by Paul Blades
The girl was panting as a result of her exertions as her cunt’s contractions dimmed. I rose to my knees and pushed my hips between her thighs. Presenting my rock hard cock to her swollen nether lips, I pushed easily inside.
The slave girl’s body seemed to melt under me as I sank deeply within her. She uttered a low groan as I slowly withdrew my manhood, almost to its length, and then slowly dipped back into her. I covered her body with mine, her firm, plump breasts mashed against my chest. My cock reveled in the moist heat of her crevasse. I pressed myself in to the very hilt and then began to rock my hips slowly, entrancing her with the gentle, small strokes of my cock. She sighed and shifted her hips, dragging her hands along my broad back.
I was entranced too. I felt like we were floating on the night air which wafted the smell of the sea below my cottage through the bedroom window. I could feel the slave’s heart pumping hard and steady in her chest. Her feet slid up and down the back of my legs as she lost herself in the luxurious, languid moments.
I raised myself to my elbows, and, without interrupting the small, slow stoking of her pussy’s fires, took a nipple in my lips and sucked on it hungrily. Mary’s arms grabbed mine as she moaned in ecstasy. I lingered there, playing with the stiff button of flesh, sucking on it hard. I shifted to the other breast and felt Mary’s hips beneath me press firmly against mine. I felt her passion build as I savored my own. I reached behind the girl’s head and unlocked her gag. Her hands and hips were urging me to greater action as her body yearned for sexual completion. I could feel her thighs quiver with passionate expectation.
When her gag was removed, I replaced it with my hot tongue. The girl’s body began to squirm, and she moaned as her tongue greeted mine. My moment was near at hand and so I began long, hard thrusts in her gushing canal. She groaned into my mouth as my cock delved relentlessly, machine-like into her. My own crisis was upon me and I took my mouth from hers and issued a loud, low groan of delight. Our passionate voices mingled as we both crested, our hips thrusting madly at each others’ our loins afire. “Arrrrrgh!” I yelled as my hot juice shot into her womb. I felt as if my whole body could pass through the little eyelet of my throbbing cock.
We lay there intertwined as our bodies recovered from our passionate bout. I felt her hand gently stroke my back as her body lolled beneath me. When I had caught my breath, I rose from her. She looked at me strangely, as if she wanted to speak. I took her shoulder and rolled her over on to her stomach. I fastened her wrist bracelets behind her and then the circles of leather around her ankles. Using a clip from the bedside drawer, I fastened her ankles and wrists together in a hog tie and then readministered her gag. She would await the resurrection of my passion.
Twice more that night, I spent myself in the slave girl’s body. When I returned to the bedroom after another scotch and a smoke on the veranda, I pushed her body over on its side so that I could admire the broad, red stripes I had placed on it. I ran my hands over her breasts and thighs, exciting my lusts. When I felt my cock hardening, I released her hogtie and had the girl lay on her back, her arms bound underneath her, her legs still confined at the ankles to each other. I crawled on top of her and placed my knees on either side of her head. Once I had removed her gag, I introduced my stiff cock to her lips.
The slave girl’s practiced lips engulfed me obediently. I felt my cock slide down her tongue. Her mouth’s moist heat sent a wave of delight through my body, as I slowly and steadily fucked her mouth, using it as I had her cunt. I pressed myself deeply onto her throat, waiting for the signs of her struggle for breath before pulling myself out. When I felt my balls ready to explode once again, I pumped my cock back and forth across her pursed lips, enjoying her tongue’s caresses. As I came, I released my sperm into her oral cavity, letting her have the full taste of my spunk.
I fell asleep shortly afterwards, the bound slave girl lying beside me. I woke up in the middle of the night and, rolling her to her side facing away from me, took my pleasure in her rear entrance, making her moan with discomfort as my thick cock spread the tight ring of flesh. Reaching my arms around her, I held her soft, firm breasts in my hands as I came inside her bowels.
CHAPTER TWELVE
GOOD THINGS COME IN TWOS
About 2 weeks later I received another invitation to visit my overlord in his palace of misery. I had been very happy since Klitzman had made a gift to me of the slave girl Carol. I had weaned her from the Percocet after the first 24 hours. When her mind had defogged, she was exceedingly grateful for her deliverance from Klitzman’s little corner of Hell. She rewarded me with 45 minutes of oral delight. I had also decided to keep Mary. Klitzman had said that I could keep another girl as my permanent houseguest. Since Carol knew her and vice versa I felt it was good for them both to be together. I knew that Carol had been through an excruciating series of tortures while a member of Klitzman’s harem, and I sensed that Mary had suffered some equivalent abuse, although one that had no visible residues. For the time being it would be good for them both to have a comfortable environment. And I liked them.
The daily routine began with luxurious shower, the two of them competing to do the best job assisting me in my ablutions. Either Mary or Carol would finish me off with a loving bj. Although I continued to require her to wear her gag when not using it for sexual pleasure, Mary seemed to grow more comfortable in her new environment once she realized that she would not be whipped every day. I did lay the leather on her once or twice during that period both for my pleasure and her instruction, but I kept it light and limited myself to three sharp blows on each occasion.
On the other hand, I did more than a few times bring home one of the slaves who worked in my club or who had captured my fancy in my rounds about the resort. Carol and Mary would pout as I let the delectable girl give up her body for my pleasure. But when I was in the mood to see a beautiful female suffer intently at the end of my whip, they were happy to have the stranger in the house.
Carol’s back was improving and I felt safe in having her submit to some training in the underground slave center run by Madam Dupre. Every morning, after I had taken my exercise and had my morning delight from one or both of them, I took my brown and black haired beauties, bound and gagged, of course, down to the slave center so that they could partake of the exercise and training programs offered there. Aside from robust aerobic and toning routines and training in sexual technique, the slave girls were taught how to do Kegel exercises to strengthen the muscles of their pussies. At night I usually had to let both of them mount my stiff pole so that they could show me how they were developing their ability to clench a cock at will. I would let them vie for the privilege of receiving my discharge as I lay on my back and they sat atop me. Each had the opportunity to give my hard, fat cock ten strokes before switching. I usually lasted up to fifty or sixty before my cock was ready to give up its juices. By exercising extreme control, I once got it up to 105.
So, on this day, after I dropped Mary and Carol off at the slave center, I made my way to Klitzman’s compound. I had my own pass now and the guards just waived me in. It was hard to arrive at Klitzman’s when it was not mealtime. For Klitzman, lunch was just a time of day. When guests arrived, he would take his moveable feast into the dining area with nary a break for digestion.
When I entered the dining room, I saw two beautiful, young blonde girls sitting at the table facing each other. They were virtually identical in appearance, except for their clothing. The one on the right was dressed in a light blue skirt and a yellow, flowered top. The other wore a yellow and white sun dress. Their hair was tied loosely behind their heads. They looked to be about 21 or 22 years old.
I stepped over to the table and regarded the girls. They were identical twins all right. One looked a little thinner than the other and had a nose that was turned slightly up. However, besides that, they were perfect clones of each other. The thinner one glared at me and spoke up. “What are we doing here? We are being detained against our will. I
want to call our Consul.”
She spoke her English with a heavy Scandinavian accent. “Swedish,” I thought. Just then Rukimo came in along with Klitzman. “Ah Harry,” Klitzman called out as he strode across the room. His large belly wobbled as he walked. “So nice of you to come by for lunch. I wanted you to meet these two lovely girls who have dropped in on us. Say hello to Inge and Ilse.”
“I would, but I'm afraid I don't know which is which,” I said.
“Oh, the feisty one is Inge,” Klitzman replied. She was the one in the sundress with the upturned nose. “Please sit down and I will have luncheon served.” Klitzman sat at the head of the table with the two blondes on either side of him. At the wave of his hand the guard nodded to a slave who had been standing in the corner of the room.
In some tribute to decency, perhaps so as not to alarm the Swedish sisters, the slave had been allowed to wear a microscopically small white sheer sequined skirt and a matching top that had a deep neckline and tied off just under and between the breasts. I noticed the pretty slave girl squirming in the top as if unused to wearing a covering over her plump mounds, whose sides peaked out along the neckline of her blouse. The girl wore the ubiquitous leather collar and bracelets around her ankles and wrists. She padded out of the room in her bare feet only to return in an instant with a tray of appetizers. The guard produced an elegant bottle of white wine and, after showing it to Klitzman, poured glasses all around.
Inge spoke again, ignoring the fat man’s hospitality. “What are we doing here?” she asked petulantly. “I demand to be allowed to go.”
“Now, now my dear, we will discuss that after lunch, eh?” Klitzman said in an effort to cool the blonde sprite’s fires. “Harry,” he said to me, “these two unfortunate girls were arrested a few weeks ago by the mainland police for attempted smuggling. They have been incarcerated since then. I have paid their bail and freed them from the local tribal jail and this is all the thanks I get.”
“I bought them in the marketplace, simple dolls.” Inge spit out. “I told that to the police. This is all so stupid.”
“Yes, undoubtedly,” Klitzman said, “but the smuggling of artifacts is a capital offense in Bowanda.”
I could see the girls stiffen and look at each other, alarm on their faces, as Klitzman spoke.
Bowanda, I was to learn, was a stopover for international flights from points south and north. I guessed that they had taken advantage of a short layover to do some local sightseeing. Well, my second guess was that they had seen all the sights they were going to see for some time.
Another slave girl brought in the main course and held the tray as the guard served us all. This slave's breasts were free, her lower body covered with a short skirt. A youngish girl, maybe nineteen. Her breasts were small, but round and firm. She wore her long brown hair tied behind her head with a pink ribbon which accentuated her little girl look. She also wore, of course, fetters around her neck, wrists and ankles.
Ilse and Inge followed the path of the slave girl closely with their eyes as she stepped around the table. The sight of this lovely, but clearly subjugated wisp of a girl, was surely disconcerting to say the least. I knew, and I think the girls were beginning to suspect that this was one of those frying pan/fire things. As the slave girl left the table area for the kitchen, Klitzman began stuffing his face wildly. Another disconcerting spectacle.
Rukimo and I ate quietly, watching the girls and Klitzman. The girls toyed with their food while trying not to be too obviously disgusted by Klitzman's ravenous gluttony. Andre, Klitzman’s personal bodyguard, a huge, black giant, a close competitor to Rukimo in size and girth, came in and joined us at the table. He was poured a glass of wine and given a serving of food. His eyes took close stock of the two fine young things before him. He clearly disapproved of their being permitted to supp with us masters.
After Klitzman finished his third plate of food, and after the dishes had been cleared away and coffee and brandy served to the men, Klitzman broke the silence of the meal. “Please, let's take our coffee and drinks into the sun room. We can get down to cases there. All right?” he queried the girls. They looked at each other and rose slowly from the table. Ilse still had not said a word, but Inge began to talk again, loudly and insistently. “I have the right to contact our ambassador! I demand to be permitted to phone him at once!” This, as the five of us drifted from the dining area and into the adjacent room which faced the patio and Klitzman's exquisite garden.
“Please sit down,” Klitzman said as he motioned to a sofa faced on each side by two pairs of easy chairs. The girls sat on the sofa. Ilse's face advertised her fear as she sat on the edge, her legs clamped tightly together, her arms folded around her waist. Inge was posturing belligerently, incongruously when seen in the context of her yellow sundress which rode up her thighs as she sat. Her breasts swayed gently in the bodice held up loosely by the thin straps which ascended to and around her neck.
“As I have told you, you have both been charged with a serious, in fact, capital crime. I have managed to use my influence with the government to have the capital aspect of the charges against you dropped. But alas, the charges themselves, I am afraid they still stand.”
“I don't understand what you mean they still stand,” Inge said. Her voice contained a hint of her building fear. “What will be done with us if we are convicted of this ridiculousness?” She pouted as she tried to look fierce.
“It's no longer a case of if, you will be sorry to learn,” Klitzman answered her, his face a mask of feigned sympathy. “Last evening, your cases were heard in the High Court and you were convicted and sentenced.” Klitzman's demeanor had changed in an instant from the avuncular fat man to that of the tyrannous slaver. It took Inge and Ilse a moment to take this bit of news in. Ilse began to sniffle.
“How can this be, what about our trial, a lawyer, our ambassador?” Inge's asked incredulously, her voice raised in pitch and volume. “I cannot accept this! Sentenced you say? What sentence? How can this be? What sentence?”
“The maximum,” Klitzman intoned, as if delivering a death sentence, which, in essence, it really was. “Slavery for life.” Ilse let out a gasp and drew her hands to her face. Inge looked as if she had been slapped. Her eyes darted from Klitzman to me and then to Rukimo and Andre. For the first time she saw the chain dangling from the ceiling in the middle of the room.
The image of the slave girl who had served us, her wrists and ankles bearing leather manacles, a collar around her neck, seemed to flash across her face. “No, this is impossible!” she screamed. She rose from her chair as if propelled by a spring and darted for the door. But Rukimo was right behind her. Ilse rose to her feet speaking for the first time “Inge!” she called, afraid that he sister was abandoning her.
Inge had gone only a few feet when Rukimo caught her. He grabbed her by her hair and pulled her head back sharply. At the same time he forced a ball gag into her mouth. The girl pummeled at Rukimo frantically while trying to squirm free of his hold on her. In seconds, Rukimo had her on the floor and had slapped a pair of manacles first on one wrist and then the other. Inge's hands were clasped tightly in front of her as she struggled, kicking and squirming under Rukimo’s massive frame. Rukimo tightened the gag behind the until now outspoken girl’s head and then pulled her to her feet by her hair. He then grabbed the chain which dangled from the ceiling and locked the end of it to the girl's manacled wrists. He stepped away.
Meanwhile, Ilse had stood motionless, staring at the spectacle of her sister and the large African struggling together. Ilse's face was pale as chalk as she raised her hands to her face as if to block out what she was witnessing. For a moment, all was silent as we all watched Inge closely. Inge was huffing and puffing, out of breath. Her eyes were wide open, glaring, first at Klitzman, then Rukimo and then at Andre and me. The chain looped from her wrists towards the floor for about a foot and then to a ring in the ceiling. Its other end was fixed to a hook in the wall. Inge's eyes left us
and followed the course of the chain down towards the floor, up to the ceiling and across the room. Suddenly, she exploded into a frenzy of motion. She was shaking her head back and forth violently in a vain attempt to dislodge the gag and was waiving her hands about pulling at the manacles and chain. Her contortions caused her to lose her footing and fall to the floor where she continued to groan and shake like an epileptic.
Rukimo calmly walked over to the wall, took the end of the chain which was fastened there and began to pull at it. His first pull merely tightened the chain, but the second pulled Inge's hands off of the floor and over her head. Inge turned her head up and looked towards Rukimo. Rukimo smiled at her and began to pull the chain hand over hand. Inge was slowly jerked upwards, first to her knees, then to her feet. She tried to resist its movement by digging her feet into the floor and slumping down, using her weight to try to force the chain in the other direction. It was useless, her maybe 120 lbs. against Rukimo's strength. In a moment she was standing on her toes, her hands pulled high above her head. Rukimo rehooked the end of the chain to the wall and came back to the center of the room.
Inge’s dress rode high on her long, graceful thighs. She continued to try and free herself from the chain by twisting and turning her hands, and I could hear her muffled but frantic screams. Her eyes were as wide as serving dishes and her pale face had turned a shade of red.
“Now, my little parakeet, we will see what we have here,” Rukimo teased as he pulled a penknife from his robe’s pocket and cut the shoulder straps to Inge's dress. The top of the dress slid away down to her waist, exposing her glorious breasts. Two round, pale globes, rose and fell as Inge struggled to catch her breath and regain some composure. Her face conveyed her fear as she stared at Rukimo and his knife. Rukimo then gave the dress a soft tug and it fell lightly from around Inge's slender waist and to the floor. She stood there on her tip toes, naked except for her bikini panties. They were covered with tiny pastel flowers. She was quite lovely and gave credence to all my speculations about her beauty.
