Amiga ISO Collection/AmigaDemoCD2.iso/ASCII/TEXTE/SEX/ADULTSHARE/C/CINDYRVG.TXT

Text File | 1991-06-13 | 23.3 KB | 346 lines

cindyrvg.txt
                            Cindy's Turnabout

        I've just recently read the infamous "Cindy's Torment" and suddenly
many things that were previously mysteries in my life have become clear, and,
more importantly, the need to tell what happened later becomes apparent.
        You see, I lived in the same building as Cindy (I'll keep the same
pseudonym for her as the Tormentor did) and therefore became wrapped up in the
events chronicled before.
        I'd met Cindy and we had become, not really friends since we did not
know each other very well, but we knew each other and were friendly, saying
"Hi" when we passed each other in the building or on the street, and sometimes
when she would have to go out in the evening I would walk her to the bus stop
and wait with her until the bus arrived.  I did this for a few women in the
building since they all knew I was "safe" (being homosexual) and since I
presented a detering figure on the street at night, being a dark skinned black
man almost 6'6" who had gone partially through college on a football
scholarship (until I blew out a knee).  But I still keep in shape since
I think myself most attractive when I'm muscular and low on body fat.
        Anyway, I remember one night that Cindy was quite nervous when I walked
her to the bus stop, but she wouldn't say why, rather she told me merely that
she was going to work late to "catch up on some things."  I know the truth
now-- and I understand what happened later.
        I didn't see Cindy for a couple of weeks after that night, I guess she
was recouperating from her abuse at the hands of-- let's call him--John.
Then I began to see her around the building again, but she acted differently,
kind of hardened, like some second hand aquantances after a trip into prison.
She would still ask me to escort her at night, but she didn't jump at shadows
like she had before.
        And then one night she came to my door with an odd look in her eye.
        "Hey, Cindy, what can I do for ya?  Headin' out?" I asked, expecting an
average little trip to the corner.
        "Chuck," she said, a tinge of conspiracy in her voice, "I want to ask
you a favor."
        "What would that be?"
        "Can I come in?" she asked and I showed her to my beat up old couch in
the living room.
        "Are you very squeamish, Chuck?" she asked, leaning forward a bit with
very, VERY cold eyes.
        "Uh, not exactly," I said, "I used to hang with some trouble makin'
kind of guys-- before I went to college and woke up.  I've seen some things."
        "Well, would you, could you help me in something, and then promise not
to tell anyone, ever?"
        "Depends on what it is."
        "It's revenge, Chuck, revenge."  And for a moment that little sliver of
a Chinese woman scared the hell out of me.  I've never before or since heard a
voice so flat, so cold, so completely without human emotion.  I hope to hell I
never do!
        "I, uh, well-- is revenge the right thing, whatever it's for?"
        "Yes.  It is the only thing."  I believed her, and agreed to help.  And
I don't know exactly why; maybe because I thought that whatever would
move this formerly sweet little woman to such an emotion-- or LACK or
emotion-- was something that I should move against; maybe because I was
intrigued and less civilized than I like to say I am; maybe because her eyes
said that I could easily be next on her list.
        Little did I know what I would end up doing that night.
        She told me thanks and then told me to meet her at her apartment in
about half an hour, and to dress non-descriptly in something easy-fitting.
She left and I went and put on some sweat pants left from my college days and
the loosest t-shirt I owned, which wasn't very loose but it didn't fit like
second skin like most of my T's.
        I went down at the time she'd said and knocked on her door.  She
answered quickly and then had me pick up what would be a large bag for her but
which became unnoticable next to me.  Then we move out to the bus stop, caught
the bus and took it to where she used to work, and to where John still had an
office.
        She had a key to the front door and let us in.  We went up to John's
office and as we walked down the hall towards the door at the end with the
light coming out from underneath it I couldn't help but wonder what had
occured here that would call for the kind of revenge Cindy had implied would
be happening that night.  Cindy didn't knock on the door but instead just
walked in, shoving the door so that it slammed against the wall banging
loudly and almsot sending the man sitting behind the desk through the
ceiling.
        "You're here," he said, sucking the last out of his cigarette and
shoving it into the large pile of butts in his ashtray.
        "Yes," she said, "are you ready to pay the price to silence me?"
        "You haven't told me what it is," he said.
        "Yes," she said walking up to the desk and leaning over it a bit, "I
have.  The price is tonight.  The price is submission.  The price is whatever
shall come to my mind before dawn.  THAT is the price."  He just stared at
her, and sweated.  "Will you pay, or should I mail something this evening?"
        "I'll pay, I'll pay," he said, dropped his head a bit and looked at me,
"What's with the nigger?" he asked.
        And I thought to myself, "Yes, you'll pay."
        "Insurance that you do as I say," she said, and then began the payment:
"Now get undressed."  He stood up and began to take off his clothes while she
shoved everything off of his desk.  Then she took the bag from me and pulled
out some lengths of rope from it.  We waited for John to finished undressing
then she ordered him to lie on the desk with his shoulder on the edge of it
and his head sticking off and his feet just barely extending off of the other
end.  He was not unattractive and not at all un-endowed and I was already
begining to be aroused when Cindy told me to tie down his arms while she tied
his feet.  Now, he was lying on his back and I had him extend his arms
straight out from his shoulders.  His elbows were just past the edges of the
desk, so I had him bend his arms so that his forearms ran parallel to the
desk, then I tied the ropes to one wrist, down and around the legs of the
desk and back up to his other wrist.  Then using a little rope trick I know
I jerked the rope taunt, pulling his forearms down and making his shoulders
jerk up from the table in pain.
        "Jesus!" he said.
        "Blasphemy," I said, and planted my large palm in the middle of his
chest and put all of my weight on him, pushing his shoulders back against the
table and his joint to the limit.  He grunted in pain, and just then Cindy
grabbed my arm and pulled it off of him.
        "In a bit," she said, "first I have other things."  And I noticed
through her shirt and her lack of a bra that she was already becoming excited,
as I, and anyone with an observant eye, knew I was.  I glance at John on the
desk and I noted that he was distinctly NOT aroused.  But Cindy went to
work on
that.
        "First I should like a little direct pleasure she said and, pulling off
her shirt, kicking off her shoes and stripping off her jeans (and showing that

she had worn no underwear) came over to me.  "A bit of help?" she asked.
        "Of course," I said, leaning forward a bit so that she could put her
arms around my neck, then lifting her up by her waist.  She gripped my side
with her knees, and if I was that kind of guy I should have been bursting my
sweats.  But instead I calmly moved over and lowered her cunt onto Johns face
as she said "You know what to do."  From the way Cindy began to smile I guess
he did.  I don't know if I could have held Cindy, as slight as she was, there
very long, but I didn't have to since she apparently had other plans.  After a
moment or two she whispered to me, "Is he hard yet?"
        And suprisingly he was.  I'm not sure even if I was straight if I would
have been that excited even though I was tied up at and antagonists mercy just
because a cunt was stuck on my face, but John definately was.  I nodded an
affirmative to Cindy, adding, "He's saluting-- and not too badly."
        She said, "Put me down," so I did, and while a surprised John watched
wet-lipped, she skittered over to the back and dug out something that she kept
hidden from John and me and then back over to the desk.  John was getting a
little worried again and was begining to droop, but Cindy leaned over, and
popped his dick in her mouth like a pop-cicle and he quickly firmed back up.
And even though he repulsed me mentally, I found myself wondering longingly
what he tasted like.  What it would fell like to run his large head across my
teeth and into my mouth and along the roof of my mouth like and over-sized
lollipop.  But my mental imagery was cut short by what Cindy did.
        As she suck visciously as John's dick I caught a glimpse of what she
was holding too low for him to see.  It was a length of wire and some pliers.
As I watched her form the wire into a U, and then reached up and slipped it
around his visibly throbbing cock.  Pulling her mouth off, she twisted
the ends of the wire together and then put the pliers on them and began
twisting the circle of wire tighter and tighter trapping all the blood in
his dick.
        "Hey, what the hell are you doing?" he screamed.
        "Shut up," stopping for a moment and placing the center of his scrotum
in the pliers and gently squeezing, "say anything else and I'll get the metal
cutters."  And she said it so matter of factly that I myself began to droop a
little.  But John couldn't.  Even though by his face I know his body wanted to
pull back into it's hole like a scared mouse, he stayed hard as a rock because
the blood couldn't get out of his cock.  In fact, it seemed to be growing a
bit as more blood flowed in but none flowed out.  But he didn't say a word.
        Cindy bent the ends of the metal down so that they poked into his thigh
and then went back to the bag.  She pulled out a bottle and went to the end of
the table, placed it flat on the desk between his thighs, raised the pliers up
high then brought them down in a smashing arc on the bottle, which shattered.
        I watched his face, and when the pliers had begun their down swing he
had looked a little worried, but when she broke the bottle he seemed relieved,
thinking perhaps that she had done it merely for effect.  She hadn't.
        Grabbing him with the pliers again she "coaxed" him to raise his waist
into the air and inch of so, then carefully pushed the shards of glass
underneath his ass, while I murmured to myself "What a waste."
        She let go of him, but he remained arched for obvious reasons, with
that luscious dick topping him like some kind of obscene flag.  She climbed up
onto the table and straddled him just forward of his dick, then leaned forward
so that her breast and their scarred nipples just barely brushed his chest.
"Fun, isn't it?" she said, and gripped his right nipple as hard as she could
with the pliers, reached down with her other hand and aimed him into herself.
She slid back onto to his discolouring member and leaned back up, throwing her
weight against the piers and his elongating nipple, while at the same time
dropping her weight onto his waist.  His butt dropped enough to get a feel of
the longer shards making him jerk back upwards, which merely made Cindy move
farther from his nipple.  He started to scream but stiffled it into a growl.
Cindy just moved herself up and down on his dick trapped in an erection,
letting her body meet his with all her force.  He started to sweat with effort
almost immediatly and as Cindy continued to bounce on him like some kind of toy
horse, his butt kept moving closer and closer to the table, every once in a
while tasting a little sharp glass and making him thrust up into Cindy aven
harder than she was coming down.
        This went on for some time, but even though Cindy smiled as she jerked
on the pliers and watched him flinch, her breathing didn't seem to aquire that
rythm and depth that tells of coming climax.  I figured she needed something
more to help her, and besides, I was getting bored, so I moved to the head of
the desk and grabbed his hair tight with one hand while untying my sweats
with the other.  He had the deepest look of fear I had ever seen up until
that night in his eyes, but I lost sight of his eyes as I jerked his head down
until it was a straight line from his mouth into his throat and farther.  I
pulled out my already hard cock and aimed it into his mouth.  At first he
refused to open up and accept me, but I leaned forward and gave a little push
down on his chest,  threatoning to pop his shoulders out of joint again and he
opened up, but wide.
        Slowly, as Cindy watched me smiling and breathing heavier and heavier.
I slowly slid all that I could of myself into just his mouth and told him,
"Suck like a pro, dammit."
        And for someone who acted like he'd never done it before, he did.
        As I slowly rocked myself forward and back moving my dick in and out of
his moist, warm, sucking mouth, I could feel the smooth insides of his teeth
and the rough surface of his tongue against it.  As I sped up, and breathed
heavier, so did Cindy.  Our eyes locked and hers reflected that mix of anger,
control and pleasure that I'm sure shown in mine and we began to breath in
unison.
        She moved up, and I moved back; she dropped down, with a slap of skin
against skin, and I pushed in with a little gag as I pushed against his throat.
Up, out; down, in.  Faster and faster harder and harder until in an incredable
streak of timing, it all happened.
        Cindy seemed to be about to come, and I felt like I was going to
explode.  She rose up and I pulled back, and as she came down and rammed into
John, his muscles finally gave out, his ass slamming into the broken glass,
making his throat try to scream, which just opened it up for my deepest stroke
yet which penetrate into his throat even as I began to spurt into it.  I
grabbed his chin and held his head to me as I sent the fluid of my pleasure
down into him, and at the same time Cindy grimaced and jerked up and down on
him, grinding the glass into his ass.
        But no screams, just muffled gurgles.
        I pulled out having achieved what I wanted, and eased down onto the
floor as Cindy rolled off of John.  He just layed there and spat out what he
could of my come and tried not to cry as tears rolled down his forehead. Cindy
crawled over to me and and lay down, her breath slowly returning to a normal
rate.
        "So, you got what you came for?" I asked her.
        "No," she said, looking up at me, that anger still burning in her eyes,
"Not in the least."  She looked down at my dick.  "Do you feel up for some
more?" she asked.
        "With him?" I said remembering what he had looked like when he first
disrobed-- in shape and firm.  "Yeah, I am."
        So we both stood back up and I pulled off my sweats completely.  We
went around to the end of the table and untied his left leg.  Then we pulled it
up towards his face as far as we could and tied it around the knee.  Then we
untied his right leg and pulled it forward and tied it similarly so that his
gouged and bleeding ass was lifted about three inches off the table.  Cindy
wiped the broken glass that hadn't stuck in his flesh from the table and wiped
off most of the blood too.  Then she went and pulled this weird thing out of
the bag.
        It was a circle of plywood about a foot in radius, with a good sized
hole in the center which had a rubber gasket around it.  On one side a piece of
paper had been glued and large white crystals had been glued or something to
the paper.  She handed it to me and I touched a wet finger to the crystals then
to my mouth.
        "Salt," I said.
        "Yes," she said, and then explained, "Stick yourself through the hole,
and then through him."  She pointed to his abused behind.  And I smiled.
        I climbed up on the table and ran my finger along his spread crack.
"Ever had a man?" I asked him.
        He just muttered something like, "God no," and I saw his anal muscle
clench a little bit.  I gently took one of the shards of glass still stuck in
him between two of my fingers and slowly turned it 90 degrees.  And he
half-squealed, half-groaned his pain, I became hard and I donned the collar
Cindy had so 'thoughtfully' brought.  Sliding forward so that my thighs pushed
along the sides of his back I brought myself up to him, and placing my other
head against his still clenching hole I began pushing.  As I moved myself
forward with all the might my weight-lifting gave me I rocked a little from
side to side, to help the penetration and my stimulation.
        When I entered him and began questing into his dinner of two days ago,
he said nothing, but as I moved in so deep that my collar and it's salt coating
began to grind into his wounds he cried out.
        "That's what I'm here for," I said, and began to push the collar
against the jagged cuts and punctures, and to move my hips in a circle, making
my dick rock around inside him.  As his breath hissed faster and faster past
his locked jaw, I pushed harder and harder against him and moved deeper into
him.  I could feel the warm of his body around mine and I could feel his
breathing against my thighs, and as I went I could feel the blood that was
collecting on my collar dripping off onto the insides of my thighs, cool now
that it had been seperated from his body.  I grabbed onto him, in the brease
his thighs made as they push against his stomach, and I pulled him to me and
pushed as far into him as I could go.  The blood was streaming off the collar
now as I drove the shards of glass that had already been inbedded in his flesh
even farther into him.  And as I ground the collar and it's slat into those
wounds he broke and cried out and I came, shooting my cum up into him.
        I pulled myself out of him and pulled off the bloody collar and tossed
it to the floor.  I sat on the end of the table for a moment with my eyes
closed, reveling in the flashes that had just been sent through my body. "Sweet
Jesus," I said, and opened my eyes looking for Cindy.
        I discovered her coming towards me with a light bulb in her hand.
"What's that for?" I asked.
        "Him," she said and pushed me out of the way.  I slid off the side of
the table, stumbled a bit, then gained my balance and stood off to the side.
        She went up to his face and stuck hers in it.  "How're you feeling?
How do you think *I* felt?"  He just looked at her-- I would say his eyes were
full of fear, but they had been that been that way so long that they almost
appered blank to me, since I had never seen them any other way.  He never
answered her, so she moved down to his blood-coated ass and rubbed a knuckl in
his asshole.  Then she took the fat end of the light-bulb and put it against
the hole and then shoved against it violently.  It plunged into him with the
slightest sucking sound.
        Then I noticed that the bulb was in an outlet and that it was plugged
in.
        "Such fun for all, isn't it?" she said and turned the switch turning
the bulb on.  The skin right around his anus began to glow red, and at first I
wondered what the point was.  But as the bulb began to heat and John began to
groan, I got the point.  As the bulb got hotter and hotter, he began to squirm,
and then to jerk, as if he might be able to force the bulb out.
        I guess he never thought of taking a shit.
        I moved closer, and I swear I thought I could smell meat cooking.  Then
John went once again and he screamed, "God turn it off!"
        "Do you want me to put the light out?" asked Cindy.
        "Yes!  Now!"
        So she raised her pliers up in the air and brought them down with all
her might right above his anus, smashing the bulb while it was still inside
him, shorting the filament with his insides.  He screamed again, and Cindy cut
his legs loose.  John, a bit overcome, let his legs and backside slam against
the table, and screamed again.
        Then I noticed his formerly wonderful rod.  It had been wired up so
long now that it had become purple and splotchy and over swelled.  It reminded
me of a bad sausage gone even badder.  While I agonized over the change Cindy
jerked the cord that now ran from John's ass, out from the wall.  Then she went
into the bag and pulled out another length of wire.
        This one she wrapped just beneath the ridge that was the end of his
other head, and twisted it even tighter than the first.  John pulled his head
up to watch what she was doing.  As she put the pliers to the original wire and
began to loosen it a relieved look crossed his face.
        I guess he forgot that the lack of blood had deadened his nerves.
        And that fresh blood would bring them back to life.
        But he learned it first hand very quickly, as his jaw clenched again,
and his arms twitched convulsively to grab for himself.
        Cindy made a loop in the twisted together ends of the wire, and then
tied a length of rope to it, in the most complex knot I'd ever seen.  She
climbed on the table and ran the rope over the support between two ceiling
tiles.  Then she pulled on the rope until his now flaccid dick was stretched
perfectly vertical, topped by the still erect head, looking like a grotesque
mushroom.  Then she tied off the top end of the rope in another highly complex

knot.
        "Come on," she said, jumping off the table and scrambling into her
clothes.  "Let's go."  She stuffed everything back into the bag, including the
pliers.  As I pulled on my sweats she cut the ropes holding his arm, grabbed
the cord and jerked it.  It popped out from ass, getting one final little
scream from him.  Then we left.
        As we headed back to the bus, I asked her, "Is that all you wanted?"
        "You did not see it all," she said.
        "Huh?"
        "Consider for a moment how he's going to get the rope untied.  And the
wire.  In case you didn't notice I took his clothes.  How is a naked man going
to ask someone for a pair of pliers to untie his penis?  After that, how is he
going to explain his burned anus with a shattered light bulb in it?  And the
broken glass?  And the rope burns?
        "John never thought that far ahead.  He didn't realize that the torture
did not truely come til after the act.  That it isn't until you seek help and
must explain what has been done that that pain really begins."
        And what she didn't realize is that when they operate on his colon,
someone is going to note the semen contained within, and that despite the people
out there working for tolerance, 'homosexual' is a word that can truely haunt
someone forever.
        So John got his turnabout, and it will last much longer than that one
night, and it will dig much deeper into him than that glass or I.
        And I don't think that that's a bad thing.