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Message-ID: <42943asstr$1055581807@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
Reply-To: "NormDePloom" <SeeMySig@InMessage.com>
From: "NormDePloom" <SeeMySig@InMessage.com>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Sat, 14 Jun 2003 02:26:16 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} {ASSD} "The Witness" part 03 (Mf,nc,slavery,piercing)
Date: Sat, 14 Jun 2003 05:10:07 -0400
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Caveat lector.
(Mf, nc, slavery, piercing)
If you don't like sex stories, don't read it.
If you don't like stories about sex with underage
children, don't read it.
If you don't like stories bout forced sex, don't read
it.
If you are below the arbitrary age set for your area,
don't read it.
If for any reason it is illegal for you to read this
story, don't read it.

Find my stories here-
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/normdeploom/

Copyright (C) 2003 Norm DePloom.  ALL Rights Reserved
This story may not be reproduced in any form for
profit without the written permission of the author.
This story may be freely distributed with this notice
attached.  The author may be contacted at 'MyStories
at normdeploom dot com'

All the characters and events in this story are
fictional; any resemblance to real people or events is
entirely coincidental.

The Witness
(Being part three of a continuing story of non-
consensual sexual slavery.)

By
Norm DePloom

Exhausted from terror, pain, and fucking, Lynn fell
asleep, almost as soon as my softening cock slipped
from her lips, curled up on the floor at my feet.
Leaving her laying on the floor, I put the Starbucks
"Forty Licks" Rolling Stones CD on my stereo and
watched her sleep.  The sexually provocative slut I'd
seen mounting the witness stand now looked more like a
little girl as she slept on my floor.  Her small
breasts, her tight fanny, her flat belly, her matted
hair clinging to the drying sweat on her whip-marked
skin all with the face of an innocent little Asian
angel, sent the blood rushing back into my cock.  I
couldn't believe that I was getting another erection
this quickly.

"Under My Thumb" came on the stereo and I wondered, as
I continued to watch my slave sleep, how many people
actually listened to the words of that song?  The song
concerns the responsibilities taken on when another
person becomes submissive to you.  Listening to Mick
sing I, for the first time, really realized how much
I'd taken on by becoming a slave owner.  It made no
difference that she was an unwilling slave; the
responsibilities were still there.  Sure, I could whip
her, or fuck her whenever I wanted.  I could brand
her, scar her, pierce her or tattoo her as I pleased.
I could invite my friends over to fuck and abuse her
for their enjoyment, but all this cost a price.  I had
to feed her; I had to see to her physical well being;
get her medical attention, if needed; and clothe her
if I took her out.  Putting all that aside for the
time being I watched as Lynn, still asleep, rolled
onto her back and let her legs open.  Her delicate
looking slit and the tops of her thighs were still
glistening with drying cunt secretions.  I'd never
known a woman who produced such a large quantity of
pussy juice.  I could still smell it.  Not that I
minded, I love the smell of cunt, especially one
that's been fucked a few times.  I also love the taste
of cunt, especially cunt that's been fucked
repeatedly.  I was looking forward to eating that
young pussy lying on the floor just as much as I was
to fucking it.  After getting up and retrieving the
nylon collar that I had purchased to match the wrist
and ankle cuffs, I sat back down and woke my fuck
slave with a nudge from my foot.

"Wake up bitch," I ordered.  Lynn, her hands still
fastened behind her back, struggled up onto her knees.

"Come over here," I commanded indicating a place on
the floor right in front of me.  Lynn walked on her
knees over to where I was sitting.

"Fuck slaves," I explained as I buckled the collar
around her neck, "need to have a collar to remind them
that they are property.  Property of a man, to be
fucked and abused for his pleasure and amusement."
Lynn stared at the floor in front of her.

"Why..." she started to ask.  I slapped her, hard,
hard enough to send her sprawling across the floor.

"Get up," I yelled, "I didn't give you permission to
lay down, or to speak." I reached over and helped her
back to her knees with a handful of her long black
hair.

"Fuck slaves," I told her once she was kneeling in
front of me again, "Don't speak unless they are told
to.  Fuck slaves don't do anything but fuck, unless
their owner tells them otherwise."  Grabbing another
handful of her hair, I pulled her forward until her
face was only an inch from my hard cock.

"This," I said grasping the base of my cock with my
other hand and rubbing my cockhead over her face, "is
your master, your god.  The only reason you're alive
is to make this dick hard then provide a place for it
to dump its cum.  This is your god, and all you are is
a collection of holes for this cock to fuck.  Now," I
continued as I rubbed the head of my cock back and
forth over her lips, "tell me what you think of your
Lord and Master."  Lynn sobbed, tears flowed from her
eyes down over her bruised face.

"I," Lynn croaked, her voice seemed to be on the verge
of disappearing entirely, "I love my Lord and Master,"
she finished in a horse whisper.  I pushed her head
away and let her sit back on her heels.

"Stay here," I ordered, as I stood up and walked into
the kitchen to get a bowl of water to set on the floor
for her to lap from.  When I stepped back into my
living room, with the bowl of water in my hand, I
found Lynn standing with her back to the sliding glass
door, trying to unlatch it with her hands, which were
still fastened behind her back.  I heard the click of
the door just as Lynn's eyes widened with terror when
she saw me step back into the room.  Sliding the door
open, Lynn turned to run out of the house screaming
for someone to help her.

Lynn's dash to freedom was interrupted by the chain
running between her ankle cuffs.  Her loud plea for
help was silenced by her face first dive off the step
onto the flagstone patio.  I set the bowl down on the
floor then went out into the backyard to retrieve my
fuck toy.  After helping her to her feet with a
handful of hair I pushed her through the door, back
into the house, where she collapsed into a sobbing
heap on the floor.  I was rapidly discovering that
long hair on a slave came in quit handy.  I looked
down at the silly bitch.  Blood was flowing from her
nose, her upper lip was split and beginning to swell
and she had several other scratches on her face.
Added to the bruises left on her body by her
kidnappers and the welts from her whippings they made
the slut look, to me, very fuckable.

"How dare you damage my property?"  I asked as I
squatted beside her and moved her head from side to
side so I could assess the damage done to her face.

"Well?"  I asked giving her a hard slap on her naked
butt with my open hand, before I stood back up and
looked down on the sorry mess she had made of her
face.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed, scooting over and trying to
wrap her arms around my legs, "please don't hurt me."
Lynn began to kiss the top of my feet with her
swollen, bruised and obviously tender lips.

"Oh, I haven't even started hurting you yet." I told
her as I kicked her mouth away from my feet.  "You
haven't earned the right to put your lips on my feet,
bitch."

I was faced with a quandary, how should I punish the
slave?  Attempting to run away; trying to call for
help; moving in any way at all, when I had told her to
remain still; and damaging her body, which was my
property; all deserved the harshest punishment.  But I
did not want to lock her in the armoire.  I had a hard
cock that needed attention.  I bent over, inserted my
fingers between the collar and the slave's neck and
pulled upward.  The slave scrambled to her feet,
trying to relieve the pressure on her windpipe.
Twisting the collar to tighten it on her neck I drug
the slut into my kitchen.  Still holding on to her
collar I pushed some cookbooks off a bookshelf then
pushed her face-first against it.

"Do you understand what 'don't move' means?"  I waited
a moment then slapped the slave upside the back of her
head.  "Do you?"

"Yes."  She sobbed.

"Then do it."  I turned and stepped across the room to
my junk drawer.  After rummaging around for a couple
of minutes I returned and, stepping up behind my
slave, pinned her body against the bookshelf then set
a hammer and two long thin finishing nails down on the
shelf in front of her.

"Oh god," she cried, trying to push away from the
shelf, "oh god, please no."

"Up on your toes," I ordered, reaching around and
pulling her firm young breasts up unto the shelf, "up
on your toes just as far as you can."

"Please, oh god, please, no."  She continued to beg as
she lifted herself up on her toes.  I grasped her
right breast with my left hand and stretched it just
as far as I could across the shelf.  Picking up one of
the nails I held the point against the top of her
extended nipple.  Holding the nipple and the nail with
one hand, I enjoyed the trembling of her naked body
against mine as I picked up the hammer and, with one
sharp blow, drove the nail through her nipple and into
the wood shelf.  I was rewarded with a loud cry of
pain, and some very intense, sob wracked, begging for
me to stop.  I repeated the process on her other
breast.

"Now, bitch, you'd better stay up on your toes.  If
you loose your balance and rip your nipples off I'll
keep you locked in the armoire for a week."   I
adjusted my stance so my hard cock rested against her
hands.  "You seem to be real good at doing things with
your hands behind your back.  Show me how much talent
you have, give ma a hand job."  Reaching around her
body, I pushed two fingers into her crotch and began
to rub her clitoris and cunt.  "Come on slave, start
stroking your Lord and Master."  With her eyes
squeezed shut and with snot and tears running down her
face, the slave began to stroke my hard cock with both
of her hands.  Soft whimpers came from deep inside her
as each movement of her hands caused her nipples to
pull against the nails that held them to the
bookshelf.  Just like earlier, when I was raping her
ass after her first whipping, my new slave began to
produce copious amounts of lubrication almost with the
first stroke of her cunt, she had all the makings of a
great fuck machine.

"If you ever do anything like that again," I whispered
in my slaves ear as I grasped and squeezed her
clitoris with my thumb and forefinger, "I'll nail this
clitoris to a board and leave you there until you rip
it off."  I squeezed her clitoris with greater and
greater pressure as I talked, only easing off after
she cried out in pain.  I could tell by the way her
legs, and her whole lower body, were jerking and
trembling, that she would not be able to stay up on
her toes much longer.  Wrapping my arms around her
waist, I lifted her straight up.  She yelped with pain
and held tightly to my cock with both hands as the
small rounded heads on the finishing nails pulled
through her nipples.  I pulled my cock from her hands,
then turned her around and leaned her back against the
same shelf she had just been nailed to.

"Stay," I said, like I was talking to a pet dog.  I
stepped across the room and dug around in the junk
drawer until I found two large paper clips.  After
moving back over and standing in front of my slave, I
watched the growing concern in her eyes as she watched
me straighten out the paper clips.

"I was planning on getting you pierced anyway," I
explained as I pulled her left nipple away from her
body and pushed the straightened paper clip through
the hole left by the nail, "your nipples will just be
pierced up and down instead of side to side."  The
slave caught her breath, and bit her lower lip as I
pushed the second paper clip through her other nipple.
I bent each of the paperclips into a rough
approximation of a circle and gave the ends of each a
couple of twisted to hold them in place.  "These will
keep the holes open until I decide on studs or rings."
After securing my temporary nipple rings, I pulled on
them several times so I could watch her wince.

"OK, fuck toy," I said when I tired of that little
game, "it's time to fuck that cunt you, claim, has
never been fucked before."  My slave dropped her gaze
and blushed in a way that made me suspicious. I turned
her around and unfastened the hook that held her wrist
cuffs together.

"Get up on the kitchen table," I ordered, pointing at
the table.  She walked over and pulled her butt up to
sit on the table.

"Lay back," I instructed, "grab the chain and see if
you can put it behind your head."  She proved to be
very limber.  I stepped over to where she was laying
with her ankles beside her ears, and the chain that
connected them under her neck.  Her arms were wrapped
around her calves.  She looked like she was hanging
onto her legs to keep them from being stolen.  I ran
my hands gently up and down the backs of her thighs
and over her very wet pussy.  Without warning I lifted
my arm and brought my open hand down slapping her
pussy hard.

"Now tell me the truth, slut, who has fucked this
cunt."  The slave broke down and sobbed pitifully as I
held the base of my cock and rubbed my cock head up
and down the wet lips of her pussy.

"My, my uncle," she said between sobs.

"So you played the whore for your uncle," I said as I
slowly pushed my eager hard cock into her hot and very
wet cunt.

"I didn't want to," she sobbed.

"Of course not," I replied as I fucked my hard cock in
and out of her with long slow strokes, "that's what
you whores always say.  How old were you the first
time you spread your legs and begged your uncle to
fuck you?"

"Twelve," she answered with a sob.  Tears streamed
from my slave's eyes as she recalled what must have
been a very traumatic event.

"So," I said as I playfully slapped her nail-pierced
nipples in time with my fucking, "not only are you a
degenerate whore who started fucking her uncle when
she was twelve, your a lying degenerate whore."  I
leaned forward, grabbed the chain on each side of her
neck, and slammed my cock in and out of my slave's
cunt with all the force I could.  By this time she had
produced so much pussy lubricant that we made slurpy
slapping sounds against each other each time I would
pound my hard dick into her body.

I was pissed, and I wanted to hurt the lying bitch
with my cock.  I know, it wasn't rational, I had not
expected to get a virgin when I made the deal, but
when she had claimed to be a virgin earlier I had
gotten excited about being the first one to fuck her
cunt.  It was like buying what you thought was a new
car, then discovering it had been a rental.  I let go
of the chain and grabbed a handful of her hair on each
side of her head and fucked her cunt so hard I thought
the table legs might break off.

Her eyes were squeezed shut, her mouth hung open and
emitted a loud 'humph' every time I slammed my cock
into her pussy, tears were streaming down from her
eyes, further wetting her already damp and stringy
sweat soaked hair.

"What are you?"  I yelled, punctuating my words with
body shaking fuck strokes.  She didn't answer, so I
picked her head up from the table with my hands full
of hair and slammed the back of her head back down on
the hard wood surface.

"What are you?"  I yelled a second time as I drove my
cock into her with all of my strength.

"Slave," she sobbed.

"What kind of slave?"  I demanded as I continued
trying to punish her with my cock.

"Fuck...slave."  She managed between the 'umphs'
caused by having the air pumped out of her by my body
slam fucking.  I let go of her hair and, grabbing both
of her breasts, squeezed and twisted her freshly
pierced nipples while I held my cock deep insider he
cunt.  I came while enjoying the body spasms created
by her pain.  I had no jizz left to dump into her, but
I had one of the most intense dry orgasms of my life.
As the overwhelming feelings subsided, I released her
abused breasts and pulled my softening cock from her
dripping cunt.

"Get off the table," I ordered as I took a step back
and half fell into one of the kitchen chairs.  I wish
I'd had my video camera to record the comedy act my
slave put on trying to get off the table.  She moved
this way and that several times while looking around
the kitchen with a confused look on her face.  This
continued as she tried to figure out why she couldn't
unfold her body.  Finally, she remembered that her
hobble chain was running behind her neck.  Once she
freed the chain she was able to straighten her legs
and slip off the table onto the floor.   Her legs
started to give out when she put her weight on them,
and she had to hold onto the edge of the table to keep
from falling.  Like I said, quit the comedy act.


-- 
Norm DePloom
Send email to: MyStories at normdeploom dot com
Read my stories at: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/normdeploom/
Campus Crusade for Cthulhu
Carpe noctem.
;-})>

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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