Author Unknown - Glenda gets hers

Glenda moaned softly. Slowly, Wilhelm worked a third thick digit inside her. Then, he pushed in his little finger, two.

He now had all his fingers up Glenda's cunt to the second knuckle. A growing intensity of sensation was building between her legs as Glenda felt her elastic cunny stretching slowly beyond the point it of knowledge.

She was yawning open farther than she'd ever been opened before as slowly, masterfully, Baron von Brinkle flexed his biceps and began to worm his black gloved hand inside her hot, puffy vagina.

"Aaaaaaaiiiiieeeee!!" Glenda screamed, her eyes bugging, her back arching.

She didn't know if it was from pain or pleasure. But the feelings which tore and blazed through her outrageously gaping twat were so powerful, they were excruciating.

Blinding explosions of white heat flared behind her eyes as suddenly, Wilhelm's huge gloved paw popped inside the silken furrow of her distended fuck-hole.

Her slippery cuntal lips were clutching convulsively at his thick wrist. Glenda shuddered and flopped back on the bed, moaning hoarsely, whipping her head from side to side.

She opened and closed her fingers spasmodically, little shudders rustling up and down her tied up body as she slowly, incredibly, adjusted to having a man's hand inside her tight, juicy cunt.

Then Wilhelm began to move it, twisting his wrist from side to side, rubbing his fingers along the inner walls of her velvety vagina. Glenda screamed again, bucking wildly.

But it was with pleasure now, impossible pleasure, pleasure that made her rational mind snap as she entered a new dimension of primal carnal sensation. She rolled on this new, savage sea, gurgling and shrieking like a mad thing.

"Yeah! Feel your master's iron fist up your hole, cunt! Feel him and worship! Feel him and orgasm! Feel him and give up your soul to me! You ARE me now, bitch! You are mine! You are my toy, my play-thing, my pawn!" von Brinkle whispered heatedly.

He had won. She had found the ultimate degradation, the dark, lurid place she had longed for ever since Glenda had become immersed in her desire for rope and subjugation…

Taking a wrong turn was the first in a series of misfortunes which befell Sean and Ruth Hathaway that foggy February evening in Connecticut. Sean had turned the cream-colored Volkswagon Rabbit off the Interstate, but unfortunately, he had chosen the wrong exit.

Now, the newlyweds found themselves driving slowly down a dirt road in the middle of nowhere. Dark trees lined the road on both sides, and there didn't seem to be any signs of civilization. It was uncanny, almost like a scene out of a Twilight Zone episode, as Sean noted ironically at one point.

"Don't say that, Sean!" Ruth exclaimed with a nervous laugh. "I'm a little frightened!"

"Don't you worry, sugar-pie," Sean said grandly, flashing her a white-toothed grin. "I'll take good care of my little bride!"

Ruth beamed at her new husband, and felt a proud thrill swell in her capacious bosom. She glanced tenderly at the handsome young man who sat beside her, and felt almost overwhelmed with elation as she thought of the life they would spend together as man and wife.

They were teenaged sweethearts, wholesome youngsters from Hartford who met at a private Catholic school and fell in love in their junior year. They had planned the wedding for the day after graduation, and their parents had reluctantly agreed to the match.

Now they were on their own! They were driving to Tuckerville to stay overnight in a motel there before heading for Niagara Falls in the morning.

But somehow, Sean, who didn't know that part of the state very well and whose sense of direction was hampered grievously by the ill weather, got lost, and now, they cruised along slowly on that deserted dirt road.

They were certainly an extremely attractive couple. Sean was a good-looking blond jock, boyishly handsome with a shock of straw-colored hair and twinkling blue eyes. He had the sleek, well-toned body of a young athlete.

Ruth was a gorgeous minx with curly brown hair bobbed at the shoulders and falling in cute bangs across her forehead. She had big, innocent green eyes, a tiny button of a nose and a sweet, full-lipped smile.

Her full, jutting breasts made perfect spheres in the soft pink cashmere sweater she now wore, having changed out of her bridal gown after the reception at her parents' house.

"Look! Up ahead! It's… It's a castle!" exclaimed Ruth, pointing.

"Nonsense, Ruth!" scoffed Sean. "A castle in Connecticut?"

But his voice trailed away as up ahead, sure enough, loomed a bona fide facsimile of a castle, lit up by glaring red lights against the dull black sky.

"Well! We'd better get out and ask for directions!" Sean said, parking the car.

He jumped out and Ruth followed him, not wanting to be left alone in the car. Ruth felt strangely uneasy. She wished they would just drive away from that weird place…

Sean rang the bell and after a moment, the huge oak door creaked inward. A pretty brunette dressed in a formal maid's outfit looked out at them with a friendly smile.

"Hi there!" Sean grinned. "We're lost! I hate to bother you, but may I use your phone?"

"Come this way, please. I'll show you into the study," the maid said in a musical voice, and led them through a grand foyer down a darkly lit, rather sinister hail.

Ruth noticed that the maid's skirt was shockingly short and that she wore sexy black lace stockings and shoes with six inch stiletto heels. This place was certainly odd!

Ruth and Sean stepped into a small room with a fire blazing in the fire-place and a couple of easy chairs. There wasn't a phone anywhere around.

Sean shrugged and said, "She's probably gone to tell the owner of this place about us."

"But why?" Ruth said uncertainly. "Sean, I think we should get out of here!"

"Don't be a ninny! It's perfectly all right! I'll call up the hotel and tell them to hold onto our reservations and then I'll ask the maid or the owner or whatever to tell us the proper directions to get there!"

As Sean was explaining this patiently to his frightened bride, the door to the room sprang open with a loud crash. Ruth Hathaway shrieked, leaping in the air, her face contorting with shock and mounting horror.

Sean swung around with a cry, saying hoarsely, "What the heck?"

A bizarre figure swept into the room. So bizarre, in fact, that the Hathaways were momentarily paralyzed with shock as they ogled this creature.

It was a zaftig, incredibly well-proportioned female. Tall and majestic, she was exquisitely beautiful, with almond-shaped hazel eyes, a retrousse nose and full, scarlet-painted lips, twisted now in an evil smile.

She was bare-chested, and the huge, swelling mounds of her breasts jutted forward proudly, quivering when she moved. The sand dollar sized nipples were painted red, and they had been pierced. Big gold rings swung from each inch long nipple.

She wore black leather gloves which came right up to her shoulders, totally encasing her long, slender arms. She also wore black leather boots which came up to above the knee. These boots had pointy toes and sharp, six inch heels, and laced up the front.

Beyond the gloves and the boots, the woman was stark naked. Her pussy was a moist, pinkish mound of puffy, triangular flesh. Her thighs were shaved smooth.

Not only her thighs, either. The woman's head was completely bald, smooth as an egg…

Yes, it was Glenda Farrell. Glenda Farrell, minus her rich, lustrous tresses of flame-red hair. Glenda Farrell, would be model, masochistic convert, and now, zaftig dominatrix…

Coming up behind her were two formidable looking men. They were Ian and Dirk, though of course the Hathaways were ignorant of this. Ian was bare-chested, his burly, hairy chest heaving as he panted and leered at the cornered newlyweds. His cock bulged obscenely in his loose, dirty brown trousers. He clenched rope in one hand and an ugly looking revolver in the other.