A Life of Submission

by Argus, JJ

  Chapter Ten

  My first introduction to India was not pleasant. The boat stopped at a small, dirty town and I and my guard disembarked. I was, of course, excited and curious about this new land and its people, but that excitement was tempered by anxiety about my own future. That anxiety was little aided by the sight of the townspeople, who seemed quite stricken by poverty, and moved about with eyes cast down and faces filled with wariness and fear whenever they chanced to be near a figure of authority.

  The car waiting for us was ancient and dirty, one of the windows cracked, the springs in the seats broken, the fabric much stained and torn. We set out through the town, and then onto a dirt track which would have been quite flattered to be termed a road. The track was filled with holes so that the car frequently lurched from side to side, and bounced up and down. Several times it drove off the road into fields adjoining it as the driver spent long periods of time with his eyes glued to the rear view mirror staring at me, rather than upon the track itself.

  The man was as dirty as the car, with a ragged looking white robe which resembled little so much as a very cheap, plain nightgown. If either it or its wearer had recent acquaintance with either soap or water I would have been much surprised.

  The drive took almost two hours, most of it spent with my hand tightly grasping the handle of the door to prevent my head from bouncing upwards against the roof. The heat was appalling, and I was panting and sweating terribly within the first ten minutes. I longed to open my robe somewhat but feared the driver would lose all control were I to do so.

  The final quarter of our journey was spent on a paved road, but again, such description greatly overstates the case. The pavement was much cracked and patched (though not patched sufficiently) and there were uncountable potholes scattered along its length. The car shook and rattled violently as the driver increased speed, and as his eyes continued to monitor my person as opposed to the road ahead I wondered at our chances of reaching our destination intact. For we now passed similar cars and trucks racing past in the opposite direction, and I had little confidence the rusting, creaking automobile would survive a collision of any force.

  At long last we reached the city of Rankghar, as dismal an assault on the eyes and nose as anything I had yet encountered. The streets were filled with beggars, many of them terribly scarred, blinded, or missing limbs. Several of them raced alongside the car, shouting and gesticulating, holding forth their hands for alms as the driver cursed at them and swung the wheel violently back and forth in an attempt to hit them.

  The smell of human and animal waste rotting under a blinding sun clogged my nostrils, and made my eyes water as we dodged in and out of narrow streets behind trucks, tractors, ox drawn carts, and assorted mobs of people with livestock.

  Finally, we arrived at our destination, a singularly unimpressive pair of wooden gates held together by a rusting chain. A ragged looking man with a rifle slung over a shoulder slouched towards the drivers door, then leaned in to speak with our driver. The conversation lasted far too long, given the heat, and occasioned much snickering and ogling of my person.

  Finally, the man slouched back to the gates, unwrapped the chain from one of the gates (which leaned weakly outward) and dragged the gates open. The driver raced the engine and the car lurched forward. We found ourselves in a paved back court beneath a tall, squat, ugly looking building. A variety of cars and trucks were parked about, most of them in no better condition than ours. Off to one side was a large gathering of garbage cans, the trash overflowing onto the ground and the smell assaulting my nostrils.

  Another ragged guard approached the car, and more snickering occurred, while the Chinese guard who had accompanied me exited the car and motioned me to follow. He spoke to the second guard in a language with which I was unfamiliar, and the pair then led me through an open door and into the bowels of the building.

  The hall inside was narrow, with floors, wall, and roof of chipped, cracked concrete, and bare light bulbs dangling overhead. We met up with another guard, this one wearing a cap appeared to signal an officer of some sort. He examined papers the Chinese guard presented, and then signed them. From there he roughly took me by the arm and led me away.

  We did not, as I had expected, go upwards, but rather, took a dark stone stairwell down into the bowels of the building. We made three turnings, going ever deeper, before emerging in a dark, damp, and yet refreshingly cool stone corridor which, other than its temperature, had little else to recommend it. In all other respects it was similar to the one above.

  We turned a corner to another similar corridor, and I saw with some trepidation that the walls on either side were lined with low, narrow, strongly built doors, each of which had a barred window and a heavy bolt on the outside. The guard led me to one such and opened it, and I my heart sank as I saw that it was indeed a cell of some sort.

  There was a bare bulb in the ceiling, of low power. It lit a stone room no more than six feet square, empty save for a hole in one corner, and thin and filthy mat in the other. The guard pushed me inside, and followed, then thrust me abruptly against the wall. He leered at me as his hands tore open my robe, and his eyes widened with lust as he beheld my nudity. I could almost smell the heat and lust he exuded as his hands reached out and almost reverently cupped my breasts, then began to squeeze them with a hot urgency which seemed to transmit itself to me through my breasts.

  His fingers were hard and hot, and my breasts ached as they dug deep into the soft flesh, kneading and pinching it. Yet it was a hot ache, an ache which seemed to feed on his own lust, on his obvious excitement for me. He was a crude, thuggish man, dirty, with foul-smelling breath, yet I was at his mercy, and as his hands raced over my body I felt a fiery ache beginning to rise in my loins.

  He spoke rapidly in Hindu, which I could not, of course, understand, and his eyes darted back and forth between the doorway and my body. Due to the heat I had braided my long hair into a single tail. This he took hold of, using it to roughly yank my head back, and then jammed his warm and dirty mouth against my own as he continued to maul my breast.

  He thrust me back with a further leer, feral eyes still watching the door warily. He said something else, then turned and casually stripped off my robe completely, followed by my slippers. He smirked as he looked upon my nudity fully, then pushed me back against the hard stone wall. I now noticed the heavy iron clamps, ancient with rust, bolted to the wall. One, larger than the others, was almost at the proper height for my throat - almost. I was forced almost onto my toes as he swung the clamp closed, a thick, curved iron collar which pulled in tightly against my neck just beneath my jaw, and was bolted into place there.

  My arms were raised up and out and similar heavy shackles snapped around them, bolting them directly against the wall, as well. There were lower shackles, but my captor hesitated, then went to the door. He gazed up and down the hallway, then returned quickly, undoing his dirty trousers.

  I felt my stomach fluttering with a mixture of anticipation and disgust. He truly was a filthy beast, yet he was clearly about to use my body. Bound with heavy, cold iron to the hard stone wall I felt very much the helpless prisoner as he pushed his groin in against me. He spoke again, softly, muttering, jamming his hardness against my soft sex. He forced my legs further apart, then forced himself into me. This left me half hanging from the heavy metal shackles, which pushed in harshly against my soft wrists.

  He used me roughly, grunting with pleasure and obvious relish, thrusting furiously up into my body as his dirty fingers dug into the soft flesh of my buttocks. He panted and gasped as he drove his loins against me, his eyes nearly closed as he threw his hips forward. It took under a minute for him to give a shudder and release his seed.

  He drew back with a groan, stood still a moment, then quickly did up his trousers and bolted my ankles against the wall. Then he was gone, leaving me in place in the dark, hot, fetid cell.

  "Welcome to India," I whispered to myself.

 
; My body was already overheated from both the air and the quick, ruthless use which had been made of it, and I stared about me feeling as though I were, for the first time since my initial capture, in the life of a sexual slave. For this was the sort of thing I had expected on hearing I was to be taken to China, the kind of thing I had imagined was the fate of any sex slave. Yet things had been so very different at Governor Lei's palace that my belief in the treatment of slaves had been challenged. Now I was brought back to earth. As in China, I was in a rural back province where the governor enjoyed great autonomy and, I guessed, little fears of close supervision from the central government.

  Unlike Governor Lei, however, and going strictly on what I had observed to date in his subjects, servants and cities, he seemed to exhibit rather more of the type of behaviour one would expect from a third world dictator. Nor did there appear to be the type of wealth, if one could term it so, that Governor Lei had access to. While it was true I had only seen the rear of the building under which I was held, and its lower levels, it bespoke a considerably poorer man than Governor Lei, and the city around it seemed to echo that theme.

  I stood unmoving, locked against the harsh stone, hoping my stay was to be short but with growing fear that hope would not be fulfilled.

  After a time cramps began to move through my legs and thighs, and my back became stiff and sore. My lower jaw soon ached from the pressure of the heavy collar bolted around my throat, but I had not the strength to keep myself on my toes for long.

  With nothing to exercise my eyes upon my ears began to take in the sounds of this place, and they were far from encouraging. Not far away I could hear a moaning which bespoke pain and hopelessness, and then further, a distant cry which came again and again, a man in some considerable pain. The cries grew louder and more frenzied, then stopped abruptly.

  The sudden scuff of feet on the stone outside caught my attention, and a moment later the bolt was thrown back with a loud metallic protest. The light snapped on, and I narrowed my eyes, blinking and squinting as two men stepped in, unshackled me, and dragged me out of the cell.

  I was led back up the hall, then up the stairs once more. Neither of the men talked to me, and both clung tightly to one arm, as if I would break free and somehow escape. We climbed several flights of stairs, more than I could recall descending, then emerged into a narrow corridor which led, only a short distance away, to still more stairs.

  I was in good shape due to my constant exercises, but was still panting in the heat and humidity as we reached the top. A guard there opened a steel door and I was taken through to a far more luxuriously appointed hall. The roof was still low, and the walls of dull, institutional concrete, but the floors were covered in thick, brightly woven rugs, and tapestries covered most of the walls. The doors were of polished wood, with enormous, old-fashioned keyholes beneath the handles, little windows atop the frames.

  Inside the room I was taken was an unfortunate collection of what looked suspiciously like purpose made, heavy wooden frames and objects designed to cause people pain, or at least, to hold them in restraint while pain was given them.

  In the centre of the room was a three dimensional square frame made up of two by fours with an overhead lattice. Hooks and rings ran along all the inside edges of the frame, and a small chain was attached to a hook in the direct centre of the overhead lattice.

  To the left was a narrow frame of polished wood. A triangular piece of wood a foot in length sat atop a narrow metal post. A wooden penis carved with ridges sat in the centre of this wood, thrusting upwards. Shackles were bolted to a pair of metal posts below. Beyond that was a wooden beam laid on its edge, shackles attached to the metal legs supporting it.

  To the right stood a flat upright frame with too-small holes about where a girl's breasts might be, and what resembled a large, thick, carved wooden penis sticking upwards at a very sharp, almost vertical angle. There was a second such object at the top of the frame, angled out and then down, on a hinged arm. A pair of pegs thrust out horizontally on either side just a little below the lower "penis", spaced widely apart, with shackles attached to the sides of the frame a little below these.

  There were hooks running all along the walls, and an amazing assortment of flogs, crops, switches, whips and paddles hung from these. Below this was a shelf filled with an untidy assortment of leather and chain restraints.

  And standing in the middle of all this was a tall, very thin, greasy looking man with a ferret face, slicked back hair and an expression of eager. He spoke to the guards, who released my arms and then stepped back. At another word from him they left, closing the heavy door behind.

  I did not know who this man was, but of course, did my best to appear pleasant, smiling in my most obedient and helpful way.

  He spoke softly, but cooly as he stepped towards me. I could not understand a word, however, nor did he seem to care. He examined me with a smirk then slapped my face. I staggered back a half step, then straightened myself. He said something, but of course, I could not understand. Again he slapped my face. This time I held my position, and he glared.

  He moved away from me, to a small table set against one wall, and took from it a pair of leather gloves, which he donned. He returned to me, again speaking low and cooly, then took my braided hair and quite roughly yanked me around to the frame on the right side of the room.

  He pushed me face first against the frame there, so that my breasts pushed against the small holes, and began to slowly push through. He slapped at my buttocks, shouting at me and gripping the wooden cock. I realized he was ordering me to mount the thing, yet I was at a loss.

  Then he showed me two places at either side of the frame where one could step. I did so, awkwardly lifting myself up a foot or so, gripping the top of the frame for support as he held my hips and manoeuvred me against the penis.

  I felt it nudging my soft lips, and swallowed nervously as I began to settle downwards. I bent my legs, feeling the pressure of the wooden penis as it was forced between my labia and penetrated my body. I felt the hard, cool wood sliding forward, pushing aside the soft walls of my sex, forcing my tube open as I slid lower. With the thing halfway up inside me I was able to step on the floor once again, and bring my legs together, then settle slowly downwards.

  His hand pushed against my back, pressing my body harder against the upright wood, and I felt my breasts pushing against those two holes once again. Neither of the holes was much wider than a teacup, but my breasts were soft and malleable. Then he moved behind the frame once. I felt his fingers on the other side, pinching at my flesh, grasping my breasts tightly and tugging them through the holes.

  He worked his fingers, pulling and squeezing, pinching and twisting until my chest was flat against the frame and my breasts had been entirely worked through the holes, swelling out on the other side. Something just on the other side of the frame then closed in around them and I cried out at the pressure which pinched in on all sides. My breasts were squeezed into a hole no wider than a silver dollar, bloating out painfully beyond that like overfilled balloons.

  I felt a slap at one breast, and cried out. Another slap struck my other breast, and both began to sting and throb. I could not see through the flat frame, and imagined all manner of terrible tortures being done to my sensitive breasts. Yet I could do nothing to defend them, nor even pull away.

  He came around the frame once again and drew my arms together behind my back, then placed a collar around my throat, and attached a small chain to my wrist restraints so my hands were locked up high beneath my neck.

  He returned to the other side of the frame, and I stood anxiously, my breasts throbbing. I gasped as I felt a touch, yet it was soft. I felt my swollen nipples pinched and rolled between his fingers, plucked and twisted lightly. I felt the rings pulled outward so that my nipples strained, then felt them undone and removed. A moment later something soft struck my left breast with a light crack of noise. It stung, yet the sensation was not heavy enough to be termed
pain. Whatever had struck seemed no more than an inch or so wide, probably leather and, almost certainly capable of causing much more pain.

  It struck again, again directly against my nipple, then again, and again. It switched to my other breast, my other nipple, and began to alternate. My nipples were quivering and swollen, hot and buzzing with pain and hot, dark, sexual electricity. He halted, and I felt his mouth closing around one of my nipples, taking it and the areola, as well as the centre of my taut, swollen breast into his mouth. I felt the heat and moisture of his mouth around my breast, his tongue lapping at my quivering nipple. Then his teeth drawing in, pinching lightly but repeatedly so that my flesh ached.

  His mouth drew back and again the hard, stinging blows as I wriggled and writhed on the other side of the frame. The wooden cock was a thick, immoveable thing within my abdomen, and every movement of my body jerked my soft pussy sleeve around it, causing me to gasp and groan as my sex was stretched and strained. I had eased down from my toes and found that I now had almost the entire length of it within me. Yet as I neared bottom I found that the space between it and the frame from which it protruded narrowed, as well, until just above the base only a thin sliver of space remained.

  And the very top of my sex was caught in it, pinched against a round little lump which by design or chance stuck out from the frame in just the right place to jam against my soft clitoris. I raised myself up as the pressure against my clitoris sent a throbbing pain through my body, moaning anew as my toes and the balls of my feet protested.

  He continued slapping my nipples, and both were now on fire. My breasts were throbbing with heat, as well, being squeezed and constricted at the chest, and my nipples were ultra sensitive little coals sitting at their centre.

  My body was jerking against the frame, my breasts tugging against the tight, remorseless grip of the frame, unable to pull free. I was puffing and panting, trying to fight through the pain to the sexual heat I had held only minutes earlier.