Strangers on a Train
by Belisarius


By the time I’d rowed Abigail back to the landing stage I’d decided that enough was enough and in future I would take a great deal of care over whom I sat beside on trains.

“I think I’d better return home Would you mind giving my apologies to your brother?”

“Surely, you’re not going before dinner, otherwise you’ll end up having cold chips in some motorway service area.”

I shook my head, my face set, “Better get going, there’s nothing for me here.”

She smiled her winning smile, “Stay, please, for me. You could be very surprised after dinner.”

As I listened to her she thrust out her right hip and rested her hand on it, while at the same time pushing out her breasts. God, I thought, she’s at it again, promising much but delivering bugger all.

“No…. I don’t think so……”

Her eyes did it for me, a long, smouldering, meaningful glance which seemed to say that all that had gone before was over and to-night she would be mine to do with as I pleased.

I couldn’t resist her, even after all that had gone before, “Very well, Abigail, but, just for you.”

“I’m sure you won’t be disappointed.”

“Why not come to my room now, I’ve a stout four poster.”

“Not at the moment, the others will be buzzing around the place in no time and we’ve a new set of guests arriving at five,” with that she smiled winningly and walked off towards the house.

I stood and watched her go, cursing myself for a halfwit, but at the same time admiring the rise and fall of her buttocks.

When I came down for pre-dinner drinks I noticed that all of the guests were new arrivals and unlike the previous lot were very animated and loud. There was an electric anticipation in the air that was almost touchable.

Abigail took my arm, “After dinner, in the library, ok?” she whispered and then took off to talk to a group of rather plump, red faced business types.

Dinner came and went and after the port ritual we joined the ladies in the drawing room. I looked around for Abigail, but there was no sign of her. As most people were engaged in conversation, I slipped off to the library where I found her waiting for me. She wasted no time and pulled me by the wrist across the corridor to the mysterious door I had encountered previously. Down a stone, spiral staircase we went, just the sort of gateway to a torture chamber as depicted on the silver screen. However, much to my surprise, at the bottom I was confronted by a real torture chamber.

At centre stage there stood a rack and if it wasn’t mediaeval it certainly looked as though it was. All of the stone pillars and arches supporting the roof were festooned with chains, shackles, fetters, rings and bolts from which a body could be held or hung at any angle. There was a stout torture chair with ropes and handcuffs standing by on a little side table, beneath which were the clips, wires and connection for providing sensitive parts of the victim with electrical stimulation. A long table at one side held every possible restraint, gag, whip, cane, flogger, dildo, vibrator……. Need I go on?

“Good gracious, I’ve never seen the like of this outside of Hollywood,” I managed to speak at last.

“Where do you want me?” asked Abigail, who at the same time dropped to her knees and held her hands palms together towards me.

There were all sorts of possibilities to hand, but I had only one aim in mind, the fucking of Abigail. I pulled her up by her hands and took her across to the nearest pillar where I shackled her with her arms high above her head. I then used a long piece of rope to spread her legs wide apart using the pillar to prevent her closing them again. I wasted no time hauling her skirt up and tucking it around her waist. My hands immediately began to run up and down the nyloned smoothness of her thighs, she was wearing charcoal grey tights which glistened in the subdued lighting, making her pubic mound stand out forcefully.

“What are you waiting for, you’ve wanted to put your cock into me for weeks?”

I looked up from my work into her face and saw on it a twisted half smile. For some reason this drove me forward and I pulled on the waistband of her hosiery and soon had it down as far as it would go. Not being satisfied I visited the equipment table, selected a knife and ripped the tights apart, rolling the damaged leg sections to her ankles. I then dealt similarly with the crotch of her panties and began to thrust my fingers deep into her hole, which was soon leaking sex fluid.

“Come on, come on you wimp. What are you waiting for, am I to be well fucked, or are you not up to it?” Her voice was harsh and mocking.

I removed my black tie, threw off my jacket and dropped my trousers. My cock was fully erect, I looked at it with satisfaction and advanced on my prisoner.

As my penis hovered at the entrance to her vagina I was half expecting her to call a halt to the proceedings, but she did not, so I began to plough her slit with the tip of my penis. She began to breathe deeply and if felt as though she was trying to suck my erection into her vagina.

I laughed harshly and pulled away from her and watched her struggle towards me, her arse bouncing against the cold, stone pillar which held her.

“You cunt,” she cried, “Aren’t you man enough?”

I laughed again, “You’ll soon see, once you’ve been tortured until you beg for release.”

An interesting twenty minutes then passed as I splashed candle grease on to her breasts, keeping the wick close to her skin to make sure the wax arrived all the hotter. Then a gentle flogging with a replica (though lightweight) cat-o’-nine tails.

Eventually, as she hung deliciously in her bonds I could wait no longer and plunged in to her. It wasn’t very long before she began to moan and scream, her pelvic area thrusting towards my cock and attempting to somehow grip and take control of it. I wasn’t allowing her to dictate events yet again, so I used all my strength to keep her following my own rhythm. “Twist my nipples, twist them, twist them as hard as you can,” the words came from her as desperate gasps.

I did as I was told and soon she was bucking against her bonds and my weight like a wild thing, she had become; despite my station of power over her, a creature I could hardly control.

Steaming and breathless I came and pulled my glistening cock from her and took a deep breath.

“You bastard, you bastard,” she screamed, “Whip me, whip me, bring me off with something……… please….. please…,” her cries descended from high pitched anger and frustration to a hoarse call for help.

I took a long, springy birch twig from a holder beside the table, returned to her and began to belabour her breasts, stomach and thighs. She writhed and shouted and screamed without any let-up, I thought the people in the drawing room were bound to hear and was just about to find something with which to gag her when she called, “Enough….., oh, more than enough…..” I unfastened her and helped her to the torture chair where I kissed the welts and bruises which covered the front of her body, though I knew they wouldn’t remain long because I hadn’t hit her too hard.

“Bring me a drink, please,” she asked quietly.

I began to pull my clothing together before returning upstairs to fulfil her request, but she stopped me.

“At the rear of the cellar, there’s a ‘fridge, a glass of white wine will do.”

When I returned with the wine I found her still breathing heavily, but looking very contented. I smiled at her and picked up my trousers and began dusting them off.

“Stay as you are….. Please…..,” her voice had lost the timbre of command and this was more of an entreaty than an order.

“You want more?”

She wave an arm airily around the room, “It seems such a shame to let all this go to waste.”

“How about the torture chair and a little electrical stimulation?”

She pouted, “A very nice idea too, but I would rather like to have you at my mercy.”

I remembered when she’d tied me to her marriage bed and left me for what seemed like half a day.

My face must have reflected my reluctance as she said, “I won’t hurt you….”

“Or leave me…….,” I put in hastily.

“”Grief, no, everyone will wonder where we are. No, I thought ten minutes on the rack would be nice.”

I laughed shortly, “Who for?”

“Both of us, silly, I bet I can raise your cock to immense proportions in less than two minutes.”

“I’m not sure I trust you with a proper instrument of torture and myself at your mercy.”

She stamped her foot and took the few steps needed to bring her to the handles of the stretching machine, “Look,” she said as she began to whirl the drum of the machine, “Look, the shackles don’t move, it’s all just for show.”

Two minutes later I was chained to the rack and another minute or two after that she had a cock restraint on me and I could feel life returning to crucial parts of my body. I spent a few seconds wondering if I was the only person in the whole of history to willingly have climbed aboard a rack.

“Lovely,” she muttered as she gave my nipples a good pull.

“Owww…… Look, shouldn’t we call it a day now?”

She smiled and clicked a cog wheel on the drum of the rack and began turning the handles. My stretching began.

“I thought you said it didn’t work…….. Owww, Ohhhh, Grrrrr, Ugghhhhhh…….”

“Got to put it into gear first, silly boy. Now, let’s have you sweating.”

In a few moments perspiration covered my body as what seemed like every part of it came under strain. I knew she couldn’t go so far as to dislocate my shoulders or legs, but what she was doing seemed to be coming close to it. A leather gag of large proportions was now thrust into my mouth and firmly strapped into place. She then proceeded to torture my nipples and cock with any implement that took her fancy – and there seemed to be an endless supply of them.

Eventually, however, she stopped and removed my gag and cock restraint, “That’ll do for now, I suppose.” She then pulled a bell rope and before I knew it I was surrounded by my hosts, William and Augusta, not to mention their guests and household staff.

“Did you enjoy the show?” asked Abigail.

“Rather,” said Augusta, her willowy frame covered only by a corset which did not conceal her pubic area, “Can I have him now?”

“Wait a minute, what do you mean, the show?” I shouted.

“It’s all been on close-circuit, my, my, you were good,” William informed me.

“Oh, ‘Gusta, you promised me, you said I could have him first,” this from Mary, the serving girl, who anticipation was dropping her panties.

“Just you wait your turn,” ordered Augusta and then she turned to face her guests, “Ladies, gentlemen, the warm-up session has now ended, so, please, feel free to go to it!”

Joe and Abigail stood over me, each smiling with considerable satisfaction.

“I knew he’d fall for it as soon as I set eyes upon him on the train,” this from Joseph.

“How could you know this was my scene?” I couldn’t help asking.

“You just looked the part and a little investigation confirmed that I was on the right track.”

“What sort of investigation?” I was concerned.

“Oh, nothing much, William funded it and we found out what we needed to know.”

I tried to reply, but all around me the guests were, as invited, going to it. Binding, torturing, fucking, sucking, whipping, drilling, lashing, vibrating, was going on all around me. I had to admit that it did look fun.

“Can I get his piece into me, my cunt’s soaking,” Mary was insistent, whilst Sally impatiently awaited her turn.

“I suppose so,” agreed Abigail and very shortly afterwards I was straddled by a tightly suspendered serving lass who gave me a good seeing to, while her colleague knelt on my chest and thrust her pelvic area into my mouth. As my line of vision was very much restricted by a pair of warm, expansive thighs and my body was bearing the weight of two quite hefty ladies, I wasn’t able to observe as closely as I would have liked the goings-on in the torture chamber.

It all came to an end after an hour or so when I was released from my bonds and helped to my feet, ushered upstairs into the library and a brandy placed beside me.

“Sorry about all this deception, old chap,” said Joe, “But we really did need a new male member to help out with the guests and I’d spotted you as a likely candidate straight away.”

I was too exhausted to feel put out, but I was curious, “Well, who are the visitors?”

“They’re paying guests, old boy, how do you suppose William can keep a place like this going without a considerable income?”

I could see that, but what an interesting trade William had chosen to be in, “Who were the first lot, then?”

Joe laughed, “Neighbours, local big-wigs, magistrates, senior policemen, politicians, William likes to keep them sweet.”

“And the current group?”

“Rich people, old chap, just rich people.”

I pondered for a moment, “I don’t have to pay, do I?”

Joe laughed before speaking, “No, of course not, we get paid. Presuming, of course, that you do wish to join our merry band?”

“About twice a month, more often in summer,” added Abigail.

“I usually never volunteer for anything,” I replied, “But, in this case, I believe I can make an exception.”

The End