European Nightmare Part VI - Sex Stories

European Nightmare Part VI

... fourth strike and listened to another piercing shriek in the theatre of screams. When he had seen the little teen, his cock had stiffened but now, watching Greta beat the girl so brutally, he felt annoyed. He had brought quite a few women here but since meeting her in the bar three nights ago, he could not get Olivia out of his head. Before talking to the three teens, the men decided to take them to the castle and so he’d convinced himself he wasn’t interested in what they said when she chatted on with a reckless easy-to-listen-to abandon. Though supposedly scouting them, he had found himself drawn to the little blonde. It hadn’t stopped him raping or hurting her but for some reason he didn’t quite understand, watching Greta crash another fierce blow on the girl’s pubes created a strange anger. He felt this one his; he had found her and only he should do this to her. Still, he knew his duty and if he interrupted Greta while she was working, well, he wasn’t sure what would happen but he didn’t care to find out. And so he stood watching as the sight of Olivia’s beautiful pink pussy stirred his lust once again. In a world of pain, Olivia wasn’t thinking of Mehmet at all. The excruciating stretching of her legs was now joined by the baton’s rhythmic pounding whose force felt great enough to shatter bones. Pulled up by her hair, she had to watch each sickening blow. If she hadn’t felt the pain she wouldn’t have thought it was her. The situation was so unbelievable she still ...

... subconsciously hoped it was all some awful dream, that she’d wake in a hospital having been spiked but safe. But these actions were real, real pain, real humiliation and real cruelty. As another blow slammed into her and another chunk fell away, the wax was now only strips criss-crossing her hips, streams running down her body and two plugs in her arse and cunt. Greta ran the tip of the baton over her two holes, tapping each one lightly. Watching in sheer terror, Olivia waited for the next terrible torture, imagining the baton being rammed deep into her. But Greta had something else in mind and put it down. “There we go,” Greta’s voice contrasted cheerily with Olivia’s misery, “that was not so bad, was it? Now, you cannot work with all those wax streaks so you are going upstairs. Time to get you up.” Greta pointed and Mehmet edged round to the cuffs binding her ankles. Pushing down on her calves, they undid the buckles strapping her feet to the table. Pushing up desperately, Olivia’s stretched legs tried to return to a natural position but her tormentors held them. On release, her legs swung round, slamming her heels into the hard wood. Again she screamed, first at the impact and then at the excruciating pain of her agonisingly stretched legs resuming to their normal position. By the time Greta undid her strapped arms and then the band holding her forehead, her screams had died to intermittent sobs. Mehmet then scooped the small girl off the table, tossed her over a shoulder like a ...