Read Online Elicitation by William Vitelli - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: William Vitelli
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screamed again and rose to her tiptoes, trying to ease the pain.
Something large and thick shoved deep into her pussy. It forced its way farther and farther into her until it bottomed out within her, painfully deep. She shrieked at this new violation and tried to move her hips, but the dildo within her, attached by a steel rod to the platform on which she stood, held her fast. She could not raise herself off it, could not move her hips in any direction.
Each breath, each tiny rocking of her body, made her breasts bob and sway in small motions, causing the clamps to tug cruelly on her nipples. The dildo impaling her forced her to stand on tiptoe; she could not lower herself without pressing it far too deep. The manacles dug uncomfortably into her wrists, already tender from her earlier struggles. She began to cry; the sobs shook her body, made her breasts bounce and jerk against the clamps pulling them upward.
He lifted off the blindfold.
She realized with horror that she was chained up directly in front of a giant, floor-to-ceiling window. The illumination in the room was a cool, dim red, save for a single spotlight just above her head that bathed her body in bright while light. Beneath her in the late afternoon sun, the London street spread out, crowded with hurrying people.
“No!” she wept. “What if somebody looks up?”
“Then they’ll see a naked woman chained in the window fucking herself on a dildo,” he answered, his tone matter-of-fact.
She hung there for many long minutes, fighting not to move, struggling to control her sobs. She could not force herself to remain completely still. Her breasts hung heavily from the clamps, jiggling with every tiny movement. The muscles in her legs began to quiver from the strain of holding herself on tiptoes. Before long, she felt them give out. She used the last of her strength to lower herself as gently as she could. As she settled on the dildo, she cried out in pain, giving herself the first of many bruises deep inside.
The cord attached to the clamps on her nipples tightened, dragging her breasts upward. Tears poured down her face. The full force of her weight on the dildo quickly became more than she could bear, and she lifted herself onto her tiptoes again, shuddering with relief.
She could not hold it. Her strength failed again, even more quickly than it had before. She was forced to lower herself once more onto the dildo. She shrieked and tried to rock her hips, to keep it from pressing in the same place. Before long, the pain became too much to bear, and she rose onto her tiptoes once more, sobbing.
The third time she gave out and was forced back down onto the dildo, she found she could no longer summon the strength to rise any more. She shifted and rocked her hips back and forth, afraid to stop moving lest the pain become unbearable.
“That’s it,” he said. “Fuck that dildo. Ride it good.” White cream flowed from her, coated the rigid phallus, dripped onto the platform beneath her. Her desperate cries of pain softened, began to take on a different character.
“That’s it, little whore. Keep raping yourself. Give it to yourself. You like it when it hurts, don’t you?”
Her motions grew more frantic. As long as she kept moving, it could almost, almost feel good; but if she stopped, even for an instant, the pain became too intense. She struggled in her bonds, her body stretched tight, her nipples screaming, and a familiar tension began to grow inside her.
“No!” she sobbed. “I don’t like it! I don’t want it!” She willed herself to grind down onto the thing inside her, hurting herself, heedless of the people flowing in a river beneath her window. Her moans became screams. “I don’t like it!”
Then, without warning, it happened. A wave of pleasure, ferocious in its intensity, roared over her, taking her completely by surprise. She came hard, fast, thrashing and crying out in ecstasy. She contracted sharply around the dildo, every
Something large and thick shoved deep into her pussy. It forced its way farther and farther into her until it bottomed out within her, painfully deep. She shrieked at this new violation and tried to move her hips, but the dildo within her, attached by a steel rod to the platform on which she stood, held her fast. She could not raise herself off it, could not move her hips in any direction.
Each breath, each tiny rocking of her body, made her breasts bob and sway in small motions, causing the clamps to tug cruelly on her nipples. The dildo impaling her forced her to stand on tiptoe; she could not lower herself without pressing it far too deep. The manacles dug uncomfortably into her wrists, already tender from her earlier struggles. She began to cry; the sobs shook her body, made her breasts bounce and jerk against the clamps pulling them upward.
He lifted off the blindfold.
She realized with horror that she was chained up directly in front of a giant, floor-to-ceiling window. The illumination in the room was a cool, dim red, save for a single spotlight just above her head that bathed her body in bright while light. Beneath her in the late afternoon sun, the London street spread out, crowded with hurrying people.
“No!” she wept. “What if somebody looks up?”
“Then they’ll see a naked woman chained in the window fucking herself on a dildo,” he answered, his tone matter-of-fact.
She hung there for many long minutes, fighting not to move, struggling to control her sobs. She could not force herself to remain completely still. Her breasts hung heavily from the clamps, jiggling with every tiny movement. The muscles in her legs began to quiver from the strain of holding herself on tiptoes. Before long, she felt them give out. She used the last of her strength to lower herself as gently as she could. As she settled on the dildo, she cried out in pain, giving herself the first of many bruises deep inside.
The cord attached to the clamps on her nipples tightened, dragging her breasts upward. Tears poured down her face. The full force of her weight on the dildo quickly became more than she could bear, and she lifted herself onto her tiptoes again, shuddering with relief.
She could not hold it. Her strength failed again, even more quickly than it had before. She was forced to lower herself once more onto the dildo. She shrieked and tried to rock her hips, to keep it from pressing in the same place. Before long, the pain became too much to bear, and she rose onto her tiptoes once more, sobbing.
The third time she gave out and was forced back down onto the dildo, she found she could no longer summon the strength to rise any more. She shifted and rocked her hips back and forth, afraid to stop moving lest the pain become unbearable.
“That’s it,” he said. “Fuck that dildo. Ride it good.” White cream flowed from her, coated the rigid phallus, dripped onto the platform beneath her. Her desperate cries of pain softened, began to take on a different character.
“That’s it, little whore. Keep raping yourself. Give it to yourself. You like it when it hurts, don’t you?”
Her motions grew more frantic. As long as she kept moving, it could almost, almost feel good; but if she stopped, even for an instant, the pain became too intense. She struggled in her bonds, her body stretched tight, her nipples screaming, and a familiar tension began to grow inside her.
“No!” she sobbed. “I don’t like it! I don’t want it!” She willed herself to grind down onto the thing inside her, hurting herself, heedless of the people flowing in a river beneath her window. Her moans became screams. “I don’t like it!”
Then, without warning, it happened. A wave of pleasure, ferocious in its intensity, roared over her, taking her completely by surprise. She came hard, fast, thrashing and crying out in ecstasy. She contracted sharply around the dildo, every
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