The Taking of Cheryl, Book One: Cheryl Captured

by Paul Blades

  Cheryl had stood stock still on entering the room.

  Jeremiah resolved her confusion by standing her about five feet from the end of the table opposite Stoner. He would have a clear view of her naked body and its charms throughout the meal. Jeremiah had one more surprise for her. From deep in his pocket, he produced the ruby colored earrings that the Turk had adorned her with on the night she had been kidnapped. Cheryl was taken aback by the presence of the earrings both because they reminded her of the Turk, but also because they represented property that had once been hers. They were a connection to her former life. And now she had been reduced to owned property herself, no more than a living, breathing, fucking, bauble.

  Jeremiah affixed the earrings to Cheryl’s nipples and the lips of her bare cunt. The clasps produced sharp jabs of pain and then a lingering burning sensation. Cheryl felt the tears well up inside her again, but determined that she would not cry. Not for this bastard, if she could help it.

  Cheryl watched from afar as the trio consumed their evening meal. Justine and Mary ate sullenly, in small bites, nervous at their proximity to their cruel master. Stoner ate mechanically, barely tasting the marbled, grain fed beef, the delectable produce of his own gardens, the delicate flavor of the expensive Bordeaux. He stared continuously at his property, surveying what he owned. Cheryl stood as still as the buzzing in her cunt permitted. It was holding her just on the edge of passion and she had to fight off the urge to cross her legs to press it tighter and deeper inside her. She too was hungry and the fact that she was not permitted to sup with her sister slaves was disconcerting.

  When Stoner finished, everyone was finished. The bulky man sat back in his chair, sated. He produced a long, fat cigar and lighted it, blowing dense smoke across the table. A servant brought him a snifter of what Cheryl assumed to be brandy. He downed it in one gulp.

  Justine and Mary sat still. Their exposed breasts rose and fell with their breaths, shuddering slightly. Their eyes were downcast as they awaited whatever whim struck Stoner’s fancy.

  Tonight, Stoner only had eyes for his new acquisition. He had trouble remembering her name, calling her in his thoughts, alternatively Cherry and Charlene. It didn’t really matter what her name was. He could call her ‘fuck all’ if he wanted to. But he did like to get it right.

  Stoner rose from his chair and approached Cheryl. She cringed as he drew near to her. She fought off the urge to flee, as she knew it would be useless. Mesmerized, she stared into Stoner’s face, wondering what kind of man he was, what he would do to her.

  The coarse man grabbed the nipple of Cheryl’s right breast and squeezed it hard. Cheryl squirmed as she tried to fight off the pain. Taking the cigar from his mouth, Cheryl’s owner addressed her.

  “Hungry, cunt?” he said. “No doubt you are. But I have something special planned for tonight. I’m going to stick my cock down your throat and you’re going to learn to take it. I don’t want you puking all over my sheets.” The man released Cheryl’s breast. “Jeremiah will get you settled in my bedroom. I’ll be along in a little while.”

  Stoner left the room without further ado. Servants poured in to remove the leavings from the dinner. Cheryl watched wistfully as the leftover food was taken from the room. She jumped when Jeremiah grabbed her arm.

  Jeremiah led Cheryl along a long hallway and through a set of heavy wooden doors. As she passed through the threshold, Cheryl took in the massive, heavy appointments of what she assumed to be Stoner’s bedroom. The bed was huge, able to accommodate a family of five. It had tall, thick, ebony posts on all corners, all adorned with rings and chains. The furniture was large and heavy with a massive dark brown dresser and a tall, wide wardrobe. In the corner of the room was a tall post with chains attached. Doubtless this was designed for the whipping of recalcitrant wives. Or just for fun.

  Pulling her into the room, Jeremiah delivered Cheryl to the proximity of the bed. It was covered with dark green satin sheets with large overstuffed pillows across the head. It was as long as it was wide and Cheryl chided herself for wondering whether the sheets had to be custom made.

  She had little time to ponder the accoutrements of the room as Jeremiah dragged her directly to the bathroom. It was a huge room with high ceilings, large tan tiles and a brown rug. The faucets and handles were golden-hued. Jeremiah took Cheryl to the toilet where, after removing the still whirring dildo from her pussy, he ordered her to sit down and pee. She obeyed and, as the tinkle of water sounded below her, she despaired at how low she had come. Her most private and basic functions were now subject to the whims and caprices of her owner and his jailer. Since her hands were tied behind her back, Jeremiah did Cheryl the favor of wiping her vagina free of the remnants of her discharge. He then pulled her to her feet and led her back into the bedroom.

  Cheryl hands were untied and a wide belt was wrapped around her waist. It was made from a tightly woven cloth and was firm, yet smooth against Cheryl’s skin. The belt buckled in the back. Woven into the belt at a place corresponding to each hip was a set of two thick strands of fabric. Jeremiah took Cheryl’s right wrist and tied it between the strands at her right hip and did the same for the left. Her hands were now effectively fastened at her hips. The knots were tight and the strands of cloth strong. Cheryl could not release them. She looked up at the intent black servant. The import was clear. She would have no way to defend herself or to frustrate Stoner’s use or abuse of her.

  Jeremiah then jammed a wide, leather ring gag into Cheryl’s mouth. Her knees trembled as she remembered Stoner’s remarks about a throat fucking tonight. Now she could neither defend herself with her hands nor close her mouth.

  Pushing the frightened woman down on the bed, Jeremiah jimmied her into the proper position. Standing on the bed, on which Cheryl now lay crosswise with her head hanging over the side of the bed, the factotum released two long leather straps from the bed’s canopy. Each one was narrowed at the end so that it could be tied around a limb, in this case, Cheryl’s ankle. Adjusting the straps, Jeremiah fastened the girl’s legs wide apart, exposing her hairless sex. Cheryl strained to see what the man was doing, lifting her head up, not without some strain. Jeremiah wordlessly came around the bed and wound a cloth belt around Cheryl’s neck and tied its ends to a rail that ran along the underside of the bed. Her head leaned over the edge of the bed, her neck against the mattress. She was now fixed in position for the enjoyment of her master and soon to be husband.

  Jeremiah took in the wonderful display of Cheryl’s charms. He ran his large, soft hands over Cheryl’s limpid breasts that now lay flat against her chest. He teased and squeezed the nipples causing them to harden. It did not take long for Cheryl’s breath to begin to quicken as she felt the inevitable rise of lust that followed any purposeful manipulation of her teats. Jeremiah stood over the prone girl, placing her neck between his knees. He leaned over and took the nub of Cheryl’s pleasure in his mouth. As he engulfed it with his lips, Cheryl released a loud moan. The black man placed his bright pink tongue into the crevasse between the lips of Cheryl’s sex and explored the now wet interior.

  Cheryl’s moans became little cries as she was being led to the brink of orgasm. But Jeremiah knew his business. He sensed when Cheryl’s moment of point of release was near and withdrew his tongue. Standing upright he smiled as he observed the twitching of Cheryl’s thighs, frustrated by the absence of release.

  Stepping away from the bed, Jeremiah took a last look at Cheryl before exiting the room. Yes, these white bitches were a pleasure to torment, he thought. Before leaving, Jeremiah leaned over to Cheryl and spoke to her softly.

  “White slut, you cannot prevent the Master’s cock from entering your throat. Do not try. When he pushes his manhood in, you must swallow, like you were consuming it. Tomorrow, after the Master goes to the fields, you can show me what you have learned tonight.”

  Cheryl lay quietly on the bed as Jeremiah left the room. The bedroom doors slammed shut with a loud “boom”. The room became absolutely still so that the only noise w
as the muted sound of Cheryl’s breathing. At first, Cheryl struggled to free her hands. But then she realized that if she managed to get free she would probably be beaten and the wrists reaffixed. With tears in her eyes, she abandoned herself to her fate.

  Time passed slowly as Cheryl awaited her Master. Finally, she heard the twisting of the doorknobs and the heavy sound of the doors being swung on their hinges. She turned her head to the left and saw Stoner enter the room and then shut the doors. He was holding a large tumbler in one hand, filled half way with a dark amber liquid. Before proceeding into the room, he took a long pull at his drink and sighed as the liquid coursed down his throat.

  Looking over, he took notice of his prisoner. “Good evening, slut,” he said with a facetious graciousness in his voice. “Have you been lonely? How rude of me to keep such a delectable cunt and mouth waiting.”

  Stoner laughed to himself as he walked unsteadily over to a wide, low dressing table located along the wall on the right side of the room. It had a large mirror running down its length and Cheryl had been able to see the reflection of her splayed legs and feet in it as she had awaited Stoner’s pleasure. Stoner looked up as he placed his glass clumsily on the dressing table’s surface and saw Cheryl staring at his reflection.

  “What are you looking at, bitch?” he demanded in a now harsh, slurred tone. “You didn’t think I forgot you, did you? One thing you can count on, cunt, when I make a promise to throat fuck a whore like you, I keep it.” He laughed at his joke.

  Cheryl didn’t think it funny at all. She closed her eyes and turned her head away from the mirror. The unreality of her position struck her. Her body had now become a prison that held her subject to the torments that these cruel men cared to visit upon her. Was her only escape death?

  Stoner leered at the prostrate woman on his bed. Her long brown hair fell below her head, sweeping the floor as she turned away from him. “She was worth every penny,” Stoner thought to himself. “I’m going to enjoy this one.”

  The paunchy but muscular man had just finished off, as was his nightly want, the better half of a fifth of scotch. His head was a little woozy, but he was still sober enough to do what he had been planning for all day. He loved breaking in these bitches. He enjoyed their struggles and pleas for mercy. After a few months, they started to get used to the whip and the cane and it took greater and greater extremes to drive them to desperation. But that was okay too. Seeing how much a slut could take before she was truly broken in spirit, maybe even driven out of her mind, was fun. There had been that Belgian last year. When he was finished with her, there was not much mind left. She was too useless to even send down to the brothel in the capital. Stoner had given her away to a local tribal chief. For all he knew, they had cooked and eaten her since she was nowhere to be seen the next time he came around.

  But Stoner didn’t like to waste an investment like that. And he thrived on control. He liked to push the women he bought just to the edge of collapse and no further. Give them a look over the precipice, as it were. Tonight he was going to see how much abuse this new girl could take.

  Stripping himself, Stoner took a heavy pull on his scotch and set his glass down. He might as well get right down to business. His cock was flaccid and so he needed a little warming up before he could have his fun. He grabbed a thin cane off of the wall and stepped over to the waiting woman.

  Kneeling down, Stoner took Cheryl by the hair and turned her face to his. “Nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, cunt,” he taunted her. “You see this little cane here? I’m going to whip your slit with it. I want to hear you howl before I stick my cock down your throat.”

  Cheryl’s heart was frozen with fear. Another whipping! And on her sex! She knew not to beg for mercy even if she could, since there would be none. But she could not prevent a whimper of fear to escape her distended mouth. As Stoner rose to his feet, her whole body began to shake and tremble in anticipation of the torment to come. Stoner leaned back and delivered a strong blow with the cane directly on the center of Cheryl’s wide open pussy. “CRACK!” The sound of the cane’s contact with Cheryl’s flesh echoed throughout the room. Her body convulsed. A loud wailing moan escaped her lips. Another blow followed. “CRACK!” This time it landed to the right of the slit between Cheryl’s thighs, across the labial lip. “CRACK!” Stoner directed the cane to the left of Cheryl’s cunt. “CRACK!” Once more, the center of Cheryl’s thighs was struck. This time however, the tip of the cane landed precisely on the apex of Cheryl’s furrow, striking her clit an excruciating blow.

  Cheryl was delirious with pain. She had thought that her torment the night before was the most she could ever stand, but here was a whole new level. Terror drove all rational thought from her mind. Her throat burned from her hoarse bellows of pain. As she twisted and turned her head, the cloth that was wound around her neck drew tighter, threatening to cut off all of her air.

  Stoner’s cock was rampant now. It only took a few blows with a whip on a defenseless female to get him into heat. He tossed the cane aside and got down to the business at hand.

  Cheryl was still moaning from the pain in her lacerated loins. She felt her head pushed down and sensed Stoner moving close to her. His hands were on the sides of her face, steadying her. Without warning, he shoved his hard, hot meat into Cheryl’s mouth.

  The ring gag held her mouth open wide and there was no obstruction to Stoner’s passage from Cheryl’s lips to her throat. Cheryl had been caught in mid moan when the hardened flesh pressed against her tongue, forcing it down. She felt the cock pushing at the back of her mouth. Suddenly, it was past her throat’s entrance and into her esophagus.

  Immediately, Cheryl’s body fought to expel the invader. Her legs jerked back and forth, her hands struggled fiercely at her bindings. She had not had the chance to take a deep breath, and the need for oxygen arose immediately. As the cock pressed further in, Cheryl began to gag, her chest and stomach heaving.

  Stoner was in heaven. As he reveled in Cheryl’s throat with his cock, he took in her mighty and futile struggle. The angle of the girl’s head gave Stoner a direct path to her throat. Her head was between his knees and he could feel the fruitless efforts Cheryl was making to expel him. When he sensed that Cheryl was about to faint, he pulled his cock out of her mouth.

  Desperately, Cheryl gasped for air. Her lungs heaved, pressing her breasts upwards, much to Stoner’s delight. He gave her two deep breaths and then pushed himself home again. Cheryl stiffened when the cock pressed back into her throat. She had forgotten Jeremiah’s advice and she gagged and choked on the piercing flesh. Her legs pushed and pumped in frustration. Stoner admired the taut muscles of her twitching thighs. His eyes rolled back as he felt the tight constriction of the narrow passage on his cock. He rocked himself back and forth gently, waves of pleasure flowing over him. He almost forgot himself as Cheryl’s struggles became weaker. He pulled out again to allow the poor woman to gain her breath. He waited this time until she had achieved a level of relative calm.

  “Here comes that bad boy again, slut,” he instructed his wheezing victim. “And this time, I’m staying in until I come, so you better take a deep breath.”

  Cheryl had now had time to regain some of her composure. Jeremiah’s advice came back to her. As she felt the ruthless thrust of Stoner’s member back into her mouth, she manipulated the muscles of her throat, as if to swallow. Low and behold, the cock slid right in!

  Closing her eyes and concentrating on keeping her throat muscles loose, Cheryl permitted the hot, bulging sword of flesh to do its work. Stoner was thrusting hard now, his passion rising to a crescendo. Suddenly, his climax was upon him and he jerked and moaned as his cock jetted streams of cum down Cheryl’s throat. Cheryl was holding her own, but knew that she could not hold her breath much longer. She prayed that he would finish and withdraw. She could actually feel the pulsing of the cock in her throat as he came, a strange sensation.

  Finally, Stoner had spewed his load and withdrew. Cheryl gasped for breath, thankful that her ordeal was over. Or at l
east that this one was. And the next time, she would be ready. She had done it, overcome her body’s natural revulsion, and served as a docile receptacle for Stoner’s spunk.

  Stoner was temporarily sated. He stumbled over to the dressing table and recovered his glass of scotch. He poured its cold, and now watery, contents down his throat. “She gets the cum and I get the scotch,” he thought to himself. He laughed and turned to take in the visage of the object of his cruel lust. She was panting visibly, tears flowing down her head and into her hair. There were two angry red stripes along sides of her cunt, evidence of his savage blows. Stoner opened a cabinet under the dressing table and pulled out a bottle of 24 year old scotch, single malt. He poured three fingers into his glass and then got some ice from the dispenser on the built in mini-cooler. Scotsmen all over the world trembled at this abuse of a fine liquor. But Stoner was not refined, he only liked expensive things, and this was among the most expensive scotch he could buy.

  Stoner played with his cock as he held his glass to his lips. He wanted another round with this broad. He would fuck her this time, just as she was. His tumescent tool began to harden at the thought.

  Stoner’s abuse of his body was counterbalanced by his consumption of every conceivable drug and vitamin designed to enhance his sexual performance. He had taken a Viagra about an hour ago, and he knew he was good for another go.

  Creeping around the bed, he began to pull at his flesh to encourage its hardness. He downed the rest of the scotch at one swallow and placed the glass down. He knelt on the bed, crawling forwards until his head was between Cheryl’s thighs.

  Cheryl could sense his presence, but not see him, since her head was still below the level of the mattress. She felt his hot breath between her thighs. A stab of pain shot into her as Stoner’s tongue pressed down on her wounded clitoris. Stoner, mistaking her gasp for one of pleasure, laughed to himself. He congratulated himself on knowing how to get a woman hot.