Chapter Ten

“Put your hands on your head,” he commanded. Cheryl complied readily. Staring up at him, she wondered what was going to happen next. Was he going to suck on her breasts again, tickle her cunt, make her come? He sat on the bed next to her. She could see that he had her reddest and darkest blush in his hands. He drew out the brush and began to apply it to her left nipple. He held the breast firmly in his left hand as he stroked on the blush with the other. She had never put make up on her breasts. She was uncomfortable enough with the darkness of their hue, au natural. Having finished with the left, he then adorned her right nipple similarly. Her teats stood out dark and red, a strange contrast to her milky white breasts.

Turk pushed Cheryl onto her back and ordered her to lift her legs up and pull her knees to her chest. Cheryl did what she was told and felt, rather than saw, the application of a bright red lipstick to her labial lips. In order to make them easier to adorn, Turk grabbed the woman’s cunt with his left hand and gently squeezed the lips closed. Cheryl could feel the pressure on her pussy and the heel of Turk’s hand resting on the hood to her clitoris. The pressure on her clit brought back her earlier humiliation. She closed her eyes and tried to prevent her bodily response.

It was to no avail and when Turk finished stroking her cunt lips with the lipstick, he noticed the tell tale gleam emanating from between them. “Good,” he thought, “this will be a really good show.” He knew also that the more Cheryl felt dominated and helpless, the easier she would be to handle. This was a good opportunity to see how well he could control her.

Keeping one hand on her cunt, he dropped the lipstick on the bed. He then turned and used his elbows to spread Cheryl’s legs wider. Cheryl felt the brush of the Turk’s hair on her thighs as he bent over to place his lips on her sex. She knew what was coming and she felt a wave of revulsion go through her. “Please don’t” she whimpered. She was too afraid to let go of her legs. She felt the man’s lips on her labia and his hot breath. She whimpered again, “Oh, God, please don’t do this.”

Turk stopped suddenly. He reached his hand across Cheryl’s body and grabbed her hair in one hand. Pulling her up he lashed out sharply, once, twice, across her face with the other. Cheryl was surprised with the swiftness of the man’s actions and the sting of the blows shocked her. While the pain was still resonating across her face, Turk pulled her face to within an inch of his own and snarled, “Shut the fuck up.”

Cheryl nodded in desperation. She wanted no more pain, no more blows. Turk yanked her by the hair from the bed and dragged her back into the living room. Cheryl could not suppress the pain from her head as she felt her roots stretched almost to the point of breaking. He dragged her over to a chair by the dining table and pushed her into it. Cheryl trembled in terror. Turk reached back into his pocket and produced the gag she had worn earlier that evening. He rammed it into her mouth, securing the strap behind her head. “Sit,” he commanded.

Cheryl had no thought other than to do what this man demanded. She had felt his strength before, but not this ferocity. She prayed in her mind that he was not going to hurt her, pleaded to whatever god would listen.

Turk fished a roll of duct tape from his bag and returned to the sitting girl. The chair was a straight-backed dining chair with narrow arms on each side. Cheryl had gotten the set at a garage sale the last time she was home. Little did she know then what use one of them would be put to.

The Turk grabbed Cheryl’s right leg and drew it to her chest. He then took her right arm and pulled it in under her leg, securing it to the arm of the chair with the tape. He repeated the process with the left leg and arm.

Cheryl now sat spread eagled on the chair, her legs splayed wide apart, her arms preventing their closure. Her cunt was spread wide and her moisture was well evident. Cheryl cursed herself for her lack of control and for her lapse in judgment. He was going to do it to her anyway, not on the bed, but here, in her own living room, bound like an obscene fuck toy. Her contorted position gave him a clear view of her adorned nether lips. Her cunt lips were bright red, invitingly red. “Only the meanest and cheapest whore would wear something like that,” she thought and sobbed.

Taking a moment to contemplate Cheryl’s wanton display, Turk caught himself. He shouldn’t have slapped her, risking injury. Her face was slightly puffy where his hand had struck. Her tears were ruining her mascara. He needed and wanted to finish what he started.

Kneeling between Cheryl’s legs, he again seized her nether lips with his mouth. He pushed aside the labial lips so as not to disturb the lipstick he had placed there and took a long, lingering lick in the exterior of Cheryl’s pussy, relishing the aroma of her unwilling arousal. He took his time, alternating between sucking and licking at her now exposed and engorged clitoris and drinking from the well of her vulva. When he felt her close to climax, he relented, pausing to look into her face, examine the pleading eyes, the distorted features. When she had gotten back her breath, he started anew, slowly and expertly arousing her lustful passions. Finally, his face awash with her juices, he let her come, reveling in her contortions as she moved her body up and down on the chair in pleasure and humiliation.

He left her there for about fifteen minutes as he washed his face and regained his composure. His passion was not spent and he mulled over perhaps having her suck him off. “Well, we’ll see,” he thought as he pulled at his crotch. “Maybe I can work it in.”

After taking a few more snap shots, this pose was really too good to miss, Turk proceeded to release his captive. Ripping off the duct tape, Turk commanded the now dour woman to return to the bathroom and fix her makeup. She nodded forlornly. He had left the gag in, and Cheryl was horrified to see her distended jaws and forced grimace in the mirror. She imagined what the pictures of her nude display would be like.

“What had she come to?” she thought. Twice now this man had forced her to orgasm against her will, twice she had exploded in intense, mind wrenching orgasms. And he had pictures, pictures of her debasement, to be spread around who knows where. Even if he kept them as his personal mementos, it was appallingly embarrassing. Maybe if she begged, he would give them back.

Standing at the bathroom mirror, she composed herself. She was not to blame, she thought; he had forced her. She couldn’t help it. And she knew that if she did not dry her eyes and reapply the mascara as she had been ordered, she would experience more suffering at his hands.

Time was now getting short and Turk didn’t want to fuck around any more. Ordering her to stand still, he reached into his pocket and extracted the two pairs of faux ruby earrings he had found earlier. Cheryl’s ears were pierced and she was still wearing the pair of rhinestone studs she had worn that day to the office. But these were not for her ears. They were the only two pairs of earrings that were not designed for pierced ears, and they had little clamps with which they could be affixed to ear lobes. They were both red, simulated rubies, clearly not Cheryl’s style, but probably from the same source as the brooch he had pocketed earlier.

He told Cheryl to put her hands on her head. She complied readily. Turk grabbed a breast with one hand and worried the nipple with the other until it stood straight and tall at attention. He affixed one earring there. Cheryl winced as the pressure of the clasp pinched her nipple. She knew better than to struggle. After the other earring had been affixed, he ordered her back onto the bed and to assume the position she had adopted before, when he had applied the lipstick to her cunt lips. Fearing the Turk’s displeasure, she complied, leaning back, clutching her knees to her chest, her legs spread wide.