And Rachel continues...
Enjoy!
Her voice drips in disdain, her imposing figure is looming over me. Her muscles, rippling with power, are a silent warning of the danger lurking beneath her seemingly calm and drop-dead gorgeous exterior. My mind races as I weigh the options. Begging for mercy would only further reinforce my status as weakling in her eyes. Running away is impossible. My restraints are so tight. Telling the truth may be the only option I have. I do not want to end up like this cleaning guy, skull broken and bleeding to death on the ground... My God, that kick was brutal... My words come out in a rush.
- Honestly, Rachel. I was forced into orgasm. I swear that I had no intention at all to kiss Denise or Elle as she called herself. It's the truth. I... I didn't mean to fail Aletta. And I don't want to fail you. You are so gorgeous! I would do anything to serve you.
Rachel cuts me off with a sharp gesture, her gorgeous eyes narrowing into slits of suspicion. Despite my situation I cannot help but think what a formidable sight she really is! A stunning beauty. She embodies the perfect balance between femininity and muscularity: every movement of her curvaceous dreambody is accompanied by a flex and ripple of menacing muscles. Her arms are so thick, each muscle sharply delineated and etched with definition, biceps and triceps swelling with man-crushing power, forearms rippling beneath her smooth, taut and deeply-tanned skin.
- You expect me to believe that? Forced into an orgasm? That's the best excuse you can come up with, you stupid fuck? Do you think I will show some mercy if you sweet-talk me, huh? Do you?
Her sudden aggression is unnerving. Despite the temptation to cower before her, I muster all my courage to meet her gaze, hoping to convey the sincerity of my words. I see nothing but contempt in her green eyes. I manage to stammer, unable to hide the desparation in my voice:
- I... I swear, Rachel. I have no intention of betraying Aletta or you. Please don't hurt me.
With a swift and powerful motion, Rachel grabs me under the armpits, lifting me and the chair I am bound to effortlessly from the ground. I marvel at her raw strength.
- My God, Rachel, please, you must believe me. I tell you the truth and nothing but the truth! Don't kill me, please!
Suddenly I feel myself being hurled across the room. The force of her throw is overwhelming, exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time. My breath catches in my throat as the sheer velocity leaves me disoriented and helpless. The surreal sensation of the immense acceleration makes my senses reel. The air rushes past me in a roar, drowning out any other sound, the room blurring. Everything testifies to Rachel's unbelievable power. My weightlessness comes to a crashing halt against the far concrete wall: I crash hard and drop to the floor. The impact reverberates through my body, jolting me back to the harsh reality of my predicament.
- I'm going to make you regret the day you were born, M. Rosenberg.
I am hardly conscious, but the pain, immediate and intense, brings me back. I try to brace myself. What can I do? My shoulders and ribs hurt terribly. Pain is all I feel. Everything hurts. I hear the distinctive click-clack of her heels echoing like a heartbeat, a rhythmic pulse of strength and sophistication. Each step is a statement, a declaration of boldness and female superiority. In a haze I notice how blood is still dripping from her right boot, the ultra-high heel is simply drenched in it, but Rachel does not seeem to care.
- You're pathetic. You're nothing but a weakling, begging for mercy like a whimpering dog. You're mine now.
I am in shock. I move frantically in my chair, but to no avail. I am well restrained. I gasp, struggling to rise from the floor, my voice trembling with fear. There is not much I can do but to submit.
- This doesn't have to end like this, Rachel. We can work this out.
She chuckles evilly. Her voice betrays a mixture of amusement and contempt.
- Work this out, M. Rosenberg? Oh, I think we're well beyond that point now. You will make an excellent addition to my own workout routine. I could use something to work out this pent-up aggression. Does that work for you?
The threat is obvious, each syllable dripping with malice, suffocating any hope of escape.
- Please, Rachel. I'll do anything. Just let me make things right.
She tilts her head, a sinister smile playing at the corners of her lips.
- Anything, you say? How intriguing.
With a push from her legs, Rachel propels herself into a series of cartwheels, her muscular arms gracefully supporting her weight. The sound of her stiletto heels echoes through the room, a rhythmic accompaniment to her athletic display. With each cartwheel, her muscles flex and ripple, showcasing years of dedication and training. The lube on her tanned skin accentuates the ultra-defined contours of her sexy bodybuilding physique, the sleek faux leather molding to her ample curves, highlighting every flex and pump. I notice the thin straps of a black thong disappear into the contours of her muscular bubble butt. She moves with precision, each movement fluid and controlled despite the weight of her formidable body. She seems to defy gravity, when she seamlessly transitions into backflips, her physique arcs with elegance, each flip executed with strength and finesse. She flawlessly lands with poise and absolute control in front of me on these impossibly high heels. Dwarfing me. Both hands reach out and I flinch as she touches my naked skin, her iron grip tightening around my neck and crotch, her ultra-long nails digging into my frail flesh like claws. She seductively purrs:
- You think you can escape my grasp, do you? In my world, there are those who lead, and those who follow. And you have chosen your side. Let's start with a simple lesson in obedience. And perhaps, if you prove yourself worthy, we can explore other... arrangements. Hehe.
My heart pounds in my chest as I brace myself for what is to come, knowing that in the presence of Rachel, there is no room for mercy. Only submission. And it is as if she reads my thoughts:
- I leave no room for weakness. No room for defiance. And certainly no room for you.
With a cruel smirk, Rachel further tightens her grip around my neck and balls. I wince in pain, feeling the sharp pressure of her fingers cutting off my air supply and nearly crushing my testicles. And then, for a second time, the gorgeous bodybuilder lifts me high above her head and in an explosion of force hurls me against the unforgiving stone wall again. The impact sends shockwaves of agony through my already battered body. I can hardly breathe as my ribcage breaks the impact. I crumple to the ground, my limbs still tightened to the chair, unable to move. The room spins around me. It has become a dizzying blur of stone and steel mixed with sexy shiny leather and oiled up female muscles. I struggle to regain my bearings. Fuck, my whole body hurts. I am shaking from the adrenalin pumping through my veins. How long will I be able to take this?
- What bodypart do you want me to start with, M. Rosenberg? Want me to break a leg? Crush a knee? Pop an eye? Tell me. I'll be glad to accomodate myself to your deepest desires...
I start crying. Every thought of resistance ebbs away; every semblance of resistance has died. I realize that there is no room for negotiation, for mercy. For Rachel, it is all about dominance and power. And in that game she reigns supreme.
- Tears, M. Rosenberg? How touching. I must say that I didn't realize I was dealing with such a delicate little flower.
I feel my cheeks flushing with embarrassment and I struggle to stop crying. Rachel's laughter rings out like a cruel echo in the room as she scoffs:
- Do you cry every time a real woman plays with you? And this is not even foreplay.
Her laughter subsides and is replaced by a cold, calculating gaze.
- Don't you know that hanging around with female bodybuilders comes at a cost? It's time to pay the bill. Let's make sure you're visible for the audience.
With an ease that speaks volumes of strength, she grasps the back of the steel chair, lifts it -- me included -- and positions it back onto the ground, its legs touching and scraping the floor, in full view of the one-way mirror again. One fluid motion is all she needs. My God, she must be so fucking strong. I feel like I have been run over by a truck. Everything hurts. I drop my head in dejection and my thoughts wander to the helpless cleaner on the ground. That kick. Those shots. Executed without the slightest remorse. This babe is a killing machine, a gorgeous monster bathed in the shimmering glow of leather and oiled muscles. And I am her next victim. Tears continue to run down my cheeks. With deliberate grace, she extends her hand, the glint of her long-nailed finger catching the light, and reaches toward me. She slips her finger under my chin lifting my head gently but firmly. The touch is commanding yet strangely tender. As she leans forward, I am captivated by how the shiny material of her top shifts, offering a tantalizing glimpse of her formidable cleavage, her ballooning tits glistening with the sheen of oil, a glow that amplifies their perfectly round form and superior size...
- Enjoying the view?
Her voice is cold and full of sarcasm. She looks down on me with a mixture of disdain and amusement, knowing well that this tantalizing display of femininity completely drives me crazy. I know this is not an invitation, but a deliberate move to assert her total dominance. A weapon. And it only adds to my vulnerability: I cannot help but being mesmerized by her ultra-sexy curves and muscles, this blend of female power and beauty. She is simply magnetic. Orgasmic. And she adds:
- Don't get too comfortable, you sorry excuse for a man.
And suddenly my body tenses again as a huge electric shock courses through me, setting every nerve on fire with agony. I can feel my muscles convulse uncontrollably, my screams drown out by the overwhelming onslaught of pain. Time seems to stand still as I writhe against the chair, my world reduced to nothing but searing torment and unrelenting despair. As the shock finally subsides, I lie gasping for air, my body trembling with exhaustion and shock.
- Jeez, horny fuck! Don't you have any control? You're just like all the others. Weak. Inferior. Pathetic. Disposable.
I grit my teeth against the onslaught of humiliation, refusing to let her see how deeply her words affect me. But deep down, I know she's right. In Rachel's presence I am the insect, the beta...
Rachel leans in closer, her breath hot against my ear as she whispers:
- Let the games begin. And trust me, darling: you won't win any prizes. Unless you tell me everything now.
As she pulls away I notice how her eyes start gleaming with a dangerous glint. From a bag she pulls out a huge black dildo. Its size and girth are simply scary. Holy fuck: will she use that on me? My God! When Rachel notices my shock, her smirk morphs into a triumphant grin.
- I did, Rachel! I really did tell you everything. I swear to God.
Her voice drips with anticipation as she brandishes the huge black monster:
- Mmm, let's see if you've truly spilled all your secrets. I usually use this baby to throat-fuck my victims, ramming it deep down their throats. As an appetizer. If they don't talk, I'll continue shoving it up their ass. And if you think your ass is not ready to receive this kind of monster, you are right. Few men take it elegantly, but with a body like mine there is plenty of muscle power to push it in anywhere I want it -- however deep that may be.
I recoil in horror at the thought, my mind racing with fear and desperation.
- I... I'm not lying! O God, please! I went to a beauty parlor to have my ass bleeched and there she was: Denise. Or Elle as she called herself. She released me from my penis-cage and started to tease me. I asked her to stop, but eventually she started jerking me off. Against my will.
Rachel's grin widens at my confession, which sounds pretty lame, I have to admit. It is a panicked confession and she obviously relishes in my vulnerability.
- Do you really think I'd believe such a pathetic excuse? Jerked off against your will? By Denise? Get real, asshole... She's probably the best fuck in the universe: men stand in line just to be noticed by her. Let alone she would notice them and touch them... Or jerk them off. Having Denise jerking you off must be every guy's ultimate sexual fantasy. She handles more dicks a day than you touch yours in a month. So, against your will sounds pretty lame. Like refusing water when you're dying of thirst.
With a menacing glint in her eyes, Rachel raises the massive black phallus, its sheer size and girth as intimidating as the muscle-packed sadist looming over me.
- You wanted to serve me, didn't you? Like the submissive bitch you are.
She hovers the tip of the dildo inches from my quivering lips.
- Well, now's your fucking chance. Open wide and show me just how obedient you can be.
With a mixture of fear and resignation, I comply, reluctantly parting my lips as Rachel presses the dildo against my mouth. I am repulsed, but I know better than to resist. I can only hope that by totally submitting myself to this gorgeous sadist, I will save my life.
With a wicked smirk, she commands:
- Now, suck, M. Rosenberg! Show me how much you want to please me. I want to see just how deep you can take it.
I brace myself for what is to come and open my mouth wider, trembling all over. Rachel teasingly slowly pushes the dildo past my lips. The taste of rubber fills my mouth, making me gag as she pushes it inches further inside. I can feel the pressure building in my throat, threatening to overwhelm me.
- Such a good little bitch.
Rachel coos, her tone mocking and cruel.
- You're going to take it all, aren't you? Every inch of it.
I can barely breathe as the dildo goes deeper into my mouth, stretching me to my limits. Tears sting his eyes as he struggles to hold back the urge to gag, desperate to please Rachel and avoid her wrath.
- Almost there...
Rachel murmurs, her voice low and dangerous. I gag and choke as the dildo presses against the back of my throat, the sensation of being suffocated by its massive bulk sends panic coursing through my veins. I struggle to breathe, to swallow, to do anything to alleviate the suffocating pressure. But Rachel shows no mercy, her grip unyielding as she continues to push the dildo deeper into my throat, her eyes alight with sadistic pleasure. Tears stream down my cheeks as I gasp for air, the overwhelming sensation of being violated and helpless consuming me.
- Enjoying the foreplay so far, M. Rosenberg?
As Rachel pushes the 15 inch dildo deeper into my throat, the level of my panic increases. My gag reflex kicks in, my body convulsing in a desperate attempt to expel the foreign object. The dildo presses against the back of his throat, giving me the feeling that my air supply is cut off. My chest heaves in a desparate attempt to draw in some breath. I realize I am completely at Rachel's mercy, unable to free myself from her grasp. With each agonizing moment, the pressure in my throat intensifies, the sensation of suffocation overwhelming me. Tears stream down my cheeks as she keeps the fuck-toy deep down my throat. It feels like ages before she finally pulls it out again, my chest heaving as I gulp down mouthfuls of precious oxygen, a thick trail of saliva dripping from the corner of my mouth. I am left helpless and degraded.
- OK, M. Rosenberg. Time for Big Red. Unless you start to talk now...
In a haze I am able to see how Rachel picks up a 20 inch red phallus from her bag -- it looks more like a small red rubber baseball bat. My God! She cannot be serious. I lose all my inhibitions to keep up appearances. I break. I openly cry now, tears streaming down my cheeks.
- Please, Rachel. ... ... For the love of God. ... I'll tell you everything. ... Anything... What do you want to hear?
My words trail off into more sobs. Rachel merely smirks. I am prepared to tell her everything. Anything actually, as long as she does not use that red monster on me.
- Jeez, giving in already? That's quick. Now, let's see if you're as good at talking as you are at crying. Because if you don't spill every last detail, this little toy is going to become your worst nightmare. And trust me, you won't enjoy it nearly as much as you did Denise's handiwork. If you lie to me, I'll strap this baby around my waist and impale you on it, like I have done with so many inadequate men. One thrust is usually enough to tear a man's ass apart and having his insides oozing all over the floor. Hahaha! So, think before you talk. Was that your load on Denise's arm?
- Yes.
- What did she do?
- She gave me a prostate handjob.
- Did you know you weren't supposed to cum?
- Yes.
- Why did you have an orgasm then?
- Denise gave me no choice. I asked her to stop, but she just continued jacking me off.
- Did you like it?
- Yes. I passed away from the extreme arousal. Never experienced anything like that before. Just like the sex with Aletta. It is sex from another dimension.
Rachel chuckles at my admission, relishing in my vulnerability.
- So, you enjoyed it, hmm? Aletta won't be pleased to hear that her little plaything was getting off with someone else. You're lucky she hasn't torn you limb from limb already.
My heart sinks at the thought of Aletta's wrath, knowing that I am already in deep trouble.
- And how do you feel about this whole situation?
I shrink under her piercing stare, feeling the weight of my betrayal bearing down on me. I hear my voice stammer, barely above a whisper.
- I... I feel terrible about it. I never felt so bad about something so good. I know I messed up, Rachel. I know I deserve whatever punishment Aletta has in store for me.
Rachel's lips curl into a cruel smile, her eyes glittering with sadistic amusement.
- Mmm, good to hear you're still able to produce witty talk, M. Rosenberg. I like that in a man. You're in no position however, to determine if you are deserving. Men determine nothing. Not even -- or better: especially not -- their punishment! I call the shots, got that?
I nod silently, not wanting to cause any more anger.
- The thing is that I have been asked to do things to you that I have been doing professionally for years. Things I have developed, trained, perfected in the more than hundred companies I worked for as a high-end, corporate troubleshooter. As a productivity consultant, as I call it. An obedience manager. I never fail getting men in line, in getting the best out of the employees. Wherever I come, productivity skyrockets. Work weeks of 80 or 90 hours become the norm. Working overtime becomes standard. Wages are cut, usually in half. Voluntarily. Without complaints.
Holy fuck! What is this all about? These women are simply ruthless. This Rachel is a bomb.
- Well, let me tell you, M. Rosenberg. Some do complain, but imagine me entering a big landscape office with some twenty men busy at work. I am all pumped-up after a gruelling work-out, dressed in a sleek black leather corset hugging my sculpted torso and emphasizing the swell of my ample chest, matching hotpants clinging to my ballooning glutes leaving little to the imagination and these commanding knee-high, stiletto-heeled platform boots. I am shiny with oil and sweat. And imagine me picking out one of the complainers and ordering him to strip naked. Everything about my look is intimidating -- from the leather gloves that extend to my elbows to the dark smoky eyeshadow and bold red lipstick. Everything is meant to instill fear and submission. My domme look leaves no doubt that I am in charge. So, however strange the order, he complies. He hesitates somewhat when he has to remove his trunks. I notice the familiar bulge in his pants and I start operation humiliation: "Is your tiny worm getting hard? You like my dominance, don't you? Strip, I tell ya!" As he is standing there naked with a raging boner, he is embarrassed, just like everyone around him. Just the way I like it. His flabby, weak and unimpressive physique is exposed next to my rippling, sculpted muscles in dominatrix outfit. His posture lacks confidence, he breathes vulnerability. He is astutely aware of his physical inferiority. "Is that all you've got? Jeez, that's not a cock, that's a shrimp. And it is erect! Let me help you with your pathetic little cock. I'll show you what happens to those who complain or who fail to live up to my expectations. You're nothing!" And then I kick him in the groin. Hard. Powerful. See, M. Rosenberg, the tips of my platform boots are reinforced with steel. You know what that means, don't you?
I nod. I am totally shocked.
- So, you can imagine that the impact of my boot is devastating: he collapses to the ground, clutching his injured area and gasping for air. He is writhing in pain, groaning, unable to form coherent words. Blood is wetting his trembling fingers. His balls must be somewhere up his throat! "Next time, think twice before you challenge someone like me." Everybody is shocked by the extreme violence, and rightly so. The next few hours I pay a visit to every landscape office in the company and introduce all employees to the importance of obedience, compliance, and submission, always setting a clear example, showing my modus operandi. I always try to refrain from doing too much damage on the first day at the office. That saves my cleaning and legal teams the work of having to cover it all up. That day I only kicked 16 guys to death. Most men are quick learners. Some need some extra work. So, me and my team remain in a company for a week, setting examples, giving incentives, basically getting men in line using sexual humiliation and violence. You should see the dynamics when I jerk someone off in front of his colleagues. Or fistfuck him. Or break all his fingers. One by one. Slowly. Making sure everybody hears the nasty sounds of cracking bones and tearing ligaments. And the accompanying screams of pain and horror, the desparate pleas for mercy. And my mocking laughter. If I am in a forgiving mood, I stop with the fingers. If I am in a bad mood or if the emlpoyee really annoys me, I break every fucking bone in his body! Can you imagine how that affects the productivity of the others?
For the love of God, I wish I would wake up out of this nightmare. This woman is simply crazy.
- So, here's what I'm going to do: I am going to push Big Red down your throat -- well, it'll go as deep as your guts! And then I'll fix this nice little strap, which is attached to Big Red, behind the back of your head and close the belt buckle making sure it stays deep into your throat. If you're lucky, I'll return after an hour. The slightest comment from your side adds another hour. Got that?
I nod. It is not the moment to bring up the fact that I am supposed to have a meeting with Aletta and that I don't want to be late. I can only pray to God that I will survive this encounter. As Rachel leans over me, I cannot help to notice how her powerful muscles ripple beneath the sleek fabric of her tight black top, the definition of her arms and shoulders is accentuated by the dim light of the room. Each movement causes a symphony of sinewy muscle mass to flex and shift. The veins in her arms stand out in stark relief, coursing with raw power as she holds the massive red phallus. And then she plunges Big Red into my mouth, the massive dildo stretching my jaws to their limits as she forces it down my throat. I gag and choke, my body convulses in a desperate attempt to expel the intruding object again.
- Come on now, M. Rosenberg, surely you can do better than this. Hahaha!
The sensation of being forcibly penetrated by the object triggers a desperate reflex, but Rachel's iron grip leave me utterly helpless. With agonizing slowness, Rachel pushes the phallus deeper into my mouth, each inch of progress is met with a wave of gagging and retching as my throat struggles to accommodate the massive intrusion. Her muscles tense with controlled strength, her biceps bulging majestically as she exerts pressure against my resistance.
- Having trouble, little worm?
My whole body rebels against the violation, I gag continuously and I start to vomit, the taste of rubber mingling with the bitter tang of bile. Tears stream down my cheeks as I gasp for air, the sensation of suffocation becoming overwhelming with each moment passing. My body heaves with effort and I struggle to catch my breath, but Rachel shows no mercy, her grip unyielding as she continues to push the phallus deeper and deeper, her muscles flexing with relentless determination. The pressure in my throat builds to a fever pitch, driving me to the brink of panic. I choke and sputter, my body writhing and convulsing in agony, but it is futile. Rachel's strength is overpowering, her dominance absolute as she pushes me past any form of submission. I am beyond submission.
- Having trouble taking it all, hmm?
Her sexy voice drips with mockery.
- I thought you were supposed to be a tough guy, but it looks like you're just a pathetic little toy for me to play with. And toys break, don't they?
I want to scream, to beg for mercy, but all that escapes my lips are muffled gurgles as the phallus presses against the back of my throat. My muscles strain against the bonds that hold me captive. The sheer size of Big Red threatens to crush me from within. I struggle to breathe, to swallow, to do anything to alleviate the overwhelming sensation of having this monstrous phallus inside my throat. And then, just when I think I cannot take it anymore, Rachel secures the strap behind my head, locking Big Red in place and sealing my fate. The belt buckle clicks shut with a finality that sends a shiver down my spine, leaving me trapped and helpless. I gag and I gurgle. This is hell. A minute seems like an eternity.
- Bye, M. Rosenberg. I am going to relax in the jacuzzi, surrounded by men who would die to give me a good time. They probably will. Hehe.
I hear Rachel's departing footsteps, the sound of her confident stride fading into the distance.
