Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Captive in The Dark (2)
A Disused Market Warehouse, District XIII (Józsefváros), Budapest, Hungary
The captive girl looked down at the floor, her mind reverting fleetingly to the caning she had received whilst being forced to kneel and chained to metal floor tubes, an extended thick dildo penetrating her body as the long, thin willow rod sliced into her flesh from every angle.
But as the door to her cell opened again, Grace felt compelled to look up.
Grzegorz Barta crossed the room to where the light switches were, and left the bare bulb illuminated above him. Grace watched his movement with a growing sense of dread. After checking the door was securely closed, Barta stood and stared at the naked girl, manacled against the wall, her body still battered and her mind addled from the ‘walling’ she had recently received.
He looked at her and sighed. “So, Cassie Brown,” he said loosening his tie, “… You’re not MI6, not CIA nor Mossad. You have been beaten, humiliated, tortured, pierced with needles, piss-boarded and still you hold out on us, which leads me to believe only one thing.”
Barta paused momentarily …
“And that is that you belong to one of the many people who want to take over my empire … bad people, worse than me, and so I am going to continue asking you questions.” The tie was neatly folded and laid on the chair.
“Whether you answer them or not is largely immaterial, because I will know soon enough if either the Fundoi or those Fidesz bastards have sent you.”
Barta flexed his flabby shoulders and shrugged off his jacket, before neatly hanging it on the back of the chair.
“W-what are you doing?” Grace stammered, looking at him and noticing the heavy bruising around his neck and the thin cuts from her cheese wire attack.
Barta simply smiled his malicious grin, as big, fat fingers unbuttoned his shirt, and as each fastening opened, it revealed more and more of his sagging, unsightly stomach. Eventually, flicking open his cufflinks, Barta shrugged himself out of the shirt.
He folded it neatly. Grace felt her pulse quicken. Barta was a pig of a man – his heavy torso made up of slabs of fat that rippled as he moved.
There was a jingle as his belt buckle opened, and the sound altered as he pulled down his flies.
“Now to take what I really want.”
Barta smiled, stepping out of his creased and crumpled trousers before hanging them over the back of the chair. He peeled off his socks next. The monstrous, overweight man was standing naked, except for a ridiculously tight pair of boxer shorts, which bulged at the front.
“And, little Kurva,” He hooked his thumbs into the elastic waistband, “…when you start screaming, don’t expect anybody to come and rescue you.”
Tugging down the boxers, out flopped his thick length of hard flesh. Seeing him like this, with such … clarity, Grace gasped. Barta chuckled, kicking aside his underpants. His cock rose proudly from a mass of unkempt, curly pubic hair, swelling to even great width when he saw her reaction to his exposed nudity.
“Now, you, delicious slut,” he took a menacing step forward. “If you are unwilling to answer any more of my questions, why don’t I find a much more productive use for that pretty little mouth of yours?”
Reaching up he unfastened the manacles and the exhausted girl fell to the ground in heap. Barta grabbed a fistful of Grace’s matted dark hair. With a jerk, he yanked her back to her feet.
“Ow! Fuck! That hurts…”
“That’s the point.” Barta was holding her high, so Grace had to stand on tip-toes to prevent him wrenching her hair from her scalp. “Now let me get a proper look at you.”
Off balance, she was helpless to prevent him spinning her around. She wailed, the pressure on her scalp increasing, but, peering down at his naked captive with a hungry look in his eyes, he simply ignored her cries
“Oh, you’re so fucking fuckable.” He drooled.
Still holding her hair, he used his other hand to stroke Grace’s skin, both the smooth, unblemished flesh and also the bruised and lacerated surface. She whimpered. His big hand was rough and heavily calloused. Barta’s rough palm slid along her hip, before gently cupping one of her ample, swollen breasts.
He squeezed and Grace groaned.
“Mmmm perfect. like a ripe grapefruit,” his cock had swollen even more, rising like a flagpole from his crotch. “You are such a hot little cunt, aren’t you?”
With that he released the grip on Grace’s hair and she fell gratefully back to the floor. But then, as she looked up, she realised she was eye-level with Barta’s crotch, his thick, cock pointing angrily in her face.
With a smirk overtaking his face, his thick fingers wrapped themselves into her hair again.
“Now,” tugging her hair, Barta yanked Grace’s face towards his crotch. “I’m sure you have no confusion at what I expect from you Miss Brown.”
“I…” Grace stuttered.
Slap! Barta’s palm left a stinging imprint on her cheek.
“Do it, slut, and if I so much as feel your teeth your death will be slow and agonising!”
Barta threw his head back as he felt the warm wetness envelope his straining cock. The sloppy sound of sucking echoed off the walls of the cell. The pig of a Hungarian peered down and saw the slut sucking him obediently, her lips stretched wide to accommodate his thick erection.
Saliva dribbled down her chin as she was forced to engulf the swollen throbbing head.
“Good girl,” he murmured, using his grip on her hair to impale her further.
“Use your tongue like a slutty little Kurva would.”
The slurping grew louder. Barta revelled in the sensation.
This little cunt was gifted. He knew from experience that his cock was bigger than most women could comfortably handle, yet this slutty, sexy little captive girl was doing a fine job pleasuring him with her talented lips and tongue.
As she worked, looking down, he appraised the rest of her body. The ample, pendulous breasts with their hard, red nipples. Her rounded, peachy ass … he had plans for that…
There was a ‘pop’ as Barta yanked Grace’s mouth off his cock. Grasping his thick, shaft like a stick, he slapped Grace across the cheek with it.
Slap! The sound was harsh … wet.
A yank of her hair pulled the girl’s head up, until her tear-filled eyes met his.
“What a fucking whore you are?” Barta growled. Grace’s lips were glistening. Saliva ran freely down her chin to hang in thick globs before dripping onto her breasts.
The hapless girl just looked at this pig of man and blinked the moisture from her eyes.
With a fistful of her hair, he spun Grace around. Kicking the plastic chair aside, he bent her over the small table and slammed her down, until her cheek was pressed against the cold plastic.
“Please … no.” She begged, serving only to fuel his lust and desire.
Grace was bent in half, her rounded ass sticking out, and with her hands still cuffed behind her back, the only thing cushioning her were her breasts, squashed against the table’s cool surface.
As Barta released her hair, she immediately felt one of his hands press down between her shoulder blades, pinning her to the table.
“Now you get to enjoy me inside that perfect little ass of yours Cassie Brown.” He hissed.
Guest Room 119, Ensana Grand Margaret Island Hotel, Margitsziget 1007, Budapest
“Jase, I can hardly wait to see what you look like in this fetish party get-up,” giggled Barb as they returned to their hotel room after the completion of a late-afternoon reccie to find ‘The Leopard V’ and to survey its surroundings. To their good fortune, the locale also served up a shop specializing in fetish party costumes, where they made a few purchases … as well as a friendly cafe where they grabbed a quick bite to eat.
“Are we clear on the plan for tonight?” he asked, avoiding her comment.”
“Sure. We go to the Club, get ourselves admitted to the fetish party downstairs, make nice with the people there and see if it’s possible somehow to get to Grace. We mingle, socialize with guests and staff, discretely ask some questions and hope we get a lead to her that we can follow up on.”
“Yeah, that’s about it. We play it by ear and hope for the best. You said it’s a dungeon themed scene there. What do I do if some guy, or some girl for that matter, singles you out and suggests that they stretch you out on a rack or whip you at a post, or some kink like that?”
“You, let them do it, Jase. Don’t get defensive. Play along. I can take care of myself.”
“Alright, whatever. I suppose it’s time that we got ourselves into these outlandish costumes. It’s already dark out, and we should be going soon.
“Yeah, November in Budapest … pretty dreary. We still have some time, though, before we have to leave for the club … no point in getting there before things are well underway. So, yeah, now is probably a good time to try on our outfits and get used to wearing them.”
“You go first, Barb. I didn’t get to see what you selected and I’m quite curious.”
“Sure, why not?” she said smiling coyly as she reached for one of the shopping bags tossed on the bed, gathered a few additional items from her travel bag, and disappeared into the bathroom.
“Get your outfit on too, Jase,” she called from within.
He could hear her humming to herself as he somewhat reluctantly opened the bag containing the outfit he had picked out for himself … or more accurately, that she had picked out for him. He really didn’t care much for the outlandish costumes on sale at the fetish boutique, but knew they had to play the part.
Slipping out of his clothes, he held up the black spandex, ‘wet-look’ men’s BDSM trousers, sighed wistfully, and forced himself into them. Then, doffing his shirt, added the sleeveless, black leather, open-front, metal-studded, men’s top vest and set himself on the edge of the bed to await Barb’s reappearance.
It turned out to be a bit of a wait, and he began to wonder what was taking her so long when the bathroom door flew open.
“Tah-dah!” she exclaimed as she strutted out before him, hamming it up in a most provocative manner … wearing a black, see-through, frontal zip, body-suit that hid absolutely nothing … the only opaque bit being a black flowery mantle that plunged down over shoulders but stopped well short of covering her breasts. Her legs were bare, her feet in black stiletto heels.”
“Holy shit!” murmured Jase.
“You’re a sight to see yourself,” she laughed.
“Can we really go out in public looking like this?”
“If we want to gain entry to that fetish party at The Leopard V we can. But, hey, look at this! The zipper on the front of my body suit unzips all the all the way down and over my pussy! These genius fetish costume designers thought of everything, didn’t they?”
“Hmmmmm …”
“I know what you’re thinking Jase.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, that growing bulge beneath your spandex pants is kind of a tip off,” she laughed as she began to unzip the front of her body suit. “Want to see how far down this zipper will go?”
“Vixen!”
“Awww! Come here big boy!” she teased throwing herself back on the bed and spreading her legs.
He was on her in seconds. And as he parted the front of her body suit with both hands, mouthed her eager nipples, nibbled at her ear, bussed her forehead, and smoothly eased himself inside her welcoming wetness, she smiled … knowing that should they succeed in finding his estranged wife later that night, all bets were off.
But for now, she had Jase exactly where she wanted him … between her thighs, and whatever lay ahead she fully intended to fight like hell to keep him there.
To Be Continued …
A Disused Market Warehouse, District XIII (Józsefváros), Budapest, Hungary
The captive girl looked down at the floor, her mind reverting fleetingly to the caning she had received whilst being forced to kneel and chained to metal floor tubes, an extended thick dildo penetrating her body as the long, thin willow rod sliced into her flesh from every angle.
But as the door to her cell opened again, Grace felt compelled to look up.
Grzegorz Barta crossed the room to where the light switches were, and left the bare bulb illuminated above him. Grace watched his movement with a growing sense of dread. After checking the door was securely closed, Barta stood and stared at the naked girl, manacled against the wall, her body still battered and her mind addled from the ‘walling’ she had recently received.
He looked at her and sighed. “So, Cassie Brown,” he said loosening his tie, “… You’re not MI6, not CIA nor Mossad. You have been beaten, humiliated, tortured, pierced with needles, piss-boarded and still you hold out on us, which leads me to believe only one thing.”
Barta paused momentarily …
“And that is that you belong to one of the many people who want to take over my empire … bad people, worse than me, and so I am going to continue asking you questions.” The tie was neatly folded and laid on the chair.
“Whether you answer them or not is largely immaterial, because I will know soon enough if either the Fundoi or those Fidesz bastards have sent you.”
Barta flexed his flabby shoulders and shrugged off his jacket, before neatly hanging it on the back of the chair.
“W-what are you doing?” Grace stammered, looking at him and noticing the heavy bruising around his neck and the thin cuts from her cheese wire attack.
Barta simply smiled his malicious grin, as big, fat fingers unbuttoned his shirt, and as each fastening opened, it revealed more and more of his sagging, unsightly stomach. Eventually, flicking open his cufflinks, Barta shrugged himself out of the shirt.
He folded it neatly. Grace felt her pulse quicken. Barta was a pig of a man – his heavy torso made up of slabs of fat that rippled as he moved.
There was a jingle as his belt buckle opened, and the sound altered as he pulled down his flies.
“Now to take what I really want.”
Barta smiled, stepping out of his creased and crumpled trousers before hanging them over the back of the chair. He peeled off his socks next. The monstrous, overweight man was standing naked, except for a ridiculously tight pair of boxer shorts, which bulged at the front.
“And, little Kurva,” He hooked his thumbs into the elastic waistband, “…when you start screaming, don’t expect anybody to come and rescue you.”
Tugging down the boxers, out flopped his thick length of hard flesh. Seeing him like this, with such … clarity, Grace gasped. Barta chuckled, kicking aside his underpants. His cock rose proudly from a mass of unkempt, curly pubic hair, swelling to even great width when he saw her reaction to his exposed nudity.
“Now, you, delicious slut,” he took a menacing step forward. “If you are unwilling to answer any more of my questions, why don’t I find a much more productive use for that pretty little mouth of yours?”
Reaching up he unfastened the manacles and the exhausted girl fell to the ground in heap. Barta grabbed a fistful of Grace’s matted dark hair. With a jerk, he yanked her back to her feet.
“Ow! Fuck! That hurts…”
“That’s the point.” Barta was holding her high, so Grace had to stand on tip-toes to prevent him wrenching her hair from her scalp. “Now let me get a proper look at you.”
Off balance, she was helpless to prevent him spinning her around. She wailed, the pressure on her scalp increasing, but, peering down at his naked captive with a hungry look in his eyes, he simply ignored her cries
“Oh, you’re so fucking fuckable.” He drooled.
Still holding her hair, he used his other hand to stroke Grace’s skin, both the smooth, unblemished flesh and also the bruised and lacerated surface. She whimpered. His big hand was rough and heavily calloused. Barta’s rough palm slid along her hip, before gently cupping one of her ample, swollen breasts.
He squeezed and Grace groaned.
“Mmmm perfect. like a ripe grapefruit,” his cock had swollen even more, rising like a flagpole from his crotch. “You are such a hot little cunt, aren’t you?”
With that he released the grip on Grace’s hair and she fell gratefully back to the floor. But then, as she looked up, she realised she was eye-level with Barta’s crotch, his thick, cock pointing angrily in her face.
With a smirk overtaking his face, his thick fingers wrapped themselves into her hair again.
“Now,” tugging her hair, Barta yanked Grace’s face towards his crotch. “I’m sure you have no confusion at what I expect from you Miss Brown.”
“I…” Grace stuttered.
Slap! Barta’s palm left a stinging imprint on her cheek.
“Do it, slut, and if I so much as feel your teeth your death will be slow and agonising!”
Barta threw his head back as he felt the warm wetness envelope his straining cock. The sloppy sound of sucking echoed off the walls of the cell. The pig of a Hungarian peered down and saw the slut sucking him obediently, her lips stretched wide to accommodate his thick erection.
Saliva dribbled down her chin as she was forced to engulf the swollen throbbing head.
“Good girl,” he murmured, using his grip on her hair to impale her further.
“Use your tongue like a slutty little Kurva would.”
The slurping grew louder. Barta revelled in the sensation.
This little cunt was gifted. He knew from experience that his cock was bigger than most women could comfortably handle, yet this slutty, sexy little captive girl was doing a fine job pleasuring him with her talented lips and tongue.
As she worked, looking down, he appraised the rest of her body. The ample, pendulous breasts with their hard, red nipples. Her rounded, peachy ass … he had plans for that…
There was a ‘pop’ as Barta yanked Grace’s mouth off his cock. Grasping his thick, shaft like a stick, he slapped Grace across the cheek with it.
Slap! The sound was harsh … wet.
A yank of her hair pulled the girl’s head up, until her tear-filled eyes met his.
“What a fucking whore you are?” Barta growled. Grace’s lips were glistening. Saliva ran freely down her chin to hang in thick globs before dripping onto her breasts.
The hapless girl just looked at this pig of man and blinked the moisture from her eyes.
With a fistful of her hair, he spun Grace around. Kicking the plastic chair aside, he bent her over the small table and slammed her down, until her cheek was pressed against the cold plastic.
“Please … no.” She begged, serving only to fuel his lust and desire.
Grace was bent in half, her rounded ass sticking out, and with her hands still cuffed behind her back, the only thing cushioning her were her breasts, squashed against the table’s cool surface.
As Barta released her hair, she immediately felt one of his hands press down between her shoulder blades, pinning her to the table.
“Now you get to enjoy me inside that perfect little ass of yours Cassie Brown.” He hissed.
Guest Room 119, Ensana Grand Margaret Island Hotel, Margitsziget 1007, Budapest
“Jase, I can hardly wait to see what you look like in this fetish party get-up,” giggled Barb as they returned to their hotel room after the completion of a late-afternoon reccie to find ‘The Leopard V’ and to survey its surroundings. To their good fortune, the locale also served up a shop specializing in fetish party costumes, where they made a few purchases … as well as a friendly cafe where they grabbed a quick bite to eat.
“Are we clear on the plan for tonight?” he asked, avoiding her comment.”
“Sure. We go to the Club, get ourselves admitted to the fetish party downstairs, make nice with the people there and see if it’s possible somehow to get to Grace. We mingle, socialize with guests and staff, discretely ask some questions and hope we get a lead to her that we can follow up on.”
“Yeah, that’s about it. We play it by ear and hope for the best. You said it’s a dungeon themed scene there. What do I do if some guy, or some girl for that matter, singles you out and suggests that they stretch you out on a rack or whip you at a post, or some kink like that?”
“You, let them do it, Jase. Don’t get defensive. Play along. I can take care of myself.”
“Alright, whatever. I suppose it’s time that we got ourselves into these outlandish costumes. It’s already dark out, and we should be going soon.
“Yeah, November in Budapest … pretty dreary. We still have some time, though, before we have to leave for the club … no point in getting there before things are well underway. So, yeah, now is probably a good time to try on our outfits and get used to wearing them.”
“You go first, Barb. I didn’t get to see what you selected and I’m quite curious.”
“Sure, why not?” she said smiling coyly as she reached for one of the shopping bags tossed on the bed, gathered a few additional items from her travel bag, and disappeared into the bathroom.
“Get your outfit on too, Jase,” she called from within.
He could hear her humming to herself as he somewhat reluctantly opened the bag containing the outfit he had picked out for himself … or more accurately, that she had picked out for him. He really didn’t care much for the outlandish costumes on sale at the fetish boutique, but knew they had to play the part.
Slipping out of his clothes, he held up the black spandex, ‘wet-look’ men’s BDSM trousers, sighed wistfully, and forced himself into them. Then, doffing his shirt, added the sleeveless, black leather, open-front, metal-studded, men’s top vest and set himself on the edge of the bed to await Barb’s reappearance.
It turned out to be a bit of a wait, and he began to wonder what was taking her so long when the bathroom door flew open.
“Tah-dah!” she exclaimed as she strutted out before him, hamming it up in a most provocative manner … wearing a black, see-through, frontal zip, body-suit that hid absolutely nothing … the only opaque bit being a black flowery mantle that plunged down over shoulders but stopped well short of covering her breasts. Her legs were bare, her feet in black stiletto heels.”
“Holy shit!” murmured Jase.
“You’re a sight to see yourself,” she laughed.
“Can we really go out in public looking like this?”
“If we want to gain entry to that fetish party at The Leopard V we can. But, hey, look at this! The zipper on the front of my body suit unzips all the all the way down and over my pussy! These genius fetish costume designers thought of everything, didn’t they?”
“Hmmmmm …”
“I know what you’re thinking Jase.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, that growing bulge beneath your spandex pants is kind of a tip off,” she laughed as she began to unzip the front of her body suit. “Want to see how far down this zipper will go?”
“Vixen!”
“Awww! Come here big boy!” she teased throwing herself back on the bed and spreading her legs.
He was on her in seconds. And as he parted the front of her body suit with both hands, mouthed her eager nipples, nibbled at her ear, bussed her forehead, and smoothly eased himself inside her welcoming wetness, she smiled … knowing that should they succeed in finding his estranged wife later that night, all bets were off.
But for now, she had Jase exactly where she wanted him … between her thighs, and whatever lay ahead she fully intended to fight like hell to keep him there.
To Be Continued …
