pleasure from what each blow was providing to her psyche. Peter took a break and allowed his underlings to take a run at the prisoner. He insisted however that they wear condoms for their own health and safety and refrain from using her mouth. In fact he was too proud to enter her pussy or mouth after they had been filled with the sperm of his minions. They didn't seem to care. The prospect of being able to fuck a good-looking prisoner before her mind and body were totally degraded or even destroyed was considered rare good fortune.
The first thing they did was to drag the bedsprings, to which Antoinette was attached, away from the wall and set it down on the floor. This would allow them to use her cunt and tits at the same time. Soon there was a cock burrowing between her swollen, battered, multicolored tits while another cock, sheathed in a rubber, was punching in and out of her tight twat. She seemed almost to be detached from what was being done to her body. Only those who punished her fun bags with slaps, fists and vicious pinches and prodding got any response from her. One of them got carried away and actually punched her in the face, splitting her full, sensual lips. His peers made him pay a severe price for his disobedience, banishing him from the room and any chance of screwing the prisoner. The boss or his agent for such matters would likely provide more serious punishment, once he learned about it.
Gangbangs have limited appeal after perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes, especially when the victim has only one entry available. In reality Antoinette spent the better part of an hour and a half under the broiling arc lights that sucked moisture from her body like enormous sponges. To keep the action going the director allowed them more leeway to punish her while they waited their turn or felt cheated by how quickly her tight twat had sucked the sperm from their balls. They slapped her face, but were warned not to leave bruises, which proved to be a challenge for these brutes. Others twisted her ears into grotesque shapes as she whimpered and tears rolled down her cheeks.
Her big tits attracted plenty of attention. Since they were already damaged severely, her tormentors felt no compunctions about adding more bruises to the collection and doing their best to permanently separate her nipples from them. Fortunately they failed in that endeavor, saving themselves from the terrible consequences that would have occurred. Some even scratched the stretched skin over her badly damaged ribs, creating rivulets of blood that trickled down the sides of her body. By the time the director halted the slaughter, the prisoner was barely conscious, the perfect foil for what was to follow.
Peter returned and surveyed the damage done to his prisoner, noting the bruise on her face and the split lips. Most of the scratches on her ribcage had stopped bleeding and so he let that excess pass. The condition of her ears was another matter entirely. He had to admit that they had not specifically been listed as do not touch, his error so it seemed. A sardonic smile broke over his face as he realized what he was about to do to this enemy of the people. If as it seemed she enjoyed pain, then she would relish what was in store for her next. First he ordered his underlings to restore the bedspring with its cargo of raw meat securely against the wall. She would be thrashing against her bonds quite often as he worked on her bare body. They did as ordered, and then all but one left the room. His job was to assist Peter in preparing his victim for a continuation of the uneven struggle between them.
Peter got Antoinette's complete attention when he carefully removed a coil of barbed wire from his bottomless desk drawer. Donning his leather gloves he and his underling proceeded to wrap the barbed wire around his prisoner's midsection, going from just below her bloated breasts to just above her shaved vulva. In a few spots the barbs already drew blood as she shifted her body to protect it from the fiendish wire. He paused to survey what he had already accomplished and was most pleased. The woman's eyes were big and her breathing shallow in order to prevent further damage to her unbroken skin. This brought an amused smile to Peter's face; she hadn't experienced the next wrapping of the wire and its consequences. She gasped in fear as more barbed wire was wrapped around her swollen tits, forcing her to concentrate even more on the way she drew breath. Peter dismissed his helper and settled down to continue his game of cat and mouse with a very uneasy Antoinette.
She gasped and took a bite from the barbed wire wrapped around her swollen tits. The interrogator had moved to a fixture in the wall against which the bedspring leaned. He bent down and picked up a hose with a fitting that attached to the fixture. Peter leaned over to within inches of her face and asked if she was thirsty. She shut her eyes and began moving her head from side to side. She knew what was about to happen to her and there was very little she could do to prevent it. It took very little effort on his part to force the hose into his prisoner's mouth and begin the tedious process of pushing it down her throat. She struggled mightily but he had the upper hand. Now the barbed wire came into play, ripping small chunks of skin and even some flesh from her thrashing body.
He enjoyed every moment of this one-sided contest as inch by inch the tubing made its way down her throat. Its diameter was such that if she relaxed there would be a small separation that would allow some air to reach her lungs, at least for a time. Satisfied that there was no way she could force the hose up from her throat, he attached the end to the wall fixture and told her what to expect if she didn't give him a sign that she was ready to tell him what he wanted to know about the organization to which she held allegiance. For a brief moment her eyes seemed to flicker, a prelude to her capitulation, then it died. He smiled and opened the fixture slightly to give her a taste of what to expect as the water ran down into her stomach and started the slow process of filling it. Peter was impressed by her reaction to this situation; she controlled her breathing and kept her body quite still to avoid any more bites from the barbed wire wrapped around her tits and midsection.
Alas, she was just opening herself up for another approach that would break down her defenses. It weighed less than an ounce and was quite flexible as she quickly discovered once the feather began gently tickling her armpit. It didn't take long for her involuntary muscles to cause her grief. Almost against her will her body began to twitch and the movements translated into barbed wire bites that left a trail of blood from various portions of her body. The feather moved across her stiff nippled tits and she began to giggle uncontrollably. The carnage was widespread and severe as the barbed wire began cutting swathes of bloody furrows into her swollen tits. He backed away and let her wrestle with her self control, all the while ripping and tearing open her skin and well beneath into her flesh. Then she felt the first pressure upward from her stomach that was still taking on a slow, steady cargo of water from the wall fixture. She was now on the verge of panic and Peter approached with the feather and this time he homed in on her fat-lipped, shaven cunt mouth. Her bulging eyes told him all he needed to know; his prisoner was on the verge of cracking and telling him everything she knew.
(To be continued sooner than later - jethro jodhpur)
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