Susan Strict
The following extract is from a novel by Susan Strict - "Her Prisoner - A Twist of Sadism"

It all started for Mike as a mildly kinky game with his friend Jenny.  It took him completely by surprise to find that her sexual tastes were far more extreme than he could possibly have imagined, but even then he had no idea just what was happening.  As Jenny departed for a week and her friend Eileen was left in charge, Mike was subjected to ever increasingly sadistic torment.  Eileen's devious ingenuity meant that there was no chance of escape for him even when she left him to go to work.  The arrival of Eileen's mother produced yet another twist, and quite a different problem for the unfortunate Mike

In this extract, Mike has been left tied to Eileen's bed.  Eileen's mother has just come in with no idea that he's there…


The bedroom door burst open.  “Eileen, you’re not still in bed...?”

She broke off as she saw him, and for a moment, even this strong, forceful, self-assured woman was lost for words. 


She stared, her eyes fixed on Mike’s manhood that, despite his embarrassment, pointed towards the ceiling as firm and rigid as a ramrod.

“Oh,” she said again after a few seconds, her eyes now sweeping around the room to make sure her daughter was not lurking in a corner.

“You must be a friend of Eileen’s?”

“Not exactly...” he stuttered.

Eileen’s mother raised her eyebrows.  “She often ties strangers to her bed?”

“I was a friend of Jenny’s,” Mike tried to explain.  “And now Eileen won’t let me go.”

He knew it sounded ridiculous, and it was quite evident that Eileen’s mother thought so too.  She took a step into the room and closed the door behind her.

“You seem to be enjoying it.”  She gestured in the general direction of his hardness, her eyes focusing on it once more.

“I can’t help it,” his voice quavered.  “I’ve been like this for days

“Days!  You’ve been tied to this bed for days?  How many days?”

It was clear she did not believe him.

“No, not tied to the bed.  Here.  A prisoner.  And she torments me and won’t let me...”

“Don’t talk such utter rubbish,” she told him.  “A big strong man like you unable to get away from my feeble little daughter?  Complete tosh.”

“Just untie me, please.  I need to go...”

“Untie you?  Do you seriously think I’m going to come anywhere near you while you’re quite naked and waving that thing around everywhere.  I’m most certainly not.  I’m quite sure you can free yourself if you make a little effort.”

“I can’t.  I really can’t,” he begged.  “Please...”

“Oh you hopeless little pervert,” she stormed angrily.  “Let me have a look.”

She strode over to the top of the bed and bent down to examine the leather cuffs holding his wrists.

“They’re locked,” she said.  “I can’t just undo them.”

“Break them off or something,” he moaned.  “I have to get out of this.”

“Don’t whine,” she told him  “I can’t stand whining men, and I don’t think Eileen would be very pleased if I started damaging her things.  You’ll just have to stay where you are until she comes back.”

“There must be something you can do,” he insisted, looking up at her ample breasts that strained at her blouse not too far from his head as she bent over the straps around his wrists.  “I need to...”

“I told you not to whine,” she said severely, straightening up and adjusting her blouse.  “Anyway, you’re still enjoying it, I can see that.  So don’t you give me any rubbish about being forced to do it.  I saw you staring at my breasts.”

“I wasn’t,” he said apologetically. 

“You were,” she insisted.  “Which is probably why you’re still excited, you dirty little pervert.”

“I really wasn’t,” he said weakly, now desperate for her to find a way to release him so that he could go to the bathroom.

“Just look at it,” she retorted sarcastically.  “It doesn’t just get that way on its own.”

As she spoke she bent down to take a closer look, resting one hand on the top of his thigh and the other on the lower part of his stomach.  The result was inevitable.  Her weight pressed down on her hand right onto his full bladder, and immediately urine squirted from the end of his manhood in a wide spray made wider and fiercer by his throbbing erection.  She jumped back, but it was too late.  Her face and clothes received the full force of it.

“You filthy little beast,” she said, wiping her face in disgust.  “How dare you do that to me?”

“I couldn’t help it,” he muttered, horrified at what had happened.  “I’m so sorry.  You leaned on my stomach and...”

“I couldn’t help it, I couldn’t help it,” she mimicked.  “Of course you could help it.  How would you like it if I pissed all over you?  Is that why you’re lying on a rubber sheet, because you can’t control yourself?  She should have put you in nappies.”

“I said I’m sorry.  I didn’t do it deliberately.”

“I’m absolutely soaked,” she complained, holding her blouse between finger and thumb on a part of it that was relatively dry and pulling it away from her skin.  “Ugh.”

He watched in astonishment as she unbuttoned the blouse and took it off.  She threw it at him, and then did the same with her skirt.  She stood there, hands on hips, wearing nothing but her large, white underwear.  Her knickers came up over her hips, heavily elasticated at the waist and with a reinforced panel at the front and underneath; a plain, wired bra that held her breasts in its two solid hammocks but did little to hide the deep canyon between them.

“I’ve got a good mind to piss all over you,” she said threateningly.

“Just find a way of getting me out of this,” he told her, more than a little angrily.  “This is ridiculous.  Break the damn locks.  Cut the leather.  I don’t care.  Just do something instead of standing there like a fat idiot in your bra and knickers.”

As soon as he had said it he regretted it.  It was impolite, certainly.  In fact it was downright rude and not the way he would have spoken to a woman of her age in any circumstances, however abnormal.  More than that, it was downright foolish when he was tied naked, spread-eagled and helpless to a bed and she was standing in her underwear, hands on hips, heavy, strong and fuming with anger less than three feet away from him.  Even so, he was quite unprepared for what happened next.

A low scream broke from her lips.  It was a scream of anger, and it rose in pitch and intensity until the room was filled with noise that rivalled the whistle of the most powerful steam locomotive entering a tunnel.

She leapt onto the bed and astride his chest, still screaming.  She really was very heavy, and he struggled to breathe as her full weight pressed down on him.

“I’ll show you,” she screamed at him.  “You can’t talk to me like that and get away with it.”

“Hey, I didn’t mean...” but he never finished.  He was speechless in disbelief as she leapt to her feet with surprising agility for her size, and wrenched down her knickers before pulling them right off and throwing them to the floor.  She stood looking down at him, and then as though she had suddenly made a decision she stepped forward, bent, grasped hold of the wooden frame of the bed behind him and squatted over him.

She was only an inch or two above him, her huge, powerful thighs poised threateningly, wide apart as though at any moment they would descend, clamp together and crush his head between them.  His eyes were fixed not on those thighs but on the area between them, hovering directly over his face.  He could not believe she was doing this, or that she would actually carry out her threat.  Then he saw her muscles tense and the first drips of fluid fell on him.

He was shaking his head, about to tell her again that he really had not meant to do it to her, opening his mouth to object, to apologise, to say anything that would stop her, and then the deluge hit him. 

It filled his mouth before he could shut it, making him splutter and cough.  It cascaded over his face, into his eyes and ran down into his ears, up his nose, forming a puddle all around his head and shoulders in the indentation in the rubber sheet where he lay.  On and on it went, gushing out of her and over him in a flood that seemed as though would never stop. 

She had her eyes closed, gripping tightly onto the head of the bed and tensing her muscles to force every last drop from her.  As the flow slowly subsided, she shook herself to remove the last of the moisture – and lost her grip on the bed frame.

She gave a little squeal as she descended onto him.  The impact, although from only an inch or two above him, was massive.  It felt as though a wet leather bag with a ton of mud and rocks in it had just fallen onto his face and kept on pressing downwards, forcing the back of his head down into the bed’s mattress.  Her thighs came together in an effort to steady herself, and Mike found himself buried in her so deeply that the flesh of her buttocks and her upper thighs actually touched the rubber sheet either side of his face.

Everything went black, and Mike lost consciousness.

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Susan Strict

Mike’s unconsciousness lasted for no more than a few seconds.  He came round to find that his nightmare was by no means over.  After losing her grip on the bed frame and sitting down heavily on his face, she stayed there for a moment meaning only to recover herself before clambering to her feet.  Somehow, that did not quite happen.

As his face was pressed deeply into her, she felt a warmth and a tingling she had not known for many years.  It took her by surprise, although she had not pretended to herself when she first saw Mike naked, aroused and helpless that she did not find the sight of him both interesting and desirable.  In fact, although seeing a naked man was far from new to her, to have one tied to a bed and completely helpless held a fascination much deeper than she would ever have imagined until she had seen Mike there.

She moved her legs apart slightly and bent her knees, kneeling up for a moment before settling back comfortably onto his face with a little sigh.  She reached behind her to undo her bra and fling it away from her.  Her large breasts, released from their prison, sprang forward and downward.  She cupped them in her hands thoughtfully, content that even at her age they still kept some of their former shape and firmness.

As Mike opened his eyes he could see nothing but a mountain of flesh over him. Her face was somewhere far above him obscured by the bulge of her stomach, although he could just see part of her breasts jutting out like partially deflated basketballs.  Her weight was solidly on the lower part of his face, preventing him from breathing and feeling as though at any moment he would be crushed under the huge bulk above him.

He tried to tell her she was suffocating him, but no sound came out.  As he opened his mouth it was filled with her bulging flesh that seemed to have a life of its own and a determination to mould itself to the contours of his face.  Even his nostrils felt invaded by her, and a steady trickle of moisture ran over him and into him.

She moved, just a fraction, but it was enough for him to suck in the mouthful of the air his lungs were demanding, and then she settled down on him again.  His nose was now engulfed and pressed deeply into the wetness inside her, his nostrils forced shut by a hot, sticky, squeezing fleshiness.

Through the thickness of her flesh he felt her trembling, a slight rippling of muscles that reverberated from deep within her.  There was a rhythmical pressing on his face, and a squeezing on his nose that became painful as the force inside her took control and even through so much flesh he felt her solid bones against the bone of his nose.  Her thighs gripped his head on either side, threatening to crush it as the trembling rhythm turned to a shuddering and then a pounding of her body on his face and her thighs on either side of his head.  At least her movements now allowed him to snatch breaths of air, without which he would shortly have lost consciousness again.

He thought she would never stop.  Her movements on his face reached what he assumed was a peak of motion and moaning, hammering down onto him so rapidly that he would not have believed she could keep up such exertion for more than a few seconds, but she did not stop.  Having reached that peak she continued at it, as though riding in a long distance race towards a winning post that moved away from her as rapidly as she approached it.  Fluid squirted from her in tiny spurts over his face as she rode him.

Mike could feel his face becoming sore as she continued to bounce up and down on him, grinding down onto him with a little side-to-side or backward and forward motion that was a little different each time.  He felt bruised, and although the space between her and his face each time she raised herself a little should have been more than enough for him to breathe, the wetness between them was making it more and more difficult by the second.  He started to choke.

It was only as he reached the point where his breathing had been almost completely stopped once again by the sheer volume of fluid flowing from her that she did stop.  It came quickly, with no warning.  One moment she was steadily grinding herself up and down on him, and the next she had stopped, shuddering silently but otherwise not moving at all.  And her full weight once more pressed onto his face, forming a completely airtight seal over his mouth and nose.

Again Mike was on the edge of unconsciousness, and this time it seemed there was nothing that would save him.  Eileen’s mother was planted firmly on top of him and showing no sign of moving at all in the near future.  She was breathing deeply, rivulets of perspiration running down her and over him, giving not the slightest indication she realised he was still underneath her and apparently quite incapable of moving for the moment even if she had had any idea that he was steadily suffocating.  Her heavy flesh bulged over him and all around him.  He was unable to move his head at all, not even a fraction of an inch.

The panic and pain of suffocation rolled over him relatively rapidly, giving way to a most odd feeling that was both terror and tranquillity at the same time.  His vision was undoubtedly blurry, but it made little difference.  All he could see around him was her solid flesh pressing onto him or overhanging him.  His thoughts started to drift far from that bed and from that heavy, powerful woman on top of him.

It was quite a shock when she did move from him.  At first, in his stupefied state, he had no idea what had happened.  From being buried under a solid, fleshy mountain he felt as if he were floating, as light as air and without a care in the world, until all of a sudden that perfect world exploded in a crash of pain.  She had slapped his face.

“Well?” she asked forcefully.  “Are you alive or not?”

He felt compelled to admit that he was indeed alive, although only a moment or two ago he might have doubted it.  She grunted contemptuously.  “You’re a mess,” she told him and slapped his face again, not quite so hard this time.

He realised she was still astride him, kneeling up almost directly over his face.  As he stared up at her a single drip of her juices fell from her, landing right on the very end of his nose.  He blinked as it splashed.

“A disgusting mess,” she confirmed.  “You need cleaning up a bit.”

She swung one leg heavily across him, stepping straight down onto the floor, gaining her balance with difficulty and nearly losing it again as she slid her other leg from the bed.  She stood unsteadily with her back to him for a while before turning and staring down at him distastefully.

“I have never seen,” she said in a rather prudish tone, pausing as though she had lost track of what she was saying.  “I have never seen a man in such a filthy mess.”

He resisted the temptation to tell her that most of the mess was entirely her doing.  “Sorry,” he said meekly.

“You will be,” she told him ominously.  She stared intently at him, taking in every inch of him from his head to his toes.  “I suppose I have to clean you up a bit?”

“Uh... yes, please,” he said uncertainly, not at all sure whether it was the right answer.  Dazed as he was, he had a shrewd suspicion that ‘cleaning him up a bit’ would involve something unpleasant.  Even so, this was not Eileen and not anything like Eileen.  The motivation that drove this woman, older and quite different from her daughter, were of a different flavour altogether.  Agonising and terrifying as her actions had been, after her initial extraordinary retaliation when he had unintentionally urinated at her, everything she had done was purely for her own physical pleasure.  When she sat on him it was, as far as he was aware, firstly an accident when she lost her grip on the bed frame and thereafter there could be absolutely no doubt about her arousal, frightening for him as the whole event had been.  Perhaps, he hoped, she did not share Eileen’s obvious enjoyment at deliberately causing him pain and discomfort?

Without bothering to put on her clothes, she left the room and returned only moments later with a damp cloth.

“This will do the job,” she told him pleasantly, and before he had time to voice his thought that she would need something rather more than a small, damp rag to clean up properly, she bent towards him and slapped it over his face.  She wiped it around his head briefly before standing up with it in her hands and beaming down at him.

“That’s much better,” she said, her eyes checking down his body again and coming to rest on his hardness still standing rigid and throbbing.

“Ah,” she said.  “That too, I think.”

With a quick flick of the cloth she wiped his hardness, around the top of his legs and down his groin.  He flinched at the sudden discomfort of the pressing of her firm fingers under the rough, damp cloth.

“You’re not that delicate,” she scoffed.  “It looks like you could do with a bit of attention down there.”

“Uh... I... “  He was not sure what to say, but at this moment, despite her age and size, there was nothing he wanted more than for her to do something, anything, to relieve the desperate frustration that three days with Eileen had given him.  She did not wait for his approval, and to his surprise she was on the bed and kneeling directly over his groin before he knew what was happening.  She thrust herself down onto him, her fleshy buttocks slapping down against him as she slid all the way down his hardness without the slightest difficulty or hesitation. He gasped, and so did she.

For several minutes she did not move at all, sitting upright on him as she had done when she sat on his face, and now with her hands resting lightly on his chest and her eyes once again closed.  This time, however, he was able to see her clearly without her mountainous flesh obscuring his view.

He was horrified.  She was so much older than he was, and her body, tough and muscular as she always appeared, was lined and positively flabby.  And yet there was a strength in her, a power and a sense of control that he could see would have been there just as strongly even if he were not tied to the bed and helpless.  More than that, there was a desire in her, a lust that showed in her face and in the whole bearing of her body.  If someone had asked him to explain it, he would have been completely unable to define it at all, but it was there and it was overpowering.

It was exciting; it was commandingly, irresistibly exciting, and it hit him with a force that shook his body and his mind, overwhelming him completely.  He orgasmed.

She opened her eyes and looked at him in surprise.  “That was quick,” she said.

She eased herself off him with an expression of disgust at his wilting manhood.

“You’ll regret doing that so quickly,” she told him.

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