Trained to Obey 2 Page 4

  Pulling free he threw her head back with disdain as though she were a discardable toy that had served its use and become tedious. Lifting himself from her arms, the increase in weight as he arose made Maria cry out from the added stress.

  “Oh, I’m going to have so much fun with you, freak,” he uttered, stroking her chin as he moved from the bed. “There are so many agonies I have in store, so many tortures and demeaning acts that will leave you a whimpering wreck. Every moment I spend with you, you’ll be wishing you had been sent to a Sanctuary Camp. But we’ll look after you and keep you safe from them, and so you’ll be ours forever,” he intoned gravely.

  Bending down he ferreted amidst his clothes, searching amongst the shed articles until he moved back onto the bed, kneeling between her splayed legs and setting a small pile of wooden clothespins beside him.

  ‘Can’t have you leaking lubricant everywhere can we?’ he grinned, using this absurd reasoning as a further excuse to apply torment.

  Maria sobbed for him to desist but her pleas only seemed to satisfy his sense of malice and cruelty. The pegs were used to gather up the lips of her loins and clamp them shut, a steady line being set down her pussy the infernal crushing holds making her throb with lucid waves of mayhem.

  “Hmmm, I appear to have a couple left over. Can’t let them go to waste though,” he grinned, presenting a superfluous peg in each hand.

  Maria tried to shuffle away from him, to avoid his attack as the pegs hovered over her breasts, her nipples free and full of heat from the chest bondage. If he added the pegs they would be an unbearable companion. But bound as she was there was nothing she could do, and after diligently following her shivering body he finally snapped them shut onto her teats. Maria stiffened to attention and moaned aloud onto her gag, the heinous influence of the wooden fangs making her body quake.

  “There, that’s much better,” he nodded approvingly as she wiggled her chest, trying to throw them off but only causing them to increase their effects as their weight flapped to and fro, hauling at the crushed nuggets of femininity.

  After slipping free of her enticing proximity he stepped out of the room on a merry and carefree stride, leaving her alone as he retired to bathe and remove the sweat of his exertions.

  Chapter Five

  With a pounding sprint Kirsten accelerated towards the edge of the truck and launched into the night with a mighty spring. Sailing through the air the wind tore about her distanced skin, denying her its cool caress as she hurtled across the sky. The road flashed past beneath her and she landed nimbly upon the opposite rooftops.

  Crouching in the dull yellow glow of the streetlights she looked across the city scene. The pavements bore occasional groups of pedestrians and the roads swam with fleeting shoals of light traffic.

  It was glorious to be out. To be able to stretch and leap and run amongst the city like a ghost, her form hidden from view by her second skin, the same skin that denied the icy talons of the midnight hour a chance at purchase on her hidden physique.

  As a shimmering ripple across the fabric of reality she lifted up and jogged across the tiles in light-footed bounds, following a direction on nothing more than a whim.

  The wild colors of a mutant aura brought her to an instant halt. Peering across the night she could see someone covertly peering from the second floor window of a house. The woman bore the violent palette of colors that marked her nature, and thus she was immediately revealed by these shades. But what was this fellow mutant female studying?

  With her quarry in sight Kirsten galloped forward and leapt from the last building, reaching out and snagging the upper reaches of a lamppost. Hooking a leg around the cold metal she swirled gently around the pole and spiraled gracefully down to the pavement.

  Looking about her, the few people abroad at this hour saw nothing of Kirsten’s spectral form. With a sinister smirk she turned and sprinted around for the house, keeping to the shadows to help hide from prying eyes.

  Leaping across the garden fence she charged the front door and jumped up to throw a brutal kick into the lock. The metal fractured and separated from the timbers, casting the door back to jar violently against its hinges. Jumping inside she briefly regarded a husband and wife curled upon the couch before the television.

  They looked up with a start and the woman readied to scream, only to find that there was no clear trespasser to fund her desperate wail.

  The husband shoved her aside and sprang to his feet, looking at the hints of Kirsten’s distorted frame with a churning blend of fear, anger and wonderment.

  A savage upward kick snapped to his brow and caused him to arch backward until his head connected sharply with the carpet, the violence of the connection concussing him.

  With genuine cause the woman opened her mouth to scream and received a slashing backhanded punch that cast her through the air and slammed her against the wall. Striking the surface with a clap, she remained still for a moment and then slid slowly down, twin lines of crimson running from her nostrils and marking the white wall with streaks of red.

  Neither of them were the psyche she had detected, making them either allies or sympathizers to the mutant they were protecting. Perhaps it was their offspring or a relative. Were they aware of the mutation? What was the mutant’s power and would it be a danger to her? She did not really care, she was eager to get into a real fight now that her strength was back.

  Wheeling, she took the stairs six at a time and was suddenly smashed by an invisible fist of force. Caught in mid air, her momentum was countered and she was hurled against the wall with such impetus that the plaster shattered and the bricks beneath were riddled with weaving cracks.

  The ethereal hand fell away and Kirsten dropped from the crater like a stone, collapsing onto the stairs and then rolling clumsily down them to drop harshly at the foot, her chameleonic shroud slipping away as her concentration was diverted.

  Gasping for breath she remained frozen for a moment, feigning coma as her winded and battered body recovered some shred of mobility.

  Light footfalls sounded upon the stairs, making the wood creak almost imperceptibly as the mutant warily descended. Telekinetic power made this a lethal enemy with a grasp that could stretch as far as her mind could carry it. Also its influence was unbound by the constraints of muscle and flesh, making it infinitely stronger than her.

  Kirsten knew she would have to act swiftly to acquire victory and rallying her thoughts she waited for her opponent to approach a little closer before turning them back to the chameleonic powers of her second skin.

  The hide gave a shudder as it answered her restored attention and twisting perception it swiftly restored her to a ghostly visage. Throwing herself back to her feet with a nimble spring Kirsten skipped into the air and span, giving her virulent circle kick added momentum.

  The woman’s face melted into a startled expression of shock and was suddenly flung aside as Kirsten’s heel connected with her temple. A bright crunch echoed and the woman was slammed to the wall with brutal force. Granting no time for revival Kirsten skipped up the stairs and onto the same step as the woman before throwing an elbow far from the target and then hurling it back in a sanguinary arc. With a hiss of exertion she buried the armored joint into the exposed neck. The bone discs snapped loudly, bringing a drastic throe from the woman before her legs sagged and she rolled down the steps and settled in a lifeless tangled heap of limbs.

  Kirsten could clearly see that the woman was not of this household because her dress was for wilderness wear, a manner of attire alien to Kirsten. She herself was only acquainted with city life, and even that was a previous and long forgotten existence.

  Intrigued, Kirsten flew up the stairs and ripped a door from its frame in a swift search. At the rear bedroom she found a chair by the window and a set of binoculars perched nearby. Looking out she panned her gaze across the view, wondering what had so fixated the woman’s attention that she would risk capture to study it.

  In the di
rection the mutant had been facing she could only see a line of shops. Dropping her camouflage she watched them through the binoculars, studying through the powered lenses to seek trace of what had fascinated the woman so.

  Through closed curtains she could make out a shadowy form. It appeared normal enough from without, but about the hazy silhouette she could see the crackling halo that was sure to be her target.

  Chapter Six

  With a monstrous holler against the muffling dimensions of the gag Maria answered the flight of a peg on her nipple. Once she had settled down the villain took the other one and pulled at it, rotating it from side to side with a wide jubilant smile. Maria whimpered and twitched as the anguish in her teat arose in bounding steps and then leapt to an unbearable zenith with the removal of the pinching malediction.

  As she bucked and cried out from the awful influx of sensation to the squashed nugget, he unfastened the chest bondage and moved between her legs. Maria yammered dejectedly as she felt his hand brush against the line of pegs between her legs.

  Again he commenced his depraved teasing. Manipulating the pegs with callous motions he finally released one to bring Maria back to a rigid fit of distress and then let her quieten and recover before attending the next. He was clearly intent on drinking up every particle of her harrowing, relishing each removal in absolute full. Finally, the pegs were all extracted from her abused sex leaving her crotch resonating with a distinct and sharp pulse.

  Breathing in shallow, drawn out gasps, Maria felt her limbs being set free and her feet were peeled of the tin foil socks. Unable to move of her own volition her original tyrant grabbed her wrists and dragged her from the bed, dropping her to the ground and then towing her back to the living room, the rough carpet imparting friction burns as she slid along.

  Lifting her weak gaze she gained a sudden boost in energy as she was chagrin to see a noose hanging from the ceiling. Turning and trying to resist his grasp, she kicked her legs out and frantically tried to delay her passage. But his will tolerated no denial of his wishes and forceful tugs stripped her of her holds and had her carried beneath the awaiting loop without any significant delay, indeed her resistance seemed to enthrall him. It was as though he wanted her to fight his will just so he could crush it.

  Setting her on her feet, he slipped the noose over her neck and tightened it to a snug fit that would prevent her writhing free. The temptation to remove it by hand was stolen as her arms were troubled with a long bar that ran across her shoulders and held the fainéant appendages to it from wrist to wrist. Unwilling to irk him with resistance she simply quivered in fright as he used latex straps to wind along her arms and cruciform them. The elastic reigns squeezed to her skin, offering up a teasing amount of leeway that she thought she might exploit to gain escape, but the rubber hauled back before any space was gained, fleetingly promising freedom only to deny it with a callous increase in its potency.

  With a licentious thirst he grabbed some flimsy garments and forced them onto her. A set of fine denier seamed stockings, a brief thong and a set of ankle boots. Zipping up the front of the footwear she was left tottering on absurdly high heels, her balance being greatly affected and offset.

  Slapping his hands to her thighs he parted the welt-tainted flesh and slotted a short pole between them. The cuffs at either end closed to grip just above the knee and enforce the spreading of her legs.

  Drawing up a chair in front of her, he lounged upon it and took up the candle once more. Savoring her look of despair he flicked a lighter into life and watched the sparks vanish upon the flame before kissing the wick.

  Rising from his seat he paced around her like some malignant predator assessing his prey, deciding where to strike first.

  The flame rose and traveled under her armpit, the lucid pang that rocketed through the flesh making her wail into the ball gag, lines of saliva escaping as she danced upon her bonds. The noose at her neck suddenly snapped taut and closed as she fought against it, the strangling hold demanding that she offer a less energetic response to the kiss of the candle.

  The bright flame lapped at the other armpit, the hairs shriveling with a spitting crackle as the smell of their scorching filled her nostrils and she howled across the intruding ball, clenching her teeth to the solid orb and jerking as she fought the mindless pull of the straps.

  The burning tip was held before her eyes, filling her water-filled gaze and concealing the bearer behind an effulgent aura. She gurgled her words of imploring as he slowly began to tilt the rod, the small pool of molten wax creeping towards the edge before falling as a scorching drizzle to spatter across her breasts. The fleeting moment of affliction passed and suddenly her skin was terrorized by fangs of heat, the wax radiating its fires through the tissues and making Maria squeal and cavort within her restraints.

  The impassioned evasion was preventing him from accessing his targets with the precision he desired so a ferocious pinch locked to a nipple, keeping a firm hold to anchor her with this painful grip.

  He held in one place she could nothing as he slowly drooled the ardent discharge across her cleavage and onto the shivering hillocks of her young breasts, making her sing aloud with torment.

  With her breasts covered in frozen globules that ran down her torso and hung from the underside in frozen icicles, he ran the bare flame beneath the punished flesh, causing her to dance back. The noose immediately chastened her for her movement with a strangling grip that took long moments to work loose again.

  Setting aside the implement he took up the whip again, swinging its slender strands and turning on the stereo. As music filled the room to accompany and give rhythm and emotion to his work, he cast back his weapon and with a full swing brought it onto her back.

  Applying his full fury to this task he drilled into the flesh with vivid pangs of distress, the whistling crack of the weapon’s bite lost behind the concealing folds of music, as was Maria’s howling answer to its touch.

  The swipes rode down and were carried upon an underarm hack that arose between her legs with the softest sigh of streaking leather straps. The slender tentacles rose between her parted thighs, clapping agonizingly to the meager defense of the thong and licking her raw belly, the skin rendered even more susceptible to the ravages of the whip from the previous application of the pernicious cane. The attack upon her loins had her feet skipping to and fro as she tried to close her legs and shield the targeted areas, the pain of the exclusive fleeting kisses sending her mad with grief as her mind and lungs burned from tempered strangulation and terrible frustration.

  Broad sweeps drew them around in wide circles to gouge at her breasts and flanks. The stern impact of knotted strands upon the frozen wax cracked the solidified layers and let a rain of opaque flakes fall from her spasming torso, her breasts bouncing and swaying as her dance continued to the tune of the merciless weapon.

  How could she hope to survive this grotesque existence? What had she ever done to deserve this? She was a young girl, she should be at school with nothing more troubling on her mind than fashion trends and pop bands. Was there no justice in the world? Was no one going to help her?

  Chapter Seven

  “Is the mutant present, slave?” asked her owner.

  “Yes, Mistress, I am sure of it,” Kirsten muttered in bland reply.

  “Is she alone?”

  “Negative, a normal human is holding her captive,” she answered, peering at the other image that was presenting itself as a vague shadow puppet against the curtains.

  “Enter and terminate all who have seen her and take the subject alive, slave,” ordered the Mistress with gravity, the power in her voice making Kirsten release a sighing moan of pleasure at being commanded so forcefully into action.

  Without a second thought she opened the window, jumped down into the garden and was charging across the back street. Vaulting the fence in a single skip she leapt upward and used the spine of a ramshackle shed as a springboard. The metal sheeting flexed beneath her weight a
s she fired herself forward, arcing though the air like a missile aimed directly at the window, her claws spread forward to lead the assault.

  The glass panes shattered at her touch, exploding inward as a shower of dancing crystal fragments, the translucent sheet of the window falling away as the curtain was ripped aside to reveal a greater clarity.

  The mutant was tied and held upright by a loop of rope at her throat, her body shuddering as she was cruelly whipped by the man standing behind her, the intricate plexus of incarnadine stripes that coated her body confessing that this had been more than an occasional diversion.

  The quiet of the night gave way to the thundering blare of music, the wall of sound hitting Kirsten’s sensitive ears like a fist as the clangor of splintered glass died away.

  The man stared at the spot she occupied for a moment, trying to see what had shattered his window. With no culprit visible, his eyes darted to the floor for sign of the object that had been hurled through to breech his domain.

  His searching gaze launched upward with a brittle crack, Kirsten’s uppercut punch sweeping from her thighs to reach high into the air. The savage strike jerked him off the ground for a moment before he dropped back, his legs crumbling beneath him because they were no longer able to grant support after the battery he had just sustained.

  Before letting him fall she kicked out at waist height, her sole sinking into soft belly, bending him acutely at the middle and throwing him across the room and into a set of shelves. The wooden planks shattered under his connection, sending ornaments and books flying as the stack collapsed and buried his body under a pile of debris.

  Briefly regarding him, Kirsten began to close in, letting her chameleonic shell falter and slip away, her gaze detecting breath from the semi-covered form.