Simon Logan - Rohypnol Brides

ROHYPNOL BRIDES

BY SIMON LOGAN

ROHYPNOL BRIDES

A collection of fetishcore short stories

Copyright 2011 by Simon Logan
Originally published by Prime Books 2006
Cover art & design copyright 2006 by Simon Logan

No portion of this book may be reproduced by any means, mechanical, electronic, or otherwise, without first obtaining the permission of the copyright holder.

For more information:

http://www.coldandalone.com

Contents

The room was mostly bare, a single mirror the only thing breaking up the monotony of the cold concrete. There was a table and three chairs and she was bound to one of the chairs.

The cuffs around her ankles were linked to those around her wrists which in turn were wrapped around a metal bar in the chair. The chains were taut enough to restrict her from almost all movements and so all she could do was tense when the rooms only door opened and closed behind her. She did not so much see or hear as feel the presence behind her and it was the same as the one that had secured her to the chair earlier.

Her head hung low, long dirty-blonde hair falling in front of her as she tried to keep her breathing steady. Two immense black boots appeared in front of her.

Look at me, a strong, hoarse voice instructed.

She shifted slightly in the chair, squeezing her eyes shut. There was nothing she could do, nowhere she could go.

Look at me!

And this time he grabbed her hair and pulled her head back so hard and fast that it sent a splinter of pain through her neck and shoulders. She cried out in shock.

The man was in full uniformthe chunky matt black musculature of SWAT gear, a utility belt laden with both offensive and defensive weapons, shining black gloves which he now held her head with. He had removed his gas mask, however, and a broad, stubbly face was revealed with light blue eyes shining in the deep pits of his sockets. She could see the beads of sweat on his forehead like tiny marbles when he leaned forward.

She fought to remain still, to not react. His gloved finger traced the line of her jaw.

Do you know what happens now? he whispered into her ear.

A shiver ran through her, her heartbeat now racing, her entire body screaming for escape.

The man lifted his leg and with one of those huge boots he pushed her chair back away from the table. She was suddenly aware of how the chain linked bondage held her legs apart and she felt the desire to squeeze them shut, but she knew it would be no use.

Please... let me go...

You had your chance to talk, the man said in a thick Slavic accent. He nudged the bruise on her shoulder where her blouse had been torn away. No more talking.

And to that end he removed his utility belt, laying it down on the table before them and methodically removing everything from it. First the heavy-duty baton, then two canisters of spray, a pocketful of white pills, a small sewing kit in a black container, some ammunition, some razor blades.

What are you doing? the woman asked. Her voice was barely recognizable as it shivered with fear.

The man pressed the utility belt over her mouth and then pulled it tight around the back of her head, wrapping it around once more before snapping the buckle into place. The womans eyes widened with fear as what was perhaps her final ability to protest was removed. She breathed in the thick odor of rubber and leather as he leaned over her.

He lifted the baton from the table and she tensed instantly, the chair almost jumping out from under her. She shook her head because it was all she could do.

Her clothes were torn in places but still intact. One-handed, he ripped her blouse from her, then her skirt and he smiled when he saw that she wore no underwear. Little scars and bruises decorated her pale skin. He touched her thigh just above her knee with the cool tip of the baton and she jumped as if she had been struck by it. Moved it up her quivering leg.

Her eyes were firmly closed now, whatever whimpers or noises she might make smothered by the belt around her head. She felt the broad shaft of the baton nuzzling between her legs and shifted in the chair in a pointless attempt to get away. It parted her further then pressed at her pubic bone.

The sensation disappeared and for a moment everything was still.

Then suddenly the chair she was tied to was grabbed and she was tipped forwards violently, her body slamming against the old wood of the table, breath blasted from her. She looked back in time to see the man raise the baton high above his head and swing it down in a single, violent motion and she cried out through the belt as the chair was shattered and for a moment it felt like it was her spine that was being broken.

The man chopped away at the remaining fragments of the chair, kicking them away as they fell to the floor. All that was left were the rods of the armrests and uprights that she was chained to and a single plank of wood that held it all in place.

She lay slumped face-first over the table, unable to turn or move because of the restraints, her body held in a slight curl so that her exposed backside was presented to him in the stark light. She made unidentifiable noises through the gag.

He hit her with the baton, gently, across one buttock. He waited for her body to relax again before he hit the other one. Then he adjusted her positioning slightly, centering her more against him, raising her.

He parted her buttocks with one gloved hand then slid a finger along her labia, spreading her moisture along their lengths. The finger went inside, moved around. Holding her lips apart with thumb and forefinger, he touched the end of the baton to her.

The woman jerked away but he had a hold of the remains of the chair with his free hand and held her firmly in place. Inserted the baton an inch inside her, out again, in again. The woman bucked but couldnt do anything more. He pressed it in further with each subsequent thrust, twisting it slightly as it moved in, twisting it back again as it came back out.

He used the moisture that now coated the implement to soften her anus, to coat it and once again she began to buck. This time he let her, for a few moments, before he struck her with the baton across the buttocks then shoved it inside her again.

He left it there as he turned her onto her back, breaking one of the wooden rods so that he could maneuver her bondage to one side and so that her legs were bent at the knees and spread.

Her eyes were open once more and she was staring straight at him as he unzipped himself. Placed a thickly gloved hand on each of her knees. Moved down her thighs, towards the baton still lodged inside her. She managed to get herself onto one elbow as he lifted her legs higher, onto his armor-plated shoulders. He took her buttocks in his hands and raised her enough that his erection was pressing at her anus, knocking against the protruding end of the baton.

She shook her head, droplets of sweat flying off of her and her entire body clenched when he penetrated her. He began to fuck her, holding her off of the table with one hand and moving the baton inside her with the other. It felt like her entire abdomen was slowly filling with him, jostling around inside her. The smooth film between her vagina and rectum was firmly massaged by the end of the baton and his thrusting became faster.

He reached towards her and she drew away, but he grabbed her hair and pulled her head closer to him, then took her neck and began to squeeze. Fucking her and squeezing her neck.

He was staring right at her as he did so and she stared straight back.

The intensity of the feeling inside her kept growing and she felt as if she was filled with movement, as if an entire group of men were fucking her. She still struggled against the chains, but she knew now that there was no point in resisting, there was nothing she could do. She was exhausted, sore...