The old guy gets his hands on an ex girlfriend who dumped him rudely. It's almost two years later, so who's going to connect her disappearance with a romance that ended that long ago . He's never gotten over the humiliation of his response at that time--going to her and begging her to take him back, tell him what he did, anything! It's taken a while to find the place where he can work her over with no-one around to hear her, to plan what he will do to her. He's carefully arranged how to capture her so no-one will raise an alarm for days or maybe even weeks.
When she comes awake she finds herself naked and bound in a chair, with her pussy spread open by a copper pipe. There is a mirror beside her and an empty chair in front of hers. She's gagged with a knotted cloth, cameras around her videotaping. She tries to call out for someone, fights to free herself, and looks around. She's never seen this place, but she definitely recognizes some of the things on the table beside the other chair. There are whips, a lit candle, pliers and an electrical generator with wires coiled on top of it. The fear in her belly deepens, and she really fights.
Suddenly he's there, and she stops. She recognizes him immediately and feels confusion. It's been years. More!
He says not a word. Just moves to her and removes the gag. Her immediate flow of words makes him smile. It was always something about her that drove him crazy. She's demanding, cursing him. He picks up the flogger, steps close to her as she tries to shrink away in the chair, grabs her hair and holds her still. She is silent for a moment, then she begins again. This time asking him what he wants, what he's doing.
"You remember when I begged you?" he asks, looking down into her eyes. He uses her hair to force her to nod slowly. "Of course you do. And do you remember what it got me?" Again he forces her to nod. "Nothing!" The flogger snaps down hard on her perfect breasts that tormented his dreams for so long. She jumps and cries out. "That's what I want from you," he tells her with a smile. "I want to hear you beg: You're going to beg me to stop hurting you, beg me to fuck you, beg me to take you back."
She whines in her throat, the sound of terror. "And you are going to do it," he tells her. "You're going to beg for all of those things--whether it takes you an hour or even a few days or the rest of your life. You're going to beg, and you're going to cry--not those crocodile tears you used to cry for me. Real tears. Real screams. And you know what you'll get from me?" He uses her hair to turn her head side to side. "The same thing it got me," he tells her. "Nothing. Nothing but pain. Lots and lots of pain."
The whip slashes down again and her torture begins. It will go on for days. In the chair she'll be burned with the giant knife he always carried that she hated, burned on her breasts, on her thighs and on her pussy. She'll have electrodes on her breasts and current in the copper pipe between her legs as he cranks the generator. Does she scream? Oh, she screams, and she can see the pleasure in his face. Later he stands her up and whips her again and uses pliers on her nipples and clitoris. And does she cry? Yes, she cries, she sobs, the tears dry on her face and then flow again. She sweats and twists and jumps and bucks, and she sees the pleasure he is taking.
The only breaks she gets are when he downloads the video and recharges the cameras, goes to the bathroom or has a snack. But she is never free. Yes, time after time she passes out from the pain, and yes, she pisses in the chair or standing, the hot urine running down her leg. He mops it up with a rag and then wipes her body with it.
There are no windows in the room, so she never knows what time it is. No clocks to help her measure how long each torture lasts. There is no time--only pain. Her lovely body is marked with burns and areas where the pliers have torn her skin and where the constant whipping stripes it as she dances helplessly. Her lovely voice grows raw and ragged from the screaming. No gag. She screams until she is deafened by her own helpless shrieks.
And does she beg? She begs him to stop, and he stops when he's tired. She begs him to fuck her, and he does whenever he is ready--in her agonized pussy and her tight virgin ass. She begs him to take her back. He immobilizes her head with his hand in her totally-disarrayed hair and kisses her, long, deep kisses. At first she is disgusted by his kisses, but as she realizes that it is a rest, she does her best to make them last.
And what does she get? Nothing.
Whenever he is going to take a break, she is returned to the seat with the pipe splitting her pussy open and the clips on her nipples. Sometimes he uses the crank generator, so he can increase or decrease the current by speeding up or slowing the speed. But when he sleeps, he plugs her wires into the generator and sets it to send current into her for 10 seconds every minute. She screams and pleads and counts the seconds before the next shock. She knows it will never end until she dies. She wishes she could kill him, but he never leaves her a way of getting free.
Here he comes again.
