BDSM Library - Story: Ronnie Repents, Chapter: Chapter 1

“Ronnie Repents – Ex-Wives 5”

by Richard Stryker

The right of R. Stryker to be identified as the author of this book has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights and Patents Act 1988.

Published by www.a1adultebooks.com

Reproduced with permission of the author and publisher.

CHAPTER 1

She opened an eye, but her whole world was still one of darkness. She felt something around her face, like a mask. It made her grow cold with fear as she began to regain consciousness. Ronnie tried to move but couldn't.

She felt the rope wrapped round and round her body, securing her tightly to a narrow couch. Her wrists were tied securely together and then pulled behind her head where they were secured to the back of the couch.

Ronnie became aware she was totally naked. Her legs were drawn under the couch and were tied tightly together at her ankles, the couch forcing her legs apart. For a brief moment she was terrified at the realisation her sex was open and fully exposed. She made to scream but the ball-gag in her mouth made any sound virtually impossible.

Then she became aware of something else. Her vagina was filled with something hard. It felt like a big cock was just sitting there inside her, filling her up. Ronnie gained consciousness quite rapidly and as she did so, the sound of soft humming suddenly made its entry into her world. As it did so, the dildo in her vulva began to stroke her rhythmically. The dildo was attached to a device that was mounted on the end of the couch, a device that thrust the dildo about four inches into and out of her vulva at the rate of about two strokes a second.

The dildo was large in width, just over an inch and a half, and it was stretching Ronnie's sex with each thrust, bringing to her senses a strange mixture of pain and arousal.

Then, as her consciousness was restored, the dildo took over her body and she began to almost silently moan her way to an orgasm. She knew it was only the start of what she had been promised – and she was not looking forward to what else was in store for her. She could cope with the dildo for now, but knew that it would soon be painful as it continued its relentless fucking action inside her vulva. Her sex was becoming more sensitive and more tender with each stroke and, even as her second orgasm built to its inevitable climax, Ronnie began to feel the pain that this huge device was causing her.

As the third orgasm mixed with the pain of the intrusive instrument, Ronnie remembered why she was here and knew she had no choice. She would just have to put up with whatever was going to be demanded of her.

***

The letter sat on the dining room table, and under it was the envelope it had been posted in. Posted, not hand delivered. Posted. The letter had been addressed to Craig Carter and, as was usual, he had got to the post that morning while his wife, Ronnie, was still getting dressed upstairs.

Normally the radio would be on in the kitchen as Craig prepared their breakfast, but the kettle had long since boiled and switched itself off and, having opened the post, Craig had sat waiting.

“Breakfast ready, darling?” The female voice called downstairs. Silence, not the usual reply. Then came the footsteps as Ronnie descended the staircase.

“What's up?” She asked, poking her head round the dining room door and noticing the table was bare.

“This is,” Craig glowered at her as he held the single sheet of paper up for her.

Ronnie took the sheet and looked at it, turning pale as she did so.

“Shit!” She said. “What bastard would send something like this?”

“The bastard you've been fucking, perhaps?” Craig spat the words out.

“But I haven't been, there's only you,” Ronnie protested.

“Really.” Craig took the letter and read it out loud. “Dear Craig, I thought you'd like to know that your wife is really good in bed. She really is one of the best oral givers I know and I love the tattoo on the inside of her left leg – how amusing to have a four leaf clover just below her shaven sex. I am really jealous that you have at your disposal one of the most prominent clitorises I have ever had the pleasure of stroking. Also, I think your wife is a really good fuck. I don't want anything other than for you to know how much I enjoyed our times together over the past six weeks.” The letter was unsigned. Ronnie had gone pale. “So,” Craig spat at her, “tell me nothing is going on.”

“There's nothing going on,” said Ronnie flatly but she hesitated a fraction of a second too long.

“So how does he know all this?”

“I don't know.” Now she stuttered slightly as Craig's voice got louder. “I tell you, there's nothing going on.”

“Meaning you finished with this guy, whoever he is, and now he's out to get his own back.”

“Meaning I only love you.”

“Horse shit – this isn't the first time you've slept around either, is it?”

“I haven't been sleeping around.”

“No. Take a look at these.” Craig tossed a set of photographs on the table. “I had you followed about six months ago – you remember, the time when you refused to have sex. I guessed something was up then and I proved it. Isn't that the guy who used to run the church music group you were in?” Craig picked one picture where Ronnie was clearly fucking another guy. She was lying on her back on a rug on some grass with her skirt above her waist, oblivious to the presence of the photographer even though she was looking in the general direction of the camera. Her face showed she was close to orgasm. “This letter just proves you're at it again.”

“No it doesn't and, anyway, how dare you have me followed!” Suddenly Ronnie was indignant.

“I had you followed because I wanted to know what was going on – and I've had enough, what with this letter.”

“I don't know who this is from, honestly, Craig.”

“Well, he sure knows you, intimately!” Craig was shouting at her now. “Well, I've had enough. You can take the day off work, pack your bags and get out. I don't care where you go.”

“You can't kick me out, I haven't done anything. All right, I admit I had a very brief, tiny affair about six months ago. I can hardly deny that as you have the pictures to prove it, but I honestly haven't seen anybody else since.”

“So, how do you explain the letter?”

“I cant.”

“Well, the fact you cheated on me six months ago is enough for me. I want you out of here by tonight.”

“What if I promised to change?” Ronnie now sounded frightened, her earlier bravado having failed. Her voice said she was scared.

“What are you saying?”

“What if I promised to change. Do you really hate me that much?”

“Change, how?”

“Well, what if I promised to do the things for you I've always refused to do before?”

“Okay, keep talking.”

“Well, would you let me stay?”

“Only if the change was permanent and not just something to try and keep you here.”

“Okay.”

“And one other thing. You're going to be punished for your affair.”

“Punished, how do you mean?”

“I mean, you will be taught a lesson – a lesson of the kind you will never forget. Now, I have to get moving. Think about it and let me know tonight. Either you agree or your bags must be packed.”

“Okay. What time will you be back?”

“About eight. I have to meet someone after work and that will take an hour.”

Craig got up from the table, kissed Ronnie goodbye and a couple of minutes later he was on his way. He drove round the corner and pulled in before fishing his mobile phone out of his pocket.

“Hi, Mr Dawson, it's Craig Carter.” A pause as Dawson replied. “Yes, it went like a dream. A straight confession more or less and I think she'll go for the lesson.” Another pause. “Yes, yes, if all is okay then you can collect her later on this evening. I will call you later on when she has made her decision.”

Carter put the phone back in his pocket and smiled – revenge was gong to be sweet for him and very painful for Ronnie. All she had to do was make the right choice! She had been a stalwart church goer – the on hope now was she would have absorbed the teachings over the years and now she would want to do it – repent!

***

It was lunchtime when Ronnie heard her mobile phone ringing.

“Hi, it's me,” said Craig abruptly, “have you made your decision?”

“Yes, I don't want to leave you and I'm really sorry.”

“Good, in that case we'll organise your punishment for this evening and then we'll see whether you earn the right to stay or not.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Do?” Craig paused for a moment.

“Yes, what must I do?” Ronnie sounded unsure of herself.

“Well, first you can have a bath. I want to see you as naked as the day you were born. I know you like shaving down there, but you'd better be silky smooth when I touch you or I'll wax you with candle wax.”

“Yes, Craig, anything else?”

“Sure. Dress sexily. I want you ready well before I get home and you had better have a couple of drinks to relax yourself. It's going to be a tough evening.”

“Anything you want, Craig.” Ronnie sounded defeated and knew she would have to comply with Craig's wishes or she risked losing everything.

“And I will want everything, believe me. Things you haven't even begun to dream of. Now, I have to get going. Don't know when I'll be back but you had better be ready by six.”

“Okay Craig, but please don't be too hard on me.”

“I'll be as hard as I want to be. Now, I have to go.”

The mobile phone went dead, leaving Ronnie wondering just what was going to happen to her. It was one o'clock and she had a few hours spare to worry about things.

“Mr Dawson,” Craig said a few moments later, “it's Craig Carter.”

“Hello Craig, how's things?” Dawson had been waiting for the call.

“Good. Ronnie has agreed to the punishment and will be ready by six.”

“She doesn't know anything about my involvement, does she?” Said Dawson carefully.

“Good God know – that would spoil the surprise.”

“Excellent. Well, you can make your way to the farm. I'll be back with her by seven at the latest.”

“Thank you. I'll wait down the lane until you turn up, then I'll help you if you need it.”

“I won't need any help, but it's kind of you to offer. You realise it will take most of the night, don't you?”

“No problem, Mr Dawson, tomorrow is Saturday.”

“In that case, I will see you later on. You are sure the keys work, aren't you?”

“Absolutely. I tested them myself last week, just before I gave them to you.”

“That's good, so there should be no last minute hitches. I'll see you about seven and we can take things from there.”

“Thank you,” said Craig.

“Oh, don't thank me, you're the client don't forget. I just hope it works out for you and that my services are worth the money.”

“They will be and I will enjoy watching what you do, no matter what the outcome.”

“Be assured, the outcome will be everything you expect and more. I have never failed yet and I don't intend to with your wife.”

“That's good to know. I will see you later then.”

“Yes.”

The phone went dead.

***

Ronnie had bathed and carefully shaven her sex, under her arms and all over her legs by half five. The foaming bubble bath had smelled inviting as she'd poured it into the hot water. She washed carefully, knowing Craig would be in a mood to pick fault with her. Then she'd selected a fresh razor blade and meticulously spent half an hour in the hot water shaving off every unwanted hair she could find.

She'd actually got turned on by the sensation of the blade as it removed the short pubic hairs she'd allowed to grow since her last shaving episode. That had been for Darren, another of her flings. She was sure he would not have written to Craig, if only because their little arrangement was still very current indeed. The letter was a mystery indeed. With Darren out of the frame the thought occurred to Ronnie that the ex-band leader from the church might have decided to instigate revenge on the way they had split up – but if so, why wait over six months to do so?

The mystery was, Ronnie decided, unlikely to be resolved as she lay in the bath checking her handiwork and allowing the middle finger of her right hand to caress her swollen, sensitive clitoris.

She climaxed gently under her own ministrations and then decided to towel herself dry. She knew she'd be in demand later on so decided not to take her arousal further just yet.

She dressed sexily in a skimpy black, partly see-through blouse, a short tartan mini skirt and stockings which were of the self-supporting variety. She pulled up her tiny black thong and smiled to herself. She was ready and the two glasses of wine she could easily consume in the half hour before six o'clock would ensure she was feeling more confident of pleasing Craig when he finally came home.

She had just drained the second glass of wine and was lying back in the armchair facing away from the lounge door when she heard the front door open. It closed softly as it always did when Craig came home. There were sounds in the hallway as he approached the lounge.

Ronnie waited for him to greet her in his usual manner, afraid to call out in case it annoyed him. She had no idea what he wanted for the evening but she knew she dare not disappoint so, as he had instructed her, she sat in the chair waiting for her instructions.

She was aware of the presence behind her a moment before she felt the hand cover her nose and mouth. The hand held a pad of cloth that had been dipped in something. Ronnie tried to struggle but was held securely in the chair. She gasped for breath and took in a lungful of something that was not oxygen. Struggling in vain to escape from her captor, Ronnie felt the room spin for a moment as she slipped into unconsciousness.

Dawson wasted no time once Ronnie was out cold. He went back out the front door and opened the pull-up garage door. He drove his car into the garage and pulled the door down.

With the door protecting him from any prying eyes, Dawson went to work. The door from the garage to the hallway was already unlocked and Dawson had soon half-carried and half-dragged Ronnie from the armchair where she had slumped and dumped her onto the back seat of the car. As she lay there, Dawson pulled her thong down and off her, tossing it back into the hallway.

Five minutes later, with Ronnie's wrists and ankles tied together, Dawson was on the road heading back to his farm house. Although her limbs were tied one to the other, Dawson did this only as a precaution for in reality he was as certain as he could be that Ronnie would remain unconscious for the whole of the journey and probably for some time after it as well.

The evening had given way to full night and the darkness was welcomed by Dawson for it made it less likely anyone would observe the semi-naked woman bound and slumped on the seat behind him. The radio was infuriatingly playing the latest remix of “Is This The Way To Amarillo ” but Dawson was too preoccupied with his thoughts and the journey to change channels.

Finally Dawson turned off the road onto the track that led to his farmhouse. He was expecting Craig Carter to be lurking in the shadows somewhere but there was no immediate sign of his car. Unperturbed by the absence of his client, Dawson set about the task of removing Ronnie from the back of his car and hauling her into his dungeon.

The room was aptly named for it was a place of torture, sexual torture, and a growing list of young and not so young women had lived to rue the day they had entered the room. A few, a very few, had enjoyed the experience and all of them had left wiser and less likely to disobey their partner in the future.

Ronnie was not heavy and soon Dawson had her lying on the narrow, black-leather upholstered couch. With ease he removed her self-supporting stockings and shoes. Her mini skirt unzipped down one side and was soon lying on the floor, to be joined a minute later by her blouse.

As she lay naked and unconscious on the couch, Dawson prepared her. With a long length of rope he secured her to the couch, tying her to it securely. He stretched her arms above her head and secured her wrists to a bar just below the mattress. Then he lowered her legs on either side of the couch, reaching underneath it to tie her ankles securely together, pushing her legs wide apart, exposing her sex.

She had pouting labia and a hood that barely concealed the very prominent bud of her clitoris. Dawson smiled to himself when he saw the short, stray pubic hair between her legs. She had been careless and it was going to cost her dearly. Craig would ensure that would be the case when he eventually arrived.

Dawson was not keen on latecomers and as he rarely allowed the client to witness a torture session, Craig's tardiness was even more infuriating. With a tug on the rope round her ankles that was a bit stronger than really necessary, Dawson brought her legs up under the couch and secured them to a strut on the underside.

Next Dawson went over to his work bench and opened a drawer. Pulling out the blindfold he spent a few seconds positioning it so he was sure Ronnie would be able to see nothing but blackness when she regained consciousness.

Satisfied the blindfold was correctly positioned, Dawson pushed the ball gag into Ronnie's mouth, securing its fastenings behind her head.

Finally, Dawson positioned the piston dildo. The head of the dildo was about an inch and a half in diameter and the device had a ten inch long shaft of about an inch diameter. Onto the base end of the shaft was a long rod which was then fixed to an offset wheel on a box which Dawson had secured to the bottom end of the couch.

Dawson applied some gel to the tip of the vibrator and pushed it against Ronnie's labia. They were already partly open, in a pouting sort of fashion and the head of the dildo, though large, slid easily into her vulva. Dawson fed four inches into her and then secured the locking nut on the piston rod, ensuring the dildo was now held in place.

Ronnie was prepared and, when she regained consciousness, Dawson knew the dildo would soon bring her to a climax. Most times they had sex, so Craig had told him, Ronnie lost interest after her first mini orgasm. She was not a climax-seeker, well not with Craig anyway, though he had more than once smelled the musk of high arousal when she had returned from supposedly seeing a few friends. Tonight though, Ronnie would be taken to a new realm of sexual pleasure, and she would be taken there through pain and humiliation.

Where the hell was Craig? Dawson thought to himself. The show had to start and it had to start soon. Dawson plugged the lead coming from a box mounted on the nearby wall into the box end of the dildo and then, his work completed for the moment, he retired to his lounge.

Half an hour later there was still no sign of Craig and, on the TV screen in front of his armchair, Dawson saw Ronnie start to regain consciousness. She rocked her head from side to side as she slowly realised what had happened to her. As she stirred, she opened an eye, but her whole world was still one of darkness. She felt something around her face, like a mask. It made her grow cold with fear as she began to regain consciousness. Ronnie tried to move but couldn't.

The dildo's head was large in width, just over an inch and a half, and it was stretching Ronnie's sex with each thrust, bringing to her senses a strange mixture of pain and arousal.

Dawson watched with growing anticipation as the dildo on the end of the piston continued its unrelenting assault on the young woman's vagina. From the TV he could only see what was happening, there was no sound. Dawson knew the ball gag would prevent Ronnie from doing little more than moan either from pleasure or from the growing pain brought by the powerful, rhythmical strokes of the device between her legs.

Her fourth climax was building and Dawson made the decision to continue in Craig's absence. He left the relative comfort of his lounge, crossed the hallway and opened the door to the downstairs cellar he had converted into his torture dungeon.

As soon as he opened the door, he heard Ronnie groaning from behind the gag. She was also perspiring, her ample chest shimmering with the water droplets that had formed through the young woman's arousal. She was obviously building to a powerful climax as the dildo thrust its way deep into the very heart of her cunt. As the climax sent shock waves of pleasure from her vulva right to her brain, Ronnie struggled desperately to free herself from her bonds, but with no success.

“Do you like the dildo?” Dawson hissed through the mask he was now wearing. It would avoid his identity becoming known if the blindfold should slip off her eyes. He removed the ball gag so Ronnie could speak and even cry out if she wanted to.

“Who the … what the … why the hell am I here?” Ronnie sounded scared – justifiably so as she had no idea who was holding her or what was going to happen to her and, to be frank, waking up with a giant dildo stroking your sex firmly and rhythmically while you are tied up in a strange, dark place, is hardly a scenario that would make most women feel comfortable.

“You're here because you are unfaithful and you are going to learn a lesson you will not forget,” Dawson hissed again, his face now close to hers.

“Did Craig arrange this?”

“You'll have to ask him that. All I am going to tell you is that within a very short space of time you are going to wish you had stayed faithful and been honest. Now, you little whore, I think it is time for you to feel a bit of pain.”

With that, Dawson turned a dial on the back of the box controlling the rate with which the dildo was thrusting in and out of Ronnie's well-probed cunt. The rate increased until the piston was pumping in and out of her at nearly four strokes a second.

“Oh God,” said Ronnie as she felt the next climax building within her. “Oh God, that hurts,” she added as the excitement grew. As she became more aroused and her muscles contracted in the preliminaries of climax, the dildo did indeed cause the young woman pain.

“Not been fucked like this before, have you?” Dawson hissed as Ronnie cried out loudly with an ‘Arrggggghhhhh oh God, oh God, yes, yes, yessssssssssssss!' as the orgasm tore through her body.

The dildo continued its unrelenting actions and when Ronnie had climbed back down from the peak, panting she begged,

“Please, please it's hurting me. Please turn it off.”

“Okay,” hissed Dawson softly. “But you may wish it had not been turned off in a few minutes time.”

“Why? What are you going to do to me?”

“You are going to be taught a lesson you will not forget. Moreover if you fail to please your husband in future, or if you are unfaithful ever again, you will come back here and things will be twice as bad.”

“I won't, I already told Craig that. Please don't hurt me.”

“There's no gain without pain, you should know that. Your unfaithfulness caused others a lot of pain, and now you are going to reap your rewards and suffer in a similar way.”

“What are you going to do?” Ronnie asked, relieved that the dildo had been switched off, though it was still buried in her vulva.

She felt what seemed like thin pieces of string being trailed over her naked breasts. Her breasts were full in any event but the way she had been tied to the couch had pushed them up and made them even more prominent. Also, her rosy nipples were fiercely erect, the result of her multiple climaxes.

The string-like things trailed over her breasts a second time and then she felt the sudden sting of what seemed like a thousand pin pricks as they whipped into her full, pale flesh with a force that made her cry out in pain.

“Argggghhhhh!” Ronnie screamed as the fine leather straps on the end of the whip cut into her breasts again. It was the start of five minutes of pure hell for Ronnie. The third stroke landed ten seconds after the previous one, adding fresh marks to her otherwise unblemished flesh as the fresh stroke added its own weight of pain to her body.

Lying prone as she was and securely tied to the couch, Ronnie could do nothing to avoid the onslaught of the torture brought to her by the whip. For Dawson , it was like playing with a new toy as he swung the whip over the tips of her breasts in stroke after stroke of pure, unbridled torture.

By the sixth stroke Ronnie was sobbing loudly and her breasts were pinking up nicely.

“Oh God, no. Sob! Please stop, I, sob, can't, sob, take any more. Sob!” Ronnie blubbed as the seventh stroke started the second minute of this particular piece of torture.

“Oh, but you will learn to do exactly what you are told and when, and you will learn to be totally submissive to your partner. So, we will continue.” Dawson replied as Ronnie let out another scream to prove the eighth application of the whip had hit its target. “And,” Dawson continued, “when we have finished up here, we'll start between your legs. If you are truly sorry you will repent, and repentance means you will take what you so richly deserve. ”

“Oh God, NOOOOOOO!!!!” Ronnie howled, partly at the thought of having this torture applied to her sex and partly because the next stroke landed.

Over the next couple of minutes her breasts went from pink to red and welt marks started to form in one or two places where the leather straplets had made their strongest contact.

Dawson stopped after five minutes and thirty strokes. He took hold of Ronnie's right breast in his hand and felt it all over carefully.

“Not bad,” he mumbled to himself. Then he checked her left breast. Both felt fiery hot from the therapy and Ronnie was crying continually.

“Ouch,” she cried as he touched the whipped flesh, though he was only holding her gently for examination purposes.

“Learning your lesson?” Dawson asked.

“Yes, I'm learning. But I don't understand what I can do to stop this pain.”

“Nothing really, not until you've learned your lesson.”

“Please – there has to be something I can do. I'm really sorry and I do want to repent but please - the pain is unbearable on my breasts. If you whip my sex I'll probably die – can't you think of something else I have to do to show I am truly repentant?”

“Sex?” Dawson smirked, ignoring her plea. “Sex? That's a funny word. I want to hear you call it by its proper name.”

“My vagina?” Ronnie answered.

“No, not that.”

“Pussy?”

“No. What do all whores call it?”

“I don't know,” Ronnie wailed as she felt the dildo being pulled out of her vulva in readiness for the next phase of her punishment.

“Cunt, you whore, call it your cunt.” Dawson hissed.

“Oh, my cunt.” Ronnie sounded relieved.

“And you will now beg me not to whip it.”

“Please don't whip my cunt,” Ronnie said simply between her lessening sobs.

“Please don't whip my cunt, MASTER!” Dawson emphasised the final word. “For that is what I am. I am your master and so is your husband. From now on you will learn to do whatever we tell you, without question and without delay.”

“You're not my master and nor is Craig. I'm my own master.”

“Not any more. Let me explain,” Dawson said and Ronnie immediately felt the leather stripes caressing her shaven sex lips.

“You,” he said, as the first stroke of the whip landed dead centre between her pouting labia and Ronnie gasped with surprise. The stroke was not particularly strong, but with each word of the rest of his speech, Dawson delivered another similar stroke so the pain intensified as his speech continued.

“You,” he repeated, “are now the property of Craig. You have given yourself to him, to submit to his every desire and to do what he demands of you. When he hands you over to me or anyone else, you will do what they demand of you. You will never hand yourself over to anyone, only Craig can do that. Do you understand?”

The final stroke on the “understand” was a finishing stroke, somewhat more powerful than the others.

“Ouch, ouch, ouch,” Ronnie cried, still unable to move on the couch. “Yes, I understand.”

“Master,” Dawson added for measure and added another stinging stroke of the whip too.

“Master,” Ronnie howled with the pain. “What must I do for you, master?” She asked. “Just so the pain stops.”

“Whatever I tell you to do. For now, I am going to allow you some more pleasure. I think the message has gotten home, at least in part, so I'm going to try out something new on you. Normally I save these things for my more experienced clients, but today I'm feeling generous.”

“What is it master?” Ronnie asked, wondering what was going to happen to her next.

“It's a MyCraby. It's sort of crab shaped and the makers say it is going to give you orgasms like you've never had before. We shall see.”

“Well, I've already come quite a lot thanks to the dildo, so don't expect too much.” It was a mistake and Ronnie realised it the moment the words left her mouth but it was too late.

“Oh I expect and I know you will give.”

Ronnie felt his hand on her outer labia. She felt the labia being lifted up and squeezed slightly, just below her prominent clitoris.

“With a clitoris like that you can't help but respond.” Dawson laughed as Ronnie felt her other labia being lifted and then the slight squeezing sensation. When her labia were allowed to fall back into place she felt something strangely jelly-like yet more solid, sitting between her sex lips, something pressing firmly but gently into her clitoris.

“Right, lets see how long this little chappie takes to get you going.”

Dawson connected the controller and trailed it back down the couch. Then he simply pressed the button and a soft humming sound filled the air.

The clitoral stimulator pulsed its varied pattern of vibrations deep into Ronnie's throbbing bud. The contact between instrument and flesh was good, and without need for any lubricant it ensured the power of the tiny vibrations had greater impact on the young woman. The pattern of pulses changed regularly, building from gentle vibrations to much stronger ones, with pulses of energy that were released directly into the very sensitive clitoris over which the head of the crab had been secured.

In just a few seconds, Ronnie was unwillingly starting on the road to a new climax, the muscles of her vulva contracting as the climax neared. She longed to be able to arch her back and savour the full effects of the pleasure, but she was secured very tightly and could not move. So she lay there at the mercy of the strange device that was held against her clitoris by her own labia.

“Ahhhhh!” She gasped as the climax sent her over the top. The release was welcome after the cruel floggings. The little crab-shaped device between her legs did not falter but continued to stimulate her bud even as she climbed down off the peak.

“See you in half an hour,” said Dawson as he turned and walked out of the room.

“No, don't go!” Ronnie called after him. “I can't take half an hour of thissssssss!” She gasped as her clitoris responded to the MyCraby and she built quickly to another orgasm. This one was more intense than the previous one and, as her clitoris was growing more sensitive by the minute, Ronnie felt the intense waves of pleasure more keenly as they flowed through her body. The urge to arch her back increased as a third orgasm began to build and, for several futile seconds, Ronnie struggled with her bonds. Finally the waves of the third climax flowed through her body and Ronnie lay back, gasping for air after her efforts.

Dawson went and made himself a cup of coffee. It was now after eight o'clock and there was still no sign of Craig.

Dawson sat down on the sofa and watched Ronnie evidently respond to the MyCraby again for her body was twitching and twisting as best it could under her bonds, a sure sign she was experiencing another enforced climax.

To read the rest of this story, please click on the following URL:

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