Thread: Transporting Taylor (Dere and skittish_butterfly)

Martin allowed himself a broad smile as he watched Taylor's lithe body hanging in chains, wracked with pain and pleas. He loved it when a victim begged, and Taylor's gentle voice made her pitiful cries all the more amusing for him. From experience he knew she was building up to breaking point, but would still require a firm hand yet. He knew he had to slowly increase the pain, and tease the torture up until she finally broke down. Her psyche seemed fragile enough, with a submissive person just waiting for release. Faking her death hadn't been too hard. The bomb had disposed of most evidence, while the charred carcass sent back to the States would distract the forensic teams for a few days. They were the former remains of a large monkey, but the burned and shriveled mess would take time to identify as such, and by then Martin planned to have her well out of the country. But the ploy was more than just a smokescreen for their escape - it was yet another twist of mental torture with which he hoped to manipulate the despairing Taylor. The curry powder had obviously done its work and even just the light brushing had taken the sweating, screaming Taylor to a new plateau of pain. Martin put the pottle aside carefully on the floor, making sure he didn't spread any on himself. He walked around behind her again, taking in the delicious sight of his sweat-soaked body glistening in the lurid light. With a few more clicks of the winch he lowered her once more to her knees, slackening the pull on her shoulders. He reached around, forcing two of her fingers into Taylor's wet mouth. Once both were thoroughly moistened, he pushed one, then the other, slowly into her tiny pink asshole. She had a dancer's ass, he mused, as Taylor writhed in agony. Her impeccable legs terminated in this tight pair of high, firm mounds. They were squeezing together hard in an effort to push him out, but his determined probing could not be stopped. Stretching and widening the virgin hole with the dextrous fingers of one hand, he seized a fistful of her wet blond locks with the other to give him some leverage. Martin jerked her head back roughly several times as he fingered her ass, delighting the noises she made. When he felt she was softened up enough, he pressed his rigid cock hard up tight against the still-tiny hole. The penetration was slow but determined, as he forced his dick deep into her anal passage. Keeping one hand with a firm grip on her tangled mane, he rested the now free one on the small of her back to throw the full weight of his body behind his impalement of Taylor's once-virginal asshole. Grunting like a rutting boar, he pushed in hilt-deep with a final drive, using the the pivot of her suspended body to rock her back and forth. Taylor's asshole was the hottest and tightest that he had ever pierced. She had shaped her body to athletic perfection, and this more than rewarded Martin's pleasure as she desperately kept trying to squeeze him out with her muscular buttcheeks. Her futile efforts just increased the exhilarating pleasure on his cock. He smoothly drew the hand on her back across her sweat-soaked, quivering flesh and around to her stomach. It was super-taunt, drawn tight by years of discipline. Martin could feel the honed muscles of her belly pull hard as she tried and failed to push him out. In his firm grip Taylor's long, elegant frame was like a shining eel as it wriggled and writhed about. Their bodies did not slap together so much as slide. As she gyrated and rotated on the end of his burning cock, Martin felt his legs nearly give out from under him in pure pleasure. Releasing her hair and holding her slender hips tight, he began to rapidly and viciously pound the now stretched and torn asshole. After an assault of some ten minutes, causing Taylor previously unknown and now horrifically real agonies, he finally came in her with full force once more. Squeezing her sides hard he gritted his teeth to suppress a bellow of triumph, crushing it down to a long angry hiss. After three long minutes he finally slid out and let Taylor slump forward in her bonds, as he quickly ran downstairs - rigid cock still red and raging - and to the well. Martin drew another bucket from the depths, to cool himself off and get refreshed for another round of a rape. He then ran that inside and upstairs again, leaving it in a corner of the cell. Taking a small steel bowl he filled it a little from the bucket, then left it below Taylor's head. She would be able to reach down and lap up the water like a cat, but at agonizing cost to her back and shoulders. As her pink tongue licked frantically at the rancid water, Martin returned downstairs. He took up the leash of the old grey goat that stood there munching on fodder, and it gave him a dead-eyed gaze in return. It's wool was matted and great with filth, while a par of yellowed and chipped horns swept back aggressively. Like the cottage it was once property of Indian Army torturers, and it was a tool like any other. Taking a chipped teacup he also scooped up a near-full cup of raw salt - immediately firing the goat's interest as it now followed him avidly - and went back upstairs. Carefully balancing the cup and leading the goat, he stood in front of Taylor once more. He kicked away the waterbowl, and walked around behind the kneeling Taylor. Letting the goat lick greedily at the salt for the moment he hitched her up one notch, so that her long legs were bowed and she was not-quite standing, and the tension of the chain kept her balance. Taking up the salt again he smeared a damp clod around her ravaged pussy, stroking it across her chafed lips and clit and forcing some inside her crushed box. All the small cuts and torn skin from the earlier rapes now burned a thousandfold as the salt settled into them. Brushing his hands clean, Martin spoke once more in an utterly flat voice Bet you wish you could make that pain go away, eh? Well, meet our little friend here! The goat needed little encouragement. Martin had been holding it back but now stood aside as it leaped forward. Its tongue was flicking out, all eight inches of powerful muscle and covered with a sandpaper-type texture. Only an inch thick it moved like a supple worm, flapping about far faster than any human could manage with theirs. Taylor's salt-smeared pussy was positioned at the perfect height, and the excited goat feverishly ran that muscular tongue around, across and into her cunt. Like an expert lover it seemed to know all the perfect places. Despite the sensation of being torn by the harsh skin, it was firing up feelings in her that she had never previously experienced. As her firm thighs began to tremble and her body betrayed her, Taylor realized the goat was bringing her to her first real vaginal orgasm.