Walter Collins: Tijuana slut

The cock finally decided to do its thing. It throbbed and drained into my mouth, leaving its trail of jizz across my tongue. It filled my throat before I had time to get back. I swallowed as fast as I could and pulled away. At least I'd saved myself the humiliation of having him spray my face with his load.

"Please… "I sobbed. "Wash my cunt!"

The men laughed at me. The one who'd brought me there in the first place grabbed my long hair

and dragged me, cave-man style, to the stairs. I staggered to the room I'd been cleaned up in before. I clutched my burning crotch the entire way.

I was washed down again and dragged back to the barracks room. The men weren't being kind to me. It was the powerful smell of the rubbing alcohol and not my pain that had made them scrub my snatch.

My legs wouldn't work fast enough for them. I was dragged along behind them by the hair. I would slip and fall. I had to crawl, stumble and slide as they hurried down the stairs to the basement. My knees were. skinned and my toes torn by the time we stopped outside a cold room. I heard a baying of dogs and knew we were someplace close to the kennels. I passed a frosted window on the way. It was daylight outside. It had to be my second day. That meant I only had to survive it and one more before I'd be shipped off to slavery. That didn't seem too horrible a fate compared to what I was going through now.

The door to the room was unlocked. It was a large room without furniture. I was dragged inside. One of the men opened a cabinet and took out a bottle and funny-looking girdle. The leather garment had different pieces. The men held my arms as others strapped the twelve-inch wide belt, studded with special rings, around my waist. They tightened it until I could hardly breathe.

Two of the men strapped leggings on me that were also studded with rings. The lower part of the

leggings covered me from ankle to knee. They were connected to the thigh part by straps which allowed my knees to bend. The leggings were solid again from the straps to their tops. The stockings stopped two inches from my crotch.

The leather was buckled so tight that it almost cut off the circulation. I was thrown onto my back. My knees were jerked up on either side of my waist. The men locked my sides by running padlocks through the rings in the belt and at my knees. My legs were clamped up and my pussy vulnerable.

The men forced a pipe, cut especially to hold my ass away from my ankles, into special fittings and locked them in place with pins. When they rolled me over, my ass was held high in the air by the rods and completely spread.

I was pulled into the middle of the room. The men locked a wide leather collar around my neck and attached it to a foot-long chain cemented to the floor. One of the men dipped a rag into the bottle. He painted my asshole, cunt, mouth and tits with the stinking fluid.

The men vanished. I could feel the sticky liquid starting to dry in the cold air. My bruised asshole and loose cunt were soothed by the chill. The stuff reminded me of period blood.

The other man reached down and pulled my head up by the hair.

"I'll bet she's a better fuck now than she was when you first grabbed her by the tit."

I tried to cuss at them. I tiled to plead with them. It wasn't any good. The only thing that came out of my mouth was a whimpering moan.

The two men laughed as they walked away. Another man came in and got me out of the rig. I was carried back and thrown into my cell. The only thought that filled my mind was revenge. Somehow I would get even; They could enslave me in the Amazon or at the South Pole and I'd get back here. I'd find those two and castrate them if I had to crawl on my hands and knees all the way. I would survive. I would get even!

I woke up slowly. I was hungry and thirsty. My body was so stiff I could hardly move. Each twitch sent flashes of pain through me. The honor of being fucked by the dogs flashed through me. I blushed in shame.

The girls in the other cells must have endured similar punishment. Their tortured moans filtered through the door and added to my own. I had to lie there and listen to it until someone came for me.

When the guard did come, he tried to make me walk. I wouldn't even crawl. I pretended that my anus and legs, hurt so bad I couldn't get them to function. The man carried me. My tummy rested across his shoulders. My ass stuck lewdly in the air and my tits dangled against his back.

I wasn't as frightened now. I feared the pain, but

I was over halfway through my ordeal and knew it. I'd make it on sheer guts if I had to.

The stage was almost the same as it had been the night before. I expected to be spread-eagled and whipped again. It took me by surprise when they wheeled a cruel-looking frame onto stage. I felt a creeping chill shiver through me as the chains rattled.

I was dumped into the arms of the same two men who'd bound me the night before. I was thrown down on the support inside the frame. The board was barely wide enough to support my shoulders. The men jerked my arms and legs out and attached the cuffs. The support was pulled out from under my back and taken away. I was left hanging by all fours in the center.

The men tilted the frame up so I was standing and the audience could see better. One of the men began turning a handle. All four chains began to tighten at the same time. I felt myself being pulled up as the slack was taken out of the chains holding my arms. The leg irons became tight at the same time, but I didn't notice it as much.

As the chains kept tightening, I felt my legs being drawn out and up. By the time my arms were taut, my legs had been pulled into the splits. The tension on my legs was beginning to strain my sore gash. I bit my lips to keep from giving them the satisfaction of knowing how much it hurt.

I expected them to stop when I was tight. They didn't. I felt the pressure on my joints and the

agony of my stretching muscles. I was being drawn and quartered. I was on a pain rack. My head began to roll from side to side as my face turned a bright red. My body was screaming in anguish. My slit and ass were drawn wide open as my flesh tightened. I was sure my arms were going to be torn from my shoulders at any minute. They stopped.

One of the men got a paddle and smashed me across my taut stomach.

"Agh! Ooooh!" I wheezed as the dull ache of the blow was followed by the shrill agony of my frantic jerk.

"She's ready," the men announced to the audience. "We'll pack her for action."

I didn't understand. Whatever was going to happen had the men sitting on the edge of their seats. I knew it would hurt. From deep inside me each new torture brought new strength.

The men filled my cunt with Vaseline. It was uncomfortably sticky. It did soothe my brutalized cut and cunt-lips some. I didn't let on. It took some effort not to show even the little relief the goo gave me, but I managed.

The men backed off, adjusted the frame until it was flat again and lowered it until my ass rested on the floor. A little of the tension was relieved when my arms and legs no longer had to support the rest of me.

My nipples stiffened and thrilled in spite of their brutalized condition. I chewed on my lip, concentrating on the relief from pain. My belly turned to water and the lava of lust flowed through my veins. I squeezed my eyes shut and imagined other fucks and other climaxes. I knew that this was better than any I'd ever had before.

I started to defy my bondage. My hips ignored the shooting pain in my straining thighs and back. I bounced against the cock in spite of it. The men in the audience caught on. They stared at me in disbelief and amazement. They didn't do anything to stop it. They flailed away at their exposed cocks harder than ever.