The Dominion
by Smotherfan

It had been dark when they had brought him shackled and blindfolded to the rooms that were his home, cell and punishment.

It had been dark when he’d flagged down the dark windowed people carrier. He’d been walking for hours and was tired, cold and hungry. A score of cars had ignored him on that lonely road and how he wished that the dark windowed people carrier had been included in that total.

There’s been writing on the side of the carrier, he hadn’t paid that much attention, it had been something girls school. So he wasn’t even sure where he was, who his captors were or even his ultimate fate.

The driver of the carrier was young, blonde and decidedly female. She pointed to the side door and promptly ordered him inside. The door had opened and he’d been greeted by three more young women, there had been another blonde, and two brunettes. All had been what he’d have called attractive.

They’d introduced themselves as Emma (the blonde), Monica and Jackie (the brunettes) and Caroline (the driver). Almost immediately they’d bombarded him with questions like:

“Who was he?”

“Where he was headed?”

“Who was expecting him?”

“What did he do for a living?”

The questions had seemed mundane and simply polite conversation, or so he’d imagined. Now he realised how each question had been designed to prove his suitability for kidnapping and the humiliation and torture that he was now enduring.

He had asked them questions in return, but they had never quite answered him. He hadn’t noticed at the time, but on reflection, he realised that they had deliberately avoided his questions.

He had been perfect. At twenty-six he was physically fit, healthy, an itinerant worker who’d never stayed anywhere for more than six months since his late teens, he appeared on no-one’s payroll. A single rootless man, with no family who’d miss him; he had been perfect.

In the quiet, warm confides of the carrier he’d lost track of time and as the vehicle twisted and turned, even the direction.

He remembered that they had been dressed similarly but not the same. Short sleeved tops and almost knee length skirts. It wasn’t quite a uniform. The tops were differently coloured, the skirts were universally dark, but in the half-light of the carrier he couldn’t differentiate the colours.

He’d noticed the strange configuration of the vehicle, its wheelbase had seemed un-naturally wrong. Now, safely inside, he saw how beyond the driver’s seat, the passengers each had a seat and then behind them had been an expanse of soft, padded blackness. It had looked like a mattress, but he’d dismissed the notion and had decided that the rear of the carrier was simply one huge boot.

The conversation dried up and the girls exchanged conspiratorial whispers. He considered that rude but after hundreds of lifts he’d learnt never to be critical of his temporary hosts. So he kept his peace and sat in silence as the carrier moved through the darkness.

“How far are you going?” He’d asked eventually. He had started to wonder. He was going nowhere in particular, but wanted to end up somewhere near civilisation.

“We haven’t decided.” Laughed the brunette called Monica. She had a brassy, loud laugh and a seemingly crude personality to match.

“Lets have a vote?” Suggested Jackie, the other brunette.

“Yes!” Agreed Monica. “Let’s be democratic.” She called above the hum of the engine and radio. “All in favour of smothering him?”

“Me!” Shouted Jackie.

“Me!” Agreed Emma.

“And me!” Caroline called from the front of the carrier.

“As am I!” laughed Monica. “So it’s a unanimous landslide.”

He had sat in silence, completely mystified by their actions. He had a burgeoning feeling that this was not good, but he wasn’t really bothered. He’d hitch rides for ten years now and nothing much had ever happened to him. The worse that had happen was that he’d be dumped in the middle of no-where. So that was the worse that he could have imagined.

After ten years on the road he was both world wise and naïve. World wise in the ways of the road, sleeping rough, how to cadge a lift or a free meal. Naïve in the ways of women; the extent and depth of their emotions and the depravities to which their needs might sink.

“Agreed?” Monica asked into a sudden and deep silence.

“Agreed!” Came the chorused reply.

“Now?” Monica asked.

“Now!” Once more the chorus agreed.

The carrier had slowed and after a minute or so bumped to a gentle halt. The radio died with the engine, leaving just that deep, overwhelming silence.

He had looked slowly from face to face, the half light illumination in the carrier giving their complexions an eerie, threatening appearance. It had not looked promising and he’d loosened his seat belt in preparation to bolting from the carrier.

“What’s happening?” He had asked.

“We have an itch which needs scratching.” Monica had said in a soft but ominous voice. Someone tittered, but in the almost darkness he couldn’t say who.

He’d misunderstood. “I’m not very experienced.” He’d begun. “Never been with more than one girl at a time.”

They had roared with laughter, laughed so hard that tears ran down those ghostly cheeks.

He decided that it was time to run and had been out of his seat before any of them had moved, his hand had been on the door handle before they had realised that he was trying to escape, one tug and he’d be free, only the door had stayed shut. No matter how hard he’d tried, it had stubbornly remained locked.

“Self locking.” Monica’s cold voice informed him. “Controlled by the driver. You only get out when we decide.” There was a silence and then she added. “Get him.”

He only understood what that meant when he was assaulted from behind, hands around his arms pulling him backwards, legs and feet undermining his balance, pulling him over. He staggered, struggled to regain his balance, for a second almost freeing himself and then Monica, at least he thought that it was Monica, pushed against his chest.

The attack took place in silence. One moment he had been imagining his escape and the next he was falling backwards, propelled by the weight and strength of the girls.

He landed with a soft thud in the rear of the carrier. The dark mass of the floor was covered in a soft, rubbery material, just the sort you found in a gymnasium. So he wasn’t hurt, just shocked and completely shaken by the event, and then the girls piled onto him in a flurry of arms and legs.

Now he shouted, swore at them, tried to kick and punch, tried to wriggle free. He was stronger and heavier than any of them, but there wasn’t one; there were at least three of them.

One held down each arm, whilst a third sat across his chest, and now the fourth came sat astride his legs. He still bucked and struggled, but their combined weight was too great, their collective strength too much for him. He was simply tiring himself out.

So slowly he stopped fighting, even though this admission hurt his pride. He was after all being defeated by a group of teenage girls.

“What do you want?” He gasped.

“You!” Came Monica’s breathless reply.

“Why?” He asked. He still tried to free a hand but they weighed him down.

“You’ll find out.” Monica retorted and then to the other girls. “Cuff him.”

It happened before he had begun realise what Monica was demanding. The cold touch of metal around his wrists was followed by the hard click of a lock closing. They let go of his arms and instinctively he moved to free himself, only to find his wrists seemingly secured to the sides or floor of the vehicle. He tugged and wrenched at his restraints but only succeeded in hurting his wrists.

He was suddenly very, very scared. “Why?” He whispered his voice soft and broken with the sudden fear that rose from his ice-cold stomach.

“We have a vacancy to fill, and right now you are the prime candidate.” Monica said.

He decided that she was the leader and so he concentrated his attention on her.

“What sort of vacancy?” He asked, dreading the answer.

“He asks too many questions.” One of the others hissed.

“You know how to shut him up.” Laughed Monica.

He twisted his head from side to side, trying to see the faces of his captors. The half-light confused and distorted his view. He didn’t recognise any of them, they were all strangers to him and that was when the realisation hit him.

He was a stranger to them and that was something that they had planned, abduction of a stranger off a deserted highway in the gloom of early evening. The questioning had been geared to confirm exactly that he was a drifter who no one would miss.

“You planned this!” He exclaimed.

“Very sharp!” Monica sneered.

He felt the ring of cold metal around each ankle and then the imprisoning click. He didn’t fight. As long as his hands were secure then any resistance was only a futile gesture, one that could bring a greater retribution on him.

“Secure!” A self-satisfied young female voice announced.

He felt Monica relax, the tension in her muscles fled and her weight increased. She was sitting further up his chest and he felt her weight bearing down on him. It wasn’t crushing or painful, but it did make breathing a little difficult.

Also the weight on his legs shifted but didn’t go away, so he knew there were at least two of them still sitting on him.

Then he was aware of someone above him, kneeling beyond his head, he felt her bare knee against his skull. He tried to look back but Monica caught his chin.

“Don’t move.” She laughed. “It’ll just make things worse.” She looked past him. “Shut him up.”

He was about to speak when he felt the weight of another girl across his shoulders, her knee’s and then her legs and … and … then she sat across his face!

He struggled but she kept his face upright by wedging his head between her feet. She ground down, settling her full weight across his mouth and nose, burying his eyes beneath her buttocks.

His senses reeled from the shock; the sudden humiliation, her weight and the strong smell of her body odours assailed his sanity. This just couldn’t be happening! It had to be a sick dream; something that he’d ate, any moment now he’d awake.

He tried to pretend that it wasn’t happening but slowly the weight on his chest increased, his lungs began to burn, his head swam from lack of air. They were going to suffocate him!

He cried out, only for the sound to be muffled by her body, he strained, fought and twisted, but the cuffs held and they weighed down on him, driving the remaining air from his body.

He knew that he was going to die, and then and only briefly, the smothering behind raised itself from his face. He gasped, expelling and inhaling air as fast as he could, trying to fill his air starved lungs.

The backside returned, stifling his world of light and air, returned the stronger smells of her body, the embarrassment of being so close to her sexual organs, the shame of having his face rammed between her ass cheeks.

He still tried to struggle, the animal instinct of survival drove him on, but as the smothering continued he became weaker and weaker, more and more incoherent and incapable of understanding what was happening to him.

He gradually stopped fighting, he couldn’t stop his body from rebelling against the lack of air, but he didn’t have the strength the resist anymore.

At sometime the carrier moved back onto the road. This brought more pain and pressure, as each bump, and turn was transmitted through the carrier’s suspension and into his body. The continual vibration that seated he would never have noticed wore away at him.

After a while he no longer cared, the only objective of his existence was the desire to live, the need to breath, it was something they granted and it was all that bothered him.

They were excited, chattering amongst themselves, the language crude, and the subjects obscene.

“He’s passed the first test.” His face-sitting tormentor announced. “His face makes a very comfortable seat.” She wiggled her bottom and wearily he found his face being moved by the weight and power of her rear.

“Let me try!” Someone shouted and for a few precious moments his face was free and then another rear descended onto his, taking its position on his helpless face.

He was dumbly aware that each of the girls took their turn on his face, their smells were different, the weight different, one had a bony ass whilst another soft, enveloping one. It didn’t matter. They each took turns on him.

He lost track of all time. When they finally tired of his torture and left him alone he simply slept, his body exhausted, his mind to shattered to fully consider what had happened or what his fate might be.

He was woken. A slap to his face brought him around and into the pain of his position. Monica laughed at his discomfort and then released his ankles. He was too weary to do anything to resist as she shackled his legs together. Now she released his hands only to handcuff together.

“Come on.” She pulled at his shirt and literally dragged him out of the carrier, leaving him collapsed on the tarmac. “On your feet!” She demanded and grabbed his arm. Another girl grabbed his other arm and he was hauled to his feet, his legs were like jelly, his back ached, his neck thought that it had been severed.

It was dawn. The light gave that away but nothing else. The morning was still and quiet as they half marched, half dragged him into a single storey building. He was vaguely aware of other buildings in the tree’s, but no other people. It was as if they were the only five people in the world.

They took him inside the building and through a maze of corridors that always seemed to travel slowly downwards. He might have been wrong as his legs repeatedly gave out from beneath him.

Finally he was outside a heavy metal door. Monica held him whilst one of the blondes tripped the combination lock, then he was pushed inside; to be followed by the two girls.

Without their support he collapsed onto the floor where they left him. He tried to keep his eyes focused upon the floor, afraid, as he was to look either of them in the face.

One of them prodded him with her foot and when he didn’t respond kicked him hard in the ribs. He doubled up, instinctively shielding his face from other blows.

“Look at me.” The girl hissed.

He did so, fearfully of punishment either way. She was a blonde, he thought she might have been the driver, but his befuddled senses couldn’t register or confirm that face.

She bent down and released the manacles from his ankles and the cuffs from his wrists.

He was afraid to look away. The blonde had dark shoots to her hair and deep brown eyes. He knew she was more brunette than blonde, but that didn’t matter, right now she was in charge and she knew it.

“Explore. You’ll find clothes and a shower. You have thirty minutes to make yourself presentable.”

They left him, alone and still slumped on the floor, which was also carpeted with the same soft, rubbery material as the carrier. The door had slammed shut and he had heard the hiss of air forced being forced out. It made him feel as if he were in a cell. It wasn’t a new experience. Any drifter who’d lived on the road as long as he had, would have ended up in jail sometime or other.

He allowed himself a few minutes to recover and then, very slowly he began to explore his prison, for he was under no illusions that he was being held prisoner.

The first room was square, only four spaces wide, featureless plaster walls, no windows and no furniture. Only one corridor lead from it and he followed this, finding the narrow bed and its thin bedding, a toilet and shower hidden behind a curtain. There was a grey vest and matching shorts thrown on the bed.

He had decided that resistance would only lead to punishment and so until he could escape he had to co-operate. So he undressed and took the shower. The water never rose above lukewarm, but together with the soap it was still almost luxury to a man who’d washed in freezing cold mountain streams.

He dried himself and finally dressed in the vest and shorts. They were almost too big but it didn’t matter.

He explored the rooms again. They were all universally featureless and he became aware of the utter silence. Once more back in the main room he discovered the almost invisible door, one blocked from his examination. There was no lock, just a counter sunk slot for a card of some kind.

Out of curiosity he examined the main door. It required a combination, so there was no key, no card he could steel. He would have to force one of them to let him go. It would take time but he was sure he would succeed.

A few things registered with him. There was no clock and they had taken his watch. No room had a window, nor were there any light switches. He would quickly lose track of time and there would be no way he could regulate anything, everything was under their control.

He discovered how slowly time went. He’d thought the thirty minutes had long since past when the door opened with a soft hiss and the brunette / blonde and Monica re-entered to room.

Monica tossed a bag towards him. “Put your clothes in there.” She ordered. He did so and she took the bag away, leaving him with only the brunette / blonde. He glanced past her and towards the apparent freedom of the corridor.

“Try it!” She dared. She even stepped to one side, giving him an almost free run for the door.

He looked closely at her, knowing that she was daring him and knowing that meant she was confident he couldn’t escape. Where to other’s waiting in the corridor? There was only one way to find out.

The room was so small that she was almost within touching distance. He had no room to manoeuvre, no space in which to build up speed. He just had to burst past her and keep running.

So he tried, attempting to hand her off, to deflect her grabbing wrists and for the briefest of seconds he thought he was past her and then her palm slammed into his stomach and he doubled up. She couldn’t hit him that hard! He tried again and this time she was smiling when she hit him back into the room.

He bounced off the wall and collapsed to his knees breathless and already beaten. She was across and standing astride his prostrate body before he had covered his breathe.

“Understand that I have studied Judo for ten years and I could do you a very serious hurt if I wished to.” She spoke so softly that he almost had to strain to hear her clearly, but the threat and menace in her voice was loud enough.

He looked up and then away. He could see right up her short skirt and the memories of those horrible hours of suffocation returned. Only a few hours ago this girl had been grinding her ass across his face.

“Look at me!” She demanded.

He did so, not out of choice, but afraid that she would hurt him again. He could see right up her skirt and he couldn’t help his eyes flitting between her cold, expressionless face and the sight of her panties.

“Nosy!” She said and then laughed at her own joke.

He blushed, embarrassed by her words and the double meaning hidden in them.

Monica returned. She glanced down at him and then towards her companion.

“Let him up.” Monica suggested and the other girl stepped aside to allow him to rise on shaky legs. He stood between them, taller than them both, but now shaking with fear. “You need to understand that Emma is our enforcer.” Monica began by saying. “If you break the rules or disobey any of us then Emma will punish you, and that means she will hurt you. Understand?” She spoke as if explaining something to a moron.

He nodded.

“Answer her.” Emma demanded, digging stiff fingers between his ribs.

He gasped. “I understand.” He whispered.

“Good!” Monica almost smiled. “Now get on your knee’s”

He did so and found himself trapped between their towering bodies.

“Now look up.” Instructed Monica.

He did so.

“This is your natural position.” Monica began. “You will always look up to us, both physically and mentally. We are your superiors in every way and your only function is to please us, do this and we will reward us, fail us and you will wish you had never been born! Understand?”

“Yes!” He choked back tears.

“Don’t cry!” Monica demanded. “I hate it when a man cries.”

He bit his lip and knuckled his eyes until his vision blurred, but he didn’t cry. He looked from one girl to the other, awaiting his next instruction.

“I think he needs to see the room.” Monica said to Emma.

Emma grinned and pulled a card from her pocket.

“This room is for our pleasure and your punishment.” Smiled Monica. “Just how much punishment you receive depends on how much pleasure we receive. Please us and life will be tolerable, dissatisfy us and you will wish you’ve never been born.”

He didn’t answer; merely bit his lip again.

Emma’s card had opened the almost invisible door. The door opened with a whoosh of escaping air. She entered the room without a backwards glance, leaving Monica to usher him to follow them.

The room was the biggest in his prison and its use was so obvious that he couldn’t help trembling.

The now familiar soft rubber covered the floor, but that wasn’t what frightened him. It was the wooden frame bolted to the wall with its dangling restraints.

“Let me explain the furniture.” Grinned Monica.

“The frame.” She pointed to the wooden frame. “Strapped to that, we can do what ever we want to you, just imagine being strapped in whist Emma punishes you.” She crossed to a wide, leather bench and lifted up a pair of handcuffs. “On here you will please us.” There were more restraints built into the floor. “Also here.” She pointed to them. Finally she pointed to the bed with a simple bare mattress. “Also here.” She cast around the room. “Your punishment and our pleasure and our pleasure and our pleasure, and that starts now!”

He wanted to run but there was nowhere to run to and that meant they would eventually bring him back to this room, and that meant they would punish him.

“Do we need to cuff you?” Emma asked seriously.

“No!” He whispered. “I’ll do anything you ask.” He bowed his head in submission. He could see no escape from this torture, so he only had the recourse of utterly submitting to them, no matter how much that hurt or revolted him.

“Don’t promise until you know the deal!” Warned Emma. She propelled him towards the bed. “Get on there, and spread yourself, just like in the carrier.”

He did so, all the time conscious that the girls had taken up position either side of the bed.

“Flip for first go.” Suggested Monica.

“Flip.” Agreed Emma. She pulled a coin from a tiny purse clipped to her skirt band. She showed the coin to Monica. “I call, you flip.”

“Head’s.” Monica called as the coin spiralled through the air. It landed with a soft thud on the bed besides him. “I win.” Smiled Monica.

“Lucky Bitch!” Laughed Emma. “Don’t wear him out, we all want our share.”

It was like he wasn’t really there. They joked and talked about him as if he weren’t really there. Then Emma left them and a smiling Monica returned to him.

“Alone at last.” She laughed as she casually climbed upon the bed and then straddled his chest. “I have been waiting for this since the moment you climbed into the carrier.” She wriggled forwards, pinning his shoulders beneath her bony knees. “I am going to get so used to this position.” She laughed. “Your stupid face between my thighs. A bit closer I think, so you can enjoy a closer view.”

She moved across his face, until the damp patch of her crotch lay across his mouth and his nose rested against the indented valley of her sex. Only the reinforced gusset of her pants was keeping him from direct contact with her sex.

He said or did nothing, just stared blankly into her face and waited for the next humiliation. It was not long in coming. Monica was excited. It wasn’t just the constant way that she chattered or the red flush in her cheeks, or how her eyes were dilated, it was the strong, pungent aroma seeping through her panties.

He couldn’t breathe without drawing in that aroma.

He was starting to understand his role, even if he didn’t comprehend the extent of their planned domination of his life. He could see nothing beyond keeping these mad bitches happy, happy until he could escape or they tired of their little crude game.

She moved further across his face, until her face was lost from his view beneath her bottom. It had been better in the carrier; there in the half-light the details had not been so clear. He had been able to hide in the shadowy gloom.

Now there was no place to hide, no convenient shadow in which he could shelter. He could see where she had shaved, the tiny black stubble marks of the removed pubic hair. A pimple now filled with yellow puss on the inside of her thigh.

She lowered herself until his nose once more brushed against her gusset. The bouquet of her body was becoming stronger and stronger, every breath that he took seemed saturated by with her.

Monica was swaying slightly, sliding her body across his face, still with only the barest of touches, but he was aware of how she would shudder as her movement reached its summit.

She lowered herself still further, now her thighs brushed against his cheeks, the thin stubble scratched against his skin. He could feel her heat, the heat of her body, the heat of her excitement, now his nose was pressed deep into her gusset.

He could imagine what it would be like without her panties, how he’d be deep inside her sex. It made him shudder. He was no prude or sexual abstainer, but this wasn’t the shared sex he’d always enjoyed. This was one person taking utterly and one person giving utterly. There was no exchange of affection, just dominance.

He expected Monica to continue until she was satisfied but suddenly she sat back, her sex still covered his mouth and nose and her thighs pinned his head so that he could only stare into her face.

She was breathing hard; the flush in her cheeks was deeper. She took a deep breath before she spoke.

“Understand this. I will train you, learn quickly and Emma will not punish you. Please us and you will have other rewards, displease us and Emma will punish you. A warning. She enjoys punishing people. It will not be pleasant or over quickly. Understand?” She asked, demanding a reply from him.

“Yes!” He mumbled into her body.

“Yes Mistress.” Monica repeated. “At all times you will refer to any of us as Mistress. Understand?”

“Yes Mistress.” He mumbled again.

“Well that’s a bright beginning.” She smiled; it wasn’t a warm smile but was filled with her obvious relish for the task. “I think you should become reacquainted with my ass.”

For a moment he panicked. He remembered the emotions he’d felt whilst they had been smothering him, and then his restraints had prevented him from fighting.

Monica moved herself into position, for a brief moment his nose was free of her odour and then she was above him again. Only this time facing down his body, again she kept his face upright by wedging his head between her feet, then she settled down, settling her full weight across his mouth and nose, burying his eyes beneath her buttocks.

He fought the panic, for a brief few moments he was oblivious of his position and he struggled with himself and the desire to throw her off. It could only lead to pain and punishment.

Monica moved, reaching behind herself she grabbed his hair and pulled his face into her pantied covered ass crack.

“A man’s nose should always be buried up his Mistresses behind.” She laughed. “It is a man’s natural position in life.”

She settled again, her body now utterly smothered his mouth and nose; only his eyes could be seen, filled with fear and peering up her body. She released him only briefly, a moment in which to fill his lungs before she returned to her complete suffocation of him.

She held him like that; occasionally insulting him, occasionally hurt him. She liked to pinch his nipples. It made him wriggle and squirm, but he couldn’t dislodge her.

Suddenly he realised that he could no longer free himself. It was as if her ass was drawing the strength from his body. He saw star’s, his head pounded and then, just when the panic had turned to a scream, she released his face.

Monica climbed from his oxygen-starved body. He felt weak, so very weak and couldn’t understand why. Still he tried to rise until she turned around and pushed him backwards.

“I didn’t say anything about you moving.” She said coldly. “I have barely started on you. Did you really think it was all over?”

A complicated mixture of shame and disappointed flooded him.

“Well? Answer me!” Monica demanded. “Did you really think it was all over?”

“Yes Mistress.” He slumped back against the mattress. It had been a futile hope. As if they had gone to all this trouble just to sit on his face for a few minutes. He had to be a fool, but then he was. No sane person would have climbed into an unknown carrier with four complete strangers, but he had and just look where it had taken him.

She began to undress. At first he tried to ignore the fact, partly because he was afraid of what she might do and partly out of fear of what was next.

“Look at me.” She demanded.

He did so.

She was almost naked; simply her briefs remained.

“Am I beautiful?” She asked.

“Yes Mistress.” He agreed. He would agree to anything, even that her farts could be bottled as perfume.

Monica laughed.

“I know you are lying but believe me, before long you will beg to please me, you will worship my arse, you will think that I or any of the others are the most beautiful women in the world and you will believe it. We will become your world, the reason for your existence.”

He said nothing. He could never believe that, but he would keep his own counsel.

She dropped her briefs. Instinctively his eyes fell to her groin, to the thin carpet of dark pubic hair and the distinctive slit of her sex. He felt himself stiffen and prayed that it wouldn’t happen.

Monica came back to the side of the bed. He could see how her nipples were aroused and risked her anger glanced once more at her sex. It glistened, its dirty pink folds open and demanding his attention.

She rubbed her hand across his shorts, lingering over his growing erection. It leapt against her touch, pushing against the soft material to form a tent.

“Who said that you could get hard?” She asked.

“No one. I’m sorry Mistress.” He started.

Monica ignored him; casually she took up her station on his stomach.

He could feel how wet she was.

“You have no idea how horny this makes me.” Monica signed. She slid across him until her sticky, viscose fluids must have covered his entire stomach. “Ever munched on a woman’s pussy?” She asked as she moved nearer to his face.

“Yes Mistress.” He admitted.

“Often?” She was now so close that he could see inside her sex.

“No Mistress.” He admitted again.

“Well let’s just hope that you learn quickly.” She laughed shortly and slid across his face, at once smearing herself across his mouth, nose and eyes. “Come on, what’s stopping you.” She lifted herself slightly until he could look up into the gaping maw of her sex.

Tentatively he extended his tongue and touched the gleaming out lips. She moved, instantly reacting to his touch. He tried again, this time sliding his tongue along pussy lips. He tried to be gentle, mostly out of fear but he knew how sensitive a woman’s sex was. He didn’t want to do anything beyond pleasing her.

He sought out her clitoris, reaching the top of her slip and then probing with his tongue for the tiny hard pearl, then he licked harder, knowing how this would please her.

He was right. Monica began to shudder; she ground down on him, forcing his tongue deeper inside her. He could hardly continue so urgent and pressing was her climax. He knew that she was about to come and he no longer cared that she would climax across his face. It would mean that he had pleased her and that was already all that counted.

Monica’s climax was loud and messy.

He had experienced the female orgasm many times. The drifting lifestyle seemed to attract women so that when ever he’d stopped somewhere for any length of time he’d always found women eager to be with him.

Monica’s climax was quite outside his experience; whether it was the final release of so much sexual frenzy he had no idea, but it was almost volcanic in size and intensity.

He was swept along, flotsam in her pleasure. Monica was completely oblivious of his existence. She collapsed against him, breathless and utterly disorientated; she ignored the fact that her naked sex was now suffocating the life out of him.

Slowly she did recover but not before he’d given up hope and a creeping blackness seemed to be enveloping his brain. She moved just before he slumped into unconsciousness.

She left him shaking and whimpering almost without a backward glance. At the door to the room she paused.

“Emma will be here soon and you look a mess, clean yourself up!”

He waited until he heard the outer door slam shut and then he tried to move. Immediately his legs buckled and he collapsed onto the floor.

It was on his hands and knee’s that he painfully crawled towards the shower.

He turned on the water and sat, back against the cold tiled, allowing the luke-warm to wash Monica and her smells from his body. He also tried to recover, dreading how Emma would react if he was not ready and eager for her.

He had only just dried and dressed himself when she appeared and he couldn’t suppress the genuine shiver of fear. The girl had a definite cruel streak and Monica repeatedly harping on about the fact didn’t help.

“You took your time.” She snapped. She was standing in the doorway to the room, dressed in a top and short skirt, her muscle tone and power was obvious.

“I am sorry Mistress.” He tried to sound suitably humble and apologetic.

“Mistress! Monica has been efficient. Did you please her?” She asked sharply.

“I think so Mistress.” He replied.

“Think? Don’t you know?” Emma taunted. “Did you make her cum?”

“Yes Mistress.”

“So you know what is expected of you?” Emma demanded.

“Yes Mistress.”

“I doubt that.” Emma snorted. “Follow me.”

He had expected the bed again, but that wasn’t what Emma planned. She took him over to the padded bench.

“Lie down.” She pointed to the bench.

He hesitated, just for a moment and while he hesitated she struck him. Just the once but it was enough to send him crashing against the wall.

She didn’t even move, just started counting slowly.

“One, two, three, four, five …”

He was standing at six and lying on the couch before she had reached twelve.

“Nearly not fast enough.” Emma snapped. “I should punish you for such slovenly behaviour.”

“I am sorry Mistress.” He babbled.

“You should be.” She knelt down and secured his wrists and ankles on the benches restraints. She stood up, seeming to tower over him. “Monica gave us a very good report. She said that you already understood your position and that for a beginner you give good head. You should take that as a compliment, Monica is very hard to please, as am I.”

Emma sat on him, her legs dangling free and all her weight resting on his chest.

“Does this hurt?”

“Yes Mistress.” He admitted.

“Good, now just consider how it will feel when I am on your face.” Emma smirked, knowing by the look on his face, how much her words had scared him. “Well?” She pinched his nipples, twisting and turning them until he couldn’t prevent the whimper from escaping from between his pressed lips.

“Yes Mistress.” He moaned.

Emma laughed.

“This is so much fun!” She clapped her hands together. “I had almost forgotten what having a boy to facesit was like.” She was suddenly serious. “The last occupant of the room was a woman.”

He said nothing. There was nothing he could say and besides, Emma was holding a conversation with him. She was just trying out another type of torture.

“Doesn’t that interest you?” She taunted. “Well, you can answer.”

“No Mistress.” He replied.

“No what? No, you won’t answer or no, you don’t care.” She pinched his nipples again. He was learning that Emma had a very short fuse.

“Please.” He begged. “I meant nothing!” He continued to plead.

“You are nothing.” She snapped. This time when she twisted his nipples he screamed, the sound seemed to soak into the walls of the room. “Soundproof!” She laughed. “You could shout very loud and no one would hear you. She screamed and screamed before finally understanding what her role in life was to be.”

He couldn’t suppress the growing clamour in his head, he was terrified and this sadistic little bitch had him helpless.

“Please Mistress! Tell me what happened to her.” He implored.

“At then end?”

“Yes Mistress.”

“She works for the organisation.” Emma began mysteriously. “Which means she still gets face fucked, just not by me. I miss her; she fought me for so long. It became a real challenge to break her, and I did.” She slid right up his body, until her crotch menaced his face. “Now I have gotten very, very horny and you had better be very very good.”

“I will try not to disappoint you.” He whimpered.

“You will not disappoint me.” Emma retorted. “Now, did Monica smother you first?”

“Yes Mistress.”

“Good idea, nothing like having an ass grinding into your face, least not if it’s my ass and your face.” She clambered off him and went to the top of the bench, where his head lay. “I was the first to facesit you.” She chuckled. She climbed back onto the bench. “Take a deep breath, it’ll be your last for a long, long time.”

If Monica’s abuse of him had seemed extreme he quickly realised that Emma was the really cruel one. She was not content until he was actually being smothered, until his lungs burnt and his chest was ready to explode. He fought, oh how he fought, but the restraints did their worse. He couldn’t defend him beyond twisting and turning his torso and when that became to desperate Emma’s hard fist smacked into his windless stomach.

When she relented he was in no condition to please her, his head lolled to one side, spittle dribbling from his mouth, he coughed, gagged, felt his brain seemingly overheat. He was a wreck and still she wasn’t satisfied.

She still straddled his face, her tight, pantied bottom only inches from his crimson face.

“Look up.” She demanded.

He did so and she sat down again. He groaned as her weight spread across his face. It hurt! He hurt! Having a hundred and twenty pound woman on your face hurt. He wanted to cry out but her smothering rear stifled his cries.

It was then that Emma farted, loudly, into his face.

“Sniff that!” She laughed.

She lifted herself just enough to take the weight from his face. He was so grateful that sniffing her fart seemed a minor thing by comparison. She held that position until the last gassy vestige of the fart had been dissipated or drawn into his lungs.

He was afraid now that she was would return to her smothering. He wasn’t sure that he could take much more. But she left him, left him just long enough to strip.

Now she returned to facing him, her naked pussy was wet and eager for his tongue. He didn’t wait for her instructions. He remembered how Monica had liked him to suck, lick and kiss, gently at first and then more physically as her excitement had heightened.

Once more she straddled his face and he lifted his head, extending his tongue until he could slide it along the entrance to her clitoris. She caught of his hair and began to guide him to where she wanted his tongue and his lips.

When she came, unlike Monica, Emma’s climax was almost gentle. She pulled him deep inside her, riding his face. He was so close that he could feel her contractions against his face and then she cast him down.

Emma’s eyes were bright, her nipples hard, her skin flushed with excitement. She looked down at him.

“Very good.” She laughed softly. Almost the first human sound he’d heard from her, a few words that did not carry menace.

“Thank you Mistress.” He breathed. He wanted to smile but knew that it would only invoke her anger and he couldn’t dare risk that.

“One last thing.” She smiled and turned around to once more present her ass into his face. He thought that she was about to smother him and he moaned. The thought on being smothered under her naked body almost made him heave.

Emma pulled her ass cheeks apart so that the brown wrinkled ring of her anus stared down at him.

“Kiss my ass.” She ordered.

He caught his breath but didn’t hesitate, the last time he’d done that she beaten him. He kissed both cheeks and then her anus.

“Now use your tongue.” She demanded.

He did so, tentatively touching her bum hole, not knowing what to expect. Emma moaned softly and pushed back at him. He touched her again, harder this time. The moan was deeper and once again she pushed back at him.

She like it, more, Emma loved having her ass tongued. He had found what pleased her and desperately he tried to satisfy her. She looked so magnificent, so toned, so fit, and so dominant. She was right; he was here simply to please her.

He had never imagined that anyone could ever climax from having their ass tongued but Emma did, lowering herself onto him until he felt the drip drip of her climax on his face.

…………………………………………………………………………………………..

Emma followed Monica’s ritual. After dressing she released him from his restraints and ordered him to clean himself up. He fell from the bench and lay un-moving on the rubber-matted floor.

“Get up!” Emma ordered.

He tried. He was so weary, the long night, so little sleep and all that smothering. He hadn’t the strength to lift himself.

“Get up!” She repeated.

“I’m tired Mistress.” He whispered. He felt very thirsty and very hungry. When had he last eaten?

Emma regarded him for a minute.

“It’s just as well that Jackie and Caroline are getting re-acquainted.” She said disdainfully. “I’ll tell them that you’re whacked.”

He risked her anger.

“I’m hunger Mistress, and thirsty.” He waited but she said nothing. “There is no food here.”

“You get water from the tap at the sink. I’ll get you a meal.” She prodded him. “Now move, or I’ll assume you want more smothering. You look very tempting like that.”

This time he moved, not quickly, but managed to rise to his knees and stayed there until he heard the outer door close.

There was no cup in the sink so he used his hands. Just the cold water seemed to revive him and he didn’t care that the shower water was still tepid. He sat as before and just allowed the water to roll off her. He was still there when Emma appeared with a tray. She said nothing, placed the tray on the bed and started to leave.

“Thank you Mistress.” He called out.

“I told them. You have two hours, eat and sleep. They will come together.” She smirked at her unexpected joke. “Be ready for them.”

The food was nothing special, a heavy broth that was mostly vegetables, but it was warm and he was to hungry to care. The tray and utensils were all plastic; they gave him nothing he could use as a weapon.

After eating he laid on the bed, the silence was crushing but his exhaustion was overwhelming. He thought that he would never sleep, that all that had happened to him would prevent that, but he was wrong. He slept.

“Ten minutes!”

He stirred.

“Ten minutes!” The words were repeated.

He looked around. There was no else in the room.

“Ten minutes!” The words were repeated a third time.

“Please, where are you?” He called out. He sat up but was still no further to solving the mystery.

“You now have eight minutes, be ready for us!”

It dawned on him that they were warning him, telling him that they would soon be there and that he had better be ready for them. Hurriedly he dressed again, used the toilet, and then sat on the end of his bed and waiting.

“Two minutes.” The disembodied voice announced.

He still couldn’t figure where the sound was coming from, somewhere in his tiny room but he couldn’t figure out where. He was still trying to discover the speaker when he heard the door to his cell swing open.

“In here!” A girls voice demanded.

He trotted into the first room; both Jackie and Caroline were there.

“In future you will wait here.” Snapped Jackie.

“Yes Mistress.” Automatically he dropped into his subservient, dominated role.

“You have kept us waiting?” Caroline demanded.

“I was tired Mistress.” He whispered, he kept his eyes to the floor, afraid to make eye contact with them.

“So Emma said, and are you refreshed now?” Caroline asked.

“Yes Mistress.”

“Well we’ll see about that.” She retorted.

They took him into the room.

“Strip!” Jackie ordered.

He did so; his cock was flaccid but still showed the signs of his earlier erections.

Jackie rubbed his cock and it sprang to erection. She laughed.

“Not bad.”

She kept on jerking him. “Don’t come.” She ordered. “Come and I’ll send for Emma.”

He stood still and tried to keep his mind away from what her long fingers were doing to his cock. It felt so good and normally he’d have been looking forwards to his climax. Only now he knew that he couldn’t do that that somehow he had to keep his sperm inside his sacs.

“Please stop Mistress.” He whispered.

“Are you going to come?” Jackie asked.

“Yes Mistress.” He breathed. “Please stop, please.”

Only she didn’t, she drove him to the edge and then stopped, but only long enough to stretch him out across the bench, once more shackling him.

“Round two.” She laughed and started again.

Caroline came and smothered him, facing down his body; she trapped his face beneath her warm and round bottom. He cried out but once more his voice was lost beneath a girls behind.

Jackie continued to rub her fingers along his straining organ, no longer simply content to masturbate him, now she sought ways to tease and excite him, yet at the same time, keep his orgasm at bay.

“What’s it feel like?” Jackie snorted. “When all that white stuff comes out, does it hurt?”

“He’s a bit occupied.” Caroline retorted, wriggling her backside until his nose was jammed in between her buttocks. She raised her backside. “Answer her boy.”

He drew a breath before replying.

“Yes Mistress, it can hurt.”

“Enough talk.” Interrupted Caroline. She lowered herself and once more claimed his face with her pantied rear.

He lost track of time. All that happened was that Caroline’s suffocating rear would briefly release him; he would draw in a hurried breath before she resumed her seat and that Jackie teased and taunted his body, until it was slick with the perspiration of his resistance, of his determination not to come.

“I’m gonna take my pants off.” Announced Caroline as she dismounted. “Time he caught the main show.”

“Let me have a sit.” Jackie laughed. She released his cock for the time since they’d entered the room and he let out a sob of relief. It felt as if his cock had been rubbed raw.

“Be my guest.” Caroline guffawed.

Jackie moved minimally and yet immediately her backside was covering his face. He was so wore down that he hadn’t even moved his face in between the two women using him as their seat.

Jackie rubbed herself across his face. It hurt; all those hours of being smothered had had an effect on him. Only Emma had been rough, but the cumulative effect was taking its toll. He groaned inwardly and tried to switch off from the pain centres. It was just like when she’d been wanking him, keep your mind detached; try to forget where you were and what was happening to you.

“This is goooood!” He heard Jackie exclaim. “So goooood!”

It wasn’t for him; it was becoming a hell on earth. He was starting to wonder how he could keep the four of them happy. It was beginning to seem an impossible task.

Jackie moved, but only so a now bare assed Caroline could replace her. She settled across his face and he felt her oily, hot slickness spread across him. It felt as if his face was being sucked up inside her sex. He opened his mouth and his tongue darted into her, allowing her fluids to drain down his tongue and into his mouth.

He didn’t gag. He was already becoming used the taste of a woman, the salty, tangy flavour which invaded his taste buds and overwhelmed his senses until he was sure that the only smells, the only tastes in the world, were those that his captors presented.

The shock was the sudden realisation that Jackie was no longer torturing his abused cock, she was sliding slowly up and down it.

“Don’t come!” Came her disembodied voice. “Don’t you dare come.”

He had found Caroline’s clitoris, it seemed huge, huge and very hard. He used his tongue to tease it from beneath its hood and Caroline went mad. He concentrated on that, in bringing her pleasure, so much pleasure that it would drive from his mind even the terrifying prospect of his own climax.

Caroline came, whooping as she did, standing off him whilst showering him with her climax. She even fingered herself, bringing the very last drops from herself, and then she slowly fell away, landing with a soft thud on the floor.

“All yours.” He heard her sign.

Jackie did nothing. She seemed content to just slowly slid up and down his pole, her fingers playing with herself.

He tensed, fearing that now he could see and feel her that the chances of his accidental climax would increase.

“Want to come?” Jackie smirked.

“No Mistress.” He gasped. It did feel good, as if her body was now cooling the pain that her wanking had created.

“Liar!” Jackie snapped, she moved faster, the walls of her cunt seemed to contract, gripping his cock in a vice like grip.

“Nooooo!” He yelled. He bounced with her, trying to match each move, each twist or turn that she made. “Please Mistress.” He cried. “Please stop. I can’t help myself.”

“Really!” Jackie was just bouncing up and down his cock, her face was flushed, but she was laughing at him. “How about now?”

“Pllllleassssse!” He begged. He was so close to coming. He had fought the feelings, the sensations, that final build up after which he couldn’t help himself. He knew that he couldn’t fight any longer. He would come any second now.

Jackie stopped. One second his cock was wrapped in pussy, the next it was free, waving stupidly in the open, its head an angry purple, the veins pulsing.

He just kept moving, still so close to his climax that he couldn’t stop.

Jackie grinned at him and then pinched the base of his cock, pinched so hard that it began to hurt, and with the pain came the gradual realisation that he wouldn’t come, that this attractive and utterly callous young woman had denied him even that release.

Caroline appeared, her face still flushed.

“Jackie’s very good with dicks.” She laughed. “When she is finished you’ll stay hard and never come, the perfect dildo.” She ran her hand down his chest. “You should work out, get some beef on your body.” Then to Jackie. “Have you finished?”

“Yeah! I’ve had my fun. I think I’ll leave christening his face to another day.” She lent down and released him.

…………………………………………………………………………………………..

They left him alone after that, something he was very grateful for. He was truly exhausted, both mentally and physically. He was made to drag himself from the room, which was then closed.

He crawled to his bed and collapsed, oblivious of the mess he was, he slept.

The buzzer was loud and insistent. It had to be to penetrate his senses. Very, very slowly he came to.

“Food in ten minutes.”

The mention of food made him realise how hungry he was. He washed and dressed and was waiting by the time the countdown had reached three minutes. The need for food made his stomach growl but the fear of another day of torture and humiliation made him sick with fear.

The door opened and in walked Emma and Jackie. Emma had his tray of food whilst Jackie had a rucksack.

“Boy, you look a mess.” Laughed Emma.

He said nothing, simply waited to see what they wanted.

Jackie handed him the rucksack.

“This is for you.” She said and then turned on her heels and left.

He turned his attention to Emma.

She handed him the tray.

“I’ll be back in ten minutes, by then you will have eaten and emptied the sack.

Understand?

“Yes Mistress.”

“Good!” She turned to leave and then stopped. “Come here.” She ordered.

He took the step forward that was required.

Emma rubbed the crotch of his shorts, all the time keeping her cold grey eyes on his face.

“Jackie said how keen you were, and you are.” She smiled and then stepped back to look at her handiwork.

He stood there, tray in one hand, rucksack in another whilst his cock stuck out, instantly hard against the slightest of contact.

“Ten minutes.”

He ate first, the meal was porridge like, and once again his only eating utensil was a plastic spoon. It was warm and filled his stomach but that was all.

After the food he emptied the rucksack. There was a battery-powered shaver, a plastic beaker and an A4 sized plastic mirror. He looked at himself in the mirror and was shocked. He had felt sore, felt tender, but it was not until he saw himself in that small mirror that he realised that his face was a patchwork quilt of bruises, some purple and angry. When he touched the worse looking bruises he realised how painful they were. He also needed a shave.

He had done nothing else when Emma and Jackie returned, quite un-announced.

“Stand up.” Emma commanded and when he did so, she inspected herself his bruises, pushing against them, watching his reactions. “They’ll be gone in a couple of days.” Emma tossed a small tube onto his bed. “Rub that into your face, it’ll ease the bruising.”

She turned to Jackie.

“A couple of days?” Emma suggested.

“Make it three.” Jackie replied.

“Three it is.” Agreed Emma. She turned back towards him. “It seems that you have earned yourself a break, use it well.”

Quite what she meant only became clear as the day progressed. At first he slept, recovering from the punishment they had inflicted upon him. Then he secured the mirror to the wall, it came with sticky plastic tabs, and he shaved and applied the salve. It felt cool against the hot skin of the bruise.

He was almost relaxed; he felt rested, clean and for the first time since he’d met the mad bitches, in charge of his own life. It was only gradually that he began to fully realise his situation.

The first time was his call to his ‘evening’ meal. He waited as they expected only the door didn’t open, instead the tray was slid through a narrow slot.

The same thing happened the next morning and that evening. By then he was beginning to feel his isolation, his total isolation, dead emptiness of his cell. He shouted and his words seemed to soak into the walls. He hammered against the walls and door, but even his blows seemed to soak into the walls.

He gave up. The lights dimmed into his artificial nighttime but sleep eluded him. He exercised, working himself until he collapsed but still sleep didn’t come.

On the morning of the third day when they pushed his tray through to him, he called out.

“Mistress. Mistress.”

The slot closed. They ignored him.

“Mistress.” He screamed as loudly as he could muster. There was no answer. He ate his food, showered, shaved, worked out some more and then showered again. It helped but time seemed almost to be standing still, the harder he worked, the more he tried to keep himself occupied then the worse it became.

The evening meal arrived the same way. Its arrival had become the only break in his routine. This time he didn’t shout. He collected his tray, retreated to his bedroom and ate his meal in that overwhelming silence.

The silence was crushing. He lay there, with so much time on his hands he had little to do but think. It was pointless to reflect on his capture. He had been a fool, but how often had he accepted lifts from complete strangers.

The next day, at least he thought it was another day; he had no way of counting time, he was awoken by that disembodied voice that was the only sound he had heard in some many, many hours.

“Thirty minutes.” The phrase was repeated three times.

It took him a minute to respond. The food call was just that, this was his call to service. He scrambled into action. It could only mean that they were coming and that meant other people. Shaking with excitement he showered and shaved once more. He was determined to appear presentable.

He was waiting even before the time had run down to ten minutes, then he just sat and waited, each minute seemed like an hour.

“Five minutes.”

“Four minutes.”

“Three minutes.”

“Two minutes.”

He stood up and waited.

“One minute.”

He started to get nervous. What would happen if they didn’t arrive? What if it was just a meal call? He started to think of a million what ifs.

Then on time the door swung open and in marched Emma. She carried a simple plastic chair, the sort you found in gardens. She left the chair and then closed the door.

“Lets look at you.” She sat down and pointed to a spot before her. He went at stood there. “Kneel down idiot!”

He did so and then Emma inspected his face, pressing her fingers against the worse of his bruises.

“Does that hurt?” She asked.

“A little Mistress.”

“You could do with another day or so.” She sniffed.

“No! Mistress!” He blurted.

Emma’s eyes hardened.

“No!” She said very slowly. “You said NO to me!”

“No! Mistress!” He stammered. “I didn’t mean no, I meant don’t leave me alone again.”

Emma’s eyes softened, a sparkle of amusement entered them, and then she started to laugh. She pushed him away so that he sat back on his haunches.

“Wait till I tell the others.” She gasped. “Our little boy gets lonely!” She burst out laughing again. “Like having you face fucked?”

“I get lonely Mistress.” He whispered and hung his head in shame.

“So even having you face fucked is better than being alone?” She taunted.

Silence.

“Well?”

“Yes Mistress.” He said very softly.

“I didn’t hear you.” Emma threatened.

“Yes Mistress.” He said louder.

“Still can’t hear you.” She laughed.

“Yes Mistress.” He shouted.

“Better, but yes to what? I don’t understand?” She taunted.

“Yes Mistress. I like having my face fucked.” He replied.

She applauded him very slowly and then opened her legs wide, showing him the crotch of her panties.

“You know I told Monica that I didn’t think you’d be much fun, boy was I wrong. Your predecessor always hated me, even after I’d broken her she wanted to fight me. I could see it in her eyes. You, you, I’m going to make you love me. You’ll think that my farts are perfume, that my pussy tastes of honey and my pee is champagne. You’ll think that having my ass in your face is a privilege.”

“Yes Mistress.”

Emma raised a leg until it rested over the arm of the chair.

“Now come here.” She pointed to her crotch. “And pay homage.”

He came forwards on his knees, leaning forwards towards her panty-covered cunt.

“Press your nose against me and take a good sniff.” She ordered.

He did so, pressing his nose into the already moist fabric of her panties and inhaling the heady, sharp aroma of her cunt. She lifted her other leg onto his back and hooked it behind his neck, pulling him closer and deeper into the gusset of her panties.

“There’s a good boy!” Emma laughed, patting him on the head. “Big sniffs, you deserve to have a good lungful of me, just so you don’t get lonely before Jackie comes for her session.”

He heard a faint buzz and then her half whispered words. It was only then that he realised that she had a tiny mike on her top and a thin wire leading to her ear. She was talking to one of the others.

She realised that he might have been listening.

“Five minutes.” She said and then looked at him. “Where you listening?”

“No Mistress!” He mumbled into her crotch.

“I think you were.” Emma insisted. She grabbed hold of his hair and pulled his face up towards her. “Do that again and you’ll get a beating. What we say to each other has nothing to do with you. Understand?”

“Yes Mistress.” He cried. It felt as if she were pulling out his hair by the roots.

“Good.” She pushed away and stood up. “Jackie will be here soon, remember not to disappoint her, she has had to wait three days for your face.”

At the door she stopped.

“You can keep the chair, but I liked having your snivelling face looking up at me. I think I’ll have a real chair delivered into the room.”

She left him and he was alone once more, but it was only a minute before the door opened again and Jackie entered.

He had been sitting when, but when the door started to open he stood up.

Jackie walked straight past him and into the room; obediently he followed.

“Strip.” Jackie demanded without even looking in his direction.

He did so. He was conscious that his cock was once more half erect. What these bitches did to him was beginning to excite him.

“Over here.” She pointed to the wooden frame.

Jackie clipped him into the frame. He had his feet on the floor but each ankle and wrist was manacled. He was in the shape of a crucifixion, which his hands out horizontal from his shoulders. He was completely at her mercy.

Jackie wore the short top and flared skirt that they all seemed to wear. Each girl seemed to choose her own colours but he had realised that the styles were the same. Smiling, Jackie approached him.

“Shall we start all over again?” She laughed. She wasn’t expecting him to answer. She stroked his body; her nails were long and sharp and drew a thin scar on his flesh. “Nervous?”

“Yes Mistress.”

“Good. You should be afraid of me. Right now I decide if you breathe, bleed, laugh or cry.” Jackie’s hand drew its was down his body, the nearer to his cock it got then the more agitated he became. He also felt himself begin to stiffen.

When Jackie’s cool fingers reached him, he drew in his breath and then moaned as his cock hardened within her embrace. At once she started to wank him, long slow movements designed to draw out his torture. She kept her eyes locked onto his.

“I love doing this!” She breathed. “It gets me hot very hot!” She cupped his balls in her free hand. “When did you last come?" She whispered.

“I can’t remember Mistress.” He gasped.

“Not good enough!” She demanded. “Tell me.” She squeezed his cock until he whimpered through the pain.

“Last week … before, before you gave me the lift.” He gasped. He could feel the perspiration growing on his brow.

“Did you fuck or wank?” Jackie relentlessly pursued him, knowing how utterly she was in charge of his body.

“Wank!” He conceded.

“When did you last fuck? When was this inside a nice, hot and wet snatch?” She rubbed his cock until he pleaded for her to stop. “Why should I? You aren’t going to come, are you?”

“Please Mistress. I can’t hold on much longer.” He admitted.

“You haven’t answered my question. When did you last have a fuck?”

“Weeks ago. I don’t remember when exactly, but weeks ago.”

She stopped and then released his abused cock. He slumped forwards, only held up by his restraints.

Jackie released his hands and he slowly collapsed onto his knees.

“Release yourself.” She pointed to his ankle restraints. “Then I want you on the bed, face up.”

“Yes Mistress.” He gasped.

Jackie made no attempt to help him. She sat on the bench, singing softly to herself and watching as he struggled to his feet.

“Hurry up!” She called.

“Yes Mistress.”

He crossed the room on unsteady legs before sinking onto the bed. It was a relief not to be on his feet.

Jackie waited until he was still. He had automatically left his arms above his head; his cock was still hard, red with her abuse. She came over, adjusted the position of his arms and then began to smother him.

He accepted his fate. It was almost a relief not to have his dick tugged off.

She settled across his face, covering his mouth with her crotch and pushing his nose between her ass cheeks. She let his face take her full weight, feeling him shift and groan beneath her as she did so. She flipped her skirt up and over his face, falling across his eyes and burying him within a tent of her making.

Occasionally she moved just enough for his to breath but within his girl made tent there was little air and none that was fresh. He tried to speak but when he opened his mouth her crotch seemed to fill it as her body invaded his mouth.

He struggled for breath, he struggled for a release from her body, and she just squashed down on him. Oblivious to his growing desperation, his increasingly frantic attempts to free himself. He no longer cared whether they would punish him. He fought to free himself. Just like on that first night he strived to throw her off his body.

It was no use. She was too much in control, too well balanced to be dislodged. She had her legs across his shoulders and he couldn’t lever himself up with her weight on him. Slowly he felt himself wandering, starved of air, his body was drifting into unconsciousness.

He tried once more, expending the last of his energy and then a deep, warm blackness enveloped him.

“Wake up.”

The voice seemed indistinct, fuzzy. He felt a hand against his face but it didn’t quite register that he had been slapped. He opened his eyes, his head hurt, his eyes were blurred. He felt stiff and very, very tired.

“Wake up.” Snapped an irritated Jackie. “You passed out, that’s all.”

“Yes Mistress.” He slurred. “Sorry Mistress.” He struggled to raise himself but she pushed him back.

“Just lie there!” She was fuming; her eyes sparkled with anger. “Are you determined to annoy me?” She snapped. “No don’t fuckin’ answer.”

He quaked, recoiling from her anger. He wanted to apologise, to beg her forgiveness, but she wasn’t listening. As he watched she stepped out of her panties. He knew what was coming and so he steeling himself. She was angry and wouldn’t care how much she hurt him.

Jackie straddled his face. He started up into the yawning mouth of her cunt and then it descended slowly until she covered his face. He reached up, extending his tongue until he touched the soft, satin flesh.

Jackie moaned, she moved forwards, taking his face with her. She spread herself across him, smearing his face with her juices whilst his tongue jerked and sought to please her ever-moving sex. He tried so hard to please her, but she never allowed him to please her for long enough. She seemed content to simply rub herself against him. “Very good!” She laughed, slowing as her cunt hung above his face. He could see the lather of her excitement hanging from the fringe of her pubic hair, her open lips pointing the way deep. She settled down on him with his nose buried deep inside her. “Breath!” Jackie’s distant voice demanded.

He did so, drawing her sap into his throat through his nose. She laughed as he struggled with the humiliation and the taste, this way Jackie tasted so much stronger. It seemed as if the back of his throat was saturated in her hot, strong flavour.

“Again!” She demanded and he performed the task time and again until she decided that his suffering could end. She rolled back him, moving until she could take his cock into her drenched cunt.

“Never ever come.” She warned him