Bondage-the subduing and binding of females for sexual pleasure or pain-is an international phenomenon.
Cherry Blossom bondage is the bondage of luscious Oriental beauties.
But the nubile Oriental captives in these three hard-hitting stories suffer much, much more than mere bondage.
SUKI is the Japanese bride of a masterful American. He locks his lovely lady into a chastity belt. But the device does not prevent a cruel rapist from taking her in the mouth and in her hot, tight ass.
LI is the dominant daughter of a lord of Chinatown. With whips and ropes, she trains her slaves for sexual submission. Her father is delighted by her gift to him of her loveliest and best-trained slave!
DEBORAH is a Chinese-American tourist kidnapped in Hong Kong. Nipple piercing and ass branding are only the beginning of the torments she suffers at the hands of an evil warlord and his beautiful but sadistic mistress!
* * *
GEISHA SLAVE GIRL
CHAPTER ONE
I had not lived in the United States of America for very long before I was sexually assaulted.
My name is Suki Shimada Caldwell. Suki Shimada was my maiden name. Caldwell is the name of my husband, Dane.
I am twenty-four years old. Although we Japanese are taught to be modest, I must admit in all candor that I am very attractive.
I stand about five and a half feet tall. I am slight and slender, willowy.
My hair is jet black, darker than coal. It is very thick and full and shimmering. I wear it cut short, with bangs. It frames my face like a helmet of hair.
My face is thin and delicately formed. I have high cheekbones and fine features.
My eyes are what you Occidentals would call almond-shaped. They are a rich, dark chestnut brown in color.
My nose is flat, with wide nostrils. My lips are very wide and full. Men find my lips quite sensual, and love to kiss them.
Indeed, many men had kissed them, before my marriage.
My body is quite good. My breasts are high and firm. They are perhaps not so big as those of some of your native American beauties.
On the other hand, no man has ever complained about their size.
My breasts are pear-shaped. They are pert and sharply pointed, with large nipples.
My torso is long and lean. My back is elegantly curved. My tummy is flat, and my waist is very narrow and lean.
My hips widen out. They are full and, I have been told, most alluring.
My bottom is one of my best features. My behind is heart-shaped and dimpled, with a pair of high, smooth, and rounded buttocks.
My thighs are smooth, my calves shapely. Alas, my feet are rather too large to please me. In Japan, the foot is an important part of a woman's beauty.
As for the rest of me-well, you shall find out all my innermost secrets.
My husband and master, Dane Caldwell, has commanded me to write this narrative, for the amusement of other masters, and the instruction of their slaves.
As always, I do exactly what my master commands.
I shall begin with the sexual assault which I suffered.
I live with my husband in a suburb outside a large city. Your American cities are very frightening to someone like me.
We Japanese are very orderly and well behaved. In my country, there is hardly any violent crime at all, and the cities, though crowded, are safe.
It is not the same in your country-as I learned to my sorrow.
It was a weekday. It was hot, so I wore a thin, lightweight summer dress.
I was running an errand for my husband. I had to drop off some important papers in an office in an old, run-down building.
The office was near the top floor. I could feel the men in the office undressing me with their eyes as I brought the papers to the man in charge.
The eyes of the men were hot as they stared at me.
My thin dress was white and sheer. It was decorated with red and blue floral designs. It covered me from my shoulders to my knees.
I wore no bra. My breasts are small and firm, so there is no need for me to wear a support garment.
Perhaps I should have worn a bra for modesty's sake. After all, my large nipples could be seen outlined against the front of the dress.
But I had other things on my mind. I never wear a bra in my suburban community, and I had neglected to put one on this day.
My dress was unbuttoned, since it was very hot and humid. The dress was open so that the softly swelling tops of my breasts could be seen.
I was perspiring. Beads of sweat, thin and fine, covered my face like mist. It plastered down strands of my hair.
There were dark circles of wetness beneath my arms. But, despite the heat, I wore a rather heavy slip beneath my dress, for reasons you soon will learn.
I gave the papers to the appropriate gentleman, and took my leave of the office.
At the end of the hall was a young man. He was in his early twenties.
He was very strong. He wore a tight shirt which displayed the muscles of his wide shirt, and his ridged abdomen.
His arms were thick, strong. His waist was narrow. He wore a pair of skin-tight denim jeans, faded and frayed, that hugged his lower body.
Those pants were very tight indeed. They revealed his bulging groin, which looked thick and heavy. I quickly looked away.
He had long black hair and a hard, cruel face-he looked like a young hoodlum.
He stared openly at me, which I thought was insolent of him.
I returned his stare, hoping that it would shame him into looking away. I felt uncomfortable with the manner in which he ogled me.
He did not look away. A sneering smile came over his face.
I looked away instead. I pressed the button which would bring the elevator to this floor. I desired to leave this building quickly.
At last the elevator arrived. The small car was empty. I stepped inside.
He followed me inside, too.
I moved to the rear of the car, and stared at a corner of the wall. I had pressed the button which would take me down to the lobby.
He pressed a button, too. It was for the floor directly below.
The doors slid shut, the car lurched and started downward. It descended one floor, stopped. The doors slid open.
The young man stepped out into the hall. I was glad to see him go.
He looked up and down the hall quickly, then he lunged for me.
I was totally taken by surprise. He stepped halfway into the elevator, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me roughly into the hall.
He was only a second or two ahead of the elevator. Even as he pulled me out of it, the doors shut and the car went downward.
I was more surprised than frightened-at first.
The young hoodlum leered. He was very strong and fast. He must have done this many, many times before.
Now, it was my turn to be his victim.
I gasped as his strong arms whirled me around. He pulled me to him.
I filled my lungs to cry out for help. Before I could scream, he clapped his hand over my mouth, covering it, muffling my shrieks.
I struggled, but he was too strong for me. His arms crushed the breath out of me. He stood behind me, holding me so I could not escape.
I could feel the hardness of his muscular body. I could smell the man-sweat of him. It was pungent and thick, and filled my nostrils.
I kicked and fought, but there was nothing I could do.
His groin pressed against my backside. As I tussled with him, my rounded bottom rubbed his groin. He started to rub up against me.
I could feel him getting hard as his penis pressed my bottom. He felt like he was very large and thick. This terrified me more.
Now I knew exactly what he wanted.
I tried to bite him. He was clever. He pushed his hard hand deep between my jaws, so deep that I could not close them to bite.
My shrieks were muffled as he half-carried, half-dragged me down the hall.
"We're gonna have us some fun, slant-eyes," he hissed in my ear.
He had chosen his spot well. Apparently the floor I was on was deserted, and all the offices which lined it were dingy and deserted.
My feet left the floor as he lifted me. I was in a blind panic.
He stopped when he came to the first open door. He pulled me into the room, then let go of me long enough to shut the door.
He threw me down on the floor. I cried out in fear and pain.
I readied myself to scream so loudly that everyone in the building would hear me. Alas, that scream was never completed.
He stood over me. With one fluid motion, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a spring knife, and pressed the button.
A long and sinister steel blade appeared in his hand.
As soon as I saw it, I abandoned my plans to scream. I knew that he would not hesitate to use it on me.
I looked around. The room was dark, shadowed. Grime and filth covered the windows so heavily that I could not see through them.
This room must have been used for storage. Many desks and chairs, all of them old and battered, filled the room. They were heaped high.
I lay on the filthy floor. My back was against the wall. My breasts rose and fell from heavy breathing. I shook and trembled.
He was fascinated by the knife. It glinted with a cold metallic sheen as he brandished it in front of me.
His cruel eyes were even colder than the steel blade in his hand.
I whispered, "Please-please do not kill me!"
"That's not how I get my kicks, slant-eyes," he leered. "You be a good little gook and do as you're told, and I won't have to cut you."
Leaning over, he gripped a fistful of my hair and pulled it, twisting it by the roots. I stifled my outcry. I was afraid to anger him.
He held his knife under my face. I felt sick to my stomach. My belly was twisted in knots. I wanted to vomit.
I fought a terrible urge to lose control of my bodily functions, and void my bowels. I made little fearful gasps.
He liked that. He liked my fear, my terror. I saw it in his eyes.
That was familiar to me from days past. I had known many men, Japanese and Caucasian, who took pleasure in the giving of pain to females.
My own husband, Dane Caldwell, was such a man.
But Dane was my master, and my body belonged only to him-and to those whom he told me to serve with all my naked flesh.
The young hoodlum pressed the flat part of the blade against my sweating face. Tears flooded my eyes as I felt the cold steel.
"You know what I want from you, cunt." It was a statement, not a question.
"Please-no!"
He took the knife aside, and slapped my face. It was a hard blow, one which stunned me. My head rocked from the impact.
My face was numb where he struck me. My lips were smashed, and a trickle of warm blood dribbled down my chin.
"Shut up," he said. "I'll tell you when to open that mouth, gook girl."
My face twisted with pain as he tugged upward on my hair. He forced me to stand.
My legs were weak, rubbery. My knees knocked together as my legs shook from fear.
He grabbed a fistful of the front of my dress, and slammed me back against the wall. "Let's see what you've got under that dress, slant-eyes!"
He used his knife to cut open my dress. He started at the hem, and sliced his way up, cutting my lovely dress in two down the middle.
I said nothing. I was too afraid.
He took hold of my dress in both hands. Cloth ripped as he shredded my dress, tearing it off me. I gasped as it came apart.
He pulled the last shreds of the dress of me. My breasts were bare. I still wore my slip. I crossed my hands over my chest.
My arms covered my nipples. But he did not like that. He slapped my hands away. I fought back the sobs which threatened to overpower me.
He smiled cruelly. My breasts jiggled and trembled.
My skin is a very dark shade of amber, rich, smooth, flawless. My nipples are dark brown, a deep brown which is almost black, with purple highlights.
My rosettes are the same dark shade of brown. They looked like neat round buttons pasted on the tips of my soft small breasts.
I thought he would attack me then, but he wanted to be certain that I was subdued, so I would not be able to resist him.
I trembled in anticipation when I thought of what would happen when he took off my slip and panties. I feared his anger, which could prove deadly.
As I describe the incident now, I am calm and collected. But when it happened to me, I was in a blind panic-almost mindless with fear.
There was only one thought in my mind-that I must keep this animal happy, that I must give him what he wanted from me.
That would be difficult-as you will soon see.
He used his knife to cut my dress into strips. His fingers, strong and cruel, bruised the flesh of my smooth shoulders as he spun me around.
My back was to him. He pushed me up against the wall. My breasts scraped against the wall, flattening out and spreading to the sides.
As I was pushed against the wall, my body knocked loose dozens of peeling paint chips, which fluttered to the floor like fat snowflakes.
He took hold of my arms and roughly brought them behind my back. My yellow face whitened with pain as he twisted my arms.
He crossed my wrists, and used some shredded strips of my dress to bind my hands together. He tied me tightly, so the bonds dug into the flesh.
When my hands were safely tied, he spun me around, facing him.
He wasn't through with me yet. He ordered me to open my mouth.
He stuffed a strip of cloth, wadded into a ball, inside my mouth, filling it. Then he jammed a second strip of cloth between my jaws.
It held the gag in my mouth, so I could not spit it out. He knotted the gag at the back of my head, tying it securely.
Now, I truly was his helpless captive, bound and gagged for his amusement.
I did not escape my attention that he had not bothered to tie my legs together.
I knew why he left them open and untied. This terrified me more than anything elsebut not for the reason which you might expect.
Now that he had me a prisoner in his power, he used me roughly-painfully.
"You've got a nice pair of tits, gook!" His hands were on my breasts, fouling them with his uncleanness. The smell of his sweat, the heat in the room, made me feel faint.
He liked to hurt. His hands squeezed my breasts so roughly that I thought that I might pass out. I moaned and cried through my gag.
Bitter tears, hot and scalding, blurred my eyes. His hot, leering face looked like a grotesque mask. He was a demon of lust.
His cruel fingers were like pincers as they took hold of my nipples.
I rose on tiptoe from the pain, as he stretched, pulled, and abused my poor nipples. He stretched and pulled them out of shape.
When finally he stopped pulling them, I sobbed hysterically. But the gag muffled my broken, desperate cries.
My nipples were swollen to twice their normal size, thanks to his abuse.
They ached terribly. But the pain was swept away by my fear.
Contemptuously he flicked my nipples, which were now stiffly erect. Shooting pains spread through my bosom, pains which I could feel down in my pussy.
"Let's see what the rest of you is like!" he snarled.
My slip was made of white nylon. It covered me from my hips to my knees. He tore it off my hips with one sudden, savage pull.
His eyes widened as he saw my panties, and what lay beneath them.
The panties were made of pink lace. They were bikini style, and very pretty. They were tight and quite low cut.
The panties could not hide the chastity belt which I wore.
The young hoodlum's eyes bulged in shock. His jaw dropped, and his mouth hung wide open. He could not have been more surprised it he had pulled down my panties and discovered a set of masculine testicles and a penis.
I assure you, reader, that I am one hundred per cent female-as you shall most certainly see for yourself as my narrative continues.
Angrily the hoodlum tore off my panties, ripping them away as he had done with my slip. I looked away in shame and fear.
My lord, master, and husband, Dane Caldwell, keeps me in the chastity belt.
He is a jealous master, and must control me at all hours of the day, even while he is away at work, and can not supervise me personally.
That is why he uses the chastity belt. Each day, before he leaves for the office, he locks me safely within the garment.
Only he has the key to the lock which holds it all together.
I, myself, do not mind the device. Although I would never, never be unfaithful to me man, I like the idea of the garment.
Japan is an old country with a new face, but the old days and old ways live on.
The Japanese female is the submissive slave of her man, and lives only for his pleasure. For a Japanese woman, to be locked into a chastity belt is quite different than it would be for an American girl.
I love to wear the belt, the visible, tangible sign of my husband's dominance over my body and soul. I am proud to wear it.
The belt is an unusual device. In this city, there is a private boutique which specializes in such devices.
My husband has bought many items there: whips, straps, gags, cuffs, manacles, dildos, chains, and other devices of punishment and restraint.
My chastity belt is made of thick black leather which is reinforced with thin metal stays. The hardened leather is nearly impossible to cut or break.
The belt has a front flap of black leather which covers my pussy.
There is a small slot in the center flap which permits me to urinate.
This slot is much too small, however, for any rigidly erect male member to fit through it, and so penetrate my sex.
A thick leather belt, part of the device, circles my waist. The leather of this belt is even thicker than that of the crotchpiece.
This particular model of the chastity belt is similar in size and shape to an athletic supporter-a jockstrap, you Americans call them.
There are two more thick leather straps attached to the crotchpiece. They are cuffs which circle the tops of my thighs.
Thus, while the belt covers my pussy in front, it leaves my bottom uncovered, except for the straps which run across the tops of my thighs, below my ass cheeks.
There is a tiny but tough padlock at the top of the leather belt, which secures the device in place and holds it all together.
The padlock is made from special alloy which is almost indestructable. It can not be picked open or broken. Even a hacksaw would take hours to cut through it.
Inside, the crotchpiece and the leather straps are padded with the smoothest padded red velvet. It as as smooth and sensual as the black leather is hard and forbidding. The velvet presses against the softest, most intimate part of my bottom.
Each time I make even the slightest move, the velvet caresses my soft labia, thrilling me beyond words. The longer I wear my belt, the more sexually aroused I become. Sometimes, by the end of the day, I orgasm from the sensual massage.
The straps, too, are all padded, to protect my soft smooth skin from chaffing.
The young hoodlum who menaced me did not appreciate the garment.
After he recovered from his surprise at this unexpected discovery, he laughed. His laughter was cruel.
He first tried to pull open the belt. He hooked his strong fingers under the belt, and tried to pry it up and away from me.
The straps were too thick for him to break. I suffered as he viciously pulled and twisted the chastity belt.
He caused the hard leather to chafe and irritate my upper thighs, my buttocks, and even my soft and quivering labia.
I wept continually as he struggled to free me of the belt, so that he might rape me to his heart's delight.
The stiff, tent-like bulge in his trousers, caused by his furious erection, testified to his urgency. Opening the belt had become a challenge to him.
Nothing worked. He tried to saw through the leather straps, but made no headway after ten minutes of sweating, frustrating work.
He tried to pick open the lock with the needle point of his knife. All that happened was that the tip of the blade snapped off.
He was sweating and cursing foul oaths. His rage frightened me.
Angrily he slammed me against the wall. His face and shirt were soaked with sweat from his futile efforts.
He tore the gag from my mouth, and pulled out the wadded ball of cloth which filled it. The gag was soaked through with my saliva.
He said, "Damn it, you cunt, what the hell is this fucking thing?!"
I stammeringly explained what it was.
"My husband is a most jealous and possessive man," I explained. "He locks me into the belt so no other man can have me."
"He's smart," the hoodlum sneered. "But I'll have you yet, slant-eyes! If you want to live, you'll give me the key!"
"I do not have it," I said cautiously. "My husband would not lock me in, and then give me the key which unlocks the belt."
Of course, I did not speak so rationally at the time. I was terrified, and it took me a while to say these things, since I was sobbing and frightened.
The hoodlum scratched his head in puzzlement. Clearly he had never run across such a problem in his career of rape.
An idea struck him. He grinned happily. The happiness of this animal could only mean pain and sorrow and degradation for me-this I knew.
"Yeah, maybe I can't get that belt off," he admitted, "but there's more than one way to skin a cat-or to fuck a gook!"
He put his hands on my naked shoulders and forced me to my knees.
He loomed over me, a cruel and evil man. My face was on a level with his groin.
His efforts to free me from the belt had not diminished his sexual arousal. If anything, it had only increased his lust for my body.
I could see his member, inside those tight jeans. His penis was long and thick and stood up straight. It looked like a piece of pipe, or a length of cable, jammed into the crotch of his jeans.
I soon had a chance to see his stiff member from a more direct view. He unbuckled his belt, opened his pants, and pulled out his stiffly erect penis.
His massive member bobbed only inches from my frightened face.
CHAPTER TWO
The hoodlum's stiffly erect penis was like a knobbed club of flesh.
He was very hairy. I found this rather ape-like, since most Japanese men have almost no hair on their bodies, except for their pubic patch and underarms.
His hips were lean. His member was most large. It must have been over seven inches from the tip to the base of the shaft.
It had a fat, wide, fleshy head. The shaft was long, thick, rigid.
Fat blue veins wound around the shaft, like strands of ivy circling the stout trunk of a tree. The veins were a deep blue, almost purple.
His efforts had left him highly stimulated. His penis burned a bright red color, like a smoldering fire. It made the purple-blue veins stand out by contrast.
The penis sprouted like a rod of flesh from his hips. Muscles flexed in his hairy thighs. His testicles were swollen in the sac.
As I said, he was heavily haired. His pubic patch was thick, a tangled forest of hair, a mass of jet black glossy hairs.
He was unwashed. He smelled of dried semen and sweat.
He gripped his stiff penis. It throbbed in his hand.
He held it the same way he had earlier held his knife-menacingly.
My hands hurt from being bound so tightly behind my back. It made my small breasts thrust out more than usual. They jiggled softly as I trembled.
He took a handful of my hair and gave me head a good shaking.
"I guess you know what I've got in store for you, you gook bitch."
I hung my head in shame. I knew all too well what he had in mind.
In the position he had put me in, on my knees with my face close to his genitals, there could be only one thing he would demand of me.
He said, "Your old man must've thought he was pretty clever, locking your pussy up inside that wild gadget-but it won't do him any good!"
I shuddered as he brutally caressed my cheeks and face.
"You got a real pretty face, slant-eyes. A pretty face, and a pretty mouth."
He chuckled. "I can't fuck your pussy, but I can do the next best thing-I can fuck you in your mouth!"
My breasts shook as I choked back a sob.
I looked up with terror, when I felt the point of his knife against me.
He held his blade in his right hand. Its point, while not as sharp as it had been before he tried to pick the padlock of the chastity belt with it, was still sharp and pointed enough to be deadly.
He jabbed my throat with the point, drawing a ruby red drop of blood.
He held the blade against my throat. "Call this an insurance policy, China doll. Just try and get cute with those teeth of yours, and you're dead!"
"I will not resist you, evil one," I sobbed.
"You're damned right you won't, bitch," he laughed. "You're gonna be real nice to me. You're gonna suck me off good and sweet!"
He laughed. "Just close your eyes and pretend it's your husband who's fucking your mouth, slant-eyes. Maybe that will make it easier for you. But, by God, you better make it good for me, or I'll put a world of hurt on you!"
He held his knife in his right hand. His left hand closed over his erection, gripping it directly beneath the red bullet-shaped head.
The swollen red cock head looked as wide as a mushroom cap, except that it was not pale white, but rather a hot and blazing shade of scarlet.
I blinked through my tears as my shoulders shook with soft sobs.
He said, "Gimme a big kiss on my cock, cunt! Love it up!"
He moved forward, rubbing his penis against my face. He guided it to my mouth.
Shivering with fear, sick to my stomach with revulsion, I puckered my wide lips and planted a glancing kiss on his penis head.
The flesh burned my lips, it was so hot.
He shook his head. "That ain't no good, gook. You gotta love me up like you mean it! Now, put some sincerity into it-or I'll have to do some cutting!"
I pushed my tear-stained face closer to him. I pressed my puckered lips once more against his member, and kissed it hotly.
My lips made wet smooching sounds as they planted the hot kiss on him.
His smile was a cruel and leering one. "Yeah ... that's more like it! You keep up the good work, doll, and you just might get out of this alive!"
He roughly rubbed the head of the penis against my lips.
"Open up, cunt. Your mouth is gonna do duty as your cunt for now, so open up!"
I hastily opened my mouth so wide that the corners of my lips stretched.
He stuffed the head of his cock inside my mouth.
His member was so hot that it seemed to scald my tongue, although perhaps that was a product of my frightened imagination.
My fear was very, very great. While I love this great land, even the most patriotic American must concede that there is an epidemic of violent crime.
I have read the newspapers, and watched the television news shows, and not a day goes by that there is not some brutal murder in this city.
Perhaps, if I pleased this animal, and satisfied his lusts, he would let me live.
His penis was so thick that it stretched my lips. He rubbed his cock head against the roof of my mouth. This excited him.
The smell of him, the stink, was heavy in my lungs.
His penis was a rigid rod of red flesh. I curled my wide lips over my teeth. The knife pressing my throat was a constant reminder of my danger.
He moved forward, forcing his member deep into me.
He shoved it all in at once, thrusting hard. The fleshy swollen penis head jabbed the soft tissues at the back of my throat.
I gagged and choked, unable to breath. The bonds on my wrists scored and grooved and tore my tender flesh as I struggled.
He pulled his penis back a little bit, so I could breathe.
His hairy thighs became tightly flexed, and his pale round buttocks were clenched, as he began to rock his hips back and forth.
Just as he had promised to do, he was fucking my mouth like it was a pussy.
He shoved in and out. When he pulled back, he withdrew his shaft until only the cock head remained inside my mouth.
He would hold it that way for a moment. Then he would lean into me, and drive his shaft back into my mouth, and down my throat.
In and out, back and forth, he shoved his penis into my hot wet mouth.
The worst fears of my family and friends back in Japan had come true. I had come to the USA only to be a victim of a savage criminal.
He was an animal, with an animal's lust. He grunted as he thrust back and forth, plunging his rigid flesh in and out of my mouth.
My cheeks hollowed as I sucked him. Yes, I voluntarily did what I could do, in order to please him-to gain favor with him, so he would spare me afterwards.
My puckered lips were curled over my teeth. His stiff penis glided over those lips, back and forth, thrusting with a sensual friction-sensual for him.
I sucked him wetly. He plowed his cock into my mouth so forcefully, that drops of spittle were flung from inside my mouth.
Saliva oozed out of the corners of my lips, as his erection pushed in and out. My chin was wet and shiny with the stuff.
Each time he pulled his penis from inside my mouth, it was stiffer, redder, and hotter than it had been on the previous stroke.
His swollen balls, hard and neat in the hairy, shrunken sac, slapped lightly against my face, each time he buried his cock in my throat.
He was very long and thick, and he fucked my mouth so he would hurt and choke me. He loved my pain, it made him stronger and harder.
His breath came faster and faster as he panted. His shirt was soaked with sweat. Droplets of sweat fell from his face, spattering on my naked torso.
I could tell that he soon would reach his orgasm.
I dreaded that.
"Listen good, you slant-eyed little yellow cunt," he hissed, "when I come, you better make sure that you swallow it all!"
He pricked my throat with the knife point, breaking the skin and drawing a drop of blood. But I did not dare to cry out in pain.
His hips moved faster now. My jaws and tongue were sore from the abuse they already had received.
But this oral ordeal would not be over until I had suffered the final indignity.
He plunged his stiff, thick penis deep down my throat before he came.
His member twitched wildly on my tongue. Then he came.
Semen jetted from the head of his cock. The stuff splashed against the soft tissues at the back of my throat.
It was thick, like honey, but not sweet. Some of it got on my tongue. It tasted salty and fishy-truly disgusting.
His face, all red and swollen, contorted as he came. His eyes were wide and staring, his mouth was open and moaning.
He looked like a crazy man.
His penis spit semen down my throat. I swallowed my pride, my revulsion, and his come. I gulped it down like a dose of foul medicine.
It slid down my gullet, a thick stream of semen. My cheeks were hollow as I sucked, milking the semen from his spasming member.
It seemed like an eternity, but it could not have been very long before the thick spurting stream of semen dwindled to a thin trickle.
He was gasping and groaning, breathless with the pleasure of his orgasm.
He kept his penis inside me for a long time after it stopped coming.
His member was still stiffly erect inside my mouth. He let out a great hissing breath and shuddered one last time.
His eyes were squeezed shut. When at last he opened them, they were glazed and dreamy. There was a slackness around his mouth.
He patted my head, mockingly, like a man rewarding his dog for performing a clever trick which had pleased him.
I could not look at him. I lowered my eyes. Tears filled them.
"That was real good, slant-eyes." His voice was hoarse and rasping. "You done real, real good. I liked that. Sure, you gooks know the score."
"Shit, your old man probably did me a favor, locking your pussy up tighter than a bank vault. You sure can suck good with that pretty mouth of yours."
He pulled his erect penis out of my mouth. My heart leapt with gladness and my spirits lifted, now that he was withdrawing from my mouth.
His hard red penis glided over my lips, smearing them with his semen and my saliva. He shivered as his sensitive member glided over the lips.
My mouth opened as he pulled his penis out of it. Strands of semen clung to my chin. The foul taste of him was bitter in my mouth.
My stomach heaved. I wanted to vomit, but did not dare do so.
I fought down my nausea, and kept myself from being sick, although I longed to retch.
He was as hard as he had been before sticking his thing in my mouth. Orgasming had not diminished the size of his swollen member by a fraction of an inch.
"Lick my balls, you yellow cunt!"
He yanked my hair, pulling my face to his genitals.
I parted my shimmering wet lips, and extended my long, pale pink tongue.
I fought to master my disgust as his swollen testicles rubbed my face. I performed the service which he had commanded me to do.
I pressed my tongue tip to the divide in the center of his sac, and licked it slowly and lingeringly. The balls rippled under my tongue.
His fat hard penis pressed against my face. As I licked him, his stiff, red erection throbbed as it lay on my sweating flesh.
It sickened me to think that only one floor above us were offices filled with men and women who were going about their daily routine.
They did not know-could not know-that in the room below their feet, an innocent female was the victimized toy of a brutal rapist.
I hoped, I prayed, that he was finished with me now. But the stiffness of his erection warned me that he was not done with me yet.
Soon he tired of my licking his genitals, and sought other, more amusing sport.
He pulled upward on my hair. Tears flooded my eyes from the pain of having my short black hair yanked by the roots.
"On your feet, cunt! The party ain't over yet!"
I rose. My hands were tied behind me, and I stood up from a kneeling position using only the strength in my legs.
When I was fully on my feet, I stood nearly a head shorter than my assailant. He marched me across the room, after warning me to keep silent.
He picked up what was left of my dress. He tore some more strips of cloth.
Again he gagged me. I knew my torments must continue.
He held a wadded up ball of cloth under my nose, I was afraid to open my mouth, but I was more afraid not to, so of course I obeyed him.
He gagged me the way he had done earlier, first stuffing the cloth ball in my mouth, filling it, then knotting a second strip of cloth between my jaws to hold the makeshift gag in place.
After he checked the gag to make sure that it was secure, He took hold of my nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
The gag muffled my squeals. He laughed loudly. He pulled the abused nipple so that it was fearfully distended and stretched out of shape.
The amber flesh of my bosom, the flesh surrounding my tortured nipple, changed to a pale white color. My breast ached fearfully.
He pulled my nipple, leading me across the room.
During the violence earlier, one of my shoes had fallen off my foot. The other shoe was still on. I walked across the room that way.
My rapist was muttering more to himself than to me.
"So that smart-ass husband of yours thinks he's so fucking wise, huh?! Well, gook, I guess I'll show him a thing or two-and show you, too!"
Still twisting my nipple so painfully that fresh tears poured from my eyes, he quickly marched me to a heaped pile of old desks.
The desks were dark and battered, and must have been stored here for years. Their sides were scarred, and dust covered them.
He pushed me to a wide desk, and bent me face down across it.
My feet were on the floor. He stood behind me, then moved to the side, so he could pull down on my nipple, forcing me to bend forward from the waist.
A terrible fear filled me-I knew what he would do next.
Clouds of dust rose up from the desk top as my upper body was pressed down on it. The dust rose into my nostrils, choking me, stinging my eyes.
My small breasts were pressed flat against the desk. The wood was rough, and small but vicious splinters stabbed, jabbed, and scratched my bosom.
He put his hand on the back of my neck and held me down tight.
I sobbed without restraint now. My shoulders shook with weeeping. My tears spattered on the dusty desk. Fear was my master now.
Off to one side was an old extension cord, long, thin, brown. The hoodlum took it, sliced it in two.
He knelt down on the floor behind me. He warned me not to get up, and he jabbed his knife into the fleshy cheek of my right buttock.
I was too terrified to move an inch from the spot. My mental and physical strength had run out. My legs were too weak to move.
His hands were rough as they parted my legs. He pushed my feet apart so that they were spread wider than shoulder width.
This opened my thighs to him-but the leather chastity belt protected my quivering pussy from violation.
My other shoe had fallen off. I was now bare foot. He used the two pieces of cord to bind my ankles to the legs of the desk.
He tied them tightly, so they dug into my flesh.
When he finished tying me, I was totally helpless. I was gagged, so I could not cry out. My hands were tied behind my back.
My feet were tied wide apart, so I couldn't close my legs.
"I ain't through with you yet, honey."
I twisted my head, turning it to the side so I could watch him over my shoulder. He moved behind me, so that he faced my bottom.
He had pulled up his pants so he could walk freely, but he had not bothered to fasten the zipper. I saw his stiff red member through the opening.
Now, he opened his pants, and pulled them down off his hips.
His stiff erection sprang up, once it was freed from the confines of the pants which now hung down around his ankles.
He put his hand on my bottom. He gripped my buttock tightly, so that my bottom flesh whitened beneath his strong, cruel fingers.
I squealed and squirmed as he roughly, viciously kneaded and pulled my buttocks.
Fear stabbed through me as he pulled my buttocks apart, prying them open and holding them spread to the sides.
The deep cleft of my bottom was exposed and so was my anus.
My anus is a small, wrinkled flower of brown flesh, a rosebud. My husband has enjoyed every part of me, but he has not taken me there too often.
The hoodlum leered and laughed at my helplessness. I gasped and writhed as he poked my tiny rosebud with his hard, cruel finger.
He held me down while he jammed his finger deep inside me. I was very tight there, and dry, and it pained me terribly.
The hoodlum sneered, "Hey! Looks like here's one part of you that your old man forgot to lock up tight, slant-eyes!"
He wiggled his finger inside me. I moaned as I thrashed my hips. The cords binding my ankles bit deeply into my tender flesh.
There was nothing I could do to resist this infamous assault.
"Yeah, this is fine with me, cunt! I'm a back door man myself, and there's nothing I like better than a hot tight piece of ass!"
He leaned into me. His hard and hot penis rubbed my soft bottom flesh.
He released my buttocks, letting them close. But I knew that he had not changed his mind. He would take me from behind-this I knew.
He lay his erection along the cleft of my bottom. He rocked his hips back and forth, rubbing his heated penis against my buttocks.
He pried open my bottom cheeks. My rosebud shrank in upon itself when it was exposed, as though it sought to escape the violation.
But of course there was no escape. He had made sure of that.
My rosebud was poked by his wide, fleshy penis head. My anal opening was tiny and tight-little larger than one of your American dimes.
I was too tight and dry inside my ass for even a brute like him to force his way in without providing some form of lubrication.
He held his hand to his mouth, and smeared saliva on his fingers.
He then smeared the saliva over my rosebud. He took more spit, thick and gooey, and rubbed it on the fleshy, wedge-shaped head of his penis.
He jammed his finger deep inside my rear.
He wriggled it around deep inside me, shoving it to this side and that, stretching me inside as he prepared me for penetration.
I did not even try to plead for mercy. The gag would have reduced my begging to muffled garblings, which I knew he would only ignore.
His penis glistened with saliva. The head dripped with the gooey stuff. He mockingly showed his member to me. I whimpered and looked away.
I squeezed my eyes shut as he guided his erection between my buttocks.
The tip of his penis pressed my anus. I sobbed.
He pushed forward. His member's head was a fat wedge of flesh, and he used it to pry open my rosebud, and so gain entrance to my rectum.
Slowly, as he leaned into me, the folds of my wrinkled brown anus were stretched and pushed apart. My anal ring was forced to expand.
It was very painful. I thrashed, but he held me down.
The head of his hard hot penis widened my rear entrance, pushing the anal ring out to the sides, forcing its way in.
With one final savage thrust, he jammed the head past the rosebud.
I jerked and thrashed. The gag silenced my shriek.
He was grunting and groaning. Even with my rosebud smeared with saliva, it still took a great deal of effort for him to rape my bottom.
But now his cock head was firmly planted in me, and no matter how much I shivered and sobbed, there would be no dislodging it.
Grunting, gasping, sweating, he pushed his erection into me.
His cock head had pried open the entrance, the gateway to my hot pit.
Now that he had forced the gate, he penetrated me with the rest of his shaft.
He leaned into me. My rectum gripped his member like a vise. Such tightness was sweet hot pleasure for him-agony for me.
Inch by inch, he fed his cock into my rectum. Sweat broke out on my face.
He entered me slowly, but not because he was gentle. I was so tight in my bottom, that slowly was the only way in which he could enter me.
His stiff erection cored me to the pit of my bottom. My rectum was forced to stretch in order to accommodate the phallic intruder.
My face was a mask of agony. Tears blinded my eyes. I knew that it would be a bit less painful for me if I could relax and loosen my inner muscles.
But who can concentrate on relaxation under such painful, frightening, and terrible circumstances? Surely not I.
Oh, he was an animal! He chuckled thickly as I thrashed and suffered.
It was all pleasure for him. He watched his red shaft sink into my rectum, vanishing from sight as it was swallowed up inside me.
I felt like I was being split straight down the middle.
Finally, mercifully, he could push his hard penis no further inside me. He had plumbed the depths of my rectal pit.
My husband, on those times that he turned me on my stomach, and forced me to give up my ass to his masterful erection, had complimented me on how hot, tight, and creamy I was inside my bottom-pure delight.
But he was a gentle lover, and had always been careful to take me easily and slowly in my bottom, so as not to damage the delicate membranes.
The hoodlum rapist suffered under no such restraint.
He used his penis as a weapon. He thrust hard into me, and delighted in my pain.
He raped me hard. He jammed his penis deep into my quivering rectum.
When he pulled back, he left only his cock head inside my rectal ring. He laughed as I squirmed and sobbed on the tip of his erection.
Then he would shove into me, burying his cock back inside.
It was a nightmarish ordeal. Bound and helpless as I was, all I could do was suffer.
But the worst was yet to come. The twitching of his throbbing member told me that his orgasm was close, very close. And so it was.
He shoved his member as deep into my raped rectum as it would go.
CHAPTER THREE
"You must be purified, Suki-purified and cleansed."
So said my lord, master, and husband, Dane Caldwell.
I knew that he was right. My master is always right.
It was some days after the attack. I was in a room of the suburban home where I dwell with my husband. It was night.
The room was an annex attached to the rear of the house. It was a small room, dominated by the wooden hot tub in the center of the floor.
I had mostly recovered from the vicious sexual assault.
It had been an ordeal, one which I would not soon forget.
After the rapist had come inside my bottom, filling me with his filthy seed, I lost what little control remained to me.
As his throbbing, spurting, shooting erection filled me, the semen gushing into my violated rectum, I lost control of my bladder.
It was an involuntary action. I lost control, and warm yellow urine flowed from my sex, splashing down my thighs.
This did not repulse or even anger my assailant. It amused him.
He was one of those who love to see women degraded. My wetting myself could only please such a man, since it humiliated and soiled me even more.
He chuckled as he pulled out of me. His stiff penis slid over my membranes. My raped anus was forced to stretch outward and expand once again, in order to release the fat and swollen head of his penis.
I lay there, my shoulders heaving with broken sobs, unable to move.
His penis was limp but thick. I saw him, since he moved in front of me.
He stood by my head. Semen oiled his penis. He used a handful of my hair to wipe his member clean. He used my hair like a dish rag.
When he was done, he tucked his penis inside his pants as he pulled them up.
He smirked at me. "That was real good, gook. You're a hell of a piece of ass!"
He patted my raped behind. "Just because you're so sweet in your asshole, I'm gonna let you live. Isn't that nice of me?"
"Besides," he added, "I want you to be able to tell that wise guy husband of yours that his fucking pussy protecting belt didn't stop me."
He went to the door, peered into the hall. Seeing no one, he said, "Adios, slant-eyes. If I ever see you again-I'll kill you."
He stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind him.
I lay stretched face down across the desk for a long time. I did not move. I feared that this was only a cruel game.
I was afraid that he would return and kill me. But, he had really gone.
Much time passed. When I was sure that he would not return, I struggled to free myself from the bonds which held me.
It took a great deal of effort, but at last I somehow managed to unknot the strips of cloth holding my hands together.
Once my hands were free, the rest was easy-although the throbbing pain inside my aching bottom made it hard for me to go on.
But we Japanese are a hard and stoic race, used to suffering.
I did not report the rape to the police.
Perhaps this was wrong, but I had my reasons. I knew that the chances of their catching the rapist were next to nothing.
All that would happen would be the furthering of my disgrace. My name and picture might even appear in the newspapers.
No, I would not subject myself and my husband to further indignities.
I cleaned myself up as best I could. I was a mess. I waited until the sun had set, and it was dark, so I could exit unobserved.
I got to a phone booth and called my husband and told him where I was. Not until I was safely inside his car, did I permit myself to collapse.
He took me to a doctor friend of his whose discretion could be relied on.
This medical man treated me for my injuries, and for shock, and additionally gave me some injections, to protect against infection.
My husband was outraged at what had happened. I was filled with joy that he did not abandon me. A Japanese male might have.
In Japan, for a woman to be raped is a great disgrace, a great loss of face, even though the female might be the innocent victim.
But my husband and master was sweet and tender to me. He took care of me and ministered to me, comforting me as I recovered.
The attack had been some days ago. We-my husband and I-had not had sex since my attack. I worried that he might not want me.
Finally, when I was all healed, he ordered me to come to him.
So, we were in the room of the hot tub.
My husband, Dane, is much older than myself.
He was a career military man. He had been stationed in Japan for a good part of his time of service, which is where he met me.
He had been an officer. He joined his country's army at a young age, and had put in close to twenty years before he met me.
I was working in a house of submissive women.
It was similar outwardly to an old-fashioned geisha house. We women wore the traditional costumes of old Japan-silken kimonos.
But the geishas of old were not whores. They were accomplished persons, who could sing, dance, play musical instruments, and many other things.
That was the old days. We in the house were prostitutes, who catered to dominant males. There are many such in my country-and in yours.
We would present ourselves for bondage, whippings, humiliation, and the use of every part of our persons to the men who rented us for the night.
It was at that house that I first met Dane. He had been taken there by some friends of his in the Japanese military establishment.
That first night I met him, I suffered under his lash. I was bound and gagged and stretched out naked, while he whipped my behind.
He returned again and again to the house. I was most flattered to be the favorite of such a man. He was so very good to me in bed.
One thing led to another. When his time of service was over, and he was ready to retire on his pension and return th the USA, he asked me to go with him-as his wife. Overjoyed, I of course accepted.
I was naked in the room of the hot tub. My body was still marked with bites and scratches and bruises which the beast had inflicted on me.
The tub was a wooden cask. It was rounded, and made of sturdy planks. My husband, American though he was, loved many things Japanese.
Steam vapors rose from the surface of the water in the tub. The steam condensed on the walls, and made the room hazy and foggy.
I looked at my husband. He was in his early forties, a most powerful and handsome man. His splendid physique was in top condition.
He, too, was nude. His hair was black with some gray streaks in it, and cut very close to the scalp. His face was square-shaped and hawk-like.
He had a blocky torso, lean hips, strong thighs, and a boyish bottom.
His penis was long, thick, and limp. His testicles were large and rounded, and dangled in the sac of flesh which held them.
I had requested the purification. It would remove the taint that the rapist had put into my flesh. I needed to suffer.
My husband loomed over me. He is over a head taller than I am. I love his size, his strength, and his masterful ways.
He held the whipping rod. It was natural wood, a fresh-cut switch from a tree, long and flexible and whippy.
He held it in both hands, so that it made a long horizontal line across his muscular thighs. My flesh tingled at the sight of it.
I humbly dropped to my knees. I pressed my forehead against the wet wooden floor as a sign and symbol of my submission to him.
His bare feet moved into the line of sight of my bowed head.
I lifted my forehead from the floor, so I could lovingly kiss his feet.
He stood there, holding the whipping rod, silently looking down at me.
I pressed my puckered lips against the tops of his feet, and covered them with kisses. I stuck out my tongue and licked his feet.
My saliva glistened on his toes. I thrust my tongue into the spaces between his toes. Also, I took his big toe into my mouth and sucked it.
After I had rendered homage to my master's feet, he held the whipping rod in front of my face for me to kiss.
The wood was fresh and green. It had a pleasant outdoors scent.
Once more, I bowed low. My naked bottom was lifted high, as my husband walked around the back of me, and took up a stance.
He slashed the rod experimentally through the air a few times, testing the weight and balance of it. It made loud cutting sounds.
My nipples hardened at the whooshing of the rod through empty air.
My arms were folded in front of me. I buried my face in them, and awaited the whipping, which was not long in coming.
Dane slashed the whip across my behind. I moaned.
The switch fell almost caressingly on my bare backside. The flexible rod curled around my buttocks, whipping a thin line across them.
It was very painful. It felt like there was a red-hot wire across my buttocks.
But the pain is sweet. All pain which my master gives me is sweet.
That whipping was very sweet indeed, as it was so very painful.
I am something of a stoic, and have a high tolerance for pain.
I was able to keep from crying out as the first few blows fell on my bottom.
My body tightened and tensed as the rod fell on me. I bit my lip to keep from crying out. My master whipped me slowly and deliberately.
Soon hisses of pain escaped from between my clenched teeth. My eyes were squeezed shut. My bottom tingled and burned from the lashes.
Again and again that punishing rod fell on me. I welcomed the pain. Each lashing stroke seemed to peel away some of the filth which I felt contaminated by from my rape ordeal. This was the way to purity of spirit.
The lash fell harder and harder. One particularly punishing stroke caused my head to jerk upwards as a cry was forced out of me.
My husband, considerate master that he was, halted to see if perhaps the pain was too much for me. I signalled that it was not.
He knew that I wanted a heavy whipping, and not a light and playful one.
My naked body jerked and quivered with each fresh blow of the lashing rod.
My behind burned with heat. It was a mass of throbbing slashes.
Tears spilled from my eyes. They, too, made me feel purified. As the rod continued to fall, I began to cry; aloud, moaning with pain.
Strokes of the lash landed on the taut backs of my thighs, and on my hips.
A few times, the very tip of the rod lashed against the delicate slit of my pussy. Then I did shriek loudly.
All cares, cautions, and inhibitions fell away from me. I wept freely, like a child, my body shaking with sobbing.
My pain was great-so great that it took me a moment to realize that the rod at last had ceased to slash my backside.
My brutalized bottom twitched and quivered in anticipation of the next punishing blow, but no more lashes fell.
My eyes were blurred with tears. My backside ached terribly.
But this was what I wanted, and the pain was sweet to me.
Through my tears, I saw something moving in front of me. It was the switch.
Just as he had done at the start of the whipping, making me kiss the instrument of punishment, he also required that I kiss it when the whipping was done.
This I did. I stifled the moans which came from my mouth, puckered my lips, and pressed them against the thin but vicious lash.
After I kissed it, my husband and master put the lash aside.
I looked over my shoulder at my bottom. The rounded globes of my buttocks were criss-crossed with thin red lines which were wet and oozing.
My husband helped me stand up. My behind burned, and every move sent thrilling waves of agony coursing through my flesh.
My nipples were hard. They looked like fat brown pebbles which were pasted to the tips of my breasts. They throbbed and ached.
My behind was filled with heat. So was my pussy.
Whippings stimulate me. This helps to make me a perfect slave girl. More than once, I have come to orgasm merely from a lashing.
Now, my pussy seethed with juices. The inside of my sex was a mass of wet, humid heat, heat which steamed through me.
I was shaken and trembling from my whipping. My legs were weak, and my knees knocked together. My hands trembled, too.
My husband solicitously helped me to stand. He had been highly stimulated by the whipping. His penis was now stiffly erect.
My heart beat faster as I saw that impressive rod of flesh which jutted from his lean hips. His erection was over seven inches long, and thick.
I will tell you a secret-American males are more abundantly endowed in their members than Japanese males are.
My husband was most abundantly endowed indeed. I worship his penis, in its normal state, but particularly when it is erect.
His balls were now hard and tight in the sac. His penis was almost as red as my backside. It quivered and bobbed.
I leaned against my husband for support. His strong arms held me upright.
I loved the fragrant man-smell of him. I pressed my naked front against his.
My stiff nipples grazed the padded muscles of his chest. His chest hair, while thick, was as soft as fur. My nipples rubbed it.
He enfolded me in his arms, pulling me to him. I felt safe and sheltered.
My soft breasts with their stiff nipples flattened against his chest. His stiff penis rose upright, flattening against his belly.
I rubbed against him. His hard, hot erection was sandwiched between my flesh and his. I felt it throb heavily, like a pounding drum.
He cupped my chin, which still trembled for the sobs which remained within me. He tilted my head back, to kiss me.
I closed my eyes, and opened my mouth to be kissed.
His lips pressed mine, as he fastened his open mouth to my own. He kissed me sweetly, softly, and tenderly at first.
His tongue glided easily into my mouth. I kissed my man ardently. His tongue roamed over my teeth and rubbed my tongue.
His tongue rubbed my own, slithering against it in the moist warm cavern of my mouth. His warm soft breath filled me.
His hands caressed my shaking shoulders, fondling them, touching them.
After he kissed me for a few moments-sweet moments which fired my passion even higher-he broke off the embrace.
Taking me by the hand, he led me to a wooden bench covered with a towel.
I stretched down across it, lying on my stomach. My husband got a jar of soothing ointment, took off its cap, and sat beside me.
He dipped his fingers into the ointment. I gasped as he put his hands on my whipped bottom. The pain rippled through me.
I gasped breathlessly as he lightly massaged the oil into my bottom cheeks.
There was something in the oil which soothed my pain. It shrank the red and swollen flesh, and took some of the heat out of it.
My buttocks rippled and jiggled as he kneaded the oil into them. My gasping moans came continuously. I was most excited.
He parted my buttocks. Involuntarily I tensed up, since the last time this operation had been performed was so my ass could be raped.
My wrinkled and tiny rosebud quivered as it was exposed.
My husband's fingers were slick and slippery with oil. He ran his fingertips lightly down the cleft of my buttocks.
My rosebud tingled as his smooth fingers glided over it.
He had oiled me outside and inside. He put aside the jar, and stood.
Smiling, he extended his hand to me. I took it, slid my legs off the bench, placed my bare feet on the floor, and rose.
We walked hand in hand and side by side to the hot tub.
You Americans sometimes amaze me with some of your customs. For example, when you bathe, you wash yourselves in the tub.
We Japanese never do. We feel that it is self-defeating to cleanse yourself in your own dirty bathwater.
No, we always scrub ourselves clean before getting into the tub.
This was one of the many Japanese customs which my husband had adopted during his years of being stationed in my country.
This is what we did now. Taking a wooden bucket, he lifted it over my head and emptied the contents on me, washing me down.
My bottom was still so sore and tender that even the water splashing over it sent fresh waves of pain running through the flesh.
My hair and flesh were soaked. Water beaded up on my amber skin.
My man next soaped me up. Soon my body was covered with white, frothy foam.
It was very sensual. The soap oiled my flesh. My man pushed my breasts together, kneading the pear-shaped mounds of flesh.
They were slippery and slick as he pushed them together, plumping them up. My stiff brown nipples jutted from the masses of white foam.
I oohed and aahed with sweet pleasure as his hands roamed and glided all over me. He washed me from head to toe.
I especially loved it when he washed my pussy.
My coal-black bush was covered with masses of foam. My pussy lips tingled as the soap was rubbed into them. My labia were sensitive, aroused.
My man was no less aroused. His stiff penis felt rock-hard when it brushed against my flesh. It was also red and burning hot.
I knew that he would take me soon-this knowledge made me feel fulfilled and happy.
After he finished soaping me up, he emptied another bucket of water on me, rinsing me off. I sputtered and giggled as I was washed down.
Rivulets of water ran through the foam, wiping it off my soft bosom and wide hips and smooth, flexing thighs.
After I was fully bathed and cleansed, I performed the same service for my master.
Japanese women know how to please their men. My hands, soft and skilled, caressed my husband as I soaped and rinsed his body.
His tiny nipples were erect. I pinched and toyed with them as I soaped up his chest. I worked my way down his belly to his groin.
The sight of his stiff red penis made my mouth water. I wanted to fill my mouth with his masculine hardness, but I must finish my task.
I lavished a great deal of attention on his genitals. My fingers rubbed lather into his thick pubic patch, making it white with foam.
Delicately I rubbed soap into his swollen balls. He hissed with pleasure.
His hard penis filled both my hands as I washed it.
I pulled and kneaded his member as I soaped it up. I felt the heat rising in his erection under the manipulations of my hands.
He was very hot and excited. He was too impatient to wait for me to rinse him off. He lifted the bucket, and poured it over his head.
He motioned silently for me to enter the tub.
Filled with erotic anticipation, I climbed the short wooden steps to the top of the tub. The rim of the tub was over three feet high.
I lowered myself into the water. It was very hot, but not scalding. I sighed with deep contentment as I entered it.
The buoyant water lifted me. My breasts floated. I submerged myself up to my neck. Dane entered the tub and splashed to me.
He embraced me. His hands moved beneath the surface of the water to embrace me.
It was hot and steamy in the tub, but the heat increased a hundredfold when my husband put his hands between my legs.
His fingers touched my pussy, exciting me. After some moments of stimulation by him which left me breathless and gasping, he entered me.
He lifted my legs in the water. We were face to face. I put my hands on his broad, muscled shoulders.
I wrapped my legs around him, locking my ankles behind his back.
The fleshy head of his penis pressed against my pussy. The labia tingled at the contact, I thrilled as the penis head parted and split them.
I sighed and shivered as his erection pushed its forceful way inside my pussy, penetrating me deeply with one swift smooth stroke.
Since my body floated in the water, leaving me almost weightless, my husband was able to move me according to his pleasure as he made love to me.
He was my master-I was his slave. But he was gentle and tender, and thrilled me beyond words as he thrust slow and deep.
He fondled and toyed with my stiff-nippled breasts. The hot water of the tub seemed to be melting me down from the outside.
His penis thrusting into my pussy seemed to be melting me from within.
He rocked faster and faster. His member throbbed and twitched inside. I was gasping and groaning and rocking my hips.
Soon sighs and deep moans escaped my lips. My climax was very near. This he knew, and so he increased the speed of his thrusts.
I felt like stars were exploding inside my pussy as I came.
He thrust his penis as deep as it could go into me, so that the head of it pressed the mouth of my womb. He cried out as he came.
His semen soaked into the heated membranes inside me.
Later, much later, after we left the tub and rested in another part of the house, he demonstrated the new device he had obtained for me.
It was a chastity belt-one which was more advanced than the last model.
Inside the crotchpiece of this particular belt, there were a pair of blunted rubber plugs set closely together.
When the belt was locked on me, one of the greased plugs would fill my rectum, while the other one, a dildo, filled my pussy.
Bowing to the wisdom of my master, I spread my legs so he could penetrate me with the plugs, and lock me into the two-way chastity belt.
My mouth was not blocked, and I used it to suck him to a second orgasm.
* * *
WHITE SLAVES OF CHINATOWN
CHAPTER ONE
My illustrious father, Sun Feng, is one of the most powerful men in Chinatown.
Although this is the latter part of the 20th century, he has many slaves, male and female, at his beck and call.
I am his daughter-Li Tan Feng.
My friends and equals-few as they are-call me Li. My slaves call me "Mistress". I rule them, body and soul.
Sarah was one of my slaves. Her full name is Sarah Greene. She started out as my lover, but it did not take me long to enslave her.
Slave Sarah and I were in a hotel room in the center of the city-far from my home in Chinatown, which is in the south of the metropolis.
Sarah was nervous, as well she might be. She was about to be rented out for the first time, so that she might sexually serve two males.
The room was high in the building. It was night. Curtains covered the windows, masking the bright lights of the city.
Since this was her first time in such a situation, I had dressed Sarah all in white. She was as lovely as a dream.
Sarah is a twenty year old college coed, of surpassing loveliness. That was where I first met her-at the university we both attended.
It was summer now, and school had recessed until the fall semester.
I was making sure that Sarah would receive an education this summer which she would never forget-an education in slavery.
Greene is her name, but she is white, and I, of course, am Oriental.
She is tall and willowy. Her hair is full and dark brown and very long. It framed her heart-shaped face and tumbled down her back.
Her skin was very pale and fair for one with such dark hair, and such a black pubic bush. I keep her out of the sun as much as possible.
That ivory-white flesh of hers shows the marks of the whip to perfection.
Sarah did not know she was a slave, when first she met me. All she knew was that she was bi-sexual-that beautiful women appealed to her as much as men did.
I am very beautiful.
I see no reason for false modesty. I would not be the mistress of slaves, if I did not hold a justifiably high opinion of my talents.
Sarah is lovely, too. She has dark, arching brows, deep chestnut-brown eyes, a long, sharp nose, and wide, full, sensual lips.
As I waited for the males to arrive, I examined Sarah.
Yes, she was worried. She had never done anything like this before. She was afraid, but she feared my ropes and whips even more.
The room was most luxurious. I am very selective in such matters, and can not stand to be in a place which does not please my senses.
The room was dominated by the big double bed. Sarah sat on the edge of it.
I sat in a chair not far from it. I studied Sarah, watching her reactions.
I knew that she would not disappoint me in her performance.
I had readied her carefully for this erotic encounter.
Only a short time ago, she had been freshly bathed. Her hair was shampooed and styled. It was radiant with glossy good health.
Sarah's face was lightly made-up. I used a light touch on the cosmetics which I had applied on her, since she was naturally lovely.
Had she not been lovely, she never would have been my slave.
As I said, I used a light touch with her make-up, since there was no point in gilding the lily.
Her brows were subtly darkened. Her lashes were thick and long, and had needed no mascara. Her deep brown eyes were filled with apprehension.
Her wide lips were painted with a glossy red lipstick. It looked like fresh red paint, it was so wet and shimmering, a mouth made for kissing.
Her face was naturally pale, but worry made it even whiter. This was good, since it made her dark brows, eyes, and red lips stand out by contrast.
Her neck was long and swan-like. Fitted around it was a black leather slave collar. It was clasped snugly but not chokingly.
Sarah is tall-much taller than I. I stand only an inch or two over five feet, while she is nearly half a head taller.
It is most amusing to see such a large, tall, healthy girl take orders from a petite miss such as myself. The contrast in our sizes tickles my fancy.
Sarah sat on the edge of the bed. Her legs were pressed tightly together, and her feet touched the floor.
I had outfitted her in lingerie and garments which would excite masculine lust.
Sarah is most shapely. Hers is the classic American female physique which I so admired combination of lush, buxom breasts, a narrow waist, wide hips, a plump and rounded bottom, and long, strong legs.
Her shape was made even more curved and alluring by the midriff cincher I had laced her into not long ago.
The cincher has panels of lovely white lace. As I said, white was the theme for this, her first experience as a rented slave girl.
The garment began just below her large, lovely breasts. It extended down to her waistline. It laced up the back.
I had laced her into it very tightly. I made her take a deep breath, then let it out before I pulled tight the laces in the back.
Those laces were tied so tight that they dug into the soft smooth flesh of her back. Sarah was somewhat breathless from it.
The cincher accented the hourglass shape of her physique.
It plumped up her breasts-not that they needed it-and it pushed out her buttocks, making them rounder and more fully ripe than normal.
Her bosom was most splendid. I am small in the bust. My breasts are little larger than ripe plums. Perhaps this is why I am so attracted to those females who have been blessed with an abundant bosom.
Sarah was most certainly blessed. Her breasts were the size of melons, globes of infinitely soft white flesh.
Her breasts were bare, and dangled over the cincher. Sarah is fortunate that she is in good condition, otherwise her massive breasts might sag.
Every day I stand over her with my riding crop, making sure that she performs that regimen of exercises which I set out for her.
The results have pleased me. Her body glows with the splendid tone of good health. Her shape is full and firm.
The sight of her naked breasts would madden any man. The nipples are as large as the first joint of her little finger-and that is in their unerect state.
The rosettes are wider than silver dollars. They cover a good deal of her bosom.
Hanging down from the bottom of the waist cincher are four fat, frilly garters.
These garters are pinned to the tops of the white stockings which now sheathe her legs. Her feet were covered by high heeled shoes.
The high heels were white, of course. They had sharply pointed toes, curved arches, and four-inch spiked stiletto heels.
Sarah had never worn high heels, before she came to me as a slave.
I love to dress my slaves in exotic, luxurious lingerie. Both my male and female slaves are forced to wear such garments in bed with me.
Of course, it does not take much forcing, since my slaves must share my tastes. Some of the men object to cross-dressing at first.
After they have writhed under a punishment session with my riding crop, they quickly change their tune, and dress according to my whims.
But there were no male slaves in that hotel room. There was only Sarah, and me.
She wore panties-panties of white satin. They were bikini-style, and hugged her crotch, and her rounded bottom.
The panties had lace trimmings at the waistband and leg openings.
The panties fit her so tightly that the gently rounded, arched mound of her pubis was revealed, as were the fleshy folds of her pussy lips.
White was the theme of Sarah's garments, garments which I had selected for her.
Black was the theme of the bizarre outfit I wore.
Now that I have described Sarah, permit me to describe myself.
I am twenty-one years old. As I stated previously, I am small, petite.
My face looks almost angelic-a Chinese angel, to be sure.
I was born in American, and consider myself as American as anyone else, but I am also proud of my Chinese heritage.
My thin face is delicately boned and aristocratic. My eyes are a shade of brown which is so dark that it appears almost black.
My eyes are curved, instead of round, like the eyes of Caucasians. I have high cheekbones, sunken cheeks, and wide full lips.
A few years ago, an agent for a major modeling agency saw me. He swore that only my shortness prevented me from becoming a major high-fashion model.
Perhaps that helps to explain why I like my female lovers to be taller and larger than me. It increases the thrilling feeling of power I so love, to dominate someone who is physically stronger than you.
Domination is a matter of mental attitude, not brute force.
Let me warn you-I can be brutal when the circumstances require it.
My face is a perfect mask. Few would believe that my soft loveliness can hide the fierce soul of a raging dominatrix.
But I am my father's daughter, and like him in all ways.
He has a tremendous appetite for power and a lust to dominate. These hungers have been passed down to me.
My father is one of the few men in this world I respect. He knows nothing of my dominant lusts. I have kept them a secret from him.
I long for the day when I can reveal my true nature to him.
Until that day, I amuse myself with my male and female slaves.
To continue with the description of my appearance: my hair is as black as shadow, and very, very long, since I have not cut it for years.
When my hair is freely unbound, the tips of it brush the small of my back.
I love to have slaves brush my hair, making it shimmer. And woe to the careless slave who snags or pulls my hair by mistake!
This night, as I had done so many times when I am in my dominant aspect, my hair was pinned up at the top of my head, in a beehive-like crown.
Ringlets from it fell across my forehead. Having my hair pinned up helps to accent the lovely contours of my exquisite face.
My face was more heavily made-up than Sarah's. My brows were darkened into high, imperious arches. Shadow and eyeliner made my eyes look deeper and wider.
I wore black leather. It was a hot summer night, but the room was delightfully cool and air-conditioned, so I was most comfortable.
I wore a one-piece dress of thin black leather. It had shoulder straps, a plunging V-neckline, and slits up the sides.
The hem of the dress reached just below my knees. But the slits in the sides of the dress reached up to the tops of my thighs.
Sarah is full-bodied and voluptuous. I am slight and slender, almost delicate.
My breasts are small. My body is slim. I have a lean torso, a flat stomach, narrow hips with prominent hipbones, and smooth slender legs.
I liked the feel and the animal aroma of the black leather against my satiny flesh. I wore no bra, nor did I need to.
Beneath the skirt, I wore a black leather garter belt, dark stockings, and black silk panties which caressed my pussy.
Just crossing my legs, or rubbing my thighs together, sent thrilling sensations through my sensitive labia.
My feet are small. They were covered with ankle boots. The toes were sharply pointed, and the three-inch heels were spiked.
I see no need to outfit myself in shoes or boots with six-inch heels. I am not ashamed of my height, or lack of same.
Looped around my thin right wrist was a leather thong. This thong was attached to the butt of the handle of my riding crop.
As I looked at Sarah, I wondered if there was time for me to warm up her bottom with a whipping. Such action would warm up my pussy as well.
Even as I was thinking such things, the phone rang.
Sarah was more nervous than I had thought. The sudden jangling of the phone startled her, causing her to start and cry out.
Fear flickered over her face. I smiled maliciously at her as I rose from my chair and crossed the floor to the bedside night table.
My legs flashed under the slitted skirt. My buttocks rolled under the tight black leather.
The riding crop dangling from my wrist brushed against my leather covered thighs. Sarah's wide eyes stared at the crop.
I picked up the phone and answered it. The speaker on the other end was the desk clerk of the hotel, announcing the arrival of my visitors.
I smiled thinly at the nervous slave on the bed, as I told the clerk to send my guests right up to the room.
A short time later, I opened the door for James and Bob.
They were two friends of mine, but not slaves. James was a professor at the college I attended. Bob was his younger cousin.
I let them into the room, and locked and chained the door when they were inside.
James is in his early thirties. He is six feet tall, and weighs 180 pounds. He has a ruggedly handsome face, and an athletic build.
He is a teacher of anthropology. I smiled to myself as I thought that my slave would show him some rituals he had never seen before.
James was no slave, but he knew of my dominant ways. I extended my hand, the one on which the riding crop dangled from the wrist.
He kissed the back of my hand, bowing slightly. He was no slave, but he demonstrated the proper respect for my status.
Bob was younger than his cousin. He could only have been a year or two older than Sarah and I. He was tall and gangly.
Bob seemed as nervous as Sarah. His hair was messy and long and stringy, but it was freshly washed. He was clean shaven.
His pale blue eyes were wide and watery behind the thick lenses of his glasses.
His face, while falling far short of movie star good looks, was certainly pleasant, and he seemed an agreeable, if anxious, fellow.
His body was good. He was tall and wiry, with the lean build of a runner or jogger, which later I learned that he was.
I decided that he would be more than acceptable, if he only paid more attention to his grooming. But that was his problem, not mine.
He followed his older cousin's lead, and took my hand to kiss it.
His palm was sweaty. His face was red, flushed. He pressed his puckered lips lightly against the back of my hand.
James was a cool customer. His travels around the world had left him nearly immune to shock. He did not bat an eye at the sight of my slave girl.
Bob was not so coolly composed. His watery eyes widened, and his jaw dropped when he saw Sarah sitting meekly and submissively on the bed.
A furious red blush covered his face. I laughed to myself.
Bob was foolish. The slave girl was here for his pleasure. She was the one who should be embarrassed, not he;
I knew he would quickly shed his shyness and inhibitions when he saw just how slavishly submissive Sarah was.
It was time to show off my slave girl to them.
Sarah flinched when I tapped her smooth soft shoulder with the crop. She looked up, red spots of color rising in her cheeks.
James grinned as he looked her over. Bob looked away nervously, then came back for another long look. Sarah lowered her gaze to the floor.
"Gentlemen, this is Sarah, my latest slave girl," I began. "She has served me well. Now I am going to expand her responsibilities."
"She is too lovely for me to hoard to myself. I have decided to give other, select masters the opportunity of using her for their pleasure."
"Eventually. I intend to make slave Sarah a full-fledged pleasure slut in my service. That career will begin here, and now."
Sarah shivered as I caressingly ran the riding crop over her smooth shoulders.
I placed the leather crop beneath her lush bosom, and lifted one of her breasts. The butter-soft flesh oozed and jiggled.
"Sarah is well-trained, but since this is her first time, I will be present throughout the session. I will grade her performance."
"Here are my restrictions: there will be no heavy pain-nothing which will leave scars or permanent marks. And, although she is a most accomplished toilet slave, I reserve her exclusively for my own use in such things, and forbid it to others."
Apart from that, there were no real restrictions, as I told my guests.
"Before the session begins," I continued, "you will be required to pay me for the use of this lovely slave girl."
I did this not because I needed the moneymy father is incredibly rich-but merely to get Sarah into the habit of being sold.
I held out my hand. James counted the money into it. The rates were most reasonable-one hundred dollars for the use of her.
That was for the night. Had I so desired, I could have charged one hundred dollars an hour, for the use of such a fresh and lovely girl.
Sarah fidgeted nervously as the transaction was concluded.
There was something thrillingly erotic about being paid for the use of a slave which I had trained for just this purpose.
I felt as though my dominant career was truly beginning.
I pointed to a black leather bag on the dresser. It was filled with devices of punishment and restraint.
Seeing that neither of the men had brought any instruments, I told them that I could supply anything which they might need.
So-I had finished my preparations. The session could begin.
I said, "I will be here in body, but you need not be concerned by my presence. Feel free to enjoy the slave according to your tastes."
I went to Sarah, leaned over her, and kissed her forehead.
"I know you will not disappoint me, my pet," I said. Sarah softly assured me that she would make me proud to be her mistress.
I retired to the sidelines, so to speak, as I sat down in a comfortable armchair which faced the bed.
I would have a clear view of all the action to come.
James told Sarah to rise. In her high heels, she stood only a few inches shorter than he. His eyes were hot and glittering.
Bob stood to one side of him, letting his older, more experienced cousin take the lead. Bob was sweating more heavily than Sarah was.
My leather skirt rode high on my smooth stockinged thighs as I crossed my legs.
Sarah submissively stared at the floor as James fondled her.
He enfolded her in his arms, embracing her. He crushed his lips against her red-painted mouth, kissing her with fire.
Sarah's plump breasts pressed against his chest. She opened her mouth.
His tongue lanced inside it. He tasted the sweetness of her saliva. She returned his kisses with a docility which was fitting for her slave status.
I saw James jaw muscles flex as he thrust his tongue into her mouth, rubbing it against her own tongue, probing, exploring.
His hands roamed over her soft masses of rippling flesh. He fondled her broad bare back, warm and ivory white over the waist cincher.
As he kissed her, his hand dropped to her panty covered bottom, resting on the rounded curve of her buttocks.
Her panties were very brief and low-cut. They hugged the bottoms of her ass cheeks, but most of her bottom was nakedly visible.
He patted her flesh, caressing it. His hand slipped down under her panties, to cup and touch her splendid bottom.
He caressed her stockinged thighs. His hands rustled against the white nylons which sheathed her legs like a second skin.
When finally he stepped back from her, breaking off the kiss, her nipples were puckered and stiffly erect. Her breasts bobbed as she panted for breath.
James stepped aside, so Bob could take his turn.
Bob was awkward and unsure. His eyes were wide and staring, as though he could hardly believe that this lovely female was available for his pleasure.
He kissed her lightly on the mouth. He was intimidated by her.
I smiled to myself. I knew that Bob would change his attitude when Sarah showed just how submissive she really was.
Bob looked down, peering through the bottoms of his lenses at the swelling tops of her naked breasts. His eyes were wide, fascinated.
Sarah inched closer to him. Her nipples grazed his chest. She swayed her upper body from side to side, rubbing the stiff nipples against it.
At the same time, James took off his shirt. He was broad-shouldered. Thick masses of brown hair matted his chest and belly.
He was a hairy creature. That was good. It accented the contrast between his demanding masculinity, and Sarah's yielding softness.
Shyly, tentatively, Bob fondled and kneaded Sarah's breasts. The soft mounds of flesh jiggled and rippled at his touch.
He took hold of her nipple, rolling and rubbing it between his fingers.
Soon he stepped aside, once more allowing James to take the lead.
James was not hesitant. He told Sarah that while her panties were very pretty indeed, she would have to take them off.
Without hesitation, Sarah hooked her thumbs in the top of the panties, and pulled them down off her wide, alluring hips.
Bob stifled a gasp as she exposed herself. First the thick brown triangle of her bush came into view. The soft curls were glossy.
Next, her pussy was revealed. She has a lovely sex. Her pussy lips are full and fleshy, like some gorgeous pink-petalled rose blooming between her legs.
The panties rustled as they fell down her stockinged legs.
CHAPTER TWO
Slave Sarah was commanded to masturbate for the amusement of the males.
I was amused by it, too.
Sarah stepped lightly, almost daintily, out of the white satin panties which hung down around her ankles.
Her heavy breasts dangled arousingly as she bent forward from the waist to pick up the panties. She folded them carefully, then set them on the night table.
She started for the bed, but James ordered her to masturbate standing up.
Sarah shrugged, causing her breasts to rise and fall. The masses of flesh jiggled softly. There was nothing soft about her erect nipples.
She spread her high heeled feet shoulder width apart.
Her hand dropped between her legs. The soft, fleshy pussy lips rippled as she passed her fingers over them, rubbing them softly.
James was hard. His penis had gone stiff from the moment that he first embraced her. His member made a fat bulge in the crotch of his trousers.
Sarah rubbed herself faster and harder. The labia split and spread, flashing sleek pink membranes, wet and slippery.
Her juices were flowing. Soon her fingers were wet with secretions.
As she fondled herself, her pussy lips darkened in color. They changed from a pale pink, to a deep, blushing shade of rose.
Her big breasts rose and fell with heavy breathing. As she continued to play with herself, Bob's penis became stiff, hard.
He stared at Sarah. His eyes were wide behind his glasses.
I watched him. My gaze was fastened on his crotch.
As Sarah's masturbation became more intense and she started to moan involuntarily, there was a shifting and stirring inside Bob's pants.
I could actually see his member hardening and growing erect. His penis expanded in quivering spasms, growing firm and full.
The fabric at his crotch was slowly and surely pushed outward as his penis lifted it while it grew to a most respectable erection.
Sarah's eyes were squeezed shut, and her face was red and shiny with sweat. There was a wailing quaver to her panting breaths.
James commented that she was a very naughty girl, and deserved to be punished for taking such obvious delight in her act of self-abuse.
He asked my permission to check my bag of tricks. I; gave my consent.
James removed a leather strap from the bag. The strap was fifteen inches long, two inches thick, and quite heavy.
He took up a stance behind Sarah. There was a loud smacking sound as the leather strap landed a sizzling blow on her bottom.
A deep red rectangular mark glowed across her plump, rounded buttocks.
Sarah groaned, and her body jerked, as the strap hit her.
She did not interrupt the steady, ever-increasing strokes of her finger across her heated pussy, not even as James continued to whip her.
This was nothing new to Sarah. Many a night she had writhed and shrieked under my lash. This was comparatively mild.
Bob was highly stimulated by the strapping.
It must have been the first time he ever saw a female being punished. His mouth gaped open in slack-jawed astonishment.
As he watched, his hand dropped down to his bulging crotch. He gripped his member and squeezed it roughly through his pants.
Sarah's white buttocks deepened to a rich red glowing color, as the strap warmed her bottom with vigor.
The sound of leather striking soft bottom flesh was loud in the room.
Sarah's teeth were clenched. She hissed through them each time the strap fell on her. Her buttock jiggled from the impact.
Her fingertips burrowed under the labia at the top of her slit.
She pressed her fingertips against her clitoris. I knew well that her clitoris was unusually prominent and well developed.
Her fingertips rubbed the throbbing button of flesh with an urgent circular movement. Her panting breaths came faster and faster.
She climaxed. Her lovely face contorted with an ecstatic mixture of pain and pleasure. She cried out loudly, and shuddered.
As she orgasmed, James whipped her harder than ever with the strap.
Sarah pressed her thighs against her wet hand, clamping it down on her quivering pussy. She leaned forward, moaning.
James halted the whipping. He was kind enough to give her a moment to recover from her orgasm. He undressed while she gasped and moaned.
His stiff penis sprang erect when he pulled down his pants and shorts.
He stepped out of his clothes, leaving them in a heap on the floor.
His stiff, red penis bobbed as he walked around to Sarah's front.
When slave Sarah opened her pleasure-glazed eyes, the first thing she saw was James' hard member jutting inches away from her face.
Silently he pointed at his swollen erection, then gripped it.
Sarah knew what was required of her. She parted her red lips and lightly ran her pink pointed tongue over them.
Her scarlet, glossy lipstick had been somewhat mussed when first James anlthen Bob kissed her on her mouth.
She parted her lips, opening her mouth wide.
James guided his erection between her lips. Self-controlled as he was, he gasped as his hot hard penis was surrounded by her wet mouth.
The fat red cock head, and a good deal of the shaft, sank into Sarah's mouth.
Sarah curled her wide lips over her strong white teeth. She wrapped her lips around James' cock shaft, and started to suck him.
Her long masses of dark brown hair fell down over her breasts, partially covering them. Her stiff nipples peeked out between the strands.
James rubbed his cock head against the smooth, slippery roof of her mouth.
Sarah sucked him wetly and loudly. Her saliva drooled down from the corners of her mouth, wetting her chin, making it shine.
She whipped her tongue against the sensitive underside of his shaft.
He wrapped her hair around her head and guided it back and forth, making her sucking mouth bob up and down on his shaft.
His muscular buttocks were tightly clenched as he rocked his hips back and forth, plunging his hot member in and out of her mouth.
Sarah reached up, and wrapped her hands around his lean, hard, hairy hips.
I was becoming rather stimulated myself.
My nipples were hard. They throbbed and ached. They jutted against the carefully shaped cups of thin black leather which held my breasts.
There was heat inside my pussy, heat and wetness.
James thrust faster and harder. Each time he withdrew, pulling his cock out of her mouth so that only the knobbed head was inside it, his penis was redder and hotter.
His heavy, panting gasps for breath-his red, swollen face-his deep groaning moans-all these signs foretold his oncoming orgasm.
He held Sarah's head in both hands, pinning it in place as he thrust deep into her mouth. This time, he did not pull back.
Instead, he came inside her mouth.
Sarah knew without being told, that she would be expected and required to swallow his spurting semen. I had schooled her in this.
Her cheeks went inward as she sucked his spurting penis. Her jaw and throat muscles flexed as she gulped his come down her throat.
He cried out, shuddering from the force of his orgasm.
He kept his erection in her mouth after he stopped coming. His eyes were closed, and his head lowered until his chin rested on his chest.
Finally, a slack smile of sweet satisfaction came over his face.
He pulled out of her mouth. Semen and saliva covered his shaft.
His penis was red and semi-erect. His balls were still swollen.
He commanded Sarah to crawl to Bob, and perform the same service for him.
Sarah wiped off the traces of semen which clung to her lips and chin. She got on her hands and knees, and crawled across the floor.
Her heavy, dangling breasts lightly slapped her arms as they swayed from side to side. Her ripe buttocks jiggled.
As she crawled, the pink slit of her pussy could be seen below the red rounded globes of her spanked behind.
Bob squirmed with excitement. He was so nervous that he had some trouble in opening his trousers and taking them down.
Sarah reached his feet, and knelt, her breasts bobbing as she rose.
Her head was on a level with the thick erection which bulged in his trousers.
His hands shook. The zipper got caught halfway down.
Sarah softly asked his permission to undress him, her lord and master.
I smiled appreciatively. Sarah had handled that most delicately, with tact. She did not make Bob look foolish or incompetent.
Instead, she phrased her words so that it seemed as though she were humbly begging him to grant her the great favor of being allowed to disrobe him.
Bob readily agreed. His face had darkened to a deep red blush of embarrassment as he tugged futilely at his zipper.
Sarah deftly untangled it. She pulled the zipper all the way down, then tugged his pants off his hips.
They slid down his long legs and fell in a heap at his feet.
He wore old-fashioned boxer style shorts-the most unerotic underwear I can possibly imagine.
Sometimes, when I am cross with a slave, I force him or her to put on such shorts, as a humiliating punishment. But Bob had worn them voluntarily.
The crotch of the shorts was pushed outwards and upwards by his cock. His stiff shaft could be glimpsed through the open fly hole.
Sarah took down his shorts. Bob gasped with hot pleasure as she took hold of his member in both hands and kissed it.
His penis was long and thin. It was longer than James', but James had the thicker shaft. At any rate, he would provide Sarah with a mouthful of hot flesh.
And so he did. Sarah pressed her puckered lips against his cock head, kissing it wetly. Bob shivered and groaned.
She gripped his penis. She flicked her tongue across the tiny hole in the tip of his swollen cock head.
She pressed her tongue tip against his heated flesh, and licked a long, slow, wet line down his shaft, to his balls.
Bob whimpered with lust as she nuzzled his balls, and ran her tongue down the center of the sac. His testicles rippled under her tongue.
He was hot. Sarah took his penis into her mouth, and sucked.
Sweat poured from the youth's face. He was older than I was, but compared to my bedroom experience, he was a naive child.
Tonight's session with slave Sarah would teach him a thing or two.
His member burned a deep bright red even before he put it in her mouth.
She did not have to suck him for very long until he came.
When he did come, you might have thought that it was the first orgasm he had ever experienced-he was that shaken by it.
He cried out more loudly than Sarah had during the height of her whipping.
His face was so wet with sweat that his glasses almost fell off his nose. He whipped his head from side to side.
His long member was holstered deep in Sarah's throat. Just as she had done for James, she did for Bob, swallowing the semen from his cock.
He was shaking and shuddering. His orgasm was a shattering one.
The men needed some time to rest and recover from the force of their climaxes, but slave Sarah would get no such rest.
I was deeply in need of some stimulation myself. My nipples were hard, and my pussy was wet. It was time for my pleasure to be satisfied.
The men did not object to my joining the party.
Why should they? I am beautiful. It has been my experience that there are few men who object to watching women make love.
I ordered Sarah to climb on the bed. The blankets were pulled down to the foot of the bed. The sheets were white and smooth.
Sarah knelt on the bed. I went to her, unfastening my dress as I walked.
I opened the dress and took it off.
My breasts were bare, since I wore no bra. The nipples, which were dark brown in color, jutted stiffly from my amber breasts.
Beneath the dress, there was a black leather garter belt pinned around my narrow waist. It had fat black lace flounces.
The frilly lace lay across my skin like veils.
My slim hips were covered by black silk panties. As always, I wore the panties over my garters, for fast, efficient removal.
I felt James and Bob staring at my! delicate perfection. But they would never havej me, not unless they submitted totally to my rule.
James, I knew, was a dominant through and through. Bob was a different story. I suspected that he had submissive tendencies which could be exploited.
The question was, what could he do for me?
At that moment, I was too occupied with sweet Sarah to give ungainly Bob much thought. Let the men sweat and suffer as they watched my loveliness.
Sarah was commanded to take down my panties-with her teeth.
She knelt on the bed. I stood on the floor, facing her. I leaned forward, rubbing my panty covered crotch against her hot wet face.
She used her lips and tongue to work a fold of my silken panties between her teeth! It took a while for her to accomplish this.
I did not mind. I had all night. And Bob and James did not mind. They stared hotly at the show of one female dominating another.
Once Sarah had a fold of my panties between her teeth, she was able to pull them down off my hips by lowering her head.
My bush was revealed. It was black as midnight, the silken hairs glossy and shimmering as the pelt of a seal.
That furry, fleecy pelt covered most of my pussy lips.
Like the rest of me, my pussy is delicate and exquisite. Since I am small and narrow in the hips, my pussy is most delightfully tight.
Those few male slaves of mine who have been blessed to have me climb on top of them and take their members inside me, have sworn that mine is the hottest and tightest pussy they have ever known.
Of course, only my very favorite male slaves-the most handsome and the most slavishly devoted-are permitted to enjoy such divine pleasure.
Once the panties were tugged off my hips, they fell down my stockinged legs. I stepped out of them, and turned around.
I presented my backside to Sarah.
My bottom is one of the best of my features. I am slight and slim, but my bottom is abundantly equipped with a pair of lush buttocks.
My ass is heart-shaped and dimpled, the smooth amber cheeks split by a cleft like the twin halves of a plum.
I looked over my smooth shoulder at Sarah. Her eyes were eager and shining.
I took hold of a mass of her hair. I pulled her face to my bottom.
She gasped with pleasure as she nuzzled my behind. She rubbed her hot wet face against the soft smooth bottom cheeks.
The contact was mutually satisfactory to both of us. Sarah extended her long pink tongue-that tongue which had served and pleasured my pussy so very often-and used it to polish up my behind.
My ass cheeks rippled as her licking, lingering tongue passed over them.
I knew that my bottom looked especially luscious, framed as it was by the black leather garter belt, the frilly shirred garters, and the dark stocking tops.
Before too long, every square inch of my buttocks within that target area glistened with a silver coating of her saliva.
Ah, but I needed to be cleaned inside as well as out.
I reached behind me and spread my buttocks. My tiny anus quivered as it was exposed. Sarah pushed her face forward.
She buried her face between my buttocks. Her wet, puckered lips fastened on my anus with a wet, passionate, adoring kiss.
Bob and James were squirming in their seats. They had recovered their strength and masculine vigor-both of them had stiff, throbbing erections.
If they were my slaves, I would have made them suck each other, a sport which amuses me. But they did not belong to me.
Well, they would just have to hold on to themselves while I took my pleasure with my slave girl.
Bob literally held on to himself as he watched. His fist closed over his stiff, swollen member. He kneaded and pulled it.
Sarah licked the wrinkled brown folds of my anus. I leaned forward, which caused my backside to press even tighter against her mouth.
Her tongue forced its way past my tight anal ring, burying it inside my rectum.
She thrust her tongue back and forth, working it inside me like a miniature penis. I put my hand between my legs.
While my slave girl tongued my bottom, I fondled my pussy.
James and Bob would gladly have performed either service for me, but I do not play with curiosity seekers, only with real submissives and slaves.
My pussy seethed with juices. At last I stepped forward, pulling my bottom away from Sarah's hungry, loving mouth.
I had decided that her lips and tongue would bring me to my climax.
Before I moved into position, I suggested to the two males that one of them might enjoy taking Sarah's pussy while I used her mouth.
James graciously told Bob to take the first turn.
Bob jumped up from his seat and hurried to the bed, his long red erection bobbing wildly as he made haste.
Sarah knelt on the mattress. I had her lift her bottom up high.
Bob knelt on the bed behind her. The broad fleshy head of his stiff penis rubbed against her fleshy, red-spanked buttocks.
He touched her all over. He could penetrate her when he liked. I had my own pleasure to attend to, and so did Sarah.
I spread my legs. The high heels of the ankle boots which I wore accented the contours of my thighs and calves.
The muscles of my legs shifted, rippled, and flexed beneath my stockings.
I put my hand on the back of Sarah's head and pulled her to my pussy.
She opened her mouth and fastened it on my pussy. The sensual friction as her soft lips rubbed my softer pussy lips was thrilling.
I leaned into her, grinding my sex against her mouth. I was wet and dripping inside my pussy. My juices smeared on her mouth, over my pink pussy membranes, lapping up my juices.
Bob's face was down between her legs. I chuckled to myself. Yes, he must be a submissive, all right. Didn't he know that she was here for his pleasure?
He surprised me. He had tongued her slit only to lubricate it with saliva preparing her for the penetration of his hard cock.
His face was wet with juices from her pussy, and his own saliva. His saliva, thick and gooey, oozed on her labia.
Gripping his cock, he guided it to her slit, pressing the head between her thick labia. He inched forward on his knees as he penetrated her.
Sarah groaned in pleasure as his cock head parted her pussy lips and sank inside her. He gripped her flesh lips as he thrust into her.
He entered her in one swift thrust, burying his cock up to the base of its shaft. Her pussy was lubricated inside with her natural secretions.
Since Sarah's sweet, loving mouth was pressed firmly against my own pussy, her every moan rippled through me, giving me an added thrill.
Bob shoved his stiff penis in and out of her pussy. His sweating hands left wet smears on the soft ivory flesh of her hips and thighs.
He fucked her pussy from behind. I fucked her mouth from in front. James stood by the bedside, amusing himself by handling her oversized breasts.
As I surveyed the scene which I had arranged and created, I felt fully in control, and secure in my dominance.
I thrilled to the knowledge that at last I was ready to confront my father, Sun Feng, master of Chinatown, and assume my rightful destiny of dominance.
I was equally thrilled by the fierce orgasm which Sarah gave me with her mouth.
CHAPTER THREE
Slave Sarah was in my father's palace-in Chinatown. So was I.
The moment of ultimate truth had arrived.
It was on a weeknight in late Fall. During the last few months, Sarah had been loaned or rented to many masters.
I knew that my father would be something altogether different for her.
Sarah was most thrillingly and alluringly dressed. Knowing my father's tastes as well as I do, I had tailored Sarah's appearance accordingly.
She waited in the underground anteroom, outside my father's quarters.
She was dressed to thrill. Her hair hung in shimmering waves. Draped over one arm was the silver fur coat she had worn outside.
Her luscious body was sheathed in a skin-tight dress of red and black satin.
Her brows were darkened, her lips were moist and red-painted.
The dress had a high mandarin collar (so appropriate for her to wear in the presence of my imperial father!), and a wide oval space in the center of her bosom.
This space revealed her stunning cleavage to perfection, displaying the rounded swelling curves of her breasts.
It also revealed the edges of the black lace bra which supported those awesome mounds of flesh.
Her fat nipples, even though they were not erect, jutted against the sleek and shimmering fabric of the dress which hugged her curves.
The hem of the dress reached an inch or two past her knees.
The dress was done in the Oriental fashion, and so was slit up the sides, showing off her plump stockinged thighs.
The stockings had a bizarre diamond pattern, which looked like the scaled markings on the back of a snake.
They made her long and lovely legs look totally outrageous.
Open-toed shoes with high heels expressed the contours of her calves and thighs. She looked as though she was perched on stilts.
Sarah was beautiful, but she was not Chinese, and was a stranger. So my father's men treated her cautiously, not knowing her.
Mako, my father's bodyguard, drew the delightful task of searching her to make sure that she carried no concealed weapons.
When a man is as powerful-and ruthless-as my father, he makes many enemies. Important interests would be pleased by his death.
Mako is a fierce specimen of physical supremacy. He was trained in China to be a human killing machine.
His hands could tear the heart out of the chest of a living man. He was tall, and his muscles seemed to have been sculpted from yellow stone.
Still, there was a broad smile on his face as he searched Sarah.
The room was small, with a low ceiling and brick-red walls. Incense burned in the lap of a gilded Buddha, filling the room with sweet fragrance.
The room was dim, but I had a good enough view.
Mako told her he must search her-intimately.
Sarah shrugged. I had tutored her well in what to expect here.
She set her fur coat down on a table. Mako loomed over her.
He stood at least a head taller. Facing her, he ran his hands over her body, patting her down for a hidden knife or poisoned needle.
He made a most thorough search, to say the least. He enjoyed himself hugely.
He squeezed and lifted her breasts. She unbuttoned the dress and he looked in her bra, fondling her breasts as he moved them around.
Sarah spread her legs at his command. He knelt down and ran his palms up and down her stockinged legs more than once.
Still he was not finished. Next, Sarah was forced to lift the hem of her skirt high above her waist for an intimate examination.
Mako grunted approvingly when he saw the garter belt, panties, and stockings she wore. He tugged her panties down to her knees.
Sarah leaned back against the wall. Mako knelt down. He put his hand between her legs. He inserted his finger in her slit.
It was his long middle finger, and he buried it in her up to the knuckle.
Red spots of embarrassed color rose in her cheeks. Mako probed her. He took hold of her fleshy labia, and pulled them to the sides.
Sarah moaned softly. The bright, shocking pink of her membranes was exposed.
Mako grinned as he finally took his finger out of her. It gleamed wetly.
He was still not finished. Sarah had to run around and present her backside for inspection. The fleshy globes jiggled.
She bent forward from the waist. He took hold of her buttocks.
The flesh turned pale white where his fingers clutched it. Her brown-ringed anus quivered as it was exposed.
He wet his finger with saliva and put it up her ass. Sarah pressed her front against the wall, her breasts flattening and spreading to the sides.
She grunted as he made his rectal examination. Finding nothing inside her that should not be there, he withdrew his finger.
Sarah turned around. "Are you quite finished?"
He nodded, smiling widely. "My master will see you now."
You may well wonder where I was during all this time.
Let me explain my situation. You may have wondered why all my friends and my slaves are Caucasian.
My father is the reason for that. He is one of the leaders of the Tong, the secret society which rules Chinatown with an iron fist.
Courts enforce the laws, politicians make them, and police see that they are obeyed. In Chinatown, the Tong reigns supreme, over all of these.
The respectable students of Chinese descent refuse to associate with me at the University, or in the elite society of Chinatown.
Like my father and his men, I am an outcast among my people.
His palace is lodged in a building which looks from the outside like a rundown tenement. Inside, it is a luxurious fortress.
The building is very old, and has been used by Tong leaders for almost a century. It is honeycombed with secret passages.
I know of these passages. I know all the secrets of the palace. I was hiding in one of those passages.
Mako did not know I was there. I was hidden behind a wall.
I could see him perfectly, because all the secret passages are outfitted with spy holes. The leaders of the Tong love to watch their men unobserved.
Seeing that Sarah was entering my father's private chambers, I hurried down the cramped and dim passage to the next turning.
I paused when I reached the next spy hole. There was a chair set by the peephole, one which I had left, since I often spied on my father.
I pressed my eye to the spyglass, and peered through it.
My father rose from his chair-his throne, really-as Sarah was ushered into the room. He descended the platform to her.
He is a handsome, hawk-like man, thin and wiry. His short hair is iron-gray, and his features are sharp and stern.
He wore robes from old China. They were richly embroidered and brocaded. A green silk skull-cap covered his scalp.
His eyes flashed with interest as he looked at Sarah. He sent Mako out of the chamber, so he was alone with Sarah.
"Who are you, and why have you come to me?" he asked.
Only a short time ago, Sarah had appeared at the gate and demanded to see my father. No one knew her.
She smiled as she started to undress. Sun Feng's eyes narrowed, glittering as he saw the luscious, lovely development of her breasts.
She took off the dress, draping it over the back of a green wood chair.
Her breasts were contained in a sexy bra with black satin half-cups. These cups supported her, while leaving her nipples and rosettes bare.
Sarah said, "I come here as a gift to you, lord, a gift from a friend."
"A generous gift indeed," Sun Feng murmured. "What is the name of my gracious benefactor, who gives such charming gifts?"
Sarah said, "Begging your indulgence, lord, but my master has commanded me not to reveal the source of the gift until afterwards."
"Ah! A mystery!" He chuckled as he mounted the steps to his throne.
Sitting down on it, he beckoned her to him.
Her breasts bobbed in the lacy half-cups. Her ripe, rounded buttocks swayed and rolled from side to side as she climbed the stairs.
When she reached the top of the platform, she got down on her knees.
He held out his hand to her. She kissed it. He commanded her to rise.
Reaching out, he took hold of her panties, and pulled them down off her hips. The panties fluttered down to her ankles.
He licked his lips when he saw the loveliness of her naked pussy.
Sarah stepped out of her panties, leaving them on the floor.
My father asked, "Did your master inform you that my tastes are somewhat stronger than most men-and often painful to my slaves?"
Sarah said, "My master commands me to serve at your pleasure, lord, in all ways."
"I like this master of yours more and more."
Sun Feng's hand shot out, seizing her wrist. He pulled her down on his lap.
Sarah's round, naked, warm bottom pressed against his groin.
He wrapped his hand in her hair, pulling her head back. He fastened his mouth on hers, and kissed her roughly.
While he kissed her, he fondled her breasts. His long thin fingers kneaded the soft white bosom flesh, stroking and kneading it.
His caresses grew rougher. He inflicted little pinches on her breasts, causing Sarah to squeal and softly moan.
He pinched her nipples erect. I saw he was fascinated with the size of her breasts, as most men would be.
He took his mouth off hers, and moved it down to her bosom. He planted numerous wet kisses on her breasts, then licked them.
The bosom flesh rippled as his long pink tongue glided over it.
He shaped his lips into an O, and clamped them over a nipple. He sucked the nipple up between his lips, and chewed on it.
Her nipples were fat and swollen, throbbingly erect.
His hands caressed her stockinged thighs. At the tops of the stockings, the soft smooth flesh of her pink inner thighs oozed freely.
He fondled this flesh, then pinched and pulled it.
At last, he eased Sarah off his lap, and on to her feet. She was breathless from the vigorous and somewhat abusive treatment.
It could only excite her. Sarah was a submissive through and through.
When Sun Feng stood up, there was no mistaking the massive erection which lifted the front of his robe in an impressive bulge.
Taking Sarah by the hand, he led her down from the platform to the bondage horse.
The horse was one of his many devices of punishment and restraint. It was a carpenter's saw horse, padded with black leather.
It was a thick horizontal plank supported by two sets of vertical, V-shaped legs. Manacles and cuffs were bolted to the legs.
He commanded Sarah to bend forward over the horse. Her breasts popped free from the half-cups of the bra as she bent from the waist.
She bent so that her middle was draped across the bar, and her upper body hung down below it. My father chained her.
He was most aroused, and in a great hurry to subdue her. He knelt down and fastened a pair of thick cuffs to her wrists.
He moved behind her. Sarah spread her feet wide apart, so that they were close by the support legs.
Locks clicked into place as Sun Feng clamped thick cuffs around her ankles. Attached to the cuffs were short lengths of chain.
The chains were bolted down to the bondage horse themselves.
He went to the wall, and took down one of his whips. It was a cat-o'-nine-tails, and the leather thongs dangled as he returned to her.
He took up a stance behind her. He did not bother to gag her.
There was no need. This part of his palace was underground. Its walls were soundproofed. His men would never dare interfere with his painful pleasures.
Most of all, he loved to hear the screams of suffering women.
Tenderly he planted soft kisses on each of the cheeks of her buttocks.
Then he slashed his whip across them.
There was the ugly sound of leather slashing soft flesh. Sarah shrieked.
My father's soft chuckles lingered when her shrieks died away.
Sarah's quivering buttocks were scored with nine red thin wet lines.
My father is a most skilled whip master. It excited me to watch him.
I lifted my bottom from the chair, pulled up my skirt, and yanked my panties down to my knees. Sweat stung my eyes.
I put my hand between my legs, and played with my pussy as I watched the whipping.
Sarah's red face was contorted and red and shrieking. This was somewhat heavier discipline than she was accustomed.
She did not realize how lucky she was. Sun Feng was much cruder with his own slave girls. Sarah's whipping was a mild one.
Still, when at last he set aside his whip, her twitching bottom was criss-crossed with bloody red lines.
Sarah hung limp and drained on the bondage horse. Sweat plastered her hair down on her face, veiling it.
Fresh pain caused her to stiffen and gasp in agony as my father wiped her bottom clean. He wet a cloth with a stinging solution.
Sarah squirmed and twisted as the burning solution soaked into her cuts. There were over three dozen slashes on her buttocks.
My father laughed at her misery as he took off his robe.
This was not the first time I had looked upon my father's nakedness.
He was well into his middle age , but he was fit and trim. And his stiff penis was like the member of a much younger man.
He was long, thick, virile. His jutting cock bobbed as he moved behind her.
Sarah moaned as his fleshy cock head bumped her whipped bottom.
She moaned and groaned as Sun Feng rubbed his swollen cock head up and down her quivering pink pussy slit.
The head pushed the lips apart. Her membranes were dripping wet.
The whipping had made her suffer, yes. Her pain was real. I knew that Sun Feng would take her beyond what she thought were her limits.
But now that the pain of the whipping was lessened, Sarah was excited. She was a true slave.
Sun Feng leaned into her. Sarah's eyes snapped wide open when he entered her. All white surrounded her dark brown irises.
Her head jerked up, cording her neck muscles. His stiff red shaft sank deep into her pussy, making her groan.
He penetrated her swiftly, with one quick surging stroke. She whimpered as his hips slammed into her whipped behind.
The base of his shaft pressed against her flesh pussy lips.
His fingers, crooked and skeletal, wrapped around her broad pink hips.
His buttocks were tightly clenched as he thrust in and out of her.
Sarah's chains rattled as she jerked and writhed on the horse. She moaned and gasped and cried out as he pumped faster and harder.
I had to stifle a cry myself-the relentless fingering and fondling of my pussy had brought me to an intense orgasm.
As Sun Feng increased his speed, his cock became a blur of red motion, a thrusting rod of flesh which hammered her like a piston.
Sweat gleamed on his naked, clean shaven scalp.
He made a final lunge, burying his cock deep inside her.
He stopped thrusting. Cruel delight flickered over his face as he came.
Sarah whipped her head from side to side as he came inside her. Her long brown hair lashed against the legs of the bondage horse.
Sun Feng squeezed his eyes shut. He was a most controlled individual, but not even a man of his iron will could keep from moaning with pleasure.
Muscles twitched and flexed convulsively beneath the patterned stockings which sheathed her legs as the spurting penis filled her with semen.
He shuddered from the fierce and final throes of his orgasm.
He kept his erection planted deep inside her. A few minutes passed, during which there was only the hoarse rasping of Sun Feng panting for breath, and Sarah's soft sobbing moans-moans which mingled pain and pleasure.
At last, Sun Feng gave himself a final shake, to throw off the mood and feeling of delicious erotic warmth which filled him.
His eyes were pleasure-glazed slits, and his stern mouth was now slack and relaxed. He basked in the bliss of afterglow.
He pushed his hips back, pulling his erection out of her.
He gasped from the pleasure of his heated cock gliding over her slippery, semen-saturated membranes.
Her lips-her pussy lips-glowed a bright red rosy color, the result of the swift and surging strokes which had plowed her pussy.
Her labia were chafed and irritated from the force of his ardor.
They expanded outward as his knobbed cock head came clear of her pussy.
Despite the wrenching orgasm he had just had, the hardness of his penis was not diminished at all. It was redder and stiffer than ever.
My father is a lustful man, easily aroused, not so easily satisfied.
I, his daughter, have inherited this trait from him.
After a moment, his semen oozed from between her sore and swollen pussy lips. It trickled down the smooth bare thighs over the stocking tops.
Sun Feng's stiff penis bobbed as he went around to the front of her.
He grabbed her hair, and jerked her head up. Sarah looked up at him with pain-filled but adoring eyes. She was a fine slave girl.
His fleshy cock head bobbed beneath her nose. Sarah parted her lips, and stuck her tongue out. He held his cock to her.
She licked it clean. He moved closer, so she could lick up and down his shaft.
Her oral activities merely inflamed his already hot desires.
Sarah must have thought that he would take her by mouth. In this she was mistaken, as she realized when he once more moved behind her.
He took the cap off an antique, elaborately carved green jade jar. A sweet smell rose from the gooey ointment in the jar.
Sarah hissed with pain as he parted her whipped buttocks. Sun Feng had cleaned the blood off the abused ass cheeks, but they still were marked with the numerous tracks of the cat's leather thongs.
Yes, she whimpered and moaned with pain but her nipples were stiffer than ever, and there was a begging, lustful quality to her cries.
Sun Feng lubricated her bottom for penetration.
His long, crooked yellow fingers were like dried twigs. He smeared the wet, sticky ointment in the crack of her ass.
He lavished the stuff on the unwinking brown eye of her anus.
Sarah squirmed and sighed as he poked her tiny anal opening, filling the wrinkled brown folds with ointment, stretching them out.
Her high heeled feet were chained to the horse. Her long legs were spread wide open. She was bent over the bar, so that her dangling, manacled hands almost, but not quite, touched the floor.
It was a most painful position, one which was only slightened by the thickly padded black leather which covered the bar.
Semen glistened on the sore, red lips of her irritated pussy, which could be seen beneath the red, scored moons of her buttocks.
The anus was so very small-it would be most amusing to see my father stretch and spread it with the fleshy battering ram of his erection.
He was kind-he greased his erection before entering her. His stiff red cock glimmered with the oily substance.
He pressed the tip of his penis against the brown hole. Sarah groaned and squealed and sobbed as her ring was stretched.
Tight as she was in her behind-and that narrow ass of hers had not been fucked all that many times-there was no denying my father.
His cock head pried the ring open, parting the wrinkled folds, expanding her dime-sized opening until he could fit his cock into it.
Sarah shrieked as his cock head was stuffed inside her.
Since he had already come, the urgency was taken off from his desire, and he could slowly and leisurely fuck her ass.
This he did.
Sarah did not relax after his cock head squeezed into her rectum, but she suffered less, now that the widest part of his penis had entered her.
My father fondled her naked hips, running his fingertips along the shining pink skin, so different from his dark yellow flesh.
He leaned into her. She was impaled on his cock. Her narrow rectum was stretched to accommodate the fleshy intruder.
Her gasps mingled with his grunts to form a duet. His throbbing shaft sank into her hot pit, coring her, filling her.
Finally, he entered her as deep as she could take him. Sun Feng is cruel, but he never damages his slaves too badly.
Now that he had measured the depth of her anal pit with his rod of flesh, he began to thrust back and forth with deep, slow, thrilling strokes.
When he pulled back, he left only his cock head inside her. He would all but twirl her on the tip of his penis.
Then, eager to once more bury his erection in her, he would push forward, penetrating her, making her thrash against her bonds.
After he had set up a steady, slow, in-and-out rhythm, he reached under her hips, and put his fingers on her clitoris.
This stimulation caused slave Sarah to thrash as much as her chains would permit-the sensual contact was awesome.
Sun Feng massaged her clitoris as he fucked her in the ass.
Sarah moaned with pleasure, now-pleasure compounded with pain, to be sure. But is not that the most intense pleasure of all?
After a long time of thrusting, Sun Feng finally came inside her ass.
He had timed his orgasm to coincide with the one which his fingers were stroking into her pulsing pussy.
Sarah shrieked with ecstasy and agony at the same time that his stiff cock, planted deep, spurted thick gushing semen in her vitals.
Her body went rigid at the instant of orgasm. She shook convulsively, then cried like a little girl.
At last she slumped limply in her chains, sighing heavily.
Sun Feng chuckled. "Now-will you tell me who your mysterious master is?"
Before Sarah could speak, I called out: "You need look no further than your own daughter, most honorable father!"
His penis was still deep in her. He whipped his head to the side, just in time to see my emerge from the hidden passage.
Few times in my life have I seen my father surprised, but this was one of them.
His mind was lightning-fast. He took in all the details-Sarah, me, the secret passage which he had thought only he knew of.
I thought he might be furious-instead, he threw back his head and laughed loud and long. "What a daughter I have created!"
"Like father, like daughter." I took my rightful place beside him.
* * *
WARLORD'S WHIPPED WOMEN
CHAPTER ONE
My nipples were going to be pierced-but that was not the worst of it.
I was going to be branded, too. Then my slave status would be complete.
I was in a modern-day torture chamber. It was a room of black stone, in the dungeons which lay below the castle of Warlord Tarkin.
I was in most stringent and heavy bondage. The gag in my mouth reduced my hysterical pleadings to muffled nonsense sounds.
The gag was most diabolical, and reflected the sinister tastes of the Warlord., Thick leather straps were buckled around the lower half of my face. The gag was attached to the inside of the straps.
The gag was made of warm black rubber, and was shaped like a penis.
It was a dildo gag. Only a few weeks ago, when I lived safely and sanely in the United States, a sheltered child of privilege, I never even dreamed such devices existed. Since then, I had been cast into total slavery.
The dildo gag was crammed between my jaws. The rubber penis had a fat bullet-shaped head, and a thick, short, stubby shaft.
The size of the gag pushed my smooth cheeks outward. My jaws throbbed and ached from being unable to close because of the dildo.
The leather straps of the gag were buckled behind the back of my head.
Deborah Hama is my name-or was.
In this place I am only one more suffering slave girl, and have no name, and no identity other than that which my masters give me.
I was not sure what time it was. Rarely did I see the sun or the outside world, since I was kept prisoner in the dungeons.
Of course, there were no clocks to gauge the passage of time. I guessed that it was night, but I had no way of knowing.
The walls were made of black stone, dripping with green slime. Flickering torches provided the dim light, casting eerie shadows.
I was not alone in the torture chamber.
Warlord Tarkin sat close to me. He is a bull of a man, powerfully built, fierce and extreme in his passion for pain.
He is in his late forties. His face is wide, with deep-set slanted eyes which are always glaring and suspicious.
His neck is a bull neck, a column of flesh. His shoulders are corded with massive slabs of muscle, his torso is barrel-shaped.
He wore a black leather vest and baggy yellow breeches. A red sash was wound around his waist. His feet were covered with soft black ankle boots.
He spent much time in his dungeons of pain, and each cell was equipped with a throne-like chair for him.
He sat on his throne now, watching me with interest. A lust for cruelty glinted in his dark, brooding eyes.
He drank out of a human skull. The top of it had been removed, and the inside of it was silvered. It was filled with strong drink.
His woman sat curled at his feet. If it was possible, she was even crueler than he was.
Lota was her name.
She was about thirty years old, and a great beauty. She was basically Chinese, but there were Russian and English ancestors in her bloodline.
She sat on the floor at the Warlord's feet. Her legs were folded, and her chin rested on her knees as she hugged her long legs.
Her hair was shiny like black silk. It was cut very close to her scalp.
Her face was exquisite. She was a celebrated beauty, but there was no mistaking the lines of cruelty in her delicate face.
Her almond-shaped eyes were dark and hot. They smoldered as they stared at the terrible position I was in.
I sat on a very special chair of restraint.
I was naked, except for the various bondage equipment which was fastened to my body. My mouth was not the only part of me which was penetrated.
As I looked at the Warlord and Lota, I could almost see myself in their eyes.
They saw me-a twenty-three year old Chinese-American girl.
I am of full-blooded Chinese descent, but I was born in the USA. I have lived there all my life, and I am a full-fledged citizen.
I should never have left America. But foolishly I came to Hong Kong during a summer vacation, to visit some relatives of mine.
This was my undoing. In all honesty, I am considered very fair of face and figure, and do not blush to consider myself a beauty.
Alas, my good looks were the cause of my downfall.
The Orient is not like America. It is oldold.
Hong Kong wears a modern face. There is a bustling business district, filled with tall buildings and modern offices.
But, not far from it are the miserable hovels of poverty-stricken peasants who live in much the same way as they did a thousand years ago.
The city has a new face, but the old ways persist below the surface.
I was seen by one of the Warlord's agents. He has men who do nothing but seek out fresh young beauties to serve as his slaves.
It was my great misfortune to be kidnapped by such a man. In short order, I was eagerly acquired by Warlord Tarkin.
The nightmare began.
I lived a life of total slavery. Pain was the penalty for disobedience.
My body was no longer my own, but belonged to Tarkin, and those he demanded that I serve. They sexually used and abused me.
In a few short weeks, I went from a naive and sheltered young lady, to a woman who has every part of her body penetrated and abused.
Even worse pains lay ahead for me-such as the piercing and the branding.
I am somewhat taller than the average Oriental. I stand slim and straight, with full firm breasts, a narrow waist, and rounded hips.
I was no virgin when I was kidnapped, but my experiences in love were few.
My face is oval-shaped, with high cheekbones, sunken cheeks, wide flaring nostrils, deep brown eyes, and wide lips.
My hair frames my face, and brushes my shoulders.
Needless to say,; I showed the fear which was in me.
My slanted, almond-shaped eyes were red from crying-crying to no avail, for the bitter tears of slaves only amuse the masters.
It was cool in the dungeon, but cold sweat poured down my face, making it shine.
The chair I was! chained to was a sinister device. It was old, and made from thick wooden beams, with thick arms and a high back.
My forearms rested on top of the chair arms. Rested is not perhaps the most accurate description. Actually, they were cuffed in place.
Thin but tough metal bracelets circled my thin wrists, pinning my arms down. The flesh was red and raw from my futile struggles.
I squirmed with extreme discomfort from the infamous thing which was inside me.
This chair had been modified to serve the perverted tastes of the Warlord.
Rising up from the seat was a long, thick dildo. The fat round base of it was securely attached, and the dildo rose straight up.
When I was put in the chair, I had been lowered kicking and screaming on the dildo. Its sinister rubber head and shaft gleamed with oil.
One of the Warlord's masked servants held me. Except for Tarkin himself, all the males who work in his dungeons wear sinister black hoods which cover their heads.
This one was a big brute. Coarse hairs were thickly matted on his fat chest, which smelled rankly of his dried sweat.
He had smeared the lubricating oil on the dildo. He was very strong, and was able to lift me bodily with no sign of strain.
He lowered my down on the chair.
I was gagged then, so I could not scream. I gurgled sickeningly in the back of my throat as the dildo head touched my pussy.
My nipples are light brown in color. My labia are dusky, coral colored.
My pussy lips quivered as the dildo rudely prodded them. Oil smeared on the labia as the dildo head split and spread them.
The masked man held me so that the dildo head pushed my pussy lips apart and lodged safely inside me.
Once it was in me, he let gravity do the rest. As he lowered me slowly on the seat, the long thick shaft filled my pussy.
It was very thick. I was grateful that they had bothered to lubricate it, rather than just forcing me to take it dry inside me.
I was dry inside my pussy. Fear made me dry.
I was lowered slowly, which was also a blessing, since I could have been very painfully damaged by being forced to take it all in quickly.
Even so, groans and gasps were forced out of me. When at last my naked bottom rested on the hard seat of the chair, the dildo was fully inside me.
Once I was penetrated, the rest of the restraints were put on.
As I said before, my arms were manacled to the chair arms. My feet, too, were chained in place. They were cuffed to the chair legs.
I squirmed helplessly. The dildo was very large, and stretched the inside of my tender pussy. Bitter tears of pain blurred my vision.
My sufferings were intended to amuse the Warlord and his cruel mistress, and amused they certainly were.
Lota wore a black silk gown decorated with embroidered blood-red dragons.
I hated her-hate her still-but I must admit that her body is perfection.
She is thirty, but her physique is that of a young, nubile maiden. Indeed, there is something child-like in her face-but not her body.
Her breasts are full, firm, conical, and sharply pointed. They were fitted into the twin black cups of the black gown.
The cups were supported by thin shoulder straps. Her shoulders were bare, and the neckline plunged so that most of her bosom was on display.
It is a gorgeous bosom, and the cruel bitch loves to show it off.
Her breasts jiggled and trembled. Her nipples were unusually long, and they were clearly outlined against the fabric.
Her body is willowy, with a narrow waist and wide hips and long legs.
Her physique is very much like mine. I think this is one of reasons why Lota has singled me out, and made me her special pet among the slave girls.
Lota loves no one but herself. She serves the Warlord, and warms his bed, but she does not love him, although she pretends to.
Lota loves only Lota. When she makes love to me, who looks very much like her, it is the next best thing to making love to herself.
Of course, "making love" is an inaccurate term for what she does to me, and what she forces me to do to her.
Love has nothing to do with it. It is only lust-lust for the pleasures of the body, and lust for my pain and suffering.
She smirked as she watched me squirm on the bondage seat.
The black silk gown clung to her curves, revealing every fold and fissure and mound of her satin-smooth flesh.
Her sandaled feet poked out from beneath the hem of her robe. Her feet were very tiny, like the feet of a child.
Her toenails were painted gold, as were her long, curved fingernails.
Her long-fingered hand rested on the Warlord's muscular thigh. She rubbed it caressingly, exciting him with her touch.
He gave the signal for the piercing to begin.
His masked retainer came to me holding a sinister clamping device.
It consisted of two long pieces of narrow, rectangular wood, held together by a pair of long metal screws which ran through the wood at right angles.
This sinister device frightened me. Intellectually I knew that there was no escape from this chair, but that did not stop me from trying.
I tore against the metal cuffs which held me a prisoner. My naked breasts bobbed and jiggled wildly from my thrashing.
All that I succeeded in doing was tearing red, bleeding gashes in the skin of my wrists and ankles. Those metal cuffs were too much for me.
Additionally, my pussy throbbed with new and agonizing pain, the result of the irritating chafing of the dildo against my pussy membranes.
Loud laughter sounded in the torture chamber as the Warlord roared with mirth at my desperate, useless, foolish struggles.
Lota laughed along with him. His laughter was a deep bellowing roar from the pit of his belly-her laughter was silvery, musical.
The masked man stood at the side of my bondage chair, so he would not get in front of me, and so obstruct the Warlord and Lota's view of my agony.
I heard the masked man chuckle thickly beneath his mask. His hand was large with thick strangler's fingers, and covered with black hair.
He gripped my right breast and squeezed it so tightly that I almost fainted.
My flesh is a glowing, lustrous, shining shade of deep yellow-brown amber. Not even my prolonged captivity away from the sun can harm it.
But my breast turned white as that cruel masked man's fingers dug into it.
I squirmed on the chair. My nostrils widened as I gasped in pain.
The masked man pulled my fleshy mound away from my chest bone, lifting the breast out and stretching it, distending it.
More pain shot through my bosom as he stuffed it beneath the wooden clamps.
My soft, yielding flesh altered its shape as it was pushed between the clamps, which were rigid and merciless.
My breast was a prisoner of the clamp, in bondage to it.
The masked man turned the thumbscrews at the top of the clamp. There were squeaking sounds as the clamps slowly closed even tighter.
My full, rounded breast was stretched out to the sides as the clamps closed down on it. I whimpered with fear and pain.
My breast was pale white. A network of blue veins, thin and delicate, became visible beneath the flesh of the breast.
Pains shot through my tortured breast, pains which left me weak, quivering, and shaking like I had fever chills.
Hot and cold flashes ran through me. I thought I might pass out.
Alas, I was not so fortunate. I remained fully, agonizingly conscious.
Under the clamp's fearful pressure, my nipple became erect. This was not the normal stiffness of sexual arousal.
The throbbing, puckered nipple expanded to twice its normal size. It was raw, angry.
The masked man stepped back, examining his work. He liked it-found it good.
Lota rose from her seat at the feet of the Warlord in one graceful, fluid motion.
She requested that she be permitted to pierce me.
Tarkin gladly gave her his permission. She came to me slowly, gliding effortlessly across the floor, her lush hips swaying.
She smiled at my plight. Mockingly she smoothed back the strands of hair which sweat had plastered down on my face.
She patted my head, as if to reassure me. I was not fooled by her seeming mercy.
I knew Lota too well to expect any mercy or pity from her.
On a table near the, chair was a tray. The top of the tray was covered with velvet cushions.
Sitting on the velvet cushions were a variety of nipple rings.
Lota made a great show of picking through them to select the pair for me.
She lifted ring after ring, holding it up to the flickering torchlight, then holding it next to my flesh, to see how it would look.
All this time, the pain in my clamped breast got worse and worse.
That, of course, was the reason why Lota seemed to take so long in choosing the nipple rings. It seemed like an eternity.
Finally, the Finicky bitch selected a pair of rings to her liking.
She showed them to Warlord Tarkin, who gave his approval.
The rings were bands of gold, similar to wedding rings. They were about the size in diameter of a twenty-five cent piece.
Lota brandished the ring under my eyes. Light glinted off the gold, so that I could see it even through my tears.
There was a tiny catch at the side of the ring. Lota flicked it open with the tip of her long Fingernail.
It had a pair of sharp spiked points inside it, sharp as needles.
By now, my breast had all but gone numb with pain. I tried to sit as still and motionless as was humanly possible for me to do.
My slightest movement caused new thrills of agony to shoot through my breast. Even my breathing caused it to ache.
Lota uncapped a porcelain bottle. From it she poured a sterilizing fluid, which smelled something like medicinal alcohol.
It was cold as it poured over my breast, wetting my nipple. The fluid glimmered on the sore, swollen, rawly throbbing point of flesh.
Lota grinned as she pressed the point of the needle against my nipple.
Suddenly, she pushed it all the way through my nipple, so that the point came out the other side.
My right nipple now was pierced. Believe me, it was not like having the lobe of one's ear pierced in order to wear ear rings.
An ear lobe is not a sensitive nipple.
For once, nature was merciful to me. When Lota sadistically shoved the pin point through my nipple, I fainted dead away.
I was not out for long-less than a few minutes at the most.
I came to as the masked man was unscrewing the clamp from my right breast.
My nipple was practically numb, in shock. But I could feel the presence of that cold, hard, metallic ring running through it.
I felt it even before I blinked away enough of my tears to see it.
Yes, I was pierced. A golden ring ran through my nipple now. There were ruby red droplets of blood on either side of the ring, where it pierced me.
My agony was only half-complete-I had one unpierced nipple.
But not for long.
The masked man gripped my left breast, and forced the soft, warm, vulnerable flesh between the clamps.
I will not bore you by describing in detail the process by which my left nipple was pierced. It was the same as before.
The pain of being pierced-the awful shock of it-was no less than it had been the first time. There was only one difference.
This time, I did not faint when my nipple was pierced. I remained terrifyingly awake and conscious as the operation was performed.
It took some time for me to stop shivering in total agony.
When at last I mastered myself enough to stop weeping hysterically-no easy task-I looked down at my poor, abused breasts.
A pair of cold nipple rings glinted goldenly at the tips of my tortured breasts.
I knew that the nipple rings would provide the Warlord and his woman with many new opportunities to inflict pain on me.
I did not have much time to brood. There was another, much more immediately menacing pain which threatened me now.
Responding to a harsh command of Warlord Tarkin, the masked man took a branding iron down from the wall.
My muffled groans and gasps increased to a peak of fear.
Not far from me was an iron brazier on a tripod. The bowl was filled with red, glowing coals. I could feel the heat of them.
The masked man put the branding iron's tip in the coals. Embers and ashes flew as he buried the brand beneath the hot coals.
While the brand was heating up, I was released from the chair.
This was not done from pity-it was done so that I could be branded.
Warlord Tarkin was highly stimulated by what had gone before, as indeed he always became aroused by the sufferings of helpless slaves.
His legs were spread open, his feet rested on the floor. Even though his trousers were baggy, they could not hide his bulging erection.
The Warlord summoned Lota to him. His faithful female dog came running, her breasts jiggling and bouncing in the cups of the gown.
Her nipples were throbbingly erect. As she hurried to her master, a strap slipped off her shoulder and fell down her arm.
This caused one of her breasts to be exposed. Her long nipple was a brown thimble jutting from the tip of the pear-shaped breast.
The Warlord rose, standing up. He pointed an imperious finger at the floor.
He had no need to speak to command. Lota knew his signal, and dropped to her knees in response to it.
Her back was to me. I was glad. I knew that it would disappoint her, not to be able to see me being branded.
Her fingers plucked open the knot of his belted red sash. She pulled his baggy black trousers down to the floor.
His stiff, massive erection-larger than life, as was the rest of that burly brute-bobbed in front of Lota's face.
It looked like a club of flesh sprouting from his hips. His testicles were like the balls of a stud bull-swollen, hard, heavy.
His heated cock head rubbed the smooth soft silken flesh of her face.
Lota wet her lips with her tongue, then opened her mouth wide to receive him.
He guided his cock into her mouth. His long, thick, swollen red shaft sank deep into her mouth, as she wrapped her lips around it.
While this occurred, I was strapped face down to a table. The masked man laughed as he flipped up my nipple rings so they would lay flat against my flesh.
I almost passed out from the pain of putting my weight on my breasts. I wish that I had. But I remained conscious as I was strapped down.
Lota's head bobbed wildly back and forth, as she sucked her master's cock. Each time he thrust into her, his cock was redder and hotter.
There was a hissing sound as the masked man pressed the red-hot brand against my buttock. My nostrils were filled with the smell of my own burning flesh.
The pain? It was unbearable. The merciful blackness of unconsciousness closed in on me, just as the Warlord came inside Lota's loving mouth.
CHAPTER TWO
Lota was raping my pussy with her dildo.
One week had passed since the night of horror when my nipples were pierced and ringed, and my bottom was branded.
In that time, I had more or less gotten used to the nipple rings.
It is odd how a person can get used to just about anything-particularly when she has no choice but to accept what has happened to her.
I was almost resigned to my new life as a slave girl, a pleasure slut.
The pierced nipples stopped really hurting after a day or two. For a while longer than that, I was highly aware of the presence of the rings.
They were cold metal, alien, hard against my soft warm flesh.
Time passed, and their presence retreated to the back of my mind.
I only was painfully reminded of them when they were used-as they often were-to inflict pain on me, and make me suffer.
The brand was quite another thing.
It was a circular design the size of a silver dollar in width. It was the personal emblem and insignia of Warlord Tarkin's clan.
It had been seared into the soft flesh at the bottom of my left buttock.
The brand was ugly. It was depressed into the flesh, so that it was sunken into it. It ached me terribly for days.
Now I was permanently marked. I would bear this brand for the rest of my life.
I could not help but weep whenever I looked at the brand which marked my once-smooth buttock.
For the first few days after the branding, the pain of it was a constant ache which made me feel like crawling out of my skin.
Finally it subsided into a dull, throbbing pain, which eventually faded into the constant background of aches and pains I suffered.
The throbbing died down on the night that I was taken to Lota's room.
It was a rounded, circular room at the top of one of the castle's four towers. An arched window was set in the side of it.
Warlord Tarkin lived on a rocky, lonely, isolated island in the middle of the sea, which was a hundred feet below the window.
There was no chance of escape-I tried not to even think about it.
Lota soon gave me much pain, to take my mind off such matters.
Once more I was reminded of the presence of those golden nipple rings, since Lota used them as part of her painful abuse of me.
She was dressed like a pirate queen. In truth, the Warlord was a modern-day pirate, and she was his mistress.
She ruled us slaves as absolutely as any tyrant ever held sway over the bodies of helpless innocent victims.
She wore a costume of black leather, decorated with silver spangles and studs. It was made up of a vest and short skirt.
The vest was sleeveless, and laced up the front. It had a plunging neckline, and of course she wore no bra beneath it.
The vest revealed more than it concealed. Almost all of her breasts could be seen, except for thin strips of black leather which covered her nipples.
Her nipples were hardly hidden, since they jutted against the black leather as thimbles of flesh.
The leather was soft and thin, and molded to the curves of her body.
There were silver studs running along the seams. The light was glintingly reflected from them. When she moved, she seemed to shed rays of light.
Fastened around her slender, swan-like neck was a bracelet of pale green jade. Rings of the same stone hung from her ear lobes.
She wore jade rings in her ears-I wore golden rings in my nipples.
Thick black leather bands were fastened around her bare upper arms.
The vest reached down to her slender waistline. Below it, she wore a tight skirt of the same black leather fabric.
The skirt was very short, its hem coming down to barely cover the tops of her smooth, rounded amber-brown thighs.
Beneath the skin-tight fabric, her lush buttocks rolled and indolently swayed as she swung her wide hips.
As she moved, the skirt rode up, and it could be seen that she wore no panties or undergarments, but was naked beneath the skirt.
I could see the tangled black furry triangle of her pubic bush, and the thin, soft delicate lips of her pussy.
How terrible that one so lovely could be so cruel!
Her long lean legs were covered with thigh-high black leather boots. These had high heels, and sharply pointed toes.
I suffered in the painful, punishing bondage she had put me in.
The nipple rings, which fascinated Lota, were the center of the bondage.
I was standing. My feet were jammed into high heeled shoes with six-inch stiletto heels which were like stilts.
I had almost never worn even modestly high heels before my enslavement.
I was a decent girl, and had always dressed modestly and quietly.
But Tarkin, and his mistress Lota, both had a fetish for exotic garments, on themselves, and on their slaves as well.
The shoes had narrow pointed toes which cramped my feet, pinching and aching them. I tottered unsteadily on the high, nigh heels.
My hips and bottom and crotch were covered by a pair of lacy black panties.
These panties had a split-crotch in front and in back. In front, the lacy panties were divided down the center.
Lace fringes rubbed my bush and sensitive pussy lips. There were satin bows running along them, holding the panty crotch closed.
There was a similar slit running down the center of my ass cheeks in back, too. This, too, was secured in place by small satin ribbons.
Apart from the panties and the high heels-and my nipple rings and the many bonds on me-I was naked. Naked for Lota's pleasure.
And my pain.
She had seen to that. I stood in the center of the tower room, balancing unsteadily on those high heels, trying not to fall.
My feet were spread wider than shoulder-width apart. This spread my legs, opening my pussy and my anus to assault.
Locked around my slender ankles were thick, padded leather cuffs.
Between the cuffs was a black metal spreader bar. This bar was shaped like part of a broomstick, except that it was metal, not wood.
Both ends were securely attached to the ankle cuffs. The bar prevented me from closing my legs the slightest fraction of an inch.
My hands were tied behind my back. The ropes cut into the tender flesh of my wrists. My shoulder joints throbbed with pain.
I was bent forward from the waist, at a 90 degree angle.
Here was where the real pain came in.
A thin but tough leather thong tied my nipple rings together. The golden rings stood out straight from my trembling bosom.
The cord was very short, so it caused both of my breasts to be squeezed together, exerting constant pulling pain on the nipples.
This, however, was only the beginning. A second, longer cord had been tied to the center of the cord which bound the nipple rings.
This second cord, or thong, was a bit thicker and tougher than the other.
It branched off into a Y-shape, so that it split into two lengths. Each of these lengths was tied to one of my ankles.
Now you will begin to understand my painful plight.
I was bound so that I must continue to bend forward, and could not straighten up without sending agonizing pain through my nipples.
The cords were tied so that there was not even a few inches of slack in them. I was forced to remain in that bent position.
The slightest move on my part to straighten up would pull the taut cords against my nipple rings.
If I was foolish enough to straighten up too suddenly and violently, the rings might well be torn from my nipples.
It was most difficult to maintain that punishing position.
After only a few minutes in it, my leg muscles were taut and tensed. Pain shot through my calves and thighs.
If my hands had been tied in front of me, I might have been able to rest them on the floor, for some added support.
But since they were bound behind my back, they could do nothing to help me.
Sweat rolled off my face in fat drops which spattered on the stone floor.
Lota let me suffer in that position for a few moments without doing anything to me. Just being bound that way was pain enough.
She was only softening me up for the pain to come.
When my tearful pleadings and soft sobbing moans told her that I was ready for the next phase, she took a whipping rod down from the wall.
There was a wooden rack on the wall. Dozens of pegs jutted from it. Hanging from those pegs were whips, rods, canes, and other devices.
This rod was made of whalebone, and was over three feet long. It was white like ivory, and flexible and whippy.
It made a deadly whooshing sound as Lota swung it through empty air.
She smiled cruelly as she took up a position behind me.
"Sing for me, nightingale," she mocked.
She started slowly-at first.
I flinched when she rubbed the smooth rod against the taut and trembling backs of my naked thighs.
She rubbed it teasingly and tantalizingly. I had to keep myself as motionless as possible-no easy task.
My back ached. My muscles were sore, and I had only been there a very few moments.
Lota ran the whipping rod up my thighs, to my bottom. My ass cheeks rippled as the long rod passed over it.
Lota pressed the whippy tip of the rod against my pussy lips.
I cried softly as she prodded my soft and sensitive labia with it. Each tiny move I made-even my breathing-made my stretched nipples ache.
Lota soon tired of such painless games.
She slapped the rod against my backside, lightly at first, then harder and harder, until she was seriously whipping me.
The rod felt like a hot wire as it slashed across my buttocks.
There were cutting sounds as the rod struck my flesh. Its flexibility made it curl almost caressingly around my smooth behind.
Almost caressingly-in appearance. In reality, it hurt me terribly.
I was denied the small comfort of weeping. To sob would cause my chest to rise and fall, and so move my breasts.
That would send pain through my nipples-so I dared not sob.
It was torture for me to try and keep my balance on those high heels. My legs were trembling, and Lota was just warming up.
By now I was almost used to whippings. I had had my share and more in the Warlord's castle, at his hands, and the hands of others.
Lota murmured appreciatively as I struggled and stifled my sobs. My one and only thought was to keep from suddenly straightening up, or falling.
She whipped me harder and harder now. My backside was a mass of throbbing pain, a dull ache shot through with bright hot flashes of pain.
My nipples were swollen raw. I prayed that I could hold out.
Lota was excited. She put her free hand, the one which held no rod, under her skirt, and rubbedjier pussy while she whipped me.
The pain mounted. I was screaming for mercy. My shrieks rang loudly.
That was just what Lota loved to hear-a symphony of suffering.
Finally, she put the rod aside. My punished bottom continued to ache and twitch as though the whipping still continued.
My bottom was a mass of throbbing heat. Hot tears flooded my eyes. They rolled down my red and moaning face.
The rod clattered as it hit the floor. It had slipped from Lota's hand.
This was because she had halted the whipping, in order to masturbate herself to a climax with both hands.
Her skirt was bunched up around her waist in a circle of black leather.
She was naked from her navel to the tops of her thigh-high boots.
Her right hand slipped inside her leather vest. She cupped her breast, squeezed it, and pinched her nipple roughly.
Her other hand was a blur of motion on her pussy.
Her fingers writhed over the quivering pussy lips. She rubbed them so roughly that they were red and swollen and irritated.
She spread her booted legs, firmly planting her high heels on the stone floor.
Her fingertips zeroed in on her clitoris. I knew that it was a round pink marble of flesh, since I had tongued it many, many times.
She rotated her fingers on her clitoris while she pinched her nipples.
Her face was shining with sweat. Her mouth was open and moaning. Her eyes were dark, glittering, slanted slits.
The rounded tops of her breasts rose and fell as she breathed deeply, panting and gasping for air.
There was a wailing quaver at the end of each breath she took. Her cries were mixed and mingled with my own weeping.
I prayed she would orgasm soon, before my own strength gave out.
I feared that if I lost my balance and toppled to the floor-which was a very real possibility-the rings would rip out of my nipples.
My legs were stiff and cramping, as though I had been running non-stop for hours. They were throbbing columns of agony.
The rod had cut over two dozen red slashes on my buttocks, but the pain of that was minor-nothing compared to my legs and nipples.
Lota rubbed her pussy faster and harder. Suddenly, she cried out.
Have you ever heard alley cats mating? Such fearful screeches and yowlings they make when they couple and mate!
That was what Lota sounded like as she orgasmed-a cat in heat.
She shivered. She shuddered. Her face was contorted by ecstasy.
It was a savage ecstasy indeed, since it had been fired and furthered by the pain of an innocent, helplessly suffering victim-me.
She leaned forward, as though she might vomit. She closed her bare, sweating upper thighs against her hand.
Her breasts flopped out of the leather vest as she doubled forward.
Her thighs held her wet hand against her climaxing pussy as she slowly folded her booted legs and dropped to her knees.
As the force of her orgasm shook her, she closed her eyes and lowered her moaning head until her forehead rested on the cool stones.
She knelt there, moaning as her orgasmic convulsions rocked her.
I moaned too-with agony, not ecstasy.
Lota gasped as the heat of afterglow billowed through her flesh. Her deep hisses of pleasure sounded like escaping steam.
There was a tremor in the thigh muscle of my left leg-a spasm of pain.
It was like being stabbed in the thigh with a hot knife.
I had been in this position for so long that my legs were cramping up.
The shocking pain devastated me. I teetered unsteadily on those awful high heels, swaying from side to side.
For one hideous instant, I thought that I would fall.
I screamed.
Before I could topple over, Lota took her hand out from between her legs, reached up, and grabbed my hips.
The dizzying instant of vertigo, when I was positive that I would fall, passed.
I tearfully, hysterically begged Lota to spare me.
She sighed heavily. She was cross that I could be so insensitive as to distract her from her orgasmic afterglow.
She tossed her head, freeing hair from her wet face.
"Calm yourself, slave," she hissed. "Possess yourself in patience."
She crawled to where she could untie the knots of the leather thongs tied to my nipple rings. Her long fingernails plucked the cords open.
Strands fell away from the nipple rings, freeing them.
I shuddered with sweet relief. As soon as the thongs fell away from my nipples, I straightened up, rising to my full height.
I should not have done that so quickly.
Since I was bent forward from the waist, the blood rushed to my head when I stood up straight. Lights danced before my eyes.
I surely would have fallen flat on my face if not for Lota.
Do not delude yourself that she did so because she was merciful. She merely did not want him to fall flat on my face.
That might have broken my nose or jaw or skull. Then my loveliness would have been spoiled, so that I would have been of no use to her.
Or I might even have broken my neck from the crash, and so escaped my slavery by death. But Lota would not let me escape so easily.
Her arms gripped me like bands of iron. For all the satin-smooth softness of her perfect body, there was real whipcord strength in it.
She caught me and lowered me down to the stone floor. I landed none too gently, but it was nothing compared to what my fall would have been.
There was a roaring in my ears. It took me some time to realize that it was the sound of the furious pounding of my heart.
The spreader bar which was cuffed to my ankles kept me from closing my legs.
I stretched out flat on the floor, on my belly. My nipple rings were flipped up, so that they lay flat and cold on my flesh.
The floor was cool. I lay sprawled on it like a drowning swimmer suddenly washed up on the beach. I gasped for breath.
In my tortured condition, I was only dimly aware of Lota rising to her feet.
Her high heels clicked against the stone floor as she crossed the floor.
After a moment, she returned to me, holding something in her hand: a dildo.
Her fingers plucked open the laces which held her black leather vest closed. She pulled the vest off her torso.
Her lush breasts tumbled free, jiggling and rippling as the restraint of the vest was taken from them.
Her brown nipples were stiff and jutted from her soft breasts.
Sweat shone on her body. She opened the fastenings at her hip which held her skirt closed, and took it off.
She let it drop casually and carelessly to the floor. There would always be one slave or another to pick up after her.
The dildo was flesh colored. It was long and thick and streamlined, with a fat bullet-shaped head.
Straps were attached to the base of the dildo.
Lota was naked, except for her jewelry and her thigh-high boots. Her pussy lips were red and chafed from the rough handling she had given them.
They were wet and glistening from the juices which had oozed from inside her slit.
She strapped the dildo on her lean hips. The artificial erection looked doubly obscene jutting from her womanly hips.
The dildo bobbed and jiggled as it rose from her crotch.
She leaned over me. She hooked her forearm under my tummy, and pulled me up so that I knelt with my bottom raised high.
I leaned forward, my forehead pressing the stones of the floor.
Lota knelt down behind me. Animal that she was, she could not even wait to get me in a bed or on a mat, but must take me right on the floor.
She unknotted the tiny satin bows which held the split-crotch of the panties together. Lace brushed my quivering pussy lips.
She reached inside the open flaps of the sheer, lacy panties, and smeared her saliva on my pussy lips, and inside them.
This was the only lubrication I would have for the penetration.
The fat dildo head prodded my pussy. Here was no fleshy, warm wedge of a real erection.
The rubber was hard, not pliant, and cool on my flesh.
I did not care what she did to me. Anything was better than being held a prisoner in the terrible bondage I suffered before.
I cried out from the roughness with which the dildo prodded my soft and sensitive labia, as it rudely wedged them to the sides.
Her leather covered legs scraped against the stones as she inched forward.
The dildo head split and spread my pussy lips as it jammed into them. Lota stuffed it into me, making me groan.
When the head and an inch or two of the shaft were securely planted inside me, Lota wrapped her hands around my trembling hips.
She rocked her hips forward, stabbing my tender membranes with the dildo.
Fresh tears were squeezed from my wide eyes as she plunged that dildo into me. The saliva helped lubricate it a little, but only a little.
What did she care? I was the one who suffered. To her, the only reason I existed was to provide her with amusing moments like this.
With a few short fast thrusts, she worked the length of the dildo deep into my pussy, corkscrewing it into me.
I knelt there on the floor, grateful to do nothing but be raped by her dildo. It was much less painful than most of her other "amusements"
Lota thrust in and out of me. The dildo glided over my pussy membranes, which thankfully began to lubricate in self-protection.
As she thrust in and out, back and forth, my pussy moistened and heated up.
While she held my hips, she ran her fingers over the still sore and tender brand mark which was burned into my bottom.
She reached under my chest and tugged painfully on my golden nipple rings, in order to force me to respond to her surging thrusts.
I was forced to rock my hips back and forth while she raped me with her dildo. She reached under my hips, and fingered my clitoris while she fucked me.
She was skilled, and brought me to orgasm, but I took no pleasure in it.
CHAPTER THREE
I was being raped by a dwarf.
His name was Chan. He stood a few inches over four feet tall, and was most unlovely. The size of his stiff penis was immense.
I was naked, of course, except for my nipple rings. I lay on a bondage framework in the center of the floor of the main hall.
I lay on my back, with my hands chained back behind my head. The framework I was bound to was shaped like a table, and had a Y-shape where my legs were.
My legs were spread-of course. How could I be raped, if I was not chained down and spread-eagled?
Each of my long legs was secured to one of the legs of the Y. They were made of wood padded with black leather cushions.
Iron cuffs were fastened to my ankles to hold them down.
Chan stood between my legs. He was so short, that he had to stand on a special box to raise his groin so it was on a level with mine.
He was a fearsome creature. He had a square-shaped, bestial face, its expression twisted by his furious passions and lusts.
He was deformed. His head was large. His shoulders and arms were very large-much larger and more muscular than that of an average man.
His torso was short and stunted, as were his short, squat, powerful legs.
But nature had compensated Chan for his shortness in stature, by gifting him with a monster penis-a member which the dwarf now used on me.
His member was at least eight inches long, and possibly longer. His balls were fat and heavy, like the balls of a bull.
His pubic patch was a thatched mass of thick, black fur, fur which climbed up his stomach, matting his belly and his chest.
He was short and dark and brown. He looked as much ape as man.
I was unable to do anything to prevent my violation by this creature.
Naturally, there was an audience to witness my degradation.
It was night, and I was in the main hall of the castle. Warlord Tarkin and Lota were eagerly watching my humiliation.
The Warlord liked to surround himself with a gallery of grotesques, and he kept himself surrounded by a horde of freaks at court.
These poor creatures languished in the cells of his dungeons. There were monstrously fat women and men, men who were living skeletons, women whose arms and legs had been amputated so that they were living trunks and heads, and many more.
Chan scrambled up on the box-like platform, so that he stood between my legs.
I twisted and moaned in my bonds. Chains rattled as I shifted position. The gag in my mouth insured my silence during the ordeal.
Chan was wicked. Evil glittered in his beady eyes. He was a kind of ultimately perverted court jester in this castle of horrors.
He was naked. He looked like an oversized baboon.
I stole one fearful glance at the size of the awesome member which dangled from between .his dwarfed, stunted legs.
It was fearful in size, a knobbed club of flesh. The dwarf was even bigger in his penis than Tarkin, and the Warlord was most abundantly endowed.
Chan's claw-like fingers brushed away hair from his swollen, leering face. Saliva drooled down his chin as he licked his lips, looking at me.
He reached between his legs, gripped his member, and brought it into view.
It was not erect, but it was no less fearsome for that. It was so large that he had to grip it in both hands.
He brandished it lovingly, shaking it to and fro, squeezing and kneading it.
Chan was encouraged by the loud, booming laughter from the Warlord. Between Tarkin's roaring mirth, Lota's silvery little laugh could be heard.
The dwarf took his member and slapped it down on my thigh.
His piece of meat made a whacking sound as it slapped down on my soft, smooth, inner thigh. It caused a stinging pain.
He slapped it down again and again. As he did so, life quivered in it. It spasmed, jerked, and began to stiffen.
He kneaded it in his hands to make it grow. He pulled it lustily, jerking it back and forth, massaging stiffness into it.
I could only make stifled, strangled gasps through my gag.
The evil dwarf fondled himself, grinning at my discomfort.
Within seconds, his penis was firmly, fully erect. There was a tingling in my pussy. I moaned at the thought of taking that rod of flesh inside me.
However, I had no choice in the matter-as always.
Little did I realize that my suffering was only the prelude, the opening act, to a bizarre ordeal of sexual degradation.
The rod of flesh was now red and burning in Chan's hands.
A fat pearly drop of semen oozed from the slitted hole in the tip of his cock.
Chan moved closer to me. He had to climb off the box, push it closer to me, and then climb back on top of it in order to reach me.
Holding his member out in front of him, he looked almost comical, like a short and stout tea kettle with a spout which is much too big for it.
I might have laughed, too-if I had not been the intended object of that long, swollen, stout column of red flesh between his legs.
Gripping his member, he poked my labia with the head of it.
I cried out, but of course my cries were muffled by the gag in my mouth.
Chan leered. Like his master, the dwarf loved to inflict pain.
He would inflict it on me-using his erection.
He pressed the penis head against my quivering labia. His cock head was broad and fleshy, fat and wedge-shaped.
He leaned into me. I flinched and shuddered at the contact of his unclean flesh upon me. His cock head burned my labia.
He used his cock head to pry apart my labia, exposing the naked and tender membranes sheltered within.
I was tight and dry, thanks to the fear and revulsion I felt.
I squealed and groaned as the dwarf labored to penetrate me.
He huffed and puffed and groaned as he pushed his thing into me.
His hot cock head parted my labia, stretching them to the sides. The delicate pussy lips folded over on themselves as they were pushed out of the way.
Chan sweated profusely as he struggled to shove it in.
I felt like I was being split down the middle when he finally stuffed his swollen cock head inside my pussy.
My vision blurred as my eyes filled with scalding tears of pain.
His claw-like hands fastened on my fleshy hips, holding on tight while he thrust forward to penetrate me.
He entered me very slowly, but not because he wanted to.
I was so tight that he could only force his member in a fraction of an inch at a time. My pussy membranes quivered with pain.
His strong fingers had yellow, broken, sharp nails on the tips.
He used those nails to scratch my hips, leaving dozens of fresh and bleeding red scratches on my hips, flanks, and inner thighs.
Luckily for me, my pussy began to lubricate in self-defense.
Moisture oozed inside me, spreading throughout my pussy, wetting me with thick secretions, natural oils which made the penetration easier.
Now that I was wet inside, the dwarf was more easily able to accomplish his intended aim of forcing his long crank inside me.
I saw the column of flesh which jutted from his hips slowly sinking deep into my pussy. The shaft sank into my slit.
He was big-he hurt me!
The size of his penis stretched the inside of my sex. I tried to relax, so that it might be a bit easier for me, but I could not calm myself.
Bitter tears flooded my eyes. They spilled down my red and swollen face.
Sharp, hot agony knifed through my sex when he thrust deep.
His mission of penetration was accomplished.
His fat, wide cock head bumped against the mouth of my womb. I had taken him as deep inside me as he could possibly go.
All the while, the booming belly laughs of Warlord Tarkin accompanied my pain.
I thought back to my childhood-to my strict but loving parents, to my vast and extended family of cousins and sisters and brothers.
Was it for this that my parents had so carefully raised their daughter, guarding and guiding her through childhood and adolescence?
Was this what my life was leading up to-so that I could provide a moment's diversion to a cruel and evil man, by being raped by his dwarfish creature?
The answer to this question was surely beyond my poor understanding.
Once he had gotten deep inside, Chan began to thrust.
His stiff and vastly oversized erection pained me both ways-going in, and coming out. He thrust hard and fast.
His quivering cock squirmed inside me as he pulled his hips back, withdrawing the erection from my sex, pulling it out.
He rocked back until only his knobbed cock head stretched my pussy.
Then he would gather his strength and thrust deep, as though he was stabbing me with his penis. He would shove deep and hard.
His claw-like fingers, his hands which were paws, clutched at my soft squirming hips as he thrust mindlessly, like some kind of animal.
Chan was like some twisted troll of myth and legend. Sweat was wrung from my abused body as he continued to rape me.
His dwarfs face became as red and swollen as a beet. His mouth was open and straining for air as he continued to thrust.
The twitchings and jerkings of his cock inside me told me that he soon would come.
That was a consummation devoutly to be wished.
At last, he took hold of my shaking, sweating hips, and rammed the full length of his swollen member deep, and did not withdraw.
I moaned as his rod of flesh stretched my poor, abused pussy. Then I gurgled with deep disgust as he came inside me.
Like his member, his orgasm was larger than life, too. His cock pumped a large quantity of semen into my sex.
Chan shuddered and shrieked and chattered like a crazed monkey as he came.
I felt soiled-filthy-defiled-from having him come in me.
His cock twitched like a snake inside me, as the last few drops of semen were wrung out of his red, swollen member.
Warlord Tarkin hailed the dwarf. He laughed and applauded.
After a moment, when the dwarf had finally stopped coming, he pulled his penis out of me. His member was still firm.
It was semi-erect. My pussy lips stretched outward as the knobbed cock head came free of them. Semen oozed from my slit.
The dwarf wiped the glistening excess of semen off his member by rubbing it against my quivering thighs when he was done.
He pulled up his breeches, tucking his member inside the crotch of them. He hopped down from the box-like platform he had stood on.
Facing the Warlord, the dwarf made a little bow.
Tarkin tossed him a gold coin. The coin glittered as it flashed through the air. The dwarf caught it and quickly pocketed it.
Tired of this particular amusement, Tarkin commanded the dwarf to leave.
As Chan waddled out under the archway, and out of the hall, Tarkin turned to Lota, who sat curled on deep cushions at the foot of his throne.
She was very beautiful. She wore a flaming scarlet gown. The shoulders were bare, and the gown had a plunging neckline which displayed her breasts.
The gown fit her body like a sheath, exhibiting every fold and fissure and swelling mound of her perfect body. It had long, loose, flowing sleeves.
The Warlord had been drinking heavily. This was nothing new, since his motto was "excess in all things".
Lately he had been taking drugs, opium compounds which deranged his judgement.
He must have been under the effect of such a drug now. Pointing at me, he ordered Lota to go down on me, and lick my pussy clean.
Lota was not in her right mind, either-she was foolish enough to disobey him.
She said snippily that she had no intention of licking the dwarfs filth out of my pussy, and that Tarkin was mad for even suggesting such a thing.
He angrily struck her a blow which knocked her down the stairs.
She tumbled to a stop at the bottom step of his throne platform. She landed awkwardly, the hem of her gown rising high up her legs.
She fell heavily on her bottom, with her long legs sprawled apart. A red mark where he had struck her covered half her face.
Blood trickled down from the corner of her smashed lips. Lota raised herself up on her hands and knees, shaking her head dazedly.
Supreme hate shone in her eyes. She thrust her hand inside one of her flowing red sleeves, where she had a dagger hidden.
Her arm flashed-the dagger flew toward the Warlord.
He threw himself from his throne. The blade landed in the center of the seat, in a spot he had occupied only a second ago.
He grinned. Whatever else must be said of him, there is no denying that he is a man who laughs at death and danger.
On the side of his throne was a coiled bullwhip. He snatched it up as he leaped from his throne, and shook it out.
Lota tried to run. The bullwhip was long, and made a whirling loop over his head as he swung it at his fleeing mistress.
The snake-like whip circled Lota's feet, tripping her. She cried out as she fell face down on the floor, struggling to rise.
There was a cracking sound, like thunder, as the whip fell again.
It curled around her smooth, naked shoulders. The whip fell on her lengthwise, running along the line of her spine.
Lota screamed. A deep red line was slashed into her back.
Tarkin was warming to his task. He was a master with the whip. Its cracking thunder sounded again and again as it fell on Lota.
Each time she tried to rise, to flee, he whipped her feet out from under her. Soon her dress was in shreds-and so was much of her back and bottom.
The Lord knows I had good reason to hate Lota, but not even I could watch that brutal whipping without feeling sick to my stomach.
Her dress lay in shreds around her. She whimpered weakly, so devastated by the whip that she could do little more than moan.
Tarkin coiled his whip, setting it aside before he went to her.
From her shoulders to the backs of her thighs, her once-beautiful body was scored with Fierce and fearsome red slashes, ugly to look at.
He wound her long black hair around his fingers. She gasped and went white-faced with pain as he jerked her to a standing position.
Half-carrying her, half-dragging her, he led the sobbing, shaking Lota across the stone floor to the bondage framework which held me.
He pulled her so that she stood between my legs-where Chan the dwarf had stood not long ago when he raped my pussy, that devil.
Joy filled me, to see the look of mortal fear stamped on Lota's terrified face. She knew her master, and therefore rightfully dreaded his awesome wrath.
Her tears spattered on my quivering thighs as he pushed her head down between my legs. He shoved her face up against my pussy.
My pussy lips split and spread, smearing the dwarfs semen on Lota. She groaned with deep disgust as the stuff touched her lips.
Tarkin pushed her mouth so that it ground against my pussy. When she wouldn't tongue me at first, he twisted her nipple so fiercely that I feared he might well tear it off her breast. Lota could not resist him, of course.
Lota, my cruel mistress, was now reduced to licking the dwarfs semen out of my pussy. Lota had joined me in total slavery to our mutual master, the Warlord.
There was no physical pleasure for me as Lota cleaned my pussy with her lips and tongue. I had not known pleasure since my captivity began.
Her tongue was long and warm and slippery as it burrowed inside me.
I lay there, thinking my own private thoughts.
For Lota, this was a supreme disgrace, however.
Her fiery temper had gotten the best of her, and caused her overthrow.
She had disobeyed the Warlord-defied him in her foolish pride-and, worse of all, had actually attempted to kill him!
For this she would pay-she knew that. She had sent too many other victims down the road to torture not to know that her time had come.
She tried to get back in Tarkin's good graces by doing an exceptionally thorough job of tonguing my pussy clean of dwarf semen.
Her mouth was hot and wet against my sex. She pushed her face hard against it. There were liquid slurping sounds as she sucked the come.
No, I felt no physical pleasure from what she was doing.
But I felt a vast emotional satisfaction from her degradation.
Revenge is sweet, so they say, and there are few sensations sweeter than seeing a former tormentor taking her turn at suffering.
And Lota was suffering. There was over a dozen deep, wet red slashes on her back and bottom where the whip had lashed her.
She was in great pain. She sobbed and choked back her cries as she labored at her oral task. Her tongue licked the walls of my pussy clean.
The Warlord stood over her, his arms folded across his massive chest.
His face had never looked more inscrutable-harder to read. It was a fierce mask with dark glittering eyes.
But his body spoke for him. As he watched his mistress performing the humiliating mouth service, his penis hardened in his pants.
He stood where I could watch him. I saw movement in the crotch of his breeches as his member quivered, spasmed, stiffened, and grew.
It became a stiff, swollen erection, bulging like a concealed weapon.
He put his hand on his crotch, and squeezed himself. He opened his sash, and let his breeches drop, uncovering his erection.
He moved close to me. He put his hand on my head, and turned it to the side.
His penis, stiff but with a covering of smooth warm flesh, brushed my cheeks.
I licked my lips and made them wet. I opened wide to receive him.
Standing by my head, he guided his erection into my mouth.
I curled my lips over my teeth and wrapped them around his throbbing flesh.
His member jerked and spasmed in my mouth. I caressed the fleshy cock head with my tongue, and slurped and sucked on it.
Saliva drooled out of the corners of my mouth, wetting my chin.
He was fucking me in my mouth, but he was watching his former mistress-for that was Lota's status, or lack of it, now-as she ate my pussy.
He moved forward, burying his member deep in my mouth, the head shoving down in my throat. Fighting panic, I relaxed, taking him deep.
His muscular thighs flexed and quivered as he thrust slowly back and forth, going deep, pulling out until only his cock head was between my lips.
His erection was hot against my tongue, which caressed it.
His excitement was high. He was thrilled by the novelty of having Lota, who had been so high and mighty and overbearing, now so low and degraded.
To tell the truth, so was I. I hated Lota for the suffering she caused me.
He rocked back and forth. He began by thrusting slowly, but as his passions heated, he thrust faster and faster.
His hard, hot penis was a red blur of motion as it pumped in and out of my mouth. He grunted with pleasure.
When his arousal reached its crescendo, he stopped thrusting, and kept his cock buried deep in my throat.
It swelled up like a garden hose does when the water is first turned on, filling it. Semen spurted from the penis.
It splashed against the soft tissues at the back of my throat.
My jaw and throat muscles throbbed and flexed as I gulped down his come.
His cock was so deep in my throat that little of his semen got on my tongue. The come trickled down my throat like honey.
My mouth was clamped around his spurting, spitting rod of flesh.
I milked him dry with my mouth. The stream of semen faded to a thin trickle, and lastly to a few oozing drops.
Some semen got on my tongue when he pulled his cock out of my mouth.
There was a liquid popping sound as the swollen cock head came free of my puckered lips. His red member, still stiff, glistened with saliva and semen.
Lota had reached her limit. As she was mouthing my pussy, she had groaned with pain again and again.
Since her mouth was fastened to my pussy flesh, this produced a sensation which I must confess was rather exciting.
No matter how much I hated Lota, my body was neutral on the subject. My pussy did not care whose lips and tongue were lingeringly licking it.
But, as I said, she had reached her limit. She was emotionally and physically exhausted by her ordeal and her humiliation.
My pussy, which had grown accustomed to having her hot wet mouth glued to it, suddenly tingled as it was exposed to cool fresh air.
There was a slapping sound as Lota's naked flesh flopped on the floor.
She had fainted. She lay on her side with her legs curled.
Warlord Tarkin looked at her-then at me-then at her again.
Something flashed in his eyes, and a grim smile played on his lips.
It was an electric instant, like that moment when the oppressive, heavy atmosphere of an oncoming storm is shattered by the first bolt of lightning.
I knew he was hatching out some plan-but what?
I would not discover the answer to that until the next day.
He summoned his retainers. They dragged Lota away. Others freed me from the bondage framework, and returned me to my cell.
The following night, I was once more in the torture chamber where my nipples had been pierced, and my bottom branded.
Lota was there, too-as was the Warlord.
This time, however, the situation was radically reversed. I was no longer the victim! was the oppressor, the tormentor.
This, then, was the Warlord's ironic revenge on the mistress who had betrayed him.
Lota must suffer, of course. And who would be a more dedicated tormentor than the person who had suffered the most from her cruelties?
I was that person. He had put her down, and raised me up.
Earlier that day, guards had come to my cell. I expected more punishments.
I was taken to the upper levels of the castle, out of the dungeons. I was bathed in a deep pool of warm, perfumed water with lotus petals floating in it.
My hair was washed. Slavish females dried me and then dressed me in a fabulous robe of green silk which was soft and sheer and see-through.
I was brought to the Warlord. He told me that he had taken a fancy to me, and liked my spirit. I would be his new consort.
I would be his slave, but no longer would I suffer the abuse of all the others in his service. Now, they must fear me.
For my first act in my new position, I would be allowed to inflict pain and punishment on Lota-something I anticipated with great glee.
She was brought into the torture room. How different she was from the haughty, arrogant bitch who had ground her heels into my face!
She was crushed, tearful, shivering. It was cool in the room, and goose bumps rose on her flesh. The marks of last night's whipping were fresh and ugly.
She gasped when she saw me sitting at the Warlord's feet.
I was dressed for my new role in stunning garments of black leather.
My breasts were naked. I still wore my nipple rings-after all, despite my new status, I was still a total slave to my dominant master.
But my middle was cinched in with a black leather midriff cincher which plumped up my breasts, and pushed out my naked bottom.
I wore a short black leather skirt, and knee-high boots of black patent leather, which was polished to such a high gloss that it was like a black mirror.
The boots had sharply pointed toes, high heels, and steep arches. It felt like walking around on stilts, but I was growing used to the sensation.
Lota wailed with dismay as she was thrown down at me feet.
"Do what thou wilt with her," the Warlord commanded me.
Lota hugged my knees as she tearfully pleaded for mercy. I promised her that I would show her all the compassion and kindness she had shown me.
The henchmen dragged her to a whipping bench, and held her face down across it.
I picked a whip from the wall-a cat-o'-nine-tails which had vicious metal studs on the tip of each metal thong.
I liked the feel of the leather handle in my palm. Yes, this would be rather easy to get used to. I suddenly slashed the whip down on her backside.
Her scream of pain was most musical to my ears.
Lota was weak-I had taken much more punishment from her without flinching. I will admit that I whipped her very severely.
I did not whip her all that many times, but you must remember that each stroke of the cat was like being whipped nine times at once.
Her shrieks grew very loud indeed. The Warlord inquired if I would prefer to have her gagged, if her screams were upsetting my sensibilities.
On the contrary, I said, her screams of pain were most pleasing to me.
I made sure that I heard very many of them indeed.
I stopped the whipping when she passed out from the pain-not out of mercy. There was just no sense in hurting her unless she could feel it-suffer from it.
A servant emptied a pail of cold water over her head, shocking her back into wakefulness. She groaned, choked, sputtered.
I stood in front of her. I wanted her to watch as I took off the leather skirt and strapped on a dildo.
This was a very special dildo. Its thick rubber shaft bristled with wicked little barbs of hard black rubber, thin and sharp.
The dildo was heavy, and bounced slightly as it dangled from my slim hips.
Lota was strapped face down on a rack. This device contained handles which could raise or lower various parts of the table.
I commanded a servant to crank up the rear section, so her naked bottom was raised high in the air. The whipped buttocks twitched and jerked.
Her breasts dangled free. Lota screamed and screamed as I screwed tight metal clamps on her nipples.
