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Chapter 5 Surprise Visit

The couple had been getting along genially, as Sallie nursed Harriet’s marking injuries. In just a couple of days, Harriet was much recovered from the ordeal, but Mr. Thompson had explained to her that he would wait until she was fully healed up after marking before engaging in further physical torment. He enjoyed assessing the damage he had caused, but favored a blank canvas before administering fresh injury. He waited at least a couple of weeks, for his subs to fully heal before using them that way again, but did do a surprise inspection days later to check on progress and used them in a purely sexual way, while they the residual pain of the marking was still fresh.

So, while Sallie was at her appointment, Mr. Thompson popped in to inspect his newly marked property. Harriet was surprised, but delighted to see him. He used the key he had demanded she give him to enter. Harriet still lingered lazily in bed, though not quite asleep. She was sensually touching her tender areas and day-dreaming about how they got to that way and when she would experience it again. The thought of his joy in inflicting pain driving her desire. She was ever-mindful of his command not to masturbate; she’d stopped when she thought she had crossed the line from sensual to sexual.

Mr. Thompson was warm and genial with her, as he sauntered into her bedroom with a big roguish grin, she hadn’t seen.

“Well…? Wake up sleepy head! Still in bed at nearly 11am?”

She beamed up at him with her big gorgeous hazel eyes and smiled, hearing him in such high spirits. He had check on her once each day since marking night. He had been pleasant and amiable on the phone letting his honeyed baritone voice fill her with desire. Now, he pulled back the covers while gently kissing her lips. She was naked, with her hand in her crotch and her thighs squeezed together tight against her forearm.

“Hmm… well well… I hope you are thinking of me, and keeping my stricture against masturbating, whore!?” He harumphed.

“Oh… Yesss! Of course, Sir. You’re all I think about, Sir.” She said and kissed back more passionately than he had.

He gently drew her up out of bed and into his arms. She wrapped her legs around him and let herself be carried. He held her up by her bountiful ass and walked with her into the en-suite bathroom. Once inside, he stood her up on the tile floor and had her slowly whirl as he sat on the toilet and scrutinized her recovering body.

“Good morning, my sweet little whore! Let’s see how you are recovering.”

As usual, he had a bag of goodies with him. He fished in the bag for some thin rope, while facing away from him and holding her hands behind her back. When he found it, he stood up, brought Harriet’s hands together above her head and tied them at the wrist. He then tied the rope around her neck into a noose and swung the rope over the heavy-duty shower curtain rod (an average person could do pullups on it without worry; another recent addition provided by Mr. Thompson) and made her get into the tub before pulling the rope taut and tying it to the rod.

Mr. Thompson unhurriedly ran his hands over her body, twisting her around to get better access. He felt the welts and the now healing bruises, admiring his handiwork on her back and unhurriedly feeling and examining her pussy with her still somewhat plump and tender labia. He took his phone out and shined its flashlight in to get a better view of the damage he had caused.

From the bag, he pulled two thin leather straps with buckles and tightening screw clips attached. He brusquely pushed her legs apart, letting her choke on the rope. She gasped and grunted, but said nothing, as she struggled for air.

He wrapped one strap around her right thigh, buckled it, then clipped her right labia and tightened down the screw until it was secure. His very presence and manipulation had already caused her to be sopping wet and slippery down there. He had to really tighten the screw to get the rubberized metal clip to bite down and hold onto her labia. When clipped the lower part of the same lip, the strap seemed too loose and he to adjusted it, pulling her lip taut to her thigh.

The whole time, she was writhing and moaning from excitement. She wanted him to rub her large bulbous clitoris in his fat fingers, as he stage-managed her genitals. He looked up at her and smiled, then flicked the chubby clit with his index finger, firmly pulling her pussy lip and attaching the clip and tightening the screw. She winced, then moaned closing her eyes tightly as the tweaked clit pulsed from the trauma.

Half her vagina was now open to view, prominently exhibiting evidence of the many scratches, welts, bruises and cuts from her marking. He curled his index finger and gently rubbed up the slit, nudging the clit just lightly. This felt delicious to her after the sharpness of the flick. He grabbed her other lip and promptly clipped it and slung Ankara escort the strap around her leg, deftly tightened the strap and clipped the lower end. Her whole pussy was now openly displayed.

He leaned in with the light to scrutinize the damage and recovery. She was a fast healer, he observed. It had been just three days and much of the damage from the flogger handle was healing over. He proceeded to gape her open to assess conditions deeper down her cavity. He started with three fingers, flaring them open as he slid them in and out of her.

He worked mechanically, with almost medical precision, or like removing the dipstick to check the oil on and old Buick. And yet, she loved the attention, and had to calm herself, knowing he would not tolerate her coming like this. She was so keyed up; she had anticipated missing him for the long two weeks and here he was with his hands in her hungry aching cunt.

“Sir, please…”

He knew, of course, but he was not going to allow it.

“No, you nasty funkin’ whore, you can’t cum yet! Such dirty slut!” He said speaking harshly for the first time, but only mockingly.

He slapped at her swollen clit and popped a fourth finger into her, and she had to choke herself to slow the orgasm train. She was desperately trying to think of other things to keep herself from coming. Stopped not by the punishment she would receive for an illicit orgasm, but trying not to disappoint her Master. She knew he would prefer to punish her under better circumstances. He didn’t want to strike her while she was still recovering from the marking. He might tie her up or fuck her roughly, but nothing that would impede her healing from the marks he had already given her, which meant he’d have to wait to punish her.

She lost herself in a mental rabbit hole trying to ignore what he was doing to her nether region; when suddenly, she was roused from her reverie by the doorbell, and was instantly pissed off, as her Master turned toward the sound distractedly. She assumed Sallie must have forgotten her key, or some such nonsense and was now disrupting her Master from taking pleasure from her suffering and her great delight at providing it.

She was thinking of Sal and how he always leaving his keys or wallet or some important document at home. But Sallie had made a concerted effort not to forget things or misplace them. In the past three days, she had never missed a beat in caring for Harriet, not forgotten anything at the market or when to medicate or bathe her mistress. Sal was sloppy and careless; Sallie was nothing like that. In the last few days, she had gone through every corner of their crappy apartment, which was now spotlessly clean.

Mr. Thompson turned casually and silently left the bathroom at a leisurely pace, leaving Harriet hanging on the shower rod. She was at least able to close her legs and thereby stand up taller to prevent choking while she eagerly awaited his return, and probably scream at Sallie for the interruption.

She heard voices, at the front door, living room and then approaching the bedroom. There was her Master’s voice, of course, but the other was not Sallie’s mousy alto after all. This was a basso profundo. She heard chuckling and mild ruckus as the voices neared the bathroom door from the bedroom. She faced the tiled wall of the tub as he had left her, after fingering her from behind, her luscious half-moons exposed and vulnerable.

“Look at this whore! Isn’t she a fuckin’ work of art?!” He said puffed with pride as if he had created her himself.

The situation confused and frightened her. She had no idea who was with them and what it was about. She became very nervous because he had mentioned he would share her with friends, when “he got bored with her.” Could he already be bored with her?! She was in a panic, her mind roiling. She thought she had done well and brought him much pleasure, but had no idea what others might do for him. She was desperate to turn around and look at her company, but knew instinctively she was not allowed, until told to do so.

“Woof, Ty, she’s all that, and more” the booming bass voice intoned.

She felt a sudden caress and a tight squeeze of her plump right cheek. She couldn’t tell for sure if it was her Master or the booming bass voice. Then she felt, what definitely was, her Master’s large hand press against her lower back callously and demandingly pushing her forward and down.

“Poke your ass out, whore!” He said in a terse commanding tone and smacked her luscious derriere.

She did so as best she could, though the effort required her to choke herself on the rope. She deeply arched her back and pushed back to present her ass to Mr. Thompson and the stranger. She felt what she was sure were her Master’s big strong hands of pull the globes of her ass apart, then a fat finger slid down the crack past the hole and into her retracted and exposed cunt. It swirled around, gathered some of Escort Ankara her juices, then strayed to her pink rosebud and plunged in. Instinctively, she thrust back against it, so violently that she nearly choked herself out as the finger wiggled and twirled in her tight hole, then all too quickly pulled out.

She was suddenly so turned on, though still nervous about the stranger; the feeling was electric, but not knowing whose finger it was, and the persistent idea that she might be losing her Master’s interest was making her anxious. But still… she couldn’t contain a deep moan as the intruding finger exited her hungry hole. It had only been a short time since their last encounter, but these days she lived in a constant state of excitement and anticipation.

She had restricted herself to some light caresses of her tender areas, ever-mindful of his command against masturbating. A restriction which made her desperately more aroused, while he waited for her to recuperate.

“Sweet fuckin’ hole, bitch!” the booming voice sang, then she felt a hot slap on her voluptuous rear.

“Thank you, Sir!” She finally said, wondering if it was proper etiquette to speak.

“She’s a sweet fucking whore in every way. Let me show you,” Ty crowed.

Out of his bag of goodies, he produced a pair of bamboo sticks about three inches long, which looked like pencils sharpened at both ends. He had “booming voice” spread her cheeks and positioned the two sticks to keep her ass spread, with the hole readily available.

“Go ahead, Bran, try it again.”

The stranger was named Brandt; he again pushed his fat finger into her sweet hole and twirled it around. She moaned more lustily this time, then felt a sharp smack on her bum.

“What do you say, whore?!” Mr. Thompson demanded pulling her hair back and smacking her face from behind.

“Mmmm… Thank you, Sir!”

Brandt pulled his finger out and Mr. Thompson shone his light into the space between the bamboo sticks holding her buttcheeks apart.

“See, the marks… there and there…?” She felt a poke “there and there” from a longer pointy stick Mr. Thompson had taken out of the bag. “That was done with a very thin crop. Oooough, she would have howled from that, except I had her gagged and choking.”

“Hmm… hm, mmm hmm.”

“That was three nights ago, she’s healed some. See these other marks?” He poked again. “You’ll never guess what it’s from!”

“Hmm… nah… dunno.”

“I shoved a fucking flogger handle up this bitch’s ass… her cunt too. The handle… ya’ know…? It was rough rawhide. And… I got this fuckin’ bitch ready to cum from it too. I’m telling you this whore is one nasty fuck animal. Here, let’s open her up some more. I’ll show you.”

The square area, framed by the sticks, and her spread out vagina resembled a pseudo-medical space. The four-by-four inch “field” of her ass was outlined by the sticks and the walls of her asscheeks. He reached in the bag again, and this time brought out a large clear plastic speculum and some lube. He squeezed lube on her open hole then gestured for Brandt to be “his guest.” He proceeded to push two fingers in her lubed hole, then three, then four. She moaned quietly at the attention, but he was moaning too as he enjoyed the sensuousness of her bunghole and inner ass muscles pulling and squeezing on his fingers.

When Mr. Thompson thought she was loose enough, he tapped Brandt, and pointed the end of the speculum at the now gaping hole. He callously pushed it all the way to in one go with little concern and began to turn the adjuster to further open her hole. The clear plastic speculum’s light provided intimate views of the interior walls of her anal canal. They both peered in to appreciate the roughed-up sides of her hole; redness and scratches still visible.

“See, the damage that handle did in here. It’s so fucking awesome!… I’m tellin’ you… she took it like a fuckin’ champ…” he paused as if considering his next words. Buuut,… y’see?… that’s this bitch. You have to adjust to the tolerance of the sub. I wouldn’t try this on Irma… she doesn’t have the tolerance. After a while you can go a little harder and keep pushing the boundaries. But don’t break the bitch. Find the balance.”

She was disturbed to have strange hands groping and poking at her, while so defenseless and exposed. She knew he was deliberately humiliating and dehumanizing her; she struggled with it, but it was that one thought that stunned her with fear. “Had he already grown tired of her?” and “was she about lose him? Was she to be turned over to this… Brandt, who was scrutinizing her most private spaces, like he was buying a used car, without even being introduced? The thought plagued and made her barely notice what they did to her physically.

“You see her back?” Ty asked, giddy with pride.

Mr. Thompson traced his fingers through the maze of welts and bruises of his “tree painting” Escort Bayan down her back, ending with her glorious ass and the hashmarks of the crop providing the pot for his “tree.” He pinched her ass and twisted his fingers to add to the sting. She yelped. Brandt’s hands joined her Master’s, he poked at the rosebud shaped bruises left by the knotted flogger.

The dull pain of her Master’s fat finger going through her was reassuring, in a way: what she understood of Master Ty’s plans for her was that she would not see him much for the next two weeks, then he would “re-mark” in the comfortable soundproof playroom of his home, where she hoped to atone (for denying him the pleasure of her screams during her first marking) by shrieking her lungs out for him. She was desperate to know this was still the plan.

She had thought of little else the last couple of days in bed. She had enjoyed their rough sexual play before the marking, but she could how much more he enjoyed her torture and wanted to give him that. She would, of course, relish any sexual contact with her Master, but she was eager to suffer unmitigated pain for him, knowing the delight it would bring him.

Having gotten to her ass, Brandt groped it hard and squeezed. He poked playfully into the speculum and just past it to tap the inner flesh of her colon. He pulled his finger out and pushed right into her exposed cunt. It was sopping wet and hot to the touch.

“Ummm, this bitch is so fucking hot. Ya’ mind, Ty?”

Mr. Thompson nodded casually and Brandt added two more fingers and began thrusting them into her, drawing deep lusty moans from Harriet. It felt delectable to her to be so full with the speculum filling up her hole and yet leaving her ass gaping for access. She was instantly wracked with guilt for revel in the stranger’s touch, in front of her Master, also instantly on the verge of coming again. But, under the circumstances, could not ask permission. She thought it would be disrespectful to her Master and would rather be punished for coming without permission than brazenly ask while a stranger finger-banged her gaping cunt.

She silently suffered trying to keep herself from orgasm. But she couldn’t help pushing back against his fingers; the bamboo sticks pressed into her flesh with her efforts to nudge her ass toward the intruding fingers. The clips on her labia pulled taut as he assaulted her now gaping hole. The position caused her to pull on the noose; she used her tied hands on the rope to keep from completely choking out. Her legs began to quiver; she was about to lose control, but just when she thought she couldn’t hold, suddenly, her hole was empty.

Unnoticed by her Mr. Thompson had recognized her impending climax and signaled Brandt. Everything seemed to stop all at once; she felt cool air drift into her gaping holes, making her truly notice their emptiness. She bucked backward seeking those fingers, but they were gone. They stood to either side of her and each took a massive half-moon and pulled them apart until the bamboo sticks fell, and Mr. Thompson pressed down on her back to make her arch further and get better access, then pushed the end of an even more massive speculum into her open vagina. He turned the screw until it was open to maximum capacity.

She couldn’t get over the sensation of being so full and gaped open at the same time, now in both holes. She had to hold on tight to the rope with her hands; Mr. Thompson was having a tug of war with her pressing down on her back as she tried desperately to keep from choking. He finally released her and she was able to return to a less tense hanging position.

The men took a step back and admired the condition of the subwhore. Brandt ran his hand over her plump ass and nudged a finger deep first into her ass and then her pussy speculum and playfully twirled it around. She yelped, no longer close to orgasm as before.

“You think her ass is nice… wait ’til you see these tits!”

Ty wrenched Harriet around, so that the noose tightened around her neck, but she was finally facing her attackers and saw Brandt for the first time. He was a huge tall Viking, though he was ten years older than her, he had a youthful look that made him look more like a giant pudgy boy, even with the bushy blond beard. He stood there with a big stupid grin on his giant face.

Brandt Nilsen was thirty-nine years old; he owned a small construction company. He was built like a tank: huge barrel chest and legs like tree trunks. He stood in the bathroom wearing a tight black tee-shirt and ripped jeans. She could tell from the crotch of the jeans that he his package matched his massive body. In truth, he had an even bigger cock than Mr. Thompson.

Ty pointed out Harriet’s tits. The gorgeous globes now covered with welts and marks from his mistreatment. He mushed them together to make one giant uniboob, to Brandt’s delight, who guffawed and reached in to get a squeeze. Mr. Thompson let go, and then took her left nipple between his thumb and index finger and pulled the tit up and out to demonstrate for Brandt the marks underneath.

“See, these red lines?… rubber bands! Man, they are fun. And, you get a nice even distribution too. She enjoyed this too. The fucking nasty fuck-pig!

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