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Subject: {ASSM} Silent, Chapter Nine (finale)
Date: Wed, 3 May 2000 21:10:04 -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.
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 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."
End.
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