The Facility

by Charles Arnold

  About fifteen feet in front of the semi-circle of men, Miko and Mi Jong stopped. Kathy moved forward a few steps and was preparing to get down on her knees when Abul raised his hand, “Not just yet, “ he said. Kathy stood before them, her head lowered, her bound breasts jutting forward, the pale skin of her belly and legs gleaming under the harsh light.

  “I must say,” Abul went on, “you look different tonight, Mrs. Ryan. The last time you came before us you dressed like the rich American debutante you once were. Now, you come to this gathering of important men almost naked. Nothing but thin straps binding your bare tits. Are you trying to seduce us, Mrs. Ryan?” Narimov and the older man next to him chuckled. The young man, his face impassive, continued to lean forward staring at Kathy.

  “Seduce?” Kathy began. “No...no...I was told to...I mean we thought to please you.”

  “Ah, yes, you thought to please us. Come here so we can see you better. Our new young friend seems somewhat stricken.” He poked Narimov. The young man quickly sat back in his chair, blushing. Kathy moved toward them and was about to get on her knees again when Abul stopped her a second time. “No, stand there.” He glared at her, his bulging eyes bright and cruel. “I seem to recall your nipples being a different color, Mrs. Ryan?”

  “Yes,” she looked down not knowing which was worse, the fear or the shame.

  “What color were they the last time you presented yourself to us?”

  “The color?”

  “Are you deaf or just stupid? The color!” his voice rose.

  She looked away, twisting her hands nervously. “Red…no…no pink. The color was pink.”

  “That’s what I remember. Long, smooth pink nipples.” He paused, smirking. “Now, perhaps, since you are a woman and also a graduate of a big American university, maybe you will explain to us the reason God, in his wisdom, blessed women with breasts and nipples?”

  The question surprised her. She couldn’t imagine what he wanted her to say. “For babies,” she said uncertainly. “To nurture them. A baby feeds from its mother’s breasts.”

  Abul looked around at his companions, “You see, gentlemen, she’s not so stupid after all. She knows what her tits are for.” He turned back to Kathy, “A pretty image, Mrs. Ryan...rich American babies sucking on their rich American mothers’ pink nipples.” He leaned toward her. “But no babies are going to feed from yours, are they, Mrs. Ryan?”

  Kathy looked at the floor, the tears welling up in her eyes, “No,” she whispered.

  “Why not, Mrs. Ryan?”

  “Because I...I...I won’t have babies.”

  “That’s right. You’ve chosen another less natural path. But, as you no doubt have observed, men are often aroused by the kind of display you are presenting to us here tonight. Yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “I imagine your late husband, who was young and handsome like our friend here, took pleasure in sucking your smooth, pink nipples, didn’t he, Mrs. Ryan?”

  “Yes.” She hated Abul. She hated the way he kept torturing her with references to poor Jeff.

  “You enjoyed his attentions because your nipples would stiffen just as we see them stiffening now. Your husband’s mouth on them would excite you. Am I not right?”

  “Yes, when he did that...it...it would excite me.”

  “If your husband was here among us tonight, do you think he would take your nipples between his lips and caress them?”

  Still looking down she shook her head. “No...no he wouldn’t.”

  “But why, Mrs. Ryan, why?”

  “Because...because...” she began to sob quietly, unable to finish.

  “Is it because your nipples are no longer pink?”

  She nodded, “Yes...that’s right.”

  “What color have you chosen to make them?”

  “I...I didn’t...,” she began but stopped. “Brown,” she said.

  “Compared to pink, brown is a very dull color, don’t you think? Why brown, Mrs. Ryan? Why did you coat your pink nipples with this dark brown substance?”

  Recalling what Madam Khe had said about the possibility of Satomi giving her to Abul unless she learned to obey the hated Pakistani, she looked up, the tears streaking her cheeks, “I did it to...to honor you.”

  Abul pretended to look shocked. “In what way do these greasy brown nipples honor me?”

  “I can’t...I can’t...” They waited until she was able to continue. “My nipples are painted with a mixture.”

  “Did you apply this mixture yourself because you wanted to? I mean, you were not compelled to do it?”

  “I wasn’t compelled. I chose to do it.”

  Abul glanced at the young man who was shaking his head in disgust. “Tell us, Mrs. Ryan, what is the composition of this brown mixture you rubbed into your pink nipples?”

  Not looking at them, in a quiet voice she replied, “It is partly an oil that makes it adhere and shine.”

  “Go on,” Abul was becoming impatient.

  “And mostly it is...it is a nasty smelling mass mixed with drops of your urine.”

  The young man’s face turned crimson as he rose, “That’s revolting…I never heard of such a revolting thing!”

  Abul grabbed his arm forcing him to sit. Turning back to Kathy he said, “This is a fellow American. His name is Jamal Kedad. His father is an Algerian with the U.N... His mother is from England. Like you, he recently graduated from a fine university in New York. He’s come all this way to find out if we are keeping women here against their will. I’ve shown him the contract you signed, but he wanted to see for himself. So, tell him Mrs. Ryan, are we holding you here against your will?”

  Kathy looked up at the outraged young man. “I have not been forced to come here. I am not being held here against my will.”

  “Why have you come for the training we offer?” Abul asked.

  “Because it is something I need and want.”

  “And the humiliation and pain?”

  Kathy knew what her answers must be. “I accept them, gratefully, because they are necessary. And...and because they are administered by you.”

  Abul looked at the young man who was still shaking his head in disbelief. “Do not be so downcast, Mr. Kedad, before the night is over I’m sure Mrs. Ryan will make your spirits rise.” All the men laughed.

  Abul turned back to face Kathy. “Here, gentlemen,” he gestured toward her, “we have a wealthy American woman who willingly gives up her fancy life to come here so that she can honor Abul.” The two older men laughed. “Lift your breasts, Mrs. Ryan,” Abul ordered. “Look up at us. Thrust them out!” Kathy raised her head and, cupping her breasts, lifted them. “Pride, yes, that’s what is wanted. Be proud of what you’ve done. Tell us, are you proud to display yourself to us in this way?”

  “Yes,” she looked directly at him hoping he could see in her eyes that she despised him, yet was fearful of displeasing him. “Yes, they swell with pride.”

  “Good, Mrs. Ryan. I’m glad to hear it. Now, when you were married and living in your fancy house did you sometimes perfume your breasts as rich American women do? I mean, did you rub your pink nipples with sweet smelling fragrances?”

  “Yes, sometimes I did.”

  “Do you remember the name of the perfume?”

  “Usually it was Chanel.”

  “Chanel!” he exclaimed. “Very expensive. Nothing but the best for Mrs. Ryan. Keep holding your breasts out like that, with pride and ask our guests if any of them would like to suck your brown nipples.” Except for Kedad, the men laughed again. Kathy squeezed her eyes shut and felt the sinking sensation in her stomach. “Invite our guests!” Abul shouted.

  Kathy, still cupping her breasts, looked out over their heads, “Would...would...any of you like to suck my nipples?” she asked.

  Narimov and the man next to him made choking sounds and violently shook their heads before bursting out in laughter. “No...no!” Narimov shouted. “Even the dwarf would refuse.” He turned toward Swar
t who had no idea what they’d been saying. “Would you like to suck the lady’s titties?” he asked. Grinning, the dwarf imitated them and pretended to choke as he shook his head.

  Kathy dropped to her knees and, covering her face with her hands, began to sob. Jamal jumped up and, brushing Abul aside, went to her. Kneeling beside her he spoke passionately, “It is clear, Mrs. Ryan, that these dreadful people have some power over you. They force you to perform in this way. I will take you out of here, back to America. And I will report this place to the authorities!” He reached out to take her arm.

  At that moment Miko, who had moved closer, twisted the dial on the remote. The rapidly spinning brushes sent a powerful shock of pleasure through Kathy’s body. “Do you have a young sister-in-law, Mrs. Ryan?” she asked quickly. Kathy cried out and jerked away from Jamal. Miko quickly slowed the brushes so that they barely turned. Kathy knew what was required to make them continue to spin. She also knew that she had come close to failing the test, that she might be given to the hated Pakistani, and that Mary Margaret was in danger. The men watched in silence as she crawled to Abul. He did not look at her. Instead, he smiled across at Jamal who stood transfixed.

  Kathy bowed her head down to Abul’s right foot and touched her lips to his filthy toes. Miko increased the speed of the brushes. Kathy whimpered and, parting her lips, she extended her tongue to taste him. She looked up at him, “Please, Master Abul, permit me to suck your great cock. For the past weeks that’s all I’ve thought of. Please, I beg you, let me worship your cock.”

  Jamal raised his fist, “This is obscene, perverted!” he shouted. “It’s an affront to all that is human and decent, an affront to God!”

  Abul, smiling, continued to stare at the furious young man. Still not looking at Kathy, he moved his foot so that his long toenails were under her chin. He flexed his toes, lifting her head and, placing the calloused ball of his foot on her cheek, turned her toward Jamal. The brushes were bringing her close to the orgasm she so desperately wanted. Looking up at Jamal, she wet her lips. Her brown nipples glistened. Jamal could see the wild look in her eyes and the quick rise and fall of her breasts.

  Again, Abul flexed his toes, the ragged toenails marking her cheek. “Tell your American hero, Mrs. Ryan, tell him!” he shouted.

  Raising her hand, she gently held Abul’s repulsive foot against her cheek. “I worship the feet of my Master,” she said. Still looking at the shocked young man, she slid her tongue across the bottom of Abul’s filthy toes. “I worship his feet,” she repeated. As Jamal fled from the room, Miko stopped the brushes. Abul lowered his foot. Groaning, Kathy turned back to him and knelt, her head bowed, before him.

  “Let the fool go,” Abul said. “He can’t leave here until tomorrow anyway.” He waved his hand at Kathy, “Look up, Mrs. Ryan, shoulders back, breasts forward...pride, Mrs. Ryan, pride!” The men chuckled as Kathy raised her head and squared her shoulders. “This is Mr. Zembouri, a good friend of Narimov.” Abul pointed to the older man next to Narimov. “Mr. Zembouri also does business with Mr. Satomi. Zembouri was told all about your last appearance here. Before meeting with Mr. Satomi next week, he’s come here from Iran to see you to witness a repeat performance.” Kathy glanced at Zembouri who was leering at her and licking his fat lips. “Mr. Satomi,” Abul continued, “is sent all the tapes of your training sessions, but Mr. Zembouri will be able to give him a firsthand account of your progress. You will want Mr. Satomi to receive a good report. Yes? “

  “Yes,” Kathy said. “Yes, I would like that.”

  “Of course, you remember Swart?” Abul motioned for the dwarf to join them. Kathy turned her head away to avoid looking at the grotesque creature that scurried out of the shadows to stand beside Narimov. Swart was dressed as before, his black muscled arms and naked torso already slick with sweat, the huge knob of his exposed cock dangling between his stubby legs. Coiled in his right hand was the familiar leather whip. Abul motioned to Miko who hurried forward with a bowl of hot water and towels. She quickly cleaned Kathy’s nipples. Abul chuckled, “I think your display convinced the young man that you belong to me. Other than to honor me with this prideful display of your rather odious nipples, why are you here, Mrs. Ryan?” The anger was once more apparent in his voice.

  “I did not obey.” Kathy looked down and, seeing her red lipstick mark on his crooked toes, closed her eyes.

  “What command did I give that you refused to carry out?”

  “You ordered me to...to...lick you...to lick your anus.”

  “And you refused because it was not entirely clean?”

  “Yes, that and...” she amended what she’d started to say. “Yes, that was the reason.”

  “But in the past weeks, you have learned to appreciate the scent of a real man, haven’t you?”

  “Yes.” The color rose to her cheeks.

  “Describe for these gentlemen the morning ritual that has affected a change in your negative attitude.”

  Kathy fought to keep her voice from betraying the disgust she felt. She, who always had the highest reverence for life, could, she knew, kill Abul and watch him die without a moment of remorse. “I...I first put on my make-up. I light a candle. I lie down on a bench. A glass bowl is brought it. It contains a mixture, which duplicates the scent of…of his crotch and anus. The bowl fits into a ring attached to the bench. The bowl also contains a replica of my Master’s beautiful cock. The candle heats the contents of the bowl and causes it to steam. I put my face down into the bowl and breathe. I suck the cock.”

  “How long?”

  “Half an hour.”

  “You do this without being forced? Without being restrained?”

  “I am not forced or restrained.”

  “You have learned to enjoy it?”

  She glanced up at him, her face burning, unable to hide the flash of anger in her eyes. “I have learned to accept it.”

  “But in time?”

  “I don’t know.” She could not bring herself to give him the answer he wanted.

  “If, right now, I were to order you to lick my anus, which I assure you is not absolutely clean, would you do it?”

  She was about to say, ‘no’. Miko, suspecting as much, touched the remote. The brushes spun for just a moment. “I...I...don’t...,” Kathy began. Miko touched the remote again. Kathy could not contain a little cry of pleasure. “Yes,” she looked away from Abul, “I would do it.” The brushes stopped.

  “Get up, Mrs. Ryan, and go over to my guest, Mr. Zembouri.” Kathy rose and crossed the few steps to stand before the fat old man who had never stopped leering at her and licking this pendulous lips. He motioned for her to move closer. He reached around and pulled her to him. Then, sliding both sweaty hands under the back of her skirt, he began to squeeze her ass cheeks. She pulled away, but Abul quickly said, “Let him feel you.” Zembouri felt along her crack down to the wetness between her legs. “Turn around,” Abul ordered, “and bend over so he can see your little asshole.” Obediently, Kathy did as he had commanded. Zembouri flipped up the back of her skirt.

  “Look at that wonderful ass,” Narimov said. “Smooth as white marble, but warm, eh, Zembouri?”

  The older man was running his hands over Kathy’s buttocks. “A fine ass, a fine white American ass.” He teased her anal opening with his blunt index finger. Kathy gasped. “Tight,” he said. “Very tight.” He put his hands on her hips and turned her to face him once more. She looked straight ahead avoiding his eyes. “Tell me, Mrs. Ryan,” he grinned up at her, “where were you two months ago?”

  It was painful for Kathy to remember that time. After several moments she said, “I was at home, in America.”

  “Your young husband was still alive?”

  Kathy shut her eyes and nodded, “Yes, he was alive then.” It was impossible to believe only two months had passed. It seemed a lifetime ago.

  “Tell us about your husband and friends. What did you do as a rich American housewife?”

  Zemb
ouri was like the others. Why did they hate American women so much? “My husband was a very good man: handsome, intelligent, gentle. My friends, too, were attractive, bright, and kind. There was very little for me to do.”

  “So,” Zembouri continued as his fat, damp hands felt along the her thighs, “you were happy and much in love, but essentially useless.”

  “Yes,” she said softly, “very happy and very much in love.” She paused to glance at Abul. “However, you are correct. My life there had no real purpose.”

  “But here you have a function. You are serviceable.” He is, she thought, a pathetic fat pig and he was mocking her. And she was standing here almost naked before him, feeling his sweaty hands on her thighs, then on her ass cheeks. In America this ugly fat old bastard wouldn’t dare to speak to her. His fingers tightened in her ass crack. It was almost as if he’d read her thoughts. He nodded, “You’ve now discovered that your high purpose is to suck Abul’s cock and tongue his anus and offer your young body to me.” The men chuckled. Zembouri’s hand moved back to the inside of her thigh. He pushed his middle finger into her wet pussy. She tried to remain impassive, but she closed her eyes and groaned. “Hah,” he said, as he slowly moved his finger in and out, “the arrogant American lady is quickly aroused by Zambouri’s touch. Just tell me to stop playing with your cunt, Mrs. Ryan and I will. All you have to do is say, ‘stop’ or say ‘please sir, please keep fingering my cunt’.”

  Kathy’s legs began to tremble. She was silent for a moment. He began to withdraw his finger from her slick wetness. “Please, sir,” she said, her face red with shame, “please keep fingering my...my...cunt.”

  Abul laughed. “So, Mrs. Ryan, Zembouri is correct, is he not? Two months after happiness and love with your husband, you stand before us offering your hot cunt to a stranger so he can finger fuck you. You are made up like a whore. You kiss my feet. You tell us you are ready to lick the crack of my ass. And soon you will ask the dwarf to whip you for our amusement. What does all that tell us, Mrs. Ryan?”