Denise felt the old lady’s hands climb her legs, stroking them softly. She caressed the inside of Denise’s thighs, gently rubbing up against the protective lips of her sex. A small tingle of pleasure coursed through Denise at the seemingly accidental touch. The strong hands pushed up her belly, encircled her flaccid breasts and squeezed them tenderly. Denise, eyes closed, moaned at the pleasurable sensation of the caress of her mounds. She felt Tamara’s thumbs delicately flick her nipples, causing them to rise to tautness. Tamara was now sitting on the table next to Denise’s hip. Holding the breasts firmly, she leaned over and whispered softly soothing words into the young woman’s ears.
The restful pleasure of the massage had turned into a surge of incipient lust. Before she knew it, Denise’s distended slash began to moisten. She raised her head in ineffectual and desultory protest. When Tamara placed her lips on her teat, sucking at it soothingly, Denise laid her head back and succumbed, letting her passion build.
Tamara let her hand flow across Denise’s belly and stroked the insides of her thighs. She shifted breasts and evoked a moan from deep within Denise’s throat. Denise felt the old lady’s sensitive fingers explore the outside of her sex, deftly intruding between the engorging lips. The old lady allowed a finger to stray into the wet gash and trace a line up the entrance of the girl’s sheath to the little, hard button on the top.
Denise sighed as her clit was enflamed by the woman’s touch. She sighed again, as two extended fingers delved into her womb, pressing on the sensitive roof of the canal.
Slowly, but surely, the old lady urged the young woman to pleasure. Denise’s thighs shuddered and she dug her heels into the table. Her breath was coming in heavy gasps as her passion began to overtake her. As she felt her cunt tingle and throb with impending orgasm, Denise thrust her hips at the hand that was exciting her. When she came, she came with her whole body, rocking and shivering with delight. Pulse after pulse of warmth flowed over her. She cried out, her exclamations of ecstasy muffled by the leather plug that filled her mouth. The old lady was murmuring in her ear, urging her to release.
Finally, the throes of pleasure subsided. The hand slowed its ministrations. Tamara was stroking Denise’s hair gently, soothingly. Denise looked into her captor’s eyes with gratitude. Tamara drew her hand from Denise’s womb and waved it under her nose. The pungent smell of her own discharge sent one more shiver of pleasure through the girl.
Tamara’s act of sexual service on Denise put the woman’s other actions in a whole new light for her. Following the carnal massage, the old woman took Denise to the bathroom to bathe her. Every touch of Denise’s flesh by the strange woman was latent with sexual possibilities. As the woman bathed her, stroking the soapy sponge over her breasts and loins, Denise felt a slight arousal. When the old woman leaned against her back while brushing her hair, the warmth of her body echoed in Denise’s loins. Even the little pats and simple caresses heretofore thought of as a mere foible of a slightly mad woman were now all possible precursors to lust.
When the bathing and other toiletries were done, Tamara had one more thing to do. She had Denise lay back on the edge of the large and deep marble tub and spread her legs widely. Involuntarily, Denise’s cunt began to glisten with anticipation. The young girl’s rear was hanging just over the edge of the tile, her heels by her thighs. Tamara had a bowl of hot, steaming water and a small brush. She tossed a bar of soap into the bowl and swirled the brush around until a thick white lather erupted. She then took the brush and applied the lather to the delicate blond bush that surrounded Denise’s cunt. She produced a straight razor from her pocket and, unfolding it, began to sweep great swatches of Denise’s pubic hair away. Denise’s view was of the ceiling as she felt the fine edge of the razor drag across her skin. Her arms were uncomfortably crushed behind her back, but she dared not move lest the old woman be put off her stroke.
When Tamara was done, she rinsed Denise’s loins with a hose and then dried them off with a soft, white cotton towel. The old lady had, of course, been humming some folk tune from her childhood as she worked. She now gleefully addressed Denise in her foreign tongue as she rubbed her hand over the smooth mound. She pulled Denise to a sitting position and went to get a large handheld mirror. She held it under Denise’s loins at an angle so that she could see.
Denise beheld her now child-like cunt. Only a small tuft of blond hair remained, standing inches above the apex to her now prominent mound. Holding the mirror and chattering happily, the old woman spread the lips of Denise’s cunt with her other hand. Denise had never looked upon her own sex so closely before. She was shocked at the clearly defined slit, the clean lines of her nether lips, the small hole that gaped invitingly. She watched, mesmerized as the old lady stroked her finger up the length of the gash between her legs. Seeing, and at the same time feeling, the sensation of her cunt being stroked was an experience so erotic, she gasped. The old woman’s finger tickled the somnolent clit, and Denise watched it rise with excitement. She saw the moisture begin to flow between her lips. The old lady looked up at Denise and smiled, knowingly. She said something that sounded sultry and provocative.
When the old lady thought Denise had seen enough, she pulled the mirror aside and then led the girl from the room by her leash. They came to the top of the stairs and the old man opened the heavy, wooden, locked door at Tamara’s signal. His eyes poured over Denise’s gracious form, her clearly visible sexuality. The old lady just pushed him aside and led Denise to the living room where she affixed the chain to a ring set in the wall near the staircase that led upstairs.
For the next two hours, Denise watched as the old lady came and went. The old man had drifted away, and watching the woman was Denise’s only distraction. She disappeared upstairs for what seemed to be a long time and returned carrying an armload of sheets and pillowcases. Denise was sitting cross-legged on a small, thick throw rug by the bottom of the stairs. Tamara gently patted her head as she walked by.
The room was empty, Tamara off on one of her missions, when Denise saw the form of the man who had cruelly abused her the night before. He had come upon her suddenly and was looming over her, measuring her. Sweat broke out on Denise’s palms as she thought of the man’s brutality to her last night. A pit formed in her stomach. What would he want today, to drive her to distractive pleasure with his iron hard cock or to drag her back down to the dungeon to torment and abuse her?
The man’s bear paw-like hand grabbed Denise’s collar at the ring that was attached in the front and pulled her to her feet. He unhooked the leash from the wall and tugging on it, led Denise away. When he turned to walk up the stairs towards his bedroom, Denise almost broke into tears with relief. As she mounted the steps, her arousal quickened. She knew she was damned, but she yearned for the feel of the dangerous man’s steel like cock in her womb.
When they entered the Turk’s bedroom, he sat her down on the bed. She watched him as he undressed before her, noting the terrible scars that lined his stomach and arms. When he was disrobed, she admired the taut muscles, the broadness of his hips, the thickness of his thighs.
The Turk gazed back at his slave. His cock was hard with anticipation of its burial deep inside Denise’s body. He stepped towards her and pushed her onto her back on the bed. He swung her legs up and guided her to the middle of the firm, expansive mattress. It was a man’s bed, plainly decorated with simple light blue cotton sheets, a pair of thick, hard pillows.
Denise was resting on her bound arms. Her masked face was turned to her master. She felt him spread her legs and watched him absorb the view of her now naked cunt. He leaned over and placed his rough, hot lips upon it.
Denise sighed deeply with pleasure as she felt the man’s stiff tongue probe her welcoming quim. He pushed in and licked the inner folds, dragging his tongue around the circumference of her wet hole. He flicked the tip of his tongue over her hardened clit sending jolts of pleasure through Denise’s body. The mental image of her hairless cunt lavished by t
he man’s thick, hard tongue sent shivers through her. Fucking would never be the same now that she had a clear mental picture of her pussy in arousal.
She was panting hard when the Turk abandoned the gash between her legs and dragged his tongue across her belly and to her breasts. She could feel his stiff manhood against her thigh as his body loomed over her. His hands undid the straps of the mask and he pulled the gag free. He placed his lips upon hers and penetrated her mouth, laying his tongue upon hers, massaging it. Denise was overcome with passion. Her spread legs yearned to wrap themselves around the powerful thighs of the man. She was lost in a dizzying whirl of lust as their lips broke. Before she could think, she murmured softly to the strange man who seemed to own her soul, “Oh, fuck me, please, fuck me. I want your cock.”
Turk’s body jerked back. He looked at Denise, his eyes full of fire. He lashed his hand across her face, smacking it hard, viciously. He rose to his knees and slapped her face again with his other hand.
“Shut the fuck up!” he yelled. Denise was crying with terror. So quickly and unexpectedly had her moment of delirious pleasure been turned into a nightmare of violence. The Turk slapped her again.
“Your mouth is for fucking, cunt!” he roared at her. “No talking, only fucking and sucking dicks!” Denise trembled with fear as Turk pulled himself up over her, his knees to either side of her mouth. His buttocks lay on her breasts, pressing them flat against her chest. His hand grabbed her jaw and squeezed it harshly causing the terrified girl’s mouth to open in a distorted ‘O’. With his other hand he guided his manhood to its entrance. He leaned over so that his mouth was by her ear. He spoke lowly, in a rough, fearsome voice, “Your mouth is for fucking!”
Turk pressed his rigid cock past Denise’s quaking lips, past her tongue, depressing it in her mouth. He pressed it to the entrance of her throat, holding her head still firmly with his massive hands. He paused at the throat’s entrance, waiting for the girl to gain a full appreciation of his message. When she started to gag, he thrust himself in, causing the girl to gurgle and whine. He waited, his cock deep inside Denise’s esophagus, until the flailing of her legs and the bucking of her chest told him that she was about out of air. He pulled his cock out to the edge of her lips, watching as she gasped for breath. When she had had several gulps, he entered the tight, hot passage again. Again he held his cock there while Denise gagged and coughed. When satisfied that she was on the verge of panic, he pulled back.
The next time he drove his cock home, he started a merciless stroking against the walls of Denise’s throat. Each time, he pulled out long enough for Denise to suck in a gasp of air and then plunged ruthlessly down again. He was truly fucking the frightened girl’s mouth.
Nothing could be clearer to her now. Her mouth was for fucking. She was not a person, she was a fucking animal.
When the Turk felt his climax coming, he pressed as far down Denise’s throat as he could go. Denise felt her neck bulge as the fat, hard manhood blocked the passageway, seemingly its entire length. She felt it pulse as the Turk’s white discharge flowed deep inside her. His hot sack rested on her chin, his stomach pressed against her face. His hands gripped her head tightly as he grunted loudly and viciously at each throb, as each spurt of sperm was jetted out. Finally, he was spent, but he let his cock rest sheathed in Denise’s throat until he heard her whine and plead for mercy. He pulled his cock from her mouth, dribbling a strand of cum across her lower lip. She was sobbing heavily, gasping for breath. Disregarding her profound dismay, he grabbed the gag and pushed it home. He buckled it behind her head tightly.
Turk’s hostile lust was not satisfied. She had broken a cardinal rule, had taken advantage of his yearning for tenderness to utter words of need in his presence. He slapped her breasts hard, leaving a bright red mark upon them. Denise squealed in pain. Again and again he slapped them, pushing the girl down each time she tried to rise and bend over to take them from his reach. He then began slapping her thighs and rear, intense, forceful slaps that echoed through the room. He slapped her ass until it burned a bright red. Still not satisfied, he spread her legs and landed two mighty blows directly on Denise’s sex.
Denise moaned and wailed as she was cruelly assaulted. When the Turk’s hand struck her cunt, she doubled over in pain.
Driven by passionate anger, The Turk’s manhood had revived quickly. He pushed the still moaning girl to her stomach and pulled her hips back up so that she crouched on her knees. He pressed his rod against the brown star between the sobbing girl’s cheeks and rammed it home. Denise’s unprepared anus burned as the thick flesh tore at its tissues. Turk pounded away unmercifully, his heat upon him. Denise gave a little muffled cry each time that Turk’s hips slammed against her buttocks. He was leaning over her, his chest pressing her bound arms down, his hands on her shoulders, compacting her into a small ball of abused flesh. He came quickly, with a roar. His hands squeezed the muscles of Denise’s shoulders tightly, capturing the pressure points there, sending a piercing wave of pain throughout her. She emitted, through her gag, a long dismal, desperate moan.
The Turk let his softening cock slide free of the girl’s bowels. He pushed her over callously and grabbed her by the hair. He pulled her head onto his lap and undid the gag once again.
“Clean my cock, slut,” he ordered sternly. He directed her mouth to his flaccid meat and pressed her lips upon it.
“Suck on it until it’s hard again,” he told her, “or I’ll whip you until you bleed.”
Denise needed no reminder of the Turk’s cruelty or the painful torments he could inflict on her. She grabbed the brown stained, wrinkled cock with her lips and sucked it into her mouth. Her stomach lurched as she thought of where the Turk’s dick had been, but soon the acrid taste of her own wastes gave way to the salty flavor of the Turk’s flesh. She breathed deep the aroma of his sweaty loins. As the cock began to harden, her own loins began to melt and burn. She cursed herself, as she could not avoid her own passionate stimulation. The callous man was right, her mouth was for fucking. The sensation of her tongue wrapping itself over the Turk’s shaft, the fullness she felt in her mouth, impassioned her. The Turk’s meat felt right in her mouth. As she bobbed her head up and down, encouraged by the Turk’s tight grip on her hair, she made the connection between the thick wad of leather that she had held stuffed into her mouth continuously since her arrival at this macabre mansion, and the hot manhood that filled it now. Now she would be conscious of its representative nature every minute of the day.
Turk pulled Denise’s head from his loins. She cringed as he filled her mouth again with the long, thick plug and buckled the mask around her head. He pushed her onto her back, knelt between her legs and rubbed his stiff rod along the moistened lips of her cunt. He leaned over her, staring into her face.
“You wanted my cock, slut,” he said to her quietly. “Well here it is.”
Turk pressed the bulbous head of his solid tool past the engorged lips of Denise’s pussy. Slowly, he stroked back and forth. He had come twice within a few minutes and he was content to let his lust grow gradually. Denise regretted his restraint. Her pussy burned and each stroke of the Turk’s cock triggered a wave of pleasure.
The Turk was demonstrating his complete mastery of her. Realizing this, she fought futilely against the rising tide of her lust. Soon, she could no longer hold back and she came, hard, her heels rising and digging into the back of the Turk’s thighs. And yet the Turk kept up his rhythmic stroking of her pulsing sheath. Her spasms of pleasure had just receded when she felt them begin to rise again. She begged heaven for the strength to resist the friction on her pussy’s walls, the long, sensuous trek of the Turk’s cock against her tingling clit.
Three times he made her come. Each time she moaned and gave out muffled cries. Her body shook with convulsive pleasure. After her third orgasm, she could feel the Turk’s thrusts become deeper, stronger. His hips began to slap against hers as his blood rose. A slow, meandering groan escaped his lips
as his cock filled with jism. As he came, he continued his deep, forceful thrusts into Denise’s loins. When she felt the hot liquid fill her sheath, she came again.
The Turk lay heavily atop the panting woman. His lust was spent. Pulling himself from her soggy cunt, he got off of the bed and went into the bathroom.
Denise heard the shower running behind the closed door. She was overcome with the mix of her emotions. Largely, she was ashamed at her wantonness. She felt complicit in her own abasement. She could sense the Turk’s semen as it seeped from her well ploughed holes. Her rear still burned from his invasion. Her jaw ached from his callous assault. Yet she still yearned for his hot cock. She could feel its presence in her mouth as she shifted her teeth around the thick hard gag that filled it. The benumbed girl rolled to her side and drew up her knees. Her back was to the room and she could see the lake through the window, the late morning sun shimmering on it. She heard the bathroom door open and the man’s heavy footsteps. She heard the rustle of cloth as he dressed. She did not stir. The Turk fastened the leash to the back of her collar and linked it to the ring in the headboard. He left the room.
She lay there, enjoying the peace and solitude of the moment. Her thighs were sticky with cum, and the tender soft skin on them stuck together as she shifted her legs. She was nothing but a whore now, she thought. How easy it had been to change from the bright, alert, confident woman she had been to the slavish whore who wet herself at the sight of a rampant cock. Her constant nudity and total availability made everything sexual. Even now, as she lay there in the bed, balled up, she felt the openness of her rear passage, still dilated from the forceful thrusts of her master.
It was not for about thirty minutes that the old woman came for her. Denise did not stir when she heard her enter and so the woman sat next to her on the bed. She stroked Denise’s thigh and sang a little melody to her, rubbing it gently. It was soothing and Denise began to cry softly. What a terrible mixture of cruelty and sweetness, she thought. This morning, the very hand that calmed her now had beat her with a whip.
Slaver's Bait: The Taking of Cheryl Page 7