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Thai tart in cathedral of love philippines asian woman
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Her body hung before me listlessly, the soles of her high heel shoes resting just enough on the warehouse floor to allow her to keep the weight off wrists that were cuffed to the hook two feet above her head.

Her ankles were cuffed together just above the straps of her stiletto shoes. Her chin rested dejectedly on her chest, her long, jet black hair hanging down, covering her face. Most of the buttons down the front of her full length, black designer gown had been ripped open, taking with them shreds of the exquisite silk material of the now ruined garment.

The few remaining buttons were doing their best to keep her body covered, but despite their efforts, an entire, sleek leg was revealed all the way up to where a few tantalizing inches of black thong panties could be seen. Missing upper buttons revealed the center string of a push-up bra the same color as the lace panties, the gown and the long, flowing black hair somewhat matted now from the excessive summertime heat in the abandoned warehouse.

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The point of my knife traced a line up the exposed thigh, causing her to gasp and shake against her shackles. I cautioned her to be still.

A wrong move and she could cut herself against the knife blade which caressed her. We didn't want her cutting herself, did we? She looked up at me again, eyes teary, pleading. But what did she see in my eyes? With my tight fitting black mask, my eyes were the only part of me that she could see, since she annoyingly refused to look at my naked body and my blood-filled manhood that protruded rather arrogantly upward. Oh, she knew my cock and balls were right there before her, all right, and would certainly have given them a savage kick right now if she only could, but with her ankles shackled together she would have to kick with both legs and that would put unbearable pressure on her already tortured wrists that were manacled above her head.

Therefore, since she had no physical option, her only recourse was to plead for mercy from her masked attacker, a man who was driving the stretch limo that was to have taken her to a red carpet affair but which instead diverted course while she was absent mindedly thumbing through her test messages and ended up inside an abandoned warehouse. She now pleaded for me to let her go and she would tell no one. I responded by jerking the knife upward forcefully, obliterating the remaining buttons of her evening gown and causing her to shriek in terror, a sound which reverberated among the dusty overhead rafters of the abandoned warehouse.

Like all of her many previous cries and protests since being pulled from the limousine and strung up to a hook like a side of beef, the sound of this shriek echoed briefly but then was swallowed in the vastness of the empty building, unheard by anyone but myself. The dress now fell completely open and hung from her shoulders, revealing her full, frontal body clad only in the black bra and panties.

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Torn remnants of her $2,000 dress remained hanging from her shoulders, but I made quick work of them with the hand not holding the knife, ripping them way from her smoking hot bod until she was now hanging before me in nothing but her black, lacy underwear and shiny black stiletto shoes. With her chin once again on her chest, she sobbed quietly.

Was it sweat or tears—or both—that trickled from her chin and fell to her chest just above the push-up bra? I put my hand on her chin and lifted her head. Dark mascara, carried by rivulets of tears, had streaked garishly down her snow white cheeks. Bright red lipstick still adorned pouty lips that now had plenty of reason to pout.

Knowing that her situation was hopeless, she responded to my stroking of her chin by spiting in my masked face.

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I took my hand from her chin and slapped her hard, causing her head to jerk sharply to one side. "Bastard!" she spat.


I grabbed her by the chin and again forced her to face what I knew was an extremely intimidating mask. She again tried to spit at me, but this time her spittle simply drooled down her chin and onto my fingers.

She tried to act defiant, but I could read fear in her eyes and it caused my dick to swell even harder. I kneelt at her shackled feet and placed a hand on the soft, smooth skin of one of her thighs. Her body stiffened and she brought her thighs tightly together, but not before I inserted my hand between them. There was not a thing she could do to prevent my hand from now moving upward to the juncture of her legs.

She squirmed and rattled her cuffed wrists against the hook above her head as my fingers pushed their way inside her panties and my forefinger found the slit of her womanhood. Against her will my finger entered her up to the second knuckle as she gasped and writhed in futile protest. After pausing for a moment to feel and marvel at the warmth of her vagina, I shoved my digit to the hilt as she cried in protest.

The tip of my finger pressed into the fleshy moistness of her vaginal walls as she squirmed defenselessly. I forced a second finger into her tight pussy and now reamed her slowly.

She cried out from the pain felt in her wrists after attempting momentarily to lift both feet off the floor, then sagged down in defeat and hanged limply as I began to forcefully finger fuck her with deft, in-and-out thrusts with my two fingers.


After a while, with the fingers of my right hand remained buried to the hilt inside her pussy, I took the knife in my left hand and used it to cut her out of her panties. The ruined undergarment fell in shreds to her feet. My left hand then grasped her firmly by the ass while I resumed finger fucking her with my right hand. Her body hung helplessly as I sexually assaulted her in this manner.


After a long while I removed my fingers from her cunt and licked her juices off them. I then lifted her off the hook that had been holding her by the wrists above her head and carried her to a mattress on the warehouse floor.

I lay her on the mattress on her back and stood over her.

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Her wrists remained cuffed together, and she brought her arms down so that her wrists rested against her navel.

She was obviously greatly relieved to at last be able to get some blood circulating in her numb arms. With a key I removed the shackles from one of her ankles and kicked her legs apart, leaving her black high heel shoes on her feet.

She tried to close her legs but I was between them before she was able to do so. She cried as she felt me position the head of my engorged penis against her womanhood, but was too weak to protest beyond muttering the words "no…no" over and over. She stopped burbling these words only after I thrust forward, sending my cock four inches into her. I had taken the step of lathering my tool with Vaseline, and the ease with which this allowed me to penetrate her seemed to shock her: her mouth fell open, gaping, as she felt me possess her.

I paused at those four inches, marveling at the feel of her pussy on the end of my cock as she wiggled in objection to my taking her against her will. But shortly she stopped moving, as if realizing that her squirming served no purpose other than that of, in effect, fucking me back. With her rape now essentially consummated, it appeared that she realized that further resistance from this point was futile, and she sagged down into the mattress and was from thereon motionless.

I laughed at this and then, with a grunt, rammed the rest my cock all the way into her, my belly pressing against her handcuffed hands that rested between us. I fucked her slowly for three or four minutes, savoring the feel of her body and the sweet smell of her scent as I nuzzled her neck. It was the scent of expensive perfume mixed with the sweat of fear and the heat of a dusty warehouse.

After a while, with my cock buried inside her, I paused as I took my knife and cut her bra apart at the string which connected the two cups. Her breasts spilled out of the ruined bra as I ripped it off her. She had panicked anew at the sight of the blade coming toward her, and was perhaps relieved that I only used it to cut off her bra. I then lifted my body off her and supported myself with my arms with my hands plated firmly on her bare shoulders, and proceeded to fuck the living shit out of her, my knees forcing her thighs wider and wider apart.

Each deep, inward thrust elicited from her a soft grunt of sharply released air. It didn't take long until the beauty of her sweaty and naked body and the sounds of her grunts at being fucked brought forth within me a thunderous orgasm that rocked my body.

With my cock sunk as deeply into her as anatomically possible, my balls sent warm sperm pouring into her.

I then collapsed on top of her, pressing her handcuffed hands between our bellies. I lay there on top of her for a long while, feeling her gently sobbing as my cock began to shrink and eventually slip from her cunt. After a while I stood and pulled on my clothes. My beautiful, naked victim watched me carefully, and tearfully, as I did so. She was no doubt still keenly aware of my knife and unsure if she had seen the last of it. I chuckled to myself as she rolled to her side, apparently feeling that she needed to hide her pussy from my view, as if I hadn't just fucked the shit out of her.

I removed her handcuffs and told her to get dressed. She crawled around on the mattress and retrieved her bra and panties, but they both had been cut into worthless shreds.

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She looked up at me stupidly. I retrieved her dress and threw it at her as she continued to sit up on the mattress on the floor. The buttons up the front of the dress had been ripped off, but she could still wrap the thing around most of her body and hold it there, which she did after awkwardly getting to her feet. In her condition, she found it difficult to stand in the stilettos, and looked like a new born colt in trying to do so.

I asked her if she wanted me to take her to the gala event where she was headed before our little detour. If looks could have killed, I would have been dead and buried on the spot. She flinched as I reached for her arm. Grasping her by the biceps, I pulled her stumbling after me toward the rear of the limousine. When I popped the trunk, she saw inside, to her amazement, the real limo driver, bound and gagged. As she stood there non-comprehendingly, I picked her up and threw her in the trunk on top of the poor driver and slammed the trunk lid.

I pulled the limo out of the warehouse and drove around for a while until coming to a dark, residential side street about two blocks from a well lite gas station. I parked at the curb, popped the trunk, and walked quickly away. Author: Mario Caliente