She looked around the odd room she was stored in. ‘Stored in’ seemed an apt description because she was sure the room had been built for storage and not human occupation. Then again she wasn’t sure she was still legally human since her enslavement.
The room was about 10 by 12 and the walls were cement block. The walls were painted the most disgusting green she’d ever seen. Her first thought was that these walls held the answer to one of life’s little mysteries. She had always wondered where the mis-mixed paint at the hardware store went and now she was pretty sure she knew.
The door was wood with a large window made of glass filled with wire mesh. The floor was ancient asbestos tiles in a checkerboard pattern and the ceiling was covered with those old ceiling tiles filled with holes. She remembered she still hadn’t managed to count all of the holes in one tile before her eyes crossed. There was a bare, stained mattress on the floor, a worn flowered armchair in the back corner and a galvanized bucket by the door.
Well that little scenic tour used up at least 30 seconds, she thought, now I only have to find something else to do. Damn, I am so effing bored!
She heard the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway. Someone was opening the door. A young woman, gagged and with her arms secured behind her with handcuffs was roughly pushed into the room.
“Well here’s a cure for boredom I guess.” The woman muttered as she walked over to help the young woman to her feet. “Welcome to my world” she said “here let me help you up. You can sit on the edge of the mattress. The guards don’t mind that. NO!!! Don’t sit in the chair. The chair is for the guards. They come in at shift change and they like to sit in it for their blowjobs. Ahhhh ….. don’t look so panicked. It’s not so bad. It’s so effing boring that I’ve started to look forward to them.”
“It’s too bad you’re gagged. Maybe the guards will remove it at lunchtime and then you can tell me why you were enslaved. You’re only, what, about 25?” The young woman nodded and then looked at the older woman like she was asking a question.
“How did I get here?” She paused. “Is that what you’re asking?” The young woman nodded again.
“It’s a long story but we don’t seem to be in a hurry so sit back and relax. Oh, sorry I didn’t realize cuffs made that so difficult. Well just sit and I’ll tell you,” She sat on the edge of the mattress beside the young woman, then continued with her story.
“It was last Thursday evening and I was driving home from a craft night with the girls. I live, oh hell, make that I lived in a rural area about 30 miles to the west of Eastlake. As usual the road was deserted. I’ve been driving for 35 years and I enjoy driving especially a road I know so well, I was playing a cd really loud and getting lost in my thoughts.. Listening to Peter Gabriel is not compatible with driving the speed limit.”
“Cindy… she’s been a friend for years… was there that night. Her husband enslaved her last year, and even though he lets her come to crafts night and even wear clothes, she seemed to have become severely depressed. I asked her how everything was and she just shuddered. I had some questions I wanted to ask her. I’ve fantasized about submission and slavery for a number of years and I’ve always wondered what it would be like to not have control. OK, OK, I can see you’re as freaked out by that as Cindy was. She started sobbing when I asked, but it’s not something I could ever mention to anyone. ”
“Well anyway, I didn’t get any answers.”The older woman paused for a few seconds. “So there I was, driving home and thinking about my life.” She paused in her narration as though gathering her thoughts, took a deep breath, then continued.
“My husband Gary and I have been married for almost 30 years. Our anniversary is in two weeks.” She changed the pitch of her voice and acted like she was speaking to someone else. With more than a hint of sarcasm in her voice, she said, “Happy anniversary hon.” Then she softened her voice and added, almost wistfully, “He would never enslave me. He just isn’t the slave-owning type.” She shook off her sadness and smiled brightly as she visualized what she was about to say. ” I was driving along and thinking how I wish that just once he would demand a blowjob. He likes a blowjob well enough, but he would never demand one, and lord knows, he could never whip me for giving a bad one. Or even for not giving one at all. I guess I resented that he would never demand sex, or never be more forceful. Just once I longed to have my hair pulled and to have him jam his cock up my ass without asking for permission. Damn, he could tie me up and whip me and use me as a fuck toy for hours and I’d probably just purr. Well … not a bad whipping, I’ve never been whipped and I doubt my fantasy whipping would feel all that good for real, but I’m sure you know what I mean.”
“Don’t get me wrong. I love my husband. At the worst times of our life together he’s made me laugh. We finish each other’s thoughts. It’s actually spooky how often he’ll say something about something on the news and it’s exactly what I was about to say. He gives me the nicest orgasms but dammit to hell, I want more!”
“Before you were enslaved, didn’t you ever wonder how it would feel to have that itch scratched? What it would feel like to be taken in every hole repeatedly and roughly? To be bound and gagged and then fucked remorselessly with vigor? I used to think I was warped. Who would want to be treated like a possession? After the laws changed back in 2000 and all those slave and torture shows came on television I realized I’m not alone. I felt much better knowing I wasn’t the only woman who wanted to be dominated during sex.”
“Anyway, Thursday evening I was speeding along and this jerk jumped a stop sign right in front of me. I slammed on the brakes and went right into a skid. As hard as I tried I couldn’t miss him and ended up destroying his back bumper. At least I didn’t T-bone him…. our airbags didn’t go off and we were both ok. We got out and exchanged information. I called 911 and they said a patrol car would be there shortly”
“I called Gary on my cell to let him know I would be even later. He’s a bit possessive. He hates when I’m not there in the evenings even if all I do is grab him a beer when he wants one.”
“When the police arrived he started measuring the skid marks and checking the damage. The officer asked all kinds of questions and then went to his car to do something with the computer. He had an odd smirk on his face when he got out of the car.”
“This young officer, his name was Murphy, was about your age, and I’m willing to bet he played football, walked slowly over to me and said ‘Ma’am, you were speeding.’ So I said, ‘Yeah, but he jumped the stop sign!’ Murphy suddenly had a big smile on his face.”
“Officer Murphy proceeded to explain that the guy I hit might sue because I was in the wrong. He jumped a stop sign, which is a misdemeanor but I was speeding. Yeah, I know, it didn’t make a lot of sense to me either but he was the cop and this was the first time I had been in an accident.”
“At this point I was about ready to scream. Gary would lose it if I got sued, if we were sued and I’d never hear the end of it. I asked Officer Murphy if there was anything I could do and his response was ‘If I were you I’d go over and be very nice to that gentleman … if you know what I mean. If you get him to agree not to press charges then he wouldn’t be able to sue. If you want, I’ll follow you over to be a witness in case he agrees.’ I knew what he meant.”
“Nobody, and by that I mean Gary, had ever said I give a good blow job, but I thought I did. I figured it was worth a try. I really didn’t want to have to explain to Gary that I was being sued. The other driver, and for the life of me I can’t remember his name, was sitting in his car. I walked over, knocked on his window and waited while he opened it and said ‘Officer Murphy thought you might agree to not press charges considering we were both at some fault.’ I don’t know what was going through his head but when he looked at me I felt naked and my mouth went dry.”
“Here I was on a rural road about 10 at night getting ready to offer some guy a blow job and my mouth went dry. I doubt the guy wanted a dry blowjob. The guy looked at me again and said ‘No, I don’t think I want to do that. Why should I?’ and I thought ‘Oh crap, he’s gonna make me ask for it. He knows what I’m offering. We both know what I’m offering.He wants me to humiliate myself just for him!!’ but what I said after hemming and hawing and stammering was ‘Uh, Officer Murphy thought I might be able to offer you a reason.’ And he smiled.”
“This man was about 40. He was dressed casually. It was the strangest thing but I found myself looking at him and deciding this wasn’t going to be too bad ’cause he looked like he had showered recently. Yep, I can tell you think it’s strange too. Has anyone ever told you how expressive your eyes are? He actually startled me when he said ‘And what might that reason be? What could a lady like you offer me?’ ” I blushed; either that or my blood pressure went through the roof and replied, “I thought I might offer you a blow job. Provided you agreed to drop everything.’ He smiled again.”
“Officer Murphy piped up with ‘If you agree to drop everything I’ll witness the agreement and put it in my report.’ I was standing there by this guy’s damaged car wishing the ground would open up and swallow me right there. It probably only took him about 30 seconds to reply but I swear it was the longest 30 seconds of my life. ‘OK, fine with me. Get in and get started.’ he finally said.”
“Well the ground didn’t open and swallow me and Scotty wasn’t about to beam me up so I walked around his car and climbed in the passenger door. He had already unzipped and his hard cock was standing straight up just waiting for me. Hey this was only the second cock I had ever seen close up and it was nice, not too big, not too small and bonus, it smelled good as I got closer to it. Uh … do you want me to skip ahead? No? OK. Once I convinced him to lower his pants to his knees, put his seat back and raise the steering wheel so my head would fit I started by kissing and licking everything I could reach. I gently licked and sucked at each of his balls and then after sticking the tip of my tongue in his hole, I sucked as much of his cock into my mouth as I could fit all the while swirling my tongue around it.”
“As I bobbed my head and swirled my tongue, I gently scratched his belly and balls with my nails. Since then the guards have given me some pointers but that’s another story. This guy didn’t have any complaints … or staying power for that matter. I was just starting to get into it. What? Yeah, so I was getting horny blowing a stranger, what can I say ? I offered to skip ahead but … Oh, sorry, I’m making you horny? Is that it?” The younger woman nodded. “Well I’d like to help but the guards get pissed if we masturbate when they aren’t watching so you’re just going to have to put up with it.” The older woman kept talking.
“This guy only lasted about two minutes when he groaned, his cock jerked and he came in my mouth. I swallowed his cum. It was saltier than Gary’s. That surprised me. I don’t know why but I always thought cum tasted the same no matter what the source. I licked around to make sure everything was clean, helped him pull his pants up and then got out of the car. He looked over at me, grinned, nodded, started his engine and drove off.”
“I walked over to get in my car when Officer Murphy told me to leave the keys in the ignition.” She stopped talking and listened. “It’s lunchtime, I can hear the guard coming, get on your knees facing the door. I’ll finish my story later,” she said softly.
As the door opened, she hissed, “Oh crap! LOOK AT THE FLOOR! Not at the door and never at the guard’s face unless he tells you to!”