“A sentimental moment, yes, Mrs. Ryan?” Kathy could not speak. “Well, now, the man who murdered your husband Jeff, the man whose woman you have become, also has a gift for you.” Miko took the perfume from Kathy and handed her a small wide mouthed jar that was warm to the touch and contained, as Kathy knew it would, several ounces of Abul’s urine and the garbage. A thinner vial was filled with his urine. In the wooden box, she saw a plastic stirrer and a small brush.
“You have a choice, Mrs. Ryan.” Abul spoke slowly and clearly. “You may anoint your nipples with the perfume your loving husband gave you. Then, you may drop the container of my urine into the bowl and hit it with the hammer.” He paused to let his words sink in. “Or, Mrs. Ryan, you can put your late husband’s note in the bowl, sprinkle it with my urine, place his gift on top of the note, and take up the hammer to smash this final token of his affection.” He waited until Kathy lifted her head to stare across at him. “Make your choice freely.” Kathy quickly looked at Mr. Satomi but he was still as implacable as ever. “If you choose to destroy your husband’s gift,” Abul continued, “you will show your respect for me by adding a few drops of the urine to the sample of nasty smelling garbage you now hold in your hand. Stir it to a fine paste. Then, honor me once more by brushing the mixture on to your nipples.” Kathy glanced at the hammer. She wanted to rush off the stage and bury it in Abul’s head. She wanted to strike him over and over, until his head was nothing but grisly pulp.
Miko was still kneeling beside Kathy. In one hand Miko held the perfume and Jeff’s last note. In the other she held the jar and the vial. Kathy took both from the Japanese woman. Miko removed the brush and the stirring rod from the bowl along with the hammer that she placed next to it. In her left hand Kathy held the jar with Abul’s urine and the nasty smelling garbage. In her right was Jeff’s gift and card. “Choose, Mrs. Ryan,” Abul ordered.
Kathy put the dark container on the floor. Carefully she placed Jeff’s note in the bowl and with a shaking hand sprinkled some of Abul’s yellow piss over it. Then she placed the bottle of perfume in the bowl and sat looking down at it for a moment before taking up the hammer. With a quick blow she shattered the glass. Immediately the sweet scent of Chanel drifted through the room.
“And now, Mrs. Ryan, do you wish to honor me by painting your nipples with a mixture of my piss and garbage?” The guests were absolutely silent. No one even moved.
“Yes, Master Abul. You have graciously permitted me to choose. I have chosen.”
“You see that this nasty garbage is almost black. Will you make the mixture so that it reflects the light? Will you make it wet? Make the black badges shine?”
“I will do my best to please you.” She took up the container and the plastic rod. Miko gave her the vial of urine. Kathy added a few drops and stirred. She added a few drops more and mixed them in. Miko handed her the fine brush. Slowly, and taking great care, she painted her pink aureoles and nipples. The foul smell of the nasty garbage and urine caused her to shudder even as she felt the cum ooze from her vagina and sensed the swelling of her clitoris.
“Are you aroused now, Mrs. Ryan? Does the sight and smell of my urine excite you?”
“Yes, I am aroused.”
“Prove that it has aroused you, Mrs. Ryan. Show us that my urine makes you hotter than your husband’s kisses ever did.”
She crawled to the very edge of the stage and for the third time lifted her gown and leaned back. As she did so her bare nipples were thrust forward. The wet black mixture gleamed under the lights. When she parted her vaginal lips they observed the thick milky secretions oozing from her vagina. “Look at her!” Abul cried. “I killed her husband. I planned his death. I did the murder!” Kathy closed her eyes. Her stomach churned. She desperately wanted to strike him. Abul noticed how agitated she had become and pressed further. “Look, my friends,” he continued waving his hand at her, “the American widow who claims to still love her dead husband adorns her breasts with the urine of her husband’s murderer.” He paused. “The sight and smell of Abul’s urine almost makes her cum. Is that not right, Mrs. Ryan? Say it, say ‘the sight and smell of the urine of the man who...” He left the sentence for her to complete.
“Yes,” she whispered loud enough for them to hear, “what you say is true. You and your guests can see how wet I’ve become and know that it’s true. The sight and smell of your...of your urine...of the urine of the man who murdered my husband...it it...excites me...excites me.”
“Crawl down here to me again, Mrs. Ryan.” When she again knelt before him he said, “Raise your head. Look at me.” Trying to keep the revulsion from showing in her eyes, she did as he commanded. “Do you recall what you once refused to do for me?”
“Yes,” she said. “I remember.”
“As do I, Mrs. Ryan. There is another reason why I have not bathed during the past five days. There is a dark place, Mrs. Ryan, where it gives me great pleasure to feel your kisses. You certainly know where that place is?”
“In the...in the...” She couldn’t finish.
“In the sweaty crack of your Master’s ass, Mrs. Ryan,” he sneered. “In the place you once refused to honor. But you’re not going to refuse a second time, are you Mrs. Ryan?”
She felt the gorge rising to her throat and swallowed hard. “No, I won’t refuse.”
“In fact, Mrs. Ryan, you will ask for permission to lick my crack. You will beg to touch your lips to it. Suck at it. Push your tongue into it. Yes?”
“Yes.”
“We want to hear you say the words, hear you beg.”
“Please, Master,” Kathy squeezed her eyes tightly shut, “allow me to honor you there. Allow me to kiss it, to lick it.”
“And?” Abul prompted.
“And let me touch my lips to...to. Please, my Master, let me push my tongue into your anal opening.”
“We will be watching and listening carefully. We want to see and hear the devotion you have spoken of. Complete and unconditional devotion, I believe you said. Not clever pretense, Mrs. Ryan, but devotion... devotion that is obvious and real.”
Kathy knew this would be the deciding test. She realized that her conditioning over the bowl containing his urine with the garbage was working in her favor. The odor of her black nipples was arousing her, but that would not be nearly enough. Satomi was perceptive as were the others. Abul was determined to make her fail. If, at the close of the night, Mr. Satomi awarded her to Abul she would not live to celebrate the end of her contract.
“Please, Master,” she looked up at him, “I have destroyed my husband’s last gift. I have, as you instructed, prepared this black mixture of your...of your urine. I display it proudly on my breasts. It is, as you wished, wet and it shines. I have shown you how much it excites me to honor you in this way.”
“Obscene!” one of the women shouted, “She is obscene!”
Kathy ignored the outburst. “On my knees, Master, I now beg for your permission to...to prove my absolute and unconditional devotion.” Abul signaled to Miko and Mi Jong, who hurried from the stage. As he stood, they quickly lifted up the back of his caftan and fastened it above his waist.
“My God, Abul,” Narimov said, laughing “have you no shame?”
“None at all,” Abul replied, bending over and placing his hands on the chair. He presented his dark, hairy ass to the kneeling Kathy. “Use your hands, Mrs. Ryan, to help you find the center you are so eager to honor.”
“Thank you, Master,” she said. Leaning forward, she spread the cheeks of his pimpled ass. The hot stench washed over her. A trickle of sweat ran down his crack. She felt as if she might vomit.
Abul turned his head to look back at her. “I murdered your husband, Mrs. Ryan,” he said. “Show these guests that you are now my woman.”
She spread his cheeks wider apart and buried her head between them. She licked along the length of his crack. She whimpered as she pressed the flat of her tongue against the base of his scrotum and licked up to his
hole. Never drawing back, she licked again and again until his crack dripped with her saliva.
Again, Abul turned to speak to her, “He suffered, Mrs. Ryan. I made sure of that.” She tried not to hear him. “Who are you, Mrs. Ryan?” his voice rose.
She stopped licking for only the moment it took to answer. “I am your woman.”
“Where do you belong?” He was angry now.
“Here, on my knees, serving you in this way.” She touched the foul smelling rim of his anal opening with the tip of her tongue.
“Not just yet,” he said. “First, I want you to look at it.” Pushing his ass cheeks even further apart, she stared at the purple-brown wrinkled opening that glistened with moisture. As she watched, it seemed to pulse, widening slightly and closing. “Tell me, Mrs. Ryan, do you find what you are looking at more exciting than your husband’s mouth?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“What do you want to do, Mrs. Ryan?”
“This,” she said, and groaned as she pressed her lips hard against the fetid rim and drove her tongue into his hole. She drew back, her tongue still protruding from between her wet lips like a small pink cock. She stared as if hypnotized, at his opening, which pulsed more rapidly now.
“I remind you, again, Mrs. Ryan, your husband’s death was painful...very painful because I wanted him to suffer.”
“Yes,” she said, “but I belong to you now.” Quickly, she moved forward to jab her tongue in and out of his hole. She continued to whimper and groan. Her fingernails dug into his ass cheeks. Violently spinning around, he shoved her away. She fell backward, sprawling on the floor. “What kind of woman would suck at the dirty hole of the man who killed her husband?” he shouted.
It took her a moment to get her breath. “A woman like me. A woman whose only wish is to belong to you,” she whispered so that they all could hear. Abul’s face reddened. He motioned to Miko, who unhooked his caftan and unfolded it until it once more covered his ass and legs. He sat back in his chair and glared down at Kathy who had again gotten to her knees and knelt at his feet, her head bowed.
“Look up,” he said. She raised her head and saw the hard glitter of his eyes behind the mask. Her chin, nose, and cheeks were wet, her lipstick gone, and the mascara had run. Still, her skin was almost luminous, her upturned face lovely.
“So, you enjoyed that, did you? You took pleasure in licking the ass crack of the man who killed your husband?”
“My feelings are of no consequence, Master. Even the fact that you took my husband from me does not matter now. That you made his death a painful one was not necessary, but...but...it is not my place to question your actions. My place is here, on my knees before you. If it pleases you to have me lick your crack, I will do so for as long as you wish.” She looked down at his feet and, tentatively, reached out her hand to gently touch them. Looking back up at him she said, “If, Master Abul, it gives you pleasure to feel my lips pressed against the rim of your anal opening and feel my tongue in your passage, I will be honored to do that too, as often as you wish. I am here only to give you pleasure.” She saw that his face was dark with anger. He had not expected a response like this.
Abul signaled to Mi Jong who came forward to place a small leather box on the floor in front of Kathy. “Open it,” Abul said. “It is for you.” Holding the box, Kathy cautiously lifted its lid.
When she looked inside, she gasped, “Oh, my God!”
“It is familiar, is it not?” Abul asked.
“It’s...it’s the ring...the ring I gave to my husband on our wedding day.” She could see the inscription she had the jeweler engrave on the inside of the gold band. It read, ‘My Beloved Jeff’ followed by the date. Tears quickly formed and ran down her cheeks.
“I had my people take it from his dead body,” Abul said.
Kathy looked up at him, pleading with her eyes, “May I...may I keep it?”
“Of course,” Abul answered. “It is yours now. If you want to keep it, you can. I’m sure it calls up fond memories and has great sentimental value.” She stared at the ring in the palm of her hand, remembering that happiest of days, remembering the strength and gentleness of her young husband. Abul watched her and drummed his long fingernails on the wooden arms of his chair. Except for the clicking of his nails, the room was quiet. With the fingers of her right hand, Kathy touched the ring. Abul cleared his throat. Kathy looked into his derisive face. He was mocking her. She reached up and, taking his left hand, slid Jeff’s wedding band onto the ugly Pakistani’s third finger. If he was surprised, he concealed it. “I assume you no longer want to keep the wedding ring of your late husband? You wish, instead, to give it to the man who sent him to an early grave?”
“Yes, that is true. I wish for you to have his ring. I thank you for taking it from my husband. I thank you for accepting it from me.” She bowed her head again, convinced that she had won the last three contests. Abul struggled to control his growing rage.
After a moment, he turned to guests behind him, “I have a question for our female friends,” Abul said evenly. “Tell me, ladies, would you like more drinks now, or would you prefer to watch Mi Jong apply the riding crop to Mrs. Ryan’s painted nipples? What is your desire, Mrs. Withers?”
“I’d love to see the slut whipped.”
“Mrs. Heisei?”
“Whip.”
“And you, Mrs. Arhita?
“She is a disgrace to all women. Let her be whipped.”
He smiled and held up his hands, “The rest of you?”
“Whipped,” they said in a chorus.
“Finally,” Abul nodded to his left, “our own Madam Khe. A martini or the riding crop?”
“The martini can wait,” Madam Khe said.
“You heard my guests, Mrs. Ryan.” Abul pointed toward to stage. Kathy glanced at Mr. Satomi whose head was turned away from her as he whispered something to Madam Khe. The small woman between them, who was completely hidden under a heavy black caftan, had not uttered a word nor, it seemed to Kathy, had she even moved. Kathy tried to see her eyes behind the mask, but could not.
“Come,” Miko said and started up the ramp to the stage. Kathy, crawling behind her, followed. Mi Jong had retrieved the riding crop from behind the screen and joined them at the edge of the stage. Still kneeling, Kathy faced Abul and the guests.
“Clasp your hands behind your neck, and push your breasts forward so that they invite the whip,” Abul ordered. When Kathy had obeyed, Abul shook his head. “Your recent exertions have take some of the luster from the double badges you wear in my honor. Would you like to paint them again?”
“Yes, Master,” Kathy said. Miko handed her the small jar, which was very warm.
“Stir it up,” Abul instructed. “And put in more of your Master’s golden nectar.” The guests laughed. Miko gave her the plastic rod and the thin vial of Abul’s piss. Kathy’s hand trembled as she added a few drops of it to the jar. When she finished stirring, the reeking mixture was the color and consistency of a thick chocolate syrup.
Abul stood to address the guests. “My friends,” once more, he half turned to face the second row, “as part of her training here at the facility, Mrs. Ryan has learned to love two things because they make her quite hot... ‘aroused’ and ‘excited’ are the words she uses. Her sense of sight, her sense of touch, and her sense of smell have been conditioned to the point where she is easily aroused. Her nipples stiffen, the flow of her vaginal secretions increases, her clitoris swells, and her breathing becomes rapid. All of this is happening at this very moment, isn’t it, Mrs. Ryan?”
“Yes...yes it is.” Kathy still held the jar and the brush Miko had handed her.
“Tell us, what is the sight that makes you hot?”
“The whip,” Kathy answered.
“And the painful touch of the whip or the crop?”
“Yes, I have learned that being whipped...excites me.”
“What fragrance makes your cunt wet and your nipples stiffen? Is it t
he expensive perfume your husband bought for you?”
Looking down into the jar caused the same reaction as her morning ritual over the bowl. She could feel the heat in her nipples. She closed her eyes as it moved downward to gorge her clitoris. “The smell that most excites you?” Abul taunted.
“Not the perfume, Master. I...I...am aroused by the odor of your...your... urine.”
“Apply the brush now, Mrs. Ryan. Make your nipples glisten.”
For the second time, Kathy coated her swollen nipples with the foul mixture. When she finished, Miko took the jar and brush. Mi Jong stood to one side of Kathy, the riding crop in her right hand. She exchanged a quick smile with Miko. Abul was still standing. He looked to his right and left then back at Kathy. “We see that your long, black nipples are now quite wet. Did you want to do that for me?”
Kathy stared out over his head, “Yes, Master.”
“Are you hot? Very hot?”
“Yes...yes I am.”
“We’ve conditioned her sight and smell, my friends,” Abul smiled at his guests, “but, unfortunately, we’ve neglected to cultivate her sense of taste.” Kathy began to rise and was ready to protest, to refuse. She glanced at Madam Khe who nodded at her almost imperceptibly. Kathy sank back to her knees. “Mrs. Ryan!” Abul shouted. “You are my woman. Do you understand?” Kathy nodded. “First one nipple, then the other.” There was a murmur of disbelief among the guests.
“Abul,” Satomi raised his hand, “that is enough. Let her be whipped.”
Abul frowned, then quickly nodded. He realized that, so far, he had not succeeded in making her resist. He was sure she would have refused to lick her breasts. She was winning. “Mi Jong has waited long enough,” he said. “Take the proper position, Mrs. Ryan.”
Immediately, Kathy placed her hands behind her neck and, raising her head, she thrust her breasts forward. Abul sat back in his chair and nodded to Mi Jong. With a quick, hard snap of her wrist Mi Jong brought the crop down on the nipple nearest her. Kathy jerked, and let out a muffled cry as if someone had kicked her in the stomach.
The Facility Page 23