European Nightmare Part V - Sex Stories

European Nightmare Part V

... brushed the nub of her clit. With a tenderness belying his intentions, he gently massaged it, knowing that despite herself her body would react. The pain from Holly’s crotch began to lessen for the clips attached to her pussy lips had soon reduced the blood supply to her sensitive cunt which is why all she felt now was a dull ache. That was until she felt the finger running along her sex from the bottom to the top and the hood housing her clitoris. The finger was quite sensual, as if it bore no relation to the man who had abused, raped and tortured her. In contrast to her past treatment, the light touch was almost pleasurable and if her body were not racked with pain, she would certainly have enjoyed Mehmet’s gentle massage of her sensitive clit. As the rubbing continued, Holly closed her eyes and tried to enjoy it, knowing these brief moments of pleasure were few and far between. It was a feeling she had thought no longer existed for her, the warming tingle spreading from her crotch and eventually filling her entire body. She had felt it many times by her own hand when lying in bed and for just a moment, even with all the suffering she had endured, she could picture herself back there. Yet even in this chamber of horrors, Holly could not have imagined how swiftly this pleasure would turn to pain. In a heartbeat the soothing glow at her crotch turned into a cauldron of white hot searing agony, the hands stopped cupping her face, her eyes opened wide and her screams echoed ...

... from the stone walls. Mehmet smirked as the vicious teeth of a tiny crocodile clip bit into the girl’s engorged throbbing clit. He had massaged it until it stood proud at the top of her sex, peeking out from beneath its hood with its usual dumb expectancy. He had aroused many women in his time, seeing this very sight often, but it was not until recently that he had used his skill to hurt those he pleasured. Yet he certainly liked it, the scream of the bitch music to his ears. He had not always been this way. Growing up, he had always tried to respect women although of course his good looks had kept him constantly in demand. It was only on coming to Munich, scraping by at that godforsaken bar with drunken bitches crawling all over him that his terse attitude toward them as well as his ability to attract them had first caught the eye of this strange woman. He recalled his first experience at this castle, watching a young woman's beautiful face contorted not in pleasure but in agony. It was a grotesque, stomach churning sight. Yet he could not take his eyes away. He hadn’t slept for days after, tossing and turning as the images ran riot through his mind. He had considered going to the authorities to tell them about the terrible things he had seen but in reality he knew things would never be the same. He not only could not forget the girl’s beautiful pain filled eyes but wanted to see them repeated. In the tortured scream of this new bitch, he felt he had found his true calling in ...