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From: "H. Jekyll" <h_jekyll2000@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Submission: "Silent, Chapter One"
Date: Sun, 16 Apr 2000 23:10:23 -0400
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Copyright by H.Jekyll.
Permission is freely granted to post on any
non-commercial site (meaning a site that does not
charge for entance), as long as proper attribution is
given. The story should not be read by anyone under
the legal age to read sexually explicit stories, or by
anyone in a location where it is illegal to read such
stories. Send comments, inquiries, requests, and
criticisms to: h_jekyll2000@yahoo.com.
The following story codes refer to the series, not an
individual chapter:
MF, Ff, MFf, nc, MDom, BD, SM, some scat, etc.
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<1st attachment, "Silent, Ch. one.txt" begin>
Silent H. 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.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
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.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
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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<2nd attachment, "Silent, Ch. two.txt" begin>
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.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
"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.
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