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From: Crimson Dragon <dcrimson@yahoo.com>
Subject: Time Out Of Time (Chapter 51) [Mf, MFf, bd, exh, sm, inc, nc]
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This story is full of all sorts of perverse and unlikely things. It
includes
all sorts of bizarre things, which happen to turn some people on. Things
like bondage, non-consentual sex, exhibitionism, and even incest. Minors
need not apply. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. Delete from
incoming box.
(Like you'll listen if you're a minor... but at least you've been
warned).

If this kind of writing causes you discomfort, if it bothers you or is
even
likely to bother you, please don't read it. Consider yourself warned.
If you
read it despite all these warnings and are offended, what the heck are
you
doing? Give yourself a shake.

I guess I should point out that this story is fictional. I have never
figured out time travel and if I did, I suspect I wouldn't misuse the
privilege nor would I engage in non-consentual sex or incest under any 
circumstances nor would I counsel anyone else to do so. These are bad
things. <Does this really need saying? Isn't this common sense? Hello?>
Any resemblance to persons living or dead are purely coincidental.

Also, let's be clear about this. Archiving of the story is OK. But
charging
money for it (including charging for access to any archived copies)
isn't cool.
This work is copyrighted by the author subject to the above stated
conditions.

This is a work in progress. I will continue posting it as long as
there is
interest (both yours and mine). Any comments, good or bad, are welcome.
Suggestions for the storyline are also welcome.

If you are still with me, read on and please enjoy.

- crimson


[ Chapter 51 - Time Out Of Time ]
By Crimson Dragon (dcrimson@yahoo.com)

Amy was glaring at me defiantly. This petite woman. In panties and a
sweater.
Still barefoot. I felt like I was a lover having a break up fight. I
almost
laughed at the absurdity.

Seeing that I wasn't going to get anywhere with her, I concentrated
and slipped
her into a slow time bubble. She was about to open her mouth to say
something,
probably hurling more abuse at me. But that never happened as she
semi-froze 
in position. I wandered out to the living area. Glanced in on the
other girls. 
They were still seated, trying to eat as slowly and as silently as
they could. 
Like guests listening to the hosts during the party fight. Wanting to
be 
anywhere but here. But not able to go anywhere else.

I picked back up the gun from the living room. Along with some rope,
some
handcuffs, drill from the hardware bag, and an eyebolt. I carried the
equipment
back to the bedroom and dumped it on the dressing table. Amy was still
standing
in her sweater and panties in the middle of the room. Anger still
showing on 
her frozen face.

I wandered back to the doorway and leaned on the jamb. I returned Amy
to our
timeline.

She began right away. Probably still spouting whatever was on her mind
when
I slowed her down.

"You goddamn bastard. I hate you. Leave me alone." Then seeing that
some things
had changed. I suddenly had a gun. Eyes flicked to the restraints on
the table.

"Amy."

"Fuck you. You ain't tying me up again. I won't let you. You fucking
bastard."
She was really venting. She made a move to get her jeans which were
lying on
the bed.

"Amy. Stop."

She hesitated and looked at me. Still defiant. Shifting her weight
from one
bare foot to the other.

"You are going to have to shoot me, you know."

"Amy. Don't kid yourself. I will shoot you. But I don't have to."

"I'm not stopping. You are either going to have to undo whatever the
hell it
is that you've done to the world. Or you are going to have to shoot
me. Or 
I'm going to walk out of here. Fuck you. I'm going to finish dressing
like
a human being and I'm gone. Got it?"

"Listen to me, Amy." She stopped reaching for her jeans. Perhaps
something in
my calm tone. "You don't want to do this. Take off the clothes and
allow me
to punish you and it won't be as bad."

"Haven't you been fucking listening to me? You have trouble hearing?"

"Amy."

"Shoot me if you have to. I don't care." I watched as she picked up
the jeans.
She honestly didn't care if I shot her.

"Amy. Listen. If I shoot you, it is going to hurt. If I shoot you, it
will be
in a very uncomfortable way. There are no hospitals. No doctors.
You'll die,
but it will take days. In agony. I'm not going to shoot you in the
head. Or
the heart. Knees. Elbows. Arms. Legs. Breasts."

She paled a bit, but bent down and began to slip the jeans onto her
right leg.
She'd passed the point of no return. She was gambling everything that I
wouldn't shoot her.

"Fuck you."

"But I'm not going to shoot you, Amy. I really don't want to
incapacitate 
such a beautiful body. If I wanted to kill you, I'd torture you to
death. 
Enjoying your screams until you couldn't scream anymore. But I'm not
going 
to do that either. You'll scream, but you'll survive."

Amy was crying by this point, but she slipped the jeans onto her other
leg
and began to pull them up.

"Goddammit. Why do you have to do these things to us? We're people,
you know?
Human beings? How can you be such a monster? How can you hurt us so
casually?
We hurt, you know? Pain? You remember pain? When you fell out of the
tree
when you were a kid? Broke your arm? Imagine that, but a hundred times
worse.
Some asshole whipping you, while you're helpless. Tied up. Shit. I
hate you.
I can't take it anymore."

She pulled the jeans over her hips. She was about to do them up. The
first
time she'd had clothing in days. The clothes were actually attractive
on her.

"Amy. Listen to me. You can leave. I'm not even going to stop you. But
I want you to know something, if you do."

"What's that, you fuckhead?" Her fingers struggling with the top
button of
the jeans.

"Whereas I really don't want to seriously damage your body, I don't
have the
same problem damaging a male body." I waved the gun for emphasis.

"Oh my God. You son-of-a-bitch. You wouldn't."

"Care to try me?"

The fight just melted out of her body. I watched it happen. She knew
she was 
beaten. Her father, frozen outside the room. Safe for the moment. She 
couldn't risk it. I watched as her face just collapsed. The anger. The 
frustration. The humiliation. All replaced by fear. She knew that she
was
in for a punishment to end all punishment. And she was afraid. Now she 
couldn't just walk out. Her father would suffer for her determination.

"Oh God. I'm sorry." She whispered. Her fingers fumbled with the jeans
and
she slid them back down her long legs. She was weeping, her whole body
wracked
by sobs. Her whole body showing me her defeat. She stepped out of the
jeans,
leaving them on the floor. She began to pull the sweater over her head.

"Amy. Stop." She turned her head. Still crying her eyes out. But
didn't quite
get the sweater over her head.

"Please. Oh God. What are you going to do with me? Please don't hurt
me."

"Amy, this is simple. Stop crying."

I let her struggle with it. Standing there. Barefoot. Bare legs.
Sweater.
Panties. Finally after three or four minutes she calmed herself. Tears
still
fell, but the body shaking sobs reduced. She opened her eyes.

"Do you know how to use a drill?"

"Oh God. What are you going to do with me?"

"Amy?"

She just shook her head. I didn't think that she would know how to use
one.
I haven't met many women that could use any power tools. But it was
worth
a shot. Would have added to the humiliation making her help set up her
punishment.

"Alright. Calm down. Sit in the chair."

"Please don't hurt me. Oh God. Don't you want the rest of my clothes
off?"

"Not yet. Just sit down." She walked over to the chair and sat down.

"Please. God. This isn't happening. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

I crouched behind the chair. "Wrists."

"Oh God. Please. Don't tie me up. God. What are you going to do?" She
was
almost hysterical, imagining what I was going to do with her. She
placed her
wrists behind the chair.

I wrapped her wrists in rope, tightly and tied it off to the rung
between the
chair legs. I clinched her elbows, bringing them as close as I could.
She
cried out, but didn't complain. Her breasts thrust forward beneath the
sweater. She didn't complain because she knew that she was in for a
painful 
time anyway. And complaining wasn't going to help her cause. I wrapped
rope 
above and below her breasts, holding her back into the chair. Further 
emphasizing her breasts that until really recently were completely bare.

I then moved in front of the chair and crouched down, looking into her
tear
stained face. She looked back at me for a second and lowered her eyes.

"Please. Th-th-this sl-slave is so sorry. Please have mercy on her. Oh
God.
What are you going to do to me?"

"What happened?"

"Oh God. I. Th-this slave just snapped. God. I'm so sorry. I just
couldn't
take it anymore. I had to be free. You. I. You have no idea what its
like
to be naked and humiliated twenty-four hours a day. I just needed a
break.
God. Please. Please understand." The words tumbled from her mouth. A
curious
mixture of slave and normal talk. Fear very evident in the shake of her
voice.

"Amy. I understand. But you have to understand that I can't let you get
away with it, either."

"Oh God. Please don't hurt me." She was pulling at the ropes that held
her
body to the chair.

I ignored her and climbed up on another chair. I used the drill to
make a
small hole in the concrete of the ceiling. Using a lead anchor, I
threaded
the eyebolt into the ceiling. It would take a lot of weight. Amy
watched all
these preparations in dread. Tears still streaming down her face.
Begging
pitifully.

I wandered back out into the living room and gathered up a few other
odds
and ends. A couple of very short dowels, some wing nuts. I returned to
the 
room. Amy was calmer. I picked up the drill and made a couple of holes
in
the wood. Threaded them together with the wing nuts and bolts. Amy
watched
all this in eerie fascination.

I knelt in front of her and touched her ankles. She had been sitting
with her
legs slightly apart. Probably trying to do what she thought I wanted
at this
point. She looked a bit confused, but she brought her legs together. I
wrapped
rope around her ankles, clinching it tightly, making her cry out
again. I
tied off the rope and she sat quietly. Bound.

"Please, master. God. This slave is sorry. She'll do anything you
want. Please
don't hit her. Don't hurt her. You don't have to hurt her."

Slave talk wasn't going to help her this time.

"Have you learned your lesson?"

"Oh God. Yes. Please. I've learned."

"What have you learned."

"Not to talk back. There is no escape. Oh God. Whatever you want me to
learn."

"Not good enough. I'll tell you what you've learned. Or will learn.
There is
no escape. Until I get tired of you. And getting angry at me, is not a
problem. But getting dressed without permission is not acceptable. Nor
is
screaming at me. Rebellion will only be tolerated to an extent. You went
far too far this time. I don't mind feisty women. But that kind of
behaviour
frightens everyone. No good."

She gulped. "Yes. Master. Your slave is sorry. She won't let it happen
again."

"I intend to ensure that it doesn't happen again."

"Please. What are you going to do to me?"

"Names." I suddenly changed direction. Wanting to keep her off balance 
mentally.

Confusion. "Pardon me?"

"You were calling me names. You remember what they were?"

"Oh God. I was angry. I didn't mean ..."

"I don't mind being called names. I'd be surprised if you didn't call me
names. I almost expect it. What were they?"

"Oh God. Please. You'll get angry. I don't remember."

"A bastard?" She nodded. "What else?"

"Oh God. I don't remember I was angry. Hurt."

"Amy."

"Christ. I think I called you a son of a bitch. Please don't make me
do this."

"What else?"

"F-fucker. I think."

"And a good deal more, eh?" She nodded. Miserable. "Is this kind of
language
the kind a lady should use?" She swallowed. Not knowing the right
answer. She
nodded. Guessing. Wrong answer. "A lady wouldn't use that kind of
language. At 
all. Much as you think I treat you like animals, I expect my females
to act 
like ladies. I can forgive the occasional slip if you are being
tormented. Or 
in passion. But don't you think this was rather excessive? I can
imagine this 
kind of language coming from your mouth if I was whipping you. Or
raping you. 
But I was just trying to calm you down. Remember?"

She nodded. Tears falling from her eyes. Pulling at the ropes holding
her.

"So, would it be fair to say that your mouth got you into this
predicament?"

She nodded.

"Pardon me?"

"Yes sir."

"So, if I was to gag you, that might be considered an appropriate
punishment?"

"Please, don't gag me. I'll behave. I promise." But I could see it in
her eyes.
Confusion. A gag hardly seemed like a bad punishment. Certainly not
worthy of
her transgressions.

"Beg me."

"What?"

"Beg me to gag you."

"Oh God. Don't make me do that." She squirmed in the chair.

"Amy."

"Oh God. Alright. Please gag this slave's mouth to teach her a lesson.
Oh my
God."

I picked up the wooden dowel contraption from the floor. She looked at
it with
confusion.

"Tongue."

Comprehension dawned on her and she wildly shook her head. "Oh God.
I'm not
letting you put that on me. No way."

I shrugged and picked up the gun. "Have it your way. Would you like to
see
the bullet hitting your father's knee? I can bring him in here if
you'd like."

"Oh Christ." I watched as she stuck out her tongue and held it. Pleading
evident in her eyes.

I wandered over while she held still and slipped the tongue clamp over
the
tip of her extended tongue. I used the wing nuts to tighten it down
tightly
against her tongue. Finally she squealed and I pulled gently at the
clamp.
It was attached firmly. She automatically tried to bring her tongue back
into her mouth as soon as I released the clamp from my grasp. Of course,
the clamp prevented her from doing that, and she finally gave up,
letting
her tongue extend between her lips.

"eeth," she begged. Trying to say "Please".

Little did she know it got worse. I knelt in front of her, and wrapped
some
thin cord around her toes, lashing them together. She squirmed a bit at
the sensations.

I ran the cord up through the eye bolts. Using the cord, I pulled down,
forcing her to raise her legs to a straight out position. She squirmed.

"Hold them up," I ordered her. I felt the weight of her legs reduce as
she
took most of the strain on her thigh muscles. I deftly wrapped the other
end of the cord around the tongue clamp. Ignoring her squeals and
begging.
She was well aware of the problem. Her thighs were going to tire
quickly.
And her tongue was going to be stretched right out of her mouth. She
could
probably already feel her thighs screaming at the tension. But if she
didn't
manage to keep her thighs like that, her mouth was going to be in agony.
The tears began to fall. She was probably wishing that she'd never even
thought about defying me.

"Amy?"

"oh ong?" she tried to say. I was pretty sure that she wanted to know
how
long she was going to be in this. Her body shaking with the sobbing
and the
pain.

"You want it higher? Tighter?"

"eeze. oh ong?" trying to shake her head but not being overly
successful.

I took pity on her. "We'll see. I'm going to go finish my lunch. I might
release you afterwards if you're good."

"Oh od."

I turned on my heel and left the suffering girl on her own, returning to
the kitchen. By now the other three women were finished their meals.
They
just sat quietly. Not looking at me. Afraid. I'm not sure how much of
the
disagreement they heard, but at this point they knew better than to even
speak.

Christi, eyes downcast, just reached forward and picked up my plate.
Still
with the untouched cheese sandwiches. I could see the fear and
distress in
her eyes. She wanted, or needed something, but was afraid to ask. I
wasn't
angry at her, so I made it easier on the tortured woman.

"Christi? You can speak. What do you need?"

She must have been frightened. She reverted to slave talk. "Please.
Don't
punish this slave. This slave just doesn't know whether you want her
to make 
a new sandwich or heat these. Please. Please don't punish me too. I
haven't
done anything."

"It's alright. Calm down. Just reheat those."

She nodded and quickly as she could turned back to the stove. Jane and
Elizabeth just sat quietly. Avoiding my eyes. Frightened as well.
Probably
wondering what I did to Amy. But no way were they going to ask me.

Christi reheated my lunch for the second time. Placed the plate in
front of
me, with a longing look at the cheese sandwiches and took her seat
between
Jane and Elizabeth. All three girls were probably hungry. It wasn't
much to
eat and their life was reasonably vigorous these days. I'd have to start
feeding them better if I kept expecting the same caliber of
performance out
of them. But for now, I wasn't going to allow them any more food. I
wanted
them a little hungry.

Finally, some peace and quiet. I silently ate. Admiring the bare females
in front of me while they just shifted awkwardly. Not quite daring to
open
their mouths, yet.






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