Phantom

Zatanna.

I can’t help it, I can’t keep my mind off her. A year - a whole year we’ve been together in this show, on this stage, doing these performances six days a week and she can’t walk into the room but my eyes lock on her and I can’t let go. Those long legs in those black fishnets, the way her high heeled slippers bring us eye to eye, those black panty pants, like a dancer’s, that cling to her pubes and ass like I’ve been dying to all year. The blouse under the white vest pretends to hide those breasts but cups them like I want to and all under that black tuxedo tails, the backs of which pet her thighs like I need to!

When she walks with that click-click across the stage I’m so hungry for her. Not my usual hunger, I actually feel – something – I haven’t felt for or about or with a woman in years. I want her to be different. I actually want her to be special!

She must feel my eyes pet her legs, the way they go from one mesh diamond to the next, ever up and up and up and UP until I imagine myself climbing into those sprayed on shiny black pants. I’m sure she doesn’t wear panties. Thinking of those diamonds, tracing them up and up and in, knowing her sweet, delicious moist pussy is so available.... I wouldn’t even have to take them off, my fingers could just go into the diamond - my cock can just slip through that perfectly positioned space and she’ll clamp me tight, moaning and gasping as I push deeper and deeper, spread her wet hot tightness until I shove all the way in, make her scream as she clings to me, make her clench me tight and her scorching cream covers me....

She smiles at me as she passes, having come in through the Performers’ Entrance, heading to the stage and her dressing room on stage left, just within the end of the wing, with that click-click of her high heels. She’s never seen my face. I keep my blue mask on from when I’m blocks away until long after I’m gone, just like Claude Rains, part of my mystique. No one here ever sees my face, only my blue mask that comes down to and around my mouth, dips down either side to cover my cheeks. No one ever sees me - but she smiles at me. Does she wonder what I look like? Does she think about me, the mysterious unseen Phantom. Does she fantasize about me? Do we fuck in her dreams, me just in my mask, her just in those diamond mesh nylons as she wraps her long silky legs about my hips, yelps every time I thrust hard through her diamond and her face contorts in delicious pleasure/pain as I ram harder and deeper and she clenches my cock as I ram deeper, covering it with her scalding cream as I force into her tightness over and over, she screaming louder and louder with every slam as I spread her wider and grind into her clit with every slam....

It’s nearly midnight. Everybody’s gone. Stagehands, lighting, curtain crew, performers; jugglers, clowns, dancers, - I’m the only escape artist - everyone’s gone. She’s in her dressing room right beyond stage and I’m trying to put my stuff away into my trunk but my sweaty hands are shaking. I should concentrate but I can’t! Every night I stay late, last out, but it never works. She leaves every time still in her costume and takes my heart - my cock - with her; but there’s always someone here. Always some damned late slowpoke.

But this time - this time we’re alone! Last ones here, Zatanna and I, alone. Completely alone! This huge theater and we’re completely alone. First time in a year! She’s in her dressing room and we’re alone.

She comes out of her room, turns the light off and, for an instant silhouetted in the light then darkness in the frame of the door she’s perfect. Everything in place from top hat and white bow tie to those long, long legs wrapped in diamond mesh down to her high heels. She walks across the stage toward the Performers’ Entrance - click click - and smiles at me as she passes and I can’t let –

“Zatanna!” She almost jumps but I was in a panic. I have to tone it down.

She stops, turns to me. “Yes?” she asks with those full ruby lips.

“I - um - I was - are you in a hurry?”

She shrugs slightly and I can’t rip my eyes from the way her full breasts move under the white vest and unbuttoned black tails top. “Not particularly, why?’

Why? Why? Why why why why why? “Because. Because I’m, yes, I’m studying languages. Yes, that’s it. I’m studying languages, and I heard you speak a couple.”

“A few.” That smile, it tears my heart in half. Those ruby lips I’ve been aching to kiss, those perfect gleaming teeth, those cute dimples–

“Because, because I’ve been studying. I’ve been studying words. Yes, foreign words, that’s what I’ve been studying. Right. I know the words, but some I can’t, you know, pronounce.” There’s a piano a few feet away and some stagehand left a pen and pad with notes on it. I hurry over, snatch it up before she can decide to leave - my hands shake so hard I can barely write. “I know the words, but some I can’t, you know, pronounce.” Damn, I can’t talk, think, spell backwards and write at the same time, now I can barely read the block letters but I hold the pad out to her. It stops vibrating when she takes it out of my hand.

She looks at it, then at me with those sapphire eyes and then at the paper again. “Oh, that’s easy. Esuolb hsinav.”

Her white blouse is gone as though she’d never put it on, just that low buttoned white vest and open tails jacket, white bow tie wrapped about her throat and part of her bra showing, cupping her breasts over the top vest button.

She drops the pad and her hands flash to her chest, but in pushing the white vest she only pushes her breasts up, makes her mounds more obvious. “You naughty, naughty man!”

But there’s no anger in her tone and she can’t quite keep her lips from pulling into dimples. She doesn’t try to blast me, so I reach for her. She tries to hide it but she’s smiling. Hands on her sides, I pull her close and she doesn’t fight me as I put my arms around her and come down to her warm lips.

Her body against mine makes mine explode! She molds so well to my body she must feel my heart pounding but as we kiss her hands go around me. My mask is in the way, when we move her cheeks brush it but when I feel her reach for it I let go of her back long enough to hold it in place.

She gives it up and we go back to kissing with more and more heat, then she pulls her head back. “I’ve watched you watching me,” she breathes, her breasts sliding along my chest but my heart’s pounding so hard I can barely hear her. She pushes out of our clutch, holds me at arms length and whispers “I know what you’re thinking.”

I have to crane my eyes up from off her vest and bra covered breasts and my voice is rough. “What am I thinking?”

“You’re thinking of how you can possibly trick me into saying Arb raeppasid.”

Immediately her bra is gone, and with the white vest buttons starting inches low, I can see plenty of her full breasts. They don’t show much through the V, just enough to lock my eyes.

Wide eyed in faux shock, she presses her fingertips to her coy smile. “Ooops.”

I reach for her, hold her more firmly as her hot mouth yields to mine and, one hand pressed to her back to hold her firm breasts against my chest - I’ll take my time and see what disappears next - I reach down and pet her rounded ass as I walk her backward step by step toward the corner, enjoy the way her heating moans vibrate in my mouth.

Without the blouse and bra I feel her mounting heat. The vest isn’t really low, but when we cling to one another her breasts press and rise into view - but I’d have to pull back and I’m too busy kissing. I want her to stay hot every second but I feel those full mounds pressed to my chest. I can’t feel panties under my stroking hand but.... “What’s the spell,” I ask, though I have to pull a quarter inch from her scorching wet lips to do so, “to make your panties disappear?”

She leans further away, she can see my face but I’m trying to split my view between hers and down her vest. Her nipples are hard, they actually poke the buttoned material. “Oh no,” she whispers, “you want to get my panties off, you do it right.”

I’m all in favor of that as I pull her body against mine and again back her up as our hands explore. From the feel of her ass, she might be wearing a thong. G-string? Nothing?

I have to know.

I back her into the corner before she realizes she’s going there and she breaks the kiss when she discovers she’s trapped.

“So this is what you want?” she asks, her smile teasing and seductive together. “Me as your helpless captive?” She puts her hands up, backs of hands to each wall in mock surrender, the movement spreading her open tails jacket further as it reaches away from her body. I reach into her white vest, my fingers caress her heaving right breast and when she feels my fingers stroke across her hard nipple she shudders.

“I love a woman who’s captive and helpless.” I release my touch on her breast and take her raised wrists, draw them up and cross them high over her top hat, trapped pressed into the corner in my left hand and I kiss her again. I slip my right hand between our bodies and again pet her right breast under the vest, give extra attention to her hard nipple. She shudders when every finger crosses over it and it springs back to attention.

“I’ve got plenty of rope,” I whisper onto her lips. “I can tie you good and tight, you’ll be absolutely helpless.”

She shakes her head, slips her lips off mine and I attack her neck, make her groan. “No,” she moans. “I’m not into Bondage. I don’t like that.”

She pulls her wrists out of my grip, but then the feel of her fingernails running up and down the length of my hard cock between us takes away my disappointment.

I don’t need to tie her up, not the way her other hand tugs at my belt. Her fingernails up and down my cock make me rub her right breast more firmly and my left hand joins both hers, except I rub at the thin spot in her high pants. I feel her wet heat as I rub.

“Easyyyyy,” she whispers, her hands leave my crotch, one hand stopping my right hand on her breast, the other halting my left pressed against her hot, wet crotch. “Easy,” she repeats. “I’m very sensitive.”

I know how sensitive women are. I work more at her crotch while we kiss. I use her moaning to let me know just when I’ve found her clitoris and rub it firmly.

She gasps, and though she has my belt open she stops, grabs my wrist and pushes down, turns aside from me.

“Come onnnn. Easy. A woman doesn’t have an ‘on’ switch.”

I prove her wrong when I pull up against her efforts and I again find her clitoris through the silk, I know I found it by her scorching gasp and the way her hands slip off mine.

I trap her body by mine into the corner, keep her captive and capture her gasping mouth and get a firmer grip on her right breast with my right hand. It’s fuller, firmer than I imagined, a size D of firm, delectable woman, hotter than I’d dreamed and it’s hard to get my whole hand to enclose her under her vest.

I keep rubbing at her crotch, kissing her harder; I can tell when I rub her clit from the way she gasps and tenses against me.

She looks up, her top hat almost topples against the walls and off her head; it only stays on because it’s trapped. I attack her neck. She moans at the sensations that undoubtedly set every nerve in her body to thrumming. It’s not easy to kiss her, to nuzzle her past the white band of her bow tie but I manage it. I also pet her pussy a lot more firmly, just like she needs it.

“Easy, I said” she gasp/moans. “It’ll be there!”

But she tries to arch her body, to get away, but I capture her mouth again, hold her breast in a good, firm grip; she’s firm already but I’m strong enough to get a really good grip - she’s not slipping away or changing her mind like other women always do. I close my thumb over her nipple, trap it tightly.

“OW!” She tries to push away, one hand on my wrist trying to pry me down from her pussy, the other pushing my chest but I lean my full weight plus my strength into her. She’s trapped so deep in the corner she can’t move, but I love the feel of her body against mine as she struggles and I press harder.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you like it?”

“No! I like soft!”

“All women like it rough and hard!” I kiss her again, hard, and prove it against her pussy, dig up and rub hard, beat all her downward pushing. I can feel her lips open, give way. They’re too soft and weak for my power.

She tries to close her legs. I get my right foot behind her high slipper and pull her leg forward. Forward or aside, it’s all the same; she won’t close her legs!

She cries into my mouth and gets both hands up, pushes my chest while I rub her pussy harder, force her pants and panties deep into her.

“OWWWWW!” She tries to shove me away, braced against the wall and I grab her breast tighter. She’s not pushing me away, not now! Her full breast’s more than a handful and I dig my fingers in and get my mouth back on her hot one, kiss her hard as I press myself into her high pants. She shoves harder and I clench her breast with all my strength - she’s not pushing me away! I get my left fingers up, force into her right through her crotch, force everything into her.

“AAAIIIEEEEEE!” Her scream echoes through the theater and I twist her breast hard, really give her something to scream about! This time she nearly shatters every window in the building.

She shoves again, I clench her pussy and breast with all my strength, my fingers get into her deep enough I can clutch her pelvic bone behind her mons. She shrieks, shoves me away and screeches because I just about yanked her breast off her chest and probably tore her clit off.

My eyes are locked on her breast almost out of the top of the vest, it’s red but white from my fingers though those marks very quickly turn redder and I can’t look from her heaving chest, so I barely see her fist an instant before it slams into my jaw.

The world snaps aside and when I can see again she’s still cornered, putting her breast in with her left hand, cradling her pussy with her right but–

I know nothing but the rage, the fury. I step a long step into the swing, put every muscle from ankles to arm into it and don’t even feel it on her face but she crashes the six inches back into the corner, and when I can think she’s crumpled down on the floor, propped up, head limp against her chest, top hat rolling back and forth in front of her legs curled under her.

**Chapter Two**

“BITCH!” I spit my fury at her still body slumped crumpled in the corner. “I thought you’d be different. I wanted you to be different! No cunt is different!” I reach down, grab a handful of raven hair and pull her head up. There’s already a darkening bruise on the left side of her jaw, even after the few seconds.

“You’re just like all the others! I wanted you to be different!” I grab her throat under her white band bow tie, pull her forward and, hard as I can, I ram her head back into the corner. “Why couldn’t-” slam again “you be-” hardest slam of all “different?” She slumps down deeper to the floor.

“I’ll teach you a woman’s place!” I reach out, grab her firm breasts tight, tighter, clench with all my might. But no matter how hard I squeeze the full mounds she doesn’t move, even when I let go with a savage twist that’d make any woman screech.

No, she won’t move until I get back but still I hurry to my room, pull the case from under my bed and in less than a minute I’m back and open the case. My first concern is the red ball gag, the one with the holes so she won’t die - yet. I lift her hair and fasten the red leather straps behind her head, under her hair.

I let her lay back against the corner - she’s really beautiful with the red ball gag forcing open her scarlet lips - and the way her white bow tie counters her black hair. I take her right wrist, secure a wide red leather band about it, the three straps latch firmly in back. There’s a D ring back there too. Then I grab my roll of masking tape, the one I usually spread over women’s mouths, and curl her fingers into a fist - ‘hit me, will you, bitch? - and wrap round after round to completely immobilize her hand.

Her left wrist and hand get the same thorough treatment, then I’m ready to go down to her ankles.

First I have to pull her from the corner. I do it the way she deserves, grab her breasts through the vest - at least the tails jacket is out of the way - and lever her about, then flat on her back.

I need more room, but if I drag her the way I want to I’ll probably tear one of them off so I just grab her strapped wrists - she’ll have more strain than this very soon - and drag her along the floor on her tails and tail onto and across to the middle of the stage.

I’d give these jerks a show worth seeing if anyone had had enough brains to stay for the value of his ticket.

I return to the corner and take everything back with me, including her top hat. I straighten her legs and spread them wide open, the way a woman’s supposed to be. The large diamond mesh of her stockings rises up her long sexy legs and disappears into her dancer’s shorts - barely more material than high black bikini bottoms - and I reach up, grab and pinch through her crotch, gather a good amount of soft flesh and, watching her face, give a hard, savage twist and yank, the kind that would make any conscious bitch shatter windows.

Nothing. Not even a flinch.

I leave her polished black high heel slippers on but above the left one I strap a longer red leather, long enough that it takes four straps to lock it in place and the metal D ring is to her side, down by her ankle. I turn and secure her right side just as firmly.

One good thing about the theater, there are plenty of ropes and pulleys hanging from the ceiling, as sweet Felicity found out three months ago.

Felicity. I wonder if she’ll ever get out of ICU.

Doesn’t matter.

I lower two thick ropes at mid-stage, eight feet apart, and thread one of them through the D ring of her right wrist and knot the end several times, make a thick mass that’ll never slip back through. Going back to the other end fastened to the winch from off stage - one of dozens - I pull it and Zatanna’s arm goes up, then she’s pulled up to sit awkwardly, listing to her left.

I have to pull harder and she’s lifted up by her right arm, her left dangling limply to her side. I keep pulling until her slippers leave the floor and she’s dangling from her right wrist, her head slumped forward and to her left, her long black hair curtaining her face. I’ll raise that curtain soon.

I tie a special knot to the end by the pulley, lock off that end so she’ll stay dangling and trail the rope back to where she hangs, toss it past her onto the stage, available but out of the way.

Her breasts are pulled up, the right one straining against the top buttons of her vest. Her black jacket gapes wide, the right side pulled up, the left hanging loose. Her legs are parted and as I cross the stage before her, my hand firmly strokes her pubes. Her crotch is dry for now; it’ll be wet later.

I thread the end of the other rope through her left D ring and knot it as thoroughly, then go to the other end of that rope. As I pull, her hanging arm rises and her body moves left until finally she’s dangling from upraised arms midway between the widely secured ropes.

Next I bring with me another rope pulled from another pulley and dragged along the floor. I kneel down beside her left leg, feed the rope through the D ring and knot it a few times, just as I did the others. Then I bring one from the opposite pulley, stage right and secure it as well.

I pull the rope just enough to afford me a good view up her diamond meshed legs and reach up, give her crotch a couple of good firm strokes - I can feel her soft lips - before I let go of the rope. Her legs come together - for now - and I let her dangle limp.

I stand up in front of her, her wide upraised arms almost pull her breasts from the vest but I’m not ready to undo those buttons. It’s no fun stripping a woman of her last protections if she doesn’t know it.

She’s about a foot and a half off the floor and her head’s slumped forward so I grab her hair, pull her head up and back until she’s looking at me. The bruise on the left side of her jaw is now full ripe; it’ll have many to join it. I bring my hand back and the crack across her cheek sounds like a shot in the huge theater.

She’s dazed, disoriented, scared - I love that look of terror when a woman realizes she’s helpless and mine. She may be brave, but when it comes to their pussies all women cave. As she looks around, her breath huffing through the holes in the ball gag, she starts to appreciate her predicament. She looks up to her masking taped hands. I don’t know if hand gestures mean anything to her spells but the tape takes care of that as well as does the red ball that holds her scarlet lipsticked mouth wide. She looks at me, her eyes are just eight inches over mine.

“Mmumn umirumv oomrimvr irdewhqvr?”

That takes care of any backwards talking spells. I’ve no idea what she mumbled so I’ll do all the talking. “Now you learn how to be a woman.”

“Ffmogx rfxswdu dmmerjui?”

I pick her top hat off the floor and push it onto her head. Now she looks her image - except for white blouse and bra, of course - but it’s an improved image because now she’s dangling from firmly tied ropes and she’s about to be taught a woman’s place in this world.

If she’s a good student, she might live long enough to learn to enjoy it.

I bend down to the box on the stage and pull out a dagger. This isn’t one of those impotent fake stage things, the blade is sharp enough to shave with. It’s shaved plenty of women who didn’t know enough to keep themselves perfectly smooth - and if occasionally it made some cuts before I was ready to put the blade to its true use, well that was okay. Women have a lot of soft sensitive flesh on their bodies, there expressly to be hurt, and they should be used to blood coming from there anyway.

Since they couldn’t be bothered to keep themselves shaved like a woman’s supposed to, any preliminary pain and blood before I was really ready to get started on them was their own fault.

Chapter Three

Zatanna’s eyes go wide when she sees the blade gleaming in the ceiling lights. She’s about to find out how sharp it is.

The bulges of her firm breasts are pulled up to the top of her white vest, squeezed half out of the V before my eyes as she dangles eighteen inches above the stage, her arms reaching 60 degrees wide toward the high roof. I very slowly bring the blade point closer and closer to her right breast top and her breath huffs faster and faster through the holes in the scarlet ball gag that comes so close to matching her full, decorated lips.

“Rmmength! Nmph! Numph! NUMPH!” I trail the pinpoint sharpness along her left breast, not cutting skin yet but drawing a red line of quickly darkening pain. “AAIIIIIIII!” she cries, trying to pull herself up out of my reach. Never. The ropes are too far apart, she’ll only be able to get a couple of inches. She tries to back away from the blade. She’s not backing anywhere.

“Argghh! Ah! Aaarrrrhhhggggg!”

I keep the line going from the bulge of her left breast and across her right. Head thrown back, teeth digging into the holed red ball, she mewls her screams as I trail the pinpoint across her right breast. Eyes clenched, red lips drawn back in a long grimace of agony, she can’t escape as I draw two more lines of red, parallel and under the first. I’m not slicing - yet - but you’d never know it from her agony.

I reach up, pinch much of her left breast and raise it until I can see her areola. I point the blade tip toward it as she stares down, huffing faster and faster.

I point the blade down as though I’m going to dig her nipple out with the razor sharp blade.

“Nnuuu! Plfheablre! Dnnt! Gdjndww!”

Her terror is delicious. Wait until I decide to start hurting her.

I bring the blade down, she has an instant of relief until she realizes I have no interest in mercy. I bring it to the lowest of the vest buttons, put it under and, with a hard flick the button is cut loose and flies away under the pressure of her upraised arms bearing her weight.

The jacket hangs wide open and now the white vest gapes a bit on the bottom. I insert the blade under the next button. She’s shaking her head, frantic to get me to stop. I can’t make out the continuous pleading no matter how many bitches I’ve heard it from.

Another flick and that pearl button flies out into the non-existent audience. Not since Yvonne has anyone pled so hard.

Two buttons down and six to go, the bottom of the vest gapes, but the pressure continues to increase as more and more support abandons her to fly into the seats. I can see her stomach and consider running the dagger’s needle point along it but I don’t want to distract her from the show she’s giving me as another button pops.

“Eezzz! Duunndersf!”

The fourth button shoots off and her breasts peek through the wide gap. I run the pinpoint tip along the bottom of her left one, still pressed full by the pressure of the restraining vest and she jerks, tries to pull herself up. She strains for a long time as I wait, point up under her left mound and eventually her strength gives out.

She comes down on the point and screams through the ball, head thrown back, every muscle in her body tight to endure the pain.

I didn’t penetrate, didn’t draw blood - yet - but her firm breast is deeply indented and she probably feels like she’s impaled it.

I turn the blade around just to enjoy another scream. Chest raised, back arched, head thrown back she screams into the ball, but after another scream I eventually ease up before she can faint.

She hangs gasping through the ball, her chest heaving enough to pop the last two buttons, strained as they are. I cut the second one off, it shoots off the stage into the tenth row and she picks her head forward, eyes locked on mine, the naked pleading thrills me to the tip of my cock.

Only one button remains and the vest doesn’t hide much at all. It’s stretched across the level of her nipples and is probably painfully tight, probably digging in really hard into her breasts. That last button will pop eventually so it’s a mercy when I put it out of its misery; the pearl thing shoots off as though fired out of a gun. The vest flies completely open, unveiling her full, trembling round mounds.

Her breasts are full and flawless, made even better by the four red lines of pain drawn across them. Her nipples are hard points, whether left over from her lust or responding to her terror and pain I don’t care. Her right breast is still red from my tight grip earlier and damn if I can’t see slight darkening of bruising from my fingers when I’d crushed both breasts.

They heave from her panting and they’re raw from their initial torture. I’d like to see them down, maybe later when I’ve worked on them for a couple of hours.

For now, they’re big, round, full, firm and magnificent.

I reach out and hold her heaving sides, steady her and look up slightly into her blue eyes.

“Wmnbvgh zengammngh! Plezzz!”

I bend down a bit, steady her by my hands on her heaving ribs and put my lips to her left nipple, suck it firmly, lick it for a while as it gets even harder between my teeth - and BITE!

Zatanna screeches, her body stiff as the barely muffled shriek goes on and on and I grind the nub back and forth and side to side in my clenched teeth. I keep it up as long as she screams and she has great lungs.

When she’s exhausted, nothing left to scream with, I let go and lean back to enjoy my masterpiece.

She inhales through the ball, a whistle of air that comes out again in another loud cry; not a scream this time but just as satisfying. She hangs suspended as I alternate between watching her face and flattened nipple. The tit is still firm but flat, the line of my teeth bisect the tiny nub.

I hold her more firmly and when she takes a deep breath I strike fast as a viper, my teeth clamp about her right nipple and she screams, bucks so violently under the ropes I can barely hold onto her.

This time I don’t grind, I don’t want to bite it off - yet - but let her continue to breathe and every breath erupts in another shriek. I let go with my right hand and clench her left breast, crush and twist. She’s a firm handful and I know the pressure flares new intensity into her nipple. I keep the biting and squeezing just at the right level to keep her screaming.

I give her a good three minutes of this, digging my fingers deep into her left breast, molding and twisting while I bite her right nipple before I decide to stop and move on to the next thing.

I don’t release her nipple, I jerk back while keeping the same pressure and her scream spikes even behind the holed ball. I just let go of her left breast because I want to enjoy her sustained agony.

She’s sobbing, crying brokenly into the scarlet ball and she’s gorgeous. Three minutes of nipple agony will make any woman lovely. Her right nipple is flat, nearly bitten in half but the pressure that filled her left breast to overflowing has expanded that nub, though it still shows the marks of my teeth. If she were milking, the pressure of my grip would have sprayed her out to the tenth row.

I really have to get a nursing bitch some day, maybe a twenty year old whose C’s have ballooned to D’s, full udders that’ll cover everything in the room - but that’s a pleasure for next time.

Zatanna hangs, gasping through the ball. She’s forced herself to stop crying. Well, I’ll make her wail later.

Right now she’s moaning, her lovely reddened boobs shudder and heave with every breath, her ribs shake with the effort to pull in enough air. I’ll let her catch her breath; it’s no fun if they can’t scream.

How her top hat stayed on through all this... but I’m glad it did, otherwise it’d spoil the mystique, sort of like me without Claude Rains’ mask.

I take a step further back, almost to the edge of the stage, where I can enjoy the show without worrying if she tries to kick. Her eyes, those expressive blue orbs, fix on me and I see the same things I’ve seen scores of times; pleading for mercy coupled with pure hate.

Well I know hate - though I’ve never known mercy.

When she catches her breath she hangs, strains to pull at the high ropes - why are they always so deluded to think there’s any hope? But they try, and it makes the nude shows delicious.

But Zatanna’s not nude, not yet. Time to get to that.

Chapter Four

Zatanna hangs, her arms reaching for the far ceiling at about 1:30 and 10:30, bared but not topless. Leaving her black tails jacket and vest, both wide open, make her look more naked than had I removed them. The mystique imparted by the clothes must be maintained, and the top hat would look silly if she were topless.

But her breasts, so round and firm, so deliciously full. I’m going to have a lot of fun with them – later.

I go to the pulley at stage left and pick up the rope, and as she watches me with mounting apprehension about to turn to terror I start pulling. The pulley eases the work I’ll have to do but Zatanna’s left leg starts to come out toward me. She tries to fight, turns toward me even against the high ropes and tries to pull back against the pressure at her ankle but, high heels eighteen inches off the floor she can’t do anything. She starts to come closer, her whole body giving way. I’m not sure how far I’ve pulled but I tie off the rope at the pulley and start toward her. She’s still fighting, her knee bent and pulling back so, since she’s facing me, I give her left breast a hard backhand slap as I pass.

Her boob bounces beautifully, especially as it hits the right one and she falls off her effort, turns upstage to the empty seats, her diamond meshed leg now extended to her left and slipper raised over two feet.

On her right side I start pulling that rope and she strains hard, pulling her legs closed against my pressure, grimacing tightly, her teeth digging into the holed red ball gag. Hard as she strains, she can’t fight me for long and, inch by inch, I’m victorious. She’s spread almost to 4 and 8. I could have done far more but it would limit her movements and I want her to move, so I tie the rope off and come back.

“Mmphern mrunrhnne mmurphaneh!” she pleads. I can read the pleading in her sapphire eyes. I’ve seen it so often, particularly with Marie who begged as much as she cried.

I reach out and take her breasts, get a good firm grip of each. They’re so firm hardly an inch comes through between my fingers but her clenched shut eyes, her lips drawn back from white teeth dug into the ball all testify to her delicious agony. I turn them left and right, not particularly hard this time because only moderate effort is needed to make her suffering shine on her face.

“MMPHRRR! MRTHRRR UKRRRR! NNNOMMMTTTHHHH!”

I step back and leave her gasping, breasts shaking with her frantic efforts, sweat glistening on her body. Her diamond nylon decorated legs are spread wide but it’s time to get her ready for her lessons.

I pick up the dagger and her eyes get big as silver dollars as I bring it to her, hold it straight upward – and lower it to her crotch.

I run the pin sharp upright tip of the dagger along her spread crotch, start to run it back and forth as she freezes with a convulsive gasp. I think she realizes what’ll happen if she tries to pull herself up away from the blade and her strength gives out.

“Gonna cut a hole to your hole,” I tell her, staring into her wide eyes.

“MMNMPHH! VRRSCD! MMMMNNTH!”

I go down on one knee, the better to enjoy the show. The dagger point has already scored her crotch, forming a shallow furrow up and down. Her lips are clearly defined; I’ll bet she never expected anyone to be down here anymore than she expected to be roped open.

She continues to plead and I half wish I could remove the ball so I could enjoy her begging, but I’m neither stupid nor suicidal. The ball stays in for the rest of her life. I must be happy with her muffled sounds as I keep a steady pace, her pants shredding thread by thread by thread.

I break through and only notice when the point grabs a bit of one soft lip and she yelps, pulls herself up by her widely spread arms. She manages no more than a few inches, but its enough to show me her soft flesh.

I wait until she can’t keep the strain anymore, but it’s enough. She’s not wearing any panties. The tease. She’d said if I wanted to get them off her I had to do it right.

Bet she never expected this.

Tired of the game - it’d been my tease - I grab her crotch and pull as she yelps, insert the dagger through the hole and start cutting.

“MMNPH! GNGUTCH FUVEE! MMPHRRCH!” She keeps it up for quite some time as I cut, slice up each hip and around, cut until I’m left with a handful of black strips in one hand, a dagger in the other and a sweet pussy over me.

She’s shaved smooth - lucky for her that she knows how a woman’s supposed to be - and her pussy looks so delicious I want to taste it right now. For so long I’ve fantasized about her, I was even willing to be gentle with her had she not been so stupid. Framed within the black mesh diamonds that go all the way up to her waist, she’s gorgeous.

She’s still straining to close her legs, stupid bitch, but I enjoy the show as she strains over and over again, how it makes her pussy bob inches from me.

One pair of nylon crisscrosses right at her hole so it looks like one large diamond frames her pussy. Can’t have that but I’ll fix it in a moment. I stand up, wanting to enjoy her helplessness.

She’d blushed while I worked and her face is still red, more so when I hold the ribbons and fragments of silk before her eyes and then drop them, one by one, to the floor between us, showing her over and over again her vulnerability.

She’s crying, a single tear traces down each cheek. She doesn’t want to cry, that makes her breaking all the sweeter. Her body glistens with sweat that doesn’t cover her but trails in individual droplets down her body, over her breasts to be stopped by the thin waistband of her nylons.

She’s completely open and available to me, helpless to stop me from doing everything to her pussy that pleases me, and I want to make sure she knows it.

She’s panting hard through the ball when I finish dropping the strips of her black pants. Focused as she is on her vulnerable her pussy is, I remind her her breasts are mine to enjoy and abuse by laying my hands upon her heaving mounds.

Her eyes immediately lock on the upright dagger on her left breast, her top hat blocking my view of those eyes but I get a good grip on her boobs and start to squeeze.

I go slowly, gradually increase the pressure as she groans. More pressure and she lifts her head, eyes clenched, face tight in a grimace, moans ripped from her as I tighten my grip, dig my fingers deep and hard into her firm flesh.

Her breasts are so full, so firm they barely slip a bit between my fingers but its the firm breasts that bring the most agony to a woman. Some women seem to have nothing, you can clench them like balloons and they barely know it; Zatanna doesn’t even need the bra she’d made vanish before she ruined it for herself.

She’s groaning more sharply by the second, her face contorted in her pain and I tighten and tighten as her breath comes faster and faster, her groans sharper.

Then I put everything into it.

“AAIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEE!” Even through the ball her piercing shriek fills the theater, echoes and reverberates off the distant walls and I make her exhaust all her air down to silent convulsing, hold it and hold it as her face gets redder and redder - then I ease a bit, not enough to stop the agony, just so she can breathe.

Her breasts feel so wonderful crushed in my hands. The only reason women have breasts is to hurt them and she suffers so delightfully. She’s so full and firm I can’t even get in more than two or three inches but she hangs here, legs spread, strangled screams ripped over and over again through the ball. Her chest heaves with every loud cry, her breasts pull against my grip with every scream. I want to ram my cock into her now over the music of her screams but I have to control myself.

I’ve barely begun to make her pay for that punch.

I give her about a minute more of this easy stuff before I stop. She hangs moaning and gasping, her heaving breasts striped white and red from my spread fingers. The imprint of the dagger’s hilt is clear in her left breast, it probably accented her torment. Her head has fallen back; she’s gasping, half sobbing, her breasts heave with every sharp breath.

I let her catch her breath as I watch, wondering what it’ll take to reduce her to a sobbing wreck.

I intend to find out.

I take the dagger with me as I kneel down and she tries to pull her hips back. I just reach back between her legs and push the blade point into her ass. She shifts forward again and I grab her right leg just under her hot and trembling ass, hold her tightly and bring the blade around and up to her crotch.

I look up and she’s staring down at me, eyes locked on the handle of my blade. I bring the sharp point up toward her pussy and she freezes, knowing that if she moves I’ll slice her worse. Like a deer caught in headlights, she probably figures if she holds perfectly still it won’t hurt.

Well, that’s true, because the only thing I care about at the moment is that bit of nylon that crosses her hole. I bring the point up and she’s still as stone, doesn’t even breathe. I flick the point over that X once, twice, three times and it breaks. She certainly felt it break for, seconds after I lower the blade, she virtually collapses in the ropes.

The diamond surrounding her pussy now is four times as big as any other, almost like her pussy’s framed and mounted. Well, it’ll be mounted shortly.

I stand up and she looks up at me, her mouth still strained open, but her eyes plead for mercy. “Plefff! Pleff lmme oooo. PLEEFFF!”

I reach out, my right hand rests against the side of her left breast but I just leave it there, touching but not hurting. She looks from my hand up to my eyes, wondering if perhaps I’m going to show her some mercy after all. She’s probably wondering what offers she could make to buy her way out of this.

Stupid bitch; I’m not showing mercy, I’m measuring and shaping.

I draw my hand back and, hard as I can, I slap her breast, the crack loud in the theater. “IIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE!” Head thrown back, body arching back in the ropes, her face contorted in agony, she screams her pain so if not for the ball gag the entire city could hear. Her boob bounced to hit her right one, both bobbing on her chest as she hangs, back bent. She’s unable to scream any more, the agony is just too intense.

It takes almost a minute before her body starts to relax and she collapses, gasping. Her left breast bears the reddening imprint of my palm.

SLAP!

“AAAAIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” Her right breast probably feels like it’s been slapped across the room. Her eyes had closed, she never saw it coming as again her body goes stiff, every muscle taut and her convulsed arms pulling her body up, the muscles in her legs standing out as they strain against the ropes.

She gradually relaxes, probably can’t stand the strain much longer, but before she can open her clenched eyes I hit the inner side of her left breast, try to knock it right off her chest.

She’s so stiff, and she probably thinks that as soon as she collapses again, her body going limp, I’ll hit her again.

‘CRACK!’ I hit her right breast harder than her left, just when she least expects it.

Her scream is so ragged and broken I wonder if she can scream very many more times.

She’s going to have to; I won’t give her any choice.

It takes a long time for her to collapse again after these four tit slaps. The last two I’d really meant her to feel like I was trying to bat them off. As she falls to the end of her ropes, collapsing before me, her breasts are certainly in agony and yet I expect tingle from the slaps. The four imprints of my hands are stark red against her heaving mounds that are probably so sensitive she can barely stand to breathe.

Wait until I really start to hurt her.

Chapter Five

I bend down to search through my box still at my feet and come back up with my favorite tool – and when she sees it her eyes bug out in terror and she tries to back away in the spreading ropes.

It’s a simple thing, silver and about as long as a scalpel, but instead of a blade on the end it has a silver wheel with eight long pins. The points are sharper than your average pin, however. This is a specially designed toy, designed for women, designed to teach them what pain really is.

I hold it up, make sure the light catches it just right to glint into her eyes as I bring it close, close, and her eyes reflect her terror. Maybe she’s had this used on her before? I won’t be as merciful as the last guy.

She’s gasping as her eyes follow the wheel with its eight pins. Altogether, though the base where the pins are attached is fairly small, the outer circumference of the points is nearly an inch so each pin will stab, one at a time, onto – or through – her flesh.

I put it on the top of her left breast and she flinches, a tiny yelp escapes through the gag, and I start to roll it down.

I go slowly, let her feel the full effect of each pin so she suffers with each and every prick. She tries to control her breath, she knows deep breaths will only hurt more, but she’s due for a surprise. It doesn’t matter whether she gasps and pants, I’ll hurt her as much as I want.

She keeps up a series of high pitched yelps as I roll the pins downward, aim straight for her nipple, and when I roll over her areola her cries turn to tiny screams.

Her screams are short and emphatic as I roll my toy along her nipple. I go slowly, pin after pin bites her, the one that goes straight into her nipple from the front obviously brings the most intense agony. I continue down to the underside of her breast as she tries the impossible, to hold her breath to hold them still while at the same time crying out with every sharp poke. I turn the course in a broken U-turn and come back up again, head right across her nipple again, press just a little harder. I do it again from a different angle and at the same time reach up to pinch her right nipple, roll it between my fingers as I run the points down the side of her left breast, down the slope and up again and she squeals, probably both in pain and knowing what I’m going to do.

I roll across and down her slope, across her chest and up her right mound, all the while she keeps up a symphony of pain. Her right nipple is hard now and the wheel heads straight for it.

I roll over her nipple and she convulses hard enough to make the pulleys above and to either side squeak even over her scream. I roll past and come back, press a little harder as I roll across her areola and up the hardened nub. Head flung back, she screams when I rotate the tool and start to roll the pins around and around her nipple.

Her screams rise to full blooded shrieks, she shakes her head so hard her body thrashes about and I have trouble keeping the pins rolling over and along her tit, each pin taking its bite. Her thrashing draws droplets of blood to dot her breast. Every time she screams herself empty she takes a deep breath that forces her breasts out to me and screams again as I roll around and around and over and across.

Lines of blood droplets mark the trail as I roll back to her heaving left breast. Her left nipple is down but no less sensitive, judging from her shrieks. I press just a little harder and she screeches, every muscle taut and straining against the ropes as I continue to mark the convoluted trail of tiny blood spots.

As much fun as this is, she’s seconds from fainting when I stop.

I don’t give her any mercy, just stop rolling and hold the toy still in front of her nipple.

She’s gasping, her chest heaving as though she run two miles and every gasp drives her nipple into the pins, mini screams burst through the red ball. Her body glistens with perspiration that runs in lines down her body, over her breasts, along her stomach and curving down to her pussy. Her eyes when they meet mine proclaim her begging but, lovely as that silent pleading is, I’ll give in to none of it. I watch one line of salty sweat head to and touch her right nipple and she grimaces in fresh pain.

“Plezzzzz! Sstp! Pleeeeezzzzz!”

She can plead all she wants, that’s half the fun. When she’s caught her breath - I want her able to scream for this next part - I put my toy at the top of her blood dotted left breast and slowly roll it down. She squeals as I follow the trail of a line of salty sweat over her nipple and continue to roll down her breast, down her ribs and keep on going.

She’d been staring at the rolling pins, now she looks up into my eyes and the terror in her wide blue eyes almost makes me come. She knows, as I keep rolling over her ribs and slowly down her stomach what my target is.

She pleads and I wish I could hear her clearly for she grows more desperate with every slow quarter inch. Flinching as she is from the pain of this sharp line, she knows the true agony will come when

“AAARRRGGGGGHHHHHHIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEE!”

I’ve reached her pubes, run over the mound that presages her deep valley and she convulses, tries to pull her hips back but no matter how far she withdraws I’m there, pressing the pins now. These large diamonds that outline her legs and pubes and more provide no protection at all as I keep lowering the toy, press firmly now to dig each sharp pin in. She strains to keep her hips back, useless though that is, and I press firmly as the pins roll under the pubes.

“EEEEEEEIIIIIIIIAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIII!”

She throws her head back and screeches, her body convulses wildly as she tries to get away and only succeeds in getting the pins to more spots. She screams again and again and I just have to see.

I crouch down and now I can aim the line of rolling pins. The pressure I’ve used has already drawn tiny drops of blood. The pressure of the ropes pulling her legs apart has opened her pussy and I roll the pins across her clit, one pin stabs the tiny nub and she shrieks so shrilly they’d hear her in the next state if not for the red ball gag.

I keep rolling into her pussy, the space isn’t wide but neither are the pins and they jab into her over and over, press the flesh sharply and sometimes the points disappear into her pink meat.

I look up her body between her shaking breasts to her face, such as I can see of it. She’s flinging her head back and forth, her breasts bouncing about on her chest as she convulses wildly and I draw the pins forward again, run along her pink inner flesh. She’s going wild in the restraining ropes, her leg muscles so taut they’ll probably tear as she flops around in the ropes. It’s hard keeping control as I slowly roll the pins back and forth, press firmly into her inner lips as she shrieks and screams.

I reach up and spread her, open her wider and now I have room to work. She’s so pink, so fresh, woman-flesh untouched by toys like mine and I roll in. I press firmly and she goes insane, convulsing and shrieking, pulls the ropes so hard it’s a wonder they don’t break. She flops about in my trap, does everything to escape the pins that roll back and forth, that stab into her over and over and over and she only rolls herself over it. I run my toy along her clit, give her a good stab and her body goes stiff, her screech so high and piercing it seems no human woman has ever hit that lovely note but it goes on and on as I keep the pin stabbed in.

She runs out of breath but not pain, I start the rolling again, spreading her with my fingers and getting in deep, rolling the pins along flesh that’d probably never been touched. She gasps deeply enough through the ball to scream again and again, the pitch growing beautifully higher until, after nearly thirty more seconds, she drops.

I stand up. She hangs limp, head forward. I have to grab her chin and push her head back and up to get the top hat out of my way. She’s completely limp; her head falls back so she looks blindly toward the ceiling. Top hat still jammed onto her head, scarlet ball gag strapped about her head to keep her red painted lips spread wide, white strap bow tie about her throat, white vest and black tails jacket spread wide by her hanging arms, full and firm breasts dotted red yet her firm flesh from abuse and swelling from the pounding and crushing they’ve taken, hands masking-taped over red leather wrist straps pointing to the secured ropes in the distant ceiling, long tapered legs decorated in diamond hole nylons, red straps securing her ankles to long ropes that reach to either distant stage wing, black high heeled slippers catching the lights in their polished leather, she’s absolutely beautiful.

I hate to wake her. There’s true beauty in an unconscious woman who’s reached the end of her endurance and yet has absolutely no idea what’s coming that’ll really teach her the meaning of pain. So far, I’ve been very gentle, but it’s getting on time to really start hurting this bitch.

Her full, round breasts look so delightful I clench my fists, draw back and ram them from each side, a double punch to crush her mounds between my hard fists and she comes instantly awake with a yowl I wish I could hear without the interference of the ball gag. She goes from total unconsciousness to agonized total awareness in less than half a second, yelling over and over again as her breasts continue to explode in agony.

Now they really look delightful, turning red and swollen from the sudden crushing impact. Her body shines under a sudden rush of sweat. She keeps yelling into the ball gag, hanging totally helpless, she must feel like her helpless breasts been smashed. They have. The surprise is only the icing on her breast pain cake.

She wails into the gag for nearly a minute as I enjoy the show.

Now that she’s awake I have something really special in mind.

Chapter Six

I step up, bend down and suck her salted left nipple into my mouth and she holds her breath, but she’s expecting a bite so I just suck and enjoy the taste. It tastes like salted beef and fresh blood and I look forward, in due time, to cooking it.

I switch to her right breast, probably confuse the hell out of her by not biting but she holds herself tense, ready for agony that doesn’t come even after another minute when I switch back to sucking and licking her left nipple, taste her blood and sweat and terror.

I reach behind her, my hands close on her ass and she flinches but I just keep running my hands up and down her rounded butt, stroking her cheeks.

She sounds confused, a woman’s natural state, and the sounds she’s starting to make making telling me that as we head onto five minutes of gentle nipple sucking she’s starting to feel it.

“Uhhhhhh. Ooohhhhhhhmmmmm. Aah-hhoo-oooooo. Uhh!”

I slip a finger in from behind, run it along her pussy lips and she tenses, yelps in fresh terror, tries to pull herself up by her arms as many inches as she can but I just continue to pet her soft lips, feel the pussy I’d run my pin toy over and over flinch over and over again under my petting finger.

“Ohhhhh! Ahh! Nnnnnnnnnggghhhh!

Women are put together all the same; be nasty as you want and then nuzzle her neck or suck and lick her nipples or pet her pussy and it’ll still feel good. I take my time, confuse and pet and lick and suck. I take it to five minutes.

“AAAHHHHH! Ohhhhh - nnnnnnggghhh! Ahhh-ahhhh-ahhhhh-aggggnnnhhhh!”

A few minutes more and she’ll get aroused - long enough and she’ll start getting wet - long enough and she’s going to want a cocking.

I switch back to her right nip, her blood tastes like ambrosia as I lick and suck and she’s making those sounds a hot woman makes whether she wants to or not.

“Oooooo! Hannngggghhhh! Eeeeiiiiii!”

I reach further down and forward to get a better touch on her pussy. She flinches, every muscle taut, but I just touch her gently, run my fingers up and down her lips.

“EEEEEEEEEE!”

I was right, her brain expects pain but her body’s starting to want cock. She’s already wet, trembling against my stroking fingers but getting hotter as I touch and tease her labia. She’s confused still, not trusting but I can feel her getting wetter and the sounds she’s making are confusion and betrayal, the betrayal of her woman body that wants man no matter what she has to do to get one.

“EAH! EEAH! Nnnnnnnnn!”

I switch again to her left breast, this time take more in and lick as well as suck.

“EEEOOOHHHHHAAAAAAA!” She spikes in a near squeak. She’s expecting pain but her boobs and pussy feel too good.

I’m about to reach further forward, to look for her clit, but there’s no need. She starts to move her hips, rubbing herself forward and back along my fingers and I can tell by her muffled groans that she does not want to.

“NNNNNN! NNNoooooo! Naggghhhh!”

I bring my right hand around to her front, now she’s been touched from both sides and her hips move her pussy and clit from one set of fingers to the other.

She’s mewling into the gag, no longer able to even try to form words around the ball. They’re the sound of betrayal. She doesn’t want to be hot, to be wet, but she is. Her body has control of her and her body wants cock.

“GGGHHHHHHGGGGG!”

As with every woman, she’s betraying herself and absolutely helpless to stop. She knows I’m going to do something - she can’t imagine what - but her body wants mine.

Funny, she’d’ve had it like this, would’ve been making these sounds in a bed had she not punched me.

But she’ll pay for that later.

She moans in pleasure/pain and I bring one finger up so her lips run along them and they open, allow her lips to slip along my now still finger.

“GKKKRRRRRNNNNTTTTHHHH!”

I look up into her eyes as I continue to suck and lick her nipple, she’s gasping in mounting pleasure, moaning in lust but her eyes say that though her body’s betraying her she doesn’t trust me.

I guess not every woman is stupid - just 99.9% of them. Give them a bit of sex lust and they’ll give themselves to anyone with a hard cock.

I’m not complaining; I’ve played this game a hundred times and it always comes out - and goes back in - the same. Every woman’s ‘no’ turns to ‘yes’ if you pet their pussies long enough.

“GNTH! GRGGTTHH! NAGGG! GAAAA!”

I reach back up from her heating ass, only my left hand down there now from the front, to stroke and pet her left breast while I keep sucking her right nip and wiggle my finger along her. Her moans jump the scale, she’s getting wetter and hotter - and a lot more sensitive. You can make a woman come buckets with a bit of patience, a simple touch drives her out of her lack of a mind. Her breasts get super sensitive, her pussy gets so sensitive and wet that a right touch can get her shaking like a flower in a hurricane and so crazed she’ll beg a cactus to fuck her.

I put both hands on her breasts, tease and knead, tweak and gently roll her nipples as I kneel down. Her wet pussy - yeah, shaved and pink and red hot - is inches from my face and I have to let go of her breasts but I get in, tilt my head up, get my mouth on

“NNNNNNNGGGGGGGBHHHHHHH!” she cries as her body goes stiff. She’s soaked, soft and boiling hot as I start to lick, suck her into my mouth. She moans loudly and an elephant sitting on her couldn’t keep these hips from moving her back and forth along my mouth.

She’s delicious, better than any woman I’ve had in months. That marvelous combination of fear and agony spice her wet pussy and I feel her getting hotter still. Her cries into the ball gag are still confused but every breath is a groan of lust. Her body’s doing everything it can to get cock. I can’t see her face from down here but I can hear her sharp “AAHHH!”s which spike as I get close to her clit. She’s moving her hips back and forth more sharply, confusion buried in mounting lust.

“IIIIIEEE! AAGGHH! NNNHGGHH!”

I put my fingers below my chin, insert one just enough to get her to feel it and her high pitched gasp lets me know she’s almost there. I get my tongue up into her as my other hand now attacks her clit, teases and pets as I lick deeper, her moans music through the theater.

I get my fingers on either side, pull her labia open and aside and now I can get to her deep pink inner flesh, my kiss sucks on the ultrasensitive flesh. I’ve got her spread wide, deep inside her, my lips clamped on her deep pink woman flesh and she’s making her sounds faster, louder, full yells into the ball as I get my mouth still deeper, suck her in, pull firmly on the pink inner flesh that’s so hot it’s cooking and so wet I might drown.

I get her deep, suck hard to bring as much of her inner flesh into my mouth and rub her clit with my fingers, drive her out of her mind. She’s yelling louder and louder, faster and faster, higher and higher as I get her into my mouth and she’s about to come. I can feel it. She’s going to have the gasm of her life in five, four, three, two

I BITE AS HARD AS I CAN!

She screeches, goes wild but I have my teeth firmly about her, bite more than an inch of her convulsing pink flesh as I grab her clit tightly and pull hard, her shriek climbing into the ultrasonic. Her body convulses around my mouth and teeth like she’s hit by a million lightning bolts, every move ripping her red flesh in my teeth. She’s shrieking so loud I’m barely sure the ball gags even still there. I can barely hold on with my left arm, my right hand’s still pulling at her clit – maybe I can pull it right off – as she goes insane around my clenched teeth.

I don’t know how long I keep it up, certainly as long as she can scream - but then I can’t hold off any longer. I let go of her and pull away, thrilled at the sight of her brutalized pussy. She’s not bleeding – yet – but if I spread her I’d be able to see where my teeth indented deep into her pink.

I stand up and start undoing my belt and pants. She looks up, sees me and knows what’s next. She tries to beg, to plead for mercy but she knows it’s hopeless. I can see it in her eyes. She’s had my fingers and mouth up there, now she’s going to get my cock and she knows it so well.

I leave my shirt on and she stares at me with a new kind of horror. I take a moment to enjoy it, this new terror in her eyes. She never knew when she punched me that she had been about to enjoy a good, thick ten and a half inches. Now I’ll enjoy them in her.

She tries to shake her head, to plead. Women always do. It never helps any of them.

I bend down, take the two ropes that trail past us toward the two side stage pulleys and she’s crying, weeping into the gag, wailing. If she were to live past today, she’d never want anyone to eat her pussy ever again.

The two ropes that hold her aloft are tied at the pulleys with special knots. I yank hard on both ropes, the knots slip and she shrieks, surprised as she drops suddenly to the stage.

Her legs are still tied wide open, of course, and when she crashes to the wooden stage she takes the full impact on her legs, goes from 4 and 8 to 3 and 9 in a quarter second, slams down on her soft and deep bitten pussy. She screeches in brand new agony as her thigh muscles probably feel like they’ve ripped before I kick her left breast, topple her backward. Now her hat goes flying when her head bounces off the stage.

I get on her before she knows what’s happening and only have to grab her arms, wrap the ropes a couple of times around them and then with my left arm I can keep both of hers pinned high over her head. I don’t have to do anything about her legs, she’s as open as ever and all I have to do is reach down, grab my missile and aim.

She tries, even though pinned under me, to move her hips enough to evade, to prevent me from getting her, but while dozens have tried none have succeeded. I press my head against her hot crotch as she yells and screams into the gag, bucks under me and I find her hole.

I push hard and she yells, convulses under me hard enough to almost buck me off as I force an inch inside her. I’ve never had a woman not cry at how wide I am and when I get in deep….

I shove again, hold her arms up with my left hand and my right clenches her left breast as I shove again and she screams. I’m halfway in and another hard shove buries me to her limit as she flings her head back and screeches high enough to bring the building down. I’ve got her stuffed and she’s crying, wailing like the bitch she is. There’s no sound in the world more beautiful than the scream of a bitch when she’s been filled to bursting. Every bit of her is stuffed, stretched to her limit. She’s an eight incher.

Surprise!

I’m a ten and a halfer.

I slam all the way in and she screeches, convulses under me, probably feels like I’ve torn her apart. I pull out against her tightness and shove in again as she screams her agony when I pause, then slam those last two plus inches into her.

I clench my fist into her breast, dig my fingers in as hard as I can into her firm tit and give her another slam to remind her again what a woman’s supposed to feel.

I keep giving her doubles, bang in to stretch her to the limit of her pain, then that last two inch shove that makes her scream, throw her head back and forth an inch from my face as I hold her arms up with my left hand and study her agony with every crash into her.

I love it, this teaching women their place. Under me, shrieking in agony. Women are designed to be under men, impaled by massive stakes, screaming so much they can’t even beg or cry. Too bad it’s a short lesson for most but maybe I’ll keep Zatanna around for a little while. She screams so sweetly.

I pound in and then give her the special again and again. She feels so good convulsing under me, her screams tightening her pussy and her face mirrors her anguish so beautifully.

I keep the double strokes but speed up. She’s writhing under me, unable to finish one scream before I slam her again. I can feel my cock get wet and I’m sure it’s not from her cream.

She screams so shrilly she’ll probably deafen me, but I’ll recover a lot sooner than she will. If she doesn’t hemorrhage I’ll let her know what her ass should feel like later.

For now she’s just so good and tight. Her screams convulse her pussy around me and make me work harder, which hurts her more and it’s an up-building spiral. I hit her faster and faster, harder and harder, it just feels so good I can’t slow down and her cries are almost one unending, unbroken screech. I can barely hear the pauses for air before I slam into her and rip another shriek from her.

I push up, let go of her arms since she’s going nowhere. I grab her breasts in both fists, ride her as I slam her over and over, now able to see how she convulses, pinned under my crushing grips on her breasts as I ram her over and over. Faster and faster, no longer caring now for the two-step; I just slam my ten plus inches into her eight inch pussy as hard and as fast as I can as she screams and shrieks and screeches.

I come with a yell of my own, grind myself into her, try to crush her clit between us, clench her breasts with all the strength I have left as she gives one last cataclysmic screech, pinned by my grip and weight on her breasts and I come and come and come into her.

I collapse, half exhausted, onto her, pin the weeping bitch into the stage like a butterfly pinned on a display.

I’m panting. It was a long and hard work-out and Zatanna’s body feels so great under me. Her heart’s thumping under me like a bass drum, delicious accent for my renewing, mounting lust.

How should I hurt her next?

She’s weeping, her breasts moving my exhausted body up and down as she gasps for air to cry more.

My cock throbs in her and every beat makes her cry more. Wide open, crying, agonized and beaten, she’s woman perfected and I don’t want to get off. I just want to feel her helpless body under mine while I rest and consider what to do with her next.

“AH!”

That didn’t sound as muffled as usual and, pushing myself up by my grip on her breasts, I look down at her.

Her left hand is free. She unwrapped it!

The ball gag is out of her mouth. She’s yanked it down and out, it rests against her throat.

What did she say?

AAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHH!