Sharpened spoke
Part One. The First Day of Trials.
A sharply sharpened knitting needle slowly pierced her left breast. Although her breasts had already been pricked today with pins, syringe needles, her nipples pierced, and molten wax dripped on them, which she endured quite stoically—here she couldn't hold back, groaned, and tears of pain ran from her eyes down her cheeks.
The young man stopped the execution and looked into her eyes—"You wanted this yourself. Should I stop?"—"No, don't, I'll endure everything, continue," she said quietly with bitten lips—"Don't pay attention to my moans, and if you want, gag me with something."
She truly wanted this. Or rather,
she, of course, didn't want torture. She wanted to be with her Slava, and therefore agreed to give herself to him entirely for the weekend—for him to do whatever he wanted with her—that was the condition for future meetings.They met at a party hosted by mutual friends. Stas, shining in the company, glanced at her briefly, and she melted—then spent the whole evening trying in every way to catch his attention—unbuttoning her blouse as much as possible, showing him her breasts, standing next to him, making sure he would accidentally touch her. And in the end, her efforts were not in vain; already quite drunk, she managed to get alone with him in the bathroom, where she let him grope her all over, and she herself gave what she thought was an unforgettable blowjob: not just swallowing his cock, shoving the head deep into her throat, and managing, at the same time, to lick his balls and even reach his anus with her tongue.
But, despite the blowjob, Stas still didn't pay attention to the girl—he had no shortage of attention from girls, and many were ready to pay for his attention with a deep blowjob.
Finding out where he lived was a matter of technique. And she often waited for him by the entrance, wearing extremely revealing clothes, and sometimes, despite the fairly late autumn, wore only a jacket over her naked body, which barely covered her ass, and in that state met him after work.
True, this couldn't melt his heart. Although indeed, he groped her breasts, pinching her nipples, and even allowed her to give him a blowjob a couple of times, right in the entrance of his building. For him, this was within acceptable limits, but these small signs of attention gave her increased hope each time that her efforts were not in vain.
Slava was starting to get annoyed by this situation—he couldn't bring other girls, the neighbors were giving looks, friends were laughing. At the same time, he couldn't get rid of her—invariably in the morning or evening she would meet him, flashing her bare thighs and trying to show that she had nothing on under her clothes. And she met any confrontations, even blows, with gratitude, as signs of attention.
At the end of November, it became clear that the status quo needed to be clearly defined, and he suggested they meet in a park not far from his house. Despite the snow that had fallen the day before, she again came wearing only a jacket over her naked body. He tries to say that he doesn't like the situation at all—but she doesn't listen to him, they are finally alone for once. It's cold, there's no one in the park, it's dark, and only in the distance can dog walkers be seen. So she takes off her jacket, remaining only in her boots, sits on her knees in front of him, and wrapping her arms around his leg, sobbing, begins to declare her love to him. To all of Slava's arguments, sobbing, she continues to say that she will love him forever, that he can test her love in any way, she is ready to do anything for him.
Finally, he understands that he really won't get rid of her through conversation. And he promises to meet with her if she spends two days with him, fulfilling all his fantasies. She listened and couldn't believe her happiness, nodded, and repeated that she was ready for anything and would accept everything from him.
"Okay,"—he assessed the naked girl sitting on her knees in the snow in front of him, immediately coming up with the first test—"then tomorrow by six in the morning come to my car, just don't wear any clothes—I like you better naked, and no boots either, come naked and barefoot, we'll go to my dacha."
He turned around and quickly walked away. She was stunned by the offer; for her, it was ideal—she herself wanted to belong to him completely, she herself was ready to offer herself and her body into Slava's full possession—for him to do whatever he wanted with her; and here he himself offered exactly that.
The girl sat there naked, her knees in the snow, watching the receding figure of her beloved man, not feeling the cold, in a state of light euphoria, not afraid that someone might see her. Finally, the meaning of what was said dawned on her, and without waiting for tomorrow, wanting to test herself, she took off her boots and slowly rose from her knees, taking the boots and jacket in her hands.
Stas wasn't a pervert; he even hoped that such an offer would scare her, that walking naked and barefoot in the snow would sober her up, and she wouldn't dare or even be able to come to his car tomorrow. Although just in case, at home he watched some BDSM sessions, roughly sketching out the scenario for the upcoming weekend and possible trials for the girl.
She, however, didn't doubt for a second that she would come tomorrow. Throwing on her jacket, but not even thinking of putting on her boots, she headed home, where she climbed into a warm bath to warm up and get herself in order. Her whole body ached with anticipation of the upcoming weekend—she imagined how she would give him a blowjob, how he would take her, roughly, harshly. Bite her nipples and twist them. She was ready for him to tie her up and beat her, on her ass, back, stomach, thighs, and breasts, and imagining this, she got aroused—yes, she was ready to fulfill any of his fantasies and was convinced she could fulfill any of his requests.
This weekend, Stas planned to go to the dacha. True, the company didn't come together—everyone turned out to be busy, so the idea of going to have fun with a girl who agreed to everything amused him. Of course, he doubted to the extreme that she would come, and if she did, she wouldn't fulfill his condition—to come naked. So he was quite surprised when he saw the naked girl shifting from foot to foot next to his car. Even some irritation overcame him. Squeezing her breast and forcefully pinching her nipple with his fingers, slightly twisting it, without letting go he led her to the trunk, Stas said—"Alright, let's think about what to do with you." He opened the trunk and suggested she climb in. He didn't want her, with a naked pussy, sitting in the leather interior of the car, but he was ready for a possible protest. No protest followed—swinging her leg, the girl quickly climbed into the trunk and smiled at him. He shrugged and slammed the trunk lid shut.
Although the garage was warm, the heater wasn't on, so there wasn't much warmth felt in the garage, except there was no snow on the floor, but the snow stuck to her soles wasn't melting, so she didn't feel any advantage. But she managed to shake off the snow and catch her breath, stretching her numb limbs. Afraid to stay in the garage too long—Slava might not like that—she grabbed a shovel and, squeezing outside, began to shovel the snow. She finished the job quickly, even warmed up.
Stas sat in the car, watching the naked girl clear the snow. He didn't expect how this sight would arouse him. True, on the other hand, he was a little worried that the girl might get sick—after all, he wasn't ready to take responsibility for someone else's health, even such a fool's. So when she had cleared enough snow so he could drive through without worry—he shouted for her to go into the garage, turn on the heater there, and he drove the car in.
She stood in front of the heater, but despite the emanating warmth, she was trembling slightly—she just couldn't warm up. He stood next to her, touched her buttocks, turned her towards him, grabbed her breast, kneaded it. And lowering his hand, he squeezed her labia. "Cold?" She nodded. "Want some vodka?" She nodded again. He took a bag out of the car, pulled out a bottle of vodka, poured a glass, and handed it to her. She drank it in one gulp. The trembling slowly began to subside. "Well?"—"Okay."—"Ready to continue fulfilling my fantasies, or have you changed your mind?"—"Haven't changed my mind and won't." He nodded, walked to the corner of the garage, took a coil of rope, and approached her, turning her back, tightly tied her hands, then threw the rope over a beam on the ceiling, and pulled it up; her hands rose, and she herself was bent over so her ass stuck out. He slapped her ass loudly with his hand. "Ready for a spanking?"—"Yes"—"Really, won't change your mind?"—"I'm ready for anything."
She thought he would hit her with his hand or, at worst, a belt, but suddenly the air was cut by a whistle and something burning struck her ass; she couldn't hold back and screamed, jerked, almost dislocating her arms from their sockets, and turned around trying to see what he hit her with—he had a rod in his hand. Tears of resentment streamed from her eyes—she was ready to be hit with a stick, a whip, but hoped he would warn her. She endured the second blow—was ready. Third, fourth. After the cold of the street, she felt heat in her rear. Involuntarily, with each blow, her legs buckled, twisting her arms, causing additional pain. He had tied her hands relatively loosely, so she couldn't dislocate them. After the tenth blow, wanting to prove her devotion, she turned and said: "Continue, and you can even hit harder." He appreciated this gesture. Of course, he intensified the blows, making at least twenty more, and stopped only when he saw he had bloodied her ass. However, she only moaned, not uttering any more screams. He untied her. She immediately sank to the floor, breathing heavily, lay on her stomach, her ass sticking up high. Her hands were freed and she grabbed her buttocks with her hands; the heat from them practically burned her hands. With her fingers, she felt the welts left by the blows.
Stas also looked from behind. And placed his hand on her buttocks, also feeling the welts left by the rod, smearing drops of blood over her buttocks. And carefully touched her sphincter with his index finger. The girl immediately relaxed it and slightly pushed back, hoping he would insert his finger into her ass, or maybe even fuck her. But he abruptly pulled his hand away, and she pressed her anus against the cold glass of the vodka bottle. He pressed on the bottle, and she, understanding his intent, tried to relax even more, but the bottle, with its blunt end, wouldn't go into her sufficiently narrow ass, only causing her pain and not allowing her to relax. "Damn, it won't go in," he said aloud. She turned her head towards him and said—"It will—it will, you continue, don't pay attention"—"Maybe some oil?"—"Try—with oil it should be easier."
He went out of the garage for oil, and she, left alone without changing her position, shoved her middle fingers into her anus and began forcefully stretching it to prepare for receiving the bottle. After a couple of minutes, Stas returned and began pouring oil directly onto her anus; she stretched her anus again with her fingers so the oil could get inside. After which Stas again pressed the bottom of the bottle against her and began slowly rotating it as he inserted it.
She was afraid to move so as not to disturb her beloved man, her beaten ass ached, her rear stung and stretched with the bottle inserted into it, her throat hurt after having his cock shoved into it so harshly. But still, she was happy; finally, they were together, finally, just the two of them, even lying next to each other, although on the garage floor, not even having reached the dacha house yet—but she already knew: nothing would stop her from winning his love. She would satisfy any fantasy, any idea of his just to be with him. She turned her face and saw his penis with drops of semen right next to her lips—and sticking out her tongue, she began to lick off the semen, with her lips she took the head and began to suck on it.
Stas caught his breath, and finally it dawned on him that it was impossible to get rid of the girl—she really was ready for anything, and if he needed to get rid of her, he would have to resort to unique, sophisticated methods to scare her, to guarantee that his love for her would only come through perversions and pain, and such pain that she wouldn't be able to endure, though he needed to think of something.
The girl sat on the floor and could barely breathe. With her palm, she touched her ass—the hole didn't want to close, although she clenched her buttocks, but with her palm she felt that the diameter was still no less than three of her fingers, even at the moment of greatest tension. Finally, leaning against the wall, she stood up. With her foot, she smeared the semen that had leaked from her ass, and with her palms wiped the semen from her thighs.
Slowly, she approached the garage exit and opened the door to the yard. It was snowing outside. She really didn't want to go outside into the snow completely naked—the memories of the morning walk and clearing snow in front of the garage were still fresh—she imagined how much her toes would hurt on the icy snow, and now she also had to build a snowman, meaning freezing her hands and whole body with snow.
But noticing that Stas was watching her from the house window, afraid to show him weakness, she stepped onto the snow-covered path and immediately went deeper into the yard where the snow was deepest, on the way rolling a snowball and starting to roll it into a snowball. This was very difficult—her hands refused to obey, her legs buckled, and she fell into the snow several times. True, she quickly realized that it was better to fall on her ass—her spanked, battered rear gratefully accepted such a cold compress.
Stas watched her from the window, already imagining what trial he would subject her to next. He came out of the house just as the girl was placing the third ball—the head—on the snowman and asked if she was cold. Despite the pain that constrained her movements, after placing the head, she turned to Stas and said no, and that she even seemed to be having fun playing in the snow. "Good, there's a lake nearby; I swim there in the summer. Will you swim there now?"—"Of course," she nodded, having initially decided to agree to any of Stas's proposals. "Well, let's go, I'll bring the car out."
The girl didn't need an explanation—she opened the garage doors herself, and when he drove the car out, she closed them. She stood hesitantly next to the trunk. Stas smiled: "Sit next to me, I laid a towel here." The girl rushed into the warm car. And Stas handed her a bottle of vodka; she immediately put it to her lips.
The vodka spread through her body, dilating her blood vessels, restoring her breathing, softening the pain.
On the shore, she approached the towel—she was trembling finely, began to dry herself quickly, trying to warm up through friction.
Then Stas approached her: "Well, you know how to get to me, I'll be waiting—I'll prepare something for your arrival," he pecked her on the cheek, got in the car, and drove away, leaving a naked, wet girl alone in the middle of a snowy field, with only one frozen towel.
As soon as Stas's car disappeared from view, the girl helplessly dropped to her knees and cried. She couldn't imagine how to walk in the cold, wet. Curling up, tucking her legs under her, and covering herself with the towel, she tried to somehow warm up and stop the trembling. Finally, her body managed to more or less adjust to the surrounding temperature, and she was able to stand up, throwing the towel over her shoulders. She took a step into the snow, and immediately millions of tiny, sharp ice crystals pierced her foot. The second step was no less painful. She even had to stop and rub her feet with snow using the towel for a long time to somehow ease the pain. She even tried to walk stepping on the towel, but it was so clumsy and slow that she had to abandon the idea—she wouldn't have made it by morning.
So she had to, overcoming the pain, step barefoot through the snow, shielding herself from the wind with the towel.
She reached the dacha settlement without incident. On the empty, snow-covered road, the tracks from Stas's car stood out brightly, so it was impossible to get lost. A couple of times she had to leave the road, sinking into snowdrifts