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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2010. Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story. All rights reserved. Thank you for your
consideration.
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Orgasm at Eleven
by Gamma (address withheld)
***
Three men want justice for the pain and suffering
caused a family member when a reporter smeared their
family name only to find out that she was mistaken.
(MMM/F, nc, bd, forced-orgasms, public, exh)
***
The beautiful TV reporter walked slowly down the dark,
abandoned alley. She knew it was sheer madness to be
out here, alone, late at night, in a rough part of
town. But she smelled a story -- a big story -- and she
was determined to get the scoop. Alone.
They'd counted on that, of course. They knew her. They
knew her ego. Her lust for achievement. They dangled a
tasty morsel in front of her. An irresistible story.
One that would surely get her Prime Time exposure.
She'd taken the bait.
They didn't need to kidnap her. They'd lured her into
their trap easily. She was voluntarily delivering
herself to them. Though, of course, she didn't know
that when she entered the alley; a one way alley to her
wildest fantasies and cherished nightmares.
She found the small doorway just where the note said it
would be. Carefully she opened it, stepped into the
basement of the building, and shut it behind her.
Hidden in the shadows, the men heard her enter. Their
pulses quickened when they realized their quarry was so
near at hand. The long wait for revenge was almost
over. In the darkness, each man thought back a year.
They could see her now on the newscast, eyes sparkling,
mane of chestnut hair framing her beautiful face. She
broadcast her story about their brother to a national
audience. Unfounded allegations, hearsay evidence
taken as gospel in her rush to break a story. Her
career needed a boost. The ratings were slipping.
She'd do anything to get that prime time exposure.
*
Ah yes, prime time exposure. The opiate of news people.
The greatest of aphrodisiacs. The most coveted of
treasures. Prime Time exposure. She craved it as surely
as the heroin addict craves his drug. Their brother was
indicted on her evidence. She was a celebrity for
breaking the story. A national scandal ensued. Too bad
it wasn't true.
The story didn't wash, ultimately. Nobody could prove
their brother guilty of anything. Legally, he was
cleared. But the story lingered like a dark cloud. He
was suspect. His position of power was eroded by the
lie. In the end, it ruined him. She'd screwed him
completely in her desire to make news.
In her desire to break a hot story and get prime time
exposure. And the worst part was, when the original
story turned up false, she never issued a retraction or
a correction. She ignored their brother's acquittal,
discarded his plight as old news.
*
She made her way down the dim corridor. Everywhere were
pipes and throbbing, growling machines. The place was
hot, humid, oppressive. She cautiously stepped forward,
her legs, in their dark stockings, gleaming in the
light. In the shadows, the three men watched her. They
marveled at her athletic movements as she prowled, a
leather jacket over a turtleneck sweater and charcoal
colored tweed skirt. Beautiful. Fucking beautiful. Even
prettier than on TV, here in the flesh. And smaller.
And alone.
"Anybody here?" she called out, fear and doubt etched
in her voice. "Hello?"
So close, they thought.
Just a few more steps. She reached a door. It was
closed. She slowly opened it and poked her head inside.
Quickly the three men jumped from the shadows behind
her and pushed her into the room. They followed behind,
the last of them slamming and locking the door quickly.
The trap was sprung. She was theirs. Payback time.
**
Three hours later, the newswoman found herself naked,
bound spread-eagled between two pipes, in the hot
basement boiler room. The heavy machinery throbbed with
energy. Even without the gag, her cries would never be
heard. But she was gagged. With her black silk panties.
Stuffed deep in her mouth and held there with one of
her stockings wrapped and tied around her head. Her
arms were spread high and wide, strapped to the posts
with leather belts.
Likewise her ankles, tied so that she stood on tiptoes,
her legs splayed wide, revealing the furry mound of her
sex. It thrust forward in throbbing invitation. The
boiler room was very hot. A sheen of sweat glistened on
her lean and taut body. Her mane of hair framed her
face and shoulders.
In those three hours, the men had used her mercilessly.
With their hands and lips, cocks and whips they had
wrung pain and pleasure from her bound body. They had
made her pay for what she'd done to their brother. Thin
red lines crisscrossed her back, ass, belly and thighs.
A spray of marks between her legs testified that no
part of the beautiful woman had been spared the kiss of
the whip.
She had been whip-fucked - one man fucking hard and
deep into her cunt while another laid the whip on her
ass, causing her to jerk and writhe in a most
stimulating manner. They had tied her arms behind her
back, then raised her wrists upwards, causing her to
bend over at the waist. In that position, her legs
still splayed wide, one man had enjoyed her cunt while
another had her pleasure him with her mouth.
In the hot basement, the men used the newswoman. They
reminded her of what she'd done, talked to her of
"justice" even as they pumped their hard cocks into
her. Again and again they had taken her; again and
again she had bucked and humped, moaned and spasmed.
For though she had at first resisted, her eyes flashing
in angry defiance, the proud beauty had finally been
tamed. And mastered. And turned on.
Slowly but surely, her moans of humiliation and anguish
had become wanton groans of arousal. The steely
defiance with which she had met the early whiplashes
and thrusting of their cocks had given way to a humping
rhythm that said all to clearly that her own needs were
inflamed. At 10:30 the men dressed.
The moved a sturdy stanchion between her wide-spread
legs and bolted it in place. It's top was a thick
rubber dildo. Raising the pole slowly, the men
penetrated the bound captive yet another time. When
the dildo was in her pussy so the rubber spikes at its
base pressed hard against her cunt lips and clit, they
locked it in place. A small timer was set. And then
they set up the video equipment.
The girl watched in horrified fascination and a growing
sense of doom as a bright light was aimed at her
sweaty, spread body. The camera was positioned and
adjusted. Her image flickered to life on a small
monitor turned so she could see it. There she was in
all her naked glory, as she'd never before been seen by
any TV audience.
Her body was beautiful, spread, sweaty, marked by the
whip, her pussy hairs glistening with the juices of her
earlier fucking. When she rolled her head back in
despair, one of the men tied her other stocking to her
gag and then to an overhead pipe. When he tightened the
bond, her head snapped forward so she stared ahead.
"In about fifteen minutes," one man said. "The dildo
will kick-in. Fifteen minutes after that, at 11, your
newscast begins. That's when the camera and transmitter
engage. There's enough power here to jam all TV signals
within a hundred miles. Tonight, bitch, you're the
news." And then they left her.
She squirmed and struggled to no avail. As she
succeeded in doing was to make her pussy throb as she
churned upon the dildo. Sweat trickled down her face,
her breasts, her thighs. Her strained position and the
hot basement made her glisten. A trickle of her wetness
slowly oozed down the inside of her thighs.
When the dildo switched on she moaned loudly and
writhed crazily in her bondage. Again to no avail. She
was trapped and she would just have to suffer whatever
indignities that lay ahead. She couldn't resist the
dildo. It was in too deep, its vibrations too powerful.
And her owned wracked position, the absolute wanton way
she was exposed, naked and open, only added to her
arousal, as had all the fucking she'd already endured.
And her humiliation in realizing what would soon happen
only seemed to add fuel to the growing fire in her
loins. She felt herself racing towards a well-timed
climax.
Meanwhile, the three men sat in a bar in the city. They
watched the end of the TV show with a hundred other
men. They watched some dumb commercials and then the
introduction to the news. Then the screen broke up for
a second into snow and jagged lines. When it focused
they smiled.
There was everybody's favorite newswoman, the object of
a million wet-dreams and fantasies, spread, naked,
whipped and coming in her bondage. Her hips humped the
dildo, her head shook, her eyes closed tightly, her
breasts heaved as she gave into the spasms that
consumed her. Beautiful. Fucking beautiful. The timing
was perfect.
She climaxed just as the broadcast started. In the bar
and across town and in all the cities for miles around,
TV audiences stared in wide-eyed amazement at the
picture on their sets. The men had gotten their
revenge.
It would be hours before the authorities tracked down
the source of the transmission and managed to stop the
obscene live broadcast. Hours in which the beautiful
anchorwoman had writhed and squirmed and jiggled and
heaved, coming to climax after climax until she slumped
exhausted in her bonds. Hours in which she finally got
the one thing she'd always craved so much: prime time
exposure!
END
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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 66