Tortured to orgasm
“Ah yes, well,” Dodds replied, “I am not in the habit of asking
permission of my slaves for anything. And you know I couldn’t have had
nearly as much fun if I’d given you fair warning. Besides, I called
last time, remember?”
“Sure, you called to order me over to England! By the time I got back,
Flora was nearly out of her head wondering whether I was coming home.
Say, what have you done with the others? You know I’m going to have a
hell of a time handling Jason after this stunt of yours.”
“Now don’t worry, love, I’ve thought of everything. First of all, they
have their own problems to think about right now, I wouldn’t worry
about them. And secondly…. secondly, WHO ARE YOU TO QUESTION ME,
SLAVE?!” He grinned slightly as she cowered at his feet. “Get into the
shower, you smell like a locker-room!”
She scooted, smiling very slightly to herself. Truth to tell, she was
a bit whiff, having sweated out untold hours tightly bound and laced
down, and rubber body suits were not known for their breathability.
She was grateful for the chance to get clean. She spent almost a half
hour under the steaming water, luxuriating in the needle spray and
wishing she had a shower massager, that she might relieve the sexual
tension she had built up over the last few hours. She seriously
considered masturbating only for a moment though, for she knew Dodds
could walk in at any moment, and he would be furious if he caught her.
He preferred his slaves to get their stimulation from whatever
“torture” he dreamed up… to rely upon him for release.