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Archive name (8.3): orgasm11.txt
Title: Orgasm at Eleven
A.S.S. Code: {M}/F-BD
Author: Gamma
Notes:
************************ {Beginning of original archive}***********************
From dwill@aei.ca Sat Mar 08 05:09:34 1997
I am re-posting this as a service to all who read these groups for the
stories. If you have downloaded some stories, take the time to upload
them so that others who may not have seen them, can enjoy them. As I
did not write this story, please do not flame me if it does not suit
your tastes, it really will not do any good.
WARNING: The following post contains descriptions of an adult, sexual
nature that includes descriptions of bondage and discipline and sexual
torment. These are meant merely as fantasies. This material should not
be read by minors, nor offered for reading or viewing to anyone under
the age of 21. You have been warned. If this sort of materials is
offensive to you, please read no further.
ORGASM AT ELEVEN
by Gamma
The beautiful TV reporter walked slowly down the dark, abandonned
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 tastey morsel in front of her. An
irresistable 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, heresay 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 celebraty 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 origianl 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 marvelled 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. "Annnnybody 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
spreadeagled 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-spred 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 tightenedthe 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 fanatsies, spread, naked, whipped and coming in her
bondage. Her hips humped the dildo, her head shook, her eyes closed
tightly, her breats 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 revenege. It would 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! * * *