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Cathy: In this story I try to tell much of the story from a man’s point of view, which is not easy for me. Mark reluctantly finds himself eventually in a position I think most men would love.
ps (to Jon-J): I read your speculation comment at the end of my last story. Well I ain’t admitting nuttin. It’s fun to think there’s a guy out there fantasizing about me. But why didn’t you just send me another e-mail?
Katlin and Missy: Chapter 2 – Buns In The Oven
A sharp pain in the neck awoke me. I couldn’t concentrate, could hardly remember my own name, and it took a while for me to realize that I was cuffed hand and foot and attached face down on a large bed, naked. I imagine there are lots of women who’d find this position exciting. I’m not a female. Nor a pony. The only times I’ve had thoughts about bondage, it was my lover who was tied up.
Once, while I was still married, I had a brief affair with a woman who lived in our neighborhood. She liked mild bondage. But it was just sham, honorary bondage. She’d have me tie her spread eagle to the corners of the bed with men’s dress ties from my closet. She could probably have pulled loose anytime. Not trying was part of the senario. Brenda was a bit of happiness during a booring ten year marriage. She liked things I’d never done with other women. She even suggested them. She was one of the few women I’d had anal sex with and the only one who really liked it.
There was nothing token about the way I was restrained. The cuffs and ropes were for real. I had a ball gag in my mouth, and something stuck in my rear. Like bondage, the anal insert was not something I found exciting. The only thing good about it was it didn’t hurt much, not nearly as much as my neck did. It was probably intended to give pleasure to the sort of people who liked having things stuck up their fannies. I’m sure Brenda would have liked it. She had certainly liked my dick in her asshole.
Someone walked in the room and stopped next to the bed. I started to turn my head in that direction and suddenly again experienced the neck pain, but this time for several seconds. I tried to scream but the ball gag muffled whatever noise I might have made. This hurt so bad I realized the first pain must have lasted only a fraction of a second. I literally saw stars, then nothing. Even though the input had stopped, the after pain was so bad I couldn’t open my eyes for a while.
“Well. Good morning sleeping beauty” said a female voice that could have sounded sexy, but didn’t. “Don’t turn your head until I say you can. First the rules. When we take out the gag, which won’t be soon, you will ask nothing. You will only answer specific questions. If you are ever allowed to talk to other prisoners it will be only in wispers. Understood?”
I couldn’t say anything, and tried to nod my head. But apparently I didn’t respond fast enough. This time the pain in my neck was brief but still intense. I had the feeling she was so eager to “punish” me that she hit her button before realizing that I had done what she wanted. Of course, she never admitted this. Like any man would, I resented this treatment. But I was no kung foo expert. I’d never even been in the military. I hardly knew anything about guns or other weapons and was not likely to fight my way out of this situation. The neck pain was terrible. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I wanted to die, but I certainly didn’t want to do anything to antagonize this sadist. Given a chance I’d have loved to get even.
“You’re angry. You don’t know why you’re here but not happy about it. If you’ve got any balls at all, you’d probably want to kill me for this, and certainly for the things I’m going to do to you. But by the time I’m done, you won’t have any fight left in you. By then you may not be much of a man any more either. Does the prospect of being castrated frighten you? There are other things as well we can do and still keep you alive. By this time next week you won’t even dare think of revenge. For starters, feel this.”
The pain this time was inside my rectum, also brief but it hurt even worse than the neck pain. The thing on my neck was a radio controlled dog collar. I’d seen them in stores. The thing inside me apparently also delivered an electric shock, perhaps no stronger, except that my insides were more sensitive. It felt so bad that I began to think being dead would be better.
“I’m going to turn you over and you are going to be very, very cooperative.”
The operation was complicated, changing where my cuffs were attached one at a time. She was so careful that I was fooled into thinking incorrectly that there was perhaps a possibility of excape. At one point I was facing up and had my right arm free. When she told me to give her my wrist, I gave it to her, fist included. In all probability I wouldn’t have been able to deliver much of a punch with only the one arm free, but I never came close anyway. Of course, it was all a setup. She wanted me to make the attempt just so she could show me how pathetic my chances were of ever hurting her.
She flicked away my hand like it was no more than a fly, and casually slapped me on the chest at the same time, so quick that it looked like one movement. It felt like I’d been hit by a baseball bat and knew she’d broken several ribs. Actually she hadn’t, though she easily could have had she intended to. Clearly she was a kung foo type. I realized when the pain subsided somewhat, that given equal weapons or none, she would make mince meat of me in any situation. I decided later that I wasn’t even sure I could take her out if I were armed and she were not. She was so fast that perhaps she could disarm me before I could even pull a trigger. The idea of attacking this woman with only my arm free was ridiculous.
“Bad boy” she said with no surprise at all in her voice. She’d planned for me to make my attempt. It was an excuse to really punish me even more. The shock in my rectum lasted this time for more than a second. The pain lasted much longer. I couldn’t even feel my “broken ribs” because this swamped out the other pain. A few seconds later when I could see again I actually got a look at my antagonist for the first time.
The “mistress” whom I later privately labelled the “bitch”, would have been attractive on stage in a beauty contest. But she wasn’t lovely. Lovely implies nice, beauty only requires attractive features. She looked almost six feet tall, statuesque. Lean muscles, shapely, probably much stronger than the pathetic “body builder” women who starve themselves for muscle definition. This woman had enough fat to give her sexy rounded curves inspite of her athletic looking body. Tits about medium size, very firm, slim waist, long legs. I’m six-two so I like tall women. I tend to like women all heights. But this one definitely wasn’t my type. Only a guy with a slave personality would want her for his mistress.
All this was very apparent because her leather outfit was no more than a bikini decorated with gold chains. As I stared, she slowly stripped off first her bra top, then her thong bottom. She had tattoos right on her nipples. Clearly this woman liked pain, even receiving it. When she slipped out of her bottom she made sure I was watching. No pubic hair. That didn’t surprise me. I was surprised that I didn’t see any tattoos in the area where her beaver had been, a very popular place for the adventurous female. And this one even had her nipples done. Then as she slid the front down past her vagina opening I saw what she wanted me to see. Both her labia were fully tattooed with a sawtooth pattern. I bet that didn’t turn guys on much. And it must have hurt her like hell having it done. I don’t even have labia. But I’ve licked enough women there to know how sensitive they are.
“Well my little rabbit. Now it comes down to me and your dick. I like sex and pain, especially pain for my partner. I specialize in “educating” females before they’re sold to brothels. So I don’t get that much chance to play with guys. Shall we play?”
If I was supposed to respond to this then she had another excuse to zap me. But instead she simply bent over and began sucking my limp dick. No way was I going to respond the way I was feeling. But I underestimated either my libido or her ability. Within a few seconds I was hardly aware of either the pain in my chest or the one in my ass. Mostly I was aware of the scrumptious feeling of soft warm lips massaging that part of a man’s body that loves it the most. I felt myself swelling up, enlarging, getting stiff inside her mouth. This girl could really suck good! It didn’t hurt that when I tried to look down at what was happening, mostly all I could see was this georgeous pair of tits. The more she sucked me the more heavenly she began to look. My dick began doing all my thinking. I’d never before had an attractive woman try to control me with her sexuality. I discovered that she could make me react pretty much as she wished.
When she had me rock hard, she stopped and looked at me with a strange smile. Some women manage a nice smile while fucking, though many look like they’re in pain when they’re having an orgasm. I’ve always had a preference for ones who liked to smile while I’m fucking them. But I never want to see one with this type of smile. Somewhere in the back of my brain I knew I should be even more scared than I had been before she started sucking my dick. But when she started kissing, then nibbling my nipples, my penis only got harder, if that were possible. One hard bite on each one, almost bitting them off. I knew it was hurting me, yet I loved it. Each abuse brought me very close to climax.
Suddenly she was squating over me, lowering her vagina around my rock hard shaft. It may have been tight, but she jambed us together so hard that I couldn’t tell anything other than that we were suddenly fully coupled, my erection deep up inside her. It probably hurt her more doing it that way, and this girl loved hurting herself. It hurt me some also. And that was clearly fine with her as well. I was close to climax, and had the joining been simply smooth and pleasurable I’d have probably hosed her insides the second I was fully inside her. But while my pecker was recovering from the shock she suddenly raised up, disengaging completely, and repositioned herself with her anus directly over my overly ready erection.
Perhaps she’d lubed herself and my dick was certainly wet with pussy juice. For whichever reason I felt myself slide easily up inside her rectum. I don’t think she was trying to make this pleasant, only successful. It had been many years since I’d felt my manhood inside a woman’s fanny. I couldn’t remember it feeling this good. My enemy slid herself up and down my shaft delighting herself with the feel of me inside her. I’m not sure she cared how much I enjoyed it, but I couldn’t help myself. If things had ended here I would have loved her for the physical pleasure inspite of the fact that I’d much rather have been the one on top, her the one in bondage. But the incredible pleasure her anus was giving my penis was incidental to her.
Just when we both knew I was going to explode, she suddenly popped off me and attacked my manhood with her lips again. There wasn’t time for another good suck. Nor was this her intention. A quick flick of her tongue across my piss hole and I was erupting into her open mouth. Most of it landed inside. She squeezed my penis hard, as if trying to hurt me. But it felt wonderful. She licked some of the cume off her lips and looked at me.
“Good enough,” she said as if commenting on the quality of my cume. “Well, we still have to take care of your punishment. That little thing I did to you before was just a hint. But I would wouldn’t have gotten an erection out of you if I’d administered the punishment first.”
Saying this she hit me with a longer pulse of anal shock. During the sex I’d almost forgotten the dildo was still inside me. I blanked for some period of time, and woke up still tied spread eagle face up. She was doing something to my genitals. My insides were in such agony that I couldn’t actually feel what she was doing beyond the fact that she was doing something, but apparently she was attaching electrodes to my scrotum.
Next she started playing with my dick. No way was I going to respond to that, though any other time she could have given me an erection with this hand job. I’m thirty-eight. Any time an attractive woman touches me there I get an erection. It had even happened once when a female doctor was examining me. But it didn’t happen this time. And after what happened next I wouldn’t be capable of any erection for days.
What she was doing was sticking a thin metal wire into my piss hole. It was a second electrode.
“Any time you think about getting brave again remember this as well.”
Of course I lost consciousness. What man wouldn’t after having his dick and scrotum both amputated simultaneously with a dull, rusty knife?
An expert told me many months later that such an amputation might not have hurt as much in the short term as what she’d done to me. When I awoke, I wished I hadn’t. I could tell by looking that my dick was still there and the electrodes were gone. I would have eagerly given up my manhood to stop this pain. Obviously I wished I were dead, literally.
I’d suffered pain so intense that I should have emptied my bowels. I probably tried to, except that it made no difference. See, I’d had this plug up there. Nor did I have much shit inside me to start with. For over a month I’d been hiking the CDT and eating only 12 ounces of food a day, losing thirty pounds. My bowel movements had become very regular due to all the exercise, and very small due to the almost starvation diet. I still considered myself overweight, but much less than a month earlier.
With all the pain I was in it was a long time before I realized the anal plug was no longer inside me. There was a yellow ribbon tied around the base of my genitals with a note attached. I couldn’t see this. Nor feel anything except the overriding pain. I was told later by a young woman that the note said “love and kisses”. Apparently the sadist thought she was a comedian.
Since we were allowed to talk in whispers, Missy and I exchanged observations. What little she knew wasn’t any different from what I knew. karşıyaka escort bayan We’d both been kidnapped the same afternoon and neither of us could remember anything about it. I could remember being in class during the early afternoon, but she wasn’t sure she could remember anything at all from that day. We’d both figured out we were in the basement of a house, probably in some isolated location. While we could hear some noise from outside, it was only natural sounds. No voices or sounds of civilization. It was very unlikely that anyone would hear us if we screamed. Nor were we about to try.
For a week the two of us had been confined in seperate rooms while we were being “educated”. The education had used pain that became somewhat sensual as the week progressed. It had been administered at first by both a neck collar and an anal dildo. Each delivered an electrical shock. The one on my neck hurt something terrible, the one inside my rectum even worse. But the shock was always extremely short, a fraction of a second. Sometimes the anal one was used to pleasure us. During an orgasm a quick jolt in my fanny seemed to add spice making me cume with even greater pleasure. It had taken several days for the mistress to transform me into such a sexual pain slut that I would react this way. As much as I loved these constant orgasms I was forced to suffer, I still felt bad about what I’d become. Missy and I were both afraid she’d ruined us for real sex before we’d ever even tried it. We were both technically virgins, though our pussies had been stretched and abused more than most, but only with dildos.
This was because of the third thing we had to accept: vaginal dildos that had to always be kept in place except when taking a piss. After all the “training” I really didn’t even like removing the thing and always reinserted it as quickly as possible, as instructed. It was a little awarkward. The vaginal dildos were bigger than an average man and the anal plugs were not small. With both of them inside, walking caused funny things to happen inside my pelvis. Erotic but uncomfortable. I never wanted to pace around. The most unusual thing about our vaginal inserts was an attached hood that filled the rest of my vaginal opening, cupping my clit. A radio signal would activate a vibrator turning either Missy or me into a rutting slut with no ability to think, only react with an intense, immediate orgasm. I suppose these orgasms were “rewards” for being good girls. But they were also part of our education. We quickly learned to love it when she pushed the button.
We knew the place had more than one of these prison rooms in the basement because Missy had been held in a different one for a while before we were put together. Hers had no bathroom and one wall of bars seperating it from a hall. The bars were not there to observe prisoners. The cameras did that better, covering the entire room. Nor could you ever tell if someone was looking at the monitor screen, so you always had to assume you were being observed. The bars were for bondage.
Missy described this to me, but I would soon experience it myself. The mistress would appear on the other side and tell her to back up against the bars, and where to place her wrists and ankles which were immediately fastened in place. The first time she also had a strap tied around her waist, and had her fanny forced back hard against the bars. The routine sometimes varied. But usually the regular dildos were removed and others used. The mistress seemed to like a long night stick for anal abuse and an especially wide dildo for pussy stretching. Missy told me that by the time this began, she was already spoiled so much that she liked being abused. When the mistress pulled her cheeks apart opening her up for easy access, she loved it and loved the anticipation of what was obviously about to happen. With the bars pressed firmly against Missy’s ass cheeks, she stayed wide open while the mistress took all the time she wanted.
The second time this happened, the waist strap was not used. Missy willingly pressed her fanny flesh against the cold bars making it easier for the mistress to administer the “punishment”. And she maintained the pressure so that when her fanny was forced open Missy herself made sure it stayed open.
But in the beginning she had been less cooperative then I. She was still wimpering when I was already wallowing in pleasure when the same things were done to both of us. Of course, I was pretty horny for a fifteen year old, only still a virgin because neither of my two fifteen year old boyfriends were willing to do to me what I did with my dildo most nights. It had taken me only about a day to become a slut. It probably took two days for the mistress to accomplish the same thing with Missy.
Even that was amazing considering her background. Her fanatical mother would have been horrified that Missy hadn’t held out longer. Becoming a slut was a fate worse than death. Missy, fortunately, was a bit more flexible then her mother. Perhaps she had no choice. Perhaps the mistress could have managed her mother with equal ease. That would be something to see, Mary Pratt bending over and eagerly accepting a dildo up her ass. The woman believed that sex was evil, but sometimes necessary in order to make babies. How she’d ever duped Missy’s father into marrying her amazes most people, in spite of the fact that she used to be stunningly beautiful. What’s really the question is: why didn’t she just latch on to one of the men in her radical religious sect?
Missy thought we’d been in the prison about a week when they put her in the same room as me. At first we were both still constrained, I face down on the bed, she spread eagle upright against the wall. I’d fallen asleep and awoke with her still there, feet attached to the wall, held wide apart. But she was sitting on the floor with her arms fastened behind her. My arms were free and I was given verbal instructions to finish releasing myself then her. Thereafter we were kept together and our education continued. I think the mistress just liked being the teacher. We hardly needed any more learning. We’d already been fully brainwashed.
Missy and I were not allowed much freedom beyond the use of our hands and the use of the bathroom. The neck straps were glued closed. The dildos had to be kept in place except when using the toilet. I’d been fed infrequently before they put us together. For this the mistress removed the gag temporarily. Of course, following the rules, I never dared ask why she was doing it this way. When she left me I was often gaged and fastened again spread eagle on the bed. When I was left unfettered I was allowed to drink from a cup in the bathroom, but had to do it slowly because I was told to leave the gag in place. I didn’t know until later that I probably couldn’t have removed it by myself anyway.
In Missy’s case she wasn’t given access to a bathroom. She was fed and watered with her arms restrained behind her. Nor was she released when she had to empty her bowels and bladder into a bucket. Neither of us could ever come up with a theory as to why she was treated worse than me that first week. And one didn’t dare ask.
A few hours after I was allowed to release the snap lines attached to our cuffs, the mistress told me over the intercom, to attach Missy’s wrists cuffs to the wall clips. Since I didn’t have to do her feet also, she could stand up straight keeping the strain off her arms. The mistress then entered and led me to another room, one with bars and a bathroom, so apparently it was a third jail room. I was left there with my wrists attached to the wall. During the walk between the two jail cells I never even considered the possibility of attacking my jailor. She was bigger than me, obviously much stronger, and confident. I didn’t even know she was the hands of death. Mark got a small demonstration of some of her abilities. Neither Missy nor I had even rated the need.
A minute later Missy was led in and the bar door locked. She was told to release me and then we were both told to assume the “position” against the bars. They probably heard Missy explaining this to me earlier and knew I would know what to do. Of course, I’d already been sexually abused so many different ways that I was only curious about how it would feel. I was looking forward to it. By now almost ever form of abuse, no matter how abrupt or painful as long as it was also sensual, was an orgasmic experience. Yet I wasn’t sure if I could get my rocks off without pain. The mistress had never fucked me without hurting me.
Of course, I loved it. It became almost immediately one of my favorite forms of punishment. It wasn’t so much the physical insertions, since that always happened. I think what I liked most was hanging there from the bars, about as helpless as imaginable with my crotch wide open and accessible between two wide spaced verticals. The fact that I was expected to press fanny into the best position making me an accomplice to my own degradation only made it all the more thrilling. Nor was pain deleted. When asked I was expected to beg for it, and my wishes were granted! Before, when I was gagged I could say nothing, only grunt. But now I was allowed to praise the mistress, proclaiming my undying love for her and the discipline she was giving me. I may have even believed some of what I was saying.
One thing I really loved was pressing my fanny against the bars. I loved being raped so much! But this gave me a physical way to demonstrate my pleasure. When the mistress pulled my buns apart, I was expected to maintain the pressure. It was my responsibility to keep myself spread the way she’d left me. Missy had told me that she actually liked doing this, and I’d believed her. But the adjective should have been stronger. I really loved holding myself open while the mistress abused and delighted my two love holes.
I had to be careful when she stuck the anal thing up my fanny. It was thinner than the plug, but also much longer. Long enough that it could never be stuck inside me all the way. I’m not a doctor and don’t know much about anatomy. But I think she worked this thing through my rectum and partly up inside my intestines. It felt like she was gently rearranging things inside me slightly forcing my insides to take in that extra inch of straight probe. When she had it inside me as far as possible she would just hold it there during which time I would hold very still. I felt like the slightest movement would do terrible things to my insides. Yet it didn’t hurt much. I felt so terrible vulnerable, so helpless. And while it wasn’t pleasant, I sort of loved the way this made me feel so subservient. It certainly enforced my love hate relationship with my mistress. I should have hated her for doing this. Yet I think mostly I loved her because I could trust her. Sort of. At least she never killed me by twisting hard on the stick when it was so far inside me.
The anal abuse wasn’t all scary. Much of the time she’d simply shaft me with around eight inches of the stick. Feeling the shaft lightly holding open my sphincter while sliding in and out of me with my rectal walls pressing in against it was absolutely devine! This was always done after I’d experienced some form of pain, and the sweet pressure was all the nicer for that reason.
By comparison, the vaginal abuse was much more straight forward. It hurt beautifully. The dildo didn’t go all that far inside me. Mostly it was this tapered insert that widened out to some huge diameter. Probably wide enough to hurt any woman, perhaps fatally. I never got to see it, only feel it inside me. My pussy lips could feel that there was always more to it that continued getting bigger. With the taper and the KY a girl could do nothing to prevent her stretching. Or tearing if the mistress decided it was time to damage her captive. I could imagine being executed by being forced to bleed through rupturing in both of my love holes. She had threatened this possibility several times.
Still, in spite of the death threats, or perhaps because of them, I found my vaginal stretching very sensuous. Erotic. The woman could kill me so easily, any way she wanted. The fact that she often suggested sexual ways of ending my life was probably just part of my education. As she expected, I found the threat exciting. Though I didn’t orgasm as quickly with the “stretcher” as I did when she turned on my clit vibrator, I got there eventually, just as strongly, and loved enjoying the “foreplay”.
This phase went on for only a few days. Then things changed drastically. One morning Missy was instructed to attach me to the wall. Then the mistress came in and attached her. We were both facing the wall so we got a poor view of two more Amazons carrying a body in the room. They deposited him on the large bed that Missy and I had been sharing. It was quite large, probably a king, and the only furniture in the room. Before the mistress left the room she released me but said not to move or turn around until she locked the door behind her.
It was clearly a man, no tits, and a shrivelled looking thing where a girl has her vagina. This had a yellow ribbon tied around it. Not being very experienced I didn’t know that the pictures I’d seen of semi erect dicks had never shown me a totally deflated one. Nor had I ever felt a boyfriend through his pants without encountering something much more significant than this. I actually looked at it with disappointment for a few seconds before going to Missy and releasing her.
Missy knew even less about male anatomy than I. She simply accepted the thing, thinking perhaps that the dildos we kept parked in our vaginas all the time were not necessarily modelled on nature. Actually, she reacted much more to his pathetic condition than to the condition of his genitals. The man looked like dead meat. But he was obviously breathing, painfully. He was not conscious and we both realized it was better that way.
The man was cuffed like us. The cuffs themselves, his and ours, were glued shut like our neck collars. His were attached to the bed corners like mine had been so many times. But I was willing to bet he’d never learn to like being restrained that way. Whereas it had only taken about a day before I learned to love it. I didn’t even like sitting with my legs together anymore. Anyhow, most of the time I was given no choice. That week when I was alone, I’d gone to sleep and awoken and spent most of the days lying on my back in that bed with my legs held wide open. escort karşıyaka I immediately unsnapped his cuffs and moved his arms down to his sides where I thought they’d be more comfortable.
But I didn’t try to move his legs. Something had hurt him very badly, and even in sleep or coma, his body resisted any postion that put any pressure on his scrotum. Of course, I may not have known what she did, but I certainly knew who did it. At that moment I might have forgiven her for all she’d done to me since I ended up loving it. But I knew I could never forgive her for what she’d done to this man.
Missy and I spent several days fussing over his ruined body, but neither of us knew anything about nursing. Fortunately he didn’t really need any medical attention, just rest. The first night he mumbled a little. The second day he may have been slightly lucid. His words started forming full sentences. I think he was asking us to kill him. Two days later he could actually talk and seemed to realize that the two young girls in the room with him were willing to do almost anything for him except that. That day we managed to get him to drink. He was probably becoming dehydrated, but didn’t care. I think he only drank to get us to leave him alone. I was surprised that he hadn’t soiled the bed, but apparently both his bowels and bladder were empty. Thinking about this I realized that none of us had been fed since we’d been put in the room here with him. It didn’t make any sense for them to starve us to death, and I assumed it was just another intentional discomfort, that we’d be fed eventually. Come to think of it, the mistress had also been sexually neglecting us during this time. My pussy and anus were missing the abuse even more than my stomach was missing the food.
After three days he could sit up a little and talk quietly which was all we were allowed to do anyway. He didn’t have energy for anything, even wispering, but he listened to us. Somehow Missy and I both wanted to tell him everything imaginable. Perhaps we felt bad about what had happened to us and wanted to confess our sins. But to him, not to each other. Maybe we just wanted to bare our souls to a man and he was available. Something about what had happened to me felt incomplete. I would have been much happier if the mistress had been a man. And much happier still if such a male master had taken some interest in using what my body had to offer. I wanted a man to love. I wanted to love this man. It would even be ok if he wanted to love me back, but hardly necessary.
Of course Missy felt the same way. We’d been turned into sluts and felt incomplete without a man. But we didn’t feel like we were in competition for him. No rules applied here. Certainly there was no rule which required loving couples. If he ever recovered his manhood, we’d willingly share him. Soon we would learn that we had to.
I thought I was delirious. I probably was for a while. But the two beautiful angels were real, though I wasn’t in Heaven. In fact, I was still in Hell. All three of us were. If I’d been somewhere other than in wilderness isolation, I’d have probably heard about them. It had been in the papers for three or four days before I was snatched. Like them I could remember nothing of the time immediately before I was captured. I remember getting up one morning, walking a bit then waking up in the bed. I was supposed to cross a road that day, the first after a three day stretch of nothing but woods. But I was not planning to go into town for supplies. I supposed someone, probably the Amazons, grabbed me at the crossing. I had been hundreds of miles from the city where the girls lived. I imagine our prison was at least an equal distance from either place. They apparently liked keeping captives unconscious while transporting them great distances. Very professional.
The girls took a flattering interest in me, eventhough I could hardly talk and probably looked a mess. For a while they whispered continuously telling me anything and everything about themselves, no detail too personal or obscene. A lot had to do with bowel functions. I myself was too disoriented to adsorb much of this or realize how bizarre it was. And later, when I was coherent enough to understand what had been done to them I was no longer surprised at any aspect of their behaviour. My own “training” was simply pain, with a touch of rape, and all they wanted me to learn was fear. The girls suffered less pain than me, but were also forced into becoming sluts. Sluts was the word they used. They also called themselves sexual pain sluts, an epitath impressed upon them by the mistress. They’d become addicted to pain in sex, but had been going through some sort of withdrawal. Other than forget to feed them, the mistress had done nothing to them since she’d put them in the cage with me.
Apparently, one withdrawal symptom was being stuck in a constant state of arrousal. At first I just thought they both had unusually large nipples.
His name was Mark. He couldn’t talk much, but we learned that he was 38, divorced five years, and had recently quit working to take up hiking full time. It wasn’t expensive apparently, once you had your equipment, and he had saved enough to pay for food and supplies for many years. He seemed to be a totally random addition to our group.
I kissed him for the first time on the third day. At least it was the first time he knew about it, though Missy and I often kissed his forehead when he was sleeping. Missy and I had talked about it and decided it was time to show him a little affection. After I kissed him I think he noticed for the first time that I was naked. That we were both naked. I even saw his thingy twitch a little. Missy and I didn’t mind being naked but it wasn’t fair that they wouldn’t let him dress. A man should be allowed privacy when he needs it. Men are much more self conscious than we are. Girls are raised to think of their bodies as sexual objects and not feel any real surprise about the fact. Of course, in Missy’s case that was considered bad. In my case my mum had never told me it was sinful to be attractive. Even at fifteen I’d already learned to like teasing boys with my body. In fact, I had wanted to do more than just tease them.
On the fourth day the mistress showed up, though I’m sure we’d been carefully monitored while we’d been left alone. The two of us were ordered to back up against the bars for “punishment”. For the first time I wasn’t eager to comply. I wasn’t sure I wanted him seeing me raped, nor especially my enjoyment of the act. I’d told him about it, especially the fact that I loved it. But I wasn’t sure I wanted him to see me degrade myself. Still, I didn’t dare be tardy in my compliance or even let show that I was anything less than ecstatic. I especially felt bad having to profess my undying love for my mistress while she forced repeated orgasms out of me.
For some reason the mistress seemed more interested in raping my vagina than my anus, when it was usually my shit hole that drew most of her attention. I think she did this because Mark could better see what she was doing to me in my baby hole since I was facing him. I have no idea whether he wanted to watch her abuse us, but he was given no choice. Right at the beginning she told him that if he looked away or closed his eyes, she would punish us with the neck collars. Had she threatened him he might have been tempted to defy her. In spite of the pain he’d suffered and her promises to the contrary, she still hadn’t broken his spirit. Maybe he was just fatalistic, in the mindset of a soldier willing to sacrific himself. Mark would have fought her given a slight chance of success. But she countered this by threatening us instead of him.
By threatening us he had no choice. He would hardly protect our “modesty” by causing Missy and I to suffer physical pain. After a while I realized I didn’t care. In fact I sort of liked the fact that he was watching. If he could only believe that I was actually enjoying it then maybe he could even enjoy the pornographic performance I was being forced to give him.
“Ok stud boy. Here’s a new rule. Everyone gets to eat only if you fuck one of the girls and cume inside her pussy. No credit if any of it leaks out, so I suggest you stay coupled for a long time after you climax. I doubt you’ll be able to manage it with either one today, so I won’t be planning to fix any extra suppers. Of course you could try to surprise me.”
She left the two of us hanging against the bars. Missy and I were both surprised at this turn of events, but not unpleased. Mark, however, did not seem overjoyed. As soon as the bitch left, he dropped his head into his hands, no longer being required to witness our degradation. I don’t think he realized she left it up to him to release us. I almost didn’t want to say anything to him because I wasn’t actually very uncomfortable and I knew any movement for him was painful. But I knew it was the only way we’d get released. For some reason, Missy always leaves things like this up to me. I’m only a few months older than her, but both of us act like I’m several years her senior.
“Mark. Please look at us. We’re not ashamed about you seeing us like this. You being here actually makes it more bearable. But I have to ask you a favor. The mistress isn’t going to come back and release us. You have to do that. She always does it that way when it’s just Missy and me. The free one has to unhook to other one.”
At this his head snapped up. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to look at us in our degradation. But he sure wasn’t going to allow us a second more discomfort than necessary. He got up slowly, walking for the first time with great pain. But to his surprise it got quickly easier. By the time he crossed the room he was almost walking normal. It only took him a minute to get both of us down. When I stood next to him I discovered that he was quite tall, over six foot. A fifteen year old girl who’s five six gets a little tired of her love interests being shorter, which had often been true. Missy is five four and not as concerned about finding tall guys. In fact, during her sheltered life she was mostly kept away from boys of any height.
For some reason he freed Missy first. But she simply stood to the side while he did me. So this gave me the chance to hug him first. I was careful to avoid touching against his genitals. How were they ever going to recover enough to do what needed doing? I feared it would be several days before we got to eat. I also feared that my disappointment was due mostly to something other than hunger for food.
I knew the girls wanted me to fuck them long before the bitch told us I had to. And hunger was the perfect incentive. No rush, do it when you feel like it, with the girls getting hungrier every day. They were both pretty skinny. I’d probably still be living comfortably off my remaining fat when they both fell into comas. I wasn’t worried about doing it, though I might still need a few more days recovery. What I was worried about was the fact that I was sure I’d enjoy it. There’s a name they have for thirty-eight year old men who fuck fifteen year old girls. Several names. But I was more worried about what the girls would think of me than what the law would say. The first time I ejaculated inside either one of them, they would see me enjoying it.
After releasing the girls, they both insisted on hugging me. Fortunately they were both careful. I felt like a fragile old man. When they finally left me alone I felt like remaining vertical. I had been horizontal for many days. As long as I moved slowly and kept my legs a bit apart, it actually felt better standing up. I walked slowly around the room feeling circulation returning, in some places painfully. But it was a good cleansing pain.
Walking was hard work, even at a snail’s pace. But by the time I sat down I almost felt half human. There was only one place to sit, on the bed. For the first time I noticed how large it was, a full size king. I suppose, as long as no one was tied out spread eagle there was plenty of space for three. With their help I got myself up on the bed and laid down in the center. In my condition I didn’t really want them to touch me. But they both wanted to lie next to me anyhow, so I was stuck with the middle.
The bed had two sheets but no blanket. Katlin, always thoughtful, had quickly removed the top sheet before I sat down so I didn’t have to get off it later. Missy is just as nice as Katlin, but not always as alert, while Katlin, or Kate as she sometimes prefers, is more inclined to think ahead than most teenagers. I don’t think Katlin really likes to assert herself, but Missy is a hard core follower, never a leader.
The following morning I awoke with the top sheet missing. I had a much nicer cover, a beautiful fifteen year old girl with a georgeous face, pert little shapely tits and large rosebud nipples, still swollen to the point of bursting due to her withdrawal arrousal. Or maybe it was lust for me? I could hope. I’d been told (by her, and very proudly) that the size of her nipples was not normal. They merely showed how much she wanted me. The girl had an excellent figure, a little on the skinny side but with a sexy round bottom. This discription would have fit either girl. They only differed significantly in hair color and a little bit in height. It happened to be Katlin, who usually did most things first. At the moment she was squating over me, squirming around, rubbing her nipples on my chest. She was also being careful to avoid putting any pressure on my genitals. I almost told her I was feeling a little randy and might be ready for a little gentle stimulation down there. But the sight of her delicate titties bobbing around in front of my eyes was distraction enough to keep me very happy. And between her tits I had this peek-a-boo view of her cute little mound, the pubic hair still sparse enough for me to easily see her slit of heavenly bliss.
Missy’s not as imaginative as Katlin. But I enjoyed her identical show just as much when she took a turn. She doesn’t look much different. But I knew them enough now to know the big difference inside. Missy was never sure of herself. Even being submissive, she was so shy that she followed Katlin’s lead. Katlin was teasing and offering herself. Missy didn’t understand the teasing. karşıyaka escort She was just giving herself to me completely. Missy had a heart made to be broken. I couldn’t see how I could possibly avoid breaking it.
A day later I had intercourse with Missy because Katlin insisted her friend have first chance and Missy is incapable of arguing. So an hour later we got to eat.
Did I tell you how it feels to fuck a fifteen year old virgin? I can’t. I haven’t the foggiest. These girls weren’t virgins. But I can tell you how it feels to fuck a fifteen year old angel. In fact I can tell you how it feels to fuck two such georgeous young creatures. Fantastic. Neither girl was the least bit reluctant. They were pretty much both the most enthusiastic lovers I’ve ever had. Not much experienced in male-female relations, but very talented with their pussies. Orgasms on top of orgasms. I know I hadn’t suddenly become an Adonis or a super stud. But when I pushed myself into either one of these girls you would have thought so. The madam of the house had a very successful method for training her girls. It might have been rough when it happened, but the results were superb. Even the girls liked what they’d become once they knew it meant good hetrosexual sex, that they weren’t locked into only enjoying pain. In fact, every time one of them had an orgasm with my dick inside her cunt, she’d get happier and happier with the situation.
That first time with Missy was mind blowing. She was so shy that her first time with a man would have been intimidating, in spite of the week of perfect preperation. Her pussy was open and dying for male flesh. And she knew it. But she also knew that I was not about to fuck her hard. In fact, what we were most worried about, all three of us, was whether I’d be able to fuck her at all. Knowing it was going to hurt me, she gave no thought at all about it hurting her. Which, of course, it didn’t. Missy was aware that Katlin wanted first shot but had offered up the honor feeling Missy had “suffered more and deserved first chance at happiness”. I’m quoting Katlin.
My genitals were not in the best of condition. But there was nothing much wrong with my mouth. And we’d been given no lubricant. Neither girl had ever been touched there with anything other than dildos. The bitch had never even used her fingers let alone her tongue.
I used mostly my tongue and lips. There wasn’t much I could do with my fingers that dildos hadn’t done better. The girls had never done les sex for several reasons. First and foremost they weren’t given permission. Secondly, until shortly before this they’d always had dildos in their cunts all the time. Lastly, because it never occurred to them. They could have kissed each other’s nipples and done some chest rubbing, even with the pussy and anal dildos strapped in place. But Missy certainly, even with her much used pussy, was still very shy and not comfortable sharing such intimate contact with another girl.
Eventually, only after I gave them “permission”, they experimented with female intimacy and discovered they loved each other’s bodies. But this was after they’d both declared their undying love for me, to be my “property” until the ends of the earth. They needed my ok to do what should have come naturally.
So when I licked Missy’s pussy lips she seemed, if possible, more surprised by the delight than anything else up to that point. I licked around inside feeling out her now engorged clit and inside her hole, sticking my tongue as far inside as possible. I’d wanted to lubricate her, but almost instantly she was wetting herself, more than enough for what I needed to do to her. When I again found her nub with my tongue she exploded, squirting her love juice all over my chin.
I didn’t know a girl could come so quickly. I once read that it takes about twenty minutes when it does happen. But most women have never had the training course. I wasn’t sure whether I could give Missy an orgasm with my dick. But clearly I could do it other ways and had. I could have gone right in her immediately. My penis was as hard as it was going to get, and she was obviously ready. But I knew I’d have to come quickly once I was inside her or I’d wilt before doing the deed. And four minutes of foreplay seemed too little even if it already had given her one climax.
Missy, I noticed, had assumed the spread eagle position. It made her cute little tits look delightful. I touched them, cupped them with my left palm, alternating between her mounds of heaven. With my right hand I explored between her pussy lips, wetting my fingers with her love juice. Without another climax she was still producing copious love lubricant. Not wanting to waste her efforts I ran my fingers between her legs, wiping her river of love into her fanny crack. Her anus was wide open begging for attention. I’d forgotten that she’d had an anal plug inside her almost all of the preceeding ten days. For some reason she liked my fingers even more than she had the anal plug. Missy was lying on her back. But the orgasm triggered by my fingers fucking her heinie managed to wet my chest. Being in her line of fire was become a habit for me, a pleasure that was already becoming addictive.
Later the next day Missy told us that she’d very much wanted to hold and hug me while I was giving her these orgasms and the one she had later when I ejaculated inside her. But she didn’t know a girl was allowed to do anything other than assume the “position”. How incredibly sweet and innocent she was!
When I got my erection lined up, I had to put my weight on her. She seemed incredible tiny and I huge, even though I was thirty pounds lighter than I had been a few months earlier. At least I was no longer a fat slob. In fact I wasn’t even a chubby one. My lean stomach felt good pressed against her bony pelvis. If only my genitals hadn’t suffered so much. This was what every man dreamed of, a sweet young thing underneath him, about to get it for the first time, yet somehow much more ready than any virgin could possibly be. What was so exciting was her little girl, wide eyed excitement. The difficulty of an unruptured hymen would have only made it less pleasant for both of us.
I entered Nirvana. My penis entered Nirvana. There was no pain, only bliss. Missy became even more wide eyed. The dildos might have been bigger, but this was real male flesh inside her and she absolutely loved the difference. She would have started bucking wildly, but fortunately was afraid to hurt me. So she allowed me to set the pace, much to the delight of both of us. I had one hand under her fanny, this time finding her orifice with only one finger. With my dick inside her cunt I didn’t want to apply too much pressure to her insides, of course forgetting that the two girls were accustomed to the constant presence of two large inserts.
This may not have stretched her significantly, but she loved it and rewarded my penis with another of those wonderful blasts of love juice. If anything, she became even more wide eyed. Having an orgasm with my penis inside her was apparently an order of magnitude better even. Seeing her reaction was such a turn on I knew I’d have to climax quickly. Just looking at the adoring expression on her face was going to make me come even if I didn’t move an inch inside her.
So I started stroking her hard, the most fantastic fucking I could ever remember. Maybe it was also the pain, though I wasn’t aware of my discomfort. But my orgasm was unexplainably intense. I felt myself emptying my whole insides into her vagina, and I felt again her cume blasting my penis.
Remembering the instructions I stayed inside her for a long time. In my experience women want you to stay inside them for a while. None had ever wanted me to stay as badly as Missy did. And I don’t think it had anything to do with the bitch’s instructions. I think Missy wanted to spend the rest of her life with my penis inside her, my cume even further inside her, filling her baby hole.
The next day I did it with Katlin. The decision to alternate was something the girls insisted on. But it hardly mattered. Shortly after they decided on the obvious, the voice over the speaker informed us that I would be required to “do” the girls on alternating days. I was the only one who said nothing about the issue. But even I could see that Katlin wanted it very badly and I’d be a cad to deny her her turn.
Katlin was just as delightful a little piece of ass as her younger friend. They have this definite pecking order between them, mostly enforced by Missy’s natural tendencies. Katlin’s not a natural leader except when Missy makes her assume the role. With me there, Katlin wants to be just as submissive as Missy, treating me like her beloved lord and master. Sometimes I think she’d do anything for me just to be doing something for me. I knew early on that I’d have trouble not breaking Missy’s heart. But I discovered almost as quickly that Katlin’s was just as vulnerable, just as dedicated to the one she loved, namely me.
I’d never once wanted this. The girls hadn’t gone through the usual courtship stuff. Even Katlin was very inexperienced except compared to Missy. Most of her encounters with the opposite sex were mostly in her imagination. Like girls in an arranged marriage, these two had eagerly accepted the man fate had given them. It was just a little strange that they intended to share the same man. They decided early on that they wanted me for the rest of their lives. Or at least mine. If we got out of the prison alive they could be expected to outlive me by about twenty-five years.
A funny thing was Katlin also assumed the spread eagle position for receiving my love. She knew a girl didn’t usually do it that way, and that probably I wouldn’t mind some hugging. Afterwards, when we both explained to Missy that a girl didn’t have to pretend she was in bondage when she was getting fucked, Katlin couldn’t come up with a single reason why she had copied the younger girl’s style herself. She wasn’t sure. Maybe she was just so used to sleeping that way that it felt natural. My theory was that she didn’t want to upstage her friend’s performance the first time.
But I didn’t mind taking the opportunity to admire her body. There’s not much I can say about Katlin’s physical assets that doesn’t also apply to Missy. She has devine thighs, georgeous legs that taper smoothly into one of the two sexiest fannies I’ve ever seen. Her mound of Venus is smooth, pert, sexy and lovely. Shit she’s just georgeous everywhere including her crotch! But what was really nice was the way she loved having me admire every inch of her most private parts. As I had the previous day, I spent a lot of time pleasuring Katlin with my tongue and lips, and for her it was also a new experience. She’d kissed her boyfriends and touched the bulge in their jeans. But she’d never felt her nipples exposed and admired, or her tits fondled except through her bra. She’d longed to feel a boys lips touch her bare nipples but had experienced it only in her imagination.
With a day more to recuperate I had a lot more energy for Katlin’s “seduction”. Seduction was her word for what she wanted. I approached this vision of beauty from the bottom of the bed looking up between her wide spread legs. I licked my way up the inside of her thighs, tracing a path of love up between her pussy lips, over her swollen clit, up her belly until my tongue and lips found her nipples. With another female I would not have approched her center of sex so casually. But with these girls there was no need to go slowly giving them time to get in the mood. Licking her genitals so soon was a kindness. She’d already suffered about ten days of frustation, wanting a man badly and continuously for at least the last week. There was no need to build up tension in this horny little body. In fact right from the beginning she already needed relief. Like Missy, she let loose immediately, so I had to make a pause on the way to her nipples.
As I laid there, my chest pressed into her loveliness, I could feel the wet warmth of her soft pussy smeared up against my ribs. As I kissed and sucked her nipples I could feel her gyrate, massaging me with her sex. I remembered how much Missy had loved my fingers in her fanny and discovered Katlin was just as eager to feel me inside her. My chest and Katlin’s cunt suddenly became again much wetter. The one funny thing about sex with these girls was the lack of screaming. They didn’t dare. But in a quiet way they still managed with words to convey their satisfaction. If I counted right, Missy had three orgasms before the final one we shared. Katlin probably had five. Eventually I ended up inside her, ejaculated almost as quickly as I had with Missy, then spent that delightful interval waiting for her body to swallow my cume the way her mouth would. If you wait a long time most of it seems to disappear inside the girl. The bitch hadn’t said I was supposed to get them pregnant. But the instructions made it obvious.
I should mention here the dildos. When the bitch was raping the girls against the bars she’d first removed their regular dildos before starting in on them with the long anal one and the thick vaginal one. I suppose she took the regular dildos with her when she left. We never saw them again, and the girls complained for days about feeling empty except for the few minutes every other day when I was coupling with one of them. Even then there was no “entertainment” for their fannies. Both girls were addicted to both forms of insertion. But the voice warned us to never waste my stamina on anal sex. There was to be no satisfaction for their little, cute, but horny heinies.
It became a sort of whispered joke. Katlin referred to herself as horny heinie number one. Missy was, of course, number two. In the future the two girls would call each other number one and number two and people have no idea they’re calling each other horny anal sluts.
Eventually I recovered completely. I’m only thirty-eight, so most days, I had sex with both girls. They didn’t, however, double our food rations. When Kate missed her next period, I was told to stop fucking her. Two weeks later Missy was due. Her period didn’t show up either. After that we were allowed to fuck any way the girls wanted. I’d once fucked a woman who liked anal sex. Suddenly I added two more females to that list. I would have said women, but they were only fifteen and sixteen. Katlin had had her birthday, we think, on the day we decided she was pregnant. Maybe I should call them women since they were old enough to breed and both had one of my buns in their respective ovens.
chapter 3 – There’s actually a reason, Katlin’s thoughts on getting knocked up, a marriage of convienence
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