Competition Breeds Excellence in Captivity

Zarina had been sedated with a booster shoot of long acting diazepam for the final leg of the flight. During the flight I took a blood sample from her and ran it through a portable rapid tester for sexually transmitted diseases. I carted her unconscious body in the Pelican case down to the basement gym, and then marked the box and both our clothes for disposal far away. Perhaps I was being too paranoid about any traces of her DNA one day being found on my plane or any possessions that would accidentally leave the island. But I was not about to lose the life I had, much less the one I had fantasized about, over a plastic box that can be had for less than $800. I stripped off Zarina’s clothes and would burn all of them, except her underwear, later. 

I secured Zarina with custom-made and neoprene lined metal ankle and wrists cuffs and locked her to a saw horse. Only then did I cut the flex cuffs off and unlock her handcuffs. While she was comatose, I fitted her mouth with a silicon coated ring gag that was large enough for my member, but fit inside her mouth and hopefully would not cause TMJ or lockjaw issues anytime soon. I ran her panties under cold water and stuffed them partially through the ring gag, so she should have trouble spitting them out. Finally, I tightened a sleeping mask as a blindfold around her head and sealed it with medical tape that sticks to skin and hair, even when wet. My paranoia drove me to double check Zarina’s restraints one last time, and then I could not help myself any longer.

I had never felt like my erection was about to burst like this. I grabbed Zarina’s asscheeks with each hand and raped her vagina with the fury from a lifetime of pent-up sadism. Her muscles were constricted, as if her body was trying to prevent me from penetrating her. I did not last long, but at some point she woke up and I heard the first of innumerable screams, muffled as they were by her wet panties. I had too much libido for my erection to flag, so I pulled her panties out of the ring gag and leapt right into raping her throat. Zarina choked and retched immediately. I was bludgeoning the bend at back of her throat but I was only getting two-thirds down. It probably would have hurt me had I not been on the endorphin high of my life.

Zarina evidently had very little in her stomach, as she was throwing up mostly liquid in succession. She was flailing harder against her restraints than any woman would be expected to. I could not tell whether she even noticed when I shot down her throat, and she immediately hurled my cum onto my balls and the floor. I figured that might happen and had a cane by my side and started slashing down on her ass. I wanted to start the precedent of punishing her for not swallowing every drop, though I doubted whether her brain presently had any capacity to deduce the cause and effect.

Zarina was shrieking herself hoarse around my still hard cock, and that probably compounded the bruising I had done to her throat. I crisscrossed her ass with about twenty gashes—I lost count quickly—and noticed some started bleeding a little. Once I finally stopped to take a breath, I pulled out and circled behind her to ram my amazingly still-hard cock all the way into her asshole. Zarina’s voice hit an octave she had not been able to reach in the preceding minutes. I cannot say that I planned for her vomit, mucus and saliva to be the only lubricants, but it was enough for me. I dug my nails into the lacerations across her ass and squeezed her cheeks whenever her screams flagged. Occasionally I caned her back and enjoyed feeling her ass re-tightend around me. 

After shooting what load I had left into her bowels, I switched right back to fucking her face. I was dumping decades of fantasies in to fuel my libido and I was surprised with myself that I could keep going despite being half flaccid. She threw up again, perhaps this time as much due to the taste and knowledge of where my cock had been. I took no pleasure from this and in the future would force her to clean her holes regularly, but for now I was in too much of a frenzy. It was only after my fourth climax in what must have been less than half a hour that my lust began to subside, or more specifically that I could no longer perform with the same violent ardor. Zarina’s wails had taken on the distinct sound of despair, but she had no idea that her life was about to become one of the worst in human history.

My sadism demanded that I tortured her brutally. I had too many evil ideas, and a multitude more variations and models of equipment to test out on her. Soft BDSM did nothing for me. If all I wanted was spankings and fuzzy handcuffs then I would not have needed to kidnap a sex slave and keep her in an island hideout. I was finally gratifying my love of seeing pretty girls bear horrific pain. But I also had a practical goal: I intended to obliterate both her mental and physical ability to resist.