Bound Beauties 7



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Now her chair back was the seat front. Her legs had naturally come together and
tucked under her rear. She sat like that one the floor as he continued to hold
her by her hair and her nipple. The pressure felt unbearable.
"The clip," the Procurer said.
Paula smiled. She took the little metal clip with the wire running from it and
held it up beside her. The Procurer released Rebecca`s nipple just long enough
to grab it from his driver.
It was like mist clearing in Rebecca`s brain. There was still the sharp pain at
her scalp, but at
least the sensual fog was lifting. Her eyes snapped open, naturally searching
for evidence of her tortured tit`s condition. She saw her right breast at
attention.
It had been a strong, circular orb before, with a perfectly round pink areola
low on the breast, but now it was almost cylindrical, tilting up, the pink
nipple tab reddened and sticking out almost three times its normal length. It
seemed to quiver there, pointing.
And then . . . into her sight came the clip. It was a simple metal spring clip,
a tiny one, the kind she had seen in her own office on occasion. Paper clips
had
all but made them obsolete, but at offices with tradition they were still used.
But this one was slightly different. On one of the handles of this was a
rubber-coated wire, its end stripped so the copper could be wrapped through the
little hole in the clip handle.
But then the sight was pulled out of her view as the Procurer gave a mighty
yank
on her hair. She was pulled back, the pain suddenly incredible, her body taut.
But then the pain, if not abated, became familiar enough for her mind to work
through it. Her pointing, raw, exposed nipple . . . the clip....
It was too late. She moved too late. She didn`t move fast or far enough. By the
time she surged up, trying to snake across him, the clip had closed.
There was no sensual pleasure here. These metal fingers brought only pain. Pain
that seemed to go, like a dentist`s drill, into and through her tit.
The Procurer grabbed her. He grabbed her around the neck with his right arm,
and
around her torso with his other arm. He drew her close, holding her against him
tightly, her feet left to try and find purchase on the floor.
In that position, Rebecca could see. Although his arm was hard against her
throat and pinioned her arms, her eyes were free to be wide open, and staring
straight ahead.
She saw Paula`s smiling profile. She saw that the woman`s left hand was still
on
the wheel, guiding them through the streets of the town which never closed. But
the traffic was abating. They were nearing the residential areas. If she didn`t
do something soon, her chances of escaping would be cut dramatically.
Her eyes went to search for some sort of solution, but froze on what Paula held
in her right hand. She held it up the same way she had held the clip, so it
could be seen and taken if necessary.



He pulled her skirt down, covering the ropes. "So I had to think. I had to
understand. So I took the time and decided." Paula, listening in the front
seat,
having heard this before, smiled. The Procurer tapped on the window between him
and his driver. She pressed in the cigarette lighter.
Rebecca`s body flopped on the floor, her eyes snapping open. The Procurer
tapped
the partition again. Paula pulled the lighter out. Rebecca trembled on the
floor, crying from the renewed pain. The Procurer leaned over his face.
"I decided not to keep anything ever again," he said slowly. "Just to have,
that`s all. What I want, I take, but then I`ll get rid of it before someone
takes it from me. You understand?"
He put his hands on her breasts, the right one -flat on her left tit and the
left one curled around the nipple of her right. He squeezed. "I will use you. I
will dress you the way I want, and I will hold you the way I want, and I will
do
anything I want to you. You can try to scream. You can try to fight. You can
try
to escape if you want. It will make no difference. You don`t have to do
anything. It will make no difference."
"You will do what I want you to do because I know how to make you."
To prove it, he took her left nipple in his two fingers and twisted that just
the right way. Rebecca jerked on the floor in surprise. Stereo. She started
crying in earnest, her body really quaking, as she realized the full scope of
his power over her.
"No matter what you want or who you are, you will be there for me," he said.
"When I am out, you will be there. When I am in, you will be there. No matter
who is passing by, you will be there. No matter who or where they look, you
will
be there. You will not do as I say because I will not say it. I will simply do
it. Whatever I want."
Rebecca started pleading with him, shaking her head, begging him to let her go.
All he saw was a sweaty little girl with a face wet from sweat, mucous, and
drool. Her hair was shiny and curled by the perspiration. Her glowing lips
worked over the obstruction in her mouth. Her muscles and bones stood out from
her shining skin as she pulled on her wrist bonds. Her feet were swollen,
tightly trapped in her shiny high-heel shoes.
"We`re almost there," Paula reported, motioning to the suburban atmosphere they
were driving through.
"All right," said the Procurer. "Plug her in."
Paula pulled off S. Carrollton Avenue as Rebecca flopped on the car`s floor
like
a hooked fish. The driver pulled into the narrow, tree-lined driveway of a
long,
rectangular building, nestled among a row of identical buildings. These were
the
railway car houses: antique, traditional New Orleans homes, which were
originally railroad cars.
But when it was time to pull off the tracks and settle down, the railway
workers
decided to take their rail homes rather than buy or build new ones. The wheels
were taken off and foundations replaced them. Some people put up walls and
partitions. Others left it one long room. In any case, the railways homes remained, and in his father`s dealings, the Procurer was left with one.



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