• Author - Brutalhawk
  • Rating -   
  • Site Rank - 2335 of 2955
  • Story Codes - F-f, M-f, MF-f, non-consensual, bondage, breathplay, extreme, snuff, torture, violent
  • Post Date - 8/5/2014

The eagle has landed...

It felt like she was that bird. She was grounded all right. But not on the moon, although she felt like in heaven. The sun was great. It was warm in the white sand. She smiled to herself. She didn't care if she wasn't an eagle. He was. Her adored husband. Her master. He was like a predatory eagle, always slowly circling around her, and then.... it was more than sufficient for her.

But for now he had gone shopping and let her be on her own. For the time being at least. So now Elisa was something like a free bird. Or so it felt.

Half dozing she let her book fall into the sand next to her. They were too bizarre, too surreal for her taste, these stories of Kafka. And anyway, she was too lazy to read. So she looked around. Nobody. Nobody to see her nakedness. Nobody to see the slave collar with his name tag on it, which she wore so proudly. The place was deserted. But on a private beach, that's no surprise.

Somewhere behind a strange deserted building, she was. It loomed dark and somewhat threatening, although she could not figure out why. Maybe because she had found it odd that it should bear such a weird name. "The haunted house", or "-tree," or something like that (there was a single tree standing next to it). She couldn't quite remember exactly. But she wasn't really interested.

She let a hand dwell between her thighs. What did she care? She was fee wasn't she? No one around. The beach abandoned. And she felt so good. She rubbed her fingers over her pleasure bud and, her arousal rising, closed her eyes.

Voices. Suddenly there were voices. Several. Male and female. In bewildered astonishment she saw a bizarre row of naked people file out of that strange building, like children leaving school, or like a moving row of overgrown puppets. Some of the walls of the building noiselessly crumbled down behind them. In eerie silence it turned to ruins. Stunned Elisa's yaw dropped open as she watched the unbelievable scene.

Before she had regained her wits, a large young woman, stark naked, filed out from the row of nude people and came to her, shading the sun from her eyes. "Lady, you are trespassing," she said. She looked like a dark haired witch with bulbous breasts. Standing above her, like a giantess, she added: "You are on private grounds here, madam." Elisa, suddenly felt awfully embarrassed, like a child caught doing forbidden things. She wanted to apologize. But one of the naked men made her swallow her words, as he cried out loudly waving his arms high over his head.

It shocked Elisa, and red warning lights began to flicker all around her. But before she could get up in the loose sand, grab her towel, and make a run for it, someone else cried out too. Now other voices joined and she was grabbed by her wrists. She barely had time to find out what happened, as she was towed backward across the beach, struggling fiercely, her feet kicking up clouds of hot sand.

Fear made her see her captors, sharp against the sky: males and females, many of them. They were all stark naked, and very good looking, healthy, sexy even, and strong bodied. Violently strong, she thought, more than she would ever be able to resist. Then, in the cool shade of that tree, close to the ruined building, she was thrown backwards, flat into the sand. A sturdy guy kneeled down behind her. He took a firm hold on her wrists, and pressed them forcefully into the warm ground above her head. The others looked greedily upon her helpless nakedness, grinning as if they were large predator birds and she their live prey to devour.

She wanted to yell at them to stop this, to let her go. But her voice failed, as in one of those nightmares she so often had. Well, no one would be listening to cries for help any way. To the contrary, a lean boy and a frail young woman clawed at her body with long nailed fingers. Elisa gave them a ferocious glare, trying to kick them with both legs, her arms still being held. But it was too little too late.

She panicked, but suddenly she wrestled her hands free. Scrambling on to her knees she screamed silently, trying to hide her breasts and her surprisingly moist groin behind her hands. But she did not hold out for long. They all grabbed at those shielding hands, and pried them away from the most intimate female delicacies, forcing her to show them everything she had.

Big pink swollen nipples and lusciously wobbling breasts danced before her eyes. And so did many horrible male erections. But she was powerless. Someone pulled on her hair, and many voices began to jubilate. She understood what they wanted. They wanted her to open her mouth! A sudden association flashed through her mind: giving head to her man, to the master she belonged to. She swooned in hesitation. Before her eyes, a huge erect penis, a strange red-veined one, like a dark knout, took the light away from her, while at the same time, many hands pried her mouth wide agape.

Elisa tried to protest, to resist. But those hands hurt terribly, and someone painfully pinched her nose, blocking off her air. She had to give in. No choice. Immediately a hard, smelly penis was pushed into her mouth, sliding in all the way, until it was stopped by her throat and by reeking hairy balls, squashing against her chin. With all her might she tried to dislodge the thing, to free her face. But her head was held firmly in place. She retched and wanted to vomit, only to find she couldn't. Her mouth and throat were filled so completely, they left no room for anything else. The thing ejaculated... Elisa thought she would die.

But she didn't.

It stayed in her mouth for a surprisingly long time, copiously pulsing thick seed into the depth of her throat, so deep it even came out of her nose. When it finally became softer and retracted, she thought she was being given respite. Everyone around her laughed. She swallowed, coughed and gasped for air. She felt horribly sick, slime covering her face.

They threw her back into the sand. Once more her hands were pushed into the sand above her.

And immediately another dark shadow enveloped her. Suddenly a huge amount of prickly flesh, full of wet unsavoury folds, landed on her face, making a smacking sound. A woman had seated herself upon her, closing off her mouth and nose, cutting off her breath. Elisa almost blacked out as the woman above her convulsed and orgasmed, crying out her lust in a wild triumph.

When she finally got off Elisa, leaving her soiled face smeared with more glistening moisture, a big hard-muscled male body threw itself heavily upon her. And before she knew what happened, the man speared himself straight into the secret trove between her thighs, so deep that his balls slammed against her butt.

She was raped like that for a long time. By everyone around. Until she became a cringing cowering piece of flesh, covered by foul wetness and sticky seed all over her body, her breasts, her thighs, her face, her hair, her mouth. There was nothing left of the Elisa, who just an hour ago, had so happily laid down herself in the sun baked sand.

She thought they left her behind like that, disappearing from her sight. She didn't care. She was fluctuating in and out of consciousness. She tasted sand, and she had lost any sense of time.

But it wasn't to be.

Someone grabbed her and she realized that they were tying her wrists together with rope.

Without warning, she was hauled up by those wrists. So high that soon her feet helplessly thrashed around in empty air. With her hands inescapably imprisoned above her, she hung from that single tree to the shadow off which they had carried her. And now, stretched out painfully and naked, she swung in front of this group of grinning people.

The same black haired witch that had spoken to her earlier, stepped up to her. Instantly the whole world became silent. In frightful anticipation even Elisa held her breath. The woman smiled cruelly. "You shouldn't have trespassed," she said once again, "this is private property."

The rest of what she was saying got lost in cheers, welling up from the watching group, which seemed to have swollen into a multitude. The witch woman now addressed her audience, and said: "Well, I suppose we all had our fun. Time for a change."

Elisa saw a slim brunette jump out from the group encircling her hanging body. She danced enthusiastically up and down. Although smaller than Elisa, she had much larger breasts which flew almost separately in the air. "Yes...yes..." she cried... "Let's whip her... I want to whip her... I want to whip her!!" She carried a long and heavy bullwhip.

A massive sense of dread took Elisa's breath and her mind saw red. She drowned in a frenzied panic as the little woman heaved that awful whip.

Elisa began to scream...


A horrible pain shot through both her luscious breasts. It took a long minute before she realized that the shrieking noise she was hearing was her own voice, which apparently had regained its ability to make sound. Only half cognising what was going on, because of the sea of pain taking possession of her mind, she saw the woman grab her own crotch and address one of the sturdy boys behind her. "Your turn," her lips said. The boy had a huge erection and held his own whip. They all had whips now...

"Noooooo!! Elisa screamed, "NOOOOO!!!!"


Amidst loud cheers, the coarse leather kissed Elisa's belly, its tip biting raw, like an attacking snake, into her jerking hip. She howled louder than ever, thrashing her legs in all directions, trying to protect her crotch. The pain was overwhelming, unbearable. She closed her eyes, feeling tears fly from them. It meant she could not see whoever waved another whip high up into the air.


The fearsome leather caught her across the taut flesh of her upper thighs, grazing that most sensitive love hill between them. The pain was so intense that the world almost greyed out before her eyes, and she trampled the air wildly, screaming like a pig being slaughtered.

Dimly she became aware that someone now pried open her legs and held them like that. She knew she was wet like a sponge there, and felt like a falling wounded bird, fluttering and trying in vain to stay in the air. Her fear and pain made her look up to the unreachable clouds she wanted to disappear into.


The whip, coming up from below, split her almost in two, its tip landing with a loud smack straight into the delicacy of her love entrance, causing a volcanic explosion of unimaginable pain. Elisa fell down from heaven and went absolutely berserk, screaming her lungs out and tearing her voice to shreds.


Mercifully, she blacked out, but somehow she knew she still hung with her tied wrists from that rope in the sun, albeit unconsciously so.

Her face was splashed with icy water.

How long had she been out of the world? Or had she? She wasn't anymore swinging in the air, but back in the sand. Her whole body felt alternately doused in fire, or numbed in mindlessness. Then she found that her hands were now tied behind her back. Why...? What were they doing? She wanted to scream again, but once more she had no voice. Her vocal cords had been so abused that they were shredded, and only raw noises could escape from her throat.

She was put on her feet. Her knees gave way. But strong hands supported her. Something was slid around her throat. It made her think of that slave collar she always wore. Where was it now? Had they taken it off?

Then she saw the rope curling lazily above her head.

"Oh my God...!!" she thought, "It's a noose!! They're going to hang me, they are going to kill me in front of all these people." Wildly she looked around, but she saw only faces glaring hungrily at her, of boys and girls, of men and women, drooling spittle from their cruelly laughing faces.

A voice whispered in her ears, it was that woman again. She said something about the building that was completely in ruins now. Its strange name. Now she remembered: "The hanging house".

So Elisa understood this was the end.

But she didn't want to die! She was still young, wasn't she!? She didn't care that she was naked. She didn't care that her hands were bound behind her. She didn't care that she was covered in dirty muck and bloody whip marks. She didn't care that she had been raped savagely and leaked blobs of spunk between her legs. She only cared about her desperate wish to live.

But she had no say in it. They were going to take away her life from her, and she could not stop them. Her death, her dying throws, her slow suffocation, her thrashing legs, her bulging eyes, her reddening face, all of that would amuse them, please them, arouse them. Her fate was sealed.

She pissed herself. It flowed down amongst the male seed that kept leaking down her thighs.

Among deafening cheers all around her, she was slowly hauled up high in the air by her neck. She desperately tried to free her hands behind her and soon trampled air wildly with her feet. But the only effect was that the noose tightened harder, biting ferociously into her throat. It hurt terribly and her breath was cut off. She gurgled incomprehensibly.

Then, in the middle of her desperate fight to remain alive, Elisa suddenly saw her husband, her beloved master. He stood among the people watching her execution. He was naked like everybody else and smiled at her, highly aroused and with a monstrous standing erection.

The noose now cut into the muscles of her neck and throat, like a burning ring of white-hot fire searing her flesh. In successive jolts she was pulled up higher and higher to far above the jeering crowd. They were all moving their arms in unison as if waving in a football stadium. She trampled, yanking frantically on the rope that tied her hands, but no air reached her desperately choking lungs.

Far above the cheering audience she felt how her body began to convulse reflexively. No doubt these were her final movements, the final movements of her existence. Below her, they were all gawking, jubilant and applauding. She tried to focus her gaze on her master, on his pleasure. It swayed like a flagpole in the air, deep down below her.

Then her vision faded into darkness. She felt a last massive quiver contracting her nude hanging body, and she awoke in the sand with a bolting start. Her heart beat like a thundering orchestra. Her hair was full of sand and the sun had almost gone down. She looked up and saw, hovering low above her against the evening sky, the life-saving shadow of that broadly winged eagle, her husband, her master, pulling gently at the leash linked to her slave collar.

"Get up, dear," he said. "You've been sleeping long enough. We're going home..."

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