“Do you really want my sperm shot all over your coffee table and carpet? “ he asked between gasps.
The thought of him cumming all over her living room was a nasty thought. The angle of his cock as it was would insure a good area coverage. Nasty… sort of nasty in a sexy way. She suddenly felt sure that if she turned down the first option, another, more tempting, option would be presented. She shook her head ‘no’ left and right. The negative answer made her lips slide up and down the shaft of his cock.
“Would Fishy prefer to have Little Johnson’s fish swim upstream in her? “
Jackie froze, considering. He was talking about fucking her! That wouldn’t be good. On the other hand… it would feel great…Monica was teasingly tracing her wet folds right now. Not giving her any real contact. Her nipples hurt so bad pleasure was a welcome distraction. Except the pleasure of the tracing fingers just wasn’t getting her anywhere. Going without another climax was intolerable.
“Fishy, you’ve been a ‘Good Girl’. You were brave and obedient taking your piercing. Your first piercings…. What do you think, does a good girl like you deserve a reward as wonderful as my cock shooting sperm inside her? “
He was ugly, mean, and demeaning. But, he had a point. She did deserve something…. Arrogant little bastard! She would show him she was good enough to take his cock and absorb his sperm. She sensed her line of reasoning was all wrong, felt a deep disquiet, but ignored all that and obeyed her more immediate need to have sex.
Jackie spoke without knowing what she was going to say, “Yes, I deserve it. I earned your cock! “
“It isn’t up to you, but, in this case, I agree. Get your lazy self up and impale that naughty ass on my dick. I’ll be sitting and you’ll face outward from me. That way I don’t have to look at your ugly face. Besides, I’m sure Firecrotch wants a taste of your pussy. “
Jackie clumsily gained her feet and nearly staggered with dizziness. His commands confused her, “My ass? You mean -”
“I know what I mean, dumb Fishy. I’m an ass man. My fish will have to swim upstream your muddy backwater. Pull that butt plug out. Don’t bother licking it clean I need my cock in you now! “
The harsh urgency in Little Johnson’s voice made Jackie rush to follow his orders even though she was rushing towards something she’d rather avoid. Like running towards a cliff’s edge when she really wanted to live. She’d didn’t have time to be angry. Her lust was making almost any treatment from him acceptable.
She stepped out of the vibrating panties and pulled out the butt plug which she simply dropped on the floor. Her ass felt appallingly empty but relieved when she had removed the butt plug. She knew both those feelings were going to be banished momentarily.
Jackie realized that what she wanted had no significance now. Not to them obviously and not even to herself. She knew she would follow their directions no matter what they were. What they wanted was more important than what she wanted. It was unfair and wrong but felt… appropriate.
Under their avid watchful eyes Jackie turned and clumsily backed up and lowered her ass until it bumped his cock. His cock bounced around as she tried to center it and it left dots of seminal fluid on her inner ass cheeks with each contact. “This is your reward so you do the work. I’m just going to sit here. You find a way to get my cock up your ass. “
It was a struggle because her hands were still handcuffed behind her back and she couldn’t actually grab his cock and center it on her little butt hole. Monica held her shoulders so she didn’t unbalance and fall. Monica’s breasts swayingly contacted her face. Jackie felt the smooth coolness of her nipple rings. Her own breasts felt incredibly heavy due to her new rings.
Finally the large head of Little Johnson’s cock was perfectly centered and she started a steady impalement onto it. It felt… amazing. Not good but not bad either. Very uncomfortable but not as painful as she had dreaded. The pains in her nipples made other pains suffered less substantial and her strange arousal made pain into something other than a bad thing.
The forbidden nature of her performance expanded her lust higher and higher like a barometer as his shaft rose ever higher in her rear channel. Once she got it all the way in as far up her rear as she possibly could, with Little Johnson grunting loud enjoyment behind her, she suddenly felt sure she could come like this.
For a minute she got used to it, slowly pulling up and sitting back down more rapidly, continuously replaying her initial self-impalement. Little Johnson’s little hands on her hips and Monica’s hands on her shoulders simply steadied her and kept her on course, they let her do all the work. She picked up speed as did her heat. After the first minute they tilted her so her back was resting on Little Johnson’s bearded face and small torso. Her knees were spread wide to either side, knees up, feet on the sofa. He began delivering vicious half-bites to her back. Half-Dwarf half-biter! Feeling hysterical she almost laughed despite the nasty pain and would have but her passion and need extinguished the impulse.
Monica knelt and stuck her face right into Jackie’s golden nest and steaming vaginal folds. No hesitation, only enthusiasm. Where did they find women like her? Did they find them, or, did they make them?
Her tongue and bumping nose delivered unbelievable sensations to Jackie. They were making quick work of her. She felt herself unraveling. It made her eagerly slam her ass hard as can be all the way down to the base of the cockand the then again and again. She actually thought, bizarrely, that tere wasn’t enough pain, she needed more.
Monica had a hard time keeping her face in contact with Jackie’s pussy and, more importantly, Jackie’s pussy wanted to keep the tongue twirling on it so Jackie altered her ass self-impalement. By arching back and then just sliding her ass channel a couple inches up and then back down Jackie kept Monica’s mouth in place. Her ass still burned with friction.
Eyes hooded with passion she peered down the front of her pumping body. Besides the fascinatingly wicked sight of another woman’s face munching her pussy, she could now see, in all their majesty, the abused state of her nipples.
The nipples were huge, bigger than she’d ever seen. Stiff from arousal and her body’s reaction to the piercing. The nipple rings were not sliding around or rotating at all. The pressure held them in place. They looked huge and heavy and they were obviously dragging down the tips of both breasts. They weren’t cute accentuations. These were the nipple rings of a slave.
The only way Jackie could comprehend the surreal sight was as an added turn on.
Jackie howled her orgasm. Little Johnson grunted his own. He was happy to join her. He had mastered self-control long ago and had simply waited for the inevitable to happen inside her. To master others he had first needed to master himself and now he was able to time these things perfectly.
Jackie wasn’t sure she really felt the sperm leaving his cock to splash inside her rear channel but she felt how her self-impalement suddenly became easy and slick with the dose of come lubrication. Monica’s tongue worked in a frenzy all over her pulsing pussy and her full lips mock bit at Jackie’s vulnerably extended clitoris.
Jackie didn’t know if she came tremendously once over a long time or many times blended together continuously. She knew it was wonderful, a new God to worship.
***
When Jackie woke up just past 3:00 AM she did not open her eyes at first. She remembered how exhausted she’d been after the sex. Her first -- and she told herself definitely her last -- ménage a trois. It had been a memorable Sunday night.
She remembered that as she initially laid there after sex she’d heard Little Johnson and Monica moving about her apartment, occasionally whispering. She hadn’t been concerned at the time but felt a little unease now. Sore, too. Especially her ass, inside and out, and her poor nipples.
She kept her eyes closed a moment longer. Images of herself paddled, pierced, and anally impaled fl
ashed back and forth through her mind. Unbelievable. She’d never thought she’d ever have pierced nipples. Or be paddled. Or suck pussy. Or allow a woman to lick hers. She had never before engaged in anal sex and had never thought she would. Even now she knew a load of Little Johnson’s sperm was up her ass. The thought was disgusting but gave her a strange wicked sense of accomplishment. She was oddly proud of every shameful thing she’d experienced. The abuse she’d endured. The orgasms she had produced. She’d never do any of those things again, of course, but as a one off event it had not been all bad.
When she sat up her body achingly recalled the use it had been put to and her ring-heavy breasts shifted oddly. The blanket they’d tossed on her fell away. When she opened her eyes she saw two photos and a note on the coffee table.
The photos were 8 by 10 glossy print outs. She knew Little Johnson had printed them off on her own computer. One was from the other night and showed Jackie, ass covered in whip welts, looking over her shoulder at the camera while giving herself that humiliating wedgie and pulling one ass cheek outward. She already had that photo. Why had Little Johnson printed it up again?
The other photo was from just hours ago. In it, Jackie was on her knees between Monica’s lush thighs her face about a foot from Monica’s fiery crotch. Jackie could see every detail of Monica’s labial lips and the photo had captured the moment of Monica’s squirting orgasm. Monica was arched backward, hips seeking upward, a spray of droplets clouding into Jackie’s startled but lust-filled face. Jackie noticed with embarrassment that her mouth was open a little at the moment of the photo.
Jackie turned resolutely to the note. She was having trouble keeping track of how much evidence they had of her sluttish immorality. Plenty and enough. She knew they really had her by the short hairs both figuratively and sometimes literally. They probably had a photo of that somewhere. She snorted in self-derision.
Little Johnson seemed to have the same preference for block letters as Wayne Jones:
HERE IS FURTHER ASSISTANCE IN YOUR JONES-IMPOSED QUEST. YOU SAW OUR KING, YOUR KING, COLLECTS EROTIC PHOTOS. HIS NEW TWIST TO THE HOBBY ARE PHOTOGRAPHIC SEGUES. AT LEAST ONE PHOTO OF EACH PEASANT BITCH BUT, BETWEEN INDIVIDUAL PHOTO GALLERIES, A PHOTO OF EACH WOMAN SHARING TOGETHER THE GIFT OF PLEASURE JONES HAS BEQUEATHED THEM.
GIVE THESE TO KING JONES FOR HIM TO ADD TO HIS COLLECTION. THEY MAKE UP THE PERSONALIZED GIFT HE TASKED YOU TO DELIVER. YOUR NEW RINGS ON DISPLAY PROVE YOUR ABILITY TO SPEAK HIS LANGUAGE -- TO SWIM IN HIS WATERS SO TO SPEAK, LITTLE FISHY.
YOU WILL HAVE NO DIFFICULTY ANSWERING HIS QUESTIONS IF YOU ARE HONEST WITH BOTH HIM AND YOURSELF. WEAR VERY SEXY CLOTHES FOR KING JONES WHEN YOU VISIT HIM TUESDAY. MAKE YOUR SLUTTINESS OBVIOUS TO ALL.
P. S. FOR ALL THE HELP FIRECROTCH AND I HAVE GIVEN YOU THERE IS A DEBT YOU WILL REPAY.
Like Hell, she thought, but more by rote than with any actual emotion backing it up.
Now what? Sleep. Clean up in the morning. Heal up until her visit to Mr. Jones on Tuesday afternoon. She would pass his tests, she had to. She knew there was a possible escape out of all this but, to get away, she had to go further in. The captives, Shara Tillings and Carol Milligan, if they were captive and if they were in the ward, were the key. Funny that prisoners could bring her freedom. If she could find them and free them arrest warrants and search warrants could be obtained based on their victim/witness accounts. If Jackie didn’t press charges herself there was a good chance she wouldn’t have to testify. The police would have all those photos and videos. If she was not included as one of the victims evidence showing her could die a silent burial in an evidence room somewhere. She might even talk a detective into destroying them or giving them to her.
She’d be free and independent. Ready for success with a novel and talk show appearances. She could imagine flamboyant blurbs advertising a talk show appearance:”Meet the beautiful Psychoanalyst who saved two other Psychoanalysts from sex slavery in an asylum. “It would be amazing, even better than Dr. Robert Arlington’s original plan for success. It would make the ordeals she’d undergone and the trials that may lay before her all worth it in the end.
Jackie laid back on the damp come-stained sofa. No point avoiding the mess until she cleaned up in the morning. She could smell the flowery aroma of Monica and the earthworm odor of Little Johnson.
As she fell back asleep Jackie couldn’t help but wonder if her plan was what it seemed, a path to daring success, or just her own internal means to string herself along and web herself further in compromising sexual submission. She was still a free woman, free at her core, but she knew now that was not a permanent or unalterable feature of her personality. She sensed instinctively it would not take all that much more of this treatment to addict her and change her irrevocably. She was risking her soul on this plan. She should just walk away while she could. But… she didn’t want to do that…
Chapter 4
Jackie was shaking her head on and off during the drive from her apartment to the Goethner-Varner Mental Health Hospital. It was because she was taking inventory of her situation and she still couldn’t believe it and couldn’t avoid it either.
As she drove she said self-affirmations to get herself centered and redefined correctly, fix the damage done to her psyche, “I am a strong woman. “
Robert, an elder colleague she respected and hoped to partner with in his business had sent her on a simple but important mission to cement their partnership. A mission that could also insure a possibly dangerous man, Wayne Jones-- known in the flashier media outlets as “King Jones” -- would not be freed.
“I am confident. “
Wayne Jones had taken her mental castle by storm and did it without lifting a finger of his own. His philosophical agility and alarming turns of thought had kept her off balance. He stayed always on the offensive, challenging her. Jackie was used to asking the questions and analyzing the answers, not the other way around. She’d assumed, as his psychological judge and jury, Jones would cooperate or at least try not to offend her. She’d expected control.
“I am in charge. “
Instead, Jones seemingly controlled everything. The Institute, the guards, the staff, his fans, the conversations he and Jackie had, and now even Jackie’s own actions. He locked in her cooperation through the hard efforts of followers like Little Johnson and Monica. Jackie knew there were many more like them out there that she had yet to cross paths with and sincerely hoped she would avoid. Jones had just relaxed in his Institute suite while his will was worked for him. Very much like a conquering king watching in comfort as his army took the castle.
“I will overcome. “
Jackie marveled at the things she’d done, that they had done to her, and the things that were to come all because of Jones, all for Jones. It made her feel tremendous frustration but she also felt grudging respect for Jones’ masterful control of his environment and all the people passing through it. Being able to pull the strings of so many people was incredible but Jackie admitted she was most impressed at his thorough manipulation of her.
“I am independent. “
He had completely turned the table on her. Instead of being in judgment of him and Jones trying to prove himself to her, she was near to completing an all too dubious quest to prove herself to him. A complete reversal of the natural order though she knew Jones would be quick to disagree with that assessment. His idea of the natural order was very different from her own and no doubt he had himself at the top of the food chain.
“I will succeed. “
At a stoplight she took stock of her apparel. It was so embarrassing! The black skirt was almost a mini and very tight even on her slim hips. It was suitable for a dance club. It was not suitable for performing the work of a professional Psychoanalyst. The black suit jacket matched it but the violent top she wore was thin, almost see-through and she wasn’t wearing a bra. The suit jacket covered her breasts b
ut, if she spread it open a little it would be easy to reveal violet-tinted breasts topped by shockingly pierced nipples with the too-large too-heavy silver rings.
“I am professional. “
She wore a sexy outfit as commanded. She chose the transparent top in the hopes she would be able to display the rings to Jones without actually technically baring herself. It would be a small hidden victory, a mere technicality she could retreat behind, but it seemed ever so important at the moment. For the time being, she had to toe the line and obey orders. She was far too compromised by Jones’ minions Little Johnson and Monica to resist openly. That Little Johnson. . . How could she dislike the little man so much and for such good reasons and, in the end, have such incredible climaxes?
“I have limitless willpower. “
Damn. Anyone at the Institute seeing her would be able to guess she was under the influence of Jones now. It would be obvious. She felt a red shame spread on her face and a heat spill in her belly. If they could see the photos in her purse now -- her “gift” to Jones -- what would they all think of her then? They would think… they would know her… to be a slut.
“I will accomplish what I set out to do. “
She would play along, try to secure the freedom of Tillings and Milligan but, if she failed in that, at the very least she had no intention of giving Jones his freedom. She didn’t really think he was insane or physically dangerous at this point but he was dangerous in other ways. He could not be allowed to run free abusing, taming, and enslaving women while corrupting other men to serve him and imitate his ways. In Jackie’s opinion, even if the women were willing, it was all wrong.
Mastering Jacqueline Page 5