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Subject: {ASSM} "The Witness" Part 05 {Norm DePloom} (Mf,nc)
Date: Mon,  7 Jul 2003 18:10:04 -0400
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Caveat lector.
(MF, nc)
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 five of a continuing story of non-
consensual sexual slavery.)

By
Norm DePloom

After having my cock in her mouth and her cunt, I
finally asked the clerk what her name was.  She told
me her name was Jasmine, although I got the
impression that it was not the name given to her by
her parents.  At Jasmine's suggestion I purchased
two fairly thick titanium barbells to go into the
nail holes I'd already put in the slave's nipples,
and two smaller titanium rings to go into two more
traditional piercings at the base of her nipple
where it attached to the areola.

"You know," Jasmine told me, as I was picking up my
small plastic bag getting ready to leave, "you
wouldn't necessarily have to pay me with money to
pierce your slave."

"How would you like to be paid?"  Jasmine moved
closer and, even though there was no one else in the
store, spoke in a secretive whisper.

"I would really love the opportunity to watch while
your Hmong whore was gangbanged."  I put my arm
around Jasmine's waist as we walked toward the door.
"A whole room full of men taking turns fucking her
hard."  Jasmine expanded on her request.  I was
aware that neither the Vietnamese nor the Cambodians
thought very highly of the Hmong, but Jasmine seemed
to have a personal score to settle.

"I certainly would not object to having my slave be
the main entertainment at a marathon gangbang," I
said as we arrived at the door.  "I'm sure we'd all
love to see you fuck the little bitch with a giant
strap on also."  Jasmine blushed a deep red as I
opened the door and left the store.  I drove home
with visions of Jasmine, as a little girl, being
gang raped by a large group of Hmong ruffians, that
being my guess as to the source of her animosity
towards the Hmong people in general.  If letting a
room full of men take turns fucking the slave would
help Jasmine deal with her bad memories, I was more
than happy to help.  Hey, that's just the kind of
guy I am.  As I got closer to home my thoughts
turned to the slave I'd left chained to the floor,
and what the videotape might reveal.  When I walked
into the room, I thought the cunt was trying just a
little too hard to look innocent.

"What did you do while I was gone?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing, I swear, I haven't done anything while you
were gone."  I smiled down at my slave.  Now I could
add lying to me as one of her punishable offenses if
the video revealed anything interesting.  I dropped
my bag of piercing goodies on the table then
unlocked the leash chain from the eyebolt in the
floor.  I pulled the slave up to her knees, after a
couple of adjustments to the chains I stepped back
and looked her over.  The chain from the front of
her collar ran down through her crotch, resting
firmly against her clitoris and pussy lips, down to
the hobble chain then up to her wrists.  I had
shortened the length of chain between the hobble
chain and her wrists to keep her from leaning
forward, and adjusted the chain between the hobble
chain and her collar to keep her from leaning
backward.

"Walk on your knees," I ordered, picking up the
leash chain.  The slave took short hesitant steps
forward.  As she moved each knee the chain running
through her crotch would drag side to side as well
as forward and backward over her clitoris and cunt.
I 'walked' the slave over to the couch, and
positioned her just to the side of where I planned
to sit. Leaving her there I stepped over to the
entertainment center and, after stopping and
rewinding the video camera, plugged it into the
television and pressed the 'play' button, then
walked back over to the couch.

I picked up the rod, which had been left there
earlier in the day when I whipped her into frenzy
while she sucked on my cock, and sat down.  I saw
myself on the television walking away from the
camera and out of the room.  I tapped the end of the
rod against my shoe, just to make sure the slave
kept its ability to cause her pain in mind while we
watched the video.  Very shortly after I left the
room the slave, apparently asleep with her back to
the camera, lifted her head and looked around.

"Hello?  Is anyone here?"  As soon as she was
satisfied that she was alone, the slave twisted her
body around and pulled at the chain holding her to
the floor.  When that did no good, she tried to pull
her wrists from the wrist cuffs.  I noticed that the
slave was leaning forward, hanging her head and
crying as we watched the video.

"Up straight," I ordered giving her a quick snap
with the rod.  As she straightened up, the slave
looked over at me with a combination of fear and
apology.

"Watch the video," I ordered.  On the screen, the
slave had given up trying to pull her hands free and
began screaming for help.  When the slave was worn
out from screaming for help, she noticed the bowel
of water on the floor and 'inch-wormed' toward the
water.  She was brought up short with her mouth must
a couple of inches from the water.  No matter how
much the slave struggled, she could not reach the
bowel for a drink.  When she tired of that, the
slave lay on the floor and sobbed.

As we watched the slave went through several cycles
of struggling, screaming and sobbing, with an
occasional attempt to get to the water bowel.  This
continued until I re-entered the picture.  We
continued to watch as I, on the screen, adjusted the
slave's chains, moved her over to her present
position then walked over and stopped the video
camera.  When it was finished I got up and stopped
the playback, then started it recording again.

"What did you learn from this?"  I asked the slave
as I sat down on the couch again and looked at our
live images on the TV

"What," I asked louder and more emphatically as I
brought the rod down forcefully on the slave's upper
arms, "did you learn from this?"

"That I can't escape."  The slave answered with a
week voice.

"And?"

"That no one hears me when I scream."

"Both are good lessons," I said as I stood up and
grasped the slave's leash, "but you still fail to
really grasp your position in the Universe."  I
pulled on her chain to get her moving, then walked
in front of her as she followed on her knees.  I
took the slave into the bathroom where, after
loosening her chains, I allowed her to sit on the
toilet and relieve herself.

What happened next was not done for my sexual
pleasure; I don't get the kick out of this that some
people seem to.  I made the slave kneel in the
bath/shower, then I pulled my cock out and urinated
on her.  After shaking the last drops from my dick
and zipping it back inside my trousers I left the
urine coated slave kneeling in the tub while I went
about fixing myself some food to eat.  I hoped an
hour or so with my piss drying in her hair and on
her skin would help convince her of the reality of
her position as a slave.

When I returned to the bathroom the slave looked
like a poor, lost, wet dog.  Her long dirty hair had
dried in clumps across her face and down her
shoulders.  I got the handheld showerhead and hosed
the slave down with cold water, then unhooked her
wrists and handed her a bar of soap.  I watched as
she lathered her body, including her hair, then
hosed her down again with cold water.  I repeated
the process three times before I was satisfied that
the slave was clean.  I pulled the shivering slave
from the tub, and put her down on her hands and
knees again.  I dried the slave just enough to keep
her from dripping on the floor then walked her on
her hands and knees back to the living room where I
had her kneel in front of me and watch, again, the
video tape of her futile attempts to escape while I
applied a motion sickness patch behind each of her
ears before I combed and braided her long hair.

The combing and braiding of the slave's hair was not
an act of affection, but rather a utilitarian
decision.  The braiding would make it easier to keep
the hair out of my way, and would make a nice rope
to restrain her when necessary.  The active
ingredient of the patches is scopolamine.  I got the
idea when I read an article describing the various
nefarious uses the drug was put to in South America,
where it is abundantly available.

According to this article people who were given
sufficient quantities of scopolamine become very
compliant.  The victims have been known to accompany
thieves to their banks, empty their accounts and
give the money to the thief.  The drug also causes
amnesia, which is convenient for the thief.  The
article also told of a prostitution ring that would
kidnap women, keep them on scopolamine for several
days while they worked the victims as prostitutes,
then dump them in a city park where they would 'come
to' with no memory of how they got there or what
they had done.  So if you suddenly find yourself
somewhere with no memory of where you are, or what
you've been doing, don't blame little green men from
space, just check your body for signs that you have
been fucked by a whole shitload of men.

I had no desire to keep the slave permanently doped
on scopolamine, but the patches would be effective
for three days and, if I could regulate the dose
correctly, it would make it much easier to take her
places, like a party, and make her do things, like
fuck everyone in sight.  I also thought it might be
interesting to give her scopolamine, pierce, brand
or tattoo her then be their when she 'wakes up' with
no idea where the piercing, brand or tattoo came
from.

"Turn around and face me," I told the slave after I
finished with her hair.  After she turned around I
examined the paperclips that were still in the nail
holes I'd put in her nipples.  The holes were
further back on the breast than most piercings are
done, and ran up and down instead of side to side.
The slave winced in pain as I untwisted the ends of
each paper clip and pulled them out.  Once the holes
were empty I pored alcohol onto each wound and
carefully manipulated each of the slaves breasts to
insure that the disinfectant worked all the way
through the hole.  Scopolamine is not a pain killer
so, even if there had been enough time for it to be
effective, it would not have stopped the slave from
wincing, sucking air, and doing all the other things
you would expect a person in pain to do.  That is
one of the interesting things about scopolamine, the
slave could still hurt, and react to pain but, if
there was enough of the drug in her system, she
would have no memory of it a few minutes later.

The barbells I had purchased for the slaves nail
holes were a bit thicker than the nails which made
the holes, so I had to use some force to push them
through her nipples.  Jasmine had suggested the
extra thickness, and the use of progressively
thicker appliances in these holes to open them up
and make them more useful in the future.  The holes
were far enough back in the areolas that they could,
in the future, be able to withstand considerable
pulling without ripping.  After the barbells were
placed in the vertical nail holes, I pulled out two
small, delicate rings intended to go in more
traditional horizontal piercings right where the
slave's nipples joined the areola.  Each ring had a
small silver bell attached to it.  So whether the
slave was crawling, walking upright, dancing, or
being fucked it would be accompanied by the delicate
dinging of her small silver nipple bells.  Following
the directions Jasmine had given me I pierced each
of the slave's nipples a second time and inserted
the rings.  When I was done I sat back and looked at
my kneeling slave.  She was looking down, shifting
her gaze back and forth from one breast to the
other, appearing to not be really sure what was
happening to her.

I pulled the slave close to me and kissed its mouth,
pushing my tongue between her lips while I pushed my
hand between its legs and my finger into its cunt.
I found the cunt already wet, the thick sticky fluid
already coating the slave's inner thighs.  It had
been a couple of hours since I'd fucked Jasmine and
my cock was hardening with renewed vigor.

"Stand up," I ordered pulling my mouth away from the
slave's, and unhooking the chain from the slave's
collar.  After she had struggled to its feet I
unhooked all of the chains except the hobble chain
connected to its ankles and let the slave walk into
the bedroom.  I reconnected one end of the hobble
chain to the foot of the bed, leaving the other end
connected to the slaves left ankle.  With the slave
lying on my bed naked, I removed my clothes and
stroked my hard cock while it watched.  When I
approached the head of the bed on the side occupied
by the slave, it rolled on its side and, lifting its
head, willingly took my cock into its mouth.
Placing my hand on the back of the slave's neck, I
thrust my hips forward and pushed my cock past its
gag point and into its throat.  The slave kneaded my
thigh while I fucked my hard cock deeply in and out
of its mouth for several minutes before I pulled out
and, moving around to the other side of the bed, lay
down next to the slave.

Lying with my belly up against the slave's back, I
lifted its leg and pushed my cock into its wet cunt.
While I fucked with long, slow strokes I wrapped my
arms around the slave and stroked its breasts with
one hand while I stroked and pinched its clitoris
with the other.  The slave rocked its hips in
counterpoint to my thrusts, forcing itself back onto
my cock with each of my inward strokes.  The slave's
moans changed from pleasure to pain and back again
depending on how hard I pinched its clitoris while I
fucked its cunt.  I fucked for twenty or thirty
minutes, came, then fell asleep with my cock still
buried in the slave.






-- 
Norm DePloom

"If it were done when 'tis done,
then 'twere well It were done quickly"-
Macbeth

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