Excerpt- A Kiss is But a Kiss

 

The time dragged on so slowly, it seemed an eternity later, or at least hours and hours that she heard the 'clang!' of the bolts to her cell being opened. Someone had come in. Now her dread turned from fear of maybe having to lie still and confined forever and ever and ever, to what was going to happen next. Who was it that had come in and what was he going to do to her?

Whoever it was, he took his time. She could almost feel his eyes peering into her back, examining her naked buttocks, appreciating and savoring her helplessness. She heard him moving around. There was the unmistakable sound of him pissing into the little toilet they had there for her. She heard the toilet flush. She was so frightened, she didn't know whether to beg for him to free her or to go away and leave her alone, if she could have begged that is.

She sensed him coming closer and then crouching down beside her. Then his hands were on her and, one by one, he relieved her of her bonds and confinements. First her feet. Then he removed the confining, stiff mittens from her hands. Then he undid the straps that held her down so tight. The last one was the one around her neck which had kept her head forcefully turned towards the wall. Then she felt a hand tug at the back of her collar and heard a deep, knife edged voice tell her, "Get up, cunt."

She knew that voice. It was the voice of the black man who had promised her that he would see her sooner or later. At the time, his appearance and his gruff, assaultive interrogation had frightened her out of her wits. Now she was under his power! She resisted the urge to release a loud wail of unhappiness from behind her gagged lips, a wail that, even if it produced merely a barely audible squeak, would serve as the basis for more punishment.

The man pulled at her collar, choking her, until she was up on her knees. Then he pulled her to her feet. She was standing on the mattress and she wobbled unsteadily. He took a hard grasp of her arm and steadied her. His grip was so hard that it hurt. He gave her a rude yank and propelled her across the room. Then he made her turn and forced her to squat until she was sitting over the toilet.

"Piss, fuckbucket," he told her harshly.

She needed no further encouragement. She released a steady stream.

The man wiped her and then brought her to the middle of the room. She felt the chain that they kept there fastened to the back of her collar. The man ordered her to kneel. Once she was on her knees, he pulled the chain taut so that she was forced to kneel up straight as a rod. He gave the inside of her knees a not so gentle kick and told her to spread them wider. When she had complied, the chain from above was pulled even tighter causing her collar to put pressure on her throat. She withheld a whine.

The man's hands went to her head and she felt him releasing the straps to her hood. He turned the little valve on the front and the air hissed out of the gag. He pulled the hood off of her head and tossed it aside.

Light shone into her eyes for the first time in many hours. Even though the light was dim in her cell, giving everything a hazy appearance, it made her blink a few times. She didn't know if she should look at the man so she kept her gaze straight ahead centered on the sign that said, 'OBEY!' She could see the man's bulk out of the corner of her eye and could sense his huge and ominous presence next to her.

"You have a punishment coming, whore," the man told her in his rough, deep, harsh voice. "It's for whining in the grooming room in your last cycle. I'm going to give you 5 lashes with a switch. But first we're going to have a little lesson. And then you're going to suck my cock."

Nancy quailed at the idea of another beating. And one from this man seemed to portend as especially brutal. Tears came to her eyes and an unhappy moan built up inside her but she didn't let it out.

The man stepped in front of her, far enough away so that she could gather in his full stature. He was broad shouldered and tall. His face was black as diesel oil and just as smooth and shiny. His chin jutted out like a prow to a pirate's galley. His lips were thick and his mouth broad. His eyes were fiery and telegraphed a cruelty that seemed to come deep from within him. He was holding a 4' long switch in his right hand. Nancy felt her body tremor and a chasm open up in her belly.

"So, slut," he said roughly, "what is the first duty of a slave?"

She knew this one, but she was so frightened that she had difficulty making her voice work. "Th-the first duty of a slave is f-full and c-complete honesty in all th-things, master," she managed to eke out, her voice cracking with fear.

"That's right, slut," he answered. "So tell me, slut, are you a slave?"

This required a moment's thought. She didn't want to be a slave. She didn't want to admit being a slave. But she had to agree that they had, at least for now, enslaved her. If the definition of a slave was someone who had no rights and whose body belonged to someone else, that fit her situation to a 'T'. So, yes, the answer was yes. She was a slave.

"Yes, master," she replied unhappily. Her cogitation had taken only a second or two. She knew that the man was trying to entrap her. Sooner or later she would fuck up. But she wanted to put that moment off as long as possible.

"Are you a whore?" he asked her.

Again, it was a question that required some thought. They had said that they were going to make her into a whore. But that didn't mean that she was one. If she said she was and didn't believe it, it would be a lie. And the last thing she wanted was to be caught in a lie.

"No, master, I'm not a whore," she answered attempting some dignity.

"What is a whore?" he asked her.

"A woman who goes to bed with men for money, master," she said quickly.

"That's one definition," he replied. "But isn't another one a woman who will have sex with anyone who wants her? Don't you call a woman like that a whore?"

That was true. That's what people would call her. "Yes, master," she answered.

"And isn't it true that you're going to have sex with me in a very little while in any form that I want it?"

That was a no brainer. "Yes, master," she answered quickly.

"And if Master Chet or Eddie or Mistress Marylyn or Master Mike or anyone else came in that door behind me right now, isn't it true that you would do anything that they asked, fuck them, suck them, lick them, anything that they wanted?"

Too late, Nancy saw where the man was going. Of course she would. She would do anything that they said. Anything! Without question. A chill went through her and her eyes began to brim with tears. Her face descended into a frown. She didn't want to answer but she knew she had to. They only way she could save herself was to say no, but that would be a lie. Her lips began to tremble. She saw the impatience in the man's harrowing eyes. She only had a split second to answer. "Y-yes, master," she said finally, aware that she had just doomed herself.

"Well, that makes you a whore, doesn't it?" the man demanded.

"Y-yes, master," Nancy eked out.

The man stepped back. His right arm drew back and shot out in a flash. The switch struck her across her breasts. It was as if a line of fire had erupted there. She screamed, "Ahhhhhoooowwwwww! Ahhhhhoooowwwwww!" She burst into tears. The switch went back again and struck her across the belly. She screamed again, "Ahhhhhoooowwwwww!" She looked up at him miserably. He crossed to her back and she felt a third blow tear across her buttocks. She screamed again.

The man resumed his position. Nancy was blubbering and sobbing. Her breasts, belly and buttocks all burned fiercely.

"That's for telling a lie," the man said.

Nancy continued to sob.

"Stop your blubbering or I'll give you three more," he told her. "We're not done yet."

Nancy looked at the man dismally. She tried desperately to pull herself together. A despair so virulent that it seemed to flow in her veins seized her. How was she ever going to survive all this? How?

She stopped crying, but her body was still shaking. Her eyes kept darting back and forth between the man's angry face and the whip in his right hand.

"So, to continue," the man said, "what's the second most important duty of a slave?"

She knew this one. "T-to please her masters, master," she answered. Tears were still flowing down her face, but she had stopped sobbing.

"And how does a slave like you please her masters?"

"By obeying them, master," she replied.

"Good," he said. "And what is the third most important duty of a slave girl like you, slut?"

He was towering over her. She could see him tighten his grip on his whip as if readying himself for her mistake. She tried desperately to think. What could it be? What could it be? To please them was the second one, so it couldn't be that. And she knew by painful experience that it was not to obey them. In her panicked mind she couldn't come up with a thing. She didn't even have a guess.

There was a deadly silence in the room. And then the man said, smiling, "Time's up, whore."

He belabored her again, once, twice, three times, across her thighs, across her back, across her breasts. She howled and wailed. Ahhhhhoooowwwwww! Ahhhhhoooowwwwww!" Ahhhhhoooowwwwww!" It was so unfair! So unfair! No one had told her! Couldn't they just tell her? Why did she have to be beaten?

She did her best to stifle her sobs as soon as she could. She could tell that the man was just itching for another reason to strike her. There was a fierce fire in his eyes.

"Learn this and learn this well, slut," he told her, his voice as cold as ice, "a slave's third duty to her masters is to serve their pleasures with all of her mind, body and soul. This may be the third most important duty, but it will be the hardest one for you to learn. But learn it you will. Believe me when I say that there is not a single iota of a chance that you won't. One way or another you will learn it or you will die in the process. Do you believe me?"

A well of horror opened up in her. This man in front of her was the embodiment of all the whips and chains, the confinements, the very stones of her prison. This was the paradigm that would spell out her doom. Could they do it to her? Could they make her dedicate every fiber of her being to their service, to the thousands of cock that spread out into her future, the callous and hungry hands and lips? It would require a total conversion of her psyche. Could they do it? Could they turn her into a cock hungry slut? Everything that had happened to her so far said that they could and had with dozens if not hundreds of women before her. Was she different from them? Was she stronger, more resolute, more heroic than them? Did she prefer an undoubtedly painful and excruciating death to a transformation into a servile whore?

Tears were flowing down her face. Her body was shaking. Her belly was sour. A deadening chill went through her. She knew the answer. She was fighting it with all the strength she could muster. She knew if she said yes that that she would be, in effect, fulfilling the prophecy, guaranteeing the result. She was teetering on the edge of an abyss. Suddenly, a fierce determination came over her. She would fight them to the last! She wouldn't surrender, ever! She would fight and fight and fight until she was dead, no matter what happened!

The man was standing there expectantly. He looked as if her were ready to jump at her. "No!" she shouted. "No, I don't believe you. I'll never give in! Never! You'll have to kill me first!" She had tossed side all protocol. She had failed to call him master. She had spoken out of turn. She had shown him her defiance. Everything had been thrown into the wind. Her rebellion burned bright. It felt so good to be human again!

The man just looked at her. She had expected him to answer her with a torrent of blows, but he just stood there. Each second that he failed to react seemed like an eternity. What would he do to her? What?

He smiled. "That's a lie and you know it," he said finally. "You will grovel and whine and cry out and beg to be allowed to serve us. You are no different than a thousand whores who have come before you. We have all the time in the world to break you and a hundred ways to do it. You think that you can suffer the worst that we can deal out? You know that you can't. Look at you even now! You're shaking and crying and sweating like a pig! You are a powerless little slut and nothing more! In a few moments you will be sucking my cock as if it were your most cherished destiny. That's how far your little rebellion will carry you!"

A vast chasm opened in her gut. He was right and she knew it. A moment ago she had mustered up the bravery of a martyr, but now, watching him finger the whip in his hands, looking at his fierce eyes, remembering her wails and howls of pain and shame and humiliation when he had whipped her less than a minute ago, all told her that she was wrong. She would cave in. She would do anything to avoid the pain they were capable of raining down on her. What had she been thinking? She had doomed herself. He was going to whip her! "No, please, please don't whip me!" she thought. "Please, please, please!"

"I'm sorry master!" she shouted out. "I'm sorry, master! Please don't whip me! Please! Please! I'll do whatever you want. I'll be good! I'll do like you say! I promise! I promise! Please! Please! Please!" she sobbed hysterically.

The man moved as fast as anyone she had ever seen. He lashed out at her breasts. He struck her thighs. He belabored her rear. He struck her back, the back of her legs and then all over again. It was like a hurricane of blows. Nancy wailed and sobbed and cried. "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh, god! Pleeeeeeeease stop! Pleeeeeeeease! Pleeeeeeease!"

And then he did stop. She sobbed and cried, relieved that her torment was temporarily at an end. He waited until she slowly recovered herself. Every part of her body burned. She looked at him forlornly. Why had she lied? Why? she asked herself miserably.

"Well," he said finally, a satisfied smile on his face, "you've earned yourself a heap of punishments there. We'll have to think up something really special for you."

Nancy fought off the urge to issue a forlorn wail. What would they do? What would they do? She wouldn't be able to stand it! Why! Why! Why was this happening to her? Why?

"So I'll ask the question again," he said. "Do you believe me? Do you believe that you are powerless to resist turning into whatever we want to make of you? Do you believe that we can mold you into the most whorish of all whores, the sluttiest of all sluts, the most abject, servile, eager to please slave in all the world? Do you believe me?"

"Yes, master!" she replied immediately. "Yes, master, I do believe! I do!"

"That's good," he returned. "We're making some progress. Now you can show me what you've learned. You're going to give me the best blow job you've ever given in your life. Do you understand?"

"Yes, master!" she cried out.

He tossed the whip aside. He unbuttoned the fly to his soft, black pants. He drew out a long, thick, tumescent cock. It was as black as night, as black as the man's soul, as black as her utterly hopeless despair. He moved toward her and released the chain from her neck. "Okay," he told her. "Show me what you've got."

Nancy jumped to her task. She had to dip her head to capture the end of his seemingly endless cock. Even as it entered her mouth a well of self-hatred rose up inside her. "Why am I doing this? Why? I'm a fucking coward, that's why! I'm a fucking coward who deserves whatever happens to me! Why can't I stand up to them? Why? Why?"

The bulbous head of the black man's cock filled her mouth. She closed her lips on the stem and caressed the head with her tongue. She pressed her head downwards, subsuming more of the hot, salty wand inside of her. She could feel it stiffening as she suckled it. She pressed her head down further until the head bumped up against the back of her throat and then she slowly, slowly, slowly retreated, keeping her lips firmly around its girth. She retreated until the head was just outside of her lips and then nibbled on it gently and then bringing it in until her lips were married to its underside. Then she swirled her tongue around it again several times and recommenced her descent.

All the while it was in her mouth she couldn't stop thinking of the hateful, evil man who stood at its end. He had the right, by dint of conquest, to enter her body in any way he wanted, at any time he wanted and as many times as he wanted. She had no right to refuse him even though the experience of him occupying her most personal space was turning her stomach sour and sending a viral like chill throughout her body.

She remembered what that man Tony had told her. She had to look her assailant in the face. She wanted desperately to close her eyes, to blot out what was happening to her, but that comfort was denied her. She strained her eyes to look upwards as her lips descended the steel hard pole. He was looking down at her. His lips were turned into a mocking smirk and his eyes were drinking in every moment of her humiliation.

"Why don't I just spit it out?" she thought forlornly. "I could refuse. Make them kill me. Make them torture me to death." But she knew she wouldn't do it. The memories of the man's whip were too fresh in her mind. She realized that she would do anything to avoid being whipped again. And anything meant, now, to grant this terrible, offensive wand of meat the greatest degree of pleasure she could bring to it.

She sucked and kissed and licked. She alternated long, languid caresses with firm, determined, rapid strokes. She pressed her face down as far as it would go, letting the head pop into her throat as Tony had taught her. She let the cock go free of her mouth and then licked its underside its full length until she reached the soft, taut sack beneath it. She subsumed his pouch into her mouth and suckled gently at his stones until he released a deep, pleasured sigh. And then she came back again, licking the underside until she reached the tip and then pressed her lips around the shaft and slowly, slowly, slowly descended again until the cock was deep in her throat.

She went on and on. The man moaned and groaned. His hands rested gently on her head, caressing it as she worked him. It went on for a long time. From time to time, he would pull his hips back or thrust them forward to accentuate her efforts, or gently rock them in sympathy to her rhythms. When she looked up she saw that his eyes had closed into little slits and that his jaw had gone slack. To see him so happily exhibiting the evidence of the pleasure she was so slavishly giving him made her body sicken.

Suddenly, she realized that she was crying. She hated herself for crying. She didn't want to give them anything she didn't have to and crying just symbolized her powerlessness, her hopelessness, her defeat and her fear. She tried to stop, but she had to keep her mind concentrated on her task. And the misery she felt, her hands bound and denied her, her powerlessness, a fierce, evil man's unwanted cock in her mouth, the wounds on her flesh that still burned, all that had happened, all came crushing down on her and made the tears flow freely. Even the fact that she was crying caused her despair to deepen. But despaired or not, the man still had the whip at his disposal and she knew that she couldn't falter or she would suffer it again.

Then, after an interminable time, she took her signal from him when he began to rock his hips back and forth with increased determination, she commenced the finale. She sucked him hard and then soft and then hard. She pistoned her head up and down his crank. His groans were getting louder, deeper, more insistent. His hands tightened on her head. "Faster! Faster! Faster!" she thought as she drew her head up and down in rapid succession. "Come! Come! Come! Give it to me you fucking bastard! Now! Now! Now! Come on! Come on you mother fucker! Give it up! Give it up!"

Her neck was straining, her jaw was aching, but she did not relent. "I'll show this mother fucker!" she thought madly. "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!" she repeated again and again. The cock, so big, so long, so hot, so cruel, was like a force of evil within her. There was only one way to get it out. Her whole universe was focused on it. There was nothing but her mouth, her lips, her tongue and the poisonous probe within her. "Do it! Do it! Do it now!" she screamed inside.

The man's hips began to pound at her face. His fingers were intertwined deeply in her hair, gripping it with desperate force. The cock drove up against her throat again and again. He groaned loudly and she sensed his knees sagging. "Oh, please! Please! Please come now! Please!" she screamed inside.

And then a flood of hot jism filled her mouth. The cock began to throb and pulse. She tried to swallow it all, but he had taken control of her head now and was jamming it back and forth on his cock with rabid ferocity. She started to gag and choke. The cock kept going and going. She had never known anyone who had come so much. It spilled past her lips. His hand had circled around her jaw and he was keeping her mouth clamped hard against his cock and she was having difficulty breathing. She started mewing and whining in distress. Suddenly, he jammed his cock deep into her throat. He held it still there. She coughed and gurgled and whined and mewed, but he would not let go. Her lungs began to ache and her head began to swim. "Aaaaaauuuuuuuuuuugh! Aaaaaauuuuuuuuuugh! Aaaaaauuuuuuuuuuugh!" she screamed.

And then, just as suddenly, he released her. He pulled his cock from her mouth. She made a screeching sound as she drew in desperately needed air. He let her take three deep breaths and then he pushed his still swollen cock back in. She didn't need to be told what to do. She suckled and slurped and caressed the slick, salty, evil creature, coaxing out every last drop of the man's foul cum.

He released her. He pulled back. She looked up at him. Remorse, shame, self-pity, misery, hatred, anger, self-loathing filled her. He had made her do it. She had put everything that she had into pleasuring him. She had devoted every ounce of her being into giving him pleasure. This callous, cruel, sadistic bastard had made her do it. She had been a slave for what, maybe a day? And they had broken her. They had stripped away everything but the slut in her.

The man's weapon dangled loosely outside of his pants, slimy and slick. She could feel where his cum had dribbled down her chin. She was breathing deeply as if she had run up a flight of stairs at top speed. He was smiling. He put his cock away.

"Not bad, whore," he told her. "You're going to make all the trainers very happy. Get used to having a cock in your mouth because you're going to be doing a lot of cock sucking. You must have had a lot of practice before you got here."

Nancy couldn't help the frown that appeared on her face. Yes, she had had a lot of practice, but that was different. Then she had done it out of love, or at least passion. Now she had done it out of earth shattering fear. And cum had never tasted so bitter.

"Okay, enough playing around. It's time for your punishment and then we'll go for a little walk. Get up!"

Her punishment! She had almost forgotten. Hadn't he whipped her enough? Didn't she prove she would be good, that she would obey? Why did she have to be whipped?

Miserably, Nancy shifted herself until she could push herself up to her feet. She stared to cry as the man connected the chain to the back of her collar and pulled it taut. He went over to the side of the room and came back. "Open your mouth," he snarled. "I've had enough of your noise for now."

She opened her mouth dutifully and he jammed one of those blue balls into it. She bit down on it miserably. He stepped away from her. "Okay," he said, "Here it comes."

Almost like magic, a split second later, fire erupted across her back. She let out a stifled howl. A second later it erupted across her buttocks. And then across the back of her shins. Then as she howled and wailed, it erupted across her belly and over her breasts. Five in all, just like he promised.

He let her dangle there for a few moments, sobbing and snorting. Then he stepped in front of her. "Do you remember what that punishment was for, fuckbucket?" he asked.

"...es, ..as-er!" she wailed.

"What was it for?"

"...or ...i-ing, ...as-er!" she replied sadly.

"Yes, for whining. And what did that teach you?"

"Eh ...a ...aye ...irl ...ould ....e-er ...ine, ...as-er!"

"That's right. A slave girl should never whine. Remember that!"

He put the whip back up on the rack on the wall and then went over to the iPad embedded in it. He keyed in his code and called up the girl's file. He entered in the punishment and other strokes, the training session, Lesson #2, and the blow job. He gave it a 7 out of 10 and added the comment, "Very enthusiastic mouth but needs to learn to swallow better. Not yet adjusted to throat fucking. Showed sign of rebellion. Needs to be whipped often."

He came back and released her hands from her belt at the back. He released the back of her collar from the chain and attached a leash.

"Get down," he said roughly.

She dropped to her knees and then her hands. She stared down at the floor. He gave her leash a little tug and brought her to the door. She kept her head down while he keyed in the code and put his palm on the reader. The bolts clanged open and he pushed the door just enough to let the girl squeeze through. He followed her, let the door swing shut. The locks clanged back into place.