Silent
by jekyll
Chapter One: Capture
Snatching the mother was easier than snatching the girl had been. After
a few weeks of no daughter she had slowly begun to go to work, to shop for
groceries. She and her husband were grief-stricken, but they had to live.
They both thought she was dead, actually, and just wanted to find the body,
to bury her properly. After a few months they even started to fuck again,
once in a while, though it was mostly for comfort and wasn't very good. No
one ever considered that the wife could be a victim too, as she went about
her routine activities across the days, mainly avoiding her friends who
would want to make conversation.
She had lost weight, though as a middle-aged American woman she was
still plumpish. Her husband didn't seem to mind that her thighs had grown
flabby. To the captor, she was a project, something to occupy his time and
please him now that her daughter was thoroughly mastered and, therefore,
less interesting. So it was that on the third-month anniversary of the day
he took her daughter he accosted her as she left a grocery store and
started to enter her car, using his best cop voice to say "Ma'am, we have
some news of your daughter."
"What is it?" She almost shouted, too shaken and giddy to wonder why a
cop would track her down at the grocery store.
"We've found some recent photos We think they are her." He showed her
two color snaps. In one her daughter was hanging from the ceiling by dark
straps attached to cuffs on her wrists. There were some whip marks on her
belly and breast buds. The other was a close-up of her daughter's face, an
erection clearly just emerging from her mouth and spurts of semen on her
eyes and cheek. He had chosen them carefully, so he could watch her face
when she realized what they meant.
The mother sank half way to the ground and grabbed her stomach. She was
almost sick right then. This was the thing worse than death that she and
her husband had avoided ever mentioning. "Ma'am, if you'll come here with
me." He opened the door of his SUV and she climbed in distractedly, her
mind on what was happening to her baby. The moment both were in he snapped
a cuff on one wrist and put his gun to her face. The windows were strongly
darkened, and it would be difficult for anyone outside to see anything.
"Do exactly what I say and you will live to see your daughter." She
didn't understand, so just sat there breathing rapidly while he cuffed her
hands together. He snapped a hinged a collar around her neck. A cord from
it went to a ring bolted to the floor, and he used that to pull her head
all the way down between her knees, below the level of the window, and hold
her tightly in place.
"What are you doing? Let me go! Where is my daughter?" He pushed a
rubber ball into her mouth, tied it in place with a thin leather belt, then
pulled a stocking cap over her head to blindfold her. She continued to
make frightened, indecipherable sounds behind the gag for a bit.
"I'll answer your three questions. First, I am kidnapping you. Second,
no, I will not let you go. You are my plaything now, and you'll learn
above all other things to please me. And, third, your daughter is where
we're going. I have her and I certainly have you." It was that easy.
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The transition from being a free person to being the prisoner of a
rapist, bound, gagged, and blindfolded, being taken to some unknown,
probably fearful, place, is a profound thing for a woman. She was
disoriented, shaking, crying, trying to think. From the photos she had an
idea of what would happen. Combined with the ball in her mouth this
brought her waves of nausea. What would her husband think? How long would
it be before anyone knew she was missing? Could she be brave in the face
of this? Her daughter was alive. Or was she? Oh what she had faced? Oh
what would she face herself? She pulled and struggled at her bindings for
awhile, and he let her, and in the end this reinforced her sense of
helplessness. Above all: would he kill her? Please dear God don't let him
hurt me too much. Her prayer was destined to be unanswered.
After a short while he stopped to uncuff her arms and fix them behind
her back. It wasn't hard. He undid the cord and led her from the car.
She didn't know what to do but to follow his directions. He lifted her,
placed her in the trunk of another car, then continued on for a long time.
His great strength increased her dread. She lay in the blackness, with
nothing to occupy her but terror and her growing need to urinate.
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When he stopped again he just lifted her from the trunk and put her on
the ground. She had to lean against him until she regained her feet. He
held her arms tightly and muscled her along, she stumbling and making very
muted cries through her gag, up a few stairs, then down what seemed like
many, and around, to a place that smelled damp. He pulled off the stocking
cap, untied the belt, let her spit out the ball, and undid her hands.
The lights blinded her for a moment, though they were not bright. She
was in a large room with concrete walls and floor. No windows. Some doors
came off from it. She backed away from him, looking for an escape route,
and he let her. "After you try to escape, I'm going to punish you for it.
Severely. Remember that." Still she ran to the nearest door. It was made
of metal painted to look like wood, and it was locked. She was desperate
and ran to another. Same result. She put her back to it. "You will
regret that. You *will* learn to obey and please me. Now, come to the
middle of the room and strip off all your clothes."
She didn't move, of course, which pleased him to no end. This would be
so much fun. She finally managed to talk: "What are you doing? If it's
money you want we can get it for you. You can't get away. The police will
find you." All the old lines from B-movies, but they were all she could
dredge up. His only answer was to pull out a long, leather whip he had
been holding behind his back and slash her across the hips.
She screamed a hoarse, short, lovely sound, grabbed herself around the
middle with both arms, doubled over, held herself tight. She was trying
not to cry, not succeeding, and her mouth was twisted oddly.
"Now, you'll step to the middle of the room and strip off your clothing.
Then I'll punish you for trying to escape."
She crept to the center, still crying, her eyes rheumy, saying now
"please, please" through twisted lips. Her crying had become stuttering
gasps and hiccups, interspersed with snuffles. Maybe she would be too easy
to master? He didn't do anything, so she began unbuttoning her blouse.
She had trouble pulling the tail out because the pants were too tight. She
unsnapped and unzipped the pants, finished unbuttoning the blouse, and
slipped it off. She didn't know just what to do with it, so held it off
from herself, still crying, still begging "please."
"Just drop it," he said. "You won't be needing it any more."
At those words she stood completely still. Then she fell to the
concrete floor. "Oh please dear God don't kill me. Dear God, I'll do
anything for you." She was having a hard time talking, because of the
crying. "I'll do anything you want. Isn't it enough you took my daughter?
Please don't do this..." and so on. He used the whip again, to shut her
up. Again she shrieked and tried to hold herself very still, but put both
her hands before her eyes and rocked back and forth.
"You'll do anything I say anyway. Now you'll stand up and take off the
rest of your clothes and get ready for your punishment. If you try to
cover yourself with your hands it'll go worse for you."
She rose slowly, crying but no longer begging. He thought that was too
bad, because when he struck her his penis gave him a jolt. She bent to
untie her walking shoes, then slipped them off. It was a bad position.
She stood on one leg to pull the other show off and almost fell both times.
She was shaking, which made it worse. She pushed down the tight slacks,
pulling her panties part way down with them, then yanked the panties back
up. She reached behind to unsnap her bra and hung her head while she
removed it and let her breasts drop into view. They were medium sized,
well defined like pears, with large, dark brown areolas, around which were
a few almost black hairs. She thought she couldn't stand for him to look
at them. Finally she pulled off her panties, revealing her large muff of
mousy brown hair, untrimmed for any bathing suit. She stood with her arms
at her sides, sniffling. She was still shaking, shivering, not from cold.
Everything was in a pile on the floor.
He walked up to her. "You don't ever resist or avoid me. I decide what
happens to you. And you only talk if I want you to." He had not raised his
voice at any time. With that, he ran his palms over her breasts making
circular motions. He pinch her nipples hard to get them to stand erect.
She winced and held her breath and didn't move. He ran his fingers lightly
from her breasts down her belly to her muff. He grabbed a thick plug of
pubic hair and yanked it out, at which she gasped and whimpered. He moved
his hand up to her face, caressed her cheek, caressed her lips with his
right thumb, made her open her mouth and suck in his thumb. When she did
that she started crying again, but still managed to hold herself still.
"Now let's kiss sweetly." His face was right up to hers and she stared
at his mouth. She wanted to keep hers closed from that, but she was
afraid. He said "open your lips" and put his mouth on hers. She forced
hers open and felt his tongue move into her mouth, licking her tongue, her
lips, the inside walls of her mouth. She could smell his breath. His
mouth had a strong taste. She almost gagged.
"Raise you arms above your head. No. As far up as you can raise them."
She raised her arms and noticed for the first time that black leather cuffs
descended from rings in the ceiling, held by ropes. She tried to hold
still while he cuffed her wrists, but she was shaking too much, and he had
to hold them steady himself. Once he had her cuffed he walked to a spot on
the wall that the ropes came to, and pulled until she was all but off the
floor, her toes barely touching. He tied off the ropes. He tied other
ropes to her ankles and used them to pull her legs out toward rings set in
the floor, until her feet were off the floor and she was stretched between
hands and feet. The immobility frightened her still more. Was this when
he killed her?
The stretching pressed her bladder. In a tiny voice she said "I have to
go to the bathroom."
He hit her across the belly again with the whip. This time she cried
loudly and swayed back and forth in her bindings, unable to make any other
movements. "You never talk unless I tell you to. And you hold whatever
you've got until I give you permission to go. What do you have to do?"
A tinier voice: "Wet."
"You can wait until tomorrow for that." She wouldn't have it that long,
and this would be exquisite.
He approached her again and caressed her breasts very gently, then
squeezed and kneaded them and pulled on her nipples. He wet the nipples
with his saliva and when they were slippery he pulled them out until they
popped loose from his fingers. She turned her head away, which was hard to
do as her arms pointed upward in a pyramid form and her upper arms pressed
on her ears. She continued to quake and occasionally to moan quietly, but
mostly she whimpered. He caressed her armpits, smooth from a recent
shaving. He put his face in one and inhaled. He licked it thoroughly,
then he nipped just the top layer of flesh until he broke the skin. He did
the same to the other pit. He licked the drops of blood that formed.
"You won't use anti-perspirent anymore. It want to taste you." He moved
down her belly, licking it and giving more nips, at each of which she
returned a louder, sharper whimper, giving the entire interaction the
appearance of a sweetly and sensually choreographed love scene. When he
rose he did not look sweet, though. "You are fat," he said severely. "You
have a gut and your thighs are completely lumpy. That won't last long,
though. When I'm done with you, you'll be as trim as any eighteen year
old."
He left for a minute, then returned with a paper bag, a clothes basket,
and what looked like a large suitcase. He stuffed all her clothes into the
paper bag, stripped, and carefully folded his clothing before putting it
all in the basket. He had a somewhat hairy body, very muscled, with some
fleshiness. She didn't want to see his penis but couldn't turn away from
it, and there it was, dark and long and round, pointing almost straight at
her, instead of curving upwards like her husband's. The head was large,
too, and the back of it flanged out dramatically. His balls were large and
especially hairy. She knew what was coming.
He spread some lubricant on his shaft, played with himself for a minute,
then applied a gob of lubricant to her vagina, pushing fingers in, pulling
on her labia, thumbing her clitoris. She jerked at the stimulation and
said "no, please, no." He slapped her hard across the face, twice, to make
her stop. He lined up his penis, got it to the entrance of her vagina, and
pushed up into her with one smooth, slow thrust. His penis was so big that
it made her grunt. She felt it bump against her cervix. Feeling him up
and inside her, tight all the way, she started to cry openly again.
He made her open her mouth and gave her deep French kisses. She just
hung there until he made her kiss him back, pushing her tongue into his
mouth and sliding it over and around his tongue, sucking on his tongue,
tasting his strong taste and breathing his breath and drinking his saliva.
He made her hold her tongue in his mouth while he bit it. When she jerked
it back, he grabbed her left breast and twisted almost all the way around
until she pushed her tongue back in and held it there while he chewed on
it. She was trying to scream during this, but his mouth muffled her cries.
Her bladder was bursting, cramping, feeling like she held an electric
wire in her urethra. She didn't think she could hold it much longer. Her
shoulders were starting to ache.
He began fucking her faster, and came for a long time, pushing upward so
hard that his penis and hips lifted her, taking some pressure off her arms
for a moment. "That was the first orgasm you're going to give me tonight."
He murmured it gently into her ear. Then, without any ceremony, he pulled
out of her, reached into the suitcase for a long, thick leather belt, and
started whipping her.
There was no hurry to his whipping. He swung the belt very hard and it
made a splatting sound as it hit. She jumped and yelled that hoarse scream
at the first stroke. There was plenty of time to feel it before the next
one, and again before the next. She again screamed "please, no, God," and
all the rest, though only in short bursts because the belt knocked the wind
from her. The belt was three inches wide, and he covered her pretty
evenly, beginning at her collarbone and moving steadily down to her knees,
taking special care for the insides of her thighs.
Before he was halfway down, she was only shouting "oh" at each stroke,
so quickly was her energy drained. She was gasping, choking, and had begun
sweating so much that a fine spray broke from her at each stroke. It was
when he hit right at her bladder that she pissed all down her legs. He
stopped for just a moment, took her face between his hands and, looking her
right in the eyes, told her : "For disobeying me and not showing any
discipline, I'm going to double your punishment."
When he finished the front he went around back and whipped her from the
base of her neck down to the backs of her knees. The force of the strokes
caused her to swing back and forth. After he reached her knees he went
around to the front and started over. She never stopped crying "oh" as the
belt hit her.
When he was finally finished he inspected her red body like it was a
miraculous find, pulling, pinching, and rubbing skin. His fingers came
away with blood. She hung like a sack, gasping, not even whimpering
anymore.
"That's the way I like you," he told her. He was fully erect again, and
fucked her again, but she didn't react, so he held her head up and made her
suck his tongue again. She was so tired she could hardly do it, and when
he bit her tongue she hadn't the strength to pull it back. When he came
again his prick again lifted her, but she was just a rag doll. Still, when
he came at her again with the broad belt a few minutes later she did say,
in just the tiniest whimper and for the last time that night: "oh no,
please no."
He did her just once over this time. When he was done he put the gag
back on her, inserted ear plugs, and put the stocking cap on her again. He
turned on a white noise machine. Then he turned out the light and left,
closing the door behind him, leaving her hanging in the dark.
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Silent H. Jekyll
Chapter Two: The Bathroom.
Hanging. At some time during the night most of the pains from the
whipping had diminished but the pain in her shoulders and wrists worsened
and worsened again so that she couldn't sleep. She moved into and out of
consciousness, her exhaustion playing a game with her pain. She had tried
to move her shoulders once or twice, and the hurt had been so terrible that
she just hung. When she came out of her little unconscious moments she
heard herself moaning, the only sound she could hear. When conscious she
moaned louder. At some point her toes touched the floor. Something in the
ropes or in her had stretched, and she took a little pressure off her
shoulders and wrists, though her calves soon cramped up. She was
dreadfully thirsty. He mouth was dry and saliva had stopped dripping
around the ball gag. Everything smelled sour.
He was removing the cap, gag and earplugs. She blinked then followed
everything he did. She hadn't known he was there. Had she slept after
all? Yesterday's emotional storm was gone with her strength, but he was
like a dangerous god: she feared him and needed him. He untied her feet
and she moved her legs together. When he loosened the ropes holding up her
arms the pain from the shift in position of her shoulders was so great that
she cried aloud and staggered. She slipped, which yanked her arms back up,
and this hurt so much that she blacked out.
When she awoke she was lying completely untied on a small bed, her arms
by her sides. She couldn't move her shoulders. She wondered where he was,
saw him working on something, tinkering. What would he do to her now? He
walked over to her, squatted down with his face two inches above hers and
said softly: "Now you'll obey me completely, won't you? In everything."
They were statements, not questions.
She just looked up at him and nodded a tiny nod. Her mouth was so dry.
She tried to say "water," couldn't at first get the word out, then managed
to more or less croak it. At that he smiled a beautiful, warm smile and
said: "You're disobeying me already. I told you not to talk unless I gave
permission. I see I will have to punish you again." She lay still, her
face looking like she was crying, but there were no tears. She opened and
closed her mouth several times, licked her lips, tried to swallow.
He made her get up. Because she couldn't use her shoulders she had to
work to roll off the bed and to her feet. She felt weak and light-headed,
as well as so thirsty. Her stomach hurt. He walked her out of the gray
room, she padding along passively, down a gray hall, turned left through a
door, and then they were in a magnificent bathroom. It was brightly lit,
with black and teal tiles, and was warm. It had a lovely profusion of
sinks, a modern toilet, and a sunken bathtub with -- she would find -- a
Jacuzzi.
"Now you can drink." He lifted the seat of the toilet and gestured
toward it. For a moment she did nothing, looked at it stupidly, then at
him, then at it again, as though it were a practical joke and he would soon
say "joke's over." But it wasn't. "You have to the count of ten to get all
the water you can lap up, not using your hands. After that it's another
day before you can drink again." Her eyes got big, but at the count of
"one" she streaked to the john. It took her two more counts to get her
head far enough in, with her shoulders hurting so, but she lapped quickly
and not expertly, getting water up her nose and coughing. It was so good.
At the count of ten he commanded "stop" but she kept drinking, so he
grabbed her and slammed her against a wall. "That's a second punishment
you have coming. We will tally them up during the day." There were stars
meandering about her field of vision.
He made her sit in what she took for a broad hair stylist's chair. She
tried to steel herself for what he would do to her next, but she never
expected what happened -- he simply reclined the chair and washed her hair,
and expertly. His strong hands were very gentle, and she noticed that his
fingers were smooth, soft even. As weak and tired as she was he almost
caused her to drift out. He used a blow-dryer. Then he took a wash rag
and gave her a complete sponge bath. Hot soapy water, a thorough scrub,
then hot clear water. Her body was covered with parallel bruises and welts
from the whipping, so that sometimes this hurt her.
When he was done with that he got a razor and shaving gel. "I'm going
to make you beautiful," he told her, and began to shave her underarms, her
legs, the few darks hairs around her nipples, and her muff. It took him a
long time on the muff, so thick was it, and it looked bizarre when he was
done. It made her feel more naked. Except for being darker and larger her
vagina looked almost like a little girl's. It was at exactly that moment
that she realized she had not thought of her own little girl since right
after she had arrived at this dreadful place. She turned her head aside
and cried for the first time that day, in grief at what she now knew her
daughter must have experienced. She prayed to God to let them both die.
Alas, the answer was no.
He suddenly splashed an astringent on his hands and rubbed her pussy
thoroughly. She grunted and moved her hips and legs, though she couldn't
bring herself to try completely to move away. He next applied baby lotion,
rubbing it outside and inside her lips, pushing his fingers up into her
vagina, softly caressing the nub of her clitoris. She held herself as
still as she could; after a few minutes she felt a stirring, just for a
moment, and she couldn't let him know that. He didn't show whether he
noticed, but told her to stand. He gave her a toothbrush and toothpaste
and told her to clean her mouth. When she was done he made her do it
again, and brush her poor tongue, the roof of her mouth, and the insides of
her cheeks. He made her floss. She could use her shoulders a little,
finally, but the flossing hurt them a lot. Then he had her use mouthwash.
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"Now you're ready to practice discipline," he said. "Your job is to
learn to control yourself and to please me. Kneel on the floor, head down
in your arms, ass in the air." She knew he would begin abusing her again,
now, and that he would be inside of her again. The past half hour there
had been no real physical cruelty, and she had begun thinking that maybe
she would be okay if she just cooperated with him., and maybe after that
first rape it would get easier to take. But what did he mean by
"discipline?"
She knelt on a luxurious bath mat, head on her arms and eyes closed.
She was so tired, and so weak, that even though her thirst was returning
she almost fell asleep right there. Then he was playing with her ass,
caressing it and making light circles around her anus with his fingers.
She liked it when her husband did that; a few times he had pushed a finger
up into her, which had hurt a little and had excited her. She had wondered
if he would like to sodomize her, something their pastor had been railing
about. Her captor pushed a lubricated finger well up into her, then two,
which caused her to utter a little sighing gasp. Then his two thumbs,
which he twisted back and forth, She grunted at this and began trying to
tighten her anus. It hurt, it hurt! Despite her resolve to be silent, she
started asking him to slow down. "Please, just let me get used to it.
I'll do what you want. Please, I'll be obedient. I'll help." He rammed
three fingers into her and she yelled. He pulled away. Then he talked to
her, as usual very softly.
"The inside of your ass is as soft as wet chamois cloth. I intend to
enjoy fucking it frequently, and I will teach you how to maximize the
enjoyment of the man who is fucking you there. You may come to enjoy it
yourself. Who knows? But that isn't the major consideration. We will
clean it out thoroughly, because it is filthy. Look at this!" He held his
fingers out to her. They had smudges of feces on them, particularly around
the nail of his long left finger. He continued. "Smell this," and he put
his fingers up to her face. She could hardly have missed that smell of
shit. "Now, I am extremely disappointed in that outburst you just made.
The penalty for all of that will be to have a complete repetition of
yesterday's punishment, on top of your other punishments." He stopped to
let her consider this, and when she did she fell over on her side. It
would kill her! She couldn't do it! She couldn't! He continued: "Or,
because I am a merciful man, I will forgo that punishment, if you will be
so kind as to use your sweet mouth to clean off my hands, a finger at a
time. You have to the count of ten to decide. One."
She sat up on her knees and reached for his right hand, the
cleaner-looking one. She didn't know if she could do this either. She
prayed again to be allowed to die. She took his right hand, pulled it
softly to her mouth, and began licking the little finger. It didn't seem
to have been used on her. "No, suck and lick it with authority. Treat it
like the sweet little prick on your husband."
She sucked it in deeper and ran her tongue around it. In and out. It
was salty at first. Then the ring finger. In and out. She was a
despicable shit herself. She did everything this monster told her. She
was going to do this thing. She hated herself. She was so afraid of what
he might do, of what he had done and could do again. She was putting her
lips up to the long finger. It looked clean, but it smelt of shit, her
shit. Oh you coward! She took the whole finger in, and it tasted slightly
of shit. She wanted it deep because she thought the finger tip and nail
would have the most taste and she wanted them far from her taste buds. But
he made her take it in and out, and actually the end was no worse.
His index finger had brown on it, a smudge on the side. She hesitated,
then her fear brought obedience and she sucked it in entirely. The shit
was strong tasting, her tongue pushed at it and it felt gritty. She
retched, a deep, gut-wrenching gag, and made a sound like flatulence in her
throat. She held the finger in her mouth and tried to control herself and
to dilute the shit. She heaved again and had to stop for a moment. She
took the finger in and out, swallowing.
His voice was beautiful, modulated and deep. He said: "This is how I
like you best, how you please me the most. Working to overcome yourself,
trying to be able to eat shit for me. Your mouth feels so good when you
heave. You abase yourself well. It will be very good when I fuck your ass
and then have you clean all your shit off my prick with your sweet mouth.
I'm getting incredibly hard thinking about it."
She took the thumb in. In was like the long finger and so was easier to
suck. She seemed to have control of her stomach again. She couldn't tell
if she'd gotten the finger clean because a miasma of shit hung around her
mouth. She moved to the little finger of his left hand. She was getting
close to the long left finger. When she got there she heaved again, gained
control, then did it again. She made guttural sounds when she did it. She
managed to get the finger into her mouth and to get the largest part of
shit off, then retched again and had to hold herself perfectly still for a
moment. Her eyes were watering. She had shit on her tongue and had to
swallow, but she couldn't at first. Finally it all went down. It was
really only a tiny amount. There was no more shit after that.
When he let her up she ran to the toilet and hung over it, heaving
horribly, but only a little, almost clear, mucus came up. She hadn't eaten
in a full day, and the small amount of water she'd gotten was gone already.
He said, "I didn't tell you to expel any of the shit. We will add that to
your tally of disobedience." Limp on the porcelain, she cried a dry,
moaning cry onto the back of one hand.
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He made her get up and sit back on her ankles. He would use her now
that she was completely debased. It was too good to waste. There would be
time for more later, as well, but this would be the best. He liked to have
his captives suck him once they were reasonably cowed. It was better than
just raping them, because the mouth really was the center of their being,
because they hated it more, and because they had to actively work to give
him pleasure instead of just lying there like they could being fucked.
He undressed, as before carefully folding his clothing. He walked over
to her, his stiff penis pointing at her. "My sweet kitten, you're going to
suck me now. You need to be very, very good and very, very sweet, and give
me maximum pleasure. I'll instruct you as you go, but I don't tolerate any
slacking. Use that pretty mouth of yours for what it was intended -- to
pleasure the man who masters you. This will give you the chance to take
part in your own domination."
She reached up the short distance to his prick and pulled it slightly
downward to her mouth. She did not hesitate, would not hesitate for
anything he demanded now. She took the head in her mouth. It was so much
larger around than her husband's that she had to open her mouth especially
wide to take it in. She remembered the running commentary of her friends,
that any rapist must have a tiny cock that wouldn't interest a woman. He
was uncircumcised, and the head was slippery with pre-cum. It tasted just
like her husband's penis, a little like bitter urine and a bit of an off,
meaty flavor. She tried to be good, remembering what her husband
especially liked, using her tongue and cheeks, tickling his shaft with her
fingers, tickling his balls. She didn't generally like fellatio, but she
loved her husband and it excited him. She would do anything but let him
come in her mouth. But her captor would do that, she was sure. Could it
be any worse than the shit?
Usually when she sucked her husband they followed with straight fucking,
but a few times she had sucked him right to orgasm, pulled him out of her
mouth at the last possible moment, and pumped him onto his belly. She was
fascinated by what it did on its own, jumping on its own, pulsating in her
hand, and spitting out slime. It made her think of an eel. They followed
with him using a vibrator on her, while she thought about taking his semen
in her mouth, secretly wishing she were brave enough to do it at least
once.
He pushed his penis deep into her mouth and it choked her. He pulled
out most of the way and she licked and sucked just the head. More fluid
seeped out of the hole, and she swallowed it. She concentrated: please
him, pleasure him, be good, do it right. She tickled his balls and pumped
the shaft into her mouth. He held her head and moved his dick deep into
her again, then out. She tried to time her breathing to his thrusts. He
was going faster. Then he pushed it far in and twitched it in and out
rapidly and spurted cum into her mouth. He was saying "yes, yes" almost
breathlessly. The penis spurted only at the start, then flowed. The cum
was surprisingly aromatic. She couldn't do anything but swallow and
swallow, and when he was finished he made her keep the dick in her mouth
for several minutes, while it shrank back down. She had done it and she
was sure she had pleased him. It hadn't been as bad as she had thought.
It hadn't made her nauseous.
She knelt before him with his penis in her mouth, sucking slightly until
it softened completely and was a warm, soft mass that fit completely inside
her. He kept one hand on her head, holding her all the way to him, so her
nose was pushed into his public hairs and her forehead pushed against his
soft, belly skin. She kept one hand on his balls and the other resting
flat against one of his thighs. Her mouth was filled with the flavor of
semen and penis, and her nose with the musk odor of his lower body. A
small amount of semen continued to seep out of him, and she continued to
suck it down. It was more intimate than she had ever been with a man in
her entire life.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Finally he stepped away from her, his penis slipping from her mouth. He
had a very slight smile. "You will be rewarded for that," he told her, and
her heart soared for the briefest time. "You will please me well, I'm
sure. Now there are things to do. Keep obeying completely like that, so
that you don't add to you punishments." At that she shrank back into
herself, and her head drooped.
He told her to get back into the position with her head down and her ass
up. When she did he lubricated her anus with something and threaded a hose
into her. She knew it would be an enema. She hadn't had one since the
period after the birth of her son. Her captor fiddled with something at a
sink and warm liquid began pouring into her. When there was as much liquid
in her as she remembered she expected it to stop, but it didn't. She
became fuller. She made a squeaking gasp to get his attention without
speaking, but he let it continue. She was too full; her belly cramped. He
let more in.
When finally he shut off the flow and pulled the hose out of her rectum
she was moaning again and swinging her hips back and forth to try to reduce
the pressure. She stared at the toilet. Her captor, though, caressed her
back and her flanks and told her to hold herself still. Didn't he know how
much he had put in her?
He told her to stand and she did, stiff legged, her butt held tightly in
a knot to help keep her ass closed. "Go stand in the tub," he told her.
"You're going to practice discipline. Hold the water in for thirty
minutes."
Her eyes were wild. She stepped into the tub, holding herself as
tightly as she could. She held her belly with her arms. She couldn't stop
it. He had put something else in her besides water. She held and held and
all of a sudden water and feces exploded from her, splattering on the tub
floor and sides, spraying her legs with detritus. After the first burst
there were two shorter ones, less violent, that splashed straight onto the
tub floor. The smell of shit covered any other smell. She felt the urge
to shit more, but nothing more came out, so she just stood swaying among
the feces and water, not knowing what to do. Meanwhile, her captor stood
across the bathroom, leaning against a sink, his arms crossed casually.
"Oh, you're a very bad little girl. Couldn't last even five minutes,
could you? Your daughter is much more disciplined than you are." She swung
her head toward him. What? He went on: "I don't think she'll like how
poorly you performed. Maybe I'll let her help with your punishment -- lord
knows you've just gotten a lot more added on, with this sorry performance."
"Well, what shall we do? You're already filthy, so why don't you just
carry it around with you as a reminder? That's right, pick up some nice
big pieces. Smear them on your face. Do it now! Now all over your tits!
On your cunt! Do it immediately or I'll whip the skin right off your
worthless cunt! Now run it through your hair."
He was rushing her, making her terror and self-loathing increase. When
she had finished what he told her, he had her put her arms behind her back
and he cuffed them. He attached a dog collar and a leash and walked her
out of the bathroom into a gray hall and to another gray room. She was
dizzy, and sick with the smell, while he had gotten another erection.
The room had several pieces of exercise equipment. "We're going to work
on that flab every day," he said. He made her get on a treadmill. She
couldn't lean on the front bar because her hands were bound behind her. He
started the treadmill, then increased the speed, and she ran out of steam
almost immediately. She started to stumble, so he got a large, leather
paddle and hit her on the flanks, the belly, the back, all over. It kept
her going, gasping and staggering, until she fell hard to the floor of the
treadmill and was pushed off by it.
She lay on the cement floor of the room, no longer responding to the
paddle with anything but breathless cries. In a bit he stopped. He left
her for a moment, then made her get up. He used the leash to walk her back
to the original room, a walk that took some doing, as she kept stumbling
and her knees kept giving out. In the room he inserted ear plugs, attached
the gag, and pulled down the stocking mask. He tied her feet apart to the
same ropes as the previous night. She was swaying and seemed ready to
fall. He uncuffed her arms, cuffed them to the ropes over her head, and
pulled them upward until she was airborne again. Now, finally, she bleated
like a sheep and twisted her body back, forth, for a few minutes, then
finally just hung and moaned like last night. Everything smelled of shit,
but she hardly noticed it. He turned off the light and left her in the
dark.
Chapter Two: The Bathroom.
Hanging. At some time during the night most of the
pains from the whipping had diminished but the pain in
her shoulders and wrists worsened and worsened again
so that she couldn't sleep. She moved into and out of
consciousness, her exhaustion playing a game with her
pain. She had tried to move her shoulders once or
twice, and the hurt had been so terrible that she just
hung. When she came out of her little unconscious
moments she heard herself moaning, the only sound she
could hear. When conscious she moaned louder. At
some point her toes touched the floor. Something in
the ropes or in her had stretched, and she took a
little pressure off her shoulders and wrists, though
her calves soon cramped up. She was dreadfully
thirsty. He mouth was dry and saliva had stopped
dripping around the ball gag. Everything smelled
sour.
He was removing the cap, gag and earplugs. She
blinked then followed everything he did. She hadn't
known he was there. Had she slept after all?
Yesterday's emotional storm was gone with her
strength, but he was like a dangerous god: she feared
him and needed him. He untied her feet and she moved
her legs together. When he loosened the ropes holding
up her arms the pain from the shift in position of her
shoulders was so great that she cried aloud and
staggered. She slipped, which yanked her arms back
up, and this hurt so much that she blacked out.
When she awoke she was lying completely untied on a
small bed, her arms by her sides. She couldn't move
her shoulders. She wondered where he was, saw him
working on something, tinkering. What would he do to
her now? He walked over to her, squatted down with
his face two inches above hers and said softly: "Now
you'll obey me completely, won't you? In everything."
They were statements, not questions.
She just looked up at him and nodded a tiny nod. Her
mouth was so dry. She tried to say "water," couldn't
at first get the word out, then managed to more or
less croak it. At that he smiled a beautiful, warm
smile and said: "You're disobeying me already. I
told you not to talk unless I gave permission. I see
I will have to punish you again." She lay still, her
face looking like she was crying, but there were no
tears. She opened and closed her mouth several times,
licked her lips, tried to swallow.
He made her get up. Because she couldn't use her
shoulders she had to work to roll off the bed and to
her feet. She felt weak and light-headed, as well as
so thirsty. Her stomach hurt. He walked her out of
the gray room, she padding along passively, down a
gray hall, turned left through a door, and then they
were in a magnificent bathroom. It was brightly lit,
with black and teal tiles, and was warm. It had a
lovely profusion of sinks, a modern toilet, and a
sunken bathtub with -- she would find -- a Jacuzzi.
"Now you can drink." He lifted the seat of the
toilet and gestured toward it. For a moment she did
nothing, looked at it stupidly, then at him, then at
it again, as though it were a practical joke and he
would soon say "joke's over." But it wasn't. "You
have to the count of ten to get all the water you can
lap up, not using your hands. After that it's another
day before you can drink again." Her eyes got big,
but at the count of "one" she streaked to the john.
It took her two more counts to get her head far enough
in, with her shoulders hurting so, but she lapped
quickly and not expertly, getting water up her nose
and coughing. It was so good. At the count of ten he
commanded "stop" but she kept drinking, so he grabbed
her and slammed her against a wall. "That's a second
punishment you have coming. We will tally them up
during the day." There were stars meandering about
her field of vision.
He made her sit in what she took for a broad hair
stylist's chair. She tried to steel herself for what
he would do to her next, but she never expected what
happened -- he simply reclined the chair and washed
her hair, and expertly. His strong hands were very
gentle, and she noticed that his fingers were smooth,
soft even. As weak and tired as she was he almost
caused her to drift out. He used a blow-dryer. Then
he took a wash rag and gave her a complete sponge
bath. Hot soapy water, a thorough scrub, then hot
clear water. Her body was covered with parallel
bruises and welts from the whipping, so that sometimes
this hurt her.
When he was done with that he got a razor and shaving
gel. "I'm going to make you beautiful," he told her,
and began to shave her underarms, her legs, the few
darks hairs around her nipples, and her muff. It took
him a long time on the muff, so thick was it, and it
looked bizarre when he was done. It made her feel
more naked. Except for being darker and larger her
vagina looked almost like a little girl's. It was at
exactly that moment that she realized she had not
thought of her own little girl since right after she
had arrived at this dreadful place. She turned her
head aside and cried for the first time that day, in
grief at what she now knew her daughter must have
experienced. She prayed to God to let them both die.
Alas, the answer was no.
He suddenly splashed an astringent on his hands and
rubbed her pussy thoroughly. She grunted and moved her
hips and legs, though she couldn't bring herself to
try completely to move away. He next applied baby
lotion, rubbing it outside and inside her lips,
pushing his fingers up into her vagina, softly
caressing the nub of her clitoris. She held herself
as still as she could; after a few minutes she felt a
stirring, just for a moment, and she couldn't let him
know that. He didn't show whether he noticed, but
told her to stand. He gave her a toothbrush and
toothpaste and told her to clean her mouth. When she
was done he made her do it again, and brush her poor
tongue, the roof of her mouth, and the insides of her
cheeks. He made her floss. She could use her
shoulders a little, finally, but the flossing hurt
them a lot. Then he had her use mouthwash.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
"Now you're ready to practice discipline," he said.
"Your job is to learn to control yourself and to
please me. Kneel on the floor, head down in your arms,
ass in the air." She knew he would begin abusing her
again, now, and that he would be inside of her again.
The past half hour there had been no real physical
cruelty, and she had begun thinking that maybe she
would be okay if she just cooperated with him., and
maybe after that first rape it would get easier to
take. But what did he mean by "discipline?"
She knelt on a luxurious bath mat, head on her arms
and eyes closed. She was so tired, and so weak, that
even though her thirst was returning she almost fell
asleep right there. Then he was playing with her ass,
caressing it and making light circles around her anus
with his fingers. She liked it when her husband did
that; a few times he had pushed a finger up into her,
which had hurt a little and had excited her. She had
wondered if he would like to sodomize her, something
their pastor had been railing about. Her captor
pushed a lubricated finger well up into her, then two,
which caused her to utter a little sighing gasp. Then
his two thumbs, which he twisted back and forth, She
grunted at this and began trying to tighten her anus.
It hurt, it hurt! Despite her resolve to be silent,
she started asking him to slow down. "Please, just
let me get used to it. I'll do what you want.
Please, I'll be obedient. I'll help." He rammed
three fingers into her and she yelled. He pulled
away. Then he talked to her, as usual very softly.
"The inside of your ass is as soft as wet chamois
cloth. I intend to enjoy fucking it frequently, and I
will teach you how to maximize the enjoyment of the
man who is fucking you there. You may come to enjoy
it yourself. Who knows? But that isn't the major
consideration. We will clean it out thoroughly,
because it is filthy. Look at this!" He held his
fingers out to her. They had smudges of feces on
them, particularly around the nail of his long left
finger. He continued. "Smell this," and he put his
fingers up to her face. She could hardly have missed
that smell of shit. "Now, I am extremely disappointed
in that outburst you just made. The penalty for all
of that will be to have a complete repetition of
yesterday's punishment, on top of your other
punishments." He stopped to let her consider this,
and when she did she fell over on her side. It would
kill her! She couldn't do it! She couldn't! He
continued: "Or, because I am a merciful man, I will
forgo that punishment, if you will be so kind as to
use your sweet mouth to clean off my hands, a finger
at a time. You have to the count of ten to decide.
One."
She sat up on her knees and reached for his right
hand, the cleaner-looking one. She didn't know if she
could do this either. She prayed again to be allowed
to die. She took his right hand, pulled it softly to
her mouth, and began licking the little finger. It
didn't seem to have been used on her. "No, suck and
lick it with authority. Treat it like the sweet
little prick on your husband."
She sucked it in deeper and ran her tongue around it.
In and out. It was salty at first. Then the ring
finger. In and out. She was a despicable shit
herself. She did everything this monster told her.
She was going to do this thing. She hated herself.
She was so afraid of what he might do, of what he had
done and could do again. She was putting her lips up
to the long finger. It looked clean, but it smelt of
shit, her shit. Oh you coward! She took the whole
finger in, and it tasted slightly of shit. She wanted
it deep because she thought the finger tip and nail
would have the most taste and she wanted them far from
her taste buds. But he made her take it in and out,
and actually the end was no worse.
His index finger had brown on it, a smudge on the
side. She hesitated, then her fear brought obedience
and she sucked it in entirely. The shit was strong
tasting, her tongue pushed at it and it felt gritty.
She retched, a deep, gut-wrenching gag, and made a
sound like flatulence in her throat. She held the
finger in her mouth and tried to control herself and
to dilute the shit. She heaved again and had to stop
for a moment. She took the finger in and out,
swallowing.
His voice was beautiful, modulated and deep. He
said: "This is how I like you best, how you please me
the most. Working to overcome yourself, trying to be
able to eat shit for me. Your mouth feels so good
when you heave. You abase yourself well. It will be
very good when I fuck your ass and then have you clean
all your shit off my prick with your sweet mouth. I'm
getting incredibly hard thinking about it."
She took the thumb in. In was like the long finger
and so was easier to suck. She seemed to have control
of her stomach again. She couldn't tell if she'd
gotten the finger clean because a miasma of shit hung
around her mouth. She moved to the little finger of
his left hand. She was getting close to the long left
finger. When she got there she heaved again, gained
control, then did it again. She made guttural sounds
when she did it. She managed to get the finger into
her mouth and to get the largest part of shit off,
then retched again and had to hold herself perfectly
still for a moment. Her eyes were watering. She had
shit on her tongue and had to swallow, but she
couldn't at first. Finally it all went down. It was
really only a tiny amount. There was no more shit
after that.
When he let her up she ran to the toilet and hung
over it, heaving horribly, but only a little, almost
clear, mucus came up. She hadn't eaten in a full day,
and the small amount of water she'd gotten was gone
already. He said, "I didn't tell you to expel any of
the shit. We will add that to your tally of
disobedience." Limp on the porcelain, she cried a
dry, moaning cry onto the back of one hand.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
He made her get up and sit back on her ankles. He
would use her now that she was completely debased. It
was too good to waste. There would be time for more
later, as well, but this would be the best. He liked
to have his captives suck him once they were
reasonably cowed. It was better than just raping
them, because the mouth really was the center of their
being, because they hated it more, and because they
had to actively work to give him pleasure instead of
just lying there like they could being fucked.
He undressed, as before carefully folding his
clothing. He walked over to her, his stiff penis
pointing at her. "My sweet kitten, you're going to
suck me now. You need to be very, very good and very,
very sweet, and give me maximum pleasure. I'll
instruct you as you go, but I don't tolerate any
slacking. Use that pretty mouth of yours for what it
was intended -- to pleasure the man who masters you.
This will give you the chance to take part in your own
domination."
She reached up the short distance to his prick and
pulled it slightly downward to her mouth. She did not
hesitate, would not hesitate for anything he demanded
now. She took the head in her mouth. It was so much
larger around than her husband's that she had to open
her mouth especially wide to take it in. She
remembered the running commentary of her friends, that
any rapist must have a tiny cock that wouldn't
interest a woman. He was uncircumcised, and the head
was slippery with pre-cum. It tasted just like her
husband's penis, a little like bitter urine and a bit
of an off, meaty flavor. She tried to be good,
remembering what her husband especially liked, using
her tongue and cheeks, tickling his shaft with her
fingers, tickling his balls. She didn't generally
like fellatio, but she loved her husband and it
excited him. She would do anything but let him come
in her mouth. But her captor would do that, she was
sure. Could it be any worse than the shit?
Usually when she sucked her husband they followed with
straight fucking, but a few times she had sucked him
right to orgasm, pulled him out of her mouth at the
last possible moment, and pumped him onto his belly.
She was fascinated by what it did on its own, jumping
on its own, pulsating in her hand, and spitting out
slime. It made her think of an eel. They followed
with him using a vibrator on her, while she thought
about taking his semen in her mouth, secretly wishing
she were brave enough to do it at least once.
He pushed his penis deep into her mouth and it choked
her. He pulled out most of the way and she licked and
sucked just the head. More fluid seeped out of the
hole, and she swallowed it. She concentrated: please
him, pleasure him, be good, do it right. She tickled
his balls and pumped the shaft into her mouth. He
held her head and moved his dick deep into her again,
then out. She tried to time her breathing to his
thrusts. He was going faster. Then he pushed it far
in and twitched it in and out rapidly and spurted cum
into her mouth. He was saying "yes, yes" almost
breathlessly. The penis spurted only at the start,
then flowed. The cum was surprisingly aromatic. She
couldn't do anything but swallow and swallow, and when
he was finished he made her keep the dick in her mouth
for several minutes, while it shrank back down. She
had done it and she was sure she had pleased him. It
hadn't been as bad as she had thought. It hadn't made
her nauseous.
She knelt before him with his penis in her mouth,
sucking slightly until it softened completely and was
a warm, soft mass that fit completely inside her. He
kept one hand on her head, holding her all the way to
him, so her nose was pushed into his public hairs and
her forehead pushed against his soft, belly skin. She
kept one hand on his balls and the other resting flat
against one of his thighs. Her mouth was filled with
the flavor of semen and penis, and her nose with the
musk odor of his lower body. A small amount of semen
continued to seep out of him, and she continued to
suck it down. It was more intimate than she had ever
been with a man in her entire life.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Finally he stepped away from her, his penis slipping
from her mouth. He had a very slight smile. "You
will be rewarded for that," he told her, and her heart
soared for the briefest time. "You will please me
well, I'm sure. Now there are things to do. Keep
obeying completely like that, so that you don't add to
you punishments." At that she shrank back into
herself, and her head drooped.
He told her to get back into the position with her
head down and her ass up. When she did he lubricated
her anus with something and threaded a hose into her.
She knew it would be an enema. She hadn't had one
since the period after the birth of her son. Her
captor fiddled with something at a sink and warm
liquid began pouring into her. When there was as much
liquid in her as she remembered she expected it to
stop, but it didn't. She became fuller. She made a
squeaking gasp to get his attention without speaking,
but he let it continue. She was too full; her belly
cramped. He let more in.
When finally he shut off the flow and pulled the hose
out of her rectum she was moaning again and swinging
her hips back and forth to try to reduce the pressure.
She stared at the toilet. Her captor, though,
caressed her back and her flanks and told her to hold
herself still. Didn't he know how much he had put in
her?
He told her to stand and she did, stiff legged, her
butt held tightly in a knot to help keep her ass
closed. "Go stand in the tub," he told her. "You're
going to practice discipline. Hold the water in for
thirty minutes."
Her eyes were wild. She stepped into the tub, holding
herself as tightly as she could. She held her belly
with her arms. She couldn't stop it. He had put
something else in her besides water. She held and
held and all of a sudden water and feces exploded from
her, splattering on the tub floor and sides, spraying
her legs with detritus. After the first burst there
were two shorter ones, less violent, that splashed
straight onto the tub floor. The smell of shit
covered any other smell. She felt the urge to shit
more, but nothing more came out, so she just stood
swaying among the feces and water, not knowing what to
do. Meanwhile, her captor stood across the bathroom,
leaning against a sink, his arms crossed casually.
"Oh, you're a very bad little girl. Couldn't last
even five minutes, could you? Your daughter is much
more disciplined than you are." She swung her head
toward him. What? He went on: "I don't think she'll
like how poorly you performed. Maybe I'll let her
help with your punishment -- lord knows you've just
gotten a lot more added on, with this sorry
performance."
"Well, what shall we do? You're already filthy, so why
don't you just carry it around with you as a reminder?
That's right, pick up some nice big pieces. Smear
them on your face. Do it now! Now all over your
tits! On your cunt! Do it immediately or I'll whip
the skin right off your worthless cunt! Now run it
through your hair."
He was rushing her, making her terror and
self-loathing increase. When she had finished what he
told her, he had her put her arms behind her back and
he cuffed them. He attached a dog collar and a leash
and walked her out of the bathroom into a gray hall
and to another gray room. She was dizzy, and sick
with the smell, while he had gotten another erection.
The room had several pieces of exercise equipment.
"We're going to work on that flab every day," he said.
He made her get on a treadmill. She couldn't lean on
the front bar because her hands were bound behind her.
He started the treadmill, then increased the speed,
and she ran out of steam almost immediately. She
started to stumble, so he got a large, leather paddle
and hit her on the flanks, the belly, the back, all
over. It kept her going, gasping and staggering,
until she fell hard to the floor of the treadmill and
was pushed off by it.
She lay on the cement floor of the room, no longer
responding to the paddle with anything but breathless
cries. In a bit he stopped. He left her for a
moment, then made her get up. He used the leash to
walk her back to the original room, a walk that took
some doing, as she kept stumbling and her knees kept
giving out. In the room he inserted ear plugs,
attached the gag, and pulled down the stocking mask.
He tied her feet apart to the same ropes as the
previous night. She was swaying and seemed ready to
fall. He uncuffed her arms, cuffed them to the ropes
over her head, and pulled them upward until she was
airborne again. Now, finally, she bleated like a
sheep and twisted her body back, forth, for a few
minutes, then finally just hung and moaned like last
night. Everything smelled of shit, but she hardly
noticed it. He turned off the light and left her in
the dark.
Chapter Three: Domination
"Can you be an obedient little girl?" She finally noticed that he was
talking. She was hardly there, but she did try to nod. Did she? He was
saying something she couldn't follow. Someone's shoulders hurt. She
didn't notice the shit anymore.
She did notice that he was scrubbing her with a warm, wet cloth. He
washed her face gently, and when she smelled the water she tried to touch
it with her tongue. "Don't do that! It's filthy." She tried to keep her
tongue in her mouth, to resist the moisture. Oh, it was so alluring. She
managed to keep her mouth closed while he washed her hair.
She wasn't there again, then was again and found that her legs were
untied. Her arms were being loosened. She fell outright this time,
pulling her arms up, screamed the most beautifully agonized scream, and
passed out again.
When she came around this time she was again lying on a bed or
something, but she was spread-eagled, her arms bound to two corners and her
legs to the others. She was blindfolded and ear-plugged, but the gag was
gone. Her shoulders hurt but she wasn't tied rigidly. Primarily she was
crazy for water. She couldn't swallow. When she moved her tongue in her
mouth it came away dry. She kept opening and closing her mouth, trying to
get a feel of liquid. Her lips were dry and chapped. She writhed her body
on the bed, passed out again, and awoke from a dream in which she was
drinking and drinking the coldest water, but not slaking her thirst. It
didn't matter what he had said about speaking. She would ask for water.
But she couldn't, not really. The parts of her throat and mouth didn't
move together as they should. She finally whispered "wha-der."
He pulled out the ear plugs, to speak to her. "I have water for you.
Open your mouth only a little." After her mouth was open he did something
with a container, then bent over her. He pressed his mouth against hers
hard, formed a seal, and blew a mouthful of water into her. The breath of
life. She coughed, then swallowed and swallowed. More! He pulled his
mouth away, then leaned back over and did it again. She couldn't get
enough. That beautiful, despicable mouth! After the second mouthful she
reached for his mouth with hers when she felt him leaning close. He kept
his mouth on hers after she swallowed, and sucked on her tongue. She moved
her tongue against his, moved her lips over his. Then he brought her more
water, and they kissed again. She didn't know what she was feeling. After
so long a time with no sensations except her pains, no vision and no
hearing, a soft, wet tongue and lips were appetizing. He was gentle with
her. She felt grateful, and she didn't want it to stop, though she knew he
was a demon. She didn't know how to resist.
He let her take as much water as she wanted, bending over her again and
again, kissing deeply each time, until her stomach hurt with the pressure
of the water.
She heard some rustling and then felt him kneeling between her legs. He
began lubricating her vagina, taking a long time with labia, clitoris, her
hole, pulling and caressing with more and more goop. She started feeling
pleasure and tried to hold herself still.
He entered her with his big salami of a penis and began fucking very
slowly. There was so much pressure in her, and as before his prick punched
her cervix when he pushed all the way in. She could not see him, or feel
him with her hands, and her sex was where she was receiving stimulation.
He began kissing her deeply again and she responded. She had to, and she
wanted to. She sucked on his lips and let him have her tongue again and
didn't try to draw it back when he bit it, though she made a sound
somewhere between a moan and a cry when he did it. This withholder and
provider of water, this demon controller of misery and pleasure. He played
lightly with her nipples, tickled her arms very slowly, from her wrists to
her arm pits, then licked her pits. She became hot. She was afraid if he
knew he was pleasuring her he would stop, but she was breathing fast into
his mouth and now she was moving her hips against his.
He came, pushing deeply into her while he did, then lay on her for a few
minutes before pulling out of her. She lay quietly, hoping he would
continue, do anything to keep the sensations going. Her pussy felt empty,
and she twitched her vagina, tried to move her thighs together, hoping for
some sensation. Nothing. He plugged her ears, turned on the white noise
machine, and left.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
She was alone in the dark and silence a long time again. He left her
long enough for her desire to evaporate slowly, long enough for her to
wonder if he would ever return, to go through two panic periods in which
she struggled with her bonds and screamed unanswered cries for him; long
enough to drift into sex-filled dreams in which her husband was fucking her
but then turned into her captor, who fucked her and fucked her until she
was almost coming.
She was alone long enough for her stomach to begin working. How long
since she'd eaten? Two days? Three days? Now she grew sick with hunger,
her stomach hurt, desire for food overcame sexual desire. Her dreams,
during her drifting periods, were of banquets, filled with the smells of
Thanksgiving. She writhed again, but for food.
When she awoke again her shoulders still ached. He was leaning over
her, pulling at her ear plugs again. "Now you will have part of your
punishment." She froze. No. But he starting whipping her with something
flat. At first she merely jerked and said "oh" with each stroke, but as
time wore on she lost her composure. She bounced her body on the bed,
rolled as far as she could from side to side, screamed with each stroke.
She began begging him to stop, promising to be good. He leaned over and
told her that this would increase the punishment she earned.
He unfastened her arms, sat her up, then fastened them behind her. She
was sobbing those hiccupy sobs again when he knelt down between her legs
again. His penis was at her mouth. She took it in, even while sobbing,
trying to remember how best to pleasure him. The heat and meatiness of it
and the fact that she could suck on it were good, and after a bit she
stopped sobbing. When he came into her mouth, in the same copious
quantities as before, she swallowed quickly, really just wishing there were
more.
Then he fastened her in her original position, inserted the ear plugs,
whipped her some more, and left.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
When next he came to her she felt she was dying. Silly girl! She was
only in misery. He completely loosened her, then fastened her hands
together behind. She needed food. She needed water. She was afraid to
say anything, actually to make any sounds at all. He led her to the
exercise room and made her run the treadmill, hitting her with a crop to
keep her going, so weak was she, until she stumbled off, lay on the floor
gasping, and didn't respond to the crop any more. Then he freed her hands
and made her lift small weights in several different exercises.
He rechained her arms behind her, walked her to the bathroom again, let
her drink from the toilet again, then washed and shaved her. He gave her
another enema but let her empty herself in the toilet. It was all water.
He led her to a room she hadn't seen before. It looked like a
well-appointed dining room. The furniture was dark mahogany, and it sat on
a rich Persian carpet. He made her kneel by a chair at the table and wait,
while he went to the next room. By now all she could think about was food.
Already she was becoming accustomed to being mastered. How long ago was
it - two or three days? - since she had thought she would rescue her poor
daughter? Now she was just a poor, miserable captive herself, with no
control over any part of her existence. If he told her to eat shit, she
did. If he ordered her to suffer silently, she suffered silently. If he
wanted to hurt her beyond her ability to stand the pain, he had shown that
it was easy. If he wanted her to desire being fucked by him, she did that
too, and it was for that, that she loathed herself the most . Though she
didn't really feel much loathing, just a deep, hollow gloom. She was
afraid to hate him.
And now she smelled something cooking! Oh my God! It was bacon and
eggs. Hot spattering grease and butter. Then the smell of toast. Coffee!
She had to make the strongest effort in her life to keep from crawling over
to the door he had gone through. Please don't torture me this way.
He came out with a tray filled with food, an enormous, steaming heap of
scrambled eggs cooked with bits of bacon, toast with butter and preserves,
a pitcher of orange juice, and coffee with cream and sugar. He sat down
and proceeded to eat right in front of her. She knelt rigidly upright,
just like a dog who has been trained to sit pretty. She couldn't take her
eyes off the food. She smelled it with breaths so deep they made her
dizzy. But she didn't move and she didn't talk. She thought that would
please him. She was right.
After a bit he dabbed his mouth and said, "You are learning to be
obedient and disciplined. It's time to let you eat a little." He gestured
for her to move right up to him and lean toward him. He took a large
mouthful of eggs. He chewed them a bit, then leaned over to her. He put
his mouth on hers tightly, then pushed and spat a mush of bacon and eggs
into her mouth.
She could see what was coming and didn't care. She took the eggs in,
tasted them briefly, and swallowed. It was just like with the water. She
wanted more. He took some orange juice and gave it to her the same way.
It had pulp and was sweet. Masticated toast was next. The taste of the
butter lingered.
His mouth. Never had she desired a mouth on hers so much. She sucked
mashed eggs off his tongue and slurped them down. She ran her tongue over
his teeth to find bits she had missed. When some coffee (rich with sugar
and cream) dribbled down his chin she licked it off. He gave her several
mouthfuls of each item. Of course they kissed deeply between bites, which
slowed down the eating. It was not nearly enough, though already her
stomach felt full. Then he spoke.
"This is how you will eat. Your food will come out of me. If I am busy
I will serve you something in a dog bowl. If you are defiant, or stupid,
you will not eat. Do you have anything you want to say, now?"
To say? She was flabbergasted. She had never expected this. She
didn't know how to address him. He hadn't instructed her. She finally
decided that she should call him "master," to be safe.
"Master. Is my daughter alive? Will I see her?"
He chuckled and caressed her face, then a breast. "Master? That's a
nice touch. Of course your daughter's alive. You'll see her in due time.
You need to earn that, by pleasing me. Now we'll go back to your room"
She had to ask him one more thing. It might help her, but it might
bring more pain. She screwed up her wee courage and asked: "Why do you
hurt me so much?" Her voice was high, soft, plaintive. The voice of one
who didn't want to offend. "I'll do anything you want. I'll be good. You
don't have to do that." He stared down at her, a severe look to his face,
and she shrank down within herself.
Then he smiled. "Oh, we have a bold one, now. Not one question, but
two!" Her breath was fast and shallow. "Well, I'll answer you. It fills
me with pleasure to hurt you, and your purpose is to provide my pleasure,
so that's that. But there are other reasons, too. You have, first of all,
several punishments unfulfilled, and we have some catching up to do. There
is, secondly, the fact that you will be more obedient if your memory of the
bite of the whip, or whatever, is fresh, as you'll know it could always be
worse." During this, her face had grown more and more grim, and her whole
body had slumped. "And finally, birthing has never been an easy process.
The new you that will come from this will be so much more willing and
compliant, even eager to please and follow instructions. You'll scarcely
recognize yourself. This is the hardest time for you, because you're still
fighting against your need to submit completely and permanently. But
you'll come around. You'll see. And when you do you'll have pleasure that
you never even dreamed about."
Nothing else was said. There was hardly a need to. He walked her back
to her cell, in the middle of which were stocks.
Chapter Four: The stocks
She looked at the stocks blankly, dumbly, wondering
when he had had time to install them. They were low.
She would have to kneel very low indeed to be placed
in them. There were holes for her neck and her
wrists, just above the floor, and they were padded
with what looked like suede. The area on which she
would kneel, on which he now told her to kneel, felt
like gym mats. She put her neck through the large
center opening and her wrists through the two on the
sides. He closed the top down. The fit was very
snug, as though he had made them for her. He spread
her knees and ankles apart and fastened them with
something. She cooperated completely, and was not
uncomfortable.
He brought over a device that was plugged into a
wall socket. It was small, like a computer mouse,
with two long probes, each of which was insulated
except for the last half inch.
He said, "I don't like all the bruises you're
getting. I need to punish you without leaving so many
marks. This should help." He touched the probes to a
nipple, pushed a button on the device, and her nipple
instantly exploded in a burst of electricity that
completely knocked the wind from her body.
Actually her nipple did not explode, though it grew
stiff and erect to proportions that she would not have
recognized if she had been able to see it. The
electricity felt just like it did when she put her
finger in a light socket as a child. Without wind her
cry was a breathless one, and before she could
properly draw a breath he touched the probed to her
ass and shocked her again.
It was worse than the whippings. It coursed
completely through her and made her muscles all
convulse against each other. He was bringing the
probes up toward her breasts again. She started
begging again, forgetting that he used that as an
excuse to extend her punishment, and she struggled in
her bonds. She twisted and pulled her head and arms,
screaming for him to please stop, she couldn't take
this. She couldn't move, though, and became
claustrophobic. The stocks were choking her. He
touched her other nipple and it exploded like the
first one.
She was screaming without any stop, and was pushing
and pulling on the stocks, pushing upwards from her
folded legs in an effort to break open the top. She
couldn't even make it move. He touched her clitoris
and she contracted in a fucking motion, piss streaming
between her legs. Her screaming was at a higher pitch
now. He pushed one probe up her rectum, and the other
up her vagina, pushing each smoothly forward until it
bumped against something. He said, "This will hurt
you," and pushed the button. It bit in her cervix and
rectum and contracted everything in her lower abdomen.
There was nothing in her to expel, or the probes
would have been fouled.
He touched one probe to one nipple and one to the
other. She couldn't move, was starting to get some
breath again and moaning hopelessly. Just saying
"Nooo.." He touched the button and her heart seemed
to convulse and she blacked out.
She opened her eyes and he was squatting in front of
her. She couldn't close her mouth because he had
jammed some rubber dental blocks between her teeth.
He said, "You want me to stop? I'll stop when you
show me your obedience. Now, to show me what a sweet,
obedient little thing you are, you have to stick out
your tongue and touch these electrodes. That's all
you have to do, and I'll cancel the punishment."
He held the probes toward her face and she pulled
her head back as far as she could into the stocks, she
was so afraid. "No? Then we'll start over." He put
the probes back to one of her nipples while she
started screaming again, then pushed the button again.
She was trying to scream "I'll do it," but couldn't
talk with the blocks in her mouth. He brought the
probes around to her face again. "Second chance?"
Her eyes bugged out. She stared at the probes and
tried to make herself touch them but couldn't do it.
He started moving them away again, when she closed her
eyes, pushed her tongue out as far as she could and
lunged at them. Her tongue swelled, the electricity
hit her hard in the face, and she was knocked
semi-conscious again. She would have shattered her
teeth if not for the blocks.
Everything was done methodically. He put away the
tools, then cleaned her. He caressed her face and
told her she was going to be a wonderful slave. Then
he inserted the ear plugs, attached the blindfold,
turned on the white noise, and left her alone in the
blackened room.
-----------------------------------------------
He left her a long time again. She wanted
unconsciousness, but she couldn't get it. When she'd
start to drift she'd feel the jolts of electricity and
her whole body would tense again. She awoke
disoriented, not knowing where she was or why she
couldn't rise or move. She yelled in panic. She was
covered in sweat but was cold.
When he returned she was drifting again. She first
knew he was there when he touched her ass. She cried
and begged him not to hurt her. She thought he was
going to shock her again. Instead he dried her with a
large, thick towel, and used baby powder all over her.
He fondled her ass, very softly while doing this,
lightly, running his hand across her anus and down her
labia. He spent some time tickling the insides of her
thighs, then lubricated her vagina and pulled on her
labia, letting his fingers slip off the ends, over and
over. He pushed two fingers deep into her pussy and
pumped them in and out slowly. She could see and hear
nothing, feel almost nothing else. Again, he made her
feel desire, and despise herself. It was so easy.
He pulled out her ear plugs. "Now I'm going to fuck
your ass, and I'm going to teach you how to do it
right. Have you ever been fucked there?" She shook
her head. "What have you ever had in there? Talk."
She had trouble talking again. He would know if she
lied. She couldn't try to keep secrets. She spoke
out into the darkness: "My husband. Sometimes he
puts a finger in me."
"And you like it."
Silence. Then, "Yes" in that small voice.
"Only a finger?"
"Yes. Well. Once, once we were playing and he used
a vegetable, a zucchini. But, but it hurt and he
didn't do it again."
"Your husband is much more considerate than I am.
I'm sure he'd love to fuck your ass with his little
prick. I am going to fuck you with my monster. It
won't hurt much once you learn to get fucked right.
Now that's enough talking."
The whole time they were talking he was caressing
her body, her ass, and occasionally her breasts,
running his fingernails down her sides to her lower
belly and her cunt, petting her cunt. He continued
after they stopped, she unable to move, unable to stop
him from playing with her, unable to see or to feel
things with her hands, unable to concentrate on
something, anything, other than his caresses. She
tried to muster some rebellion.
"It's not little."
"Oh, being bold again. I'll have to punish you for
that. You are learning so slowly. Maybe we can
enlighten you about the situation by using some more
electricity."
Her faux courage crumbled around her. She rushed to
try to set things straight. "I'm sorry. Please, I
won't do that again. Please, I'll be so good for you.
I can't take that again. Please, master, let me show
you how good I can be."
This really was as good as it could get. His prick
threatened to explode right then, becoming even less
fleshy and more bony.
"You'll show me how good you can be anyway. And
this display of begging is disgusting. I have to
punish you for that, too." She was crying through the
blindfold, so afraid that now he would hurt her
forever. "Oh very well. You can see that sometimes
I'm too indulgent, but I don't want punishments to get
in the way of our fucking. And there are so many
punishments you already have coming to you. So, if
you can show me complete, sweet submission, I'll
considering letting this go."
"Yes, master, I'll be good, you'll see..."
"Yes. I'm sure I will. Now what is it that isn't
little?"
"My husband's penis. It isn't little ..."
He laughed a good, hearty laugh. "Well, I'm sure
he's a stallion. Or at least perfectly adequate.
Maybe I should get it for you. Cut it off and bring
it to you? Then you could do whatever you wanted with
it."
She was completely silent. Oh no! Don't do that.
She knew he could.
-----------------------------------------------
He prepared her ass for fucking. He used a large
amount of lubricant and began working her open, using
a finger, two fingers, a thumb, two thumbs. He told
her to open her ass and she tried to help. He didn't
particularly want to hurt her doing this. Getting the
pleasure and dominating her were enough. He could
hurt her whenever he wanted. So he massaged around
and around the inside of her anus, stretching it
slowly open.
It was so odd, to have someone working on her anus
like that, opening her body for himself. When he
brought the head of his penis to her she clamped down
in fear, but her ordered her to open and she tried to.
She tried to relax her anus, to not impede him. When
he told her to push out, she did. She felt the big
end of his penis pushing, pushing, then suddenly the
head was in. There was so much pressure on her anus,
but it didn't hurt very much. Then he pushed
deliberately all the way inside her, and her ass was
so full that she made a high-pitched grunt, then
several whimpering pants.
He had hit the end of her rectum, but because he was
so big he wasn't all the way in, so he pushed harder,
and this did hurt. She felt like she was cramping up.
She gasped "Oh!" She couldn't believe the amount of
sensation inside her. He pulled almost all the way
out of her, which felt to her like she was eliminating
some enormous turd, then pushed all the way back in.
She went "oh" again. Her anus was cramping around his
prick. He stopped, deep inside her, and gave
instructions. "That's right. When I push in you push
out like you're trying to shit. That'll give me the
most sensation. Hold your ass tight around my dick
the whole time. Time your pushes to my thrusts."
He fucked out and in again, and she did what he had
said. She wanted him to know she was submitting to
him. "That's a good girl. Keep doing it." He used
strokes that started slow and speeded up as he got in
deep, so that his pubic bone slammed against her ass
and the head of his cock banged into the end of her
rectum. There was a shock wave when he hit, and as it
coursed through her flesh it tweaked some pleasure
along with the hurt. That surprised her.
He decided to force pleasure on her, and began
playing with her labia in that milking motion, pulling
one side then the other while he fucked her, letting
his hand slip off the end of one lip before pulling on
the other. She was so full, forcing her concentration
on her bowels, and then there were his hands. She
didn't want him to stop. She was afraid that he would
get her high then leave her, like before, as part of
her torture. All that she was aware of was the shock
of his cock pushing into her and his hands working her
cunt. He kept milking her pussy, softly for a man,
but over and over. He adjusted the timing of the
milking to match his thrusts, so that she was pushing
out at him and feeling his dick force the walls of her
rectum apart at the same time that he milked. She
wanted to move, to help the pleasure, but the stocks
held her immobile. She was making those rare little
whimpering cries that men so love, and he kept milking
her, and then she orgasmed explosively, crying out
loudly and hyperventilating as the buzzing of it
started from a small spot in her belly and moved all
the way out to her hands and her feet, making her
light-headed. It went on and on.
He came inside her at almost the same time and kept
his penis inside her for some time after he was
finished. He stroked her back and ass lightly while
he did this. She was always very sensitive after
orgasms, so this made her quake several times. She
was drifting in great languor, floating, tiny fingers
of pleasure still moving in her, knowing she had never
experienced anything like that. She forgot for the
moment to hate herself.
-----------------------------------------------
He pulled out of her and came around to her face.
Her ass felt gaping. He knelt and put his softened
penis up to her mouth. She could smell the smell of
shit before he got it to her, and that brought her
back to earth. She screwed up her courage and sucked
in the end of the head and began licking it clean.
She heaved when she found obvious shit, held herself
still until it passed, and continued until she had the
whole thing in her mouth again and had cleaned
everything off of it. She wasn't sure she could do it
without vomiting, but she managed. He had her hold
his penis in her mouth for a long time while he
caressed her hair. On a whim, he put some lubricant
on her breasts, then pumped them for awhile, like
milking a cow. He seemed taken with the idea of
milking her. She remained still, holding his penis
in. He even kept it in her while he put in the ear
plugs. Then he pulled out of her and left her alone
in the dark and silence.
Some time later she began throwing up.
Chapter Four: The stocks
She looked at the stocks blankly, dumbly, wondering
when he had had time to install them. They were low.
She would have to kneel very low indeed to be placed
in them. There were holes for her neck and her
wrists, just above the floor, and they were padded
with what looked like suede. The area on which she
would kneel, on which he now told her to kneel, felt
like gym mats. She put her neck through the large
center opening and her wrists through the two on the
sides. He closed the top down. The fit was very
snug, as though he had made them for her. He spread
her knees and ankles apart and fastened them with
something. She cooperated completely, and was not
uncomfortable.
He brought over a device that was plugged into a
wall socket. It was small, like a computer mouse,
with two long probes, each of which was insulated
except for the last half inch.
He said, "I don't like all the bruises you're
getting. I need to punish you without leaving so many
marks. This should help." He touched the probes to a
nipple, pushed a button on the device, and her nipple
instantly exploded in a burst of electricity that
completely knocked the wind from her body.
Actually her nipple did not explode, though it grew
stiff and erect to proportions that she would not have
recognized if she had been able to see it. The
electricity felt just like it did when she put her
finger in a light socket as a child. Without wind her
cry was a breathless one, and before she could
properly draw a breath he touched the probed to her
ass and shocked her again.
It was worse than the whippings. It coursed
completely through her and made her muscles all
convulse against each other. He was bringing the
probes up toward her breasts again. She started
begging again, forgetting that he used that as an
excuse to extend her punishment, and she struggled in
her bonds. She twisted and pulled her head and arms,
screaming for him to please stop, she couldn't take
this. She couldn't move, though, and became
claustrophobic. The stocks were choking her. He
touched her other nipple and it exploded like the
first one.
She was screaming without any stop, and was pushing
and pulling on the stocks, pushing upwards from her
folded legs in an effort to break open the top. She
couldn't even make it move. He touched her clitoris
and she contracted in a fucking motion, piss streaming
between her legs. Her screaming was at a higher pitch
now. He pushed one probe up her rectum, and the other
up her vagina, pushing each smoothly forward until it
bumped against something. He said, "This will hurt
you," and pushed the button. It bit in her cervix and
rectum and contracted everything in her lower abdomen.
There was nothing in her to expel, or the probes
would have been fouled.
He touched one probe to one nipple and one to the
other. She couldn't move, was starting to get some
breath again and moaning hopelessly. Just saying
"Nooo.." He touched the button and her heart seemed
to convulse and she blacked out.
She opened her eyes and he was squatting in front of
her. She couldn't close her mouth because he had
jammed some rubber dental blocks between her teeth.
He said, "You want me to stop? I'll stop when you
show me your obedience. Now, to show me what a sweet,
obedient little thing you are, you have to stick out
your tongue and touch these electrodes. That's all
you have to do, and I'll cancel the punishment."
He held the probes toward her face and she pulled
her head back as far as she could into the stocks, she
was so afraid. "No? Then we'll start over." He put
the probes back to one of her nipples while she
started screaming again, then pushed the button again.
She was trying to scream "I'll do it," but couldn't
talk with the blocks in her mouth. He brought the
probes around to her face again. "Second chance?"
Her eyes bugged out. She stared at the probes and
tried to make herself touch them but couldn't do it.
He started moving them away again, when she closed her
eyes, pushed her tongue out as far as she could and
lunged at them. Her tongue swelled, the electricity
hit her hard in the face, and she was knocked
semi-conscious again. She would have shattered her
teeth if not for the blocks.
Everything was done methodically. He put away the
tools, then cleaned her. He caressed her face and
told her she was going to be a wonderful slave. Then
he inserted the ear plugs, attached the blindfold,
turned on the white noise, and left her alone in the
blackened room.
-----------------------------------------------
He left her a long time again. She wanted
unconsciousness, but she couldn't get it. When she'd
start to drift she'd feel the jolts of electricity and
her whole body would tense again. She awoke
disoriented, not knowing where she was or why she
couldn't rise or move. She yelled in panic. She was
covered in sweat but was cold.
When he returned she was drifting again. She first
knew he was there when he touched her ass. She cried
and begged him not to hurt her. She thought he was
going to shock her again. Instead he dried her with a
large, thick towel, and used baby powder all over her.
He fondled her ass, very softly while doing this,
lightly, running his hand across her anus and down her
labia. He spent some time tickling the insides of her
thighs, then lubricated her vagina and pulled on her
labia, letting his fingers slip off the ends, over and
over. He pushed two fingers deep into her pussy and
pumped them in and out slowly. She could see and hear
nothing, feel almost nothing else. Again, he made her
feel desire, and despise herself. It was so easy.
He pulled out her ear plugs. "Now I'm going to fuck
your ass, and I'm going to teach you how to do it
right. Have you ever been fucked there?" She shook
her head. "What have you ever had in there? Talk."
She had trouble talking again. He would know if she
lied. She couldn't try to keep secrets. She spoke
out into the darkness: "My husband. Sometimes he
puts a finger in me."
"And you like it."
Silence. Then, "Yes" in that small voice.
"Only a finger?"
"Yes. Well. Once, once we were playing and he used
a vegetable, a zucchini. But, but it hurt and he
didn't do it again."
"Your husband is much more considerate than I am.
I'm sure he'd love to fuck your ass with his little
prick. I am going to fuck you with my monster. It
won't hurt much once you learn to get fucked right.
Now that's enough talking."
The whole time they were talking he was caressing
her body, her ass, and occasionally her breasts,
running his fingernails down her sides to her lower
belly and her cunt, petting her cunt. He continued
after they stopped, she unable to move, unable to stop
him from playing with her, unable to see or to feel
things with her hands, unable to concentrate on
something, anything, other than his caresses. She
tried to muster some rebellion.
"It's not little."
"Oh, being bold again. I'll have to punish you for
that. You are learning so slowly. Maybe we can
enlighten you about the situation by using some more
electricity."
Her faux courage crumbled around her. She rushed to
try to set things straight. "I'm sorry. Please, I
won't do that again. Please, I'll be so good for you.
I can't take that again. Please, master, let me show
you how good I can be."
This really was as good as it could get. His prick
threatened to explode right then, becoming even less
fleshy and more bony.
"You'll show me how good you can be anyway. And
this display of begging is disgusting. I have to
punish you for that, too." She was crying through the
blindfold, so afraid that now he would hurt her
forever. "Oh very well. You can see that sometimes
I'm too indulgent, but I don't want punishments to get
in the way of our fucking. And there are so many
punishments you already have coming to you. So, if
you can show me complete, sweet submission, I'll
considering letting this go."
"Yes, master, I'll be good, you'll see..."
"Yes. I'm sure I will. Now what is it that isn't
little?"
"My husband's penis. It isn't little ..."
He laughed a good, hearty laugh. "Well, I'm sure
he's a stallion. Or at least perfectly adequate.
Maybe I should get it for you. Cut it off and bring
it to you? Then you could do whatever you wanted with
it."
She was completely silent. Oh no! Don't do that.
She knew he could.
-----------------------------------------------
He prepared her ass for fucking. He used a large
amount of lubricant and began working her open, using
a finger, two fingers, a thumb, two thumbs. He told
her to open her ass and she tried to help. He didn't
particularly want to hurt her doing this. Getting the
pleasure and dominating her were enough. He could
hurt her whenever he wanted. So he massaged around
and around the inside of her anus, stretching it
slowly open.
It was so odd, to have someone working on her anus
like that, opening her body for himself. When he
brought the head of his penis to her she clamped down
in fear, but her ordered her to open and she tried to.
She tried to relax her anus, to not impede him. When
he told her to push out, she did. She felt the big
end of his penis pushing, pushing, then suddenly the
head was in. There was so much pressure on her anus,
but it didn't hurt very much. Then he pushed
deliberately all the way inside her, and her ass was
so full that she made a high-pitched grunt, then
several whimpering pants.
He had hit the end of her rectum, but because he was
so big he wasn't all the way in, so he pushed harder,
and this did hurt. She felt like she was cramping up.
She gasped "Oh!" She couldn't believe the amount of
sensation inside her. He pulled almost all the way
out of her, which felt to her like she was eliminating
some enormous turd, then pushed all the way back in.
She went "oh" again. Her anus was cramping around his
prick. He stopped, deep inside her, and gave
instructions. "That's right. When I push in you push
out like you're trying to shit. That'll give me the
most sensation. Hold your ass tight around my dick
the whole time. Time your pushes to my thrusts."
He fucked out and in again, and she did what he had
said. She wanted him to know she was submitting to
him. "That's a good girl. Keep doing it." He used
strokes that started slow and speeded up as he got in
deep, so that his pubic bone slammed against her ass
and the head of his cock banged into the end of her
rectum. There was a shock wave when he hit, and as it
coursed through her flesh it tweaked some pleasure
along with the hurt. That surprised her.
He decided to force pleasure on her, and began
playing with her labia in that milking motion, pulling
one side then the other while he fucked her, letting
his hand slip off the end of one lip before pulling on
the other. She was so full, forcing her concentration
on her bowels, and then there were his hands. She
didn't want him to stop. She was afraid that he would
get her high then leave her, like before, as part of
her torture. All that she was aware of was the shock
of his cock pushing into her and his hands working her
cunt. He kept milking her pussy, softly for a man,
but over and over. He adjusted the timing of the
milking to match his thrusts, so that she was pushing
out at him and feeling his dick force the walls of her
rectum apart at the same time that he milked. She
wanted to move, to help the pleasure, but the stocks
held her immobile. She was making those rare little
whimpering cries that men so love, and he kept milking
her, and then she orgasmed explosively, crying out
loudly and hyperventilating as the buzzing of it
started from a small spot in her belly and moved all
the way out to her hands and her feet, making her
light-headed. It went on and on.
He came inside her at almost the same time and kept
his penis inside her for some time after he was
finished. He stroked her back and ass lightly while
he did this. She was always very sensitive after
orgasms, so this made her quake several times. She
was drifting in great languor, floating, tiny fingers
of pleasure still moving in her, knowing she had never
experienced anything like that. She forgot for the
moment to hate herself.
-----------------------------------------------
He pulled out of her and came around to her face.
Her ass felt gaping. He knelt and put his softened
penis up to her mouth. She could smell the smell of
shit before he got it to her, and that brought her
back to earth. She screwed up her courage and sucked
in the end of the head and began licking it clean.
She heaved when she found obvious shit, held herself
still until it passed, and continued until she had the
whole thing in her mouth again and had cleaned
everything off of it. She wasn't sure she could do it
without vomiting, but she managed. He had her hold
his penis in her mouth for a long time while he
caressed her hair. On a whim, he put some lubricant
on her breasts, then pumped them for awhile, like
milking a cow. He seemed taken with the idea of
milking her. She remained still, holding his penis
in. He even kept it in her while he put in the ear
plugs. Then he pulled out of her and left her alone
in the dark and silence.
Some time later she began throwing up.
Chapter Six: Solitude
He tied her to the bed again, with the blindfold, the
ear plugs, and the white noise machine. She didn't
know what had become of her daughter any more than she
had known the day before. The burning on her front
was too strong, biting her, for her to sleep, so she
just writhed and twisted, whimpering, until it finally
burned itself out.
Now he started a new regimen. He spoke almost never
and did not let her talk. He came in to put a tube
down her nose and feed her something liquid. She
resisted a little the first time. He took her to the
toilet occasionally. The rest of the time she lay
alone, sometimes on her back, sometimes on her
stomach, sometimes in the stocks, sometimes standing
with her arms chained above her head in the middle of
the room. He fitted some kind of gloves to her
hands, that enclosed them and held them in loose
fists. She was always shut off from light and sound
and the use of her hands. He left her there for very
long periods, immobile and alone. When he walked her
to the toilet he first attached a belt at her waist
and a collar, and he fastened her hands behind to one
or the other.
For awhile, when he came in he immediately hurt her,
always a different part of her. The first time, he
put her in the stocks and whipped her on the ass for a
long time, long enough for her to pass out. Then he
left again. Her ass burned as her front had, so that
she spent a long period of time moaning and moving it
about, until he came in and said loudly to one ear:
"No sounds. If you make any sounds at all I'll whip
you more." She tried to stifle her moaning, though
her ass hurt so constantly that she couldn't always do
it. While he was in there he fucked her from the
rear, but he didn't try to give her any pleasure.
The next time, he strung her up and used some kind of
rod to batter her breasts. This was a different hurt.
The rod caused a shock wave throughout her breasts
when it hit. It made a splat sound instead of a
crack, and it damaged her breasts all the way through.
The force of the strokes had her body swinging back
and forth in the bonds. She couldn't see when the
strokes were coming and screamed almost constantly.
She tried to plead though her gag, to promise again to
never displease him, but she couldn't of course. The
shock was so great that she passed out after about ten
minutes. He brought her back and started over. She
passed out again and he brought her back again.
Finally she stopped responding to the rod. He left
her hanging for a very great time. When she came
around her breasts were excruciating, and no matter
how hard she tried she couldn't keep herself from
moaning. She wanted them to fall off. She drifted,
again, between pain and moments of unconsciousness.
He came in, took her down, tied her to the bed. He
fed her and let her lie there. Her bladder was full
but he didn't take her to the toilet, and after awhile
she wet herself. When he returned he used the
electrical device on her. The piss-wet bed conducted
power all around her ass. She screamed again with the
volts, especially when he applied them to her bruised
breasts, but she was weakening greatly.
He removed the gag and said: "No sounds! You
understand? " She nodded. He fed her water from a
tube. She tried again to stifle herself.
Then she lay, so long alone, cut off from sound,
sight, touch. She had not been able to use her arms
or hands for a very long time. Sometimes she tried to
move them a bit, but without success. She lay still,
not having any choice. When he came in again she
jumped because she thought it was time for him to
torture her again, but he gave her a sponge bath and
washed her hair. He did not speak and she dared not.
Then he put her in the stocks. He had her suck him
again, and she tried to do it right, to let him know
that she would always please him, would never
challenge him. Then he left her for another long
time.
The next time he took her to the toilet. He let her
drink from the toilet and then use it. He had her
kneel down and eat some kind of mush from a dog bowl.
She put her face well into the bowl and even licked
the bowl clean, after which he washed her face with a
wet cloth. He took her back to her chamber and
chained her upright in the center of the room, but he
did not hurt her. The next time he put her on the bed
again.
So alone. No one in the world was as alone as she.
There was nothing for her but gloom and thoughts. She
would see her daughter whipping her and being whipped.
She knew she was to be here forever, that her captor
was her master forever. She thought of her husband
and son almost not at all, thought about her master.
She feared him enormously, but he had the power to
bring her company and pleasure. She would be so good,
if he would only give her another chance. Once he
seemed to have stopped hurting her so much she wanted
him to come to her more. She wanted to feel a touch.
The few times he spoke she played his words over in
her head after he left. She thrilled when he washed
her, even got goose bumps. She remembered the sexual
pleasure he had forced on her and became hot thinking
about it. He seldom used her for sex and when he did
he didn't try to pleasure her, but she got wet anyway.
She sank in disappointment when he left. She had
dreams of him using her and her daughter. She would
think she heard sounds and turn her head toward the
door, waiting for him, usually to be disappointed.
Once the power must have gone out, because the white
noise machine stopped and she could hear slightly
more. In comparison, she thought sound came clearly
to her. She lifted her head and strained to hear him.
Her world was empty. Only he had the power to fill
it. She began crying one day and couldn't stop
herself. She cried into the void: "Master. Please,
I need you. Please, I don't care if you hurt me.
Please come and use me! I don't want to be alone."
She was crying and talking at the same time. "Please
master, let me show you how good I can be. Give me
another chance. Everything you want I'll give, all
the time, please master, please I need you!" There
was no response.
But in the hall outside the door he stood, thinking a
line of poetry: "And lonely as it is, this
loneliness, will be more lonely ere it will be less."
------------------------------------------------------
Finally he returned. He removed the blindfold and ear
plugs. He spoke to her. "I require silence. If you
want to please me you'll learn to control yourself in
all things. Do you understand?" She nodded, her
usual nod, and became attentive. He was talking to
her! "Now we'll practice." He produced a long
needle. "I don't want you crying out when I use this.
Do you understand?" She nodded again, and stared at
the needle. She couldn't look away.
He leaned over her. The needle touched her nipple
tenderly, then was pushed in, biting at her, in,
through. She didn't make a sound, held her breath
tightly though it.
He pulled it out just as slowly, moved it to her arm
and pushed it in. He was, as usual, in no hurry. His
penis was growing and he knew he could have a long
period of enjoyment. He pushed the needle carefully
into her hip, through the skin and fat, then deeply
and equally slowly into her muscle. She tried to
stifle herself again, but she couldn't control her
voice because the pain was so great and continued so
long. She let out just a little squeak through her
closed-off throat, which then became a gasping groan.
Every muscle was so tense, and she was flopping her
body about, this way and that, trying to avoid the
needle, trying the impossible.
"You're not pleasing me, plaything." His voice was
serene, utterly polite. "We need to start over, now."
She lost herself completely for moment, crying a
raspy, hoarse noise that was ugly compared with his
voice. While she did this he applied the needle, in
no particular rush, to her left pussy lip, aiming it
so that it did not come out the other side but
followed the flesh toward her pubis. She was sweating
enormously and her movements were so jerky that she
seemed to be having spasms. He stopped for a moment
to let her waste her energy and come to grips with the
situation.
She couldn't seem to stop moaning.
"You see, every time you make those noises you are
disobedient. The punishment has to start over. And
because you keep being so head-strong in not pleasing
me I have to increase it. I don't want ever again to
have to gag you to silence you. That is your
responsibility. But if we have to take all night long
for you to learn proper discipline then so be it. You
don't want to be here all night, do you, when your
punishment could be over in about an hour? Now, be a
sweet little bitch and show me how obedient you can
become."
This time when he pushed the needle in, into the meat
of her left breast, she tensed and jerked against her
bindings but breathed in rapid gasps, her throat open
like she'd learned in childbirthing classes. He
pushed slowly and the long needle went in so far that
she was sure it would hit a rib. She squirmed in
almost complete panic, but managed to let out no cry,
no squeak, just fast, raspy, shallow pants through the
whole thing. Then he pulled it out again.
"Now you are starting to try to please me. But it
displeases me when you move during your discipline.
You need to control yourself better."
She just lay there, panting with the effects of the
pain and her exertion, her entire body covered in
sweat that now ran in two or three red, hair-thin
rivulets where the pin had been applied. She stared
at him and cried, though silently, because she didn't
think she could control herself and because she
thought he would never stop hurting her.
"Now let's do it again, shall we?" He put the pin to
an inner thigh and pushed into the muscle. She pulled
firmly on each binding, used isometric tension, and
held her head down against the mattress as hard as she
could. After he pulled the pin out he stroked her hair
and her cheek and ran his thumb lightly across her
mouth. He said, "That's much better. You will please
me yet."
She cried some more, noiselessly, and gave a grateful
smile, her face red and tear covered and all. That
was how she finally broke, all at once, silently.
"Now we'll continue. Stick out your tongue, so I can
pierce it."
Afraid, she pushed her tongue out as far as she could.
For this he took a new, longer needle. He put it
against the middle of her tongue and pushed, but it
was a hard drive. She tried to hold her tongue in
place while controlling her voice, but it kept being
pushed over, and in the end he had to hold it with a
dry cloth. There was more pain than during the
earlier stabbings, but she was aware, suddenly, that
she had been drifting. When it was through he left
the pin in for a time, and when she relaxed her tongue
the pin pressed against her upper and lower lips,
which kept her tongue extended.
"Now, I don't think we'll need all those restraints,
do you? Don't move when I loosen them. We're not
done yet, not by a long turn, but I think I can trust
you to hold yourself still for me. Am I right?" She
nodded. Did she comprehend?
She obeyed. She held still for seven more deep
prickings, the last one hard into her pubic bone. She
held silently still for that one, though all her
muscles twitched, holding her arms and legs and head
stiffly out as far and as hard as possible. He put
the implements aside. "We don't need those now. I
can see you're going to be beautifully obedient. A
sweet little bitch. Now let's kiss lovingly." He
bent over her wet face and kissed her deeply, tongue
deep in her mouth, tasting the blood from her
pricking. She had to let him, of course, but she
returned the warmth, sucked his lips and tongue,
explored his mouth as deeply as she could. It was
like kissing a god.
He had her stand. She staggered and he let her lean
against him, her head on his shoulder, while he walked
her to the splendid bathroom. It was an intimate
scene, one of two lovers after an afternoon of sex.
"You need some reward for trying so hard to overcome
yourself. I want you to clean yourself and make
yourself beautiful for me." He had another needle, a
syringe with some fluid in it. He injected her and
almost immediately her head was filled with cotton and
the various aches faded almost entirely away. He
started the Jacuzzi for her and left.
She washed her own hair languidly, then lay in the hot
water. The room filled with steam that settled on the
mirrors. She got out slowly, brushed and flossed her
teeth. She took a razor to the hair on her legs,
underarms, pussy, and ass (so carefully), but she
plucked the hairs around her nipples with a tweezers
she found on the counter, then she lay back in the
water again. She had thoughts of her daughter
hanging, waiting for punishment, of her own torture,
of her husband who had lost them, and of her utter
hopelessness. It was so nice to move her arms around.
The water was glorious.
Chapter Seven: Mother and daughter
She was happy to see him when he returned to the
bathroom. She had used the blow dryer and a brush on
her hair; it needed cutting, but it flowed out from
her head. She had found make-up, and had used a deep
red lipstick, red nail polish, and some eye make-up.
She had put rouge on her face and also, remembering
some book, on her nipples. She knew he liked
underarms, so she had shaved hers especially smooth,
and had oiled them with a scented lotion. She thought
she looked lovely, and she hoped he would too. She
was still floating.
He looked her over for a moment and told her he was
pleased with her. He caressed her face with the back
of his fingers, what seemed his most affectionate
action. They kissed, and he ran his palms softly down
her back and up her ribs to her breasts. Then he had
her kneel and he fucked her ass. He readied her with a
gentleness for which she wasn't at all prepared. She
worked to give him as much pleasure as possible,
remembering what he had told her. She got hot during
all of this and wanted him to pleasure her like he did
the other time, but he didn't and she was
disappointed. Then she prepared herself to suck his
cock clean afterwards, but he had her use a wash
cloth.
He led her to her bed, strapped her in with softer
restraints than he had used before, added the ear
plugs and turned on the white noise machine. He did
not blindfold her, though.
He strapped a devise over her pudendum, something she
had not seen before. It was a teardrop shaped,
bowl-like contraption made of mesh, rather like a
colander. It went from above her pubic bone on top,
where it was widest, to her anus, not touching any
erogenous area. A tube led from someplace she
couldn't see to a spot on the mesh directly above her
clitoris. He made some adjustments, and it began to
drip water on her with fair regularity, every several
seconds. The water was hot, but not burning. "Now
it's time for you to get some rest," he said. He
didn't tell her what the thing was for.
He left the room in complete darkness, and a cycle of
water drops began. One hot drop, then another,
falling on her clitoris. At first she thought that he
would use them to shock her somehow, and waited
tensely. Then the drops began to stimulate her. Very
little stimulation. The only stimulation. A drop,
then nothing, then another, in the dark. There was
nothing else to experience. After a bit she lifted
her hips to try to get to them. If she lay just so,
they landed just right. She was restless between
them. Then they stopped. She waited, then gave up.
She even moaned in her disappointment, but caught
herself and lay very quietly, hoping he wasn't nearby,
and practiced open-throat breathing. A few minutes
later they started again.
She dozed between drops. She woke with drops of hot
water falling on her sex, trickling, tickling, down to
her anus, bringing short fantasies of him pushing pins
into her clitoris and making her hot. Her world
became her desire. Then the photos began, dim
projections on the ceiling that caught her dilated
eyes and coincided with the drops. These were photos
of women being torture and raped. They were
interspersed with film clips of more rapes and
tortures, with sounds! Through the ear plugs! Women
begging, moaning, and screaming, then sucking penises,
being fucked in the ass, licking shit off the pricks,
and drinking streams of urine from anonymous pricks.
The drops continued, not too frequently. After a bit
there were scenes of her own punishments and rapes,
each one punctuated with drops. She saw and heard
herself cry and beg, and each time she was allowed
just the touch of hot water on her clitoris. Then
there were scenes of her daughter being punished and
raped, always accompanied by the drops.
She could not turn away from the tape of her daughter,
hands bound behind her, sucking his penis, sucking it
thoroughly and deeply, while he flicked a whip down
against her ass. She watched her daughter jerk and
shiver with the whip but keep her mouth on the penis
and continue to give pleasure. There were sounds with
this tape, and she heard her daughter scream onto his
penis, the sound muffled by the large head. Another
drop.
-----------------------------------------------------
She was there forever; she didn't know how long it
was. Finally she slept, but fitfully, with sexual
dreams that never brought her release.
When he returned he removed the device from her
crotch. She raised her hips, hoping he would just
touch her there. If he would just stroke her vagina
softly, once or twice, it would do. Several of her
prickings had begun to ache during the night (Night?
Had it been night?) but she was not concerned with
them. Just her sex. Please caress it, please.
He studied her, inspected her body closely. He kissed
her deeply again. They kissed deeply. He sucked on
her nipples until they stood hard against his tongue
and she was panting loudly. He stood. "I know what
you want, kitten. Fulfillment, though, comes through
total obedience, and through pleasing me." He smiled
at the devastated expression that crossed her face.
"You were disobedient only recently, something that
we'll correct. You'll get to prove yourself to me,
yet. Now let's get you up and ready for the day."
----------------------------------------------------
She kneeled at his feet, hands cuffed behind her back,
taking food the way he had trained her. Her knees
were spread so she couldn't give herself any sexual
stimulation, but she was still hot. He gave her a
birth control pill and a multi-vitamin, adding an
antibiotic tablet to reduce the chance of infection
from the pins. It wouldn't do to lose the main
entertainment.
Today he let her have soft fried eggs, taking them
into his mouth and making them into a sloppy mush
before spitting them into her mouth. She hadn't any
real food in days, weeks? She didn't spilled any
food, even the liquid. She ate everything he had for
her.
He put her through her usual workout, using a thin
fiberglass whip to make her go beyond her endurance.
She had very little stamina now, and would have to
build back up. He made her work her arms hard, and
then practice using her hands again, though they
didn't seem as bad. When he had her lift weights she
found her arms had almost no strength at all, from
being immobilized so long. They used the bathroom and
he gave her the usual enema to clean her out, then let
her take a bath.
After this he cuffed her hands behind her again, then
led her out to the discipline room, where her daughter
stood, legs tied widely apart, hands cuffed together
and pulled straight to the ceiling.
----------------------------------------------------
"Look at her; isn't she delectable? Your first
meeting wasn't all that it could be, so I'm going to
let you have some sweet time together."
The woman and the girl stared at each other while he
busied himself with something. She remembered now
that the girl's breasts had grown from before she had
been captured. She looked more mature. The mother saw
immediately that the girl's shaved pussy was darkened
and the lips were slightly open. My god, he's done
the same things to you. He makes you desire. Does he
completely control you, too? She already had known
this, but it was concrete now, and she knew the answer
to her question.
Her daughter stared back. Mother. Her pussy had looked
strange when she whipped her. Now it was different.
The daughter noticed the state of arousal. Her
mother's body had a few welts from the workout, and
some old yellow bruises. She was so much thinner than
she had been. Her thighs had lost their marbling.
And then there was her pussy, again. Oh, Mother,
you're all sexed up. How could you let that happen?
"Go kiss each other, nicely." She walked over to the
child she had birthed, fed, changed. Their eyes were
locked on one another. Neither had a choice, did
they? For a moment they held still, one or two inches
apart, then they began to kiss shyly and tentatively,
barely touching, brushing lips, feeling each other
softly, not knowing how to get past their old
mother-daughter form of kissing. He did not rush
them. Even obedient slaves need time to get used to
some things.
The mother started crying, and then they opened their
mouths and caressed each other's tongues. All of life
was pain or nothingness or this pleasure, so they
obeyed and feasted on each others' mouths. That taste
on her daughter's mouth - semen! When did he have
time to do that today? Each found the other's mouth
much smaller than his, less pungent, the lips softer,
smoother, the mouth devoid of stubble.
The mother moved so her breasts were touching her
daughter's. She had never had that gentle experience.
Her husband had told her he loved the sensation, the
first feeling of her bare breasts against him like a
pair of bumpers. She flashed on him saying it and
would like to have told him that now she understood.
She brushed her lips on her daughter's lower lip, then
sucked on it, then sucked her tongue completely into
her mouth. Their breathing grew heavier. The
daughter's eyes closed almost completely and she tried
to push her pussy out against her mother's; mother
pulled her hips back. He let them kiss a long time,
and they could have gone on for hours, but he stepped
in.
"Now why don't you suck on her sweet nipples? Do it
right."
She bent over a little, took the nipples into her
mouth. They were already hard. Her daughter's breasts
were still small and a bit pointy, so she could suck
one almost completely into her mouth. Her daughter
panted loudly and thrust her chest as far forward as
she could. The mother bit a nipple, causing the
daughter to gasp exceptionally loudly. It kept
occurring to her how damnable a thing it was to sex
your own child, and she wondered in some corner of her
mind how she could find it so easy to do this thing
she'd never in her life considered.
"Now you're going to lick and suck her cunt."
She knelt and faced her daughter's pussy, but
hesitated before the swollen pussy lips. "Is it
something you've never done before? Why your little
teenybopper has more experience than her mother." And
he laughed. He told her to lick all along one lip,
then the other. Then lick all around the clitoris.
It wasn't so hard to get herself to do it. It tasted
tangy, and her daughter bucked wonderfully. It just
seemed strange to have sex with no moaning. She wished
it were her own pussy getting licked, and she tried to
do what she would want done to her.
----------------------------------------------------
"Now we're going to have a little contest. Momma's
job is to make her little baby come. Baby's job is to
not come. The loser gets severe discipline while the
winner gets a sweet reward. Go slowly, Momma.
There's no reason to win too soon."
The daughter went completely still. Her eyes went
from almost closed to wide open. She pulled back as
far as she could. The mother thought, I can't take
more discipline. I have to win. She moved up into
her daughter and licked the full length of the pussy.
Her daughter only quivered. She sucked in a pussy
lip, the other. Her daughter moved her hips forward
for a second, then tried pulling back again. She
moved her lips as softly as she could directly on the
clitoris, and her daughter moved her sex rhythmically.
The daughter gave in, moving her hips to allow her
mother access to her hole, then letting her suck
almost the whole vulva into her mouth. She started to
thrash and it was happening. The mother sucked and
sucked, and then the daughter moaned aloud and cried
out and the mother stopped in horror, thinking, No,
don't do that, don't do that!
He pulled the mother's head back. No sense in giving
more pleasure than was needed for the job. The
daughter's legs had collapsed so she hung, breathing
heavily. "Well, little one. You wanted to come and
you have. But you've been a very bad loser, and we
can't allow that, can we? Since Momma won the
contest, she gets the pleasure of disciplining you.
Momma, this will be the most fun you've had since you
spanked her little bottom when she was a toddler."
He stood her up, uncuffed her, and handed her a type
of cane made of half-inch doweling, like he had used
to batter her breasts. "Hit her hard. Very hard.
Her breasts, her belly, her thighs, and her ass. Not
her face. Hit her once every minute - I'll tell you
when. We have plenty of time. I'll be especially
pleased with you if you make her scream. She's
supposed to be quiet just as you are, but as you can
see she hasn't learned enough discipline."
She held the cane out, swished it through the air.
Her arm was weak but the cane made a heavy whooshing
sound. Her daughter just stared at her and made
little jerky sideways movements with her head. No,
no. "Give her the first dose of medicine now."
She swung as hard as she could, hitting the girl just
above her navel. The sound was a splat. She watched
the shock wave flash along her daughter's skin, saw
her jerk backward with the first jolt, then watched as
she began writhing with the secondary pain as blood
poured into the wounded skin. A few seconds after the
blow a red mark appeared, and then this became a thick
welt. "A good start, my pet." He was standing right
behind the mother, right up against her in fact,
caressing her belly, her breasts, and her pussy. He
instructed her how to hit more effectively. He moved a
finger around her clitoris in a circle while he did
this.
It took her several tries to get the technique right.
The second stroke, on the front of her daughter's
thighs, barely made a mark at all, and he clucked at
her impatiently. Her daughter reacted the same way as
before, though. She used the same open-throated
panting that her mother recognized she used herself.
The third stroke was much better. It was on her
daughter's breasts, right across the two of them, and
they bounced like gelatin. A drop of blood formed at
the tip of a nipple. Her daughter's eyes were
scrunched mostly shut, and her mouth formed a lovely
'O.' She writhed much more rapidly, and longer, and
her mother thought she could hear the start of real
vocal sounds. He had stepped back to give her a wider
arc for swinging the cane but now he stepped back
right up to her and squeezed her labia, pulled them
out, then let them slip through his fingers. He did
it well, as always. "You are a natural flagellatrix.
You will get your just reward for this." She stood
with legs spread, letting the arm with the cane droop,
and tried not to fall backwards as he played with her
pussy. She wanted to feel empathy for her daughter,
but she couldn't get her attention off her sex.
By now the daughter didn't stop writhing or panting
between strokes. She used all her stores of energy
trying to not make sounds, but at the seventh stroke,
on her ass, she let slip the first grunt, and at the
eighth stroke, on her belly again, she lost all chance
of silence. She groaned and cried out, made sounds
like a cat that has been hit by a car, and tried to
say "no" and "please." Her face was wetter than her
sweat-covered body. Tears and sweat mixed with the
snot that ran from her nose and around her mouth to
drip off her chin.
He rubbed the mother's pussy with mentholated
petrolatum. He moved his slick hands along her sex,
and pushed a slick finger into her ass. "She has lost
all discipline," he said. "We need to begin over."
He didn't play with her enough to finish her, but
enough to keep her close. She waited for the next
time to strike. She wanted to make her daughter jump
and scream, to get him to keep going.
----------------------------------------------------
They stopped after twenty-seven strokes. Her daughter
had ceased to interest him long before, and just hung
by her wrists and moaned between strokes. There seemed
to be a lot of blood. "We'll let her rest," he said.
"She can have more discipline later." The daughter
wasn't completely conscious.
Would be finish her now? That's all she wanted. She
would do anything for him if he would let her finish.
The whole of her genitals and ass were hot from the
mentholatum. Do me now, master.
He took her to the bathroom and told her to clean
herself up - she too was sweaty. When he started out
the door she moved a hand to her crotch. "Oh no you
don't! Bad girl!" He rummaged around and found the
colander device, which he strapped on her. She
couldn't touch anywhere near her vagina. "And after I
let you whip her! This is the thanks I get! Trying
to take your own pleasure without my permission.
Well, you have another thought coming, little girl!"
He stalked out leaving her to wash herself while
whimpering, afraid of what he would do, and so
dreadfully aroused.
But he didn't hurt her too badly. He whipped her back
with a belt for a bit, while she knelt before him,
then he strapped her to the bed again and started the
hot water drops. This time he included tapes of her
loving her daughter, and whipping her.
Chapter Eight, "Change"
She had held the water for how long? Standing in the
tub, hands cuffed behind, a bowel full of liquid, she
had panted and twisted herself this way and that,
knotted her butt, tightened her anus, holding it in,
while he came and went. Even this made her mad for
sex, even the cramping and the fullness and the worry
that she wouldn't be able to hold it and he would
punish her again.
Days now of almost constant arousal. He wouldn't
provide release. He kept finding ways to keep her
high. And how long had that been? She had orgasmed
once: the water drops kept her high and awake during
her sleep times, and two sleeps ago, in a state of
only half wakefulness she'd climaxed while watching
the tape of herself coming while he fucked her ass.
It had rushed on her almost without warning, like a
summer shower. She'd lost all voice control, making
loud, lovely sex sounds in the room while the orgasm
was prolonged by one drop, then another. She was
lucky he hadn't heard. Then she'd slept heavily for
the first time in forever, turning her body a little
so the drops didn't fall directly on her clitoris,
because she became very sensitive after sex. But by
the time he waked her it was the same again.
There was a routine they followed, which didn't
include her daughter and didn't include much sex. She
thought of her all the time, maternally, sexually,
brutally. Though she knew she had become depraved,
she still wondered at her kissing, sucking, and
whipping her girl. When he played the tapes of those
encounters she watched awestruck. She wondered if the
girl thought of her, and if so, what. She was afraid
she had lost her forever, though as long as both were
here together there was the chance to make it up to
her. And that time would be forever.
The routine was that she spent most of her time in her
chamber, always immobilized and always with the plugs
and white noise machine, usually with the colander
device. He blindfolded her unless he wanted her to
watch the pictures of rape and torture; recently he
had wanted her to do that most of the time. Some
pictures were shown all the time, which made her think
they were favorites of his. Others came and went.
Pictures of her daughter and her were shown often.
When allowed up, she had the toilet and bath, her
exercises, and her feeding. He had stopped feeding
her by mouth so she usually ate something from the dog
bowl. It was as though he was bored with her, bored
with humiliating and hurting her, bored with sexing
her. She tried being extra good for him, but it
didn't help. She thought he must be using the girl
most of the time.
He had started making her sweep, mop, and clean the
rooms she inhabited. This at least made her happy,
because only then and when exercising was she allowed
to use her arms and hands, and she worked hard.
Everyday he found some fault with what she did and
hurt her a little, with pins or a light whip or nipple
clamps, but he didn't hurt her enough to cause her to
make noises. Most of the time she wasn't even tied
down, but simply knelt for him or lay still while he
punished her. She had become a very good slave,
indeed. She would take greater hurts, with grace, if
he would only play with her body. Poor little slave.
She wished her arms were free to clutch her belly, to
help support the liquid that made her look like she
had a bit of gut. He ass muscles were so tired, and
the pressure just didn't stop. She could feel a
dribble of liquid on her thigh.
-----------------------------------------------------
Finally, he let her flush everything from her lower
bowel. This was the first time she had been able to
hold for the entire period, and he was pleased with
her. "You work to submit and to please more fully
than your daughter, more than most of my girls, in
fact. I think it is time to reward you a bit. Oh,
not too much," he chuckled, "I wouldn't want you to
get over stimulated."
He had her get up from the toilet and lean on the
countertop. He usually did this so he could clean her
ass. Today, though, once she was well wiped, he
lubricated her and played with her ass, sliding
fingers far inside her and rubbing them across the
velvety lining within. She was laying with her mons
firmly on the counter top. When he pushed into her it
pushed her down onto the counter and gave her some
pleasure. She was hopeful.
He lay a folded towel under her head, since she
couldn't cushion herself with her arms. She spread
her legs to give him better access, then waited while
he undressed. She hadn't felt his penis inside her
for so long. He stood behind her and played with her
sex. She almost made a sound with her throat. She
was wet, and he entered her pussy, one push all the
way in. She almost grunted, it was so large. It
still surprised her with the pressure, wherever he
used it. And she hadn't had her pussy used almost
since she had arrived here. For some reason he had
stopped using it before anything else. Now he fucked
her for a bit, and she got closer and closer. She
tried to not move. She wanted him not to stop just to
frustrate her.
But she couldn't stop her excitement. She did breathe
faster and faster, and she pushed her ass back against
him and squeezed him with her pussy. He pulled out
and she did whimper in disappointment. "Ha! You
haven't completely learned, have you?" What would he
do? He started spanking her ass. She lay quietly,
trying not to move or respond. He was being playful.
"Good girl. You do try to follow the rules, don't
you? I may have to make harder rules for you." Then
he put his dick up against her anus and pushed. She
pushed out and let him in, and again he went in all
the way, in one push, all the way to bump against the
end of her rectum. He held her down by her waist, one
hand on each side, pushing downward heavily, leaning
on her. Fucking her ass, he was fucking downwards,
his hips splatting against her rear, and the force
banged her sex softly against the counter top. She
came closer. Please don't finish too soon. Let me
come too. She was having difficulty drawing a breath,
with him leaning on her, but she was close. She was
there, almost there, responding to her cramping around
his dick, the force of it bumping against her rectum,
and the pounding of her sex on the counter, and then
she was over and was able to come in quiet sighs
while he finished with her ass.
Sex left her so drowsy. She lay almost asleep,
feeling the pressure in her rear, idly wondering how
much semen her master had shot into her, feeling his
weight push her arms hard into her back and push her
front hard onto the counter. He lay on her after
coming, giving her the contrast of the cold, hard
counter top with his warm, soft body. She would like
to be able to kiss him.
But he got up and made her kneel before him. This
again. She readied herself to suck his penis clean,
the bad work of a slave. He was about half erect, and
when she looked up at him there wasn't any shit to be
seen. She had been clean for him. There was some
shitty smell, and a little taste, but it didn't even
make her gag. She lingered on his penis, hoping to
arouse him again. Maybe he would fuck her again soon.
-----------------------------------------------------
He was doing something different. She was
blindfolded, but not tied down. He led her across the
floor, then for the first time in her captivity he was
walking her up the stairs. After a flight she was
walking on carpet, and they seemed to go up several
flights. She couldn't be sure. The place she was in
had a quiet feel to it. He made her kneel then left
her there for a bit, holding herself still. Then she
heard him return and someone was with him, someone
padding on bare feet. Her daughter?
When he took off the blindfold she saw that she was in
an enormous, lovely room, carpeted, with rich
furniture, decorated with paintings and living, green
plants. Against one wall was an astoundingly large
bed. She had never seen anything like it. There were
at least three torchiere lamps but none was lighted,
and she realized that the room had windows and that it
was a sunny day. She stared up at the windows, seeing
nothing but blue. Oh. Oh my.
She heard a sound and turned her head, and there was
her daughter, also staring at the sky. Her daughter
looked at her for just a moment, then turned her head
away. The daughter had both new and old bruises on
her torso, and a few fresh welts.
"Today you're going to be able to visit a place of
loveliness, my main bedroom. You will play statues,
holding a lovely position for the day. Not a hard
position, but don't disappoint me by moving. I want
you to add to my lovely decorations."
He took the mother first, had her climb onto the bed
and kneel at the left side by the headboard, facing
the center. Her knees were wide apart. He fastened
her feet loosely together and fixed a chain between
her feet and hands. He then placed her daughter
kitty-corner to her and fixed her the same way. They
were facing each other and the daughter tried to look
away.
"No, no, none of that. You'll look straight ahead or
I'll punish you." He looked the daughter in the face.
"And you know that I would enjoy that." He brought
in a large glass of water, which he made the mother
drink down. He got another one for the daughter. He
took the glass away and when he returned he pulled two
ball gags from a pocket. "Now, I can't chance that
you two might talk to each other. I won't tolerate
that." Neither had been gagged for a long time. Then
he walked out, leaving them to look silently at each
other, a still life in flesh.
---------------------------------------------------
The first minutes were not difficult, physically.
They knelt and looked toward each other. The daughter
tried to avert her eyes, the mother to speak with her
eyes. The daughter was more successful until he came
through the room, with a sheaf of papers, and told her
she was building punishment points. So they looked at
each other. The mother tried not to cry. She did
that so easily. But she was here with her daughter
who hated her, and she couldn't communicate at all.
She was sorry she was so weak, and sorry she had hit
her, and she hated herself again, more than her
daughter could possibly know.
The hours were awful. The mother's legs went to
sleep, and she tried to shift around to relieve them
and he caught her moving. Her back and her neck
started to hurt. It was almost impossible to remain
still. She found she had to urinate, then had to go
more, then more. She was wriggling because of this
when he caught her again. The daughter seemed to hold
her position better, but by the end of a few hours she
too was shifting around. They listened for when he
seemed nearby, doing God knows what, to set
themselves, but he seemed to pass through at just
those times that they were moving the most, and he
kept catching them. Of course he cheated.
The mother's bladder became so full that she forgot
about her back and neck. She was staining to keep
from going, but it was so hard, and so uncomfortable,
that she knew she was going to lose. After a time she
couldn't keep still, with the pressure to go building
so. She had always hated being caught in a car on a
long trip, unable to use the restroom, because her
father had seemed sadistic in his unwillingness to
stop. This was worse. She couldn't control herself.
She was going to wet the bed and she couldn't stop
herself. Then she heard a hissing sound and saw her
daughter go with a force that surprised her,
spattering the bed far in front of her. The smell of
urine came to her like a warm mist. Her daughter hung
her head and cried, not trying to hold it in, and the
mother cried in sorrow for her. She wanted to creep
over to her to comfort her, but she was afraid to. It
was another twenty minutes before she wet her corner
of the bed.
When their Master returned the next time he was quiet
with them. He made them get onto the carpet until he
could strip the bed, then he made them each kneel at
the other's corner, with her nose pressed into the wet
mattress, like you would do if training a puppy. They
stayed that way the rest of the day, smelling each
other's urine. He wouldn't let them raise their heads
from it. They each knew he was going to do something
awful to them.
----------------------------------------------------
That evening he removed all their restraints, fed them
from dog bowls, and had them bathe in a bathroom off
the upstairs bedroom. They were in there, together
and alone, so she tried to whisper to her daughter, to
apologize, but her daughter said nothing and kept
looking away from her. When they came out the bed was
made. He had them climb on it and lay side by side on
their stomachs, their hands reaching toward the
headboard. He had a wooden paddle, like the type they
used to use in schools, with holes drilled in it. He
said, "You two have been awful today and have a lot
coming to you. I'm not going to tie you. You're
going to stay in place on your own while I punish you.
Do you have anything you want to say?"
The daughter said: "She was trying to talk to me in
the bathroom." Sharper than a serpent's tooth it was.
The mother just looked at he daughter. She couldn't
respond.
"Well, I suppose she has some extra punishment coming,
doesn't she? I'll let you do it, as a reward." He
let her up and handed her the paddle. "Now hit her
straight down on the rump." The daughter did, and
the force drove the middle of her body into the
mattress, then bounced her part way up again. It was
as bad as the whippings. "Give her another one."
Mother grabbed the bedspread with her hands to hold
herself still. She tried to stay quiet. The daughter
hit her a third time and she raised her head back in
pain, looking something like a coyote baying at the
moon. Oh, it burned. In between she was flexing her
ass muscles, trying to control the hurt, without
success. The fourth hit she almost tried to dodge.
All of her muscles were working under her skin. The
fifth hit she did move.
"Well, you are getting uppity, aren't you? We'll
start these over. But, because your daughter is such
a snitch she'll take them for you and you'll get to
deliver them." At that both mother and a daughter
gasped, and the daughter tried to back away from the
Master.
"No, Master, it isn't fair, it isn't. I was trying to
be good. I was!" She started crying in shock and in
fear, but stood stock still when he stared at her.
Then she crept slowly onto the bed, crying, and
stretched herself down. He pulled the mother up and
handed her the paddle. She stood over her crying
daughter, holding the paddle like a baseball bat,
staring down at her daughter then looking over to the
Master, then down, then she dropped the paddle and
fell at his knees and was wailing.
"Please, Master, don't make me do it. Don't make me
hit my daughter. Please, I'll do anything else you
tell me. Please, she's my daughter, Master. Oh
please don't make me, please don't make me." She was
holding onto his legs and sobbing as though lamenting
the dead, and he seemed in danger of falling. The
daughter was looking over at her with large, wet eyes,
the eyes of a deer caught in the headlights.
He leaned down and started caressing her hair. Again.
Some more. After a few minutes she controlled
herself. "So," he said, "you're not just an
ass-kissing slave, are you? You do care for some
things besides your own pleasures and pains." He
pried her arms gently off his legs, lifted her, held
her to him, kissed her face. Her face was wet. She
wanted to know if she should be grateful to him, or if
he was toying with her.
Perhaps she should be grateful. Perhaps not. He
didn't hurt them anymore. Instead he made them assume
new poses on the bed, kneeling with their hands
fastened behind their heads, their arms pulled back,
thrusting out their breasts like nymphs, or starlets.
He told them they would not get another chance, and
not to move, but he didn't gag them when he left.
They held their poses. Their arms would get tired
soon. She was concentrating on keeping her arms
pulled back when she heard her daughter whisper:
"Thank you, Mother," and then, "I'm so sorry."
---------------------------------------------------
He was ready to play. He let them end their poses,
move, use the bathroom. Then he had them lie down on
the bed, side by side on their stomachs, with their
legs dangling on the floor. He had his broad leather
belt, doubled-over. Once they were down he started
whipping them on their asses and thighs, first one of
them, then the other, one hit on each. He went back
and forth. They jerked with each hit, grabbed the
covers, held their bodies down to the bed as firmly as
they could. At some early point their hands met and
they held each other's hand, and he let them. They
were sharing, but not completely. The mother's ass
was marked with parallel bruises and round welts and
was very sensitive. She wanted to be brave for her
daughter, but it pleased him to hit her where her
daughter had hit her earlier. Almost immediately she
couldn't stop moving and mewling into the bed. She
held her daughter's hand very tightly.
He hit them again and again, deciding to crush them
anew. He never grew tired. He would go on until they
broke or were unconscious.
The mother broke completely first. She went from
mewling to making loud cries, muffled into the
bedspread but still audible. Her daughter grunted
into the bedspread with each hit. But her legs were
trembling and she started moving her ass in a motion
something like fucking, as it burned more and more.
Finally she raised her head and made a keening sound
with a hit, and then she made sounds each time. They
both moved their bodies with the pain which was really
three pains: the initial shock of the belt, the biting
a few seconds after the belt, and the burning. They
lost their grip on each other's hand and forced their
faces into the bed, crying, wetting the spread with
mucus and tears. Each was lost in her own, private
little world of pain, not knowing anything else, just
knowing she couldn't escape it. Each was moving her
legs around, kicking a little, twisting in place,
dying. He whipped and whipped.
When he stopped they kept moving and crying into the
bed. The burning would continue for a long time.
Both had torn skin. He stood quietly until finally
their crying subsided and they merely made little
moans. Then he made them raise their heads. "Don't
move," he ordered, and went off to have dinner.
-----------------------------------------------------
There was no need to pleasure them. He could do that
whenever he wanted. There was no challenge anymore to
making them desire his touch. They had succumbed long
ago. He would, then, just use them in innovative
ways. He made them kneel in front of him; first the
older one, then the younger, sucked on his penis. He
didn't want to come too quickly. He thought he might
have two shots in him tonight. No good to give one
away. He made them lick him, cheek to cheek, as one.
Then he made them get back on the bed, right next to
each other, asses toward him, and started working
their pussies. First the older one, then the younger.
He was always methodical. He used a lot of lubricant
with them, and despite himself he did things that
might bring them pleasure. He always liked pulling on
pussy lips, milking them, and he did that now, but
they were still hurting too much, and were too cowed.
Then he began working their asses. This was fun!
They were so sore that they whimpered when he did it,
even after he threatened them, and they had to
overcome themselves just to stay still. More
lubricant. Ah, the insides of their rectums were so
soft. They had no idea what they were holding in
themselves. He particularly liked the younger one,
because she was smaller and he had to use some force
to get in. He had made her bleed several times -- not
by trying -- then had backed off anal sex to keep from
wearing her out.
This night he started by fucking their pussies, first
the older one. He didn't spend too much time in
either pussy, because this wasn't what he wanted most.
He just wanted to use them in various ways. He
pulled out of the younger one, who still had the
tightest little thing, and went to the older one's
anus. He massaged her ass, making her hurt, and put
his penis up to her anus, saying, "Remember, give me
the maximum pleasure." Then he entered her. She
always cooperated completely. She was so obedient.
While he fucked her poor ass he spanked her, causing
the most lovely high-pitched little cries. It was
amazing how quickly she had forgotten how to control
her voice. He might begin working with her on that
again, and perhaps make her learn how to take still
more. She fucked well, even with him spanking her and
her whimpering at the hurt. If he wasn't careful he
would finish too quickly.
Then on to the younger one. She was very tight, as
usual, but tried to help him. Ah, it was good to
slide all the way into her, past such a tight
sphincter. He fucked her for a bit, then pulled all
the way out. Yes there was some blood again. He went
to her pussy, fucking in there with his prick a little
shitty. Then to the older one's ass, then to her
pussy, too. He was going back and forth, staying
close. He spanked the younger one the next time he
entered her ass. Ahh, what lovely cries! It was time
for his first orgasm. He started fucking her faster
and came gloriously into her.
He pulled out, turned the older one around and
presented his prick to her. She knew what to do.
He'd never had a slave try so hard to please. It
would be a shame to lose her, though she was becoming
boringly predictable. She took his penis into her
mouth and cleaned it of all traces of their combined
shit, mostly her daughter's. She still heaved when
she found any but worked to swallow it nonetheless.
When she was done she held him in her mouth. She
looked sick and glum.
He would take some time to recharge. So, he would
make them love each other for an interlude. "Rise,
and kiss each other sweetly, like you know how to do."
-----------------------------------------------------
The mother thought she couldn't do this, not with her
mouth so filthy. She wasn't sure she wouldn't vomit
yet, and she didn't want to think of what he would do
in that case. Her daughter was reluctant, too. She
came close but didn't kiss. Then he ordered them to
kiss immediately and they did, mouth on mouth, tongue
to tongue. The daughter gagged right in the middle of
the kiss and the mother pulled back. A moment later
they were kissing again, and soon there was almost no
shit smell or taste.
They had no heart in it this time but had to do it.
Their arms were free and soon wrapped around each
other's body, so they held each other and after a bit
became aware that their breasts were touching and
rubbing on each other. They continued to kiss on
demand, and finally they noticed the softness of their
mouths and the sweetness of their tongues, and the
dirtiness of what they were doing, and they were able
to do it full heartedly. They focused on their mouths
and their breasts and tried to screen him out. Their
asses hurt so much, throbbing with heat. Their mouths
were active, pulling on each other, softing each
other, making such a luscious refuge. If only they
could slip into each other's mouths and fall forever.
He couldn't allow that, could he? It was time for
round two. He sat on the edge of the bed and made the
daughter kneel between his legs. She started sucking
and licking him, only slowly bringing him to full
erection. Much work would be required. While she
worked on him, he called the mother over and gave her
the belt. "Now whip her until I come," he said, "and
don't give me any nonsense about her being your
daughter. If you don't do your job then I'll take her
and I'll hurt her more than you ever could, and you
afterward. So start now!"
So she started beating her love again, flogging that
poor battered ass and making her daughter cry onto his
dick while she pumped him up and down and sucked as
much as she could, trying after all just to make him
come, come now, come now! It took him a long time to
come. If not for the beating of the daughter he might
not have done it at all.
-----------------------------------------------------
Still, it wasn't as exciting anymore. It was time to
replace them, to get someone new to introduce to
submission. So one day while they were in their long
period of immobility, he went out and got himself a
young Vietnamese girl. Perhaps she would be too
submissive? Well, he'd find out.
Her roused both of them and brought them to the
punishment room, where he gagged them and fixed their
hands behind their necks. He made them stand against
a wall and told them to stay there until he called for
them. He went out and led in the new girl, still
dressed, shackled, with the ski mask over her head.
He unfastened her as he had the mother, as he had
every captive he'd owned.
She looked around terrified, stared at the two bound
slaves, and backed toward a door. "Come to the middle
of the room and take off all your clothes," he said.
She backed up to the door, and he said, "After you try
to escape I'll punish you severely. Remember that."
Unlike the mother, she screamed and panicked and ran
here and there, even straight at the mother and
daughter, who moved aside to avoid her. He hit her
several times with his long whip before she lost her
wind and fell to the floor. Then on his command she
got up red faced and stripped, crying loudly the whole
time, calling for her mother. She looked to be about
sixteen, with smallish breasts but such a lovely lean
body and long black hair. She had almost no body
hair.
Once she was strung up, he called the mother and
daughter over. He removed shackles and gags and gave
them each a riding crop. They were to beat the girl,
one on each side. They took turns swinging the crops,
one hit on his first count, then the other hit on his
second count. The girl followed the usual pattern,
running out of energy almost right away, hanging
between strokes, sweating enormously. He took his
clothes off and made the one who wasn't delivering the
blow suck on his penis, moving around the girl
counterclockwise.
He told the mother to go over to the girl, to tell her
how it would be, to make her kiss sweetly. She did,
and the poor thing let the mother take her mouth and
even put her own tongue into the mother's mouth, while
crying and crying.
That night he decided to get rid of them. He could
get another playmate to train with the new girl. He
had them get dressed, then bound and blindfolded them
and put them in the trunk of a large car. What was
this? They drove a long time, turning often. He
transferred them to a van, where they sat up, still
blindfolded, waiting for him to kill them. Finally he
stopped. He pulled off the blindfolds and unbound
them. He opened the door and pulled them out. They
didn't know what would happen. He said, "There's a
town that way. About five miles. Enjoy your new
life. But remember, you'll never get rid of me. I'm
in you now. And I'll be in touch." Then he drove
off.
Chapter Nine: "Love"
How does one come back from total domination? One
comes back to a world in which everything has changed,
relationships have changed, the sun is different in
the sky. The mother and daughter came back to a son
who clung and a husband who didn't know how to act
around them. To friends who never asked the things
that were most on their minds. To a world where they
wanted to avoid most familiar places and people. They
came back to questioning police, police who wanted as
many details as there were, police who could find no
reports of a kidnapped Asian girl and who became open
skeptical, over time, of her existence. They came
back to a world in which everyone went to counselors,
together and apart, and everything they said was
scrutinized for hidden meanings, so that each finally
decided alone to just not mention certain things. It
was a world in which each expected, any moment, to be
snatched away again, to find her freedom to be nothing
but a cruel practical joke on the part of the
omnipotent Master.
There were practical issues and sexual issues. She
and her husband threw themselves into practical things
to avoid having to face the sexual. How to get their
son back in school? They had to know that the school
was secure, but they also had to get him to know that.
And what of the daughter? She withdrew, was sullen,
was quiet, didn't go back to school, didn't even want
to be home schooled. Most of the time she lay on her
bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking what?
The mother and her husband were afraid to express
their desires to each other, afraid to try sex because
they each thought it would be disastrous. But each
was filled with desires, she with some she had not had
before, because she was changed.
He wanted to be a good husband, but he didn't know
what he should do. He wanted to love her, but the
counselor had told him it might be a long time before
she could enjoy that again. She wanted him to hold
her, but after a bit of that he was horny. It hadn't
been that long that she had been back, but he'd had
virtually no sex since she'd been taken.
----------------------------------------------------
One night he was massaging her back to help her relax.
Then he told her to strip, to give her a complete
massage. Her legs, arms, ass, the back of her neck.
He was trying to stay away from anything that she
would see as sexual, but he also wanted her to feel
the sexual tension. Finally he had her turn over and
massaged her front. He used a vanilla scented oil on
her, up her thin, smooth thighs and around and past
her vagina, staying away from the hair that was
growing back. He did her stomach and up her chest.
Her eyes were closed and she was breathing softly. He
decided to massage her breasts.
Her nipples stood under his hands. He took more oil
and squeezed her nipples softly, then rubbed her whole
breasts and pulled them in a milking motion. She
tensed for just a moment, a bad look on her face, and
then looked relaxed again. "That's okay, honey, I
just want you to be relaxed." The liar. He massaged
her face, the muscles of her neck, ran his fingers
through her hair, pulling on her hair softly again and
again. Then down her shoulders to her sides, and to
her stomach. She put a hand on his arm and said
"Massage me lower, sweetheart." He looked at her
uncertainly and she said "It's all right, really. I
want you to."
He began massaging her in the way he knew she liked,
working around her vulva, not touching there at first,
then doing her thighs while he slowly pulled her legs
open, then up to her labia, just brushing her sex as
he moved to her stomach, then starting it again. With
each cycle he brushed a little more firmly and a
little more directly, and soon she was breathing much
more fully and the tip of her tongue moved around her
lips. The next pass he opened her pussy lips; the
next he inserted fingers in her. She was very wet.
He took more oil and worked her lips softly, then the
valley from her vagina to her clitoris. He bent down
to kiss her sex and suddenly she was crying
hysterically.
She rolled away from him and cried into a pillow,
sobbing massive, gulping sobs, her back to him. He
held her, trying to hide his penis which was
completely erect. "It's all right, honey," he soothed
her, "It was just too soon, that's all. You're all
right with me. Really. I love you, honey, and we'll
get through this." But she wouldn't be comforted.
"You don't understand," she said when she could
finally make sensible words, though she was just
stringing phrases together. "You don't understand.
Couldn't love me. If you knew. No one could. Didn't
tell the police. Or the counselor. I have to tell
you. You're going to hate me. I'm so ashamed." She
was crying too heavily to talk again, then after a
moment repeated, "I'm so ashamed. I don't deserve you
to love me. I should be dead!" She hiccuped as she
spoke.
She was wiping her face on the sheets. He was
hovering over her, not knowing what to do, wondering
what he could say. "Honey, anything he made you do,
it wasn't your fault. He made you do them. It wasn't
you..." But she pushed him away and sat on the edge
of the bed, still rubbing her face with the sheets,
looking as far away from him as she could, so she
could confess.
"But it was me. You don't understa ... you don't ...
what you don't know is that he made me want him." Now
she was calmer, and she spoke in a very quiet, very
flat, very soft voice. "All the things he did to me,
using me all those ways, what I didn't tell anyone was
that he made me want him for sex. I wanted him to do
all those things. I couldn't help myself. I thought
about it all the time. "
"Honey, I know, I think I know, but that was all part
of being a captive. The counselor told me some things
like that could happen. It just takes time."
"But you see, darling, I love you, but I still want
it." She was crying quietly now. Then: "I think I'm
ruined. He ruined me for ordinary love." She turned
to her husband. Her face was red, wet, her eyes
swollen, and she had too bright a smile for him.
"See, I want sex in my rear and my mouth. I learned
to like it and to be good at it, and I think of ..."
she started crying again. "And I still think of it
all the time." When she spoke again she tried to
sound ironic: "I guess the good part is that it is
okay if you would like to do them, because I would
like you to."
"Honey, I don't want to do those things to you. I'm
not like him." But he did, he always had. He just
couldn't because she was so distressed. Maybe they
never could.
"Darling, I do like those things now, I really do.
And if you'd like to try them, I'd like to do them,
but with you, not him." She started crying once again
and just said "Please forgive me" before dissolving.
He held her a long time, doing spoons, until she was
asleep. He wrapped his arms all around her and held a
hand lightly over her eyes protectively. He kept
kissing her hair.
----------------------------------------------------
He slept. He woke during the night and she was awake
again, facing him, kissing one of his hands. He moved
his fingers softly over her cheek and lips, and she
sucked a finger all the way into her mouth. He turned
on instantly. She moved right up to him and started
kissing his face, sucking his lips, wriggling up
against him. He held her away from him for a moment,
and asked her: "Honey, are you sure?"
"Yes. Please let's make love. I do want you. Please
do this for me."
He caressed her whole body, and as he did that she
scooted down to his prick and sucked it into her
mouth. It fit more easily than her captor's had. She
gave maximum pleasure, but worked him very slowly.
She paused to say: "Sweetheart, I want to do you all
the way. Let me." She went back to sucking him, but
let him turn her body around far enough to play with
her ass and sex. She was completely slippery, not
just faking interest for him. He wet his fingers on
her and slipped a thumb up her ass. He fucked her ass
with one thumb. He was able to reach his other hand
around and moved it to her sex, lightly across the
smooth skin between sex and ass, and up and over her
ass. It made her shiver and quake. She moaned
against his penis. He started masturbating her while
she sucked him, and she made sex noises, but then he
couldn't hold himself any longer and came into her
mouth, gasping, losing track of what he was trying to
do. The earth moved for him. It did. He had never
experienced that.
She hadn't come. She held his penis in her mouth for
a bit, swirling his semen about with her tongue,
tasting it, finding it in some indefinable way
different than her captor's. His penis didn't become
flaccid. It had been so long since he had done
anything. She thought to take a chance. "Now,
sweetheart, do my rear. Make me come."
He turned her over and had her kneel up. He opened
the middle drawer on the bedside table, removed their
vibrator, and plugged it in. Then he took mentholated
petrolatum and worked her ass until she her anus was
relaxed and open. He used the petrolatum on her
vulva, and put some on her nipples as well. She liked
his hands on her and she wanted him, her love,
preparing her body.
By the time he had her ready he was completely hard
again. He pushed lightly into her and she pushed
outward and the head was in. Then he pushed in all
the way. She used what her captor had taught her to
give him the most pleasure. He fucked her slowly and
started using the big rubber head of the vibrator on
her sex, finding it easy to hold back a little now
that he had come once. He worked her until she, too,
was gasping and turning her head back and forth and
grabbing the sheets, when he started fucking fast, so
that they actually orgasmed at almost the same
instant. They were pushing against each other, making
noises in two different pitches, and finally
collapsing together, her legs pushed straight down
the bed and he on top of her all the way down.
They lay for a few minutes. He put his forearms on
the bed to support himself and take weight off of her.
After a few more minutes he pulled out of her and
rolled to the side, making sure that he didn't lose
skin contact with her. Finally she said softly: "Wait
here." She went into the bathroom and ran some water,
came back with a warm washcloth, and cleaned his
penis. He twitched when she ran it over the head.
She tossed the cloth to the floor.
They snuggled, half asleep, touching each other,
kissing. He didn't mind that she had his semen on her
breath. After a bit he noticed that her eyes had
filled and she was trying not to cry. "Honey, what's
the matter? Tell me. Did I hurt you?"
"Oh no. Oh no. It's just that I, I didn't know. I
didn't know if I would ever be able to make love to
you again, or if you would want me."
But there was something else, too. He was smaller
than her captor, and she had found herself being
disappointed that there wasn't as much pressure inside
her.
-----------------------------------------------------
She and her husband were affectionate in the morning.
It was time for him to drop their son off at school
and return to work, as long as she could stand being
alone. She was careful to lock the door behind him.
She then went straightaway to her daughter's room.
The girl was still asleep, this dear sweet thing that
shared the secret no on else would ever discover.
They hadn't talked about it even between themselves.
The whipping, yes, they told the police and the
counselors about that. He had made them do it, so
there was no shame. But not their passion for each
other, required by him but then self-sustaining. Even
the husband did not know about that. How could they
ever tell anyone?
She wondered if she and her daughter would ever be
able to be normal together. The daughter had leaned
on her, entering the police station in that small
town, then had held her hand tightly while they waited
for her husband and others to arrive. She'd gone
almost silent afterwards, saying little even to her
counselor, and almost nothing to her mother.
Now the mother sat at the edge of her bed and stroked
her hair. After a bit the daughter woke up, but she
didn't look at her mother. "Sweets, it's time to get
up. We have to talk."
"What?" She hadn't answered for a minute, and her
voice seemed hard.
"Well, I think we need to talk. About what happened
to us. We haven't yet." She was nervous.
"What do we have to talk about?"
"About what happened, what we did. What he made us
do."
Silence.
"I think we have to, sweets, so we can get past it."
"What good does talking do? It was better when he
made you shut up."
It was as though she had been slapped. She sat on the
bed without moving, holding her hands in her lap.
After a bit her lower lip quivered and her eyes
filled. One drop ran down her cheek. Trying not to
cry, she said: "Please, dear, it's so hard. I know
it's hard, but we shouldn't be so distant, we went
through so much. I love you. Isn't there anything I
can do?"
She scratched her daughter's back with light
fingernails, the way her daughter had liked so much
since she was a toddler. Silence. Then, finally, her
daughter said quietly, almost too quietly to be heard,
"I'm sorry Mother. I didn't mean to hurt you."
The daughter sat up and they hugged and kissed.
Chaste kisses. Mother/daughter kisses. They both
cried. They pulled a few inches apart and she looked
at her daughter's face. They were the same height
now. She looked over the dark eyes, and the lips that
were just a few inches away. The memory came to her
out of nowhere, how it had felt to cross over from
sweet to sensual kisses with her, the precise moment
it had occurred, the feel of that small tongue, how
she had become so lost in her lust for her daughter's
mouth. How delicious it had been to do that thing,
both erotic and sweet, and so easy once she started,
though she knew it was evil and only God would be able
to forgive her. How had her Master turned her so
completely?
And now she realized that she was staring at her
daughter's mouth, and wanting again to kiss her
sensually. No, don't do this to her. Let her
recover. I need to let my baby be. I don't have to
act on those feelings. She remembered how the
encounters had ended and thought her daughter surely
would remember the whippings as the major part of
them. I hurt her so badly. I can't do anything to
her ever again. She moved her head back to a more
proper distance.
Then the thing happened that ripped the fabric of her
universe. Her daughter leaned over to her and kissed
her softly on the mouth. There was no hesitation or
fumbling. Her lips were partly open, and she caressed
her mother's lips with hers, then pulled at her
mother's lower lip with hers. The mother found
herself kissing back, then stopped, leaned further
back, and put her hands on her daughter's cheeks.
"No, sweets, no, we can't do that. I love you, but we
can't do that."
"We're different now, Mother. It's not the same. What
do you think I think about all the time? About what
we did. It's what I want to do. I know you do too,
and I know that you'll do it."
She would. She knew she would do whatever her
daughter told her. She had become so good at
following directions. Still, she tried to resist.
"Please don't do this, sweets, please, we'll get
through it. You'll see. Don't make me." But when
her daughter moved her hands away and pulled her
mother's face to her own, she didn't resist much. She
let her daughter kiss her and then she was kissing
back and was hardly able to tell the moment that she
became an active participant. She was sighing as they
kissed open mouthed, moving the moist parts of their
lips together and brushing tongues. She became
suddenly short of breath. Her daughter was panting.
They stopped for just a moment and rested their open
mouths lightly on each other's, breathing each other's
breaths, and they moved their lips and the flesh
around their lips ever so softly across one another,
feeling skin that is as soft as anything one can
imagine, then touched just the tips of their tongues
before invading each other's mouths again.
"Mother, you need to take off your clothes." She knew
she would do it, and she was so lost again that she
wanted to do it, but part of her held back.
"Now, Mother."
She stood, futzed for a moment, then unbelted her robe
and slipped it off. She pulled her nightgown over her
head. Now her breasts were exposed. She slipped down
her panties. She stood naked before her little girl,
and her daughter was looking at her body. Her mind
was filled with danger signs. She felt naked again,
for the first time since the captor had made her strip
and then had shaved her muff. She didn't know what to
do.
"Don't move." Her daughter got up and walked over to
her. She was still dressed. She put her hands under
her mother's breasts and hefted them, as if weighing
sacks of some useful liquid. She took her mother's
nipples in her fingers and squeezed them hard. The
mother gasped a little but didn't move. "You can make
sounds for me, Mother. I like to hear them." She
pulled her mother to her and began kissing her again,
while playing with her breasts. She bent down and
sucked and nibbled on the nipples.
The daughter pulled off her nightgown. She wasn't
wearing panties. The two of them embraced, feeling
the other's body with her own body, all the way down
the front. The mother still knew she oughtn't do
this. She moved her palms over her daughter's ass,
then brought them around and made circular motions
with her palms on her daughter's pointy nipples.
"Mother, do to me what you did to me there. When I
was hung up." She led her mother by one hand back to
the bed and lay down.
The mother leaned over her and sucked a whole tit into
her mouth. She wouldn't be able to do that much
longer. She remembered to bite a nipple, and her
daughter cried out, not loudly. She moved down to her
pussy and sucked one side into her mouth. It was then
that she found that her daughter was still shaving
herself there. She took two fingers and put them into
her daughter. For a moment she thought she might hurt
her, but then she remembered that her daughter had
been had by the captor's enormous cock for months. So
she fucked her fingers in and out while she licked and
sucked on her daughter's vulva.
The daughter was making only little whispered cries,
still more sound than she would have made at his
place. At some point the cries became louder, almost
sob-like. At that time she pushed her sex
rhythmically against her mother's face. She cried
"yes, yes, yes," and her mother didn't for a second
think of it as being a trite outburst, because her
daughter was climaxing and pulling Mother's face into
her vagina, and Mother was breathless and excited
herself.
They lay still, just breathing, then the mother crept
up her daughter's body and held her, nuzzled her hair,
brushed her lips across her daughter's closed eyes,
then moved her lips down and across her daughter's
mouth. Her daughter opened her eyes and they kissed
and her daughter fondled her pussy.
"Mother, you need to shave yourself." She was playing
with her mother's pussy while she talked. Her mother
lay with half-closed eyes, doing what she was good at,
surrendering.
"I can't sweets." She made a little squeak because
her daughter's hand moved right across her clitoris.
"I can't, because your father would know." She didn't
want her daughter to stop.
"Just tell him that it's another thing you learned to
like when you were a prisoner."
Mother's eyes grew wide. She pulled her daughter's
hand away, leaned up on a elbow, looked down at her,
and said: "You were listening!"
"Yes, Mother. I heard everything. You really aren't
very quiet in there. I've listened to you two having
sex a lot of times, and you never close your door all
the way. Just tell Daddy that you like the feeling of
a smooth pussy. That's all you have to do. You
already do other new things with him." She kissed her
mother again and pushed her gently down to the bed.
She pushed two fingers into her mother. Mother was so
easy.
"I'll talk to him, Sweets, okay? I'll do that." She
was high, her clitoris felt electric. Her daughter's
fingers were so smooth and tiny, moving over her, over
her, into her. She tried to say something but only
sighed, then managed, "Sweets, do me please. I need
that now. I ... oh! Oh! Do me like I did you."
"No, Mother. You have to do yourself. I'll kiss you
while you do."
"No! I can't do that. It's too much."
"Do it, Mother." She moved a hand to one of her
mother's breasts and twisted the nipple. Her mother
winced.
"Please, Sweets."
"Do it." She twisted it again, and used her
fingernails on it. The mother held her arms at her
sides and screwed her eyes shut. A vein stood out on
her forehead and her face was red. "I told you we
were changed. And I'm different from you. You can be
the mother when other people are around, but you're
not in charge when we're alone."
So her mother started masturbating, using two fingers
on herself, then rolling herself with the palm of her
hand. She thought she couldn't finish it, doing
herself in front of someone else, but she was wrong.
Her daughter leaned over her and placed open mouth on
open mouth, touching lips and tongues and mainly
breathing her mother's breaths. She tickled her
mother's breasts gently, no hurting, and they breathed
together, and when her mother came over the edge she
caught her breath and with it her soul. She would
have it forever.
They dozed, cuddling, for a long time. The mother
drifted in and out. When awake she wondered how she
would handle her husband, and how she and her daughter
could keep this a secret. They would have to be so
careful and private. She drifted back out.
And at that very moment the slim Asian girl hung
straight down by her arms, her legs spread, her lovely
hair across her face, welts on her front and back.
She was whimpering. "Master. Master, please. I'll
be good."