The Director of Buenos-aries pt3

The director adjusted the focus on his camera. The room was stifling hot and it seemed like the white tiled walls were dripping as much sweat at the bodies of the three men and their nubile suspended prisoner.

He could hear the street chatter through the skylight, but knew her screams would not travel the other way. Below in his home the director’s wife continued to play the TV on full volume the dull thud coming up between his feet. The neighbours might complain but it wouldn’t be about the screaming.

He adjusted his black hood so he could see clearly down the viewfinder.

Lara was looking fantastic. Now stretched to attention arms above her head tied to the suspended manacles she looked much taller. Her figure was like a coke bottle in its curvaceous elegance, great hips and now that big heaving chest in all its glory. While fucking her doggie her tits had hung like two prize fruits, hard and swaying. But now they stood as erect beautiful glistening domes her pink teats like those on a baby’s feeding bottle, big and rubbery. The perspiration on her body had turned her from English rose to sultry bronze, her breasts covered in rivulets of sweat down to her toned tummy.

She was trying to wriggle free doing a sexy dance on tip toe her hips swaying knees together to help raise her body a fraction more. But it was pointless, she was trussed well and even if she collapsed her body would slump but a few inches from the vertical and she would just sway there like a meat carcass.

Lara felt like a human toy hung on some giant kids bedroom. The black hooded men looked ridiculous and horrific at the same time. There was the fat hairy director with his string vest, his accomplice the Yank with the glistening aging power lifter body and finally the runt of the pack, the brother. He looked more agitated; his hood making him twitch or was it something else, fear, bravado or even insanity?

Only a few hours ago she was planning on meeting a charismatic handsome Kiwi guide for a jungle adventure. But some how she’d arrived here in this hellhole. A world she never dreamed existed. A world of debauched life and underground rape movies!

“Oh God no please I’ve done what you wanted,” she gulped trying to reason. But the three masked men seemed impervious to her pleas. The scenes they’d already recorded made her nauseous with humiliation. But it was getting worse and worse as they continued, the abyss of filth and degradation sucking her deeper and deeper.

Her blonde hair was stuck to her face and hanging bedraggled about her neck and rampant tits. The position of her arms pulled above her head had thrust her melons out making a Barbie style figurine.

She shook her head and looked left and right at plan tiled walls for some hope of escape. In front of her the next game was about to start and she was horrified.

“Oh no no no!” She was ranting her eyes looking wild like a cornered animal. “Not the leads!”

“Oh God why? Please why me?”

Her ridiculous question remained unanswered. Innocent or not she didn’t need to ask what they had planned next and all this desperate pleading was just adding to the evil mans movie.

The Yank came closer his big tattooed armed holding her waist steady allowing the younger man; the directors drug fuelled brother to do his thing.

The brother had the silver spring-tensioned nipple clamps in his hands. He was using his thumbs to make both open like snapping beaks of some mechanical bird. The yellow cables hung down from each metal device until they finally snaked into the leather-encased black box on the floor. The transformer.

“Be still bitch! “ He demanded the Yanks fingers biting into her hips his hands almost able to touch around her waist. Lara was shaking her head the snapping beaks getting closer.

“No please don’t you oh no, no, no!” The brother was focusing on his job

Snap!

Snap!

The metal clamps bit tight on her big teats Lara making a yelp as a double sting of sensation shot from her breast tips. The spring locked clamps gripped unyieldingly her nipple distended the pink nuts bloated the areolas turning blue with the restriction of blood.

“Oh Jesus!” She wailed gyrating her hips her tits swinging with their cables bonded nipples.

“The jelly,” the experienced filmmaker said coaching the others, “make sure you spread it on thick.”

Lara grunted and squealed the clamps biting; the young brother applying the conducting gel onto her big points the stuff like axel grease. Lara’s neck was straining as she tried to pull away. But it was useless.

“No no noooooooo!” She begged her big expressive eyes looking down in horror as he carefully applied the gel.

“We don’t want your nipples to explode,” the brother goaded through his mask his demented exited eyes telling her differently. His fingers cupped her heaving tits so he could check his handy work; both were securely wired, greased and ready.

“Oh baby you’re such a big succulent girl.”

He slavered his mouth hole oozing saliva. It looked like his drug abuse had begun to catch up with him; surely lust couldn’t produce that much drool?

“Time to cook your lovely fruits.” He declared.

The Yank pointed to the dial on the black box lid. It was numbered 1 to 4 around the circumference.

”Let see those jugs take some punishment.” He drawled his American accent clearer and seeming more surreal than the other Latino ranting.

“At max you’ll pass out!” He added. “You’d best talk before then.”

She scoffed in a condescending manner. “Talk? What? I don’t ugggg!”

She felt the slap of the brother’s hand.

“Talk like a whore,” the little bastard said putting his hand upon the dial. ”We want to record your filthy confession.”

“Confession?” Lara opened her mouth about to tell him to fuck off and …

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!

The power surged up the wires to the metal teeth. Lara felt her nipples stiffen her whole breast harden then her body begin to flex involuntarily the sensation like nothing she’d ever imagined.

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

Her mouth made a cute oval her legs prancing like a puppet on a rope.

In a moment it was over and she had time to give a painful yelp. Her sweet cry lagged behind the surge of power like thunder after lightning.

Her body was an avalanche of perspiration the skin on her tits so taut she thought she was made of stretched rubber. She was swinging on the manacles like in a gale the men taking time to record her desperate attempts at release.

“Take deep breaths,” the director said and she spluttered at his schoolteacher style.

“Oh heavens no,” her mind screamed,” it’s time for a lesson on the limits of perversion and I’m the student.”

“This is were you help us finish the movie.” The director added.

“An intelligent girl like you can remember a few lines.” Continued the Yank.

“I want her to make her own filthy cum loving words first.” Finished the brother and she stared in anger back at him and in a high school mistress tone she snapped a reply.

“You filthy little man how dare you…”

Immediately dial turned again this time to 2 and Lara felt her breasts inflate her spine convulse her ass fart as she jerked on her rope. Her tits thrust out the clamps fizzing, the electricity feeling like two silicone implants of power trying to expand out of her body.

He held the power on longer and she gave a scream of despair her neck straining her body so tense it looked like it would snap like a twig.

Then the torment was gone again.

The camera caught the image as the power subsided Lara’s body dropping limp her mouth coughing; her hair in her mouth as she gasped. The sweat was like a coat of varnish all over her body, her knees bent inwards feet wriggling like some after shock.

“Please!” she moaned. “I don’t know what to say.”

The brother put his hand on the dial again

“No! “ She screamed. “Ok! Ok! I’m a fucking whore!”

The big Yank laughed, he was still naked his hand toying with his limp cock.

“Go on,” the brother said.

There was a pause Lara unsure…

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!

“Three!” called out the Brother in obvious delight.

Her tits felt like needles had been pushed into them her breast almost glowing.