My Crush’s ex-Slave’s Wine Cellar Part 1

Sometimes, having a relationship with a businessman comes together with the ‘without you for a week’ package. I kind of expect it actually. He has many businesses oversea and sometimes being there in person gets more things done than a meager web-conferencing with the local managers. I could go but that would mean skipping classes which I’m not so keen on doing. I’ve been getting lower grades ever since meeting him and I’m not planning to exacerbate the situation any further than it already is. So, that leaves me with quite a lot of free time during when he’s away. But that sadistic fuck isn’t going to let loose on the two kinky sex days apparently. In fact, before he boards the plane, his knowing grin is as clear as a fucking crystal that he has something special for me while he’s away. And that makes me cringe.

Just by knowing that he has something in mind makes my blood boil in anticipation. I mean, he’s a sadistic bastard after all. There’s no limit to how creative he can be when it comes to being kinky. And worst of all, I love it. I love everything he is doing to me. I can’t believe I’m actually enjoying more than I should but what the hell right? You only get to live once.

With that in mind, I am not surprised when I see a sedan with tinted windows stops right in front of me as soon as I walk out of the university courtyard. A man dressed in a neatly pressed suit leaps out of the sedan to usher me in, even opening the door like I’m some princess on an ambassadorial mission. People look at me, some in amazement while some in jealousy. Nevertheless, I walk in without hesitation. It’s about damn time I get some kinky action. Yes, I’m addicted to kinky sex and yes, these past few days without him has me plunged into some sort of withdrawal syndrome. Kinky sex withdrawal syndrome.

It is a pleasant ride. How could it not? I’m being wined the best wine the world has to offer while dwelling with the anticipation of not knowing where he wants me to go. The guy who ushered me in, the one that is riding shotgun, even offers me a take-away-meal and boy is the box extravagantly elaborated. I’m pretty sure the meal could very well cost more than my weekly rental should I have opted to stay at the university’s hostel.

I open the box and my nose is instantly assaulted by the aroma’s of expensive spices. A perfectly grilled salmon with dressing at it’s sides meets my eyes and I swear I see glitters. There’s even some truffles on top of the salmon. Alright, this meal definitely costs more than my weekly rental.

I dine in the car as it speeds through the freeway. When I’m finished with the meal, I rinse my mouth with the wine, not something that I usually do, since I don’t have any water with me. And I’m surprise to find no water bottle inside the car’s tiny refrigerator. Usually, Richard would have everything prepared, and the idea of him missing out on the water bottle seems kind of preposterous. I begin to wonder if this is his intention. Restricting my choice of beverage to only alcohol. He wants me drunk. I can’t think of any other reason besides that. Like a little rebel, I decide not to drink anymore. I’ll just have to wait til the end. And it doesn’t take long for me to doze off during the journey.


I feel a strange sensation between my legs. It feels warm and tingling. I try to ignore the weird sensation and hoping I will doze off once again. I don’t. The sensation only grow and then I realize that it isn’t just warm, it’s moving. Holy fuck. Something is moving on my pussy. My eyes spring open. My vision briefly blurred by the prior unconsciousness but it soon clears into a crisp image of grey. Ceiling is my first guess. But it doesn’t take me long to figure that it is the floor instead of the ceiling. Gravity is a very eloquent clue when it comes differentiating between up and down. And I’m at least 3 feet up.

I try to call out to someone, anyone, but a weak mumble is all I can manage especially when I have a ball gag over my mouth. I tilt my head down to as far as my neck allows and see my bare breasts hanging freely. Between them I saw a figure, a woman, kneeling behind me, her knees are parted quite far apart. I know she’s a woman because her pussy is totally exposed.

Her hands aren’t in my view and that explains why my pussy feels like something is spreading it open. I moan softly when the warm moving thing, which can only be her tongue, pries between my soft yielding lips and sinks into me before wiggling about. My legs are tied to a pair of horizontal beams parallel to my body, at least 3 feet apart of each other, ridding me of any chance in providing cover for my sex. My hands are tied behind my back and are pulled upwards, lifting my body so that it’s aligned with the horizontal beams.

“It works like a charm.” The woman purrs sultrily. “I used to be woken up having my pussy licked.” she add.

She must be one of Richard’s ‘friends’. Oh, that sick bastard did it again. I’m definitely surprised to find myself in this position. But why didn’t I feel the movement. To have me tied like that, that’s a lot of movement and I’m sure I would have felt something and wake up. I didn’t. And I know exactly why. He has me drugged. That asshole actually has me drugged. The wine. That must be it. I’m so going to screw him when I’m out. I never like to be drugged and that’s in the off limits list.

A sharp pain draws me back to attention. I yelp through the gag. Then comes the second strike, this time harder. It is so hard that the sound of the smack echoes through the empty room. My heart races, not in excitement, but in fear. It feels different. The smacks are hard and merciless. When Richard or his friends spank me, the pain is part of the excitement. This woman spanks differently. It hurts. It’s almost as if she’s trying to hurt me more than trying to get me excited.

After a dozen or so smacks on my bottom, she stops. “Oh, does it hurt, slut?” her tone is filled with hatred. Who the hell is she?

“Maybe this will help?” she says mockingly. She grabs my bare breast and clamps a clip around my nipple. It hurts more than anything I’ve tried on and I squeal at the torment. She grabs my other breast and clamps another clip on my other nipple. With each hand holding each clip, she pulls them hard, not hard enough to dislodge them, but hard enough to have me wailed in pain.

“I’ve always thought he wouldn’t leave me.”

“Please. Let me go.” I plead incoherently through the gag.

“I will. But not yet. Not until I prove to him that I’m a better slave.”

She picks up a pair of chains secured to the ground, with the hook at each end, she attaches the chains to each of the clip. Then she moved away from my sight. A moment passed and I feel a tug on my bound wrists. My body arcs as the rope is pulled. The once loose chains attached to the clip are pulled taunt, unleashing an excruciating agony onto my nipples. I yelp as loud as I could and she stops pulling.

“Now that if you move too much, your nipples are going to hurt. So, be a good girl, okay? Now, where was I? Right.”

An intense pain rips through by pussy. My body practically jerks at the assault and the clips are don’t hesitate to punish my nipples.

“See, it hurts more if you move.” she giggles. She fucking giggles like this is some sort of entertainment to her. If Richard is a sadist, she’s the devil’s evil daughter. “Now, where do you prefer I hit?”

“Thigh?” And smack, my left thigh is spanked.

“Butt?” and my right cheek is spanked.

“Or…” she rubs the paddle onto my bare pussy…”pussy?”

I yelp once again. The pain is excruciating. I’ve never been hit this hard on my pussy. Tears begin to flow down my cheek. The pain is too much. If this really is Richard’s plan, I’m going to leave him. It’s too much for me to bare. I bite down onto the gag, hoping that the clench of my teeth could help me reduce the stress I’m currently experiencing, even by a little.

Please…let this be over soon.


About robsam1991

Even though my stories depicts rapes and violence on women(mostly), i never once condone the action. Not even the slightest. In fact, i despise men who rape women. I never agreed on that women who wear provocative clothing were to be blame on for the rape; though they should take precautions when necessary to avoid risk. As a man, i think it's our responsibility to control ourselves and never let our urge out on innocent people. If you feel like raping someone, then treat a girl nicely so that she would opt for a role play where you can play out a 'rape' on her satisfyingly. Please use safe word.
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