textfiles/sex/EROTICA/C/cindyret.txt

Archive-name: Violent/cindyret.txt
Archive-author: 
Archive-title: Cindy's Return - Another sequel to Cindy's Torment

Sequel-to: Cindy's Torment


It was a hot day.  Outside the window of my executive office, the harsh
blue sky was nearly Grecian in its intensity.  The air had that
conditioned bite, like freon freezing in your lungs.  My tie was
loosened down to the second button, and my secretary, perched on my
lap, had opened her blouse down to the end.  We were deep in
preparation.  We had our responsibilities.  It was time for another
session with Cindy, the corrupted innocent we had so cruelly abused.
The worst of her wounds would by now have healed, and we could once
again exercise ourselves with abandon.

The buzzer I had placed on the outside door rang.  This would be her.
My secretary -- this time, let's call her Susan -- got up and went out
of the inner door to my office.  If it weren't the unfortunate Cindy on
the monitor, she could always button herself up before receiving the
guest.  If it were, it mattered little.  I stroked my penis through my
tailored suit pants at the delicious thought.

The door opened and Susan came through.  At once I knew something was
wrong.  The first thing through should have been Cindy, and she should
have pitched forward onto her face as Susan hurled her inside.  I
lunged for my desk drawer.

"Freeze, asshole, or you just might lose your head."

I froze.  Fuck, shit, goddamn, piss and cunt!  Cindy, in a bright red
low-cut dress and red hose, had walked calmly through the door.  In her
hand was a sliber-blue pistol, a .22, what Nancy Reagan (my first
secretary -- oh, the things we taught each other!) once called "a nice
ladylike gun".  She must have kept it in her bra to get past security.

I was fucked.  I was dead.  Maybe I should go ahead and make a last
stand.

"Susan, kneel, hands behind your head.  Asshole, stand up very slowly
and walk around the desk."

The shadow prevents you from seeing very far into the barrel, but it
doesn't stop you trying.  I rose slowly, keeping my hands spread out in
front of me.

"Cindy --"

"Shut the fuck up, you evil fucking fuck!"  she screamed.  All
composure left her face, and tears began to well at the corners of her
slitted eyes.  I had thought to trick her, but now I realized it would
be very dangerous to try.  I went around the desk.  She gestured at the
floor next to Susan.  Awakwardly, I assumed the same kneeling pose.
Cindy was behind us.  I closed my eyes and waited.

And waited.

She left us waiting to die for five minutes.  Not a sound came from
behind, except her heavy breathing, slowly regularizing.  Finally she
spoke, but not to me.

"Susan."  Very calm.

Susan started at the sudden noise.

"Turn around,  Slowly.  Put these on your wrists.  In front."

I heard handcuffs clank on the floor ebhind us, and saw Susan turn to
obey.  Now I knew we wouldn't die at once.  Was this a blessing?
Images flashed through my mind of our previous session with Cindy.  My
limp disk stiffened even as my mind filled with horror.  This could not
happen to me.  There must be a way out.  The cuffs chinked shut on
Susan's wrists.

"Now, asshole, cross your wrists behind your back.  Susan, tie them
with this wire.  Tight.  Very tight.  Do it right the first time or I'll
blow -- I'll blow your fucking head off!"

Could she do it?  I wasn't sure what to hope.  I obeyed her orders and
felt the wire cutting into my wrists.  Cindy had crossed to my side so
she had a clear view.  Susan didn't slack; I had trained her well.  Was
her loyalty so easily transferred?  Was she the slave of any slut that
came down the pike?  The pain in my wrists, the blood dammed in my
hands, the betrayal, all combined and I began to twist my face in
anger.  As soon as Susan finished, though Cindy planted her swinging
foot right one my cheek.  Stunned, bleeding, I fell to the floor, legs
jerking straight out.

"Now the legs, Susan."  She paused, calm again.  "Tell me, sir, you
don't mind if I call you asshole, do you?  I mean no disrepect."

Was she talking to me?  "Uh, uh, I, no, I mean, no, I mean, I don't
mind." Fuck, it hurt.  And Susan was not knotting my ankles any more
loosely than my wrists.  nad after all, I was anm asshole, wasn't I?
Why should I take offense?  The narcotic haze of passivity and
submission I had always induced in my victims crept around the corners
of my own mind.  I couldn't trick her.  I couldn't fight her.  She
would do to me whatever she wanted, and what she wanted would be
horrible.  Maybe I could take it.  Maybe I couldn't.  It didn't
matter.  I would.  With that my dick stiffened again.

"Mistress," Susan said.  At once my feeling of betrayal returned,
fighting but losing against the fog of immotility.  "May I speak?"

"What is it, s-slave?"  Hearing the stutter, her voice toughened.
"What the hell do you want?"  Suddenly I realized that this was it!
Susan could talk to her, tell some fool story about her own torment and
how she had been forced to help, get Cindy on her side, then take
advantage of her trust.

We would get out of this yet, and then Cindy would be ours.

"Shall I tie his hands and feet together, mistress?"

Or maybe not.

"No, slave.  That would interfere with certain diversions I have
planned for his asshole.  But it is a fine thought."

"Thank you, mistress."

"Now roll him onto his back."

The movement twisted my wrists and bright sparks of pain flew past my
brow.  Now I had stopped thinking.  I was too disoriented.  Blood, not
a lot but more than enough, ran down my cheek -- and did it mingle with
tears?  I think it must have.

"Look," Cindy whispered, "my asshole's bleeding.  How nice.  How --
fucking -- nice!"  Knocking Susan aside, she bent down and slapped my
face back and forth five or ten times.  I really don't know.  Blood
flew into my closed eyes, leaking and stinging through the lids.
Oddly, I thought of the scene in Vertigo when the policeman fall off
the roof.  That was me, but I would never hit bottom.  I felt Cindy
wipe her hand on my white shirt.

"Open up his clothing, slave."

My eyes still shut, I felt my jacket and shirt opening, then my belt
and pants.  My cock bulged against my white briefs.  My pants around my
knees, my jacket and shirt pulled back to my elbows, bound me yet more
tightly.

"Look, he likes it.  Pull those damn things down.  Now."

It sprang free, lolling ridiculously back against my belly.  I knew it
would be purple and I felt it shudder.  I felt more vulnerable than
ever.

"Now where did I put that knife?"

My eyes flew open.  Cindy was going through her purse.  No.  No.
Susan!  Say something!  Anything!

"Ah, here it is," Cindy said, bringing out a reasonably sized, very
sharp kitchen knife.

Oh my fucking God.  I thought, incongruously, at least make yourself a
smaller target, you thing, you tallywhacker!  But it seemed determined
to enjoy its last moments.  The gorge rose in my throat, and I shat
myself.

"You pig!"  Now she was outraged.  "Susan!  Shove his face in it!"

"Yes, mistress."

"Now eat, asshole!  Remember what you did to me?  Now eat shit and die,
motherfucker!"

My manhood spared for the moment, I sucked down the vile stuff with
something approaching relief.  But I couldn't hold it down, and finally
my cock sagged.  Cindy noticed my gagging when Susan pulled her up.

"Get him into the washroom.  When he's done, clean him up."  Calm
again.

Susan dragged me quickly to my feet and I stumbled into my private
washroom, Cindy at our heels.  I threw up into the toilet as soon as
Susan shoved my head into it.  When I was done, she pulled me back out
and left me kneeling, then went for a washrag.

"You slut!  I said clean him up!"  Two hard slaps sent Susan reeling.

Susan's tongue, flinching as it was, felt good on my face and then on
my asshole.  It was the first pleasure I'd had since Cindy had come
in.  I was grateful.  Every part of me.  Susan began to sob as she did
it, and that only increased my pleasure.  Just like the old days.

"You may have a little water, slave."

Still crying, Susan said, "Thank you, mistress" in a very meek voice,
one I knew so well.

Cindy dragged me by the collar back out into office.  The knife lay
next to her purse in the middle of the floor.

"Now, where were we?  Ah yes, the knife.  Susan, come here."

From the floor, I saw Susan approach and kneel.  Cindy quickly cut all
her clothing from her.  But what would she wear home?  Perhaps that wasn't
in the plan.  I saw that Susan's nipples were erect.  This was hardly a
surprise.  Cindy had put the gun down for a moment, but Susan wasn't
even looking at it.  Quickly Cindy took it up again.

"Put these cuffs on your ankles," she said, drawing out another pair
from beneath her dress.  Susan rushed to obey, then returned to her
kneeling position.  "No, no, no," Cindy said almost tenderly, "on your
back.  And pull up your knees as high as you can."  Once Susan had
assumed this obscene posture of readiness, Cindy wired her cuffs
together, and left her there.  Though the gun served little use now,
she kept it as she stalked over to the place we kept our toys.  She
brought the box over to where we both lay.

She sorted through all the toys, finally drawing out a short leather
whip with many tails.  She asked me to please kneel up, and I struggled
into the position as best I could.  Once I was there, she commenced to
torment my chest, belly, and thighs, with a varying rhythm, no hard,
now soft.  I screwed up my face against the amazing pain.  My dick went
limp.  Uncaring, she continued to mark what felt like every inch of the
front of my body, except the flaccid three inches of my cock.  Once I
was well marked and sobbing uncontrollably, she began to concentrate on
my nipples and underarms, hard, steady bites that made me gasp and
moan.  At once, it became too much, and I screamed, there in my
carefully soundproofed office, with its double frosted windows and
security doors.  She shut me up with the whip on my unbloodied cheek,
paused for a moment, and inserted an inflatable gag.  She pumped it up
so hard I could barely breathe, then continued one my nipples and
underarms.

I could no longer stay upright, and I pitched over onto my face, barely
missing her and nearly breaking my nose.  Amazingly, I enjoyed a short
reprieve, though many of the lash-marks hurt worse once they were left
to themselves.  Peeking through slitted eyes, I saw Cindy returning to
the toybox, and coming back to me with the oversized dildo with which
Susan and I had assaulted her ass before.  I had been expecting this.

First Cindy fucked Susan with it for a few moments.  I saw her strain
and wriggle, and flinch in pain as it struck her cervix.  having
moistened it this way, Cindy returned to me, yanked me to a bent-over
kneeling position by my hair, and without ceremony inserted it
carefully and steadily into my asshole.  I flexed and grasped around
the huge thing impaling me, my cock stiffening to parallel it, trying
but failing to gasp in pain through the constricting gag.  More and
more of it slid in, Poking impossibly far in to my abdomen, filling me
obscenely and terrifyingly.  I wanted to pump against but I feared it
would be fatal.  But Cindy did it for me as soon as the thing was (I
suppose) fully lodged, drawing it back out, an excruciating and
delirious sensation, then back in hard, and so for a quick dozen
thrusts, as I tossed my head and clenched my eyes.  My cock was
pumping, and no doubt sensing the climax building, Cindy rammed it home
one final time and left me to kneel helplessly impaled.  My muscles
tried to force out the intruder, but it was too firmly implanted in my
bowels.

My partial asphyxiation left me in a trance as Cindy left me there.  I
could not possibly recount it in words.  I remember seeing, through my
wide open and fixed eyes, blurred motions that must have been Cindy
whipping Susan's under-thighs vigorously, then fucking her with a
strap-on.  Lucky Susan, I thought, to have such a stern mistress; how
her arms and legs must ache.  When I came back to myself, still dazed
and abused but no longer confused, I saw Cindy squatting on Susan's
face, her garter belt riding to either side of her face, riding out
what seemed to be a tremendous orgasm.  Cindy's whole face and chest
were red, her long hair tossing back and forth, and when she came she
howled a weird, undulating wolf-song of transcendental rapture.  The
strain on my cock became too great....

When I woke up, my mouth was clear, and it seemed that I had been
untied and then rebound, because feeling had returned to my hands and
feet.  The great phallus still broke me open as cruelly, and as I
became aware of it my rectum began to spasm, spreading to my
immobilized butocks and thighs.  I shook my head ro clear it.  I had
surely almost strangled to death.  But Cindy had saved me.  At last a
real hope would begin to grow.  The pupil had simply exceeded the
master.

I opened my eyes, steadying my muscles by an act of will.  Susan had
also been retied, in a doggy position, her wrists secured to her
knees.  Her hands were cuffed, and her knees secured by a thin rubber
tube we used as a rope.  Wire joined the two.  Her mouth now bore the
inflatable gag, and her eyes were covered by a tight black blindfold.
God, she was beautiful.  Cindy was behind her, striping her ass with a
cane I kept by my desk.  Now she saw my movements and stopped.  Susan
began to sob loudly through the gag.

"Mistress, may I speak?"  This would be the moment of truth.

"What is it, asshole?  That's the largest dildo you had.  Isn't it
enough?"

She took up the gun from her belt and dropped the cane.

"Go ahead, talk, that's what you wanted, wasn't it, asshole?  Wasn't
it?"

Quickly she strode behind me and grabbed my hair.  She jerked me to my
knees from where I had fallen onto my side, and began to pump the base
of the dildo.  She worked it roughly in and out of me as I spoke.  The
pain was incredible, but it rubbed my prostate hard and I knew I would
surely come within a few minutes of this intense stimulation.

"Mistress, I -- ah! -- when we initiated you, we -- ungh -- hoped for
this, this transformation, this -- ai! -- flowering from Justine to
Juliette!  But we never, oh, oh, never thought it would happen so
quickly, so completely!"

"Shut up.  You're boring.  I don't know what you mean by Juliette."
She stopped working me and left it buried again deep within my scraping
anus, filling me by her move with regret and gratitude.  My cock
throbbed and my legs pumped quite involuntarily, but I quieted down.

"May I explain, mistress?"

"All right.  Asshole."

"De Sade write two major novels, Justine and Juliette.  In the first,
the noble heroine, Justine, was constantly set upon by villains who
conducted the cruellest villainies upon her, always narrowly escaping
the serious injuries and death suffered by her fellow victims, who were
treated far worse than we treated you."  And worse than you have
treated us, I thought, but I also thought it unwise to comment.

"So?  Wait a second, I just remembered something.  No, go on talking."

"The second novel, Juliette, featured a heroine who was a villain
herself.  She both sought out and loved the tortures which had so
abased her sister, Justine.  And she was quick to torture and kill
others for her own amusement."

As I continued she crossed back to her purse and drew something out.
It fit in her hand; I couldn't see what it was.  She returned to me and
sat cross- legged on the floor before me.  My cock bobbed obscenely as
she slapped it back and forth, very hard, with the flat of her hand.
When she stopped, I continued speaking, but through clenched teeth.

"This is the state I initiated Susan and yourself into.  Now, you -- "
The sight of the sewing kit in her hand stopped me abruptly.  As I
stopped, she slapped me again, right across the face where I was
already injured.  Though I could no longer see through the burst of
rekindled pain, I did my best to continue.

"You are beyond pleasure and pain now.  You understand your own
contradictory impulses and how to reconcile them.  You know that --
AAAAAGGGHHHH!"

I had never had my nipple pierced before.  The sewing needle drove on
through as I continued to scream, followed by thread.  Strangely, I
wondered what color it was.  What did I look like?  It was
unimaginable.  Now the other nipple.  I held myself still only by the
fear that the needle would slip and do we worse hurt.  Now the thread
went back through the first nipple, mercifully (or to avoid losing the
strength of my flesh) retracing the first hole, and now the whole thing
was tightened.  The thread cut atrociously, and now it was going back
and forth, back and forth, as Cindy hummed a little melody before me.
Now she knotted the thread and snapped it.

"Yes, yes, I see," she said, "very interesting.  Now, I'm afraid this
next part may hurt just a little."

The needle stabbed through my scrotum, low and in front, between the
balls, and came back out.  The pain was nearly as much, and even more
humiliating.  It came out the underside, and she looped it through the
hole a few more times.  Then my balls were yanked up towards my swollen
cock, which must have been two inches past its usual erect length at
this point.  She could stretch the flesh only so far, which she duid,
and then pinched out the fine membrane on the underside and began
sewing my sac to my penis.  At this time all the pain had become
overwhelming and, while I noticed what she was doing surely, it was
somehow neutral.  Of course it was pain -- what wasn't?  At the same
time it was oddly delicious.  I was in an endorphin trance again.

She finished with this work, tied off the thread, and then grabbed the
end of my shaft and pulled it back hard to my belly.  Now the needle
went through the underside of my navel, looped through again a few
times, and on through the membrane under the glans.  This time she
didn't use just one hole, but made at least six in both my navel and my
cock.  My whole body was just as rigid as my penis, preventing (but not
really _fearing_) a slip.  She bound it quite tightly and then stood
up.  I could make out the outline of her stretching, and I heard her
crack her bones.

"Yes.  Juliette.  I like that.  You see, I've read it, too."  She
paused.  "I really have been awfully cruel, haven't, I?  I think it's
your turn for some fun now.  Susan, would you come here, please?"

Susan was adept at following the sound of a voice, and she crawled up
before Cindy.  Cindy removed her gag, then her blindfold, and I heard
her gasp of surprise at beholding my condition.

"Please use your tongue to cause Mr. Asshole, sir, to ejaculate.  Do it
quickly."

I was too grateful to wonder if my orgasm would rip the threads from
me.  As Susan began to work on me, her tongue gliding over the flesh
and rasping over the threads, Cindy replaced the gag and pumped it up,
again too full.  She went behind me and started to rotate the shaft
buried within my bowels.  My whole body began to shudder, and my head
to toss.  Cindy whispered from behind me,  "The desire to destroy and
degrade others is the desire to destroy oneself.  You have read too
long in the books of de Sade and too little of common respect and
ethics.  Villainy is a delight only to the self-hating.  You made me
hate myself, but now, with one act of vengeance, I will recover my
self-love and restore the world.  Now think nothing.  Now come,
asshole.  Come now, strained and purple and screaming.  Come.  Come.
Come."

Susan's tongue, my own plastic phallus, the soft words and the
asphyxiation, all converged at a point of glittering light within my
brain and it exploded into fire.  The white juice of life and death
pumped from me, spraying Susan's face and hair, lasting for minutes it
seemed.  Before it subsided, I felt the metal barrel pressed at the
back of my head, and I thought, "yes, do it, you're right, this is what
I've always wanted", and just as my cock began to tear away from my
naked belly, she gave it to me, and I was dead.

--