Barmaid in bondage

CHAPTER SIX

"Hey, Lynda, you remember this?" Buck was dragging Lynda by her hair across the filthy floor of the bar. "Sure you do. You're the bitch who brought the cops out here to make me get rid of it. You know, I lost a fucking lot of business. I've got a replacement now, and none of the sluts I had in here were anywhere near as fucking sexy as you."

"No!" Lynda cried. It was true. They could keep pushing her farther down into the muck forever. "Not in there, Buck! The police – the police told me what that thing did! It's-it's horrible! I've tried to be good! Oh please, please, I've tried to be good."

"Try a little harder bitch," Pete said, pulling a stripper's costume out from behind the bar. "And maybe you'll still be fucking alive come morning."

"Or maybe not," Grady said with a shrug. "I'm a fucking mechanical genius, you know – and I fixed that cage up real good."

Grady was telling the truth. After the police – at Lynda's insistence – had forced Buck to get rid of his stripper, one of the men on the force had told her about the cage Buck made the girl dance in. It was hooked up to a generator that could shoot an almost lethal dose of electricity through the floor and bars. There were metal bars with needle-sharp ends that could be extended into the cage at any angle, controlled by a remote control box that Buck kept behind the bar. Worst of all there was the mask. When the policeman had told her about the mask she had refused to believe him.

She believed him now. The mask was a tiny gas mask that covered a girl's mouth. It was connected to a rubber tube that led out of the cage. The tube was connected to a pneumatic pump. The men could put any liquid they wanted into the tube and use the pump to force-feed the fluid to the girl who was wearing the mask. The girl had only two choices. She could swallow or she could drown.

Lynda struggled weakly against Buck as the man lowered the cage from the ceiling and opened the door. Buck punched her in the nose hard enough to make it bleed, then grabbed her full, round tits in his strong hands and squeezed them until Lynda was trembling in agony. Pete tossed the stripper's outfit in her face and Buck kicked her in the soft hollow of her stomach before he stepped away.

"Put that shit on, Lynda," he said. "Now. We want to see how good a big-assed landlady can shake her tits."

Lynda could barely move. Just pulling the stripper's outfit off her face made her arms ache horribly. The men cursed her and spit on her as she tried to sort out the tangle of outlandish clothing.

They tossed lit cigarettes and nuts and pretzels from the bar at her, screaming at her for being too slow. Lynda was almost used to the sensation of a man's spit splattering on her face. The cigarettes stung when they hit her, though, making her jerk and cry out in pain. She couldn't move any faster, though.

Lynda cried again when she saw the outfit Pete had thrown her. There were tassels for her nipples, and when Lynda saw that they were meant to be attached by sharp-toothed alligator clips, she looked up at the men with the expression of a kicked dog.

She put them on, anyway, screaming in agony as the sharp metal jaws bit down on her sensitive nipples. The pain was terrible. It felt as though her nipples were being crushed and pierced at the same time.

There was a G-string, a tiny band of gold that bit into her full hips and ran up the crack of her ass. Its front was a flashy gold pocket that pulled skintight over the plump mound of her pussy. The G-string was for a woman much smaller than Lynda, and it looked especially obscene stretched tight around her full, sexy ass.

There were sandals that tied up all the way to her knees. These too were for a woman smaller than Lynda, and they crushed her feet horribly. The heels on them were at least six inches tall. Lynda didn't think she'd even be able to stand up on them, much less dance.

The rest of the outfit was just as shameful. There was a long velvet cape colored a tawdry red and black. There was a black leather collar for her throat. There were gold slave bands for her upper arms and a thin gold chain for her waist.

She put the outfit on. "Hey, slut, shake your big ass!" a man shouted.

"Bounce those sexy tits, slut!" another man yelled.

"Nice dance-tramp you got there, Buck," a third man said.

All the men were shouting and laughing, calling Lynda the most vile things, treating her as if she was the kind of slut who would willingly climb into the torture cage for a few bucks or maybe even just a bottle of hard liquor to take home.

"Get into the cage, slut," Buck said, after the men had called her names for awhile. "Time to put on a show."

Lynda turned like the obedient slave she was, wobbling on the spike heels. She stepped into the cage.

Pete and Grady grabbed her arms and pulled her hands to the sides of the cage. They snapped shackles around her wrists, locking her to the bars. Buck slipped the mask over her face. She stayed obediently still while he fitted it over her mouth. She didn't start crying untll they raised the cage into the air. When it dangled about six feet off the floor, the men stopped it.

"Show us what you can do, Lynda," Buck said, sitting on the bar and holding the cage controls in his hand. "Dance for us, you big-titted cow." Lynda tried to dance. She had never liked dancing. It seemed perverted somehow, almost like sex. She wiggled her hips from side to side, shook her shoulders to make her tits bounce under the satin cape.

"Boring!" someone screamed.

"Dead-assed slut!" another man shouted. "Juice her up, Buck! Get that big ass shaking!"

Lynda tried harder. She hunched her hips and swung her arms. She tossed her head on her shoulders, making her silky black hair fan out over her shoulders. She rubbed her legs together and shifted slowly from side to side.

"You're a sorry excuse for a woman, Lynda," Buck said, and hit one of the switches.

Lynda couldn't even scream. Electricity jolted through her voluptuous body, making her jerk and tremble. Every nerve in her body caught fire. She thrashed wildly against the chains that bound her in place. Bomb bursts of agony flared through her brain.

The electriciy stopped. Lynda stood still for a moment, her body still quivering from the after effects of the jolting shock. The men were throwing things at her, anything they could get their hands on.

Lynda screamed through her mask as something thick and wet hit her between the eyes. Her confused mind seized on one thought. She had to dance. She had to make the men hot.

Lynda squirned, thrusting her hips and shaking her tits. She tucked her chin against her tits and caught the string of the cape between her teeth. When she jerked loose the knot and let the cape slide down her shoulders as the men cheered.

"Look at those sweet big tits!" a man shouted.

"Shake that big ass, whore!" another man yelled.

Lynda jerked her upper body from side to side, making her tits wobble wildly back and forth across her chest. She ran her hands down her tiny waist and over her full, sexy hips. She squatted and stood, squatted and stood, as though she was screwing herself down onto the world's biggest cock. She did everything she could think of, frantic to keep Buck from shocking her again.

He did it anyway. Lightning crackled through Lynda's lean, luscious body. The fine muscles in her legs turned to mush and she fell against the bars of the cage. Buck turned up the voltage and Lynda went into convulsions. Her svelte, sexy body flopped around on the floor of the cage as though she was some sexy fish out of water. The men loaded half a bottle of tequila into the tube that led to Lynda's mask. When the alcohol splashed into her mouth, Lynda was too dazed to swallow it, and she started choking. It took every bit of concentration she had to gulp down the burning liquor.

Buck stopped the flow of electricity and Lynda climed uncertainly to her feet. Sne could barely stand, but she knew the men were expecting a show. She thrust her hips forward in a lewd invitation to fuck, arching her back so severely that she looked like a limbo dancer.

The men cheered and poured a beer into the tube. Lynda drank down the beer obediently, rubbing her tits and pussy against the bars of the cage. She ran her shackled hands over her shoulders and down her arms as if she were making love to herself. She straightened her long, lush legs out to her sides and slid into as much of a split as the cage would permit, then flexed the muscles in her thighs and calves until they stood up like cords of silk.

Buck hit a button, and a shaft of metal punched into Lynda's stomach. It was a blunt shaft, but it hit Lynda with such force that it knocked her down. She landed hard, bruising her hip and ass, but the men just laughed. When she tried to struggle to her feet, Buck hit another button and a sharpened metal tip stabbed into her silky ass. Lynda jumped forward, and Buck sent another sharp metal spoke into her full right tit.

Both of the spikes drew tiny trickles of blood. Lynda almost passed out at the sight of her own blood, even though she could tell that the wounds were no more than pin pricks.

She threw herself against the bars of the cage, squirming and thrusting her hips in a desperate attempt to make the men happy. Buck hit the electricity again and Lynda collapsed in a trembling, jerking heap on the floor of the cage. This time Buck left the electricity on for what seemed like forever. Lynda jitterbugged on the floor of the cage, bouncing around like a woman possessed. She was possessed of almost enough volts of electricity to kill her. The electricity flowered through every inch of her body. It seemed to concentrate in her pussy, asshole and tits. Lynda thought that she was gcing to die.

And then Buck cut the electricity, and Lynda realized something that almost shattered her. The shock had made her hot. She almost missed the burning flow of pain through her lush, supple body.

Lynda cried at the thought that the men had debauched her so completely that she could even be turned on by being shocked almost to death.

She had to pull herself to her feet this time. Her legs wouldn't work right, and even after she balanced herself on the spike heels she had to hold onto the bars of the cage to keep from falling. She couldn't stop trembling. It was as if the electricity was still burning through her body, as though it was echoed through her nerve endings, looking for an exit.

Lynda remembered something she had seen a stripper do once and started bouncing in circles. She watched, fascinated, as her big tits flopped in giant circles, making the tassels spin like the propellers of an airplane. She leaned her head back against her shoulders and jerked more wildly yet. It looked like there was a pillow fight happening on her chest. The tassels looked like pinwheels spinning in a tornado.

"Here, lets give the whore something good to drink," one of the men said, pulling out his cock and aiming it down into the tube. Two other men stepped up beside him, pushing the heads of their cocks together.

They started pissing. Lynda squealed as her mouth filled with piss. She gagged on the salty, base flavor, but she gulped down the piss as though she couldn't get enough.

She stopped swinging her tits, bucking her hips against the bars instead. When the pocket of the G-string hit the bars of the cage, there was a wet, squelehing sound. The men laughed when they heard it.

Buck hit some more buttons on the control box.

A dull steel rod hit Lynda in the stomach. A sharp one nestled between the full cheeks of her ass and plunged into the tender ring of her shitter.

Lynda screamed in pain, almost drowning on the triple load of piss that was running into her mouth. She lifted one leg, bracing it against the bars of the cage and ground her pussy against the dull bar that hit her in the stomach. Before long pussy-cream was dribbling out from the sides of the golden cunt pocket. Lynda guzzled piss and fucked two rods of steel, one sharp and one dull. Her lean, sexy body was trembling with pleasure.

The men finished pissing and Grady brought a bottle of tabasco sauce out from behind the bar. He broke the neck off and upended the bottle over the tube. Lynda dropped away from the bars, writhing in anguish as the fiery liquid filled her mouth.

"That'll warm the slut up!" one of the men screamed. "Hot enough for you, whore?"

Buck gave her another shot of electricity.

Lynda wallowed on the bottom of the cage, her body burning, her mouth filled with fire.

She banged her head against the floor of the cage. She jerked her ass two feet off the metal cage. Muscles all along her tall, sleek body jumped and flexed uncontrollably. She bit her tongue until it bled, she grabbed her tits and tore at them with her fingernalls until she left bright red streaks in her creamy skin. Her brain short-circuited.

She was cumming.

Buck let off the juice and Lynda grabbed the tiny waistband of the golden G-string. She tore it off and grabbed her swollen cunt-lips with one hand, thrusting three fingers from the other deep inside her cunt. She knifed her fingers deep inside while she pulled at her cunt-lips as though they were rubberbands.

Slippery pussy-cream poured out over her hands, drenching her clenched asscheeks. The men hooted and hollered at the sight of the gorgeous woman bringing herself to orgasm.

"This'll cool the slut down!" Pete shouted, bringing a pitcher of frozen margueritas to the tube. He poured the whole pitcher into the rubber hose. "Get up and dance, bitch! We didn't hire you to lay on your big ass and beat yourself off!"

The freezing liquor hit Lynda's mouth like a cool refreshing wave. She gulped it eagerly for a moment before the pain started. Then the rush of frozen liquid was like so much hot ice, flash freezing her tongue, her teeth and the roof of her mouth. The pain made Lynda's head pound. It felt like there was a nest of bees in her mouth, stinging her to death.

Lynda turned over onto her stomach, grabbed the bars and hauled herself slowly, painfully to her feet. The muscles in her slender arms stood out like steel cords as she pulled herself up. She looked like a cripple, her rubbery legs unable to support her weight. But she looked like a sexy cripple, her fine, lean body soaked with sweat, trembling with pain and lust and exhaustion.

"Now dance, you whore!" one of the men shouted.

"Shake that big sweet ass!" another man exclaimed.

Lynda hung onto the bars of the cage, staring at the crowd of men. Her cunt was squirming with lust. She needed to cum so bad that she hardly knew what was happening. Buck pushed a button and a spiked shaft rose up out of the floor. With a moan of hopeless, helpless lust Lynda spread her legs and squatted on top of it.

"Fuck that bar, whore!" Pete screamed, opening a can of motor oil and pouring it into the tube. "Shove your scuzzy cunt on that big metal cock until it comes out your cocksucking mouth!"

Lynda gagged on the oil, not knowing what she was drinking but realizing dimiy that it was something wrong, something horrible. A man pissed into the tube and Lynda drank his stinking waste eagerly to cleanse her mouth of the taste of the oil. Everywhere men were grabbing horrible things to pour into the tube. Lynda had no choice but to drink everything they fed her.

They poured a bucket of soapy, dirty mop water down the tube. Lynda threw up twice while she was drinking it, but she only had to swallow it back down. They made her drink vinegar. They made her drink window cleaner. They made her drink paint. Booze of every variety went into the tube, and so did filthy toilet water. A man shit into one of the blenders, and after they had spun it into a soupy brown liquid they poured it down the tube too. Lynda had to swallow it all.

She plunged down onto the metal spike, not caring what it was doing to her aiready-tattered cunt. The sharp tip of the spike felt so good as it plunged inside her that Lynda didn't care if it stabbed her to death. She took a foot of the bar inside her, then a foot and a half. Finally she banged her ass all the way down to the floor of the cage, and the sharp tip of the metal spike pushed through her cervix and pierced her womb. Lynda wailed with pain and pleasure, her cunt clutching the bar as though it was the cock of her dearest lover.

Buck punched every button on his box.

A killing jolt of electricity poured through Lynda's squirming, humping body. She screamed so loudly that even through the mask her cries of passion and anguish filled the tiny bar. She tore the mask off her face and screamed again, her big blue eyes rolling back in her head and spit flying from her lips.

"What are you bastards doing to me?" she shrieked, pounding her body down savagely on the spike of metal.

"Fuck you! Fuck you all! I want your cocks! Go ahead, fuck me to death! I know that's what you want! Fuck me to death, then fuck my fucking corpse!"

"Not a bad idea," Grady said with a little smile. "But I think you'll be a little more fun to fuck alive for awhile."

"Yeah," Buck said. "Like for a few years."

"Years!" Lynda howled, throwing her head back as the electricity burned through her lush, lithe body. "Years! Marry me, Buck! Marry me and fuck me to death! I'll dance for you every fucking night! When you fuck me out you can have every fucking thing I own!"

"Now there's an idea," Buck said. "But I want to see what kind of a housekeeper you are first. After all, you have to earn your keep, Lynda. You can't just have fun all of the tinie."

Dozens of metal rods hit Lynda's sleek, squirming body, some of them piercing her creamy tanned skin, others just slamming into her. They pinned her in place atop the big spike that shot up from the floor. Lynda screamed out in passion, climaxing over and over until her orgasms blurred into one mind shattering, everlasting cum.

Finally she passed out, feeling as though she had sold her soul to the devil. She knew that she had been broken, that her old self had been destroyed. She had been reduced to a pain loving sex toy, an obedient, slavish fuck-puppet.