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Subject: {ASSM} Silent, Chapter Five
Date: Fri, 21 Apr 2000 01:10:37 -0400
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Copyright by H.Jekyll. Permission is freely granted
to post on any site that does not charge for entrance,
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 story is a multi-chapter tale of great cruelty, in
the kidnapping-and-domination genre. Further chapters
will follow.
The following story codes refer to the series, not an
individual chapter:
MF, Ff, MFf, nc, MDom, BD, SM, some scat, etc.
---------------------------------------------------
Silent
H. Jekyll
Chapter Five: Daughter
When he checked on her he was angry at first, until he
realized that she was truly ill. A puddle of vomit
lay below her head and a film of it was on her chin.
She was hot to the touch, cramping, and her back
ached. He washed her face with a warm washcloth and
took her out of the stocks, over to the small bed,
where he fastened her in loosely. There was enough
play for her to be able to reach a glass of water
beside the bed and a plastic waste can. Because she
couldn't hold anything down, he got some medication
for her. He decided she was too dehydrated, so he
inserted an IV to bring her fluid levels up and to
deliver an antibiotic. He told her she could tell him
if she had to use the bathroom. She thanked him. He
did not let her remove the blindfold.
Something he gave her knocked her out. When she woke
she had to urinate. She could hardly walk. He
half-carried her to the bathroom where she went. It
burned. He checked her urine and her vagina.
Afterward her let her soak in the tub, washed her,
then carried her back to the bed. She leaned her head
on his chest while he carried her.
She had no appetite for the orange slices he gave her,
whole, from his mouth, but he made her eat them
anyway, after which she slept again.
This continued for some time, though she had no sense
of time at all, for any of the period since she had
arrived. He seemed always to be near the bed when she
woke, and he did not hurt her at all. He let her ask
simple questions.
The third time she awoke she was hungry again, though
very weak. He got some food and fed her like the last
time. He leaned forward until their lips touched. He
blew ice cream into her, rich vanilla with a chocolate
syrup, melted together from the heat of his mouth. He
did not kiss her while feeding her this time. Later
he came by with quiche, a Caesar salad, frozen
peaches, good French bread and butter. He blew enough
Merlot into her to get her a little high. She was
resigned to the fact that he would chew all of her
food before she got it from his mouth, and that it
would come mixed with his saliva. It disturbed her
that almost none of this disturbed her. She looked
forward to him leaning down to her. She found the
warm Merlot exhilarating.
But this was only weakness and illness and the memory
of torture. She rested - what else could she do,
always trussed and blindfolded - and in doing so,
thought. Her husband's face and body floated in front
of her. Her daughter, too, though she was having a
hard time remembering her daughter's face. She had
heard that this could happen. She worried that her
son would go through life a shattered person, because
of what had happened to his mother and sister. Could
he sleep at night? He had always worried about
monsters. Well, one was real.
After some time she was stronger and more confident
that she could, and should resist him. He was bonding
to her and she would use this. So, when he next
leaned down with a mouth full of food for her, she
turned her head away. "No, this isn't right. You
need to let us go." There. She had said it. She
tried to hide her terror. She waited for a response,
a refusal, even a whip, but he was silent for a long
time. When he spoke it was softly, as usual.
"I'm very disappointed in you. You are willful, and
you use my caring against me. It is time to start
correcting you again. But differently. We'll begin
now."
She said nothing while he loosened her, took her to
the center of the room, and fastened her to the
ceiling as before, though her feet touched the floor
this time. He gagged her then left the room. Her
heart was pounding and she was weepy. She had
miscalculated, and was going to be hurt.
When he returned he was not alone. He removed the
blindfold. It was the first time in days, and the
light was absolutely blinding. When she finally could
see, squinting out into the room, there were two,
blurry figures. No! Her eyes cleared a little and
she could tell one was her daughter.
Her daughter. She was alive! What was this? She was
naked, and had some marks on her abdomen. Her breasts
were larger. She noticed that right away. She seemed
taller than the mother remembered. Her pussy was
shaved, too, though the mother couldn't remember ever
having seen her pubic hair. She also was gagged, and
was blindfolded too. He took away the blindfold and
the daughter stared at the mother with the same
intensity as she stared back, and squealed. Oh, to
communicate.
He spoke. "Awhile back I said I might let your
daughter take part in your punishment. Well, here she
is." He handed he daughter a riding crop. "Now, you
haven't seen your mom for a long time. Why don't you
get good and close to her, close enough to whip her
breasts and stomach. And we don't want any holding
back, do we? Do a good job."
The daughter held the crop awkwardly, down from her
body. She moved so slowly, her legs stiff, looking
her mother square in the face, obviously trying to not
look at her breasts or pussy, then turning to look at
the captor, then looking down at the crop, repeating
the whole cycle at least three times. He did nothing.
The daughter looked back at her mother and her sweet
young eyes filled. She was close enough to touch the
mother. She was crying, and in the middle of a cry
she swung the crop and hit her mother right on the
belly.
She screamed through the gag. It had been awhile
since she'd been hurt. You can't remember until it
happens again. Her daughter swung again, lower. She
writhed in the bonds. It hurt so much. He spoke: "I
won't have you pulling your punches like that. Try to
swing through her, like I told you before. And be
sure to mark her breasts up well." The daughter was
obedient and swung the crop with more authority. The
next stroke was right on the left nipple and caused it
to pop up, with an instantaneous welt on the side.
Then a stroke across both breasts. Then just above
her pussy. The daughter did not take much time
between blows, and the mother was constantly in
motion, making sounds through the gag, trying to dodge
the crop, jerking at the impact.
The mother tried to talk with her eyes at first. She
couldn't, though. At the first pain she thought "he
is making her do this," but soon she had room in her
only for the pain itself. When capable of thinking
words, she thought "how can she do this to me?" and
"how can she hurt her mother so?" Soon she saw the
daughter as the immediate instrument of torture and
writhed as she saw the girl's arm move back, swing
forward. Back and forth it went. In the end it
didn't matter that it was her little girl. She jerked
and neighed and sweated and would have eaten shit for
her as well, if only she would stop. The daughter
seemed tireless in her whipping. There was no end.
It went on and on, while he carefully took off his
clothes, folded them, and put them on a chair. He had
an enormous erection.
Finally he had the daughter stop. Mother and daughter
were both covered in sweat and breathing heavily. The
mother had several trickles of blood running down her
front. She hung heavily by her arms, her knees bent
and her legs splayed, barely conscious of anything
beyond the feeling all up her front exactly like that
of a flame being applied. She hadn't the strength to
respond actively to the flame, and so just hung. The
daughter had stopped crying once she started whipping
her mother, and now she stood blank-faced.
"Now, wasn't that something? I told you there's
nothing like being on the other end of the whip. If
you're good, I'll let you do it again sometime."
He made the daughter kneel in front of him, take his
penis in her mouth, and suck him. This was mostly
lost on the mother, for now. The daughter was very
well practiced. She took the prick in deep and pumped
with both hands. She licked it all the way from his
balls to the hole, a long, luscious lick. She licked
the head like a popsicle. He held her head and used
his hips to fuck her face. She took it and didn't
gag. When he came, she swallowed it all easily and,
like her mother had done, held his dick in her mouth
until it all would fit inside. He caressed her hair
and told her how sweet she was.
He took the mother down and let her sit in a collapsed
heap on the floor, not even chaining her hands. Then
he called the girl over to the center of he room, to
the hanging cuffs. He told the girl to raise her
hands. At this the girl began crying again, but this
time in fear. Still, she raised up her hands. He put
the girl in the cuffs, raised her up, and spread and
tied her legs. She was hanging.
"Now look what mother gets to watch, to remember her
little rebellion by." He started whipping the
daughter with the crop. Just like the daughter had
done, except that he was infinitely more powerful, and
slower, making sure that she experienced the entire
stroke before going on to the next. The daughter
screamed at a higher pitch than the mother, at which
he reminded her that she was to take her punishment
silently, as an example to her mother, and of course
he would have to punish her more for this breach. She
didn't stop screaming. Her movements in the bonds
were quicker but more gangly, and a great deal more
frog-like. In a few minutes she too ran out of gas
and between stokes writhed slowly, like some curious
marine creature, only dancing when he hit her, but he
kept on going and going.
And the mother lay in the most miserable pile on the
floor and couldn't turn her head away because he
wouldn't let her, though the burning wouldn't let her
lay still. Part of her wanted the girl punished. She
watched the trickles of blood and the heap of welt on
welt and watched her daughter's eyes glaze over.
Please God, please, please let us die. But you know
the answer. He only stopped when it was time for the
mother to suck his penis.
__________________________________________________
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Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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