Robert Vickers - Virgin in bondage

Sheryle couldn't figure out exactly what she felt toward the man. He was everything to her, a father and a lover – and more. He disciplined her when he thought she needed it, and she was coming to agree with his decisions. That frightened her because she knew she was being used.

"Dressed up that way," said Michael, "you look like a cheap hooker."

"Nothing cheap about me," she snapped, immediately regretting her words. "I'm sorry, Michael. I didn't mean that."

"God, this whole thing is ruining both of us. We've got to escape. We just have to."

"Yes, yes, anything. Michael," she said, wondering if she really meant that. She didn't want to stay, but leaving presented problems of its own. She couldn't go back to her parents. They would laugh at her and say she had gotten what she deserved. That was if they even believed her. More likely, they would accuse her of lying. This entire adventure was so bizarre she hardly believed it.

A man in a mansion. Fucking in the total blackness of a posh bedroom. Being dressed up and whipped. Being chained and raped. Being abused, sucking on his cock only to have him come in her face. Getting pissed on.

That had bothered her the most. She had enjoyed the fucking, as she always did, but then Mr. Stanton had stood up, his legs on either side of her body and pissed in her face and on her lustrous red hair. It had been so degrading she had wanted to die.

But she was subservient and respectful the next time Mr. Stanton came to her room. He had left her alone for what seemed months, only an occasional tray of food being given to her as if she were some sort of leper.

The on-again, off-again treatment she received from the man bewildered her. One day she would be convinced the man was madly in love with her. The next, he would piss in her face.

But he was so commanding. When he spoke, she listened. He was so forceful, she wanted to obey him. He was unlike any man she had ever met, including Michael.

"If only I could get free," the youth said. "But I've tried. This lock looks simple, but it isn't. I'm going out of my mind trying to get it loose."

Sheryle saw immediately that there was no lock. Rather, a complicated puzzle had been substituted. If they could work out the sequence, the entire puzzle would fall apart and free Michael.

"It seems so complex," she said after studying it for a moment. "I wonder if it's not really simple. That's the way those puzzles are, you know."

"No, I don't know," said Michael, pissed at her. "Why the hell don't you show me?"

And she did. The chain came free in her hand with only a little work. The ease with which she had undone the lock amazed her.

"You did it!" cried Michael. "And that son of a bitch seems to let you run free around here now. We can leave, both of us!"

She frowned, wondering what was wrong. Stanton usually kept her locked in the posh bedroom. But lately he hadn't even been chaining her. She had decided to see if her bedroom door was open, and it was. When Stanton said nothing about her excursions around the mansion, she had grown bolder.

Why had her status changed? She shrugged it off. It didn't matter. Maybe the man didn't think she had the nerve to escape. But hearing Michael, she knew she would. He lent her the strength needed to make the decision.

"Let's go, Sheryle. Now!"

They were an odd looking pair. She was dressed like a high-class whore and he was stark naked. Running through the deserted corridors of the mansion, they saw that the main door was open. Running for it, Michael found the door slammed in his face just as he reached it. Some automatic mechanism had closed it, locking the door securely.

"Damn, what's with this fucking thing?"

"Michael, look!" said the red-headed girl, suddenly frightened.

Advancing on them were two of the most vicious-looking dogs she had ever seen. She couldn't take her eyes off the dripping fangs, now bared. The dogs herded them back up the stairs, snarling and snapping hard at their heels. By the time they reached their room again, the dogs had vanished.

But in the room was Mr. Stanton, a frown on his face.

"You should not try to escape. The next time the dogs will rip your throats out. Consider yourselves lucky that this time I will only punish you."

"Says you!" screamed Michael, launching himself at the man. The youth found himself hurtling through the air to land heavily on his back. Stanton had used a judo throw to effectively stop the teenager.

With movements more like a snake, Stanton soon had Michael chained flat to the floor. Spread-eagled, the youth was unable to move.

"Suck on his prick and get it hard. If you don't, I'll flog the flesh off both of your bones!"

The whip crashed into Sheryle's ass, sending a jolt of pain all the way through her body. She knew the welt raised on her soft, white ass would stay for weeks. She had other welts on her shoulders and back which had been there at least that long. They didn't leave permanent marks but seemed to take a painful forever to go away.

She dropped to her knees and bent over to take Michael's prick into her mouth. She whispered hotly to her boyfriend, "I have to do this. Otherwise he'll kill both of us!"

"Ummm, oh," moaned the youth. "In other circumstances, I'd like this. But I can't get it up. I just can't!"

"Obey me!" flared the dark man. The whip lashed out and smashed into the soft ass of the girl bending over her chained boyfriend. Her sucking increased greatly. Cheeks going hollow under the strain, she tried her best to get Michael hard. If she didn't, Mr. Stanton would whip them both till they died.

And she found herself feeling guilty over trying to escape. She wanted to please the man, not escape. She shouldn't have listened to Michael! But they were both being punished together. Sheryle knew that it would do no good to appeal to Mr. Stanton for mercy, protesting that Michael had forced her to go along with him.

The man just wouldn't believe her. And if he did, he would still delight in whipping her. She knew the feral gleam that came to his eyes when he used the whip. It was unnatural – but it was Mr. Stanton's way.

Her tongue began teasing along the sensitive underside of the youth's limp prick. The flaccid organ began to stir, in spite of Michael's protests that he could never get a boner now. When the twitching became more pronounced, Sheryle really sucked.

Her lips caressed and tormented Michael's cock. Teeth bit down and left ragged red welts behind. This hurt, but it also caused his body to pump more and more blood into his cock. She had learned a lot since coming to this mansion of chains and whips. And not all of it was bad, either. Anything that could give pleasure to both of them couldn't be bad.

She found herself responding to his prick. The male musk odor was rising and the tangy taste of his prick spurred her on to even more exotic oral acrobatics. Her tongue danced and lashed and toyed with his prick, all the time sucking harder and harder on him.

"He's ready," said Mr. Stanton, moving her face out of the way with the butt end of his whip. Michael's prick stood rigidly at attention, pulsing and throbbing in subdued lust.

"Get on him and fuck yourself," the man ordered. "And do no touch your ass or you will be severely punished. Severely!" he emphasized.

The girl shuddered. She knew punishment. She could only guess at severe punishment. And she wanted to avoid that, whatever the cost. What Mr. Stanton demanded, though, wasn't all that impossible. All she had to do was fuck herself on Michael's delightfully rigid cock and not touch her behind. So easy.

So easy until Stanton rammed a candle up her asshole. She screamed in pain as it went in. She screamed again when he lit the candle. The hot wax dribbled onto her tender flesh and burned like fire. The heat from the flame promised even more pain to come from the hot wax. Involuntarily, the teenager reached back to pull the candle from her ass.