A Life of Submission Page 5

  She finally pulled back and led me for another crawl around the room, pausing, directing my tongue at dirty spots on the floor, or into small cracks near the wall. Each hesitation brought another blow, until I was sure my entire back was striped and I was exhausted both physically and emotionally. Yet as I crawled, my breasts swinging beneath me, my buttocks raised, and the air chill on my bare sex, I felt a strange kind of animal sexuality surrounding my mind. It was not strong enough yet to override the fear, shame, outrage and pain swirling through my mind, but it did give me a deal of self awareness about how exotically sexual my movements were.

  She reached down then and gripped my now bedraggled, tangled hair, taking a fistful and using it to pull me upwards.

  "Think on obedience," she ordered. "On the obedience a slave owes her mistress and master, and the need to please them."

  The door closed behind her and I was left alone once more. This was a great relief, of course, for I was simply drained, my mind numb, body sore all over. Yet standing there was hardly restful. An hour passed, then another. Or so I assumed from the passing of the moon overhead. I had no other way to measure time as my legs cramped and my body ached. I cried from time to time, angry and resentful, miserable and frightened, and wondering what new humiliations the horrible woman would inflict upon me when next she entered.

  I was an intelligent woman, on her way to becoming a solicitor, and this simply was not fair! That notion continued to twine its way through my thinking processes. I was an independent minded girl proud of my academic success, proud of my intelligence. To be treated like a wanton slut who was of value only for her naked flesh was counter to every scrap of dignity I had learned over the past many years.

  I wondered if any of my roommates had even noted my absence. I thought that surely someone would begin to look for me sometime, but could not imagine how they might find me here, when I did not even know myself where I had been taken.

  Could it be true, as the woman claimed, that I was destined to remain a prisoner for a long time to come? That I was to be a sexual slave to cruel and perverse people? Such a thing was almost unimaginable, and difficult to reconcile, yet a small but growing part of me was beginning to realize that this was indeed my likely fate.

  Chapter Three

  The door opened and light flooded the room. I felt relief warring with alarm as my head rose and turned to the door. Then embarrassment flooded through me as my squinting eyes saw the man closing the door behind him and coming towards me. It was not the one who had kidnapped me, but the other whom I had seen on arrival. And my hands jerked feebly against the leather bindings as I instinctively sought to cover my nudity.

  Like the other man he was in his thirties, perhaps his late thirties, old enough to be my father. He had short brown hair and a set look to him, as though he were about to begin a job and was determined to do it properly.

  "Slave," he said, stopping before me and inspecting my body.

  I said nothing, dropping my eyes in humiliation.

  "When your master enters the room you should greet him," he said.

  I had barely heard him speak earlier, and now discerned from his accent that he was an American.

  I raised my chin anxiously and saw his scowl.

  "H-hello, master," I said, voice quavering, further humiliated by the words.

  "Better."

  Yes, they were all surely insane.

  His hands made free with my body for a few moments, caressing and fondling me, plucking at my nipples and squeezing my breasts. He seemed to take pleasure in my discomfort, frequently caressing my shoulders or sides or hips, only to quickly slide his hands between my legs or over my breasts, causing me to flinch in instinctive protest. He pinched my small nipples until they ached, pulling them and stretching them out so that even my breasts were distended.

  Then he moved behind me and I turned my head aside, warily following him as he moved to a small cupboard and rummaged about there. He returned with what I first took to be a small sack in one hand. As he brought it closer I saw it was dark leather, and then, a dark leather hood.

  Without speaking he placed the hood atop my head, then pulled it downwards. It was tight against my skin, and I gasped as it ground across my nose, then pulled down over my mouth and chin. There were no eye holes with which to see, though my mouth seemed free enough. I felt the material pull in beneath my jaw, then around my throat, where his fingers worked for a moment before I heard a small click, as if a lock had been closed.

  "What are you doing!?"

  "Slaves are told only what their masters want them to know."

  For a long moment I was alone in silence, then strong fingers pressed in against the sides of my jaw as something was pushed against my mouth. I moaned, my mouth opening, and felt something resembling the ball gag forced in. This one was not so wide, but longer, and I coughed instinctively as it threatened to enter my throat. The strap was much thicker and wider, and I could feel it completely covering the flesh around my mouth, so that, I thought, not an inch of my face might now be visible.

  I next felt his hands behind me, on my hips. He slapped my bottom sharply.

  "Spread your legs."

  I obeyed, blinking my eyes beneath the dark hood and breathing more heavily as fear and anxiety began to rise higher within me. I felt his hands at my bottom, then his finger pressing insistently against my anal opening. This shocked me, and my legs came together, my body half twisting as I tried to dislodge him. Another sharp blow against my sore bottom halted my resistance, and I spread my legs once more.

  My mind continued to squirm however, for I was appalled at what he was doing. It was another way in which these people demonstrated their perversity, and I simply could not understand it.

  His finger pushed inside me, riding a slippery substance of some sort as it wriggled deeper and deeper. Blinded, I imagined I could sense its movements even more closely, and all my attention focussed on it.

  And then I felt something else, something before me, at my groin. Again my legs tried to twist, but strong hands held them in place, and I quickly recognized the feel of a mouth against my sex. New embarrassment flooded me, along with frustration. What did they want of me!?

  Why were they doing this?! It wasn't fair!

  The finger in my bottom pushed in to the knuckle, then began to slowly rotate. Meanwhile the soft tongue lapping at my sex was riding higher along my slit and approaching my clitoris. I followed its movements with a desperate anticipation, frightened of the thought of my body betraying me once more, yet feeling a dark eagerness to experience again that delicious immersion in sensual pleasure.

  I felt hands I thought must be the woman's squeezing my buttocks even as the face pushed in harder against my groin. At the same time the finger pulled out of my bottom and strong hands slipped around me from behind to fondle my breasts.

  They were using me as a slut, just as she had warned, and so the shock was less than it otherwise might have been. But I felt resentment nonetheless, along with a myriad of other emotions. My body, however, felt only the pleasure rising up from my groin as that delicious tongue lapped up against my clitoris and began to set it thrumming with wicked, quivering excitement.

  I wanted to cry out to them, to demand they stop, but of course, even could I speak such a plea would have been pointless. They had already made it clear that my wishes were of no importance to them, that I was to be a slave for their enjoyment.

  I recalled my nineteenth birthday party, and the low-cut dress I had worn then. Late in the evening I had been in the garden with Dennis Pierce, and he had caught me from behind, chewing on the nape of my neck as his hands came around me. I had known, of course, that it was wrong, but I could find little strength to push him off as his hands slipped up and down my bare sides, then, shocking me, eased in beneath the sides of my gown to cup my bare breasts.

  My hands had gone to my breasts at once, only find his hands within the cups of my dress. And the shocking lust
which had swelled within my chest had prevented me from doing more than standing still and moaning as his fingers had deftly squeezed and kneaded my flesh, and his lips had chewed and sucked at the nape of my neck.

  I could feel his groin pressed against my bottom, could feel his erection as he ground himself into me, and knew that I was rapidly losing control of myself. But my breasts were on fire and my groin was so hot, so voraciously needful that my hips were grinding, my left knee bent, foot up as I rubbed my thighs together. The sensations passing through my nipples were so intense they almost hurt and then -.

  I was brought back to the present as I felt a pressure at my bottom. It was his erection. I could feel it laying between the cheeks of my buttocks, long and thick and quite warm to the touch against my chilled flesh. Then it slid downwards and pushed against my anal opening, and I moaned and trembled as I began to realize his intent. I tried to squirm away once more, twisting my hips to one side, straining at the bonds holding my wrists up and back. I felt his hands slide down from my breasts, then grip my thighs and force them apart and back. Another pair of hands joined them and I was held in place, begging hopelessly into the gag, demanding they release me.

  Yet it was hopeless. I could feel the warm head forcing a path deeper and higher inside me, now halting, easing back, now pushing forward once again, thrusting aside my tight flesh, forcing my anus wide before it. My insides soon ached with the pressure inside me, and my legs continued to strain against their hold. My hips bucked and jerked feebly, and my back arched as I sought to pull myself forward and away from him.

  They held me easily in place as more and more of his thick erection was forced upwards into my body. I could feel cramps deep within my abdomen now as the head of his organ pushed up against I knew not what. And still he thrust forward in short, hard little strokes, grinding his pelvis in a slow, circular motion.

  The woman began licking and sucking at my clitoris once more, and shortly afterwards I felt the man's pubic hair against the soft underside of my buttocks. The cramps grew worse, but my cries were ignored as he was determined to force the last of his cock into my body. I felt like a rag doll being torn apart by a pair of eager dogs, and my struggles eased as I resigned myself to my fate.

  I was horrified at the feel of him inside my anus, at the knowledge that his cock was actually up inside my body. I wanted to scream at them. "Get it out! Get it out!"

  His hands continued to grip my inner thighs, forcing my legs open, but even could I close them I knew it would not dislodge him. I felt impaled, and each time he ground his pelvis against my backside I could feel his cock twisting around inside me like something alive, like a snake.

  His hands returned to my breasts, and for long minutes it seemed we remained like that, the woman licking softly at my sex, the man grinding his pelvis against my buttocks as he kneaded my breasts. The sense of revulsion began to fade, and in truth, once that and the cramps were gone, he really did not feel at all bad there inside me. In fact, it was a mildly pleasant sensation, and made me wonder what it would feel like to have a man's organ inside my vagina.

  As if he could sense my thoughts he drew back, and I could feel his cock fighting the squeezing walls of my rectum as it slid down. Then he pushed up again, grinding his pelvis into me before once again withdrawing. He began to pump in slow, even movements, using short strokes.

  More of my attention had been diverted to my pussy now, as that insistent tongue licked and twisted and caressed me all along my sex, and now I felt myself pierced by her fingers, slipping in and out in rhythmic motion which melded with the pumping of the cock in my rectum. I felt the flickering sexual tension within my lower belly rising once more, spreading through my body. I felt a surge of guilt and self hated at this, but I did not truly wish to turn it aside. I was tired, and too badly abused, at least in my mind, and any source of pleasure was a sought after diversion.

  And so I raptly followed the movement of her mouth against me, and made no further attempt to close my legs. And the intrusive thrusting of the man's cock into my nether hole grew slowly more powerful in counterpoint to her more gentle lapping mouth. Yet as it grew it held its own feel of seductive carnal pleasure. I was a virgin, of course, and had never felt such a thrusting within me, only imagined it. Now I was being fucked, and I use the word with deliberation. I had used it before, of course, for it was in common use, but as his speed and tempo picked up I began to appreciate it the more. Making love was a sharing of movement and purpose, but we were not making love. I was being fucked. And no doubt it would feel similar when they eventually took my virginity from me.

  The jarring of his hips against my body send shudders through my groin, and seemed to add weight to the gentle stroking and licking of my clitoris. I felt the sexual tension building up within me, building to the point it never had during all my bouts of masturbation, to the point I only rarely experienced, and then only at the hands of others. My chest was tight, my belly fluttering, and my body trembling lightly with the intensity of the sensations flowing through my nervous system.

  Whore!

  Yes, I was a whore, or so I told myself, for only a whore would give herself to such lewd and disgusting practices willingly. Of course, I was not there willingly, and the bonds around my wrists proved it. Yet at the same time I could not lie to myself about my own body's response, nor pretend I did not welcome the pleasure, did not fling wide my arms to welcome it with wanton abandon.

  I grunted softly into the gag now, as his strokes were becoming deeper and more violent. He was thrusting almost straight up into my body, and I rose onto the balls of my feet, and even to my toes as he drove himself up with greater strength. I could feel the long length of his organ now each time it slid out of my body, almost all leaving me entirely, and each time it paused before thrusting forward once more I felt a desperate eagerness and anticipation. Then I would groan aloud as I felt the long length slicing back up into my body, wishing it that sensation of penetration would last forever.

  Of course, it could not, and soon came the harsh impact of his pelvis against my buttocks as he sheathed the last of himself within me, and I would grunt with the force of the blow, rising to the balls of my feet.

  Again and again, faster and faster, but never too fast, never so fast I could not savour the long, deep sliding penetration. And soon I began to feel a strange kind of dark, sensual fulfilment each time I knew the entirety of his cock was inside me. It was a strange mixture of masochistic pleasure and sluttish erotic satisfaction to imagine how deep inside me he was, to think about the long length jammed high inside my belly.

  My nipples ached against the palms of his hands now, and I was finding it difficult to breath through the small nose holes of my hood as my breath grew ragged and sharp. I was no longer chilled, but warm, my skin beginning to sweat as the sexual pressure continued unabated.

  The woman was avoiding my clitoris now, her tongue dancing along my inner libs, coasting up and down my furrow, pumping lightly against my vaginal opening, and tauntingly circling my clitoris. Yet she avoided direct contact, and I was held in helpless thrall, gripped by the full power of my body's wanton sexual desires, but without being able to reach the climax I so desperately sought.

  And throughout came that harsh, strong, thrusting up into my anus, a thrusting that had my body quivering and shaking even as his lips and tongue and teeth began to move along my shoulder and his hands pinched and plucked at my aching nipples.

  I had never experienced such a high degree of sexual need for such a length of time. I was growing exhausted and breathless, my legs turning rubbery and my insides going numb.

  And then the woman began to stroke her tongue directly across my clitoris. At the same time the man withdrew himself completely from my anus. I moaned helplessly into the gag, a maelstrom of sensations twisting inside me. I felt the pleasure rise higher still, and knew its limit had almost been reached. I however on the edge of a powerful orgasms.

  I felt th
e head of the man's cock against my anus, again, and then he entered me, and the penetration was like an explosion within my mind and body. I came with a power I had never imagined, the pleasure exploding within my body. I could not breath, nor think, nor move. I hung there, quivering violently as my insides howled with the most powerful climax of my life.

  The man raping me thrust himself up hard and fast, my body bucking and jerking from the force of his strokes even as the woman held my thighs wide and licked hungrily across my throbbing, swollen clitoris. I felt myself spiralling upwards into realms of pleasure I had never before experienced, and exultantly clung to the ecstasy as it flowed over, through and around me.

  I was so wicked, and terrible! Yet it was too wonderful to not grasp with every fibre of my being. I came and came and came, until I thought that I would surely pass out from lack of oxygen - and did not care.

  * * * * *

  After my orgasm faded the two left me. I felt a gloom and guilt and shame at my own behaviour, and a sense of disgust at the realization the man had spent himself in my anus. And then I simply felt exhaustion and discomfort as more and more time passed without event.

  I stood there, sometimes raising one leg or the other to bent them and ease their stiffness, shifting my weight from one leg to another, and trying to twist my lower torso from side to side. Yet for the most part I must remain in position, and exhaustion took its toll, as did thirst, and also hunger.

  I thought several times that they might simply leave me as I was to die, and oddly, recalled their tales of selling me with thanks, for the implication that I was not to be killed.

  Several times I lost consciousness, only to be yanked back to wakefulness as my legs collapsed or my body swayed too far forward and all my weight came down upon my arms and wrists.