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THE PLUCKED DUCK 6-10 by Joy Paine
NC, MF, FF, anal, humiliation, slavery, voyeurism, torture, maybe more
This is another story in which no intentional similarity is intended to
any actual person, living or
dead. Again, remember that your imagination often will shape the details.
For instance, does the
victim enjoy her fate, even unwillingly? Only you can tell.
The Plucked Duck
by Joy Paine
Index words: torturer# the game# whip# forced to strip#
chapter 6 The Game
torturer#
The man was big, and powerful, but beginning to run to fat.
The corset-like garment about his waist showed that he was
conscious of the price his body was paying for years of
dissolution, and that he was subordinating comfort to vanity.
Most of his costume, like the corset, was a shiny
black -- black shorts, black boots, and black leather gloves. The
cape that hung flamboyantly from his shoulders was black and
scarlet. Otherwise, he was naked.
Except for the mask.
It was either black satin or shiny leather, and it quite
effectively hid his identity, at the same time adding to the
demonic atmosphere that surrounded him.
A broad strap of leather hung loosely in his hand -- probably
the very same strap that he had used to chastise Alice's
breasts Cathy thought.
She turned to Alice, who was aiming the movie camera in her
direction. "What is this?" she thundered.
Tried to thunder, that is. Her voice almost broke, and
sounded more like a whimper.
"Just like I told you, baby. The man asked me to introduce
you to him, under these 'special' circumstances."
"But -- but -- surely this is some kind of a joke. Isn't it?"
"No joke, honey. Or rather, the joke's on you, I'm afraid."
"But how could you do something like this to me?" Cathy
wasn't sure what "this" was going to be, but she had seen enough
to know that she didn't like it. Especially after Alice's story
of her rape.
"Like I told you, honey, the man made me an offer I couldn't
refuse. You'll understand later. Look, kid," she went on in a
softer voice. "I'm sorry -- awfully sorry -- that you're going to
suffer a bit of unpleasantness, but it makes a huge difference
to me. As I say, you'll understand later.
"Ready!" she called to the man as she started the camera.
Cathy whirled to face the new threat, half crouched into a
defensive posture. The man leered at her through the eye-slits
in the mask.
the game#
"Well now, baby. I'm glad to see that you're impressed.
We're going to play a little game, sweetie. A nice little game. One
that's very easy to learn.
"We take turns," he went on. "You get the first move. After all,
ladies first." He gave a little bow of mock gallantry.
"And you do something that you think I'll like. Anything at all.
Use your imagination, or that famous woman's intuition that you
always read about.
"If you guess right, and I do like it, you get another turn.
If I don't like it, or if you don't take your turn quickly
enough, it's my move. And I do something that you won't like.
Then it's your turn again. Very neat, very simple. Of course, I
cheat once in a while, and take a move even when it isn't my
turn, just to be mean. But that's the way it goes -- I make the
rules, I can break the rules.
"Got it? ready, set, GO!"
Cathy forced herself into a posture of bravado. "I won't play
your stupid game," she said defiantly. "You can't do this to me."
The man laughed. "I don't like lies, especially foolish ones.
Obviously, I can do this to you, since I am doing it. My move!"
whip#
His hand swung the strap in a short vicious arc, slashing
Cathy's hip. She yelped in pain.
"Good!" the man called. "I love the way you jiggle when you
jump. And that pathetic tone in your voice just sends me up the
wall. It's your turn again."
"Please --" Cathy began.
"Sorry -- I don't want you to beg just yet." The lash cut across
Cathy's breasts.
Cathy doubled over in pain, trying to curl herself up into a
ball. The lash bit into her face. She moved her hands to protect
her head, and received another stroke across her breasts.
"Please", she sobbed. "Tell me what you want, and I'll do it.
I'll do anything, but tell me!"
The man chuckled, a bit out of breath from the exertion.
"That's better, sweetie. OK, stand up and let's talk it over."
Cathy managed to struggle painfully to her feet, stood before
him, sobbing. The top two buttons had torn off her blouse, and
the man's eyes fastened greedily on her firm young cleavage.
"It's your turn, baby," he prodded.
forced to strip#
"But -- but what do you want me to do?"
The man's eyes never left her decolletage. "I think that
you're woman enough to know what I want, sweetie." His hand made
his meaning clear by reaching for the front of her blouse,
slowly unfastening the one remaining button. It was fully
apparent that Cathy was not wearing a bra.
She shrank from his lecherous gaze, gathered the edges of
her blouse together with her hands.
"Please don't," she whimpered.
"Take it off, baby."
He didn't raise his voice by a single decibel, but the strap
slashed into her soft young body again. Cathy squealed in agony.
Another blow, and another. And another . . .
Finally, Cathy couldn't take it any longer. Slowly,
reluctantly, she slipped her arms out of the sleeves of her
blouse, let the garment fall to the floor. She stood there with
her head hanging dejectedly, trying to hide her nudity with her
hands.
"All right," her tormentor continued. "Let's see a little
respect. Stand at attention, with your hands at your sides, and
let's see what you've got." He emphasized the command with
another blow, all the more painful now that she had lost the
protection of her blouse.
Her spirit broken for the moment, Cathy let her hands fall
to her sides, and held her shoulders back. The man gave a low
whistle.
"What a pair of knockers!" he breathed reverently. "They're
so great that I just might not pin the tassels on for a
while."
Thank God for small favors, Cathy thought. Then her torturer
spoke again.
"OK, baby. Now let's get the rest off."
Slowly, painfully, and goaded by an occasional blow from the
strap, Cathy took off her sandals, and stepped out of her
shorts. Finally, she peeled off her panties.
chapter 7 The Bargain
good words: threat of rape# rape: oral/anal# pins#
threat of rape#
The man made Cathy stand at attention for a long time, while
he looked her over, enjoying her embarrassment even more than
the nudity of her nicely rounded body. Then his hands . . .
Finally, he seized Cathy's ankle, threw her painfully to the
floor. "OK, baby. Now to make a woman of you."
Cathy moaned as his rough hands probed the area between her
thighs. "Please," she sobbed. "Nobody's ever done that to me."
The man chuckled happily. "Virgin, eh? Honey, this is going
to be even better than I expected." He forced her legs farther
apart.
"Wait!" Alice unexpectedly grabbed the man's shoulders and
dragged him away. He whirled on her, backhanding her viciously
across the breasts. "Get back to the camera, bitch, where you
belong. I'll take care of you later," he added ominously.
Alice huddled in a heap, her arms cradling her aching
bosom. "No," she said determinedly. "If Cathy is a virgin, that
changes the whole situation. So help me God, I'm not going to
let you break her cherry, the way you broke mine."
The man stood up, approached Alice menacingly, while Cathy
lay in a heap, whimpering. "Damn right," he snarled. "I fucked
you once, and I'll fuck you again. Right now, if it's all right
with you. I guess I have enough endurance to take you both on,"
he grinned.
Alice paled. "Wait -- " she protested. "You're forgetting that
you need me to do this right. You want pictures, don't you?
Well, you won't get a single frame -- in fact, I'll open the
camera and spoil the footage we've got so far." Her hand went
to the catch on the camera. "Unless you promise not to deflower
her."
The man though for a moment. The his face contorted into
an evil grin. "OK," he said. "Suppose we make a deal. I'll
leave her cherry, on a couple of conditions.
"First," he ticked off on his fingers, "you take the
pictures like we agreed." Alice nodded.
"Second, I fuck you instead of her."
Alice gasped in dismay. "No -- no --" she faltered. "I couldn't
do that."
"I thought not," the man gloated. "Sure you'd like to keep
her for yourself, but there's a limit to the price you're
willing to pay.
"OK, I've got one other alternative. My last offer." He turned
to Cathy.
rape: oral/anal#
"You may not know it, cunt, but there's more than one way a
broad can satisfy a man. You do what I want -- everything that I
want -- and I'll have just as much fun, and you can keep your
precious maidenhead. Until our next meeting, at least," he
chuckled.
Alice moaned. "Oh no . . ." she protested weakly.
"You'd rather do it for me yourself?" the man grinned at her.
"No, I thought not," he went on, reading the answer in her face.
"So, little girl," he turned to Cathy, "we'll use your other
holes, and you can keep your cherry."
Cathy began to understand what he had in mind. She felt sick,
but she managed to choke down the lump in her throat. Degrading
though his suggestions were, she told herself, there would be
less permanent damage, including the risk of pregnancy, if she
submitted to his perversions.
She nodded weakly, unable to speak.
pins#
The man leered. "OK, baby, but I warn you -- the party's really
going to be rough. First of all, we'll pin these little tassels
on you, to help you to remember our bargain.' Cathy screamed as
he drove the points into her breasts. "And this little bow on
your cunt will bean even more intimate reminder." She screamed again
at the new agony.
"And now here's what you can do to keep me out of your twat."
The camera whirred on into the long afternoon. . .
chapter 8 After
good words: forced lesbianism#
After an eternity of pain and humiliation, her torturer left,
first helping Alice to carry Cathy's slumped body up to the
bedroom. He turned menacingly as he left the room. "I
owe you one for this, bitch," he snarled, squeezing her left
breast until she screamed. "Too bad that little Cathy wore me
out. Otherwise, I'd teach you a lesson right now."
Then he stalked out. They heard him venting his rage by
roaring down the driveway in low gear.
forced lesbianism#
Cathy summoned all her remaining strength, reached
laboriously to pull out one of the tassels that were tormenting
her breasts. Alice grabbed her wrist, easily overpowering her.
"Not yet, honey," she chided. "They look cute on you."
Cathy grimaced in pain. "But they hurt!" she protested.
"I remember," Alice said, a vindictive note in her voice.
"Sure they hurt," she grinned impishly. "Especially when I do
this. Or this." Cathy screamed in new agony as the girl's
fingers manipulated the pins. Alice smiled exultantly, revelling
in the younger girl's pain.
With difficulty, Cathy found her voice again. "But why are
you doing this to me? And why did you deliver me to that sadist
in the first place?"
Alice smiled pensively. "The inducement, honey. Or rather,
two inducements. The carrot and the stick. First, he would have
raped me again if I hadn't set you up for him.
"And the second reason is that I love you."
Cathy suddenly sat upright, screamed again as the motion
shook her breasts. "Love?" she screamed. :You call it love that
will make you let me be treated like this?"
Alice's smile took on a hint of sadness. "I'm afraid that
you'd never accept my kind of love any other way."
Cathy's eyes flashed in sudden angry realization. "And I'll
be damned if I'll accept your so-called 'love' now, you -- you
dyke!"
Alice fondly patted the bow at Cathy's crotch, sending new
agony through her soft young body. "Beautiful, honey," the older
girl gloated. "It's going to be all the sweeter with you feeling
that way. The prize is always more satisfying if it is preceded
by a chase. I think," she mused, "if I had been a man. I would
have been a rapist, like my stepfather.
"And our love affair is going to last a long, long time,
too," she continued. "Just as long as I have those pictures we
took."
Cathy's heart sank as she remembered the movie camera. Alice
could see that she understood. "That was the second inducement,
sweetie. I get prints of stills from the movie, and permission
to send them to your parents, or show them around school, or
anything that I want, if you don't co-operate. Oh, and one other
part of the deal. After each time we make love, you're to write
a little note to me -- hand-written, of course -- thanking me for
the fun, and telling in every detail what you did for me. And
what I did to you.
"I'm to send the notes to my step-father. I don't know what he plans
to do with them, but he'll probably get a big kick out of showing them
around -- along with the pictures -- to some of the Dirty Old Men
that he knows."
Alice had been undressing as she spoke, and was now as
naked as Cathy. "But we won't need the threat of the pictures
tonight," she went on. "He left his strap for me . . ."
Later -- much later -- Alice plucked out the pins that had been
tormenting Cathy, and rubbed on a soothing ointment. She took
her time with the rubbing, enjoying the feeling of ownership it
gave her to touch Cathy in those intimate places. "Don't worry,
sweetie," she crooned. "We won't need those nasty prickers every
time. Just for special occasions -- maybe about three times out of
five."
chapter 9 Jack
good words: voyeur# watching a rape#
The police were as good as their word. They woke Jack early
in the morning, let him shower and shave, and offered him
breakfast, which he declined. Giving him back his personal
effects, they turned him loose without any record of the fact
that he had been their reluctant guest for the night. As he left
the station, they gave him a copy of the morning newspaper.
It was the sensationalist rag put out by the Boss's party,
Jack noticed, but he let his eye run over the front page
anyway. He froze as the banner headline caught his attention.
"CRUSADING EDITOR'S WIFE JAILED!" it screamed at him. Other
phrases leaped out of the paper as he scanned the article:
"arrested after wild party . . .found naked, in narcotic
stupor . . . husband's whereabouts unknown . . .'
The story told in lurid detail how the police had answered
the complaint of an anonymous neighbor, had seen several men
fleeing from the house as they approached, and had found
evidences of wild revelry and sexual excess. A reporter and
photographer had "just happened" to be at the station when the
call had come in, and had hurried over to document the incident.
Jack suddenly realized that his arrest had been part of a plot
to keep him from interfering while the Boss's minions were
fabricating evidence to discredit him in the eyes of the
community's decent citizens. And Dorothy! What had happened to
her? And where was she now?
Jack had no doubt where to go to find out. Not trusting
himself to drive in his present mood, he hailed a passing
taxi, and told the driver to take him to the Seraglio Club. The
cabby was obviously amused at the idea of anyone going there at
this hour, but his first humorous essay brought such a vehement
response that he drove the rest of the way in silence.
The ex-wrestler who answered Jack's ring was not surprised to
see him -- obviously, the Boss had anticipated Jack's visit. "Come
on in, buddy," the doorman said, with a bluff familiarity that
revealed undertones of contempt. The Boss will be glad to see
you." As they walked through the empty club, they were joined by
another employee, almost as huge a man as the first. Jack felt
just a touch of fear, but his rage and his concern for Dorothy
kept it at bay.
voyeur#
The goons frisked Jack before they took him through the door
that opened into the Boss's sumptuous office, held him by the
arms as they walked across the expensive carpet to where the
Boss sat. Some of the draperies that hung from the walls had
been pulled aside, to reveal a two-way mirror into which the
Boss was gazing intently. On the other side of the mirror, a
couple of show girls were getting out of their costumes after the
night's last show.
"Now see here . . ." Jack began, but was silenced by a hand over
his mouth. The Boss spoke without taking his eyes from the
mirror.
"Keep Lover Boy quiet for a moment," he ordered. "You'd think
that he would have learned better manners, what with all the
high-class people he goes around with."
Easily overcoming Jack's struggles, the two men dragged him
across the room, handcuffed him to a couple of rings fastened in
the wall. A rough gag silenced his protests. And there he
perforce waited until the Boss had finished his voyeuristic
adventure, taking pictures from time to time. As he regretfully
watched the last girl finish covering herself, the Boss beckoned
to one of the men.
"I think I'd like to have a roll with that redhead, one of
these days," he drooled. "Not quite yet -- I'll be busy for
a while breaking Angel Face -- but start setting her up, will you?"
The tough nodded. The the Boss waved to Jack, who had given up
struggling, his self control belying the turmoil that
seethed within him. "OK", the Boss said. "Take off the gag, and
let's see if Lover Boy has learned some manners."
The adhesive tape hurt when the thug tore it off, but Jack
swallowed the epithet that sprang to his lips. Losing his temper
would do no good -- better to keep his cool.
The Boss bowed with mock courtesy. "And what can I do for you,
O Fearless Editor?"
"Please," Jack said. I'd like to see my wife." Might as
well try to be polite. It might make some difference.
"Yes," the Boss said thoughtfully. "From that naked picture
in the paper, I'd judge that she's the kind of cunt a man would
like to see. In fact, I'd kind of like to see her myself.
"But why bother me about it? Apparently she's spending some time
with the police because of some -- ah -- indiscretions she committed
while your back was turned."
Jack fought down his anger. "Look -- everyone knows that the
police do what you tell them to."
"Ah, yes." The Boss rubbed his hands together. "Within limits,
within limits. Yes, perhaps I can arrange for you to see the
lovely Dorothy. But you might enjoy the experience more after
a mild stimulant."
At his nod, one of the men seized Jack's arm, and cut away
his sleeve. Unable to defend himself, Jack felt the hypodermic
needle pierce his vein, felt a strange warmth flow through his
body as the fluid mixed with his blood.
The Boss smiled. "Completely non-addictive -- at least in the
chemical sense. But its effect is so pleasant that it could
easily be habit-forming. A rather powerful aphrodisiac, in fact.
I don't usually give it to men, though," he added.
watching a rape#
"And now, as you wished, a view of your lovely wife."
The lights dimmed, and a motion picture projector started to
whir. On the wall across from Jack, an image of Dorothy
appeared, shackled to a strange framework of tubes, in the
shambles of what had been her living room. The audio swelled up,
amplifying the sound of her tearing panties.
Jack struggled helplessly against his bonds as the gang rape
proceeded, and he saw his wife brutalized and broken. But
somewhere, beneath his consciousness, the aphrodisiac was taking
effect, and he felt his body unwillingly responding to the
sexual degradation that Dorothy was suffering -- felt a strange
compulsion to join the men who were abusing her.
He was fully -- and visibly -- aroused by the time the film had
finished. His mind reeled with conflicting emotions.
The Boss made a coarse joke about Jack's obviously aroused
condition, then ordered the men to cut Jack's clothes off.
"After all, if our crusading editor is feeling like that, we
might as well help him to have a good time," he taunted. "OK",
he said to one of is men, "bring in Angel Face. And tell Big
Elsie that we're ready for her."
chapter 10 Job seeker
good words: (none)
Cathy didn't see the newspaper report of her mother's arrest,
and none of her friends called it to her attention, if indeed
they noticed it. So she went on being Alice's love slave as if
nothing had happened.
Until the second article. This time, the newspaper article
was mailed to Cathy, under cover of an anonymous letter.
"EDITOR AND WIFE DIE IN AUTO MISHAP", the headlines read.
"Bodies burned beyond recognition . . . driver may have been
drunk . . ." And the article went on to describe the "orgy"
for which Dorothy had recently been arrested, drawing the
obvious lessons of human frailty and hypocrisy.
The typewritten letter was very sympathetic, hinting that foul
play had been involved, that this was obviously the work of the
evil Boss, proprietor of the infamous Seraglio Club.
Cathy hastily threw her clothes into a suitcase, and left in a
hurry, not even waiting to say good-bye to Alice. She got a
moment of perverse satisfaction as she realized that this was
Friday, the night that Alice usually counted on for a particularly
torrid love session.
She didn't have any idea what she could do, but knew that her parents'
deaths must be avenged somehow. There would be time later for mourning.
Now it was time for action.
The Boss did not know her, Cathy told herself. Surely a
good-looking girl like her could get a job at the Seraglio. And
even if she couldn't find a way to prove that the Boss was
responsible for her parents' deaths, perhaps she could manage to
avenge them.
--
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