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Reply-To: "NormDePloom" <SeeMySig@InMessage.com>
From: "NormDePloom" <SeeMySig@InMessage.com>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Thu, 19 Jun 2003 04:04:08 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} "The Witness" part 04 {Norm DePloom}(MF+,nc and cons, anal, oral)
Date: Thu, 19 Jun 2003 07:10:05 -0400
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Caveat lector.
(MF+,nc and con,anal,oral)
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 four of a continuing story of non-
consensual sexual slavery.)

By
Norm DePloom

Standing up I pulled the slave over to me and, with
the front of her naked body up against mine, I reached
around and refastened the wrist cuffs to each other
behind her back.  I couldn't believe the effect this
young Asian fuck slave had on me.  My cock had been
hard almost constantly since I watched the Hmong gang
members dump her bound body into the trunk of my car.
I had cum three times since I got her home, and during
that time I never got more than half soft before the
sight of my bitch, or the thought of what I would do
to her hardened me up again.

Now here I was, I had just come so hard that I had
trouble standing up for a couple of minutes afterward,
and now the feel of her hot, bruised, sweaty skin on
mine; the smell of her just fucked cunt; the feel of
her makeshift nipple rings pressing against my chest,
all conspired to start my cock hardening again.

I knew when I made the deal that I was taking a risk.
As far back as I could remember my sex fantasies had
involved using and abusing Asian girls in every way I
could imagine.  Whether I was fucking some slut's
cunt, or jerking off, inside my head I was always
raping and torturing Asian women.  I have,
occasionally, given thought to what may be at the base
of this fascination with Asian girls.  When I was a
very young child we lived on an Indian reservation.
My father was there as a representative of the Bureau
of Indian Affairs.  My mom and dad hired a young
Indian woman to be a live-in housekeeper and nanny.
Even as a four and five year old I used to get a baby
boner when that sultry Indian bitch was around.  In my
memory she looked very 'Asian'.

I knew I was risking the reality of having an Asian
sex slave not living up to my fantasy.  So far, as
witnessed by my perpetually hard cock, the reality had
surpassed the fantasy by several orders of magnitude,
I still wasn't finished teaching my fuck slave her
place in the world.  Grabbing her collar again I
pulled her back over to the bookshelf.  Ignoring the
young bitch's struggles I pulled her tits back up onto
the shelf and hooked her make shift paperclip nipple
rings over the two bloody nails.  The over-sized
paperclip rings added enough length that the slave did
not have to stand on her tip toes, but still stretched
her freshly pierced nipples enough to keep her from
moving.

"Can I trust you to wait patiently until I return?"  I
asked sarcastically.  I left my fuck slave hooked to
the bookshelf and rounded up some more chain and some
small padlocks.  I returned to find her quietly crying
as she stood up against the shelf.

"Down on your hands and knees," I ordered after
unhooking her nipples from the nails and releasing her
wrist cuffs from each other.  "You must learn once and
for all," I said as I locked her collar on her neck
and her ankle cuffs onto her ankles with the padlocks,
"that you are a fuck slave, and nothing else.  You
will never, for the rest of your life be anything but
a fuck slave.  The only thing that may change in your
future is who owns you and whose cock is fucking your
otherwise useless holes."  I locked one end of the
chain to the front of her collar, and the other to the
center of her hobble chain, with the little that was
left over to drag behind her as she crawled.  The
chain was short enough to keep her from standing up,
her only choice would be to crawl on her hands and
knees.

"Until you learn this lesson," I informed her as I
attached another length of chain to her collar as a
leash, "you will have to stay on your hands and knees
like a bitch dog."

"Follow me," I ordered as I yanked on the chain leash.
With chains rattling, and dragging on the wood floor,
I walked my fuck slave back into the front room where
I had left the bowel of water.

"Drink," I told her, "drink like a bitch dog drinks."
With sobs and sniffles my slave lowered her face to
the bowel and lapped at the water.  As I watched my
slave lap water from the bowel, her ass high in the
air presenting her cunt and ass for my inspection, I
was again overwhelmed with the obsession to fuck her.
It seemed that every time I slipped my hard cock into
one of her wet holes it increased instead of
decreasing my desire to do it again.  I had never had
such a perpetual erection since my teen-age days.
Even before she finished drinking I got down on my
knees behind her and pushed the tip of my cockhead
against her tight, inviting asshole.  The slave
groaned as my cock stretched her open a second time.
She was still wet and slippery from her first ass
fuck, and my dick slipped easily into her.  I fucked
without the anger that had motivated me in the
kitchen.  I fucked just for the pleasure of feeling my
cock moving in her ass.  I fucked just for the
sensation of her tight sphincter muscle moving up and
down my cock shaft.  I fucked just for the joy of
exercising my prerogative as a slave owner.

By this time I had totally drained my reserve of cum,
and once again experienced a dry orgasm.  This time,
though, it was a much more gentle orgasm, satisfying
in an entirely different way than the orgasm I had at
the end of my anger induced punishment fuck in the
kitchen.  Surprisingly the slave seemed to be more
relaxed and calmed by this fuck.  As soon as I started
pumping my cock in her ass, she had moved the water
bowel to the side and laid her cheek down on the wood
floor.  She seemed, at least for the moment, to be
accepting her role as a fuck slave.

After I pulled my over-used cock from her ass, I took
the slave's chain and walked her over to the doorway
where her first ass rape had occurred.  I re-hooked
her wrist cuffs behind her back, then hooked the tail
end of the chain that ran from the front of her collar
to her hobble chain, to her wrist cuffs behind her
back.  My slave was now effectively hog-tied.  I used
my last padlock to attach her leash chain to one of
the eyebolts in the floor.  Leaving her secured to the
living room, I went to my bedroom and dressed.  I felt
I needed to get out of the house for a couple of hours
before I killed myself obsessively fucking the slave.
Besides, I needed something better than paperclips to
put through the nail holes I'd made in her nipples.
To demonstrate how much I needed to get out of the
house for a while, my almost worn-out cock started
getting hard again just thinking about driving those
nails through the slave's nipples.

By the time I got back to the front room, my slave was
sound asleep on the floor.  I didn't bother to gag her
since no one lived close enough to my house to hear
her if she screamed.  I set a video camera on the
stereo, focused it on the slave and left it recording,
just to see what she would do while I was gone.

I made a conscious effort to not think about the fuck
slave chained to the floor in my living room while I
was out.  I stopped by a espresso shop/bookstore where
I was known and bull shited with the other regulars
while I drank my usual, a sixteen once, two hundred
degree quad mocha with no whip.

"I always leave my whip at home," I explained to the
new girl when she questioned me about my drink.  She
blushed very nicely.  That is one reason I like the
young ones; they can still blush.  After an hour of
relaxing in the espresso shop I drove to a small
boutique I'd heard about.  They specialized in body
piercing jewelry.

It was a very small shop, the only window was in the
door.  A brass bell danced and rang as I came in.
There was a young couple, standing with their arms
around each other discussing whether they could afford
gold barbells for her nipples.

When the Asian lady behind the counter smiled at me, I
felt a surge of lust like an electric currant through
my body.  The woman locked eyes with me briefly then,
with a slight blush, turned her attention back to the
couple.  The store clerk looked to be Cambodian,
whereas the slave chained up in my house was Hmong.
Same part of the world, different people.  If you
think all Asian women look alike, you're just not
paying enough attention.

The Hmongs lived it the mountainous area on the border
of Vietnam and Cambodia.  Before the American's
arrived for the killing, raping and pillaging known as
the Vietnam war, the Hmong were the southeast Asian
equivalent of our hillbillies.  Even down to the
multi-generational feuds.  The defense had attempted
to discredit my slave's testimony by showing that her
family or clan, the Vangs, were involved in a feud
with the clan the shooters were from, the Yangs.  The
feud dated back before their immigration to the US at
the end of our involvement in Vietnam.  While, I'm
sure, no one remembered the reason, this feud
explained why the Yangs were more than happy to turn
the Vang slut over to a white man to be raped and
abused for his pleasure.

I looked at the titanium studs, barbells, and rings
while keeping an eye on the young Asian lady.  She was
well aware of my watching her and, when are gazes
occasionally locked, would blush and look away again.
Her nipples grew progressively harder under her
sweater as we played our little game of meaningful
looks.  When she, finally, rang up the least expensive
nipple barbells for the young couple, we both watched
the couple leave before she spoke to me.

"What can I do for you?"  She stepped over to where I
was standing.

"I pierced my slave's nipples today," I told her, "and
I need something to put in her holes."  The woman's
nostrils flared slightly, and her eyes widened just a
bit.

"Most people buy the jewelry, then do the piercing.
How did you pierce her nipples?"

"The silly little cunt was misbehaving," I told the
clerk with a smile as I leaned over the counter
towards her, "so I nailed her tits to a shelf."

"Ooooo," the clerk said, grasping her breasts
protectively.  Deciding to take a risk, I stepped over
to the door and, after turning the sign around so the
'Out to Lunch' message would show, turned the deadbolt
and pulled down the blind.

"Show me what you have in your nipples," I said as I
walked back over to where the clerk was still holding
on to her breasts.  She hesitated for only a moment,
then lifted her sweater.  The clerk's breasts were
slightly larger than my slaves.  Just large enough
that the bottom of her cone shaped breasts curved with
a barely noticeable sag.  As I stepped back up to the
counter I reached out with both hands and gently moved
her gold barbells back and forth so I could get a
better look at them.  Her nipples hardened in my
fingers.

"I like a responsive woman," I said with a smile as I
squeezed her nipples with gentle milking motions.

"You have no idea," the clerk's response was
interrupted by a sigh and a moan, "how responsive I
am." I could see that she had five piercing on each
ear, a diamond on the side of her nose, a small ring
in her left eyebrow, and I saw flashes of gold on the
center of her tongue when she talked.  Releasing her
crinkled nipples I grasped her sweater on each side
and lifted up.  The clerk raised her arms and allowed
me to remove it.

"Do you do piercings?"  I asked as I let her sweater
drop to the floor behind her while still holding onto
her wrists above her head.  I brought my hands slowly
down her smooth-skinned arms then back to her small,
firm breasts.

"The store does not do any piercing, but I do some on
the side."  Her breathing was becoming more shallow
and faster.  I was still reaching across the display
case to touch the clerk, so I placed a hand on her
waist and gently moved her down to the end.

"If I wanted to get additional piercings on my slave,"
I asked as I lifted the petite Asian women up and sat
her on the end of the case, "would you be willing to
come to my house and do it?"

"Yes," she answered, making no attempt to hide her
growing excitement, "and I'd be willing to pierce your
slave too."  She finished with a smile as she began to
move her hands up and down my arms.

"And," I continued as I brushed some of the clerk's
hair from her face, "if during one of these piercing
sessions you became convinced that my relationship
with the slave wasn't exactly consensual?"

"If," the clerk responded as her hands roamed over my
back, under my shirt, "she had consented, then she
wouldn't truly be a slave, would she?"  I brought my
mouth to hers and pushed my tongue between her lips.
The invader was welcomed and caressed by the clerk's
tongue.

"If, in some unguarded moment," I continued, letting
my mouth slip from hers, and speaking between kissed
as I moved down her jaw to her neck, "the slave begs
you to help her, or to call the police?"

"Who am I to interfere with the workings of your, or
her, karma?"  The clerk spread her legs and moved
nearer the edge of the case so more of our bodies
touched.  "I have no idea what karmic debt has
destined you to be her owner in this life, or what in
her past lives has destined her to be your slave now.
Why should I risk incurring the karmic burden that
might fall on me if I were to deprive her of the
opportunity to learn whatever lesson she needs to
learn from this life?"

"I think my karma has destined me to fuck you today."
I said as I held her body tightly.

"I have no doubt," she replied, "that my karma has
destined me to be fucked by you today."

"Where else are you pierced?"

"I have a..."

"Show me," I said, as I pushed her back to a reclining
position on the counter where she supported herself on
her elbows and watched as I lifted, and separated her
legs.  She was not wearing any underwear under her
short skirt, my kind of slut to be sure.

"You are a remarkable woman."

"Thank you," she said with a slight blush, "but in
what way do you consider me remarkable?"

"I just got my slave this morning," I told her as I
examined the barbell through her clitoris and the
three small rings through her left labia, "a young
Hmong bitch."   I noticed a tightening of the clerk's
body when I mentioned that my slave was Hmong, and
wondered if she was suddenly sympathetic for another
Southeast Asian.  "Having a slave turned me on so much
I've already fucked her four times," I continued as
the clerk began to relax again.  "One of the reasons
for this shopping trip was to get a little rest before
I wore myself out."  As I talked I spread the clerk
open and gently pushed a finger inside, she wasn't as
wet as my slave gets, but she was wet enough.  "In
spite of all that fucking," I told her as I lowered my
head to her waiting crotch, "I started getting hard
again as soon as I saw you."  I finished then began to
gently flick my tongue back and forth over her pierced
clitoris as I moved my finger in and out of her wet
cunt.

"Hmongs," the clerk spat vehemently as she reached
down with both hands and stroked my hair, "are
animals.  Whatever you do to the silly slut, I'm sure
she deserves."  For several minutes I tongued her in
silence, except for her moans of pleasure.

"Is it true," I asked looking up at the clerks face as
I paused to admire her beautiful pink pussy, "that
women who have their clits pierced are constantly on
the verge of orgasm?"

"Why," she asked with a smile, "do you think I'm
risking my job to let a man, whose name I don't even
know, fuck me?"

"Because your a slut?" I asked playfully as I resumed
licking and sucking on her decorated clitoris.

"That too," she said with a sigh as she laid her head
back on the counter and began moving her hips, fucking
her wet cunt against my face.  After the clerk's
second orgasm I helped her down from the display case.

"You know," I said, as I held her in my arms, "I've
never had my cock in a mouth that had a gold ball on
the tongue."  With her hands on my chest the clerk
slowly sank to her knees then, leaving her hands on my
chest, she began to unbuckle my belt with her teeth.
She had obviously done this before, and my trousers
were quickly sliding down my legs as she sucked my
miraculously hard cock into her hot wet mouth.

"Oh, yes," I hissed as she expertly stimulated my dick
with her ball studded tongue.  As she moved her lips
and tongue over my dick I ran my hands down her arms
then through her straight black hair.  The site of an
Asian woman on her knees with my cock in her mouth has
always seemed so natural to me.  There is something
that is just so right about having my needs serviced
by an Asian slut. Holding her head in my hands I
pushed my  hard cock deep into her throat.  She took
it all without gagging, she obviously knew her way
around a hard dick.

No matter how wonderful it felt, I wanted more than
just her mouth.  Slipping my hands under her arms I
pulled the clerk to her feet then turned her around.
Spreading her legs, she held onto the edge of the
display case and leaned over.  Flipping her short
skirt up out of the way, I grasped the base of my cock
with one hand and, with the other on her hip, I rubbed
my cockhead up and down her slippery cunt folds.  The
sensation caused by the the three small rings in her
labia were quit interesting.

"Since you feel that way about Hmongs," I asked as I
pushed my cock into her tight slick pussy, "I guess
you wouldn't be interested in doing piercings for me?"

"Oh, I'll pierce the slut for you," the clerk said,
looking back over her shoulder and arching her back to
make herself more available, "I'll pierce the little
twat with my dullest needle."  The clerk pushed
against the display case, forcing her pierced cunt
further onto my hard cock.

"Have you considered branding?"  The clerk asked,
after we had settled into a mutually satisfying fuck
tempo.

"Branding, tattooing, scarring, I've thought about all
of it.  I want to express my ownership of that slave's
body in every way possible."  I was enjoying the act
of fucking this young Asian cunt, and having another
orgasm was not that important.  I continued to fuck
until she had cum twice more, then I pulled my cock
from her body and let her stand up while I pulled up
my trousers.

"Now let's do some business," I said as I picked up
the clerk's sweater and handed it to her.


-- 
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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