by Paul Blades
Two of the maids were loading up large trays with food. This wasn’t the stew that they had eaten, but what looked like juicy steaks. There were roasted potatoes and vegetables perfectly steamed. This was clearly the food for the masters. Carly counted five plates. Lorenzo and his guests. She shuddered when she thought of him as being a room or so away from her. She had feared coming into contact with him all day. To know he was in the next room, the man who had dictated all this harsh treatment for her made her stomach turn sour. Soon, she knew, she would be in his presence again. She cringed at the prospect.
She finished up her food and drank until she was sated. She knelt in position until the maid who had served her her food came back with a cloth and wiped her face. By motion, the girl indicated that she should get back in her cage. When Carly was in, the girl locked it and walked away.
After a while, Vincenzo and Angelika came back into the kitchen. Vincenzo looked at her and walked over to the cage. Angelika stepped over with him. Carly was lying on her belly, her feet stuck up in the air behind her. Angelika said something to Vincenzo and gave a little giggle. Vincenzo spat out an order to her, “¡Presentate!” Carly quickly climbed up to her knees and placed her arms behind her. She thrust out her breasts, gazing straight ahead.
Vincenzo let loose a little laugh. He was admiring the way that Angelika had painted her face. He said something to Angelika and they both laughed.
“You look very pretty, perrita,” Vincenzo told Carly in his deep, somber voice. “Everyone is going to want to fuck you. We have to think up a suitable name for such a pretty doggie. I’ll have to give it some thought.”
“I know,” Angelika said mirthfully. “Let’s call her Zorrita! Just looking at her makes me want to stroke my coño!”
Vincenzo gave out a loud laugh. “¡Es perfecto!,” he replied. “You’re name is Zorrita now, perrita!” he told Carly. “It means little fox, but when used with a slut like you it means ‘little pussy stroker’. ¡Abre tus piernas y déjame verte acariciar tu coño! Spread your legs and let me see you stroke your pussy!”
Carly looked out at her tormentors. They were staring down at her with obvious glee. Now they had given her a horrible, insulting, degrading name! Everyone would laugh when they heard it and they would undoubtedly give her the same order Vincenzo had given her now just to watch her live up to it. She started to tremble. She tried to bring her hand forward from behind her back to obey the man’s salacious command, but she just couldn’t do it. One of the maids was standing by the counter watching her. The cooks had all come to a standstill and were turned towards her.
She looked at Vincenzo. His face had already started to turn red. She could see that he was about to erupt into an outburst that would bode her no good. How dare she disobey him in front of all the others! He would beat her until she screamed for mercy! She had no choice! Inside her little prison, she shook and quailed and a coldness spread through her. “Please move, hand! Please! Please!” she thought madly. And then, just as Vincenzo was about to open his mouth, her right hand came forward. Unconsciously, she rubbed the little paw like thing that covered it on her side to remove the dirt and dust from the floor that had accumulated on it and she lowered it to her coosh. She brushed the pad along her hairless labia once and then again and again. The abrasion of the pad made her pussy tingle. She did it again and then again. She was subsumed with shame and distress. Everybody was watching her! “How long will they make me do it?” she thought fearfully. “How many times?” She rubbed again and again and again. A warmth spread to her loins. “Don’t make me do this, please!” she thought unhappily. “Please!”
Her hand paused. “¡Sigue! Keep going!” Vincenzo spat out. “I want to see your pussy all wet and steamy! Don’t stop until I tell you!”
Carly cringed at the command. She recommenced rubbing the coarse pad on her hand against her pussy. She tensed her lips. She wanted to close her eyes, but knew, somehow, that doing that would be a punishable offense. The pair of them, the man and the woman, were staring at her, their eyes focused on her hand and the crux of her thighs.
That feeling was coming again. There could be few things more shameful than being forced to perform this most intimate act in front of her oppressors. But the very fact of the shame of it caused some organ inside her to pulse with need. She could feel her pussy’s tingling growing. Her rubbing became harder and more insistent. Suckling Angelika’s pussy had left her aching with need. That need was now crawling up from that space somewhere inside her, that space or organ or demon that she had never known she had until she had met her dark abductor. Part of her brain launched a subversive, deviant thought into her mind. So what if they’re watching! It’s a chance to get off! What else have you left but the pleasure your body can give you? Enjoy it! Make yourself come! Let it flow through you! Don’t fight it! Give in! Give in!”
She knew that she had lubricated when the pad on her hand started sliding easily up and down her crevasse. She tried to shake the evil thoughts from her head. “Go away! Go away!” she thought.
“No! No!” the voice said. “Don’t be stupid! You want to be a good whore don’t you? You need to be a good whore, a good fuck doggie, remember!? Remember what she had told you? Forget your stupid shame! You’re a fuck doggie now! A good fuck doggie! ¡Un buena perrita para singar! Let it come! Let it come! It feels so gooooooood! Ohhhhhhhhhh, yes,,,,,yessssssss!”
Her hand had taken on a life of its own. Her knees spread wider of their own volition. “No! I’m not a fuck doggie! I’m not! I’m not!” she fought back. Her pussy had dilated and her clit had stiffened and she was rubbing it in a little circle. “Oh, yes, it feels good! It feels good! Don’t let it feel good! Stop! Stop!”
A shudder went through her. She could feel that her nipples had tightened. Her breath was going deeper and deeper. Her mouth was half open. She licked her lips. “Oh, please stop doing this! Please! Please!” she thought. And then a vision of herself came into her mind. For an instant, she saw what they saw, those who were watching. Her bald skull, the dark painted circles around her eyes, the doggie nose and doggie ears. Her bright painted whore’s lips. A wave of shame flowed through her so violent that she almost toppled over. And, following on its heels, came a wave of lust so intense that she had to gasp and moan.
“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” she moaned. “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”
“That’s it!” the voice said. “That’s it! That’s it! Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, yes, it feels so good! It feels so good! Say it! Say it! Don’t hold back! Say it!”
She could feel the rising of her passions. Her loins were heavy. A tingling went up her spine. She was well past the point of no return. “Yesssssssss! Yesssssssss!” she answered. “It feels goooooooood! It feels gooooooooood! Oh, yes! Bring it! Bring it! I want to come! I want to come! Bring it! Bring it! Bring it!”
Her hand was operating staccato on her coosh. She could smell her own arousal. The man and the woman were staring at her, mesmerized. She released another groan and then another. She arched her back. Her left hand was still behind her and she grasped it tight inside the pad that surrounded it. Her eyes closed to slits, her nose was flaring. She leaned back. It was coming! It was coming! A strain went through her, a tenseness so exquisite that it made her want to scream. Her body was electrified. She could feel her orgasm inching, inching inching towards completion. It was seconds away. Something fierce welled up in her, a suffusion of unbridled energy. There was no moment like this moment on the whole earth, when her climax tottered on the edge of the precipice and every cell in her body screamed with anticipatory joy.
And then it came. “Aaaaaaauuuuurrrrrgh! Aaaaaaauuuuurrrrrgh! Aaaaaaauuuuurrrrrgh!” she cried out. “Aaaaaaauuuuurrrrrgh!” Her pussy’s walls issued a series of fierce contractions again and again and again. Her hand continued to rub her coosh madly. “Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!” she called out.
And then it began to fade. Her body was suffused with a pleasing warmth. Her hand slowed as the last few convulsi
ons of her pussy, fading, fading, fading, swept through her. “Ohhhhhhhhhh, yesssssssssss!” she hissed in her mind.
Then, as if she had been stung, her consciousness returned to where she was, what she had been doing, who had been watching. She opened her eyes. The shame returned. It blew up inside her and made her choke. Tears started to flow down her face. Her hand was pressed against her still distended but now loosened labia. She was too afraid to withdraw it. She felt like she was in the middle of a spotlight inside a huge stadium and all the world was looking at her, perceiving her degradation, her humiliation, her lasciviousness, and that the whole world was scowling at her, calling her, “Whore! Slattern! Pervert! Slut! Harlot!”
A wave of misery flowed through her. They were right! That’s what she was! All of that and more! And now everybody in the whole world knew it!
“¡Excelente! ¡Maravilloso! ¡Fabuloso!” Angelika cried out laughing. “You’ve found your calling, Zorrita! “¡Tu vocación!”
Vincenzo was grinning widely. “!Mas buena, Zorrita!” he said. “!Tu eres un buen polvo pequeña perrita,ciertamente!”
“But put your dirty paw back behind you, you dirty slut!” Angelika spat out. “Don’t you ever let me catch you doing that without permission! ¿Entiende?”
Carly quickly placed her hand behind her. “Yarp!” she called out unhappily.
“And the next time you see either one of us coming into the room, Zorrita, you better hop up into presentation position in an instant!” Vincenzo added. “Don’t ever let me see you lolling around in your cage like that. You’re not here on a vacation, you know!”
Carly issued another bark of confirmation. She had stopped crying, but the wave of shame had left a residue behind and she sank into a woeful funk. Vincenzo and Angelika, still laughing, strolled over to the kitchen table, arm and arm. They sat down cattycornered from each other and one of the maids served them the same steak and other comestibles that had been served to Lorenzo and his crew. A bottle of red wine was placed on the table and two elegant glasses. Vincenzo opened the wine and poured for them both.
They laughed and chatted during their meal like two old friends. Carly’s vision was aimed straight ahead, but she could still see them out of the corner of her eye and once in a while shot a glance at them. All during the meal, while Carly held herself in her strict upright pose, they touched each other’s arms and smiled at each other. Carly surmised that there was something more between them than mere coworkers. What that information gave her was uncertain other than the fact that if they were lovers, sooner or later they would share her between them. It was not something she would look forward to.
One of the maids came back into the kitchen with a tray full of dirty dishes from the dining room. The blouse of her dress was open and her pleasantly large breasts were hanging out. The other maid who had stayed behind said something to her, but the first maid spat out something angrily. It was obvious that Lorenzo had made her show her breasts to his guests. They had even, perhaps, played with them a little while they ate their meal. And it was obvious that she had been forbidden to close herself up since, once her tray had been filled with a large coffee carafe, a creamer and six bowls of vanilla ice cream, she hefted the tray up onto her shoulder and went back just as she was.
The second maid did the dishes and the cooks completed wiping down the kitchen. Vincenzo and Angelika finished their meal, sharing the same coffee and ice cream as the master and his guests, and then strolled off, casting Carly amused glances as they went.
Carly took the opportunity to ease her pose. The cooks took some coffee cups over to the kitchen table and sat down. It had been a while since the first maid had gone out to the dining room, so they sent the second one out to get her. She came back a few minutes later with the used coffee cups and the rest of the dishes. She had the other maid’s dress draped over her shoulder. No doubt the men had found her much to their liking. They had apparently taken her away to serve their pleasures.
Two of the cooks got up from the table and, saying something to the third, put their coffee cups in the large commercial sized dishwasher and turned it on. They left out of the back door, the way Carly had been taken to pee. The maid vanished upstairs as fast as her feet could carry her. The third sat at the table for a while and then got up and turned off most of the lights, casting the kitchen in a soft glow. She came to Carly’s cage, opened it and ordered her out. She replaced the chain from inside the cage with the leash and escorted her out the back door.
It was dark outside. A vast canopy of stars covered the sky. There was no moon, but the pathway to the parking lot was marked by low set, dim lights every 15’ or so. They paused at the point where the dirt pathway diverted from the path to the parking lot. Carly heard some Spanish voices in the lot, voices of men. A door opened to one of the vehicles, a pick up, and the interior light came on. Two men got in, one from each side. They had black hair and brown faces. One seemed older than the other. The doors shut and the interior light went out. The engine started and a few seconds later, the pick up’s headlights flashed on casting the cook and Carly in a bright light. Carly cringed, knowing that the men could see her in her nakedness and in her humiliating posture. The gravel made a crunching sound as the vehicle backed out of its space and then pulled forward, exiting from the lot.
Carly’s heart went with it. Escape seemed so near but yet so far. She looked up at the cook who held her leash. It was the short heavy set one, the one who had fed her and had taken the lead in abusing her when she had come down from the attic earlier that day. Could she beg and plead with her to let her go? Could she cry and throw herself on the woman’s mercy, beg her to please let her climb on the back of the next pickup to leave the lot and take her chances at the gate they had come through? There might be some tools or debris in the back she could hide behind. But no, she knew she couldn’t. The woman had readily, even enthusiastically accepted her as the new perrita, la buena pequeño perrita para singar, the good little fuck doggie, as Vincenzo had called her.
No, she wouldn’t let her go. She would first beat her and drag her back into the house and force her back into her cage. Then she would tell Angelika or Vincenzo, or both of them, and there would be hell to pay. It was just woman on woman, but Carly’s hands were balled up into little fists and her ankles were bound to her thighs. There would be no contest. And even if Carly were to give her a run for her money, she would just call for help and someone would come running out of the darkness to assist her. No, it was not worth the chance.
They seemed to be waiting for something. There was a faint light from one of the windows upstairs so you could see a little bit from the building. A face, a man’s face, came suddenly into the light. He was dressed in a denim work shirt and jeans. He was wearing brown cowboy boots and a straw cowboy hat. He seemed somewhat dirty and disheveled as if he had put in a long days’ work. His gray streaked, black hair snuck out of the hat in places. His face was wrinkled and worn. Although he seemed old, he was powerfully built, maybe about 5’8” tall with thick arms and legs.
The man mounted the short set of stairs to where Carly and the cook were standing. His face broke out into a smile. The cook said something to him that sounded warm and friendly. The man came closer and, giving Carly only a cursory look, a look that said he was witnessing nothing unusual, bent over and gave the woman a tender kiss.
The two spoke for a bit. The man had a gleaming gold ring on his hand, one that matched the cook’s, and Carly assumed that he was the woman’s husband. Carly guessed that it was the old woman’s night to work late, to keep the kitchen fires burning, so to speak, for late night snacks for Lorenzo and his guests. The old man was going home and he was saying good night to her.
Then the old man’s attention turned to her. He asked the woman a question. The word perrita was in it. Carly, who was still on her hands and knees looked up at the man dolefully. The woman answered, a tone of glee in her voice. Carly heard the word Norteamericana.
/> The man laughed and issued another question. The woman gave an affirmative response and then gave Carly’s leash a firm yank, spitting out harshly, “¡Presentate!”
Carly quickly, automatically, shifted backwards and placed her bound legs on the rough cement. She raised her torso, thrust out her breasts and put her paw-like hands behind her back. She looked up at the man, hoping to see some modicum of pity for her. But the man’s crinkled eyes were set with glee.
“Muy bueno,” the man said in his deep, rough voice. “Muy hermosa. Una perrita muy bonita.”
He reached down with one hand and took hold of one of Carly’s nipples. He pinched it slightly between his rough fingers, pulling her breast out from her body and giving it a little shake. There was tequila on the man’s breath. “Bonita tetas,” he said admiringly.
The old woman slapped his hand away and said something impatient and curt. The old man laughed. The woman laughed too. They spoke for a few moments more. The man’s eyes kept flashing from the woman’s face to Carly’s breasts. Then they kissed again. This time they embraced and the man reached around and squeezed the old woman’s buttocks. She squirmed and giggled and pushed him away. The man was laughing. He swayed unsteadily.
The old woman said then, pressing her free hand on her rear as if to straighten out her skirt, “Buenas noches, viejo verde. Te veré más tarde.”
“Buenas noches,” the man replied, smiling. “Hasta luego.”
They parted. The woman and Carly stayed watching as the man disappeared into the darkness once again. Less than a minute later, a door to one of the beat up old pickups opened and the interior lights came on. The man slid into the driver’s seat and the door closed, extinguishing the light. His face flashed into light as he lit a cigarette. The engine started with a rough cough and the headlights came on. The pickup reversed and then pulled out of the driveway. Only one red light followed on its rear, the other tail light apparently out.
