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Christina, Slave In Training Ch. 1

By: Jigs



Chapter 1: The Motel, Stripped

The girl stood ramrod straight before her tormentor dressed only in bra and panties. Panic rose in her throat and wrote its signature across her face. He was tall and dark with a three day stubble of beard. His arms were tattooed, and the black eyes that raked her lovely body were cold and cruel. He smiled crookedly, plainly enjoying what he saw, but it was not enough. 

"Strip, I told you! All the way! What are you waiting for? Those too!" His command was sharp and threatening.

She reached behind her back with both hands, in her fright fumbling at first with the hooks on the bra. The last catch came loose suddenly, and the elastic band relaxed, releasing her lovely full breasts from the bra cups. She slipped the straps off her shoulders and shrugged. The bra fell uselessly to the floor at her feet. 

"Now the panties," he demanded. "I want to see your cunt."

The girl bent forward slightly at the waist in order to hook her thumbs under the elastic waist band. In reluctant recognition that she had no choice, she began to push the pink nylon down her hips and over her firm buttocks. As the panty top reached her thighs, her pubic hair could be seen, neatly trimmed and shaved into a V to accommodate a bikini panty with modesty. 

She stooped still further as the panties slid loosely down her legs. Fighting to hold back her panic, and at the same time struggling to keep her balance, she lifted first one leg and then the other to clear her feet as gracefully as she could of that final garment. Naked now, the girl straightened, and trying not to show her fear, she tossed the panties as nonchalantly as she could manage toward her other clothes scattered on the floor. 

The man stepped up to her, nose to nose, staring into her eyes, and breathing into her face. Each of his hands gripped a breast, his fingers squeezing and mauling tit flesh even as his thumbs closed and rubbed painfully across her nipples. She whimpered in protest but despite the hurt and terror that gripped her, her body insisted on responding to his arrogant hands. Independently, her pussy went from merely moist to wet, and those abused teats swelled with blood and grew hard under his thumbs. 

"Time for a pussy check, bitch!" he snarled at her. "Spread your legs, let's see if you're wet." 

Obediently her feet parted, and her thighs came open. His right hand released a breast and reached between her legs. The index finger began to probe her vagina for her G-spot, searching for her horny, testing her arousal. The finger, however, was not unassisted. Even as it explored inside her, the thumb of the hand on her slit was tempting the clitoris hidden at the top to peek out from under its protective folds of flesh. 

Finished with the examination of her pussy, the finger inside her curled into a cruel hook. Caught like a fish on the barb of a gaff, the naked girl had no choice but to follow along wherever that hand and its awful finger might take her. When the hand lifted slightly, and she did the only thing she could do..., she raised herself onto her toes and teetered there unsteadily, helplessly, pitifully at the mercy of this stranger who controlled her pussy.

He did not hold her suspended on her toes for long. He was only demonstrating to her how helpless she was should she have any doubt about his right to command her. His point made, he lowered the hand between her legs and returned her feet to the floor. With an exaggerated sweep of his arm, he withdrew the offending finger that had so callously probed her cunt, and raised it to his nose. Sniffing along its length for her odor, he took at least three or four deep breaths before announcing, "Yeah look at that. I thought as much. Wet as a flag in a rainstorm." 

It was true! His hand and finger bore the uncontrovertable evidence of female desire. Her pussy juices were flowing freely..., no, she was not merely flowing freely, she was even wetter than that. Despite the certainty of rape, despite the threat of pain and even death, the lubricating fluid from her sex was running in a flood that was overflowing her cunt and starting to run down her leg. 

Her tormentor said not a word as he fed the soiled finger into her mouth. He knew she would know what to do. He was right. Without protest she sucked the finger clean, and then his thumb. Finally she licked his palm and between his fingers, cleaning the whole hand of her wet. 

The sneer was all across his face as he asked, "What will it be first slut? A blow job, or would you rather take a ride on my cock? Or maybe I ought to fuck your ass just to teach you who owns you now. How would that be slut? Want your ass fucked?" 

"P-pl-please....." she stammered uncertain how she should reply, if at all. 

He ignored her uncertainty. "By the way bitch, If you're going to be my slut, I ought to know your name. What is your name bitch?" 

"Christine," she answered simply. > 

--------------------------

CAPTURED

That is how the nightmare began for Christine. 

'Nightmare', however, is not entirely an accurate description of the event. Certainly what happened to Christine in the next few days would be as serious and disturbing as it would be uncivilized, despicable and legally criminal. Certainly her world would be turned upside down in direct contradiction to the classic dreams of a recent bride..., a cottage with a white picket fence, a loving husband and children romping in the spacious yard. 

In truth, the cottage dream had never been enough for Christine. Yes, she wanted to live happily ever after in that classic way, but she had other dreams as well. Dreams that were erotic visions of herself as the love slave of a demanding master who would display her naked before strangers, on her knees begging for his cock. Dreams that were erotic visions of a masterful male who would spank her, caress her ass and force her to take his cock up that forbidden hole. What of those dreams? They too were important to Christine. Even if it should it be a crude tattooed rapist who made them real, her distress and humiliation might not be as much a 'nightmare' as at first it might appear. 

Indeed, even as she was forced to strip herself for the pleasure of a brutal stranger, Christine was on her way to discovering a side to herself that until then she had only dimly suspected even existed. The butterfly of new Christine was about to emerge from her cicada with sexual passions and desires that in a very real way would make this sudden and unexpected twist in her life as much of an epiphany as a nightmare. 

Christine, in both her new and old versions, was 25 years old, brunet, 5 foot 5 inches tall, and an exercise freak with a well toned body to prove it. Christine was married for the first time only six months ago to a man that she dearly loved (as she believes she still does, despite the recent complications). Her husband Stanley Winston is a 29 year old CPA, a well liked young man with a sharp mind. It is generally agreed that he has brilliant professional future before him as an accountant. 

Christine was, and still is, a secretary in a rival CPA firm to the one that employs Stanley. They first met on a blind date arranged by a young associate in the office where she worked who had been Stanley's classmate in college. She and Stanley found that they already shared similar tastes in music, art, movies and food. There were of course areas of interest in which they differed. Stanley, in the nature of accountants, was anything but athletic, or athletically inclined, whereas Christine was avid in her pursuit of physical fitness, and the call of the great outdoors. 

Christine was, and is, proud of her trim body, strength and stamina, and she regularly worked out in a gym to stay fit for her favorite sport of rock climbing. She chose the gym where she is a member because it is the unofficial home of the local aficionados of that sport, and offers them a wall designed as an artificial cliff on which to practice. 

Christine and her rock climbing friends from the gym regularly hike the back country on camping trips looking for steep mountain sides where they can test their skills on sheer surfaces provided by mother nature. These are outings that may last for two days to a week, and they are definitely on the 'roughing it' side. These are serious hikers/climbers/campers, not yuppies who visit the wild with an RV equipped with all the amenities of civilization. 

Stanley Winston was smitten by this pretty girl, and he was willing, even eager, to do whatever was necessary to merge his life with hers. Even before their marriage, Stanley joined Christine at her gym and set for himself the difficult and sometimes painful goal of mastering that climbing wall, hoping to some day to climb with his chosen mate as her partner on a real rock face. 

In the months following their honeymoon, Stanley worked hard in the gym and made steady progress in his strength and conditioning, and on the training wall. That progress was ultimately rewarded. Within a few months of their wedding, he was accompanying Christine on hikes into the rugged back country, and was able to tackle a few of the less demanding climbs right along with her.

On all their early outings Stanley and Christine were accompanied by veterans of the climbing club to insure the safety of the rookie climber. At last, however, Stanley qualified to accompany Christine alone on a hike, a romantic journey into the wild by just the two of them. They had camped out for two nights, hiking and climbing for three days, before they returned to Bakersville, a tiny town at the junction of two highways at the very foot of the local mountain range. 

Bakersville wasn't much town..., a handful of widely scattered houses; two gas stations; a perfectly awful greasy little restaurant; a combination grocery, hardware and feed store; and a honky-tonk bar and tavern that catered to bikers and local red neck hard cases. Also there, however, was a 1930's style motel with individual frame cabins, and it was this motel that attracted climbers and campers to Bakersville. It did not matter that the beds were lumpy, and the cabins dirty and suffering from dry rot and termites. Well located as a convenient place to begin a back country hike, and a safe place to leave their vehicles while gone, the motel was even more important as an oasis where a hot shower and clean clothes awaited tired hiker/rock climbers at the end of grueling days on the mountain. 

Christine and her husband had returned to their cabin at the end of the third day of their outing. They had enjoyed their hike, and rejuvenated by a sexy shower together, and clean clothes, the couple were hungry, even so hungry as to dare the gastric threat of a greasy meal at Bakersfield's only restaurant. As they entered they noticed a pair of very tough looking unshaven men dressed in dirty denim pants and equally dirty white T-shirts sitting in a booth by the door. "Local hillbillies," Christine thought, as she had her first look at the men who would that same evening strip and rape her.

Four awful hamburgers later washed down with cold beer, their hunger sated by quantity if not taste, the husband and wife next walked toward the garish neon tubes that emblazoned beer advertisements in ruby red across windows black with years of accumulated grime. Inside the sleazy tavern, the juke box was blaring a country/western tune, and through the gloom of tobacco smoke, the same two men that had been at the Restaurant were sitting on stools at the bar. Their cold eyes never seemed to leave this city woman who had dared to invade this rural inter-sanctum of the very meanest of local yokels. Just the sight of the two men seemed sinister to Christine, and a cold chill of premonition ran up her back..., as well it should have.

Christine and her husband each had double whiskeys with a beer chaser (about the limit to the mixing skill by a Bakersville bar tender) and the drinks on top of the beers with their hamburgers had them both feeling mellow by the time they left the little bar and started back across the highway to their motel. The two hard looking men had left the saloon some time earlier and had been forgotten by the time Stanley put the key in the door of the cabin. 

As the bolt clicked open, from out of the dark behind Christine the two men came in a rush. They were strong and had the advantage of total surprise. One went for Christine and the larger second man for her husband. Each was armed with a rope lasso that dropped expertly over each victim pinning their arms to their bodies. Almost before the struggle began, and before either Christine or Stanley could cry out for help, the men had forced themselves and their captives inside the cabin and slammed the door behind them. 

Christine was still struggling, threatening to break free of noose around her, but the bigger of the two men already had two more coils of rope around her husband, and had him well under control. "Christ Luke," the man wrestling with Christine cried out, "get that son of a bitch tied up and get over here and help me. This little whore is as strong as a mule."

Christine was strong, and she was fighting hard, or at least she was until her assailant slapped her viciously across the face. It was an openhanded blow, but came out of 'left field', a powerful haymaker that caught her squarely on the jaw. Knocked to her knees, she was momentarily stunned and helpless. It wasn't a long lapse to her fighting furor, but it was enough. Before she could resume her resistance, he had stepped over her, and straddling her back, tied her wrists together behind her with the loose end of the lasso. Christine finally accepted her struggle as hopeless, and when the dark stranger drew a tattooed arm back to strike her again, she dropped her head in surrender.

"No! Don't! Don't hit me. I give up." An armistice was indeed her only option. With the noose up around her neck where it had slipped during the struggle, and the other end of the rope binding her hands behind her, the stranger needed only a hand at the middle of the lasso rope to insure complete control over his victim. 

Christine was at his feet cowering away from him as she asked, "What is it you want? Take it and go."

"What we want, missy is a piece of that fine ass you been sashaying through our country side for the last couple of days. That's not somethin' that's real practical to just take and go. Anyway, Luke and I don't treat our sluts like that. We stick around long enough for them to get off too." The stranger leered at her, grinning to show a gold tooth in front as he pronounced sentence upon his prisoner.

Christine understood. These men intended to rape her. There was no way for her to escape her fate. Across the room Stanley lay on the floor classically hogtied, his hands roped together behind his back and strung to bound ankles that were drawn up tightly toward his hands. The important thing she decided was not to get hurt trying to avoid the inevitable. 

"All right," Christine told her tormentor, "untie me. I won't fight you. Whatever you want! Tell me, and I'll do it. Just don't hurt us. "

Behind her, the man pulled her to her feet, undid the knots that held her hands, but pointedly left the lasso noose around her neck. He was still gripping that rope up close to the slip knot, pulling it tight against her throat, when with a snarling threat in his voice, he ordered, "Strip bitch!" 

Slowly she removed her blouse, then her shoes and socks, and finally she slipped her jeans down off her legs and stood before him in only her panties and bra. Those, as we have already seen, were soon to follow, and that was when he had asked her name.

---------------------------------------

RAPED

"Christine......." she had answered him. 

In her terror her true name had just popped out. Almost instantly she wondered why hadn't she lied and told him Mary or something. For this stranger to know her name was somehow even more demeaning to her than how those black eyes surveyed her nude body, or the way he had squeezed her breasts and examined her pussy. Well, what was done was done, and she waited bare and vulnerable, resigned to what she knew was coming.

"Kiss me bitch," he commanded and with one hand on a short grip at the slip knot of the noose, and the other in her hair, he yanked her mouth to his. He tasted of chewing tobacco and cheap whiskey. His tongue forced its way between her lips engaging her own in a duel behind her teeth. 

She tried to pull away, but his grip was iron. Strangely the very violence of the way he took her, and her own helplessness, brought her horny to a boil. One of his hands was on her breast. Even though still in his pants, she could feel his prick growing hard against her belly. Forced to give him her mouth and take his tongue, Christine was horrified to find herself responding to his passion. Overtaken by an animal desire, she dueled his tongue with her own, and wiggled her hips, rubbing excitement into that impressive male shaft hidden under his clothes.

She was dizzy by the time he released her lips from his. Was it his tongue in her throat that blocked her breathing, or was her head to swimming because of something entirely hormonal? He gave her no chance to decide which might be true. Already his hands were pushing downward on the top of her shoulders. She understood what he wanted of her, and allowing her legs to buckle, she dropped to her knees before him. 

It was frightening to be in a stranger's total control like this. To Christine, however, it was also somehow entirely familiar. She had long enjoyed masturbation fantasies in which she was naked and on her knees before a demanding male, totally submissive to his every desire. Although she had never actually been forced into having sex before, in her fantasies she was regularly forced to perform for the pleasure of her dream master. There was scarcely any dirty or humiliating sex act this brute could demand of her that she had not imagined many times over. 

In her fantasy sex life however, her master was also her lover, and his control over her was as much by seduction as by force. She simply had never considered that a total stranger might compel her with pain and fear into having sex with him. Yet here she was, terrorized by just such criminal brutality without any pretense of loving seduction. This man was a rapist pure and simple. He meant to fuck her. Her consent or lack thereof was in no way relevant. 

Somewhat to Christine's surprise, however, rape made no difference to her arousal. Her immediate desire, a present craving to have a big cock inside her, was every bit as intense as in her fantasy seductions by a loving master. Rape this may be, but Christine's pussy was sopping wet and already aquiver in eager anticipation of this stranger's cock that would soon fill it.

"My shoes, bitch! Get them off." His shoes were heavy working man's brogans not easy to unlace, but even in her confusion Christine was quick to help him out of one and then the other. 

"Now the belt, bitch! Unbuckle it and drop my pants," was his next command. His belt was much easier than his shoes, and she was able to quickly open his fly and slide the dirty denims down his legs into a pile on the floor around his ankles. He wore no underwear, and in her face was eight or nine inches of penis, flaccid but beginning to harden. 

"Kiss it, bitch! Kiss it and suck the head like the whore you are."

"My god," Christine asked herself silently, "I can't possibly want to suck this bastard..., but I do. What is the matter with me. I'm being raped for Christ sake..., and yet I'm on the very edge of going into heat like some animal bitch. No! No, I won't. I refuse! I am not a mare to be bred. I am not a slut, and certainly not this bastard's slut."


Christina, Slave In Training Ch. 1



Christine fought back, shaking her head, refusing his order. His hand took a fistful of her hair and pulled her face up to his waiting cock. "You will suck me you little slut, or I'll pull your hair out by the roots." 

Once more his open hand landed across her face in a vicious slap. Before Christine could respond, a second blow followed, even harder than the first. His willingness to hurt her changed things. There is no rebuttal argument to pain.

"Please don't! Don't hit me again. I'll do it! I'll suck you, I swear," Christine cried out in pain and fear. 

Dimly she could hear her husband protesting, but he seemed so far off to her. She heard him scream. After that, he was silent. The second man, Luke, must have done something to quiet Stanley, something that hurt him badly.

A big cock was in her mouth now, stretching her lips around its giant plumb shaped glans. "Suck bitch! Suck me good or I will beat you 'til you will wish you had." Even as he spoke this mountain man stranger yanked on her hair pulling her face closer into his groin, and forcing her to swallow more of his hardening dick.

This was a scene Christine had been rehearsing for years in her masturbation fantasies. Had those truly been only fantasies, or were they urges locked in the subconscious of a latent female submissive, a tinder box waiting for a spark? Did it make any difference? She was now naked and on her knees choking on a cock that was much too big for her throat. Either way she was now in the clutches of a man who would simply take her and make her his property. Either way she was now a very real sex slave, a concubine, of a cruel and insistent master. Almost comically, however, even in this moment of recognition, a practical problem of physical limitation intervened. 

"Oh my God," thought Christine. "How will I ever..., he's not even hard yet, and he's already more than I can take. How will I ever suck anywhere near all of him?" 

Her concern, however was not one of resistance, but of desire. She wanted this cock in her mouth. She wanted to suck on it and swallow its product. She wanted it in her pussy washing her eggs with its sperm. She wanted to kiss it, cuddle it, worship it, all with a passion that expanded each time she ran her tongue over and behind the smooth ridge that ran around that big swollen head. 

Her tormentor had no intention of making his demands easy for her. Again using his grip on her hair, he jerked her head back freeing his now almost erect penis. Totally in control of the woman at his feet, he commanded, "Lick me bitch! Lick my big rod, underneath..., and my balls too. Lick my groin, all of it. Clean my crotch with your tongue."

Christine didn't mind sucking her husband's cock and frequently did so. Beyond that, however, she had always found it distasteful to lick a man's body, particularly deep in his crotch around his genitals and ass. To this man raping her mouth, however, her fears and fetishes were of no matter or consequence, and he gave her no choice. Those iron fingers entwined in her hair, and his other hand tightening the noose around her neck would see to that. It is a slave female's duty to follow her master's orders as best she can, and that is what Christine struggled to do. 

Frantically she ran her tongue down the underside of his prick, and then over and around the sack that held his balls. From his scrotum, she moved her lips deeper into his crotch and licked him along the creases where his legs joined his groin. He released her hair, and spread his legs as she moved under him to tongue bathe the shelf of flesh between his balls and ass hole. 

He wanted more. With a yank of the noose around her neck he snatched her nose and mouth deep into the crack off his ass. She understood perfectly well what service he wanted of her there, and she complied. Her tongue became a piston, probing repeatedly at his private puckered hole, sodomizing him in miniature with that tiny oral cock. 

"Rough sex!' All her life Christine had dreamed of having 'rough sex'. So many times she had stroked her pussy with her own finger to the picture in her mind of a virile male master using her for his pleasure. Always he took her arrogantly as if her body was his to do with as he pleased, and he would punish her if she did not service him properly. Now this masculine, rustic barbarian of a mountain man, like a bolt from out of the blue, was abusing her in just that way. It should not have come as a surprise to Christine that his brutality was setting her afire.

"That will do bitch! Now give me some head. Suck me off and swallow my cum like the whore you are. Suck me off you slut, or else." 

With a savage tug on her noose, he yanked Christine's head out from under his crotch. Renewing his grip in her hair he pulled her mouth to his now fully erect hard-on. She opened to the pressure of the blood filled tube ramming against her lips, and with a second jerk of her hair, he forced his erection deep into her throat.

Christine gagged and fought to breathe, but at first he was too strong for her. Gradually, however, as he lost his concentration to the erotic sensations from his groin, his grips upon the noose rope and in her hair relaxed. The warm smooth seal of her mouth and throat around his member so overwhelmed reality that for those few moments his mental image of himself was that of a giant penis, rock hard and about to cum. 

Free of his restraint, Christine was able to bob her head, allowing her lips to slide along the length of the erection filling her mouth, and even gently raking it with her teeth. Back and forth her head pistoned, and with every back stroke came a breath of air to fill her lungs. With every forward stroke came a groan from the cock's owner announcing its return to the tight throat of its fellatrix.

This was the female primeval, naked and on her knees, struggling, gasping for breath, worshipping at the altar of an erect phallus. This was the eternal female enslaved by her own passion, abused and mouth fucked at the will of the male who owned her. This was the primitive 'rough sex' that Christine has so long imagined..., and so feared that she had never dared suggest her desires to any of the lovers in her life, not even to her new husband.

This was also a blow job that would not last long. The rhythm and suction of Christine's mouth up and down that male shaft soon pumped cum up from the reservoir of his gonads. She could feel him throb against her tongue and she prepared herself for the flood she knew was not far away. This would not be a new experience for her. She had been swallowing cum since she was 16 but her life had never depended upon it before as it perhaps did now.

Partially blocked as it was with a rampant penis, her mouth filled with a salty flood more rapidly than her gullet could accommodate. Christine did her best, but a small trickle of male jism escaped at the corner of her mouth and ran down her chin. "I must look like a whore," she thought. 

"AH-AH-AGH," was all her rapist could say at first as he emptied into her mouth. Then as his sensations lessened, he was once again able to make words. "Oh you bitch, you whore, you slut, God damn you! You're sucking me dry."

"My turn Boomer!" This was Luke speaking from across the room. Christine immediately seized upon the name of who had just raped her mouth, Boomer! "What a strange name," She said to herself even as she wondered, "What now? 'Boomer' has had his blow job. What will this other bastard want of me." 

Until now, only Boomer had enjoyed the considerable charms of the naked Christine, not a division of the spoils that Luke was at all happy about. He was randy as hell from watching this woman forced to strip and service his partner's cock. He was damned impatient now to have her to serve his own prick as well. Christine was not surprised, but sex with two men at the same time was beyond her previous experience. She shuddered a little at the scandalous thought of having two men claim her as their sex toy at the same time. 

"Yeah I guess so," came the Boomer's reply. "Luke, you get your clothes off and lay down on he bed, up high by the headboard. While you get ready this sweet little mouth can suck me hard again. Between us on her hands and knees, she can give you a blow job while I dog fuck her pussy like the bitch she is."

Boomer's cock went back into her mouth, and even as she watched Luke undress out of the corner of her eye, Christine diligently sucked this now familiar penis back into an erection. "On the bed bitch," Boomer instructed, "On your knees! Get your face between Luke's legs and give him some of that same good head you gave me."

Luke took his place sitting with his back supported by the headboard and his legs spread. Seven inches of cock almost already two thirds erect sprouted from his crotch aiming its center evil eye hole at Christine. She crawled on her knees between his legs, and supporting her upper body on her elbows, she wrapped her arms under and around Luke's thighs. A true mountain gentleman, he fed his dick into her mouth with his own hand. 

Boomer was kneeling behind her as first one, then two, then three, fingers probed inside her pussy, spreading its lips, preparing her to take Boomer's big woman tamer. He did a thorough job. Minutes went by before the fingers left her, and Boomer's crotch pressed against her buttocks aligning himself with the cunt he had so carefully made ready. As wet and aroused as she was, Christine had no real fear of taking that big stick. She was, however, humiliated to be dog fucked in front of her husband while sucking a second man's cock. She cut here eyes to both sides looking for Stanley but couldn't find him. "Like a bitch," she thought. "A whore bitch with a penis in her mouth, and fucked like an animal from behind."

That was, however, what these two men demanded of her, and she had no choice but to deliver. Snug between strong male legs, Christine's head began to bob in a steady rhythm over Luke's rod. Almost immediately he threw his head back, closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and began to make little moaning sounds. Luke was a man on edge, and at that moment at least, a man with little sexual stamina. Behind her Boomer had wedged the head of his big prick between the lips of her pussy and was ready to split her open. Christine could feel him setting himself and she guess at what was coming next.

"OhmyGod," she asked for mercy in a silent prayer, "that bastard in my pussy intends to ram himself inside me all the way to his balls with a single thrust. If he does that, what might I do to this cock in my mouth? At the least I will need to scream, and Luke will surely kill me if in my excitement I bite his cock."

Safety first dictated that she pull her mouth off that partially sucked dick until Boomer was solidly in her glory hole. To keep Luke happy outside her mouth Christine slowly jacked his foreskin over the head with one hand while licking a sensitive spot she found at the root right where his cock joined with the ball sack. Distasteful as it was for her to lick a man's crotch, it was better than having her mouth dangerously full of tender penis when the brute behind her tore her pussy open with his oversized prick.

"AH-AH-AGH! Ohhh G-God h-he-lp me!" This time it was Christine's turn to scream when, as she was sure he would, Boomer bucked his hips forward with a powerful thrust. As she feared, her first sensation was of a cunt on fire. The full length of Boomer's cock rammed its way down her love chute, prying her open without pity, until its head was checked by the mouth of her womb. Behind the fire, however, came the warm pleasure of a cunt filled to the brim with male meat.

"Like a bitch," she thought. "He's taking me like a bitch," and with the thought came her first orgasm, the one that had been building in her belly since this cruel rapist had first stripped her of her panties and hooked his finger inside her cunt. Christine struggled with her humiliation, her thoughts in a termoil at having an orgasm while being raped at both ends. "Dog fucked, and mouth raped, used as if I was a slave, yet despite it all I'm cumming like an oversexed whore. I AM a bitch and a slut besides." 

"AH-AH-AGH!," she cried out once more, but this time not in shock or pain, but in celebration of her climax. Then as her mind cleared she realized that these men must not know of her passion. Instinctively she understood that a woman is doomed once a man learns that she responds to abuse. In self defense she quickly refilled her mouth with Luke's dick, and resumed the bobbing of her head in rhythm with the cock that was pounding her from the rear.

Orgasms were flowing over her with regularity now, once, twice, three, and four times. Under the stress of such arousal, even the mouthful of male meat was not sufficient to completely silence her whimpers. Her passion was simply too great to keep hidden. "Look at her Luke," Boomer called to his criminal partner, "look at the little slut get off. She likes it rough, loves it." 

Luke gave her his load to swallow even as her string of orgasms reached their peak, but following instructions, she continued to suck on his softening prick. Behind her Boomer, partially sated by his earlier blow job, held on for a time thereafter. Indeed, Christine had Luke already hard once more by the time she felt the cock inside her give up its load to the smooth tight walls of her vagina. Deep in her box she could feel his spurts, warm against the mouth of her womb.

"OOOOOhhhhhhh Yeah baby! God that feels so good. What a piece of ass you are sister." With his wad gone, Boomer pulled away from his captive leaving her cunt gaping and open, dripping his surplus seed down her thighs.

Christine had to agree. "God that did feel so good."

Boomer may have been satisfied..., Christine may have been satisfied..., but Luke was definitely still horny. Already hard once more after loosing his first load down this female slave's throat, he was ready now for something a good deal more erotic and nasty than a mere blow job. "Stay on your knees and turn around here bitch. Ever been fucked in the ass before?" he asked. 

Christine was uncertain how to answer. She had been ass fucked both by her husband and one lover before him. She had always thought her ass was sexy and her best feminine asset. It was certainly sensitive, and she loved to have a man make love to it, touching her there, using his fingers to play with her butt hole. If she was properly prepared, she sometimes she liked to be taken with a cock there, but other times the pain made being butt fucked decidedly unpleasant. She was afraid of what the hurt might be like if either of these two men fucked her ass. They both had very large cocks. 

"Y-Yes," finally came Christine's stammering admission. "But please, you're so big, you'll hurt me. Anyway I don't want to be fucked there right now. Please don't fuck me there. Please."

"I don't care what you want, or don't want, bitch, Turn your spoiled ass around here to me. On your knees, slut..., but with your head and shoulders down flat on the bed," Luke commanded poor Christine. "I'm gonna tan that sexy bottom until you beg me to fuck your ass."

Christine knew it was hopeless to argue. Somehow she had to get through this. Live out the night she told herself. Hopefully tomorrow would take care of itself. On her knees she reversed direction on the bed, then dropped her upper body down so that her ass was up in the air and vulnerable. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Luke's hand came down on her buttocks. He was a strong man, and the blows he was landing were not stinging rebukes, these were bolts of fire that quickly turned Christine's ass flesh red and raw.

"Beg me bitch! Beg me to fuck your ass." Christine gritted her teeth and tried to hold on. She gave him no answer.

WHACK! WHACK! There was still no answer, only sobbing and moans. 

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! The cruel spanking continued. Once before, Christine had been beaten like this. When she was in high school, she had an affair with a 40 year old neighbor, the father of her best friend. The man had been stern with her, demanding of his pleasure. If she disobeyed him he would taker her over his knee, pull her skirt up, take her panties down, and spank her like this. He was as close as Christine had ever come to having a truly dominant lover, and she never forgot the orgasms he gave her. It was a fond memory revisited that Luke's hand flailing on her ass brought back as plainly as if it had all been only yesterday.

WHACK! WHACK! The fire across her backside snatched Christine out of the past and back to the present. Luke cursed her and demanded, "I said for you to beg me to fuck your ass. Do it or you won't be able to sit down for a month."

The hurt in her behind was building, becoming more than she could stand. Finally her resistance broke. "No more! Please stop," Christine begged, crying now, her bottom burning from the brutal punishment. "I'll do it, only no more."

"I didn't ask you if you would do it. Of course you will do it." Beg for it. Beg me to stick my cock up your shit hole." WHACK! WHACK! The beating continued, harder than ever.

Her hurt was too much. Christine gave it all up, "Please sir, Please fuck my ass. Stick your cock up my butt..., but please be gentle with me."

"Well, be some help then. Put your hands back here bitch, and spread the cheeks of your ass for me."

First came his fingers wiping through her pussy, collecting her wet, then probing her rectum, lubricating and stretching her sphincter muscle. He was not gentle, but he was efficient, and his fingers in her hole stirred the slut in her so near the surface after the spanking. Next came the pressure of his penis pressing hard at that most private of her holes. A hard thrust and tissues at the puckered entrance gave way. Another shove and he was wedged there, inches deep, ready to slide through the breach into her bowel.

"OOOOOhhhhhhh dear God," Christine cried out while teetering between pain and erotic arousal. He was taking her ass the way she had always wanted it taken. Her ass was his and he was using it a sleeve in which to jack his penis. Her fear of pain faded as her arousal overwhelmed it. "Yes! YES!" the naked girl pleaded, no longer reluctant, "FUCK ME! FUCK MY ASS. DEAR GOD PLEASE FUCK MY ASS."

Luke sized each wrist above the hands that had been spreading her ass cheeks, and he pulled her arms to back him as if they were a pair of reins, dragging her ass onto the end of his prick. Impaled to his balls on that hard rod, and locked there by the pull on her arms, there was no way to ease the depth of that painful penetration. For that frozen moment in time, Christine belonged to Luke as she had never belonged to a man before.

"Don't move Bitch," he told her, "I'm going to fuck your ass without letting you move." The pressure on her arms relaxed just a bit, and as he hunched his hips behind her, she could feel the male pleasure wand inside her rectum begin to slide an inch or two in and out of her ass. As her tissues stretched that piston began to move farther with each thrust.

Christine gave it her best try not to move, an effort made easier as the man raping her ass continued to pull her arms tightly to him. The fire that burned in her belly could not be ignored, however. Despite the pain and stress from her abuse, she was in heat like she had never been before. To remain motionless while this man fucked her ass with such authority was impossible. She whimpered and sobbed, shaking her head from side to side, flinging her hair in a swirl around head. Every few seconds, Luke would yank on her arms, renewing the pressure that held her fully impaled. In response she would curse him and buck her ass as if she was a mare trying to loose her rider.




Christina, Slave In Training Ch. 1



Just below the cock filling her rectum, Christine's empty pussy lapsed into spasms. She ached to finger her clit for relief, but with her hands held behind her, this was an itch that she could not scratch. Ultimately, however, it would be those quivering pussy tissues that triggered the string of small orgasms that in turn brought him off and saved her sanity. 

Buried in her bowel, Luke could feel the vibrations inside his victim, and it was more than he could stand. As Christine was jolted again and again with minor shocks, Luke began to ejaculate, filling her bowel with the same flood of cum as he had filled her mouth with less than an hour before. Christine felt him jerk against her ass, and the warm sticky spurts inside her bowel set her off with the largest most soul shattering orgasm of her life. 

As their mutual wave of excitement passed, the two of them collapsed across the bed, Christine on the bottom, Luke with his prick still buried in her ass laying flush along her back, his hands squeezing her tits under her. As the minutes ticked away, the red fog gradually cleared from Christine's eyes and she was able to focus on her surroundings. Boomer was seated in a chair across the room, bare assed and slowly masturbating his big cock. On the floor, still hogtied hand and foot, but now with her panties stuffed in his mouth as a gag, was her husband, Stanley.

Boomer spoke first. "Shit, man! That was hot. I've never seen an ass fuck like that. Our little slut was really into it. You all right partner?"

"Yeah, I'm just F-I-N-E," came his answer. "You're right though, I ain't never had a ride like that before, not in any pussy, not in any ass."

"Well get up then and get dressed," Boomer urged suddenly full of energy. "The night is young. We can't keep something this good to ourselves. The boys over at the bar gotta see this bitch perform, otherwise they won't believe us when we tell 'em."

Christine's heart sank. She had been certain that she had exhausted these two, and for better or worse, her servitude for this night at least was near its end. Now it seemed that she was going to be taken to a honky-tonk saloon to face a new cast of rapists. Sure enough ten minutes later, Stanley and his wife, along with their kidnappers, were crossing the highway in front of the motel. 

Stanley's hands were tied behind him, his wife's panties remained stuffed in is mouth, but he was still full dressed as he stumbled along led at the end of a rope. Untied and ungagged, and like her husband led by a noose around her neck, Christine walked timidly behind her two kidnappers, naked in the moonlight but for her shoes. She could hear drunken laughter and the sound of country music as they neared neon lit windows of the saloon, and she wondered still lay before her his night.

* * * * * *

There will be more to the story of Christine, at least two more chapters, assuming you the readers want to find out what happens to her in that honky-tonk bar. The only way I can know is from your votes and e-mail. You wouldn't leave a bookstore without paying for your book. Don't leave here without paying with a vote. The fun in the writing is in your vote and hearing from you about what you think of the story, and where it should go from here. Many thanks, Jigs. 



Christina, Slave In Training Ch. 2



In Chapter One, Christine and her husband Stanley were on a camping trip when they were seized at their motel by a pair of local hard cases. Despite the brutal way she was raped in her mouth, pussy and ass, Christine responded to her humiliation and abuse with an intense passion and multiple orgasms. The story continues as Boomer and Luke lead their naked captive, along with her husband, across the highway to share her with their friends in a honky-tonk bar.

* * * * * 

BAKERSFIELD TAVERN

Boomer opened the door to the Bakersfield tavern, and Luke shoved their two captives inside into the smoky gloom. On their way across the street Christine had spotted a county Sheriff's car parked in front, and her eyes immediately searched the room for the officer that went with that vehicle. She found him seated at the bar. He was a big man with fleshy jowls dressed in police khakis, a big silver star on his chest, and a gun belt tucked in comfortably below the fat of his pot belly.

As they entered, Christine could also see that everyone in the room except for two waitresses were male. Those two fled almost immediately and were not seen again. All other eyes were frozen on the naked woman that Boomer was proudly leading by the rope lasso around her neck. 

"Look here guys..., look what we brought you," Boomer announced proudly. 

Christine stared hopefully into the eyes of the local lawman at the bar, but her heart soon sank. He merely grinned back at her, seemingly bemused by her predicament. Like all the other men in the room, he was leering at her nudity, as if totally unaware and unconcerned that there might be anything criminal about leading a naked woman into a sleazy bar on the end of a rope. Indeed, it appeared that this policeman might even be the ring leader of this cabal of drunks and nare-do-wells. At least he was the one who spoke up to ask about this tasty female treat that had appeared from out of nowhere into the midst of an otherwise dull alcoholic evening. 

"Nice looking heifer you have roped there Boomer, but what do she do?"

"Anything you want Sheriff, anything you want. Me and Luke has already rode her. She bucked some, and tried to spit out the bit at first, but we broke her in right."

"Well, I know you boys are real good at breaking fillies. I'm sure you did a good job with this one. Tell me, is she tight in the saddle?" 

The Sheriff stepped up to Christine and ran a hand over her ass in the way an experienced stockman might examine the hindquarter fitness of a young horse. His hand was cold from gripping a beer bottle and Christine shuddered at his touch. Then the lawman spoke again. "Stand her up on the table here and let's get a good look at her..., and by the way, who is the guy?"

"This would be her husband. He's been watching while we showed the bitch he's married to how a real man fucks. Ain't that right sister?" Boomer yanked suddenly on the rope around her neck and yelled at her, "What are you sanding there for bitch? You heard the man. Git your ass up on that table. Lock your fingers behind your head. Spread your legs and show the Sheriff what you got."

Reacting to a hard slap on her ass, Christine scrambled to lift a knee onto the circular top of the nearest table. Without anything to pull to, raising the second leg wasn't as easy. For a moment or two she hung in a split with one leg up, and the other on the floor. The Sheriff took full advantage of her precarious situation to run a finger into her exposed pussy, then lifting his arm, he half boosted, half tossed, the girl sprawling across the table top. Guffaws of laughter rang around the room.

"Do it! Stand up like I told you," Boomer yelled at her.

Christine stood, spread her legs shoulder width and locked fingers together at the back of her head in the posture of a prisoner of war. It was not enough to satisfy Boomer. 

"Spread your legs more, cunt," he ordered, "and stick those tits out. Stand over here on the edge where Sheriff Cain can reach you girl," he ordered. "Give him and the boys a proper feel of your goodies. Luke and I expect some big money for your ass, and the guys are entitled to examine the merchandise before they bid on it."

"So that's it," Christine thought. "He's going to auction me off to the highest bidder. Sell me like a slave whore." 

Often in her bath, Christine had run her finger deep into her pussy and imagined she was a captive Celtic woman brought to Rome to be sold as a slave. The mental images of herself in such distress were always quite clear. She could see herself naked and chained to a post at the front of a flesh market near the Forum. Prospective buyers were crudely inspecting her charms. When they were finished probing her cunt, feeling her tits, and counting her teeth, she was taken to the 'block' to be sold at auction. Half asleep in the warm water, Christine would frigg herself to an orgasm imagining her plight as horny males bid to own her for their pleasure. What, she had always wondered, would be the thoughts and emotions of a woman in such distress? 

Fearful, even terrified certainly! A cruel owner might hang her by her wrists and whip her for no cause other than the pleasure of hearing her screaming in pain. 

Sexy and sensual, certainly! All those virile males ogling her nude body, and lusting to have her pinned under their cocks, would be certain to trigger the teasing flirt that is natural to every female. 

Aroused and passionate, probably! Every dick of every bidder was sure to be hard under his toga, ready to fuck such a lovely pussy. How could a woman know that and not go into heat? 

This, however, was no fantasy to be enjoyed while tucked away safely in her bath. This was for real. This time Christine was actually bare assed and helpless, and these men were actually ready to bid on her exactly as they might buy a cow at the stock yards. What was it like to be a female slave for sale? Christine need puzzle over the question no more. Her answer was now at hand.

Obediently Christine stepped forward, carefully aligning her toes to the table edge from where the men on the floor could inspect the merchandise. Sheriff Cain was the first to edge his way up to the table. He reached up with a hand, casually running it up the inside of one smooth feminine leg, down the other, and then back up into her crotch. 

At her cunt, the Sheriff's hand stopped. His fingers split her labia, testing her wet, checking the tightness of her vagina. His inquiry did not end there, however. His hand may have been between her legs, but his eyes were on face, studying her response to that invading finger, and measuring he level of desire in her eyes from the flare of her nostrils. 

"Squat bitch," he commanded. "I seem to have a wet finger. Clean it!" Christine knees bent and spread as she dropped to her haunches and balanced herself before him on toes. In a squat, even on the table, her head was only slightly higher than his, and her mouth was in easy reach of his soiled hand. Her lips relaxed to take in the finger he pressed against them. 

Diligently she sucked on the digit he had given her, scrubbing its knuckles with her tongue, before returning it to its owner, still wet but now clean of her taste. Her saliva was still there when the Sheriff ran his hand over her breasts and squeezed a nipple between thumb and forefinger. The pinch sent a sharp pain to her clit and, to the poor girl's horror, almost triggered an orgasm.

"My God, No!" Christine thought. "I must not let these brutes know that I am ready to go into heat like some animal just because they are treating me like one."

Seemingly satisfied, his face as blank as the veteran poker player that he was, the Sheriff had her stand and resume 'the position' as he backed away. The next prospective bidder immediately stepped in to take his place. 

One after another these cruel men examined this delicious young female Boomer was offering for sale. Some had her squat to her haunches that they might examine her mouth and tits as the Sheriff had done. Others went further, forcing her to turn around and kneel, then reach back and spread the cheeks of her ass to display her anal charms. It was easier that way for a finger to check the puckered tightness of that third hole. 

Finally, the examination part of her humiliation was over, and the bidding was ready to begin. Boomer, acting as auctioneer called out, "Gather round boys, you wouldn't want to miss a chance to own your very own female slave. Show 'nuff, this'uns the chance of a lifetime. Luke and I would like to keep her for ourselves, but we be headed home to the mountain and she's too much baggage. Anyway our wives and the preacher man up there might not understand. Most of you are single and running free tho. A woman slave to fuck any old time you want is just what you need. The bidding will start at one hundred dollars, all cash on delivery, no credit."

"What if she runs off, or that husband of hers goes after the State Police." a voice asked from the back of the room.

Boomer was ready with an answer right on the tip of his tongue. "Those are the problems of whoever buys her. If I was her owner I'd keep her chained, and you can do with the husband as you think best. Worst case tho, Sheriff Cain can handle the State Police. Like the times before, his investigation will show the state cops she was just another tramp who found a new stud and ran off with him. Whose going to believe the husband's wild tale anyway?"

"Do I hear a $100 to own this lovely girl?" Boomer shouted at the expectant crown around the table. Christine trembled at the realization that he meant her. It was hard to accept, but these men were really ready to bid money for her as if she was a prize mare to be bought and bred. 

"One hundred," a young man up front chipped in hopefully.

"One twenty five," came a bid from the back.

"One fifty," came in quickly from somewhere off to the side.

"Two hundred fifty dollars," said a booming voice from an older portly man in overalls up front. There was a buzz in the room at the amount and the sudden jump in price.

"Three hundred," was the bid of the voice who had earlier bid one fifty. Another buzz around the room. Several men cursed, bemoaning the fact that the bidding was already beyond their available cash.

Then Sheriff Cain interrupted the bidding with his first offer. "Six hundred dollars, on behalf of the county Sheriff's Department..., and this auction is over. As a Department bid, these are county tax dollars we are talking about gentlemen. Surely nobody wants to run the price up, and cost the county money? I might take personal offense at a waste like that." The words carried a clear veiled threat that no one present missed. 

The crowd around the table parted as Sheriff Cain came forward to claim his purchase. There was not much enthusiasm for what had just gone down. The price was pretty high, but it didn't seem fair somehow. All the grumbling was under the breath, however, and there was a reluctant and muted agreement all around that Christine now belonged to the Sheriff Cain and his Department. A wad of bills thrust at Boomer sealed the deal as he and Luke skedaddled out the door.

Christine wondered what it meant that the 'department' now owned her? That this back country Wyatt Earp would soon be warming his cock in one or all of her holes, she knew that for certain. Her concern was whether she was to be handed around to all his deputies as well?

Sheriff Cain stood at the edge of the table and reached up with a hand "Come to me girl Let me help you sit down here on the edge of the table. You belong to me now. Do you understand that my pretty little bitch?"

"Yes Sir," Christine answered simply. What else could she say? 

She did as he asked, sitting on the table edge, dangling her legs over the side, her feet not quite touching the floor. Without warning, The Sheriff sent a finger exploring up her pussy. This was a repeat of his earlier examination of her hole, and it caught her by such surprise that her breath left her lungs in a sudden hitch.

"Be a good girl and do as you're told and things will be fine. Disobey me and you will be whipped. Try to run away, you will be whipped and put in chains. Neither will be very pleasant. Do you hear me? Are going to be a good bitch?"

"Yes Sir." she agreed once again, quietly and hopelessly.

Seemingly unconvinced, Sheriff Cain wiggled his wandering social finger inside her as if to test whether she was paying attention. That sudden assault on her pussy once again snatched her breath away. Christine wanted to cry out. "I'm listening! I'm listening!" but she held her tongue. 

The Sheriff yelled to the bartender, "Joe make a call to my office and tell them I want Deputy Brian Huntsinger over here right away." There were an number of grins around the room. Deputy Huntsinger was a big strapping muscular stud, a local boy well known to be endowed with the longest and thickest tongue and cock combination that anyone in the county had ever seen.

The Sheriff's attention returned to Christine as his finger continued its hunt inside her pussy. He asked her, "Your cunt hasn't been cleaned up since the Boomer and Luke fucked you has it?"

"No Sir," she admitted.

"Well I'm not much on sloppy seconds, so I think I'll start with a nice blow job. You do know how to suck a man's cock don't you bitch? 

"Yes Sir," Christine replied, in her despair accepting as fact that this man did now indeed own her, and that she must obey him as her master.

"Here," he ordered, "down off the table now and squat. Keep your knees spread. I want you to give the boys a show by jerking off with your finger while you suck my dick." Then he added menacingly, "and you had better cum before I do."

Christine dropped to her haunches, and spread her thighs to expose her pussy. "Open my fly and take my pecker out slut," was his brief order. 

With the Sheriff's limp dick in her hand, Christine could see no choice but to give her new master her very best blow job. From tip to root she licked him, using her tongue to scrub the junction of his penis with his testicles before taking his full length in her mouth. One of her hands guided him carefully down her throat while the other masturbated her pussy. The Sheriff's newly acquired slave girl had begun to earn her purchase price. 

Measured by political clout, the Sheriff may have been the big dick in town, but his actual penis was little on the small side of average. Christine had no difficulty taking all five inches or so of him down her throat until her lips gripped the very base of his prick, and her nose was buried in his pubic hair. Between her legs her social finger was furiously stroking her cunt and clit. 

"What am I doing here," she asked herself, "sucking off one man and jerking myself off to entertain a roomful of others? Is this all a bad dream, or have I really been raped and sold into slavery... More to the point, God damn it all, WHY..., WHY am I getting off on being used like this?" 

It was true, Christine was on fire. 

In the same way steam at too high a pressure escapes from a boiler, her initial orgasm exploded from her ovaries and exited in a hissing scream from around the cock that filled her mouth. That first eruption was followed by another, and then another, before sheriff Cain abruptly jerked his pecker from her lips and finished by jacking himself off in her face.

"Bring that husband of hers up here," the Sheriff ordered even before he had finished spurting his load onto the squatting Christine. Stanley was shoved through the circle of onlookers to stand before his wife and her new owner. "Pull his pants down boys," was the Sheriff's next order. "Let's see if he enjoyed the little show his wife just put on."

Eager volunteer hands opened Stanley's belt and fly, and in seconds his pants and underwear where in a pile at is feet. Standing straight out from his crotch, all blood filled, rosy, and rock hard, was the incontrovertible evidence of his reaction to his wife sucking another man's dick. His face turned a fiery red as Sheriff Cain taunted him.

"Lookie there would you! The man gets off on watching sweet little wifie suck another guy's cock while she friggs her pussy with a finger. You're a pervert son, a dirty pervert, do you know that? Here, take my handkerchief and wipe my cum off your wife's face. That's the least you can do for her ain't it? Sheriff Cain took an unused and expensive monogrammed handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Stanley who dutifully wiped the sperm off Christine's face the best he could.

He had hardly finished when the Sheriff had another idea. "Hey we can't leave hubby walking around with that thing sticking out like that now can we. He's liable to punch a hole in the wall or something with a weapon like that."

"You..., slave bitch," Sheriff Cain began as he turned to look at Christine. "By the way, What is your name slut? Here I paid six hundred dollars to own you and I don't even know your name." 

"Christine," she answered softly, for the second time tonight giving her correct name when a false one would have done just as well. Once again the humiliation that her abusers knew her real name stuck in her throat.

"Well, Christine, I want you to beat hubby off with your hand, and let him cum on you face and tits for old times sake. Its only fair. I don't expect you will see much of his cock anymore after tonight."

Christine wondered what her cruel new master meant by that? Did her servitude mean an end to her marriage? Crushed by the thought, tears were in her eyes as she took her husband's hard-on in her hand and began to pump the foreskin back and forth over the sensitive head. She had jerked him off many times before, and true to her repressed submissive nature, she had always enjoyed taking his spurts in her face. She found it no less erotic now when forced upon her. Indeed, it was perhaps even more so. As a helpless slave with no choice but to bathe in male essence, this ancient ritual of female submission was even more overwhelmingly intense than ever. 

Raped in every hole, and then sold to a cruel master, Christine's submissive nature hidden for so long had come to the fore. The humiliation of being forced to publicly masturbate her husband only fed the fire raging in her ovaries. When Stanley's ejaculation began, she opened her mouth hungry to catch what she could of his salty male sauce. Racked from tits to cunt with orgasmic spasms she lamented regretfully to herself, "If only Stanley had discovered before all this horror what a little slut I am. If only he had been the one who turned me into a sex slave."

"All right you two," Sheriff Cain ordered as the final spurts of Stanley's semen landed on his wife, "lets have a cum cleaning party. You slut, you wipe it of your face with your fingers and then lick it off. Hubby, you use your tongue on her tits."

As the cum on Christine's body disappeared either into her mouth or her husband's, a tall very muscular man in a tight but tailored Deputy Sheriff's uniform and boots was reporting to Sheriff Cain. Christine surmised quite correctly that this was the missing Deputy Huntsinger. Good looking with the olive skin, and the ink black hair and eyes, there was no hiding his Italian ancestry. This man was definitely a 'hunk'.

"Good to see you Brian," the sheriff greeted his deputy. "I just bought this little bitch for the department. Having a whore around for the boys to use will be good for morale. You and I though will be the first enjoy her. Problem is, her pussy hasn't been cleaned since that hill scum Boomer and Luke broke her in earlier tonight. You sit her back up on the edge of the table. I'll make her husband clean out her cunt and ass with his tongue. when he gets through, you can finish priming the pump. From what I hear, you are about the best pussy eater in the county. Once you have her begging for it, we'll fuck her, pussy and ass..., make a sandwich out of her."




Christina, Slave In Training Ch. 2



Deputy Huntsinger proved his muscles were real by picking Christine up like a rag doll to seat her on the edge of a table. She sat there for a moment with her legs dangling and uncertain what she was to do next before Sheriff Cain spoke to her once more. 

"Pull your knees up sister and spread 'em. Hook your heels on the table by your butt, and then lean back on your elbows so that your pussy and ass hole are shoved out front nice and pretty for us. You want to make it easy for your hubby to suck out all that dirty old cum don't you?" The grin on sheriff Cain's face was positively evil as he watched his slave girl take the exposed and humiliating position he demanded of her.

"And you, boy!" the sheriff ordered turning to Stanley. "You pull your pants up. Come over here and kneel down. Your job is to clean out what Boomer and Luke left behind in your wife's cunt and ass. Me and my deputy here are gonna have some fun with her and we don't want our dicks sloshing around in some other man's cum."

Stanley knelt on the floor between his wife's spread thighs, and leaned in toward the swollen pussy in his face. Opening his mouth as wide as it would stretch, he all but swallowed that top hole, clit and all. Christine had always loved the way her husband ate her, and with her senses already on a razor's edge, it seemed to her that his tongue was probing deeper than ever before as he searched the walls of her vagina for jism left behind by the cocks of Boomer and Luke. 

It was sooo good to be licked like that. She caught herself squeezing her hands into fists so tight that her fingernails were cutting into her palms. "God," she thought as a small orgasm racked her, "how she did need to be fucked."

"Good job boy!" Sheriff Cain was speaking again. "Good job, but get to work now on that next hole." 

Stanley could feel his wife's pussy tissues quivering under his tongue and he knew from experience she was only a nanosecond from explosion. It was with some reluctance that he snatched that release away from her, but the Sheriff was the boss and he had to be obeyed. As instructed, he switched his tongue downward to probe at that tight little opening in the crack of her ass. It was too tight really. Whatever Boomer and his pal might have left behind was simply not reachable now that the sphincter muscle had closed. 

No penetration was needed to set off Christine, however. The mere touch of a wet tongue on her anus was enough. Always, her very favorite foreplay was to have her ass hole stroked and played with. As willing as Stanley was to eat her pussy, he seldom if ever ran his tongue into or around that second hole where she wanted it so badly. Now, however, it was there, and the orgasm his tongue had left behind in her pussy quickly shifted to the lower hole. It did not stay there long. Up thru her bowels it exited into her stomach, then into her throat, and finally out her mouth in a babble, "Jesus, Oh damn, I'm cccuuumminnng! St-stop, pl-plea-zz st-stop or I-I'll d-die!

"That will do hubby. You two are having far too much fun. Get your mouth off her and go back to watching. My deputy and I will take over now" Sheriff Cain ordered. "Your turn Brian. She's pretty near ready. Get up on the table with her, stretch her out, and eat her pussy until she begs us to fuck her."

Deputy Brian knew not to dawdle when the Sheriff spoke. In a bound he landed on top of the table almost before Stanley could stand up and move away. Taking the orgasmic Christine by the shoulders, he pulled her to the center of the table and laid her out flat on her back. The poor girl was weak from cumming on her husband's tongue, and she could only moan in protest as this Italian stallion crawled between her spread legs and dropped his head into her crotch. 

This was a different tongue, perhaps even a different animal. Christine recognized that much right away. She was no stranger to cunnilingus. A friend of her fathers had first eaten her pussy when she was only 15. Licking her now, however, was a tongue wider and longer than any she had ever felt before, a tongue that felt almost as fat and as deep in her pussy as a small cock. Never had she ever been eaten like this, not even by Stanley who always made her cunt feel sooo good. 

On fire after what Stanley had done to her pussy, Christine couldn't take much more. The huge tongue of this dark and handsome policeman was driving her over the edge into a continuous orgasm that made it difficult to breathe. What was it the Sheriff had said? "...eat her pussy until she begs for it......we'll make a sandwich out of her." 

Christine knew what that meant. Together they would double fuck her..., pin her between two cocks, and hold her there until they filled both her holes with their semen. The very thought of such abuse was terrifying..., but entirely, wonderfully, erotic.

"Pl-please...," Christine began hesitantly, "Please..., I-I...,"

"Please what slut?" Sheriff Cain interrupted, "Please fuck you? Is that what you want..., to be fucked?"

"Y-yes p-please f-fuck m-me." Christine managed to reply despite the torment of that thick tongue still ravaging her pussy.

"Not near good enough slut." the lawman told her. "You can beg for it in a minute. First tell me who you belong to."

"I belong to you S-Sir. I'm your slut Sir. P-please make him st-stop licking m-my p-pussy S-s-sir. I-I c-can't stop c-cumming Sir."

"And who am I slut? What is my name?"

"I-I don't know S-sir."

"Jacob Cain, the elected Sheriff of Bakersfield County, that is who I am. Sheriff Jacob Cain, that is who owns you slut. Now beg your owner to fuck you in the ass slut."

"P-Please S-Sheriff C-Cain, f-fuck m-me in the a-ass. I want your cock in my ass," Christine managed to stammer. "P-please anything but th-this t-tongue in my p-pussy anymore." 

"Ok Brian," the Sheriff called out to his deputy, "that's enough. Get your clothes off and lay down with her. Let's see if our little bitch here will mount that big tallywhacker of yours."

Deputy Huntsinger was ready and he didn't need to be told twice. In a flash off came that tailored uniform blouse, followed close behind by his boots and pants. Christine laid where she had been, recovering her senses and grateful for the relief to her poor over stimulated pussy. 

Her first impression of this dark and handsome man's body was of muscles, weightlifter muscles, in his arms and across his broad chest. Then the pants came off and she saw IT. If this man's tongue wasn't incredible enough, his pecker was even more awesome. Already hard and fully erect, Christine thought it must be all of 11, maybe even 12 inches long and 3 full inches around..., longer and thicker that any she had ever taken inside her before.

Sheriff Cain had his pants off and was crawling up onto the table top when his deputy pulled Christine over on top of him. It felt oh so good to lay on this man with her tits crushed against his muscular chest while staring hypnotized into those jet black Mediterranean eyes. Even sexier was the male phallus that was standing straight up between her legs. Christine could feel it pressing on her sexual core from pussy slit to the crack of her ass.

"Put it in for me Darlin'," she was told. The accent was distinctly southern. Christine was surprised. She had expected to hear harsh tones from an Italian section of Brooklyn.

She wasn't at all certain that her poor pussy would stretch to take that much man meat, but Christine was in such need of a cock inside her that she was more than willing to try. She lifted her hips, and reaching back with one hand took a firm grip on the weapon she simultaneously feared and lusted for. In single a hard shove, she wedged him solidly it into her slit, then allowing her hips to slowly drop, she gradually impaled herself upon that magnificent pole. 

It was what she imagined childbirth might be like. Her cunt, however, was positively greasy with female lubrication, and in time she took all of him, all the way to his balls. In that moment of bliss, Christine decided that this penis inside her was surely the most wonderful one of her life.

Behind her she could feel Sheriff Cain probing at the crack of her ass with his decidedly less formidable spear. Despite his lesser size, perhaps for the want of lubrication, his entry into her ass was painful and difficult for Christine. The pain, however, served only as a counter point to the pleasure deputy Brian was bringing to her other hole. 

Gradually Sheriff Cain's cock squeezed its way into that tight rear channel until it reached the membrane that separated cunt from bowel. Now the two penis heads were so near to each other that they seem to be rubbing together. The sensation of dick touching dick was sensual beyond anything Christine had ever before experienced. Unable to hold back her orgasms even had she wanted to do so, the suffering girl began to cum all over again, even more violently than before. 

"Fuck me! Oh fuck me! Please don't stop! More! More! Fuck my pussy! Fuck my ass. Please...." Christine was chattering incoherently. Her husband could only shake his head in disbelief as he watched the degrading abuse of two cocks set his wife off in a way he had never seen before.

Riding high on her ass the Sheriff pumped his cock into his $600 slave girl's rectum with ever increasing ease as her anal muscles relaxed. Christine in turn rocked her hips in sync with his thrusts as she jacked her pussy along the 12 inches of male organ of the man under her. The man whose pole she was riding grabbed her by the hair and yanked her mouth down to his. The huge tongue that had so tormented her cunt he now rammed deep into her throat, even as his cum spurted into her womb. At almost the same moment, the Sheriff's cock quivered and gave up its matching load to her bowel. 

With his ejaculation over Sheriff Cain's collapsed heavily upon Christine's back. Pressed by the Sheriff's weight she lay quietly, still the female center of this sexual sandwich , and still pinned between cocks that continued to soak in the wet of her ass and pussy. Abused, publicly displayed and humiliated, and struggling for breath, yet Christine had never so completely satisfied as at that moment. It was a reaction that her husband did not fail to notice.

_________________________

THE ESCAPE

The Sheriff groaned and rolled over and off the pile of flesh on top of the table. "Ok, boys," he announced, "the first round of drinks are on me. A cheer went up and the serious drinking began. With the waitresses gone, Christine was pressed into service, delivering drinks to the tables. As she worked the crowded room, hands from everywhere stroked her naked flesh, on her legs and ass, on her tits and nipples, between her legs. Sheriff Cain was amused at her distress, and did nothing to protect her.

Stanley meanwhile helped the bartender behind the bar washing glasses, himself waiting on tables occasionally, and doing some of the drink preparation when needed. As the night wore on a few of the customers left for home but the majority stayed. Eventually, one by one, they began to pass out where they sat or stretched out is some dark corner. 

By about 3:15 in the morning, only Christine and Stanley were still on their feet. She looked questioningly at her husband. "Quaaludes." he said softly. "There were bottles and bottles of them behind the bar. I've been slipping them in the drinks for hours now. Some of these guys must have the constitutions of mules. I thought I would never knock them out."

Stanley took his wife by the arm and started to lead her out of the bar, but she protested. "This Sheriff..., he'll make trouble, probably even come after me and bring me back. I don't want to be chained and whipped."

"Trust me, Christine, dear," he replied, "You stick with your husband and you will have no problems with Sheriff Cain. In my pocket I have his monogrammed handkerchief full of his semen..., and his DNA. I have left him a note about that behind the bar. That hanky will be in my lawyer's safety deposit box. One peep out of him it goes to the lab, and the lab results go to the Governor and State police along with my affidavit of what happened here tonight."

"Thank God! I can get away after all." was all Christine could say.

The two fugitives hurried back to the motel and 10 minutes later they were already a mile out of town speeding for the county line. In their haste there had been no time for talk. With some of the pressure off, Christine turned to her husband trying to explain her orgasmic reactions to being forced to perform as a sex slave.

"Stanley, I hope you realize that I was raped. I had no choice," she began. "I didn't want to do all those dirty things with those awful men. They raped me."

"Save the bull shit, Christine," her husband interrupted. "You were raped its true. Its also true you loved every minute of it. You are a slut Christine. Abuse and rough sex turns you on..., no more that, it sends you into the heat like a dog bitch in season. When you are humiliated and forced to worship a penis, you can't get enough it. 

I should have seen what a slut you are a long time ago, but I mean to make up for it now. You're not off the hook my lovely wife. You just changed masters..., you are now not just my wife, but my slut a well. You are going to be the same slave whore that Sheriff Cain would have made of you, except that you will be my slave whore. Come to think of it tho, maybe that won't be much of an improvement. With the things I have in mind for you, you might be happier with him ."

Christine flared up angrily. "I won't do it. You can't make me. We will be in civilization. There are laws. I'll get a lawyer and divorce you."

"No Christine," Stanley told her confidently. "No, you will not divorce me. You will do exactly as I tell you. You forget that it is me who has the incriminating hanky. Give me any trouble I'll call Sheriff Cain and tell him to come and get you. He has 600 bucks invested in your ass and he doesn't strike me as a man who will let that investment go if he doesn't have to."

Christine fell silent, contemplating her options and finally deciding that she had none. What exactly did Stanley have in mind to do with her she wondered? Well, she conceded to herself, perhaps she WAS a slut who needed a master..., a master who would abuse her and force her pleasure him with her sex. It would seem so anyway from the events of this evening. She had never experienced such orgasms before in her life.

Behind the wheel of the car, Stanley smiled in the dark (perhaps leered would be a better word) as he thought of the many ways he intended to use and abuse this slave he had married. Like a child on Christmas eve, Stanley had visions dancing in his head. They were not, however, visions of sugar plumbs, but of a naked Christine, hanging by her arms from a ceiling rafter, freshly whipped, begging to be fucked.

* * * * * *

In the next Chapter, assuming you readers support this one with votes and feedback, Stanley continues Christine's training as a slave. Close to home this time though where friends and business associates can join in the fun. I apologize for being late getting this chapter up, and I'll try to do better with the next one, but sometimes the story refuses to hatch until its ready. I do best though when I hear from my readers. - Jigs



Christina, Slave In Training Ch. 3



When we left Christine in Chapter 2, her husband Stanley had snatched her away from the Bakersfield honky-tonk and the cruel sheriff Cain. As they escaped, however, he made it plain that her experience as a slave slut in training was not over. Now, however, her husband would be her master. Christine had no choice but to submit since only he possessed the incriminating evidence that would prevent the Sheriff from kidnapping her back to Bakersfield. Stanley and Christine slept away the morning, and on into the afternoon, recovering from their ordeal at Bakersfield. As we pick up our story it is early evening and Christine is kneeling before her nude husband. She too is naked but for a wide black slave collar. She holds her hands behind her back as if tied, and her chin is dropped to her chest with her eyes on her master's feet as befits a female slave. Stanley is speaking to his servile wife: 

-----------------------------------------

HOME SWEET HOME

"From now on my dear Christine, you will have rules to follow. When at home, unless we have guests, you will be nude and wearing this collar. On more public occasions, you will wear a skirt and tight blouse, jersey or T-shirt, or you may wear sun dresses, or simple shifts that leave your shoulders and arms bare. In any case, the hem of your dress or skirt will never be longer that two and a half inches above the top of your knee, and you will never wear either panties or bra. Panty hose are likewise forbidden. With hose you will wear a garter belt." 

Stanley was enjoying his pretty wife's show of submission. Despair was written across her face as she pictured herself dressed as a common street walker soliciting trade. Even as harsh and humiliating as his orders were, however, her new Master knew that being exposed as a slut excited her. He too found the the idea of publicly shaming his wife to be stimulating. His already substantial cock grew hard as he enjoyed her discomfort. She would obey him, of that he had no doubt. More than anything else, his sweet wife and her hungry pussy lusted for the firm hand and hard cock of a commanding male. 

How could he have not seen that until now? He thought himself the fool for missing her weakness for so long, but now things would be different. He had no prior experience as a dominant male, but he was quite sure he could fill sexual void in the life of his submissive wife..., and enjoy himself immensely in the process. Already he had learned to give his voice a hard tone as he laid down the law to the the lovely slave girl who groveled at his feet.

"Each morning you will suck me off while I have my coffee. Every day upon returning home from work you will strip and kneel at my feet as you are now to await my orders. When we are alone, you will keep a plastic cock in your pussy unless I order otherwise. You will use the dildo to keep your pussy wet and ready to service my cock on a moments notice. You will keep your pussy shaved, and if my tongue finds stubble there you will be spanked.

He reached down and gripping her hair he yanked her head back forcing her eyes to look into his own. "Above all, you will remember that it is my pleasure and not your own that is important. You may not cum without my permission. Except to stay wet, may not masturbate without my direction. You will not ask to be pleasured except when I direct you to beg for my cock." 

"Do you understand these rules Christine?" he asked. "Break them and depending on the seriousness of your offense you will be either spanked or hung by your arms from the ceiling and whipped."

"Yes Stanley..., er ah, Master..., Sir," came Christine's stammering reply. Yes Sir, I understand, and I will obey, but what about when I am at work? I can't dress that way there. I will look like a slut...."

Stanley interrupted angrily, "But you are a slut, Christine, that is just the point, and anyway, you will look anyway I tell you."

"But my boss..." Christine began trying to protest.

"Read my lips bitch," her husband again interrupted. He was snarling and angry as he told her, "I especially want your boss to have a good look at you. You will show him your tits and pussy at every opportunity. Unbutton to top of your blouse, let your skirt ride up on your thighs and spread for him. You've always had the hots for him. Let's see if his prick gets hard when you throw your pussy in his face and let him smell it."

It was true, she did have the hots for her boss. Always had. Rick Green was a very handsome man between 35 and 40 years old with a nice build. Rick had sexy thoughts about her too, of that she was certain. He often 'trolled the bait' in front of her, talking sex, and bragging to her about his skill in the bedroom. Teasing her, he would describe in detail the many ways he fucked his wife Genieve (who he always called Gen for short). 

Christine had good reason to suspect his claims of sexual poweress may well have been true. At the least, she could confirm that David really did have the nice long cock he boasted of because as the tales of making love to his wife became more lurid and personal, the bulge at Rick's crotch would grow to an impressive size. Nor was he the only one aroused by his sensual description of the tall and attractive Gen hung up on her husband's big cock. As her boss clearly intended, Christine's pussy would become moist as she imagined Gen on her back with her long sexy legs wrapped around Rick's waist. The picture in Christine's mind was always very clear. She could even see the muscles in Gen's legs go taut as she strained to pull his cock ever deeper into her cunt.

Christine had never told Stanley of how she had secretly lusted after Rick. Now she wondered, however. Was her husband telling her that he wanted Rick to fuck her. She was willing to do that certainly. She might even be willing to go farther. Christine had been having fantasies lately about having a lesbian encounter with another woman, and that woman had almost always been Gen.

A lesbian experience was not altogether fantasy to Christine. For their first summer vacation together, Christine and Stanley had taken a Caribbean cruise. On the ship they had become friends with a couple a few years older then themselves, Julia and her husband Jim. Julia was a striking Eurasian girl who had inherited the pronounced oriental features of her Chinese father. One evening after too many drinks at the bar the two wives had slipped away by themselves to an isolated spot on the sun deck where Julia had seduced Christine and introduced her to girl to girl sex. 

Christine had vivid and fond memories of Julia's tongue in her cunt, and how sweet another woman's pussy juice had tasted in her own mouth. The delicious orgasms they shared that night were much too dear to give up, and the two women continued their lesbian affair at every opportunity throughout the remaining week of the cruise. 

Christine's mouth watered and her pussy became equally wet at the possibility that she might wind up in bed nor only with her boss, but perhaps with his lovely wife as well. Outrageous as it seemed, she could picture herself frolicking nude on the floor with both Rick and his wife. Before her Gen lay on her back, her legs spread, her cunt swollen and open, begging Christine to eat her. Christine thought she could actually taste Gen's sex juice as she frantasized about sucking that lovely shaved slit, even as from behind Rick slid his big cock into her own pussy. 

This fantasy vision was as clear as any scene from the TV. Gen was cumming in her mouth even as Rick was filling her womb with his cum. It was a picture so erotic that Christine's concentration wandered. She was hardly listening anymore to the voice of her husband droning on and on in the real world. It is not easy to remain a demure slave girl attentive to her master with such thoughts running thru her imagination.

A return to reality came quickly, however, as the phone rang. The call was from Julia, Christine's cruise ship friend and lover. Julia said that she was divorcing Jim and he had threatened to kill her. She needed a safe place to hide while her lawyer fought her divorce case. 

Stanley was listening on the extention while Julia talked, and Christine thought she saw a peculiar expression on his face. Never the less he was quick to invite Julia to come live with them for as long as she might need sanctuary. Julia said she would arrive the next afternoon by car. Stanley promised he would be home from 3 o'clock on to help her move in. 

Christine was overjoyed to have Julia stay with them. She remembered how good the woman's tongue had felt licking her clit, and it was all she could do not to orgasm right there on the telephone. Still, things were different now that Stanley had made her his cunt slave. Christine knew that she would not be able to resist making lesbian love with Julia, and she wasn't at all sure how that would work itself out with her new Master.

Neither Christine nor her husband were ready for bed after already sleeping much of the day away. Moreover, the news of Julia coming for a visit on top of the possibility of having sex with her boss Rick, and maybe even his wife Gen, had spun Christine into a sexual high..., a high that her husband recognized and continually stroked as they watched TV. Stanley sat nude on the floor with a pillow under his butt. His legs were spread across the rug, and his back was supported by the front of his easy chair. Christine sat between his legs on the pillow's edge with her back leaning on her husband. His arms were around her and his hands played idly with her breasts, nipples, pussy slit and clit. 

They remained this way all the way thru a pair of sit-coms, an episode of NYPD Blue, then Jay Leno, and finally the beginning of the late movie. Those squeezing and titillating palms and fingers kept at Christine, toying with her, teasing her. They, and the feel of his bare cock pressing between her shoulder blades, were driving her crazy. Certainly he was aware of what he was doing to his wife. If nothing else, his finger was constantly examining the wet of her pussy. Christine was certain that he was arousing her on purpose, testing her, seeing if he could make her break the rules by asking to be fucked.

Finally she could stand it no longer. "Stanley..., Master..., Sir, please don't tease me any more. Take me to bed and fuck me"

"In which of your holes should I fuck you my pretty little slut bitch?"

"Oh Master, Please! I don't care where you take me. In my pussy! In my ass! Fuck my mouth! Anywhere! I need your cock so!"

"You know you have broken the rules my sweet, and that now I must punish you."

"Yes, and I don't care Master. Punish me if you must, but I need your cock. I will die I think without it inside me. To be beaten like a disobedient concubine will only make me hotter and want your cock that much more.

"Very well then, off to bed with you." Stanley was sweating with anticipation as he gave his instructions. "Have a dozen of my old ties beside you ready for me, then spread eagle yourself face down on the bed with two pillows under your belly. I will be along presently." 

When he arrived, that was the way he found her, sprawled submissively across their bed, arms and legs wide spread and two pillows elevating her exposed ass. With the old neckties she left for him he carefully tied off each wrist and each ankle to a corner of the bed. The last one went across her eyes leaving her as blind as she was helpless.

"Are you ready for your punishment my sweet bitch?" he asked.

"Yes Sir, I've been bad, and I should be beaten..., but please Master, I beg of you, do not hurt me too much."

It was with the ping pong paddle that he brought with him into the bedroom that he spanked the fleshy cheeks of her ass. He made her count each of the dozen swats, and demanded that she thank him thru her sobbing for each burning strike. She screamed in pain at each one, but she never forgot to count, or to thank her Master for the correction of her evil ways.

With Christine's atonement, she returned to a state of grace with her master. Paddling her had made him fully erect and iron hard. He was ready to pleasure this submissive girl who had so willingly offered him her ass to abuse. Stanley laid down on top of his bound female plaything with his chest resting heavily on her back between her shoulder blades. With every movement his hard cock rubbed along the slit of her elevated and exposed pussy. His arms reached around and under his wife to grasp a breast in each hand. He opened his fingers to allow her hard and erect nipples to slip into the gaps where he could pinch them between his knuckles. It was minor pain, but one that was so magnified by her submission that it ran thru her sensitized breasts like the thrust of a rapier. 

"Now, you may ask for it slut! Beg me to fuck you! 

"Oh yes good Master! Fuck me now. Put your cock in my pussy and fuck me or I'll surely die."

"Do I own you Christine. Are you now more than my wife? Are you now my property to do with as I choose? Do you accept me as your Master as well as your husband?"

"Oh yes, yes and yes! I do! You are my Master. I am your slave. Do with me as you wish, but please..., please dear Master fuck my pussy now."

Stanley reached into the junction of her crotch with his, where his bone of flesh had been rubbing against her hungry pussy. Expertly her hand aimed him at her swollen slit, and with a small gasp she wedged the big round prick head into her portal. That wee gasp became a cry for mercy as with a hunch of his hips he drove his long hard member home, filling her eager sopping cunt to the very brim. 

"With your pussy, Christine. Squeeze me! Bring be off with your cunt sweet bitch. Think about it. Will it to be so. With your mind, command the muscles of your cunt to work my prick. You can do it Christine. You have deep inside you the cock you begged for. Now use it." 

How she tried, struggling under the intense pressure to pleasure her master. Her effort was not without distractions, however, Even as she willed the walls of her vagina to squeeze him, her husband's hands and fingers continued to maul her breasts and pinch her nipples, and her own orgasms washed away her concentration. 

She had never been so intiment with a man. She could even feel the heartbeat that ran thru the long hard penis inside her. The pounding of that rapid pulse was the final straw that sent her into an animal heat beyond any previous experience. Beside herself with sexual tension, feeling herself taken as never before, she clinched the muscles of her abdomen in a desperate attempt to reward her master..., her lover. Tears rolled down her cheeks from the effort. Never had she wanted anything as much as this, but it was no use. He did not cum. 

As bitter as Christine's disappointment was to her, her failure to bring him off was really of little consequence to her Master. She would learn in time and he was pleased with her effort. That he had not ejaculated only gave him the excuse to tease and abuse her further, and he began to do so with a sudden retreat of his hips without warning. As the head of that iron rod slid out from between the clinging lips of her cunt, Christine protested first with a scream and then with a babble.

Oh No! Put is back! For the love of God, put it back. Please Master put it back in my pussy. Fuck my pussy or I'll die." 

The she felt the probing of the finger at her anus, opening her for...., God, he meant to take her ass. The finger left to be replaced by the pressure of a cock head seeking entrance at that puckered hole. "No, Master! Please not my ass. It will hurt Master. Fuck my pussy please. Please...."

"No Christine, you did not bring me off with your cunt. If I must do the work, I choose your ass. Beg me to fuck your ass Christine."

The poor girl could handle no more. If her master wanted to take her ass then that is what he must have. "Oh yes, Master! Fuck my ass now. I am a selfish bitch. I failed to make you cum. I have no right to have my pussy fucked. Fuck my ass! Please Sir, Fuck my ass."

A hard shove and three inches of hard penis penetrated the sphincter muscle of her rectum. The rest was a matter of unrelenting pressure as her master's hard member gradually filled her bowel. As her tissues stretched and loosened, he began to pump his hips, jacking his cock inside her anus.

"May I cum Master? Oh please let me cum Master." came Christine's pitiful plea. 

Even as she pleaded for release, One of Stanley's hands left a tit and reached for her empty pussy. One finger hooked inside her as the thumb stroked the emerging clit. He held her like that for long minutes, ignoring her pleas. Finally, after taking her to the brink, he relented. "Yes sweet bitch, you may come now. Cum for your master as he fucks your ass. CUM FOR HIM MY SLUT!" 

Master and slave girl reached their climaxes 1-2. He lay on her back, and his shrinking pecker was still inserted into her ass. Locked in their lover's embrace one hand was squeezing a breast, the other playing in her pussy, even as they both dozed off. When Stanley finally stirred it was to release his wife/slave from her ties and roll her over onto her side. He snuggled up to her from behind in order that he might hug her to his body and hold her breasts in his hands as they slept.

----------------------------------------

CHRISTINE BEGINS A NEW LIFE

Morning came, and Stanley was awakened by Christine's lips around his cock. "You have done well my sweet slut," he told her. "After I have had my coffee and morning blow job, you may shower and get ready for work. When you are dressed, come see me for my approval."

Stanley found both his wife's mouth around his dick, and his cup of coffee, to be delicious. He fixed his own toast as his wife showered and dressed in the required short skirt and tight blouse. When she presented herself for his inspection, he ran his hands under the skirt hem to verify that she was pantyless. 

"Now don't forget." he reminded her, "when you go into Rick's office, undo a couple of buttons to give him a good look at your tits. After that, find a way to let him know you aren't wearing panties."

Christine was so embarrassed by her husbands orders that she slipped into her office by the back door hoping to avoid her fellow workers as much as possible. It didn't work. She met 4 or 5 other secretaries coming out of the coffee room. Nobody said anything, not even a 'good morning' but the stares were telling. They all knew a slut on the make when they saw one. 

She was not at her desk more than 30 minutes before Rick passed by her into his office. Sitting behind her desk he could not see the full effect of her slutty costume, but he apparently saw enough. He had was in his office for not more than 5 minutes before she heard him call for her.

"Yes sir Mr. Green, is there something you wanted," Christine asked demurely.

"There certainly is Christine," Rick replied, "but first close the door and lock it." Her hands shaking nervously in her uncertainty, the she complied as a secretary should. "Now then," her boss continued, "Does your husband know you are at work dressed like a cheap whore with your tits hanging half way out?"

Christine wasn't sure what she was supposed to say to such a blunt question. She decided to fall back on the truth. "Yes Sir, he does. He told me to dress this way. He said for me to throw my pussy in your face and see what you do with it."

"Well then, I wouldn't want to disappoint him. Come over here and stand beside me you little tart. He wants to know what I will do with your pussy does he? Well, let's find out. First off tho, is it wet?"

Oh, yes Sir, my pussy is very wet," Christine admitted as she moved around the desk to stand beside her boss. It was true. To be made to explain her slutty appearance to her sexy boss had set her off and her juices were already flowing freely.




Christina, Slave In Training Ch. 3



"Let me see. Lift your skirt." There was an edge of command in Rick's voice. Christine blushed and hesitated for a moment, but then pulled her skirt up to her waist. 

"Why you little tramp!'' her examiner exclaimed, "No panties."

Christine's blush became a deeper red. "Stanley has made new rules for me to follow. I am not allowed to wear panties or a bra any more. May I drop my skirt down now?" she asked with a pleading tone.

"No you may not!" was the quick answer. "Your husband wanted me to see your pussy. So hold up your skirt and let me look. Does it embarrass you to show me your pussy Christine? 

Christine nodded. It was not enough for her boss. "Tell me bitch! I want to hear you say it! Are you ashamed that I am looking at your hole?"

"Yes, I am ashamed." she answered simply. There seemed to her nothing else she could say. 

"But it makes you hot, doesn't it."

"Yes," she answered, her blush getting deeper.

"How hot? Hot enough to want to be fucked?"

"Yes, that hot."

"Come one, Christine, say it. How hot"

"So hot I want to be fucked," the poor girl finally admitted.

"Why do you think your husband wanted me to see your pussy," Rick asked. "Do you supposed he wanted me to play with it too; and you, what do you want? What about it Christine, do YOU want me to put a finger in your cunt and frig you? Are you that much of a slut?"

Christine's lip was beginning to quiver a just a bit, and a tear was forming in the corner of her eye. Confused and humiliated, she none the less very much did want his finger in on her pussy. She was, however, afraid to say so. Stanley hadn't explained what she was suppose to do if Rick took up his challenge. "What ever you say Mr. Green," was the only reply she dared to give.

Her boss, however, refused to let the poor girl off the hook. "No, No, Christine, that's a cop out. I want an answer..., are you a horny slut who wants me to frig your cunt?" 

Christine could control her need no longer. "Yes please, Mr. Green. Frig my cunt. I am a horny slut. Put a finger in me and jack me off, please. I'm oh so wet, and I need to cum."

"Maybe in a minute." Rick replied vaguely. First take your skirt off and open your blouse. I have always admired your tits Christine even tho I have never been so fortunate as to see them in the flesh. Now, however, it seems my time has come. Show me your breasts. Offer them to my hands the way a slut should."

Christine dropped her skirt, loosened her belt, and hooking her thumbs in the waist band, pushed the garment to the floor around her feet. The remaining three buttons of the blouse quickly came unfastened, releasing her tits from their only cover. Nor did she forget his final command. Now naked except for hose, garter belt and shoes, she cupped her hands under her exposed breasts, and offered them to him in submissive sacrifice. 

He reached forward to squeeze the tempting female flesh, then between each thumb and forefinger he rolled a nipple teasing those erect nubs with exquisite pain. "Spread your legs Missy. You do still want that finger in your cunt don't you?"

Oh Jesus yes! But, please, no more. Please don't tease me any more. Put your finger inside me please. I'm so hot. If you don't fuck me, at least bring be off with your finger." Christine was sobbing now.

Still fondling one breast, Rick cupped her sex with his free hand. The middle finger slipped between the swollen lips, and its tip curled upward, hooking the tortured woman, reminding her that she was his captive. Slowly at first and then faster, that slim finger raked the walls of her wet and sensitized vagina searching for the 'G-spot.' Once fully inside her to the third knuckle, he used the opposing thumb to scrub across the clitoris that was beginning to peek from under its fleshy cover.

Christine closed her eyes, threw her head back, and clinching her fists at her side, she gave herself up to the pleasure that was racking her body from tits to clit. Rick leaned forward in his chair to take between his teeth the tender nipple that had been left unattended when his hand had reached for her sex. Christine guessed what was coming and gritted her teeth in preparation. 

It was no use. In the same instant as that probing finger found the exact trigger inside her pussy, his cruel teeth bit into her nipple. Her knees buckled as the hurt from that tortured teat mingled with the climax that was an expanding knot inside her belly.

"AGHHHA, O-OH OHMYGOD! That is sooo goood, Mr. Green, Oh thank you Sir."

"And how does as slut thank the man who brings her off, Christine?" Rick asked blankly pretending a question where none really existed.

"She sucks his cock for him?" Christine blurted immediately, yet in her panic to please him, unsure of her answer. " Oh yes, Mr. Green let me take you in my mouth. I want to suck you off and swallow your cum."

"On your knees between my legs, bitch," Rick ordered as he swung his office chair around to make his crotch available. "Take it out for me, and let me feel some tit flesh around it before you start to suck."

Christine dropped to her knees and opening his fly, extracted the cock that was every bit as big and fat as she expected it to be. The excitement of playing with her tits and pussy already had him fully erect . Snuggling close to him with her arms over his thighs she laid his rod in her cleavage where her hands could pinch her pert jugs around him. By raising and lowering her shoulders a few inches she was able to jack his penis up and down between her breasts.

She dropped her head, and with tongue fully extended she could barely lick the very tip of the prick head that protruded upward from the vice of her tits. That would not do. She needed more. She needed to taste him. She needed to fill her mouth with male meat. She needed to feel with her lips the smooth penis skin sliding up and down over his hardness. Crawling backward a foot or two she freed her arms from over his legs. Dropping her hands to the floor, she crawled forward again into the frame between his knees where her mouth reached for its prize and swallowed it. 

The taste of his pre-cum was delicious. Frantic for more of his creamy male seed, she went down on him, stuffing her throat with every down stroke, and raking his full length with lips and teeth with every up stroke. With every bob of her head her bare breasts that hung from her open blouse swayed enticingly. Rick too was seized by the eroticism of an almost naked woman on her hands and knees between his thighs. His hand tangled in her hair and shoved her head even farther down on upon the alter of his rampant prick.

"Eat me bitch, make me cum in your mouth. Swallow my load damn you."

No man could last long under such an enthusiastic assault, and within minutes Rick was filling Christine's throat with his salty load. "That's right you little bitch! Swallow me, swallow it all," he hissed at her in a strained half whisper. 
 When he was finished, Rick looked at his little slut of a secretary and told her, "All right girl, go to the ladies room and straighten up, and button that blouse all the way this time. This afternoon at quitting time come back in here and strip to garter belt and hose. I'll be waiting for you to sit down on my cock."

There was a sneer on Rick's face as he continued, "Your husband sent me your pussy to see what I would do with it did he? Well, you call and tell him I'm going to fuck his slut wife until she can't stand up. Tell him that's what I'm going to do the pussy he wanted thrown in my face."

As soon as she returned to her desk for the ladies room, Christine did call her husband at his office to tell him of her adventure. "Oh Stanley, it was so embarrassing. Rick made me hold up my skirt and show him my pussy, and then I had to take it off, and open my blouse so he could feel my tits and pussy. After he played with my tits and nipples for a while, he finger fucked me to an orgasm. Then honey he wanted a blow job"

"Did you give him one," her husband asked.

"Of course. What else could I do, but that's not the worst of it. I am to report back to him at closing time to strip and sit down on his cock. He said to tell you he his going to fuck me until I can't stand up."

"Why you little whore," Stanley exclaimed. "It wasn't only on his finger that you climaxed, was it. You got off on sucking him too didn't you? Now You WANT him to fuck you, don't you? I'll bet you can hardly able to wait for him to stick you with his big cock. Isn't that true, Christine? You're wet already aren't you?"

"Yes sir," she answered simply. "Its true. I did. I got off just sucking it. It's also true, I'm very wet, and do want him to fuck me. He has such a nice cock, and Its going to feel sooo good in my cunny. But its not my fault I'm acting the slut. You had me dress like a street walker. You told me to throw my pussy in his face. What else could I have done?"

"Listen to me, Christine," Stanley was snarling into the phone, "only a slut would have sucked him off like that and enjoyed it. Let him fuck you at 5 this afternoon. When he is finished with you go to the ladies room and stuff yourself with toilet paper so that his cum doesn't leak out on the way home. I'm going to meet Julia at 3 and let her in the house. We will be waiting for you here." With those instructions he hung up.

It was 5:01 in the afternoon when Christine again entered her bosses' office and locked the door behind her. Rick was siting in his chair behind his desk. His pants and shorts were down around his ankles and in his hand he was slowly jacking 8 inches of hard-on. Christine quickly unbuttoned her blouse and shook it from her shoulders. The skirt hit the floor right behind the blouse.

"Come here slut. I have something for you. Sit that hungry pussy of yours right down over this thing."

Christine walked to his side of the desk, her tits juggling slightly as she moved. She stood in front of him for a moment letting him enjoy her nude body, then turned around and backed up to straddle his thighs. Her hand reached between her legs for the pole that would impale her, and with a push she set it solidly between her pussy lips. His arms reached around her to take a breast in each hand, and as he squeezed, he spread his fingers to capture the erect nipples.

Slowly Christine slid her cunt downward over Rick's male meat, taking him inside her half inch by half inch. She had been on fire ever since he had finger frigged her to an orgasm this morning, and wet as she was, she took even that sizable member with remarkable ease. She bit her lip as he filled her, lost in the sensations that raced from her stretched cunt to the pleasure centers of her brain.

"Oh God! Oh God!" was the best she could vocalize the warm and benign cramps that gripped her sex.

Rick was scarcely any more eloquent. "Yes, Yesss, Babbby! Yesss! Damn, but you do feel so good on it!

Finally she was all the way down, in her to his balls. His hands were still filled with her tits as he pulled her body back against him. "Rock your ass slut," he instructed, demanding that she slide her vagina sleeve up and down over his cock. One hand left its tit and nipple to hug her high around her waist and with it he lifted her an inch or two that her hips might move and jack at his cock. 

By he time Christine felt the hard-on inside her begin to pulse and spurt, all the colors of the rainbow were flashing before her eyes. Her orgasm came singularly but it was huge in size and totally satisfying in intensity. As the two of them finished, Rick straightened his knees and let her slide forward down his legs into a heap on the floor. 

"Clean me slut," was Rick's only command. Christine was willing. She rolled around on a hip and scooted forward to take his spent cock into her mouth where she scrubbed it with her tongue. Above her she heard Rick's calm instructions. "When you get home, be sure and tell Stanley how you came on my cock, and how good it felt filling your cunt. Tell him old Rick knows what to do with a pussy thrown in his face. Go on home now bitch and tell him he married a slut."

Christine gathered her blouse and skirt from where she had dropped them on the floor and slipped off down the hall to the ladies room still in the nude. She felt certain that with the offices all closed for the night no one would see her. It didn't matter if they did she thought. Being seen naked was nothing compared to the slutty way she had acted today. 

Before she redressed she was careful to plug her cunt with toilet paper just as Stanley had demanded of her. Whatever this was about, when she arrived home, much of Rick's load would still be inside her. What use , she wondered, did her husband have in mind for her cunt filled with another man's jism. 

It was well after 6 by the time Christine opened her front door. She had been practicing what she was to tell her husband about having Rick's cock cum in her cunt. He would know that already of course, but should she admit how much pleasure Rick had given her? Should she admit the way she had orgasmed with him inside her? When she opened the front door, however, the scene before her was so unexpected and outrageous that everything else disappeared from her mind.

There in the foyer at the foot of the stairs was Julia, seated on the second step of the stairway that led to the second floor. She was weeping uncontrollably and struggling against the ropes that held her helplessly spread eagled across the stairway. Each arm was stretched out at right angles from her body and tied tightly at the wrist to a baluster. Her legs were extended and spread, pulled into a split by ropes that pulled her ankles to the bottom of the first newel of the staircase. But for a broad leather slave collar and leash, she was as naked as the day she was born. 

Sitting on a stool in front of the bound and sobbing woman was Stanley with a buggy whip in his hand. The marks on Julia's thighs and breasts were conclusive evidence that the whip had indeed been used, and used generously, on the helpless woman. 

Julia cried out to Christine, half screaming in indignation, and half sobbing in terror, "Please help me Christine. This lunatic husband of yours has raped me, and now he is torturing me. Make him stop. Turn me loose. Call the police. For God's sake, do something. " 

Poor Christine was confused. She had no idea was going on here? Had her husband and master gone crazy? Why would he do this to Julia? What should she do? Was there anything she could do?

-----------------------------------------------

Tune in next time to find out what happens to poor Julia. The only price of admission to the further adventures of Christine is to VOTE (and if the spirit should move you, by all means feedback or an e-mail would be nice). Above all else tho VOTE, big number or little number, but damn it VOTE. Many thanks from Jigs. 



Christina, Slave In Training Ch. 4



When we last left our heroine Christine, her boss had just finished fucking her in his office. For the benefit of those whose memories may be a bit fuzzy because of the author's procrastination, Chapter 4 begins with a flashback to the end of Chapter 3. (O.K., I know its hokey, but it worked in those Charlie Chan serials that went along with the double feature cowboy 'shoot 'em ups' I once went to see every Saturday at the old 'Queen' movie house).

* * * * *

Before dressing, Christine was careful to plug her cunt with toilet paper. Why had Stanley been so insistent that she keep Rick's load dammed up inside her? He had some devilish scheme to humiliate her no doubt. Christine had to admit though that Stanley's little games could be terribly erotic. She almost always got off on them. 

It was well after 6 by the time Christine opened her front door. All the way home she mulled over what she was going to say. Just how does a girl tell her husband she has just fucked another man, and still has his load of cum in her cunt? He would know that already of course. After all, she had only done what he had demanded of her, but the devil was in the details. Should she tell him how much she had enjoyed riding Rick's cock? Should she admit how her orgasms had come, not just one, or once, but in bunches over and over? 

She was still debating the level of her confession when she opened the front door. What she saw sent her problems onto the shelf to be dealt with later. There was Julia, stripped naked and on her back, bound and spread eagled upwards across the low end of the foyer staircase. Her body, ass, and legs were draped over the front edge of the individual steps. Her legs were spread, and tied at the ankles to the end newel of the bottom banister. Each arm was stretched out at right angles, and tied tightly at the wrist to a baluster. Stan was sitting on a stool in front of the bound and sobbing woman with a buggy whip in his hand. 

Julia cried out to Christine, half screaming in indignation, and half sobbing in pain and terror, "Please! Please, help me Christine. This lunatic husband of yours has raped me, and now he is torturing me! Make him stop! Call the police! Get help! For God's sake, do something." 

What was going on? Had her husband and master indeed gone crazy? What should Christine do? What COULD she do?

It seemed certain enough that Stanley was abusing her friend. Marks across those lovely breasts and the insides of her spread thighs showed where the business end of that whip had bitten into flesh. Tears were running down Julia's face. A closer look revealed a dildo buried in the feminine core between those spread legs, and from around its edges a white male seed was leaking. She had been recently fucked, no doubt about it. 

The whip flicked out once more and landed high on an exposed thigh. Julia screamed. 

"Shut up bitch!" Stan demanded of his captive. "I'm tired of hearing you whine. Let's tell the truth now, Julia. You see, Christine, this bitch arrived by cab at 3 o'clock. At 4:45 she comes bouncing out of the shower all wet and randy, showing me her tits and pussy, putting the make on me. Yeah, I fucked her, fucked her good, but it was a long way from rape, and I have a tape to prove it. If this bitch doesn't straighten up pretty quick I'm going to make her husband's divorce lawyer a present of the sounds of sweet Julia getting dicked where she likes it best.

Julia went white. "You wouldn't you bastard," she sputtered.

"I will if you don't shut the fuck up," Stanley snarled at his victim. "I saw you and my wife last summer licking each other's pussies on that cruise ship. You lez bitch! You thought you could come here and wait out your divorce and alimony award while Christine licked your cunt. My cock would be icing on the cake. What you didn't know was that there is a new order of things around here. Christine is not just my wife, now she's my sex slave, my concubine, my harem girl. You don't get into her pants anymore without my permission."

Then turning to his wife, Stanley asked, "Isn't that right Christine?" 

When the only response was a puzzled nod, his tone grew angry and he demanded, "Lift up your dress Christine. Show your lezzie friend the pussy she came here so hungry to eat." Christine wanted no part of that buggy whip he was waving at her menacingly. She was quick to do as he asked. She lifted the hem of her dress above her waist exposing her sex. Stuffed into the slit below a neatly trimmed bush was a white smear of toilet paper.

Stanley popped the tip of his whip on one of Julia's breasts and then asked her, "See that paper sticking out of her cunt? What do you think that's for? Don't know? Well I'll tell you. Her boss fucked her not more than an hour ago, and the paper is holding in his cum. You want to suck my wife's pussy do you? I hope so because I'm going to let you do just that. In fact, I insist upon it. While you're about it, be sure you clean Rick Green's nice fresh wad out of her."

Stanley turned back to his wife who was still dutifully holding up the hem of her dress, but shaking her head in disbelief. "You don't believe I raped this lying bitch do you Christine?" he asked. "Well, if you do, get an ear full of this." 

He held up a small dictating recorder in his hand and flicked to 'play.' Julia's voice was clear as a bell. "Oh god ye-essss Stan, fuck me. Fuck me please. Oh you're so deep. You f-feel so g-good. O Stanley, I'm cumming. I'm CUMMING!"

"Does that sound like rape to you, Christine?" Stanley's grin was positively evil.

Julia let out the wail of an animal in pain. "Please, for the love of God Stan! Don't give that to my husband. It will ruin everything. I'll be out on the street with nothing."

"Sure Julia," Stanley answered, "I don't owe your husband anything, but there will be a price."

"Anything! Anything! I'll pay you. How much?"

"No Julia, you misunderstand. I don't want your money. I want…YOU! You, every bit of you, mind, body, and soul! I want to own you, as in slave... my sex slave. I want you to come to me crawling naked on your hands and knees, begging for my cock. I want you to offer me your tits, your mouth, your pussy, and your ass… and then beg me to take them for my pleasure. My price is your body…YOU Julia!"

"No, no! I won't do it. I fuck whom I want. I won't be anybody's slave," Julia's voice was strong in her refusal.

Stanley flicked her exposed pussy with the tip of his buggy whip, earning a scream of pain from Julia. "Ah but you will my little whore. You will because you have no choice. You have it exactly right. If I send this tape to your husband's lawyer, the shit hits the fan. You will be out on the street renting your cunt by the hour. Think about it Julia, and THEN tell me your ass doesn't belong to me."

Julia was sobbing hysterically now. Whether is was from the pain of that whip on her pussy, or from the choice Stanley was demanding of her, Christine could not tell. Finally the tormented woman gathered herself, and speaking thru choking sobs she gave in. 

"All right! I'll do it! Slavery is better than being broke. You own me, you bastard. I'll be your God damned slave."

"Good! I thought you would," Stanley was gloating now as he accepted the surrender he knew was inevitable all along. Then turning to Christine he ordered, "Strip slut, and get on top of Julia. Lock your legs behind her head so you can put your face between her legs without sliding down hill."

"Julia," he said turning back to the bound woman on the steps, "I want you to chew that toilet paper out of her cunt with your lips and teeth. Catch what leaks out in your mouth, then suck out and swallow whatever is left of Rick Green's scum. While you are emptying Christine's hole, she will clean your pussy of the gift I left behind in you. You two lezzies like to lick each other's cunts so much… well, get to it and enjoy yourselves." 

Christine took one look at her husband's stern and angry face and began to peel off her dress. Four steps up the stair, she mounted her friend's pretty face. "This was going to be messy," Julia thought, but she didn't hesitate to begin chewing on the paper plug that was holding back a flood of male semen. She had little choice, and after all, under different circumstances she would have enjoyed eating Christine's pussy. 

Christine was more reluctant, and for a long moment or two, she sat upright and motionless on Julia's probing tongue. Under her she felt Julia's mouth at work as the paper plug loosened, and then give way. The seal broken, the heavy wad of Rick Green's cum leaked into Julia's mouth. Julia swallowed, and her talented tongue began to scrub away what was left of Rick Green's semen. A low whimper escaped from Christine's throat certifying Julia's pussy eating skills. 

"Now Christine!" her husband commanded. "Her cunt, Christine, suck her cunt!" 

By now, Christine was on fire, willing and ready. She was her husband's sex toy. His word was law, but how to do as he commanded? Julia lay at a steep angle on the stairway, and Christine wanted to be sure that as she lowered her head into Julia's crotch, her own pussy would remain anchored on Julia's mouth and that delicious tongue. 

Fortunately there was a way to defeat gravity. By hooking her calves behind Julia's head Christine could lock her sex firmly over Julia's face. With that hold she could brace her arms and hands on a lower step as she hung over her friend's open thighs. Before going down on that open and waiting pussy, however, Christine raised her head to search her husband's face, curious about his reaction to his wife about to eat a woman's pussy. She found his eyes frozen intently upon her, and across his lips an evil half smile spoke volumes. 

"He is enjoying this," Christine thought full of resentment and humiliation. "The bastard is getting his kicks making me do this while he watches. Look at him. He is almost salivating he is so close to getting his rocks off at degrading me."

"Do it." Stanley commanded his wife. "Take out the dildo and eat her Christine. Taste her. Taste me. Clean her. Fuck her with your tongue."

Whether motivated by her husband's demands, or Julia's warm mouth and gentle tongue, Christine was ready and willing to begin. Her arms slowly gave way at the elbows easing her breasts downward to cover the soft smooth female belly that was thrusting upward to meet her chest. She pulled away the dildo that plugged Julia's freshly fucked pussy, and replaced it with a live finger that probed the waiting hole under her chin. It was a vagina already stretched and sensitive from its recent union with Stan's penis, and the dildo that had filled it since. 

Behind her, Christine heard Julia catch her breath in surprise, and then a muffled whimper of protest... or was it only a desperate signal for more? Whichever, more was on its way. Even as her finger searched for the G-spot in the walls of Julia's pussy, Christine ran her tongue across the soft inside of Julia's lovely thighs. Moments later, her mouth pressed hard at the very top of Julia's feminine slit. With a flicking, teasing tongue Christine pealed back the folds of female flesh that guarded the clit hidden there. The little nub responded, peeking out from its cover tentatively as if seeking the who, and the why, of its awakening. 

With Julia's pussy button on its way to erection, Christine's tongue replaced her probing finger and began a gentle, almost tentative, stroking between labia swollen with blood and need. Wet with juice and cum, the pouting lips of Julia's cunt tasted of raw, unsalted, uncut sex, both male and female. Momentarily distracted, Christine reflected on that distinctive pungent flavor. 

"How often since her hiking trip to Bakersfield had this sweet but acid bite of sex been on her tongue? Ruefully she realized she had lost count. What a little whore she had become."

Julia's hips churned her cunt into Christine's face, demanding more mouth and tongue. Stanley's taste was fast disappearing from Julia's slit, only to be replaced by a flood of female wet that spilled out onto the carpet of the stair step. Julia attempted to speak, trying to tell everyone of the spasm of her pussy and the cramp in her belly, but Christine's pussy muffled her words. Christine in turn was pressing her own pussy hard against Julia's mouth, and her thighs were clamped tight around her female lover's ears. Christine's climax followed quickly behind Julia's, and it came in multiple waves. 

As her orgasms subsided, Christine raised her head and cursed at her husband. Since they had returned from Bakersfield he had been such a bastard, humiliating her at every turn. Christine had to admit, however, her husband's cruel little games were certainly erotic, and she most surely did get off on them. 

"All right you two, that's enough. Time to feed your master," Stanley announced as he released Julia from her bondage on the staircase. "After we eat, we are going to have a couple of guests drop in."

Around his wife's pretty neck Stanley buckled a broad black dog collar that matched the one already worn by Julia. To each collar he clipped a leather leash, and with a rein in each hand he led his two concubines into the kitchen for a meal of scrambled eggs, bacon and toast. Naked, silent, and subservient, their leashes hanging down between their breasts, the women prepared the food for themselves and their master. Kneeling on the floor beside his chair, the two slaves fed both their master and themselves. His own hands were otherwise occupied playing with the tits and pussies that were his property. 

Finished with their meal Stanley showered with the help of his suburban harem. One naked woman knelt at his feet to soap, rinse, and suck, his cock and balls. A second stood behind him scrubbing his back to a tingle, then rubbing herself against him, soothing him with the soft touch of her breasts and nipples. No Middle Eastern Sultan attended by concubine slaves from his seraglio ever had a more sensuous bath, or enjoyed one more. He had Christine shave him, and Julia to brush his teeth, and dress him only in his jockey shorts. He said the guests he was expecting knew that things would be 'casual'.

Just how casual the two girls were soon to learn. Slave collars and leashes only was all Stanley allowed them. Christine was horrified and humiliated. This bastard husband of hers was going to parade her before some unknown guests naked, and on the end of a leash. 

"Are these people we know?" she asked him. 

"Oh yes," he answered. "You know them quite well."

"No Stan," she protested, "You can't put me on display bare ass naked in front of friends. I will never be able to look them in the eye again."

Stanley grinned. "Don't worry my pet, they know what to expect, and I daresay they are looking forward to it. Anyway, you shouldn't be embarrassed. After tonight, you will know them so much more intimately." 

Christine was pondering just what he meant by that when the doorbell rang. "Answer the door Christine. Greet our guests, and invite them in." Stanley was enjoying his wife's discomfort so much that he could hardly keep from laughing at her out loud. 

"No, Please! Please Stanley! Please don't make me do this."

"You forget yourself Christine," Stanley said frowning. You forget what you are now. You are not just my wife anymore. You are now my slave woman. You will do what you are told…or would you rather have a taste of the whip?" 

Christine could see that there was nothing she could say that would do any good. Blushing she went to answer the doorbell, her leash bouncing between her breasts with every step. She swung open the door. "Damn! This was going to be even worse than she thought." There in the doorway was Stephen Carter and his girlfriend, Vanessa Church.

Stephen was a member of the same rock climbing club as Christine, and they worked out at the same gym, often together. Stephen was a stud, big, very strong, and very much a narcissist who never wore anything but T-shirts too small for his broad chest. Despite his overwhelming ego, Christine had always found Stephen sexy and interesting. Her attraction was more of an unresolved school girl crush than anything serious, but the big bulge in his crotch always left a tingle in her pussy. She would choose him as a climbing partner whenever she could, and when she masturbated she would fantasize that it was Stephen who was fucking her.

Vanessa was something else again. She had been Stephen's girlfriend even back in high school, and she was a jealous bitch. She didn't like it one bit when Christine would come smelling around 'her' man. She hated Christine, and the feeling was quite mutual. "Now," Christine thought, "thanks to my God damned husband, I am being shamed not only before Stephen, but that bitch Vanessa as well. "It was true! Vanessa was gloating at the way Christine was being made to parade naked wearing a dog collar in front of Stephen. The bad blood between Christine and Vanessa was not likely to be improved by this evening. 

"Come in, Stephen, I...I…I…I know how this looks, but…but…" Christine began to stammer. She would like to have explained, but in her embarrassment she was grateful when Stanley interrupted. 

"Sure! Come on in, Stephen, Vanessa!" Stanley welcomed his guests. "Christine is afraid it is a social faux pas that she is not properly dressed, but hell, why stand on ceremony between friends. As I'm sure you know Stephen, she has had the hots for you and your muscles for a long time now. Mostly though, she has been interested in that muscle between your legs. She is ashamed to be naked in front you, but she was going to be later anyway. Surely she wouldn't expect you to fuck her with your clothes on." Stanley was grinning smugly at his little joke.

Stephen didn't know quite what to say. He blushed a little and shifted his feet. For all his ego and reputation as a cocksman, he had never been in a situation quite like this before, and he was damned uneasy about it. 

Vanessa on the other hand was grinning from ear to ear. It apparently didn't bother her a bit when Stan announced that her boyfriend was going to fuck another woman. That puzzled Christine. What was going on here that she didn't know about?

Stanley smiled back at Vanessa warmly as he explained what he had in mind. "I mean to take good care of you too Vanessa. What about it? I know that the two of you don't like each other very much. Would you like to have my stuck-up wife as your slave for the evening? Would that compensate for her using your boyfriend's cock? Of course it would, especially if you kicked off our evening by going first. Well, she's all yours Vanessa! What would you like Christine to do for you?"

Vanessa had been waiting a long time for a chance like this. She didn't need to think it over. "I want the bitch on her knees eating my pussy," was the almost instant answer. "You cuff her hands behind her back for me, and I'll sit right here on the couch with my legs spread. I'll pull my dress up and she can crawl between my knees and go down on me." 

"Sounds like a plan to me," Stan said as he pulled a pair of handcuffs from the canvas bag by his chair. He yanked Christine's arms behind her back and snapped the cuffs closed around her wrists. Vanessa pulled her dress up to her waist, then took her seat with her knees spread. Her panties were a lime green and had a noticeable dark wet spot in the crotch. 

"Come on Christine," Vanessa taunted her female toy. "Stephen has been playing with my tits and pussy all evening, and I have been so wet. I must be especially tasty down there." Vanessa was openly mocking her victim as she continued. "Poor, poor, Christine, she doesn't have any hands to help her get my panties out of the way. Too Bad! I guess poor Christine will just have to chew the crotch out with her teeth before she can reach my pussy with her lips and tongue." 




Christina, Slave In Training Ch. 4



"What if she doesn't get me off," Vanessa asked Stan?

"I'm afraid she would have to be punished, whipped maybe," Stanley answered. "Would you like to do the honors on that Vanessa? I could hang her up on one of those hooks in the wall over there." 

"I certainly would," she answered with a cruel giggle. "It would almost be worth missing my chance to cum in her mouth if I could do that." 

Christine was terrified. Never the less, she was already on her knees with her head between Vanessa's thighs, even as this sadistic bitch and Stanley were discussing how to abuse and humiliate her. 

"Get on with it you bitch. Eat me." Vanessa was merciless. "I have always known you were a lez whore. Chew through my panties and eat my cunt." Not satisfied to curse poor Christine, she turned to Stanley and screamed at him, "Tell her! Damn you! Make your wife go down on me!"

In terror and desperation, Christine opened her jaws as wide as she could in that cramped space, and bit down on the panel of nylon that covered Vanessa's vagina. Of course, she wasn't able to actually chew through the crotch, but she was able to tear and pull at it until she moved it aside allowing her lips and tongue to service the pussy that had been hiding behind it. Vanessa had told the truth. Stephen he must have been playing with her earlier because she was anything but fresh and clean. 

While Christine was at her humbling task, Stanley put Julia to work stripping Stephen of his shoes and socks, then this T-shirt in slacks, and finally his underwear. "Suck him Julia," Stanley instructed. "Make him hard, but be sure you don't get him off. I want his whole load saved for my wife. She is always wanted that fine looking dick of his to fill her twat. Tonight she's going to have it, and I'm afraid she would be disappointed if he came up dry. You wouldn't want to do that would you Stephen?"

"You can bet I wouldn't," Stephen agreed as he gripped Julia by the hair and yanked her to her knees where his cock pressed against her cheek. "But then I wouldn't want to miss the sweet mouth of this pretty slut either. Get to it whore! Suck me! Make me hard. Christine's cunt is waiting for me." 

Across the room Vanessa was just beginning to respond to Christine's tongue. "Go! Go! More! More! Lick me bitch! Make me cum, or I'll have you hung on the wall where I can take the skin right off your ass." 

"Oh God damn, but that does feel good," Stephen groaned as his dick slid smoothly through Julia's lips, "but I can't take it anymore." 

Pulling himself away from Julia, he started across the room to where Christine was on her hands and knees with her head buried between Vanessa's thighs. Stephen knelt behind her, and prying the cheeks of her ass apart, slid his rod into her pussy. Christine whimpered and tried to speak, but her sounds were muffled by Vanessa's crotch. 

Stephen dog fucked Christine with long steady strokes as she rocked her body back and forth between his cock and Vanessa's cunt. Both Christine and Vanessa were soon ready to finish, and Stephen wasn't far behind them, but he wanted something more, something different for their mutual climax. Stephen drove his cock home to the hilt one last time, filling her pussy all the way to her womb. There he waited for Christine's cunt to spasm around his cock before he pulled it out reinserted it into her puckered anus. 

"AHHH, Oh God," Christine moaned, as Stephen pumped his cock in and out of her most tender and private hole. The sensation was too much for her. Involuntarily she jerked her face away from Vanessa's pussy, and begged Stephen for more cock, "Yes! Yes! Fuck my ass. You Son of a Bitch, fuck my ass. More. Fuck me!" 

Christine hated what was happening to her…but she loved it too. "My God, what am I doing," she wondered in a moment of rationality. "To be fucked in the ass is one thing, but to be on my hands and knees and stretched open while forced to eat the pussy of a woman I hate, that is something else entirely. Yet here I am begging for more. How low can a woman go in her submission to abuse?" 

Stressed as she was by pain and passion, however, Christine returned her tongue to Vanessa's pussy just in time to catch the first spasm of orgasm there. Stephen was also beginning his climax. By now he was buried all the way inside her bowel, and Christine could feel his penis pulse and jerk as it spurted inside her. Her own orgasm followed quickly. 

"Well done folks," Stanley applauded. "No, better than that. Superb! Now Christine, thank Stephen for sharing his cock with you." 

Christine was still on her knees, her head down, her eyes frozen to the floor. Her face was wet with Vanessa's female discharge, and her arms were still handcuffed behind her back. She was ashamed of the way she must look, and of what she had just done. She was even more ashamed, however, of the erotic passion with which she had reacted. 

"Damn Stanley anyway," she thought, "They have made a whore of me, and now he wants me to thank them for it?" 

"Thank you Stephen," she said, that was wonderful. "Thank you for your cock. Thank you for fucking my ass. Thank you for making me cum so delightfully." 

"Now for Vanessa!" her husband instructed her. 'Thank Vanessa for letting you eat her pussy." 

"Oh No!" She protested. "I can't bear to do that. Please! Please Stanley! If you love me, don't make me do that." 

"Do it Christine," Stanley insisted. "It couldn't have been so bad. It even looked to me as if you enjoyed having that pretty little snatch in your mouth. You got off just like she did, and look at that tasty pussy juice smeared all over your face. Now thank her, you bitch, or it's the whip for you, and I'll let Vanessa be the one who uses it. You would like that better maybe?"

"Thank you Vanessa," Christine said simply trying to let the matter pass. 

"No! No! That will not do." Stanley was clearly angry now. "Christine! You have one last chance to thank Vanessa properly before I hang you on the wall, and give Vanessa the whip. Tell her how much you enjoyed eating her pussy, and promise her you will do it again if she would like."

Christine was crushed, but there was nothing she could do but obey her husband and master. "Thank you so much Vanessa for letting me eat your cunt. You tasted so good, and I did so enjoy licking your slit. Please let me do it again for you sometime."

"Much better Christine," her husband told her. "As a matter of fact so good, I'm going to reward you by sending you off to entertain Stephen and Vanessa while they enjoy themselves in our spare bedroom. Go on now kids! Have fun!" 

Stanley then turned to Julia who was waiting on the floor at his feet like a pet dog. "And you, my pretty little slave whore, you did such a good job on Stephen's stick, that I want some of that same attention to mine. Between my legs, bitch! Take out my cock and suck me off. This time you can have a full load to swallow. Won't that be nice?"

Stanley unlocked the handcuffs that held Christine's arms behind her back, patted her on the backside, and warned her to be nice to Stephen and Vanessa. Christine suspected that sharing a bed with Vanessa was going to be a dubious reward. She was right. For one thing Vanessa had no intention of sharing her boyfriend any further. She made very sure that hers was the only pussy Stephen's penis would service. For another, Vanessa assigned to Christine the humbling task of inserting the cock they both wanted into her own crack. 

Each time Stephen ejaculated, Vanessa forced Christine to take his cock, all sticky with cum and Vanessa's wet, into her mouth and suck it clean. When Vanessa was again ready to be fucked, it was always Christine who had to suck Stephen back to a hard-on. She would lay there on her back with Stephen straddling her face, her lips stretched around his hardening prick, with her finger in her pussy masturbating for Vanessa's entertainment. 

Stephen and Vanessa showered before they left about 2:30 in the morning. Christine's job was to wash them both with special attention to their genitalia. Carefully she soaped Stephen' cock and balls, and then made certain they were well rinsed with her mouth and tongue. It was the same with Vanessa's cunt, except before Christine was even allowed to begin to wash, her tormentor stood with her legs apart demanding that the kneeling Christine once more suck her to orgasm. Then as Christine dried her off, Vanessa insisted that her slave suck on both her nipples, then kiss her pussy good night. Christine hated it all, but remembering her husband's warning of what would happen to her if she 'wasn't nice,' she had no choice but to perform as Vanessa demanded. 

After her 'guests' were gone, Christine returned to her own bedroom where Stanley and Julia were sleeping in each other's arms. Julia's fingers were still wrapped around Stanley's penis. His dried cum was splattered across her face and breasts. It was clear that the two had enjoyed themselves immensely. Christine was afraid that if she awoke her husband, he would be angry. She did not, therefore, climb into her bed with him, but lay down on the floor beside it to sleep the rest of the night away.

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To all those faithful readers who have been asking for another chapter to this story, (and who have been so patient about waiting), I apologize for being delinquent. I have my excuses, (other than just being lazy-yeah, guilty of that too), but I hate to hear a grown man whine. To those of you who have also been asking for additional chapters of 'Gangster Captive, and Kathy and Me, I can only say that a large number of votes on Christine 4, and some nice feedback, would greatly motivate me to be more productive than I have been lately. JIGS. Christine 04.doc 3/9/02