If You Love Me

by Reese Gabriel

  Often times, she would long for those familiar cocks, for the growling voices of the agents, their bodies freshly scrubbed with Russian soap, their stubbly cheeks patted with cheap Russian cologne, their breath stinking of Russian vodka.

  Like many, she grew wistful, romanticizing the old days, when men were men, when they had no fear of openly wearing their sadism on their chests, like the Lenin medals they pinned each May Day on their suits.

  Each visitor took his opportunity to punish her for the crimes of the past. They would go through her closets, demanding she recount the history of each pathetic item, as though she were some fabulously outfitted Mata Hari. They would go through her refrigerator as well, arbitrarily depriving her of food.

  Ironically, in the new free market, after just a few months, Julyana began to starve. Never had she known such hunger. With her wages at the hotel cut in half by the new private owners, she was reduced to begging her sexual suitors.

  For the price of a bit of cheese, a little meat, even a few crackers, she would kneel between their legs on her kitchen floor as they sat drinking her coffee.

  And there was the new agony of photography. Dirty pictures of herself, under flashing lights, whole rolls of film taken by her lovers to be sold in the burgeoning sex market.

  Then came the worst thing of all as far as she was concerned. A female visitor. At first she thought the woman was some sort of interviewer or surveyor, but when the attractive, short haired blonde in the long coat and short skirt touched her cheek and told her to close and lock the door, she knew what was coming.

  “Please,” she said in vain. “I’ve never been with a woman.”

  “You sound frightened,” the female took her coat off. “You should be. We aren’t nearly as easy going as men. A man wants to get off, and once he has he loses interest. Only a female can truly use and hurt another, building her sexual peak over a period of agonizing hours.”

  The woman had a black attaché case, with devices inside, sharp pins and clamps and a small black battery case with attached wires. “It’s because of me you’re allowed to stay here, you know,” the woman explained as she tied Julyana spread eagle on her bed, using short, nylon straps. “I prefer home visits to the brothel. Scream well for me and we might even see about getting you some creature comforts.”

  “By all that is holy,” Julyana croaked.

  The woman stroked her forehead. “And what would you know of the holy, dear?”

  Under her outfit, the woman wore a black leather corset. She was clean shaven and she had tiny rings through her labia. She wore boots, which she did not take off the whole time.

  Around her waist, she strapped an artificial cock, large and black. “This never tires,” she smiled, running her hand along the surface. “And it has no give. It will take and take and take. If I were you, I would surrender quickly and totally. You’ll still suffer, but at least you’ll survive.”

  Julyana opened her mouth to plead yet again. The woman put her finger to her lips. “Don’t waste your breath. It’s going to happen. I’m going to torture your sex, your nipples, your breasts, then I’m going to fuck your mouth and your pussy, harder than you can imagine, then, when I’m bored with your tears, I’ll turn you over and do the same to your ass. You’ve one purpose in life, Julyana, and that’s to entertain me. Are we clear?”

  “Yes...”

  “Yes, Mistress,” she corrected.

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  The woman smiled, sheer cunning, sublime, almost transcendent. “Good, I’m glad we cleared that up. Shall we begin?”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  The woman laughed. “Oh, dear, you sound so nervous. It can’t be as bad as all that.”

  But it was. All the more so because the woman took her time, making sure that with each agony came a fresh round of pleasure to Julyana’s cunt, irresistible and cruel, in its own way.

  Never was she allowed to climax. The woman worked her to fever pitch, and then moved on. From the nipple clamps, serrated, biting crocodile teeth that swelled and surged and chomped down on her passion to the tiny golden pins, pricking, everywhere at once, reducing her, making her lift her body, writhing, in confusion seeking after unknown sensations.

  And the pussy clamps, flattened versions of the alligator teeth, on and off, on and off, nipping, attacking, wearing her down. Julyana screamed for sex. She begged for it, whined and sweated.

  For all her years of sexual subjugation, nothing was like this. The woman was right. No man had ever used her this way. She was tireless, in control, like a demon from a cool, ice filled hell.

  “Open wide,” she commanded when it was time to fuck Julyana’s face.

  Julyana gaped her jaws, her body one wide open nerve ending as the woman climbed astride her face. She had spread something over the cock, some kind of alcohol that burned her throat and swelled her nose.

  “Got to get the germs out, don’t we little whore?”

  Julyana groaned in the affirmative. Yes, yes, a million times yes. The cock thrust down her throat, her nipples still gripped obscenely, her pussy still splayed.

  “I can do other things to help you, too,” said the woman whose name she would later learn was Paulina. “I can get you a better job. I can even bring Catia home to you.”

  Julyana whimpered.

  “I thought that would get your attention. Don’t you worry,” she cooed, “things will be fine. Just you concentrate on being my absolute pain slut, don’t disappoint me in any way, and I will see what I can do.”

  Julyana devoured the pain, taking the cock so deep it felt like part of her. She pushed her body up against Paulina’s, begging to be used, to be torn asunder, stomped under foot, anything to be found pleasing.

  A thousand times she cried out thank you that afternoon. When Paulina was in her pussy and later when she despoiled her ass, pummeling her face down on the bed.

  Finally Paulina grew tired. Leaving the dildo in Julyana’s ass and the clamps on her body, she ordered the woman to take her place between her legs.

  Paulina was on her back. Julyana crawled to her, licking her pussy and clit. A few short hours ago the act would have revolted her, now it was the pathway to her dreams, to getting Catia home.

  Paulina did not allow her to keep her intentions so noble, however. “Masturbate,” she ordered her tonguing little lap dog. “Show me what a horny slut you are.”

  Paulina laughed at the new humiliation she was able to heap. What choice did Julyana have but to stick her fingers in her wet hole, to play, to take her greedy pleasure?

  “You’re the perfect little cunt,” approved Paulina. “I believe this might work out.”

  Julyana climaxed at the same time as Paulina. Incredibly, shamefully, spectacularly so. Afterwards, when the dark shock waves had passed through her tormented flesh, Paulina allowed Julyana to lay her head on her breast. “You were good,” Paulina stroked her hair. “We’ll try again next week. At eight p.m. If I’m not disappointed, we’ll talk about Catia.”

  “Is she all right?” Julyana wanted to know. “Can I get her a message? Is she in school, studying I hope?”

  “Easy does it,” Paulina chided, not unkindly. “I like enthusiasm in my pets, but I do not like to be pestered.”

  “Forgive me, Mistress.”

  Paulina pointed to her feet. “Take my boots off. Make amends.”

  Instinctively, Julyana knew what to do. Applying her tongue, she licked and kissed the woman’s bare feet.

  “There’s a good pet,” said Paulina. “At this rate you’ll have your daughter back in no time.”

  As promised, Paulina returned the following week at eight. Once again she put Julyana through her paces. This time Julyana knew enough not to pester her with questions about Catia. The whole time she focused her energy on the mistress, being the best pet she knew how.

  Paulina worked her over most of the night before finally allowing her to come. Julyana was not allowed to touch herself. Instead she was
made to press herself against the toe of her mistress’ boot while she sat watching, calm, detached, smirking. Julyana had no pride; brazenly she humped herself on the boot, tits bouncing, her body writhing like a tortured animal caught in an exotic trap.

  Afterwards Julyana licked the leather clean of her come.

  “Enough,” said Paulina.

  The woman left without saying another word.

  Julyana collapsed to the floor, weeping. In all her years, never had she felt so dejected, so helpless. She could face anything...if only she could get her daughter back.

  Catia, I am so sorry, she longed to tell her lovely daughter, for all I have subjected you to. Bringing you into such a world, offering you no protection, allowing you to see your mother in such a dire place all your life.

  The next week dragged into eternity. Was Paulina going to return? Would Julyana get another chance to earn her daughter’s freedom or had she done something wrong, irreversibly so?

  Julyana made no plans for the appointed night.

  She sat by the door, on pins and needles, naked, the way Paulina liked her, ready to throw herself to the floor on her belly, begging for usage. And abuse.

  Eight o’clock passed and Paulina did not come. Then came nine o’clock and nine thirty. Julyana dared not give up. Ten o’clock passed, still nothing.

  She got down on her knees to pray, something no one ever did during the communist times. “Give me one more chance,” she begged. “Let me have my Catia and I will do anything.”

  The knock on her door startled her. It was harsh like the fist of a secret policeman. Grabbing her robe, she went to see who it was.

  Julyana gasped as she opened it. She had never before seen a dark skinned man.

  “What’s the matter, sister? Seen a ghost?” His accent was British, like Catia’s father, though this man was much more muscular, with the look of a fighter.

  “Sir...do I know you?”

  The man cupped her breast. Julyana froze, mesmerized by the look in his eye. “No, but you will.”

  “What do you want?” she whispered.

  “Isn’t that obvious?” He undid her robe. Why wasn’t she resisting? She wasn’t a whore—at least not to common strangers.

  “Please, come inside.”

  “Suit yourself.” The man closed the door behind him. “Let’s see,” he ran his hands over her body greedily.

  Julyana did not resist as he felt her hips through the robe. “Ah, that’s nice,” he approved, undoing the sash at her waist.

  “I’m waiting for someone,” she said lamely.

  The dark man in the turtleneck pushed the robe over her shoulders. “I’m the one. Paulina couldn’t make it, tonight.”

  The name of her mistress unlocked Julyana’s submission. “I’m yours,” she said.

  He weighed both breasts in his hands. “You have a daughter.”

  “Catia,” she breathed.

  “Would you like her to come home?”

  “Yes, Sir, please.”

  “You’ll be nice to me?”

  “I’ll be your slave,” she licked her lips. “I’ll let you do anything.”

  “What I want is simple,” he said. “Fight me.”

  “Fight...you?”

  How long had it been since Julyana had thought of resisting a man? Not since before Catia’s birth, not since her very first experiences,

  “That’s right. Resist me. Make me take it from you.”

  “But...I’m too weak.”

  He laughed. “Of course you are. I said try and resist me, not defeat me.”

  Her pulse raced. “Will you...hurt me?”

  “Why are you asking? I thought you were cooperative. They told me so.”

  “I am,” she swore. “I’m cooperative...I’m a good girl.”

  “You better be. This is the final test, right? Pass it and you get your daughter.”

  Julyana was thrilled beyond words, but a part of her remained cautious. “I don’t know who you are.”

  He brought her to her knees. “I’m your new friend. That’s all you need to know. Now get in that bedroom and get ready. I’ll be coming hard and fast. Be warned, if I conquer you in less than five minutes you’ll never see your darling again.”

  Julyana ran to the bedroom as soon as he released her. She locked the door behind her, buying a few seconds at least. How would she defend herself? There was a coat rack, and a pair of knitting needles.

  Oh, god, she was going to die. Or lose her little girl.

  This was insane. The man wasn’t right in the head. Leave it to Paulina to find someone even more demented than herself to finish the testing.

  “Ready or not,” called out the man. “Here I come.”

  Julyana grabbed the coat rack and needles and hid herself in the closet. She could hear him rattling the knob.

  “Locking the door? Really,” he chided. “I expected better out of the famous Julyana, First Slut of Pristanya.”

  The title rankled—hearing the word slut associated with her beloved home, the second city of the nation.

  There was a loud noise, splintering wood and yielding metal.

  He’d broken through, probably with a kick of his solid boots.

  “Now where are you? This isn’t helping your case any. Unless you want a destroyed room, I’d come out now.”

  Julyana stepped out of the closet, armed.

  “Go on,” he taunted. “Give it your best try.”

  She put the needles between her teeth and attacked with the coat rack. He grabbed it mid air, ripping it from her grip.

  Like a match stick, he snapped it over his thigh.

  Julyana took the knitting needles, one each in her hands. She ran at him, screaming. He deflected her, taking just a small scratch across the cheek.

  She paid heavily for the infliction. He seized her by the waist, lifted her in the air and tossed her on the bed.

  “You have four minutes to go,” he yanked off his shirt and undid his pants.

  Julyana tried to scramble off the bed. He caught her by her ankle. “Going somewhere?”

  She squirmed like a wild thing. He punished her hard, smacking her ass again and again. Julyana did all she could do to avoid succumbing to him in full sexual need.

  Resist...she had to resist for Catia’s sake.

  She flew at him with her nails as soon as he put her to her back. He pinned her hands overhead, holding them easily in one of his.

  “You’re disappointing me, Julyana.”

  “I’m sorry...I can’t help if I’m inferior. I was made to be taken.”

  “Three minutes,” he said.

  She locked her ankles, trying to glue her thighs together.

  “Better,” he approved, jamming his hand into place.

  She wailed as he pinched hard, forcing her to relinquish.

  “It’s not looking good,” he shook his head.

  Julyana had one chance left. She would probably suffer for it, but seeing as she was doomed anyway...

  “Two minutes to spare,” he gloated, positioning his cock for a swift, decisive entry.

  Julyana stretched as far as she could. Her teeth closed on the first target they could reach. The man’s breast.

  He screamed out in agony. Up to then she hadn’t known a man could make that noise.

  He swore to the heavens, trying to get away. Julyana discovered of all the parts of her, her teeth were pretty strong. So were her nails, digging into his crotch as he tried to retreat off of her. Soft ball skin, raked, delicate veins on the outside of his shaft assaulted.

  Releasing him at last, she gave his balls a good squeeze for posterity. Then she kicked him, a mule kick, both heels, right into his solar plexus.

  A woman works up a lot of anger in twenty years of being a communist sex slave.

  The only question as she watched him crumple on the floor beside the bed, knees to chest, was whether she’d gone too far. He might well be a spoil sport and kill her.

  “Are you h
urt?” she asked. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...”

  “Shut up,” the man grumbled. “You’ll spoil it.”

  Julyana stayed on the bed, awaiting his next move. For several minutes he laid on his back, breathing heavily and coughing. Finally, he sat up.

  “Keep fighting,” he grimaced. “Try to get away.”

  Julyana got down and went for the door—what remained of it. The man tackled her in the middle of the floor. “Now I have you,” he said, hissing in her ear.

  She was pinned face down to the floor. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. He spread her ass cheeks and gave it to her—his rock hard erection pushing its way inside her.

  “Take it,” he growled. “Take it up the ass.”

  “Yes...you’ve conquered me,” she moaned. ”Like no one else.”

  “You’re mine,” he plunged. “Always will be.”

  “Your property.”

  “Any time a man fucks you, you’ll think of me...this.”

  “Yes...Master.”

  It was the first time Julyana had ever called a man that of her own volition. The dark man seemed to understand the significance. “Pretty white slut,” he said. “Pretty white slave girl.”

  “M—master,” she groaned. “Come in my ass? Please?”

  He pounded her, hand on his back, forcing the reactions from her. “You deserve it, don’t you slut?” he taunted.

  “Yes...your come in my ass. I need it.” She reared up to meet him. Everything forgotten; her battle for Catia, her tenuous life under the new regime, she thought only of him, with his chocolate covered skin and his long tightly braided hair, like some kind of Caribbean singer. A singing, slave conquering fighter.

  Who knew about Catia.

  But how well did he know her?

  “I’ll send your daughter your regards,” he told her sometime later on his way out.

  “Wait,” Julyana cried, still on the floor.

  “What?”

  “Will you tell her...what happened?”

  He winked at her. “I’ll tell her you fought hard.”

  Again, Julyana was left alone, not a clue as to what was going on. If their intention was to drive her mad, to completely break her resolve and leave her confused and unable to cope, they succeeded wildly.