Compulsion

by Don Julian Winslow

  Logan looked up at the attractive brunette. If the woman found the raunchy words humiliating, her set features showed not the slightest sign of disturbance. She stood there, at loose attention, a competent servant waiting to serve.

  “Yes Sir,” the answer came in the same flat, lifeless tone. For Logan it was all so incredibly amazing, he could only stare in disbelief.

  “And some hot body, huh?” Burns continued. Wouldn’t you just die to have those dynamite legs wrapped around you? And what do you think of those cute boobs of hers. Floppy little titties. Unbelievably sensitive. All you have to do is touch them, and she goes absolutely crazy. And what about that ass of hers? Gorgeous, huh?! Here. Jessica, turn around. Let us see your ass.”

  The girl obediently turned in place, presenting her pert, high-set buttocks only inches away from the seated man.

  “Bend over. Hands on knees.”

  Jessica widened her stance and bent down, obediently assuming the lewd pose thrusting her naked bottom back, practically into Logan’s astonished face. “ohhhmygod,” he breathed. Burns laughed, enjoying himself immensely.

  “Okay, that’s enough. Now straighten up, and turn around.” The trim nude turned like a mechanical doll atop a music box. There was a pause while Logan looked from the amazing girl to the astonished, still-grinning guy.

  “Well, Logan, do you think Jessica here can help you see things our way on those residuals?”

  ***

  The naked girl knelt at his feet, while Logan eased back into the deep cushions of the small couch. He looked down on her bowed head, the even strands of dark hair pulled back, stretched tautly and imprisoned between the jaws of a clamping barrette. His eyes caressed the huddled shoulders of the woman who knelt before him.

  Burns knew all about his negotiating partner. He made it a point to find out about his like sand dislikes and those little proclivities in which he liked to engage with the ladies. Connicker had been quite informative. Now he would us the knowledge.

  Jessica had been instructed to make their guest comfortable; to remove his shoes and socks, and that’s what she was now doing, as Logan said not a word, but only watched through half-lidded eyes, his body tingling with barely suppressed excitement, all the while sporting an enormous erection. Burns sat to one side, clearly enjoying the show, calmly giving his able assistant detailed instructions which were followed to the letter. Now Jessica sat back with her heels tucked under her bottom, and placed one of Logan’s bare feet in her lap.

  “Jessica is really very talented. And I know she’s so very grateful for your help with the ITTO deal. Go on, Jessie, use that lovely mouth of yours. Show our guest just how much we appreciate his help.”

  The kneeling woman cupped the heel of the foot she had cradled in her lap, raised it, and submissively lowered her head, bringing her lips down to the top of the foot, to plant a kiss there and then run her wet flattened tongue slowly up and down, licking her way to toes that curled with exquisite pleasure. The sprawled back man gave a strangled moan as he wiggled helplessly in his chair.

  He eased back and closed his eyes as he felt warm soft lips engulf his big toe, suck gently. And when he felt her wet tongue licking between his toes; he groaned in ecstasy, and twisted in his seat.

  After several excruciating seconds of this sweet torture, her lips abandon him. He opened his eyes to look down and find the blue-eyed girl looking up at him. She raised his bare foot and placed the sole flat against her lithe bosom. Logan smiled and began moving his foot in slow circles, playing with the girl’s floppy tits. She closed her eyes and groaned. He singled out her right breast, pressed into the pliant mound, wiggling his toes and delighting in the feel of the softly yielding tittie flesh. This caused her to press harder against him, to her arch back; her shoulders squirmed in sensual heat.

  Suddenly, she clutched the extended foot in both hands and leaned hard against him, mashing her soft smooth chest against the sole of his bare foot, and she gave out with a low, plaintive moan. Logan watched in wide-eyed surprise as the kneeling secretary began lightly jogging up and down, rubbing her pliant breasts all over the sole, making tiny whimpering noises. He looked to his host. The other guy had a wicked grin on his face; he gave his guest a conspiratorial wink.

  It was obvious to the men that the attractive brunette was really hot by now, was getting more aroused by the second, powerfully turned on by all this breast stimulation. Jessica had a dreamy expression on her flushed face. Her eyes were closed and she was panting through her opened mouth like a racehorse in the final heat. She threw back her head; clutched the foot to her chest. She jogged up and down; moving her rubbery tits all over the bottom of the guy’s foot.

  Her moans were coming from deep in her throat, the low passionate moans of woman in heat, sounds that electrified both men with the erotic realization that they were witnessing a healthy, beautiful girl being caught up in the grip of a powerful orgasm.

  Abruptly, the woman jacked up onto her knees, and still holding the man’s foot captive clutched in both hands, she quickly inserted it between her parted legs, and with a massive pelvic thrust rode up onto the stiffened toes. She gave out a single, tight-lipped grunt as she shoved the stiffening foot into her splayed crotch and then ground down on Logan Carlyle’s bare foot.

  Logan, wildly thrilled, jammed his toes into the sopping wet pussy and to his surprise his throbbing penis suddenly erupted, and he creamed his pants like some horny teenager who had lost all control at the first feminine touch of his hardened sex. The raging woman who furiously rode his bare foot, was not far behind. She threw back her head and came with a sharp yelp, grinding her crotch down with desperate, pounding urgency, humping his foot, as the onrushing climax racked her hunching body.

  Drained, Logan let his foot fall to the carpeted floor, and Jessica immediately squirmed up, to collapse over his legs, and lay there limp and depleted, with her head in his lap, nuzzling his flaccid cock. Logan let his hand rest lightly on her hair, feeling the warm and weight of her head through his pants as it rested only inches from where his still-twitching cock dribbled the last residue of his sperm into his sticky underwear.

  Logan’s fingers played idly in the fine silky hair, then they moved down to lightly caress Jessica on her naked shoulders, still warm and heaving in gentle undulations, while both of them gradually came back to earth. Weakened, satiated, and still breathing heavily, he drew a breath and turned to look at his host. The two men exchanged knowing glances. Burns nodded.

  “Well, Logan, do we have a deal?”

  4. The Kiss

  _______________________________________________________________________

  Deep in the belly, too, of every female is a desire, more ancient than the caves, to be forced to yield to the ruthless domination of a magnificent, uncompromising male, a master; deep within them they all wish to submit, vulnerably and completely, nude, to such a beast.

  -- John Norman, Marauders of Gor

  _____________________________________________________________________

  The Collector turned on a spirited little piece by Vivaldi, hummed along as he meandered around the darkened room, leisurely stripping to the waist. He took his time, his fingers working their way down the front of his shirt, deliberately opening each button, unbuttoning the cuffs, peeling the white shirt off his shoulders. Bare-chested, he turned on the overhead track lighting, and set about adjusting the twin lamps to flood the girl displayed before him. Then he picked up a tall wooden stool to move it into place directly in front of his pinioned captive. He poured himself a brandy and then climbed on his high perch, hooking his boot heels over a lower rung, to sit with folded knees elevated, facing the staked-out girl who, still unconscious, was slumped forward in her restraints, her head and shoulders sagging down. A shimmering cowl of soft brown hair fell forward to mostly hide her face. He took a sip from the brandy glass he held cradled in both hands, and glanced at his watch. The Collector was a patient man; he was prepared to wa
it. It wouldn’t be much longer till the chloroform began to wear off.

  He would use this interlude to leisurely enjoy the sight of the splendidly naked girl who was now completely in his hands; her young coltish body splayed open, pinned like a rare butterfly pinned against the tilted slab of smooth, vinyl-covered plywood in the pose he especially favored -- arms held up as if in surrender; legs spread open. He had tried out many such arrangements, but he judged this one as best: the girl’s hands, slim and delicate, raised up even with her face; wrists positioned on either side of the head, held in place there by leather straps affixed to the board. Similar straps secured her wide- spread ankles to the board, holding her in a widened stance that allowed easy access to her opened vagina.

  The pose made it clear to the captive just how helpless she was, how vulnerable and open to this man; her wide-spread legs invited his entry. From him there could be no secrets; all must be revealed. She was held to await his pleasure, totally exposed!

  Now the Collector saw his latest acquisition begin to stir, her lolling head rising up slowly, brown eyes fluttering open to find a half-naked man sitting there before her -- watching her with thoughtful gray eyes. At first it didn’t register. Her vision was still bleary from the lingering effects of the chloroformed rag he had pressed to her nose holding it there till she collapsed in his arms and he hauled her limp body into the van. The abduction had taken no more than half a minute, marked by a frantic, flailing struggle that crested in the final moment of panic. That moment had instantly yielded to the overcoming feeling of drowsiness that descended on her like a heavy blanket, obliterating her world as she fell into the abyss.

  Barbara remembered little of what had happened, just bits and pieces that came to her, disconnected. Still disoriented, she looked at the smooth-muscled physique of the seated man, her mind struggling to make sense of it all. He was alert, watching for what he saw now as those big brown eyes began to focus and the girl gained a dawning awareness of her situation: spread out, unable to move her arms and legs, and worse, when the full realization hit her like a ton of bricks -- she was stark naked! She let out a howling scream, but only a muted bray came out, and it was then that she realized she was not only tied up but she was also gagged! She was held totally helpless, a wildly scared animal driven by instinct. A wave of rising panic flooded over the captive; her eyes widened in alarm and she strained to free her arms, twisted in frenzied rage, yanked hard against her bonds, again and again! But the sturdy straps would not yield.

  The Collector watched her futile efforts with calm unwavering eyes; sat motionless while she brayed her protests in mounting urgency, all the while straining against the leather restraints, small fists working reflexively as she thrashed about in mounting panic. The seated man never moved, simply let her flail about thumping against the backboard, till the futility of her resistance began to sink in. It was hopeless. Tied as she was, there was nothing, absolutely nothing, she could do. In the end she could only give up, and with a final gurgled protest, she fell silent, hanging limply, breathing heavily, regarding the seated man with glaring eyes widened in fear from over the red rubber ball jammed between her gaping teeth.

  She was sweating lightly; her face sheened with perspiration. He could almost smell the girl’s fear. He said not a word, just looked deep into those frightened doe eyes…and gave her a smile.

  ***

  “So Amy, how’re we feeling?” His voice, when it finally came, was a soft purr; warm, low-pitched and gently solicitous.

  “Ummph!” was the best the poor girl could do by way of reply; a sound of desperation forced with terrible urgency around the hard rubber stopper that effectively plugged her opened mouth.

  “Now, now. It’s okay,” he quickly soothed. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. No one’s going to hurt you,” he muttered reassuringly.

  “How could anyone hurt such a pretty thing? So very pretty…,” he crooned in sincere admiration. His eyes caressed the girl’s splayed-out body: the slender coltish limbs, the slim chest with its small neat breasts, shaped like little champagne glasses with their up-tilted nipples, so perky and hopeful; the flat in-sloping belly with the slight hollow just before the rise of the soft mound of a lightly-furred vulva -- all held on open display before him.

  His silky words sent a shiver through her, and she watched with growing alarm as he quite deliberately set the brandy snifter down on a nearby table, shifted in his seat, and leaned in toward her. And when she saw him reaching for her, the girl’s head immediately snapped up and to the left. Whimpering in fear, she reared up on her toes, stretching back in an effort to retreat from the outstretched fingers.

  His touch was surprisingly gentle, no more than a brushing of two fingertips that made brief contact with the side of her face; just a touch on her soft cheek that trailed lightly down her chin and then withdrew.

  He pulled the stool closer, a few inches, closing the gap between them.

  Once again he reached out to her; she looked down, following his approaching hand which, this time, went to the top of her bare chest. She whimpered into her gag as he pressed two joined fingers there, lightly indenting the soft smooth skin. She stiffened at his touch then quivered as the pads of his fingertips lightly skated downward, curving around to follow the well-defined curve of her left breast. He sampled that tight little breast, lifting the taut jellied mound on his fingertips, using the pad of his extended thumb to lightly rub over the nascent nipple. Barbara cut off a tiny moan which escaped in spite of herself, as his thumb brushed back and forth over the rubbery tip.

  The Collector reflected that his newest captive had the sort of taut-skinned breasts that jutted out, unsupported, with both innocence and a certain audacity, like some lovely sculpted marble whose seductive contours irresistibly attracted the hand of a male admirer. His fingers nosed under the little mound and he cupped them loosely to balance the little tittie on the very tips, hefting it, as if weighing the floppy weight.

  “Look at me Amy,” he coaxed, while the thumb slowly kept up its incessant caress of her awakening nipple. In the only protest left to her, Barbara had kept her head defiantly turned, craning as hard as she could to one side.

  The man seemed to have infinite patience: just sitting there like some bare-chested Buddha, simply holding her left breast, while the pad of his thumb teased over the tip, again and again, coaxing her nipples into greater prominence, till they started to tingle. After a few minutes of this, Barbara slowly turned back to face her seated captor.

  “That’s better.” His hand fitted the sloping curve of her small breast, the emerging nipple resting in his curved palm of his hand, as he scanned her face, as if searching for something.

  She felt the warmth of his covering hand, but hardly noticed that her body was betraying her with the first signs of arousal. Struggling with her heightened emotions, she was too terrified to take notice of the sexual tingling. The sheer panic had receded, but Barbara’s heart was still pounding; her mind racing with a thousand questions: ‘Who was this guy? Where was she?!’ She looked around the room frantically -- a darkened basement room, with cement block walls and small high windows that had been boarded up. The wave of panic came over her again. She was sure this had all been some kind of mistake. It had to be! He kept calling her “Amy.” ‘He had the wrong person! Was he confused, or deranged; some kind of psychopath?’ A new shiver of fear shot through her, as the thought struck her. ‘He was going to rape her. Maybe even …kill her?!’

  She closed her eyes; took a deep breath through flaring nostrils, struggling to gain control of herself. From over her gag, Barbara stared at her captor with pleading desperation in her eyes. He returned her mute begging with a smile. The smile was kind, but the man’s eyes remained cold, detached, and strangely hypnotic. Her stared into her eyes as he lightly held her trembling breast. She couldn’t tear herself away from those terrible eyes that cut through her to lick her soul. She watched him slowly thoughtfully nod his head.
>
  “Poor Amy. I know it must be terribly uncomfortable for you, being tied up like this, with that nasty ol’ gag stuffed in your mouth.”

  His hand fondled lovingly her for a few seconds and then withdrew, leaving her breasts abandoned, the sensitive nipple stood out, semi-hard.

  “I know you want me to take the gag out, and I will. Very soon now. But first there’s a few things we got to get straight between us, and I can’t have you interrupting me, now can I? No. No. That wouldn’t do at all,’ he tsked, shaking his head.

  “You see, it’s important that I have your full attention. Do I have your full attention, Amy?”

  He waited.

  She nodded.

  He smiled. “Good girl.”

  Now while the splayed-out girl took in his words with eyes growing wide in disbelief over the distorting ball gag, the strange man quietly laid out his plans for her. She was in his house where she would remain… for some time (and the fateful words gave her a terrible sinking feeling) -- as his “guest.” And while she lived under his roof, she was to obey his rules, and do exactly as she was told. If she followed orders, no harm would come to her. She would learn to be a “good girl,” the perfect houseguest; to behave herself, and always be obedient and respectful. She would learn to speak only when spoken to, and she would always answer with a polite “Sir.”

  And if she were a good girl, he would remove the gag, and possibly even untie her. But if she was bad, she would find herself immediately backed up against the board, hands and feet tied down, the gag jammed in her mouth. And she would wait like that till he was ready to mete out her punishment, for bad girls must be punished. That was one of the house rules.

  He leaned closer bringing his face to just a few inches from hers, so that he was looking deep into her terrified eyes.