Thread: Transporting Taylor (Dere and skittish_butterfly)

Despite the heat and his exhaustion, Martin could barely sleep. The adrenalin of the day's events, and the ecstasy of raping Taylor, left him fizzing with a kind of wired energy. He napped fitfully in a ragged old hammock strung across a side of the houses' wall. Plans for the next few days raced about inside his mind and he tried hard to calm himself down. Focusing on the high-pitched, hypnotic croaks of the nearby pond-frogs, he started to lull himself to sleep. Taylor's ear-splitting screams of agony quickly brought him back round to consciousness. Barely two hours had passed, enough time for Martin to salvage some kind of rest. She was breaking easy, he reflected with a satisfied smile. It was always the good girls, with their natural deference and desire to please, who made the best slaves. For the next hour he marveled at the power of her lungs as shriek after agonized shriek sang out from the cell. My own personalized concert, he thought with amusement. Then came the curses, more foul words pouring out of her mouth than she had ever used in her life. Desperate and pitiful entreaties to her parents after that as her suffering mounted. Finally her anguished cries to be released, pleading for him to stop the pain even though she knew it was helpless. The raging silence that followed encouraged Martin. He knew her self-nationalizations had begun, and by starting to negotiate with him she was submitting to her suffering. Her little-girl voice, ravaged by constant screams, now spoke again with a new tone. In a frantic, desperate litany Taylor offered up every delight of her body to Martin, if he would only let her out. He grew hard at listening to her describe what she would do to him, promising to suck his wonderful dick for hours, and the way this formerly modest, almost priggish woman was now devising every perversion she could think of to please him. She was begging him for the worst indignities, pleading to be fucked in any way and promising to enjoy it, as long as she was let go. She had snapped at the four-hour mark. Martin was not unsurprised her gym-toned body was a joy to fuck, but not tough enough for such strenuous torture. He let her suffer for another hour, dozing to the sounds of her shrieks. Her words grew steadily incoherent, her petulant threats that you can't fuck me if I die the only clear words among her babbling. Then he quietly paced up the steps, threw open the door and turned on the cell light. He smiled slightly the sight of her twitching, quivering body stark and white in the harsh glow, her pussy and asshole firmly presented towards him by the tight cage. That wasn't quite five hours, slave, Martin said in his flat cold voice. Not as tough as you thought you were, eh? Without your money and your fans and your rich dad, what are you? He let the sentence hang in the air with the stink and sweat. Just three holes. Three holes, meat for your master's breakfast. That's all you are. He knelt down behind the caged Taylor, then slowly but firmed pushed his rigid cock in her exposed asshole. Even after the previous night's punishment it was still a tight fit and Martin gripped the cage to give himself leverage. Taylor was completely unable to move, her ass like a wall socket. He slammed up against the cage repeatedly, occasionally pinching exposed pieces of Taylor's flesh as he fucked her roughly. Within a short while he came quick and fast, dispensing of his morning wood deep inside her ass. Standing up again with post-coital satisfaction, he walked around to the front to enjoy the sight of Taylor's face. To his intense shock and anger he saw her bitten lip. The Shaikh had made it clear she wasn't to be marked or marred on her face at all - now this red blemish stood out. Martin saw the crude attempt at a message on the floor and realized what she had done. Bitch! You nasty little bitch! Bad slave! He kicked the cage with a jarring rattle, and rubbed the message off the floor with his foot. Slave still hasn't learned her place. He was utterly furious, knowing that this mark - as minor as it was - would piss off his client no end. Hopefully, he reflected with some relief, it would heal up before they got to him. There was a few hours remaining till sunrise, when they would have to move on. But for now he needed her to be punished. He opened the cage door and pulled Taylor out by her ankle, as every muscle and bone in her body exploded in agony. Martin laid out her limp form spreadeagled on the floor, noting the knotted muscle cramps in her coltish thighs. She completely paralyzed by pain. He mounted her urgently and forcefully, aiming to pierce as deep as he could into her burning pussy. The vaginal rape she had experience so far was nothing compared to this new level of suffering. Martin fucked her with a furious anger and deliberate desire to make her hurt. Mocking her desperate pleas from earlier, he grabbed her legs and held them tight wrapped around him. Her perky tits bounced violently with every red-hot thrust. He sucked and licked her nipples in a cruel parody of earnest lovemaking. Forcing his tongue into her lolling mouth, he kissed her deeper and more passionately than any one of the ardent admirers. With her limp body like a ragdoll in his hands, he pounded her brutally into the concrete. When - after twenty minutes - he finally came in her, Martin collapsed on her prostate form with a satisfied sigh. You're getting better at this, slave, he hissed. Now thank your master for pleasuring you, and get on your feet. We're leaving soon.