She raised her head. In his face she saw nothing but scorn and hatred. “I am on my knees, dear husband, waiting to...to... suck your penis.” She saw he was not satisfied. “I am an American woman, a wealthy, educated American woman. A short time ago I was happily married to a wonderful young American man. I enjoyed all the luxuries a woman might wish for. But I want to be here now, just as I am on my knees before you, my Master Abul, waiting ...to suck you to suck...your great dark...penis.”
“Prick!” he shouted. “Penis is for babies. It is a weak word for weak men. Say you wait on your knees to suck my prick, suck my hard prick. Tell me that your red lips are hot and wet. Tell me how much you want to suck it.”
“I...I...am on my knees before you, Master Abul, waiting to...to suck your prick. Please, Master, I’m begging you. I long to suck it. My lips are soft and warm. I’ve painted them bright red so that you can watch them slide over your great cock. My mouth is hot and wet for it. I want to feel your great hard prick fill my mouth. Please, let me prove how much I want to suck you.” Gently placing her hands on his bare feet and looking up at him she wet her lips and whispered again, “Look at my mouth, Master Abul. I want to...want to suck you...suck you.” She moved her hands along his legs to his inner thighs. Continuing to look up at him, she wet her lips again. “Please, give me permission to make love to your prick with my mouth...please allow me to suck you...please permit your woman...your...your loving and obedient wife to suck you.”
“I wonder, Mrs. Ryan, how much the concern for your sister-in-law and the fear of the riding crop governs what you have been saying?” She continued to look at him, but did not respond. “Your silence is answer enough,” he said. “But I find that hearing you address me as ‘dear husband’ is amusing and hearing you say those three words Americans think are so important also amuses me.” He leaned forward, glaring down at her. “But with more warmth, next time, Mrs. Ryan, with more warmth. Make me feel that you mean it or I’m going to stop threatening. I’m going to order Miko to take you down to the place where you were introduced to the dwarf’s whip.”
The thought of the whip sent a shudder through her. Reaching out to his hands that still held his cock, she placed hers over them. Lifting her eyes to his, while she lowered her head to his wrinkled foreskin, she formed an open circle with her lips and took the gray puckered skin that gathered at its tip into her mouth. She swirled her tongue around the bunched skin and gently nibbled and sucked at it. Releasing him from her mouth, she tilted her head to look into his angry eyes. “My husband,” she whispered.
“Go on,” he sneered.
She looked away, then forced the words out. “I...I...love you,” she said. She turned back and saw that he was waiting for her to repeat it. She was aware of his hatred, of his need to hurt her. She lifted his hand to her mouth and kissed it. She leaned into him softly kissing his stomach, then his chest. Looking up at him, she whispered again, “I love you...I love the way you possess me, my dear husband.”
“Do you love me enough to have my child?”
“I...I think you know, Master, that I am unable to have children.”
“But if you were able, would you have the child of Abul?”
“If I were capable of bearing children, yes...I...I...would be proud to have a child with you.” For the first time in her life she was happy that she couldn’t conceive. But her doctors had told her that a simple operation would solve the problem. She and Jeff had decided that when they were ready for children, she would have the procedure. She wondered if Satomi knew this. He probably did. She’d even entertained the idea of having a child with him. But, Abul? Unthinkable!
She imagined his seed combining with hers. She saw her belly swell with his child. She was sure it would be a boy. It would look like him. It would be taken from her and trained in Abul’s ways. The young child would be taught to destroy the weak... the vulnerable, taught to hate...to hate women...especially to hate American women...taught to hate its mother. She imagined, again, the seed of Abul deep inside her traveling into her womb, penetrating her egg to produce a life that would grow...a life that would unite her with Abul forever in the most profound way a woman and man can be united...their child, hers and Abul’s. A shudder shook her body and she felt faint.
He sneered at her. “Tell your husband what you want. Speak the words.”
Reminding herself that video cameras were recording the scene, she sank to her knees again and, looking up at him, she tried to get as much conviction into her expression and her voice as she could. “Please, my dearest husband, I kneel here before you to beg you to make me pregnant. I...I...want more than anything to have your baby. Please put your great manly cock into me. Please fuck me, my husband, fuck me hard and release your seeds inside me so that I can give you a son. So I can give you a handsome son who will be brave and strong like his father.”
“What would such a son think of his mother?”
“I...I...don’t...don’t.”
“He would despise her!” Abul shouted. “Tell me, what are you? Don’t tell me what you were, but what are you now.”
She didn’t know whether he wished her to continue in her role as his wife or if he wanted the truth of what she was. “I’m your woman. I belong to you,” she said.
“And what does that make you, Mrs. Ryan?”
She understood now what he wanted her to say. “It makes me your whore.”
“Yes, my whore. And what services have you performed as my whore?”
To think about what she had done was painful but to describe her behavior, to name her actions made her feel as if a cold hand were squeezing her heart. “I have kissed your feet. I have sucked your cock and the cocks of your friends and the dwarf. I have swallowed your cum and the cum of your friends. I have begged you and others to fuck my ass. I have also begged to be whipped. I have confessed that I’m glad that...that my husband died because his death has made it possible for me to give myself to you. It has made it possible for me to become Abul’s obedient whore.” She bowed her head.
“So,” Abul put a finger under her chin and tilted her head up, “We must conclude that an American slut like you, an American whore is not worthy to bear the child of Abul. Is that not correct, Mrs. Ryan?”
She realized suddenly that he was right. If she could have a baby, the child would soon hate its mother and for good reasons. “I see that, as in everything you say, you are correct, Master. It’s true. I am not worthy to be a mother to your children.”
“Tell me, describe for me exactly what you are now and what you think is the highest thing you might aspire to become.
“I have become, as you have said, your whore, your young American whore. My…my greatest aspiration is to be worthy of the title ‘Abul’s American Whore’. My only purpose is to serve you...to offer my body to you. It belongs to you. My body is yours to give to others if you wish.” He waited for her to continue. “I must confess, Master, that your wanting me to think of you as ‘husband’ and call you husband surprised me. I cannot imagine a greater honor than to be wed to Abul. However, I know that what we are doing here tonight is only an entertainment, and that I could never aspire to be your wife. I am…I am…grateful that you have taken me to be your woman...your American whore.” She reached out to gently touch his hand. He lifted it to her mouth and placed a long, dirty finger on her lower lip. She parted her lips. Slowly he pushed the finger between them. Looking into his mocking eyes, she sucked on it.
“It is an acceptable answer,” he said, withdrawing his finger, “Now, stroke my prick while I put other questions to you.” She reached between his legs and slowly began to masturbate him. “Do you remember the night when I first came into your life? Describe it.”
“You were driving the limousine that was sent to take me from my house to a restaurant in the city of Pittsburgh.”
“On that night, could you have imagined that one day soon you would be kneeling before me naked, and licking the filth between my toe
s, cleaning the filth from my fingers with your tongue?”
“No,” she said, “that would have been inconceivable.” It was impossible to imagine that she had submitted so completely to this ugly monster. The gritty taste of his finger was still in her mouth. She could not, even now, quite believe that she had touched her tongue to his disgusting toes.
“Yes, you arrogant bitch, inconceivable,” he said sarcastically. “It was also inconceivable that you would take great care in making yourself into a whore, into Abul’s personal whore: painting your lips for him, rubbing your body with oil and perfume, wearing provocative gowns, preparing your ass to receive the limousine driver’s prick. Isn’t that true?”
“It is true, Master. But on that night, I was ignorant. I had not learned. I did not realize.” She continued to stroke his cock, which had become harder and darker.
“That night I ordered you to show me your cunt. Did you obey?”
She knew that recalling these things would make him furious, but there was no way to avoid it. “No, Master. I refused.”
“Later, I gave you other orders which you also refused to carry out. Yes?”
“That’s correct. Please, Master, at the time I didn’t understand. How could I have known then, what I know now? But...but now I would gratefully do anything you demand...anything.”
“That’s the trouble with American women, especially rich American women. They think they must understand everything. For women there is nothing to understand. There is only obedience.”
“I know that now. I realized on the night you took me in my house, that you were my Master. Please believe me, Master. I now want to belong to you. I want to make myself beautiful for you. I know that my purpose is to serve you...to obey you in all things.”
“At the end of the night, you threatened to call the police if I didn’t leave your house.”
Now, she realized that she should have called them. She should have had this cruel bastard taken away in handcuffs, put in jail. She remembered thinking at the time what an obscene filthy pig he was. His dark, ugly features...the way he stared at her...the sour smell of him. His presence in her lovely home defiled it. She should have phoned the police. She glanced at him and saw that his anger was building. “I’m sorry. Truly, I’m sorry. I was spoiled and ignorant.”
The memory of that evening caused him to clench his fists. His face reddened. “You felt superior...you were giving Abul orders...making him seem weak and small. I will never forgive that. I will spend the rest of my life making you pay for it.” Suddenly he slapped her across the face with such force that she fell backward. He half rose out of his chair. Then, regaining his composure, sat down. She lay at his feet, the tears spilling from her eyes. “That’s what you need,” he growled. “We both know that’s what you need, don’t we, Mrs. Ryan?”
“Yes,” she managed to whisper, “that’s what I need. You have taught me to understand what I need.”
He nudged her breast with his bare foot. “Now, goddamn you, I want you to prove what you said about that foolish word ‘love’. I want you to say it. Say it many times and you better goddamn mean it! I want to see you demonstrate this love. Show me in ways you never showed your husband... Convince me, Mrs. Ryan, that this is not a game. Convince me that you mean it. Prove to me that your greatest aspiration is to be worthy of the title, ‘Abul’s American Whore’. If you fail, believe me, I will watch your tits whipped until they run with blood!” He half rose out of his chair. She thought he intended to drag her down to the punishment room.
She forced back a cry of despair. Her heart beat wildly in her chest. She emptied her mind of everything except the thought of survival. She stretched out on the floor and inched toward his feet. “I...I...love you,” she whimpered, “I...love you, love you, Abul, my husband.” He sat down. She continued, “Love you...love you...” She reached out and held his ankles. “Let me show you...please...please...” Like a hungry dog she began to lick his toes slavishly. She whimpered and moaned. She sucked his toes and licked between them, and then with the flat of her tongue, in a desperate frenzy, she licked the crusted bottoms of his calloused feet until they were soaked with her saliva, all the while continuing to whimper and moan. As she groveled at the feet of Abul, she felt a hollowness in her stomach and the downward rush of what seemed like liquid electricity. Her vagina, she knew, was oozing with her secretions.
The overwhelming intensity of this feeling confounded her. Her body’s response to the man who helped to murder Jeff was inconceivable, a betrayal of everything she knew and felt. She abhorred Abul with all of her intellect, her emotions, her spirit, but her body kept deceiving her. She felt her nipples stiffen and, as her tongue darted between his vile smelling toes, she began to grind her cunt against the rug, rotating her hips lasciviously, feeling an orgasm beginning to build.
Later, when she had time to think of this particular encounter, she would be deeply troubled. Abul was, unquestionably, an ignorant, filthy, sadistic monster. She had every reason to hate him and wish him dead. She did hate him and would, if it were possible, have killed him. And yet, when she touched her lips to his dirty toes or to his rancid cockhead, when she felt his fingers cruelly twist her swollen nipples, and when she heard herself call him ‘husband’, the lightning shocks that caused her center to tingle and burn filled her with a desire she had never before experienced. The truth that this perverse lust was not unwelcome terrified her.
“The words, you bitch, the words,” Abul hissed.
Prostrate before him, she covered his toes with quick wet kisses. Then, still tenderly holding his feet, she looked up. “I have learned to love you. I have learned to love what you are. Learned to love what you do and what you make me do.” She got to her knees and pulled her gown from her shoulders. She held her breasts out to him. “See, husband, how my nipples swell.” She reached down and, taking the hem of her gown, lifted it until her pussy was revealed. She thrust her pelvis up toward him and with both hands opened her vaginal lips. Her pink crevice ran freely with secretions. “See, my husband, how the hot juice flows from my...my cunt. My cunt is yours to...to fuck. My cunt is yours to give to anyone you wish...at any time and in any place that pleases you.” She turned away from him and bent over as she pulled her gown up to display her ass. “And this, too, belongs to you. My ass is yours to fuck whenever and as often as you wish. I will gladly take the...the pricks of your friends in my ass, if that will please you.” She turned to face him, and licked her lips. “My mouth, also is yours to use in any way you desire. I will suck...suck the pricks of your friends. I will make love to their pricks with my mouth. I belong to you. Your...your absolute power over me...your strength excites me more...more than any man ever could. I will refuse you nothing. Please, please, Master, take me...take me as your obedient American whore.” The words, growing out of her desperation, came in a rush.
She had spoken so rapidly, she hardly knew what she was saying. She felt herself on the edge of hysteria. Pausing for a moment to regain control, she turned back to kneel between his legs. She bowed her head. “I...I...have learned to love you.”
“What of your husband? What are your feelings now for him?”
She could tell his rage had not subsided nor had her fear. She would say and do whatever it took to keep from returning to the punishment room while he was like this. Placing her small hands on his thighs, she moved closer so that her breasts touched his cock. “I have forgotten my former husband. As you have said, his small white penis did not please me. He was weak. You have made me forget that life and him. Surely you must see now that it is you that it is Abul I need. It is you I respect and revere above all men.” She had tried her best to say what he wanted to hear and to speak as if she meant it. He’d looked at her intently. She suspected he could tell how much she hated him and how, in spite of her position, how superior she felt she was to him. She remembered something Stein once said to her, ‘Good breeding is almost impossible to hide, and you, Mrs. Ryan, ar
e an extraordinarily well bred woman.’
“That is better, but I’m unconvinced. Still not enough warmth, Mrs. Ryan.” Abruptly, he stood, almost knocking her over. He poured himself another drink and crossed the room to stretch out on his bed. She remained on her knees in front of the chair. Sipping his drink, he studied her. “Dress,” he ordered, “then come here and strip for me.” She rose and pulled her gown up. Unsteady in the heels, she went to him.
“It is obvious you have learned almost nothing since the day you arrived, Mrs. Ryan. You have not truly learned your place. You have not learned how to please me...not with your words...not with your body. What you have been doing here is a sham, an act because you fear the whip.” He glared at her. “Look at me, Mrs. Ryan.” She lifted her head. “You will learn, do you understand? You will learn! I’m tired of this ‘dear husband’ game.” He reached over to the table beside the bed and took something from it that appeared to be the tail of a pony. “Tell me, Mrs. Ryan, did you ever own a dog?”
“Yes,” she said, “when I was a little girl.”
“What was this animal’s name?”
She couldn’t imagine where his questions were leading. “It was a female. We called her Fluffy.”
“Since you did not play a convincing part as the loving wife, perhaps you will do better as a loving dog. What do you think, Mrs. Ryan?”
“I...I ...don’t know what you mean,” she said.
“I mean that unless you give a very good imitation of an obedient bitch dog, I’m going to have you sent to the punishment room right now. I’m out of patience with you. Instead of threatening, I’m going to have the dwarf mark your breasts with his riding crop. Is that clear enough?”
“Yes,” she nodded, “I understand. I’ll gladly do what you wish, but what...”
“Get down on your hands and knees.” She did as he ordered. “Now turn away from me and lift your dress. I want to see you shake your bare ass.” Slowly she pulled her gown up over the painful welts. She moved her ass from side to side. “Now, one of the first things dogs are trained to do is fetch. I’m going to throw this thing I have in my hand across the room. I want you to go after it on your hands and knees just like a dog. When you find it, pick it up with your teeth and bring it back and place it in my lap.” He tossed the ponytail into the far corner. She crawled to it and, lowering her head to pick it up, was startled to see that the tail was attached to a black anal plug. She hesitated, but remembering the searing pain of the whip, she took it between her teeth and crawled back to place it in his lap. “Good doggie,” he derided her. “But the doggie has no leash and is without a tail.” He clipped a sturdy chain to her collar. “Turn around doggie and lift your ass.”
The Facility Page 8
