President Slavegirl: Billionaire's Toy: Book Two of The Homouth Series

by Pat Powers

  Eileen nodded "no," the veil she now habitually wore fluttering in the air. She had been briefed on biotech by her staff as President, but only enough to know that the policy line was that biotech, because it had put an end to illnesses like cancer and AIDS, as well as extending people's lives and putting an end to many of the harmful effects of aging, was so beloved of the general population that criticism of it would have been political suicide. There were a few who were deeply suspicious of the technology, but in the face of its many benefits, they had no standing in the mainstream -- they were definitely on the far fringes of public opinion. Criticism of a particular application, like the homouth, was OK, though, and so that was the approach they took.

  But as for how it worked, that was a technical thing. She was a people person. It wasn't for her to bother with the details, her forte was understanding the way people felt about the big picture -- mostly people like her.

  "OK, well, let me explain it to you briefly so you'll know what the problem is," said Giuterrez. "At the cellular level, your body is a machine that builds proteins and so forth according to programming instructions coming from your nervous and endocrine systems. Nanotech involves injecting tiny machines into your body, either mechanical or biological in origin, and either supplementing or altering its activities. Some nanotech is mechanical, like the tiny robots we used to use to destroy cancer cells. Some are biological, like the artificial organism we now use to enter cancerous cells and change their programming so that they revert to normalcy.

  "The most sophisticated form of biotech, which is what has been used on you, consists of two parts: the tiny machines, organic or otherwise, that affects the body, and the nanotech that directs those machines, which we call a nanoset. The machines tend to be very simple things, it's the nanoset that we need to get to. Most nanosets are easy to locate and easy to deal with -- they're made that way intentionally, so that if anything goes wrong, treatment is easy. But there's a special kind of nanoset developed for military and covert applications that's designed to be hard to reach and hard to deal with, because they're used for purposes that are against the best interests of those who carry them.

  "That's the kind of nanoset you have, Eileen," said Giuterrez. "Apparently, some top-grade military or covert ops nanoprogrammers developed it. We have milsec programmers who have looked at this, and they say that they would have to work for months to figure out a way to deal with your nanoset, and that it would probably take even longer, perhaps a couple of years, to figure out a way to alter it without doing you great harm. Because that's the problem with dealing with nanosets -- the code is carried by vulnerable human beings, not computers that can be re-booted at will.

  "We're going to work on your nanoset, because it's important to us that you be spared this indignity," said Giuterrez. "And it may be that we can solve your problem in much less time than we say, if we get lucky and make some kind of breakthrough. But I don't really think you should count on that, Eileen. I think the thing you have to do now is figure out how to get on with your life and find some way to live with what's been done to you, at least until we can come up with a solution for you."

  Eileen nodded. Somehow, she had expected as much. There was to be no easy way out, as her captors had intended.

  Naomi spoke.

  "Eileen, we need to get you out of here," Naomi said. "Your enemies are working hard to find you, and staying in one place just makes things easier for them. It's a lot harder to hit a moving target."

  Eileen nodded. Then she picked up her notepad. "I want to be alone with Dr. Giuterrez for a short while," she wrote. "I may not be able to leave immediately."

  Naomi protested, but Eileen just shook her head and pointed to Dr. Giuterrez. There was no arguing with her in large part because she couldn't argue back.

  "You can't get rid of the homouth with nanotech, right?" Eileen wrote.

  Dr. Giuterrez nodded "Yes."

  "Then you have to help me get my mouth back the other way, the way the people who put it on me intended," wrote Eileen.

  Giuterrez looked dubious. "I'm sorry, I don't think I can help you there," he said.

  "YES YOU CAN!!!" Ellen scrawled, a silent shout on paper. "You are a doctor. You are supposed to help patients in need. I need to have my mouth back. We both know what that means."

  "I am a doctor," said Giuterrez, "but one of the reasons I am helping you is that I believe in the values of your movement. What you are asking me to do is morally wrong, by my standards and yours."

  "It's NOT a moral thing," wrote Eileen. "It's a physical thing. I have this physical deformity, through no fault of my own, and I need to get rid of it. I hoped you could help me with nanotech, but you can't. So you must help me in the other way. Not personally, I don't mean that. But surely you know someone, or know someone who knows someone, who'll help me."

  Giuterrez looked troubled, but said, "Don't YOU know someone who can help you?" he asked.

  "Other than you, no," Ellen scrawled. "The people I know well enough couldn't help me. I wouldn't help me, if I had any choice in the matter. But ... you know what those people did to me when they kidnapped me? Other than the homouth, that is. I don't have anything like honor to defend any more, not after what they put me through. And after what I've been through, what I need to do to get this homouth off me is so ... minor. It's just a procedure. A procedure I need to have done. And you must help me with that. Please. Please."

  Giuterrez sighed. He was a moral to the point of being prudish man, the sort of man who was fully identified with Eileen's ideals as President. He had spent enough time working with pregnant teens, women abused by their boyfriends, and other unfortunates to have formed the opinion that morality was an important thing from a strictly practical point of view. It prevented a lot of human suffering.

  But he also saw Eileen's point. Practically, speaking, there was only one way to get that homouth off her. He could not condemn her desire to have her normal mouth back. And her written account made it very clear that what she'd gone through at the hands of her captors was indeed far worse than any sex acts, even those involving bondage. Still, he felt vaguely disappointed that Eileen, of all people, had given in to the exigencies of her situation so easily, so much like all the young whores and tramps he had treated in his time – they all had their excuses. He had hoped that she would somehow find a way to rise above it.

  But how could you rise above having an extra set of genitals grafted onto your face and having your libido pumped up by orders of magnitude? Especially since, after what she had been through at the hands of her enemies, this PROCEDURE Eileen spoke of was in fact a minor thing.

  "All right," said Giuterrez. "I know some people I can ask. I can't guarantee anything."

  Eileen smiled with her eyes, tears gleaming at their corners. "THANK YOU," she wrote. "I appreciate that it won't be easy for you."

  Giuterrez left the room thinking ruefully that if someone had told him several weeks ago that he would soon be pimping for Eileen MacCammon, he would have laughed in their faces.

  An hour or so later, two burly orderlies wheeled a gurney into Eileen's room, followed by Naomi. It was time to go.

  * * * *

  The new safe house was very nice, a seaside resort villa owned by a supporter of hers that was rented out to inland folk most of the year. All the rooms were painted in bright but somehow soft pastels of blue, red, pink and green. It was a cheery yet relaxing color scheme that combined with the sea-themed objets d'art scattered about to give the place a cheerful, vacation feeling.

  On the second day of her confinement in the villa, Eileen was sitting in her room with Naomi and a few others and watching the news, idly discussing legal strategies that were being made to restore Eileen's rights so that she would not be so terribly, terribly vulnerable to her enemies. So far none had worked.

  Judy came into the room.

  "A young man is here to see you, Eileen," she said. "Dr. Giuterrez sent him here. Something about
a procedure?"

  "Send him in,” Eileen signalled. She also made motions indicating all the others had to go.

  Naomi, Judy and Sharon, who had been conferring with Eileen, left the room. After the door was shut, Judy said, "Did you see that guy? What a hunk!"

  "I wonder what sort of procedure he could possibly be involved in?" asked Sharon.

  "Well, I've got fifty bucks that say when Eileen comes out of there, she won't have a homouth any more," said Naomi. "Any takers?"

  "Naomi!" Judy cried, scandalized.

  "I don't blame her," said Naomi. "After what she's been through, she's got every reason to hate having that thing on her face, and what she's doing in there is NOTHING compared with what was done to her by those sluts."

  * * *

  Eileen's heart hammered as she looked at her visitor. She had been fantasizing about this moment for the last several days, almost constantly. And with a hideous, obscene eagerness and urgency. It was very clear that her new and improved libido was fully functioning. She had awakened in the morning both sticky and sweaty, and it wasn't the seaside air that made it so. She had to take a long shower to get the funk off, but it did relatively little good, because the glimpses she got of her own naked flesh, and more importantly, the feel of it as she washed it, turned her on tremendously.

  Eileen could hardly stand her own eagerness as Giuterrez's procedure-doer strode into the room. He was a handsome young man in his 20s, of average height but with a really nice build and a pleasant, casual demeanor. Dark brown hair, strong jaw, sparkling blue eyes, a sensuous mouth that also tended to smile. He made a really great first impression.

  "Hi, I'm Paul Atreides," he said, offering his hands for a shake. "Dr. Giuterrez sent me."

  Eileen extended her hand to shake Atreides'. Firm grip, manicured nails. She had been half fearing some grubby lout would show.

  "I hope you will accept this token of my respect," said Atreides, extending his hand. In it rested a tiny jeweled watch on a chain. It was not an expensive piece, but it was good looking. It was the sort of thing you could wear casually almost anywhere, though it was too inexpensive for any kind of formal occasion.

  Not that this was a formal occasion. Eileen was uncomfortably aware that she had an almost irresistible urge to reach out and stroke Atreides. He was so attractive, so male, and she was so, so, needy.

  Eileen smiled with her eyes and accepted the gift. She gestured to Atreides to follow her and went to the writing table that sat against the window.

  "Thank you for the gift," she wrote. "It is lovely, and I appreciate the spirit that led you to give it to me. But I hope you will not think me forward -- did Dr. Giuterrez tell you exactly what my problem is?"

  "He said that bad people put a homouth on you," said Atreides, "one that you could only get rid of by performing acts of sexual bondage with a man. Is that true?"

  Eileen nodded, blushing slightly.

  "Then you have my sympathy," said Atreides. "I will be very happy to help you in any way I can. And I believe I can help you. I am quite experienced at sexual bondage. I have brought many women great pleasure while in bondage. Of course, this has always been with women who were engaging in bondage because they wished to explore it for their pleasure. I understand that is not the case with you. So you may not have such pleasure as others might -- but I think I can make this as painless as possible, under the circumstances."

  Eileen nodded thankfully. It was what she had hoped for, really. There was no prospect of anything really good coming from this union of their bodies. The best she could hope for was a quick end to the business with her mouth restored to her face.

  (Why, then, was she trembling so? Why did her heart beat so hard? Why was she almost unable to look Atreides in the eye? What was she so afraid of what he might see in her eyes?)

  "Before we begin, are there any other rules I must know of?" Atreides asked.

  "Yes," Eileen nodded. She had thought about this and had prepared. She handed a note to Atreides. The note said:

  “I must be bound. They definitely said my hands must be bound behind my back or to some object that rendered them useless, and me helpless. Ties they suggested were hands behind back, wrists to ankles, wrists to thighs with ankles bound apart or together, hogtie, spreadeagle, half spreadeagle and probably a few others I missed.

  I must be penetrated by a man's cock, orally, anally or vaginally while bound. I think it would be a good idea if I were to have an orgasm, but I'm not sure that it's necessary.

  If I am not being penetrated orally, I must be gagged while being penetrated elsewhere. The gag must be a penetrative sort of gag -- a ball gag, or a dildo or vibrator held in place with a rope or straps. They were very firm on that point. The thing that gags me must be secured in place, you just can't stuff something in my mouth.

  That's all there is to it. My only request is that you not hurt me as you do it. There are many yards of half inch cotton twine and some suitable gagging materials in the upper left hand bureau drawers at the foot of the bed. Please, take me and do as you will, it is so much easier for me if I don't have to ask.”

  "I understand," said Atreides as he finished reading the note. Eileen, with her politician's well-developed sense of people's real feelings, knew he was lying. He probably thought all of this was an elaborate charade devised for the sake of her fantasies.

  This was exactly what Atreides thought. A rich woman, unable to take responsibility for her own sexual urges. She had even talked Giuterrez into believing it. Oh, well, it did not matter. Atreides could take care of her needs. He could go along with it, he had gone along with much wilder fantasies.

  "With your homouth, we'll need a safe-signal," said Atreides.

  Eileen looked at Atreides inquiringly.

  "Yes, if anything that is going on disturbs you or hurts you in any way, you need a signal to let me know about it so we can stop," said Atreides. "If you could speak, we'd have a safeword, but many women who enjoy bondage fantasies like to be gagged as well, and some have homouths, so safe signs are not at all rare. Perhaps you should flip me a bird if you have a problem. Or make three high-pitched squeals, very fast, in a row. You do not make such sounds while in the throes of passion, do you?"

  Eileen blushed and shook her head "No," vaguely offended that she had even been asked the question. She did not have throes of passion.

  What made it even worse, somehow, were the intense sexual feelings that now filled her, feelings she did not want to acknowledge. She did not know what her voice would have sounded like if she had a mouth. She found it a comfort, in a way, that all she had to do was look at Atreides and do as he said.

  "OK, just to make sure we are clear on this, I want you to give the signals," said Atreides. "Flip the bird at me and squeal three times, very high pitches, very fast."

  Eileen flipped Atreides the bird and let forth with three very fast, very high pitched squeals that mostly came through her nose.

  "OK, if at any time you feel a need to stop the proceedings, you flip me the bird and squeal that squeal, and we'll stop whatever we're doing and take care of whatever the problem is. Understand?"

  Eileen nodded her understanding. She knew she would not give the signals. After what she'd been through at the hands of the Sisters of Mercy, there was nothing this nice young man could do to make her uncomfortable enough to give the sign, when getting her mouth back was involved.

  "Now, take off all your clothes," Atreides ordered.

  It was as simple as that, Eileen realized. The order. She had to do it. And she really, really wanted to do it.

  She began unbuttoning her blouse.

  "Slowly, erotically," Atreides ordered. He was slowly, carefully, establishing a dominant tone with her. He knew just how to slide into her fantasies.

  Eileen did not quite know how to undress erotically, since she had never done it in her life. In fact, had never tried to do anything erotically in her life. Even from childhood, she had been very proper
, experiencing puberty only as a series of embarrassing assaults upon her sense of propriety. Raised by pious parents and strongly influenced by fourth wave feminists who had incorporated religion into their feminism, she had experienced puberty not as growth but as an invasion of her selfhood by an alien sexuality. In a sense, the things that her enemies had done to her with the homouth had been just an extension of puberty.

  Now she was ordered to behave erotically by a man who could restore her mouth to her face, and so she tried. She undressed slowly. She made subtle lifting movements with her hands as she removed garments. She wiggled her hips a little. But the underlying sense of desire that filled her did not inform her movements in any way, and so her movements were stiff, unnatural, and not at all erotic. A lifetime of repressing erotic feelings did not vanish just because she wore a homouth on her face and had enough sex hormones circulating in her body to turn Rhode Island into the sexual equivalent of a smoking crater.

  What the hormones did was crank up the intensity of her emotions. She could not believe how fiercely she desired to be taken. She would have cried, fallen on the bed sobbing, if Atreides had declared himself unable to go through with it and left the room, and not just because it would have meant not getting rid of the homouth. Her sobs would have been sheer disappointment at not having sex.

  Over the last couple of days, she had spent a lot of time in a sexual haze, daydreaming about what would happen when Giuterrez's man arrived. Because she had always known he would come -- Dr. Giuterrez was a man of honor, that part of his personality was so obvious. If he said he would do it, he would do it, if he possibly could do it. That is why she had chosen him to pressure ... her political experience in manipulating people remained useful, even now.