Becoming Ghaniyah- A Tale of Bondage and Submission

by Paul Blades

  “You are awfully careless with the State’s property, aren’t you?” the woman asked. There was a hint of amusement in her voice.

  “Y,yes, sayyadati,” Leslie croaked. “I’m sorry! I didn’t know!”

  “My guards here think you should be taught a lesson. Do you need to be taught a lesson?”

  Leslie started to cry. “N,no, sayyadati,” she pleaded. “It won’t happen again! I promise! I didn’t know,” she repeated.

  “Since this is your first day, I’m going to let you off the hook, as you say. The next time I won’t be so forgiving. Do you understand?”

  “Y, yes, sayyadati! Thank you! I promise it won’t happen again!” Leslie said emphatically, her voice whiney and shrill.

  “My name is Sergeant Malikah. It means ‘queen’. Captain Khalil is the commander of this prison, but I am its ruler. Do you understand?”

  “Y,yes, sayyadati,” Leslie replied. Her toes hurt so bad she didn’t know if she could keep up on them for much longer. Her arms felt like lead and her shoulders ached terribly. She was afraid that if she lost position, the sergeant might not be so forgiving. Tears were streaming down her face.

  The sergeant ran her eyes up and down Leslie’s delectable body, appraising it. She had a baton in her hand and she brought it up between Leslie’s legs, brushing it along her exposed love lips. She had a pensive look on her face, like she was under a spell. Her eyes were following the slowly sawing baton. And then she broke it off.

  “You can get dressed now,” she spat out. “Corporal Hanin will take you back to your cell. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  With that, the sergeant barked a command to the other guards and then turned and left.

  Leslie looked carefully at the other guards before she lowered herself from her toes. She went down slowly, ready to jump back up at the slightest indication that she was committing a sin. One of them, a disappointed look on her face, bent over and picked up her dress from the floor and threw it at her. Leslie caught it and hurriedly, gratefully, put it back on. The guard nodded her head toward the doorway. Leslie crossed her arms behind her back and followed.

  When they got back to her cell, her cellmate was lying on her bunk. She was reading a copy of the Koran. She gave Leslie an amused look as she entered. Leslie went straight to her own bunk and lay down.

  She realized what a close run thing it had been. If Sergeant Malikah hadn’t come in, she was sure the other guards would have given her a beating. She had been overjoyed to hear the sound of English. There was finally someone she could talk to, that she could understand. She didn’t feel much like talking to her cellmate, whatever her name was. She had stolen her towel, her toothbrush and her dinner.

  She was desperately hungry. She knew she wouldn’t have the chance to eat anything until breakfast, whenever that was. Her stomach growled and she put her hand on it, rubbing it as if somehow that would make the hunger pangs go away. Her body ached where she had been struck.

  Sergeant Malikah, the Queen, had said she would see her tomorrow. Was that a good or a bad thing? The woman seemed civil and civilized. But there was something about her that made Leslie fear her. She had noticed the way that she had looked at her pussy and rubbed it with her baton. Why did she want to see her? Would she make her submit to more foul acts? It seemed like everyone here was sex crazed. She closed her eyes and issued a desperate prayer. “Oh, please, God, let Mr. Moussa come here tomorrow! Please get me out of here! Please!” She turned her face to the wall.

  About an hour later, a whistle sounded. One of the guards came walking by, letting her baton clatter over the bars to their cell. Leslie’s cell mate put her book away in the box under her bed. Leslie called out to the guard.

  “Please! Please! Can I talk to you,” she asked plaintively. The guard stopped. She stared at Leslie. She repeated her question in French. The guard gave her no response. “I need to know, will I get to see a lawyer? Can I make a phone call?”

  The guard slammed her baton on the bars to the cell and shouted something at Leslie that she took to mean, “Be quiet!”

  Something snapped in her. All of her mean treatment, all of the insults to her body and her psyche rushed into her brain. “Please!” she begged. “I need to get out of here! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to do anything wrong! Won’t somebody listen to me? Please!”

  The guard’s face turned red. She slammed her baton on the bar again, ordering Leslie angrily to quiet herself. But the dam had been broken. Leslie couldn’t have stopped if her life depended on it.

  “Please take me out of here! I can’t stand it! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” She had broken out into miserable sobs. She knew that her pleading was useless, but she had to do something or she would go insane.

  The guard just stood there glaring at Leslie. She said something that sounded ominous and then she walked away.

  “Oh, you have big trouble now,” Leslie’s cellmate said.

  Leslie looked at her. What did she mean? What were they going to do to her?

  Her answer came a moment later. The original guard came back with two of her sisters. She was holding some kind of leather thing in her hand. She smiled at Leslie, tapping her baton on her thigh as one of the other guards unlocked the cell. The cell door swung open. They were on her in a second.

  Two of the guards jumped on her, grabbing her arms and pinning her to the bed. The third guard took hold of her cheeks and started squeezing them.

  “What are you doing! Let me go! Let me go! You’re hurting me!” Leslie shouted. She saw that the leather object had a long, thick prong on it. The guard was trying to jam it into her mouth. “Mmmmmmmmm! Mmmmmmmmmm!’ Leslie moaned, her lips sealed tight. She was shaking her head wildly, trying to prevent the prong from going between her lips.

  The other two guards placed their knees on her arms and took hold of her head. One held it still while the other pushed on her jaw. Leslie felt her teeth coming apart.

  “Mmmmmmmmmm! Mmmmmmmmmmm!” she moaned again. She was twisting and contorting her body to try and get loose. But the women were too strong and determined. They had obviously done this before. The end of the prong started to probe between her teeth. The guard who was holding it was pressing down harder and harder. Her jaw started to creep down. “Naaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” Leslie called out. And then the thing went in.

  The prong was attached to a thick, leather shield. It banged up against her lips. The prong filled her mouth and went almost all the way to her throat. “Mmmmmmmmmmmm! Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!” Leslie screamed. A triangle type strap went over her nose and then was pulled back over her head. The shield encompassed her whole jaw. The guards took straps leading from it and, pressing Leslie’s head forward, buckled them behind it. They pulled it very tight, jamming her jaw closed, pressing her teeth into the rude intruder in her mouth. Two of the guards then grabbed her arms and brought her wrists together. The original guard had a long, leather thong and she tied Leslie’s wrists off quickly. Then they brought her arms back and tied it off to the head of the bed.

  Their work done, the three guards got up and stood there, appreciating their work. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Leslie tried to scream. “Please don’t do this! Don’t leave me like this!” But her voice emerged only as grossly distorted sounds. “Pllllllleeeeeeeeeeease!” she shouted again desperately.

  The guards laughed. One of them leaned over. “You learn be quiet,” she said merrily. She reached out and tweaked Leslie’s breast hard.

  “Owwwwwwww!” Leslie screamed. But the sound that emerged was low and soft. The guards laughed again. They left, slamming the cell door shut behind them.

  Leslie desperately pulled and yanked at her bound hands. They were tied together tightly by experts and would not loosen. She shook her head violently. She bit down hard on the leather mass inside her mouth. She screamed again. It was no use. There was nothing she could do. She broke down and cried.

  After a while, her sobs subsided. She heard the striking of a match and t
hen smelled the unmistakable smell of tobacco. She looked over. Her cellmate was smoking a hand rolled cigarette. She was smiling mockingly at her. “I bet you learn good now,” she said.

  A moment later, the lights in the corridor dimmed. The cell became darkened. Every third one of the fluorescent lights was still on casting an eerie light into their cell. She could see it gleaming in her cell mate’s dead eyes. She turned her face to the wall.

  She lay there for a long time commiserating with herself. It had been the hardest day of her life. It was the worst thing that had ever happened to her. She thought of her home in Philadelphia, her mother and father, her sister. She wanted desperately to go home. She would never travel anywhere again. She just wanted a quiet life where no one would bother her. She would never do anything bold or daring again. She had learned her lesson.

  Finally, she fell asleep. She had dark, disturbing dreams. Her body twisted and turned. In one of the dreams, something had gotten hold of her leg and was pulling it. She tried to pull back, but whatever it was was too strong. She tried to move her leg, but it was held fast. When she felt something on her other leg, she awoke. Her cell mate was on her bed! She was naked! She had hold of her left leg and was tying it with something to the rail under her mattress. She had pushed her leg back so that it was almost up by her hip.

  Leslie began to struggle. She tried to kick the woman away. She yelled into her gag. But she was too late. The woman had some kind of cloth. She had tied it around Leslie’s ankle and was pulling the knot closed tightly which bound her to the bed frame. Leslie’s legs were spread wide. Her short skirt had ridden up to her lap. She tried desperately to yank her legs free, but they had been tied too tightly. The woman was kneeling between her legs. Leslie couldn’t see her face in the darkness, but she got the distinct impression that the woman was leering at her. A hollow formed in her belly. “Please!” she whined. The sound of her supplication barely emerged from her mouth.

  “Now we have some fun,” the woman whispered. She began to unbutton Leslie’s dress. Leslie tried to shake and squirm, but she was powerless to prevent it. When the buttons were undone, the woman spread the bodice open wide, letting her large, plump breasts fall out.

  “Mmmmmmmmm!” the woman moaned appreciatively. “Nice titties!” she whispered. She placed her hands on them, caressing them weighing them. “Niiiiiiiice!” she repeated. She leaned over and subsumed the nipple on Leslie’s left breast into her mouth. She suckled on it slowly and gently. Her left hand was on Leslie’s other breast, squeezing and caressing it. The hot mouth brought a tingle to Leslie’s loins. “Noooooooo!” she screamed, making only a low gurgling sound. She bucked her hips and arched her back trying the throw the woman off. She abandoned Leslie’s breast and took hold of her nose, squeezing it shut. Leslie immediately became desperate for air. “Mmmmmmmmmmmm! Mmmmmmmmmmm!” she moaned.

  The woman whispered in her ear. “You better be still, prostitute, or I suffocate you. You wake up tomorrow dead. Eh? You want?”

  “Mmmmmmmmmmm!” Leslie moaned, shaking her head desperately.

  “Then you lie quiet, little whore. You lie back. Enjoy it.”

  The woman released Leslie’s nostrils. She stroked her head a couple of times, staring into her eyes. “So pretty,” she said, her voice low and tremulous.

  The impassioned woman bent down and took hold of the hem of Leslie’s dress. She pulled it up her belly until it was under her breasts. It wouldn’t go any further until the back of the dress was pulled up too. When she went to pull the back of the dress up, Leslie kept sitting on it firmly in an attempt to frustrate her. The woman merely took hold of Leslie’s nipples, twisting them hard, making Leslie whine with pain. This time, when the woman went to pull up the back of her skirt, Leslie sadly relented, lifting her buttocks so that it would come free.

  The woman pushed her dress up all the way to her neck. Leslie was completely nude from the neck down. She felt frightened. Her breasts were bare and vulnerable as was her belly and her sex. The woman stroked Leslie’s leather covered face several times and whispered, “We start all over now, eh?”

  She leaned over and began to kiss Leslie around her face, her neck. Leslie could feel her breasts pressing up against her own, her bare hips against her naked thighs. She moaned and squirmed as the heat of the woman’s body started a glow in her own. She whined and her bound hands strained to free themselves. She could feel the woman’s hot tongue as it scoured her flesh. It ran under her chin and then down her neck. It floated over her chest and between the gap of her breasts. Then the mouth seized a nipple, the tongue washing it. Her other breast was captured by her rough hand. It gently massaged it, cupping it, squeezing it.

  Leslie’s loins had started a slow burn. When the mouth shifted teats, she emitted an involuntary moan.

  “Mmmmmmmmmmmm,” the woman hummed. “Such pretty titties. You like, eh? You like? I like. So tasty,” she said under her breath.

  She resumed her oral massage of Leslie’s teat, her right hand taking hold of her other breast. Leslie could feel the hot tongue running over her stiff point. When the woman sucked on it, harder and harder, she could feel a pull in her loins, as if there were a direct connection between the two.

  When the tongue abandoned her breast and began a slow, leisurely descent over her belly, Leslie knew what the woman was going to do. The thought of a woman supping at her crevasse repelled her. The feel of the soft feminine body between her thighs was repulsive to her. And yet her lusts were rising, her breathing was getting deeper, her heart was beating faster. She pushed up with her hips, strained to pull her thighs together, issued a moan of protest, tried to arch her back in an attempt to throw her assailant off. None of these things affected in the slightest way the relentless progress of the tongue and lips to her loins.

  The woman ran her hands over the tender insides of Leslie’s thighs, sending a message of unwanted pleasure to her brain. They ran over her belly, slid over her taut, hot breasts, gave her nipples sharp little pinches. Then they slid down again,, crossed over her belly, went up and down her thighs once more and then settled in the crux of her legs, to each side of her throbbing outer labia and the tongue and the lips of her insistent, unwanted lover took hold of their prize.

  Leslie hissed as the tongue flitted over her stiff nubbin. It circled it, pressed down on it, washed it and then ran the length of her widening divide. The hot hands pressed on and massaged her love lips while the tongue entered her depths. She could feel its tip deep inside.

  “Mmmmmmmmmmm! Mmmmmmmmmmmm!” the woman moaned. She raised her head. “What lovely pussy,” she whispered. “So soft and hot. We going to have such fun together my little whore. I own you now. You belong to me. I’m going to make you scream with pleasure! You see! You see!”

  When the mouth descended down to her burning quim once more, the tongue began to play a lust driving symphony. When the woman took hold of her trilling clit with her teeth, biting down on it just hard enough to send Leslie a tiny message of pain, she moaned. When the lips began a gentle suckle that became gradually harder and harder, Leslie could not help but grind her hips against it.

  But it was when the woman slipped her thumb inside her exposed, helpless, tender rear ring and began a slow, luxurious abrasion of the delicate tissues there, that Leslie became overwhelmed with passion.

  The combination of the active, expert tongue and lips, and the gentle but remorseless sawing of her digit inside her anal passage drove Leslie into delirium. Her need for completion kept growing and growing. A hand sized a breast, squeezing it harshly, the tongue flitted incessantly over her clit. The thumb began a swift, rhythmic traverse over her dainty ring. Leslie tried desperately to hold back. She tightened her muscles, closed her eyes, strained at her bonds, but nothing would stop the inexorable march of her lusts towards explosion.

  When it came, it was as if a jolt of electricity had gone through her. Her body convulsed as her leaky, buzzing channel clamped down on itself again and
again. She moaned deeply, her thighs quivered, her toes curled. Her pussy’s deep, soul wrenching throbs went on and on so fiercely that she felt like her whole body was going to be sucked down into her fevered passage.

  The woman was not satisfied with one climax. She went on, ignoring Leslie’s muffled pleas for cessation. Within a minute, her organ surged again. Leslie’s eyes rolled back, her thighs jerked, her back arched, her pussy burned.

  As her second climax began to abate, the woman slowed her ministrations. She gently rubbed her hands up and down Leslie’s defenseless thighs, cooing and moaning.

  “Mmmmmmmmmmmm!” she moaned. “You like, eh?” she whispered. “Yessssss, you like! Jamilah know how to suck pussy, eh? You learn too. I show you. You mine now. Jamilah show you good time every night. You show Jamilah too. You see.”

  It was the first time Leslie had heard her cell mate’s name. She cringed at the prospect of a nightly assault and being made to serve the pussy of the older, callous woman. It was like she had been dropped into a surreal version of hell where her bodily pleasures were her assigned torment. She whined in dismay.

  Jamilah had risen to her knees. Her hand was gently stroking Leslie’s still throbbing mons. “Mmmmmmmmmm, such a pretty pussy,” she whispered, her voice low and quivering. “But now it Jamilah turn, eh?” she said.

  She leaned forward between Leslie’s forcibly distended thighs. She matched their bellies together. And then she gave Leslie’s quim a long, impassioned stroke of her own. “Mmmmmmmmmmm,” she moaned. “That nice.”

  Lowering her torso onto hers, Jamilah began a series of languorous strokes of Leslie’s sex. She moaned and quivered. She placed her lips on Leslie’s neck, sucking at it, kissing it. Her breasts pushed against Leslie’s. Every few strokes, she would press her pussy down hard against Leslie’s grinding their clits together. Leslie could feel her heat building again. Her mind clouded over. Her thighs pressed against Jamilah’s hips. Her pelvis began a rhythmic motion, encouraging the scouring of her puss. She bit down hard against the infernal presence in her mouth and moaned.