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Old 05-29-2012, 03:17 PM   #13
darkstalker
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Jennifer stares wide eyed at the man before her. “P-please,” she says. “Don’t hurt me anymore!”
Hector tilts her chin up, looking into her large brown eyes. So full of fear they are. “That will be up to you dear. Now are you understanding your position here?”
Jennifer swallows, tears running down her cheeks. “Ye-yes,” she says.
“Good,” he says, removing his hand from her so her head falls forward, hair matting her face, shoulder hunched. A beautiful degraded figure. “And you will do everything we say...” he licks his lips, loving the words to come out. “Fuck toy?”
Jennifer visibly shivers but nods. “Good,” he says. “And if you don’t comply we’re going to do worse to you. I hear blow torches against the vagina are quite the sport in some places, and the flesh there burns so wonderfully!”
She stares wide eyed, piss trickling down between her legs. “So we have an understanding?” he says, moving aside a strand of hair from before her eyes. “Yes? You’ll do whatever the men outside and I say.” And he grips a handful of her hair, pulling it tight and jerking her head towards him. “Or else.”
Tears stream down her eyes. “Ye-yes,” she says. “I’ll do what you want. Just don’t hurt me.”
He lets go of her hair, letting it fall back into place. “Oh, we’ll hurt you alright. But it’ll be worse if you resist. Understand?”
She nods in defeated tones. “Good,” he says. Turning to the two men around him he says, “get the extra key from the locker and unlock her cuffs. She can’t very well perform her duties with her hands locked behind her.”
The men nod and head to the cabinet. Hector smiles, loving Jennifer’s shivering form. It is lucky the cuffs are only standard issue and any key will work. It would be annoying to snap the cuffs and leave her with them on. He sits, observing her and she shrivels into a ball, knees rising to her face.
“Got it boss,” says one man.
“Good. Remove the cuffs.”
The man does as told and Jennifer sits still as the cuffs are removed from her wrist and simply circles her arms around her chest.
He walks around, letting her shiver in fear for a moment and picks up his cane. It is sickly and wet. Taking a rag from the floor he cleans it off and curses. There is a crack at its center. The damned thing is cracked! He growls inwardly, knuckles turning white, hands balled into large fist. “Fucking cunt!” he says, motioning the cane towards the prone girl. She shivers trying to make herself smaller. Hector growls but keeps quiet, balling up the anger into a small space. He’ll extend her suffering, that’s it. Let everyone else in on it as well and make her participate in her degradation.
“Jennifer?” he says quietly, remembering the girl’s name from the dossier Mr. Markson had given him. The girl reacts instinctively, her eyes widening. “Now that’s not the way a future lawyer is supposed to act,” he says, reveling in degrading her dreams. He tosses her the rag. “Clean yourself up. Don’t want you all dirty for the guest.”
Jennifer slowly pushes the rag down between her legs, cleaning the piss that came out. “Get up,” he says impatiently. “And clean up where we can see you!”
Jennifer stands on shaking legs and starts wiping her cunt lips and legs of the stream of urine. “Faster,” says the man, “dig it in!”
She tries rubbing it faster, but her lips are horribly sore, and her attempts feel awkward and feeble at best. She hates this, hates how she is degrading herself as a spectacle before these men.
“Go show her how it’s done,” Hector says to one of the men. The large man nods and walks towards her, gripping her arm and yanking the rag away. Then without any delicateness, begins to roughly swipe at the piss on her legs and roughly plunges the rag into her sore pussy, twisting it and turning it.
Jennifer screams. “Aaaahhh!! It hurts!” she says, trying to push the large man’s hand out of her pussy. But he ignores it and continues to clean until her body is free of the urine. Taking the rag over to the nearest garbage can he tosses it in unceremoniously, giving her a deadly glare. Jennifer shiver, rubbing her arms. Her hips burn and the towel with lint had been none too gentle on her delicate features.
“You,” says Hector to the other man. “Get four bowls of salt ready.” The man nods, taking small bags of salt and tearing them open.
Hector turns back to Jennifer who stares wide eyed. Why would they need salt, she thinks. Hector snaps his fingers and Jennifer comes to attention anew.
“And you my little whore, take your shoes and socks off. You won’t need those. But you can put your shorts back on.”
Jennifer complies, removing her shoes quickly and tossing them aside. She picks up her twisted up panties, uncurling them and opening the leg to put it back on when the man snaps his fingers.
“What did I say Jennifer?”
Jennifer stills, her leg already in one slot of her panties. “Tha-that I could put my shorts back on?”
“Yes, and do those look like shorts to you?”
Jennifer looks down at her pink panties and shakes her head, tears brimming in her eyes. “No, they’re not,” he says. “Bring those here and you can put your shorts back on.”
She slowly removes her panty again and walks over to the fat man who sits against the wall, cane under his pudgy hands. She presents her intimates to him and he takes them from her in a swipe, pressing them against his nose, inhaling deeply. “Mmmm... good, chica. You have a good smell. Now get back with you and put your shorts back on.”
He whacks her lightly between the legs making her yelp and go stumbling back towards her shorts. These bastards! If she can somehow get out of here and...
“Bring me a knife,” says the man. “Jennifer’s clothes are too big for her I think.”
She puts the shorts on slowly as she hears the creaking of the cabinet doors and the sliding of metal as something is withdrawn. “Here you go boss.”
“P-please...” she says, wetting her lips. “Don’t hurt me!”
“Come here,” says the man, motioning with a large butterfly knife, its blade shining in the dull lights. Jennifer shakes her head, fear gluing her feet in place.
“God damn it,” says Hector, “go bring her over here!”
One of the large goons comes towards her, grabbing a handful of her hair and drags her over to his boss. She yelps, and screams, begging the men not to hurt her. As her face is pushed towards the fat Hispanic, he slaps her across the face. “You come when I tell you to come, chica!” he says, motioning with the blade. “Now hold her,” he says to the man, who pulls her hair back. “And you...” he says, tapping the blade on her breast. “Stay still. You don’t want me to slip with the blade do you?”
She shakes her head emphatically. “Good,” he says.
Taking her top by the bottom he places the knife in between, stabbing it through the fabric and begins to slice around the edges, instructing the man to turn her around and Jennifer to lift her arms as he cuts the material in a full circle, finally yanking the last strap away.
Looking her over now, Hector smiles, the tool inside his pants starting to grow hard. Jennifer’s Hooter’s tank top, once reaching down long enough to be tucked into the shorts has been shorn away so her breasts now poke out of it, the tips of her nipples sticking out. Jennifer cries from the shame and humiliation. “Turn around,” he instructs her and she does as told.
He gives her a good slap on the rear, and smiles. “Good. Good,” he thinks. “But that pussy should be more accessible.”
Yanking at her crotch, he sticks the knife in and slashes down. Instructing her to turn around he cuts away a portion of the front so that now part of her pussy is exposed to the elements. Hector dangles the discarded fabric before her like a squirming worm. “No need for extra material that is wasteful,” he says and tosses the excess into the garbage.
“Now...” he says, handing the knife to one of the men. “I think there is something you can do for me chica, before I give you to my men.”

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