Becoming Ghaniyah- A Tale of Bondage and Submission

by Paul Blades

  She would think long and hard on it later. There would be plenty of time to do so. The experience of being on her knees to him, of being helplessly bound, globally in his control, and having his hot meat in her mouth, hearing his moans of pleasure, ignited her lusts. She pressed her knees together tightly. She began to issue moans of her own. Her breasts became tight and hot. Her nipples turned as rigid as nails. She started to yearn for the taste of his salty seed, to feel his meat jump and throb within her mouth. Her heart was pounding, her brain was on fire. She couldn’t move her head fast enough, make her lips tight enough, make her tongue long enough.

  And then he came. He gripped her head tightly. His spume jetted into her mouth. She drank it down hungrily. He moaned, she moaned. He was pistoning his cock back and forth, she was striving to match it.

  A feeling of joy filled her as his motions wound down. She suckled on his cock lazily, drawing out every drop of his salty flow, extending as long as she could the aftershocks of his climax.

  His motions came to a stop and he slid his softening cock from her mouth. Leslie was out of breath. A feeling of contentment flowed through her. And then she looked up.

  Faraq’s steely eyes were peering down at her. It was then that what had just happened emerged in her conscious mind. She felt sickened with shame. To have taken pleasure from her abuser, to have had her passion stoked by the man’s callous rape of her mouth was the most perverted thing she could think of. There was something wrong with her, she knew it. She began to cry again. It was like some horrible nightmare where some evil spirit had taken control of her. She was going insane. She knew it, she just had to be!

  He was amused by her consternation. Her reactions were not that unusual. Stimulated by the pheromones exuded by his loins, the tactile sensation of a hot penis in her mouth, her nudity, her powerlessness, the contagiousness of his passion, all these things often overrode a woman’s natural revulsion against being used against her will. We are still essentially animals, after all, and the sexual impulse is quite strong in all of us, not withstanding the shame we might feel when it overflows its civilized bounds.

  He replaced his glowing tool and zipped up his pants. She seemed to him to know that the next phase of her torment was to commence as he heard her unhappy whine. He scooped up her gag from the bed and reinstalled it in her mouth, buckling it tightly behind her head. He took a handful of her hair and pulled her to her feet. He pushed her over to the foot of the bed. It was just a mattress and box spring on top of a metal frame. It came up a little more than two and a half feet from the floor. The mattress was covered with a white, cotton sheet. He ordered her to kneel on the bed and to lean over, putting her forehead on the mattress and spreading her legs.

  It was important now for everything to go on in the right order. He picked up the cylindrical object and checked its settings. He thought about putting it on low, but then selected medium instead. He crouched down behind her and rubbed his hand over her exposed slit. He chuckled to himself when he found it well lubricated. Applying the nose of the object to the gap between her denuded love lips, he slid the object in.

  Leslie felt the object push aside the tender membranes of her canal. It filled her uncomfortably. It was wider than a prick and cool. It had a prong on its end that slid over her pleasure bud. She knew that the object could only have a nefarious purpose. Her body cringed at the threat that it presented. And she was ashamed not only that her crevasse had been ready to accept it, but also that the cruel man had discovered it to be so.

  “Get up!” she heard him say. Trembling, she crawled off the bed and rose back to her feet. She felt him clip something to the end of the sleeve that held her hands and arms so cruelly bound. He turned her body so that she was facing him. Her eyes sought for any sign of mercy on his face. She saw none.

  Her body trembling with fear, she spread her legs at his command. He crouched down between them. He took hold of the straps that dangled from her confined hands and she could feel him threading them through something on the bottom of the thing he had put inside her. He pulled them forward, ran them up between her breasts and placed them over her shoulders, one on either side of her neck. He turned her around again and threaded the ends through some buckles at the top end of the sheath around her arms. She felt him pulling on them, first one, and then the other. Her hands were pulled downwards and the device was shoved even deeper in her quim. The straps ran tightly over her clit, pressing the prong down hard against it. She could feel the pressure on her shoulders. He went back and forth between the one and then the other, pulling them tighter and tighter, until her back began to arch. She gave out a groan of dismay as she felt him tying off the ends.

  “Is he going to leave me like this?” she worried unhappily. She uttered a futile plea from behind her gag, but he merely pushed her back towards the bed. He picked up something from it and turned her to face him. He had two small devices in his hands. He pulled and teased at her left nipple until it was firm and tall and then applied one of the devices to it. It had a hole in its center and her nipple lodged inside. He turned a dial around the hole and it got smaller and smaller until her nipple was caught painfully. It began to sting even as he moved to her other breast.

  Leslie’s knees went weak and a sickening feeling went through her body as she felt the other device being applied. She whined and shook, making her breast shimmer in his hand. He took hold of her nipple between his thumb and forefinger and gave it a brutal twist. “Stay still!” he spat out at her. Fearful of even worse punishment, she stilled herself while a vision of hours and hours of upcoming torment ran through her head.

  When he was done, he pressed down on the devices with the palms of his hands. The devices had sharp teeth on the sides closest to her skin and she could feel the tips prick at her. “Ohhhhhhhhhhh, please don’t do this!” she moaned. He paid the murmur emerging from her mouth no attention.

  Pulling on the strap that ran between her breasts, he brought her closer to the bed. He pushed her until she was forced to kneel on it. Then he guided her up further to its head. Once her feet were just over the edge of the bed, he pushed her over frontward. He held on to the straps that connected to her confining sleeve, lowering her slowly. When her breasts came into contact with the sheet covered mattress, the points on the terrible devices he had installed pressed in sharply on her areolas. She whined intently and tried to pull off of them by arching her back, but his heavy hand pressed on her neck, forcing her down again.

  He worked quickly after that. He reached between her thighs and activated the cylinder lodged in her quim. It began an intense vibration. He strapped her thighs tightly together just above the knees. He went down to her ankles and pushed them together. He tied them parallel to each other, ankle to ankle. Taking her feet, he doubled them back towards her head. He tied them off to the strap around her thighs, pushing them down firmly as far as they would go. Leslie moaned as she felt the immediate strain on her thighs. As a final touch, he ran straps back from the sides of her gag to the sheath around her arms and tied them to a ring in its middle. This lifted her head up and prevented her from moving it from side to side.

  Leslie was, for all practical purposes, completely immobile. She was compacted as tightly as a woman could be. She whined and struggled at her bonds and called out through her gag rabid supplications not to be left like this. The prongs were digging deeply into her breasts. Her muscles were strained all over. The gag had been pulled even deeper into her mouth. And the buzzing in her crevasse was starting to drive her mad.

  Faraq stood and took in his handiwork. They often left girls like this in the old days. It made them docile and compliant thereafter. They had used dildos then too, of course, but this one had a feature that he hadn’t seen before and he was curious on how well it would work. He took out another cigarette and waited.

  Leslie knew that he was behind her and watching. As long as she was still in the room there was still a hope that he wouldn’t leave her alone in t
his hellhole, bound into a cruel immobility. She knew that she couldn’t stand it for very long. The only things she could move were her toes, her eyes and her hips slightly from side to side. “Why is he doing this?” she asked herself frantically. “I’ll do anything he wants! I’ll fuck him, I’ll suck his cock! I’ll be his slave! Please, please, God, don’t let him leave me like this! Please!”

  The incessant buzzing in her pussy was beginning to drive her lusts. It vibrated against her clit, stoking her desires. She knew that if it kept on, eventually she would come. “Maybe that’s what he’s waiting for,” she thought hopefully. “He’s going to stand there and watch me come and come and....”

  It was then that it struck her. A fierce jolt of electricity exploded from the device in her quim. She released a long, piteous scream. The jolt lasted about three seconds. Her whole body tensed as if it could burst its bonds. When it stopped she broke out into woeful sobs.

  Faraq saw her body jump. It had worked fine. He took a last drag off of his cigarette, blowing the blush grey smoke toward the ceiling and then twisted out the lit end into the toilet. It made a little hiss when it struck the water. He put the butt in his pocket.

  Leslie was now way beyond distraught. “…eeeeeease! …eeeeeeeeeease! ...eeeeeeeeeeesae!” she was screaming at the top of her lungs. She pulled and tugged desperately at her bonds. The only result was to grind the teeth of the device on her nipples deeper into her breasts.

  “….on’t …eave …eee …ike …is! I… …egging …ou! ...eeeeeeeease! …eeeeeeeeeease!” she screamed.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw him walk to the door. “This can’t be happening! This can’t be happening! Oh, god! Oh god!” she thought, a fervid panic forming in her mind. “…eeeeeeeeeease!” she screamed again.

  Faraq noted her distress with satisfaction. Her sounds were basically indecipherable, in fact, barely audible, but he knew what she was saying. As a final touch, he went to the sides of the bed, connected straps to rings on the sides of the sheath over her arms and tied them off to rings in side of the bed frame. This would prevent her from rolling to her side to relieve the pain in her breasts.

  Stepping back and taking in his handiwork, he could see her muscles straining and rippling. The straps holding her gag in place pulled her head back as far as it would go, forcing it to tilt backwards and directing her vision high up on the cold, stone wall in front of her. Her feet arched and her body shook. Her back had a slight curve to it and her shoulders quivered. He could hear the merciless buzzing of the device in her purse. He had been told that the battery would last at least six hours.

  He paused for a moment at the door. He saw her widened, frightened, hysterical eyes peering sideways at him. He gave her a small, ironic smile. Then he flicked out the light and stepped out.

  CHAPTER SIX

  When the door to Leslie’s cell shut, it extinguished all light and sent a slight echo through the room. When she heard the faint sound of the outer door being slammed shut, sealing her prison from all contact with the outside, a wave of profound and soul wrenching sorrow passed through her.

  Her eyes strained to pick up any image in the blackness that surrounded her. She tried to remember what the room looked like, tried to recall her position in it. She tried to imagine her remote, isolated, inescapably bound body in relation to the rest of the house. There were people up there, walking around, doing their daily tasks. How many of them even knew that she had been locked away in its cold, dark dungeon? Did Mr. Moussa know? Did Mrs. Moussa? How long would Faraq keep her like this? How would she ever stand it?

  She stirred her body slightly. The fierce pinpoints on her breasts tore at her skin. She realized that she would have to remain completely still. But she knew that she would not be able to. Sooner or later, the fiendish device in her pussy would shock her again. And then her body would jump and shake and tense beyond her control. It took her a few minutes to realize that she was still crying. She tried to stop it, knowing that it would just drive her mad.

  “I can do this! I can do this!” she repeated to herself. “I’ll try and think of something, anything to keep my mind off it. I’ll try and pretend I’m somewhere else. At home, in my bed, safe and sound.”

  But the buzzing in her wounded crevasse would not let her. Every time she was about to take her mind somewhere else, it crept insidiously into her consciousness. Her pussy began to tingle. She could feel her passions start to rise again.

  She tried to fight it. The last shock she had received came just as her lusts had started to boil. She feared desperately that that was what had triggered it. She had to fight off the demonic stimulation of her defenseless canal! She just had to! Her mind strained to push the feelings aside.

  It did not work. Her lusts continue to grow and grow. The vibrations against her love button sent an agonizing thrill through her. She wriggled her hips. She bit down on the gag in her mouth. She clamped her eyes closed as tightly as she could. She tried to will it to stop. But it just went on and on and on.

  Then she could fight it no more. Her body began to trill with pleasure. Her thighs started to quiver. Her feet arched. Her body became taut. She moaned.

  When her pussy began its steady, ecstatic convulsions, she groaned and her body shook. Her breasts were forced into a reverberating motion that sent jolts of pain into her that mixed with the messages of pleasure. She groaned staccato-like, relishing each violent throb within her.

  When her orgasm subsided, her pussy continued to trill as the remorseless buzzing went on. She was relieved that the shock had not been triggered by her rising or completed lusts. But she knew that it was coming. “It has to be coming,” she thought frantically. “It has to be co….”

  And then it struck again. She screamed and her body jumped. It was a pain like she had never experienced, had never known could exist. Her chest heaved as she sobbed and sobbed. She desperately tried to stop as each deep breath sent another jolt of pain to her through her breasts. She had just started to recover, when the fierce shock deep within her came again, followed by another a few seconds later. She sobbed and sobbed and sobbed for many minutes. When she finally stopped, she realized that her lusts were rising again. She bit down on her gag and moaned.

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  Upstairs, later, Faraq was finishing his dinner. He had spent some time on the telephone, making arrangements about some of Mr. Moussa’s deals. He had discussed certain security arrangements with Mrs. Moussa. He had made one of his inspections of the family cars to make sure that they had not been tampered with. His thoughts turned, from time to time, to the American slut imprisoned in the basement. The image of her body convulsing when the first shock hit her was an enticing one. He almost wished that he could have stayed the entire time. The procedure, however, called for total isolation of the victim and so that wouldn’t do. He would watch her another time, when her suffering was less for her edification than for his amusement.

  Sitting at the kitchen table, he always took his meals there, sipping the dregs of his thick coffee, he looked at his watch. It had been three hours. That was certainly enough time to show the girl who was boss. He didn’t want to drive her insane. She would be worthless then. No, he wanted a totally subservient slut who would jump at his every command without hesitation, would ‘accommodate’ the other members of the house enthusiastically and without complaint, and would provide a beneficial source of relaxation and amusement for Mr. Moussa.

  He had enough pull with the local governmental bureaucrats to delay her trial for many months, maybe years. When she wore out her usefulness, Captain Khalil and his virulently cruel mistress could have her.

  Leslie was in the midst of another explosive orgasm when he opened the outer door to her prison and she did not hear it. She was still frantically trying to control her heaving chest when the door to the inner cell opened and the light was flicked on. She cast a piteous, supplicative glance at Faraq as he entered. The sudden influx of light blin
ded her. He went past her quickly, out of her line of vision. She waited desperately for the feel of his hands untying her and was bitterly disappointed when he did not.

  It had been an anguish filled three hours. Her muscles had gone way past soreness and into a dull pain. Her pussy was aching and tired. Her mind was strained to the point of psychosis, fearing that any given second her pussy could explode into excruciating pain.

  She heard the man light another cigarette. This signaled to her that her time of liberation had not yet come. She sobbed. She wanted to beg the man with all of her being to release her, to promise to fulfill his most scandalous wishes, to be his slave for all time, anything to win her freedom. She knew, though, that, even if she could talk to him, it would not terminate her torment one second earlier.

  Having light all around her changed, somewhat, the quality of her experience. Being in the absolute darkness had been hellish, like she was floating in another dimension where she was the only living soul. Now she could see that she was right where the cruel man had left her and, by his presence, knew that she was not alone in the world.

  Her pussy’s responses to the interminable buzzing inside it had wound down somewhat over the last three hours. She didn’t know how many orgasms she had had, but she felt that her supply had been exhausted. There was something, though, about knowing that the man who had bound her so cruelly, who had stuffed her pussy with the infernal device, was watching, that made her lusts begin to rise once more.

  It was something about the shame of being naked and in his power. That and his obvious knowledge of what was going on inside her, and had been going on for the longest, longest time. And the fact that she was his to use at any time and in any way he wanted. She hated herself for it, but nonetheless could not help herself. She didn’t want to be the family sex slave, but the thought of it, what they would do to her, make her do, made her blood run hot.