Franny was pressed against a stone wall. Her hands were bound to shackles in the wall at her feet and wrists. There she remained immobile while others moved around the room behind her. A blindfold prevented her from seeing any of it. What she heard with her ears were moans, the snapping of leather, and an occasional shriek.
Were her shrieks so shrill? she wondered while she still had time to think.
When she felt hands again, it was to unfasten her and strip her of the dress, though she was back on the wall seconds later, with a new sensation of cold stone shocking her overheated system - as if the chill was drawing her life away.
Propelled down corridors in her mind, in the secluded blindness of sensation, she was moved from place to place, from one form of bondage to another, from one empty place to another. Such release such divine oblivion, such letting go into nothingness. Cunt, ass and mouth probed, hair pulled, face slapped, tits bitten by gnawing teeth, her body burst from each sensation though there was no fixed place for any orgasm to begin, and there was an anxious stew in her belly.
She might have gone on for hours, or just minutes, it didn't matter, and she certainly couldn't tell. Her dominant master brought her body wave after wave of rising stimulation, a roaring heat so powerful, she felt all controls slipping away.
At the last, she was laid out on a bed, her feet attached to opposite ends of a spreader bar, her arms stretched out above her, in the tenth form of bondage, if she'd been counting. She heard John Buck's whispers at her ear, the dirty things he said to her arouse the very "bad girl" inside her. Guided by his words, she found herself moving to her body's edges, a climax about to take all the bound, pent-up energy, and let it burn away to nothing. His leather gloved hand prodded her insides. She could feel him over her, his breath, his now familiar breath, breathing down with all its ferocity.
Then, the blindfold suddenly ripped away, she heard the command, "Open your eyes!" from an unexpected voice.
Fluttering to adjust to sight again, there were twin visages before her startled eyes: John Buck, leaning over her angrily, his hand intruding in her sore cunt, pounding her needlessly, for the end was ripe to explode . . . and Jack too, standing back with cool impassive eyes looming the larger man in this contest of power.
She climaxed. As astonished as she was to see them both, they couldn't take that from her. She shivered against John's hand, even as his eyes fixed her stare, and Jack's behind him were drawing her away the instant the last jolt died and disappeared.