Chapter 23
Tabitha's Big Mistake

Nate pulled his ratty Chevette into the driveway of Nora's new digs and parked behind a rental truck from whose wide-open back a couple of men and a woman were removing articles of clothing and other items. "Guess you ain't moved in yet..."

"Maybe not, but things are apparently well along..." Nora recognized the stuff on hangers going in the door. "Let's go in."

"You sure?"

"Daddy SAYS you're welcome. No time like the present to see if he's serious..." Nora opened her door.

Nate got out and looked around, just as a dapper individual in a grey uniform appeared. "Good evening, Sir."

"Uh, hi. You want me to move?"

"Not necessary, Sir. If you'll just give me the keys, I'll move it to the garage."

"Uh, okay." Nate, nonplussed, handed over the keys.

"Thanks, Jorge," Nora smiled.

"Miss." Jorge touched his cap and slid behind the wheel.

Nora passed a significant glance at Nate, "We've met before." Nate watched his car pull away, around the horseshoe driveway to a wing near the gate where a garage door opened. Nate was frankly amazed that they'd bother to park his beater indoors... "Come on," Nora prompted.

A black woman opened the door for them, admitting Nora with "Good evening, Miss," and looking blankly at Nate.

"Good evening. Can you point me to my new room?"

"Yes, Miss. Follow me, please." The woman led them to a room in what Daddy had referred to as the 'north wing' on Nora's last visit; from the sound of things, Mom was in the somewhat larger suite at the end of the hall. The Mexican woman who had caught such Hell the last time she was here was taking piles of Nora's clothing from the bed and hanging them in the closet, along with her daughter. The black woman murmured, "Can I do anything else for you and your..."

Nora took notice of something that Nate had been fuming about for some time; the woman apparently was in the process of assuming that he was a servant, or something. "That would be boyfriend," she simpered, "Or, more accurately, lover." She eyed the black woman sidelong.

Leticia was taken aback! Just exactly what Miss Nora was doing with a black boy trailing her hadn't been clear, but the answer she just got... "You aren't serious! Does Mister Wilson know?"

"I AM serious, and, yes, Daddy is well aware, thank you." Nora turned away, dismissively, and Nate stood there glaring at Leticia.

"I EXPECT that shit from white folk!" he growled, "but YOU?"

"Uhhh, sorry sir!"

"Shhh, Honey. It's okay. We're going to have to put up with that, sometimes, but I'm sure she'll never do it again!" Nora nibbled Nate's neck, while eyeing Leticia.

Leticia had seen that look before -- in Nora's father's eyes. "No Ma'am! No Sir. I'm sorry, Sir!" She got out of there.

Nate was still grouchy. "Why do I get that shit from a sistah? Jeezus!"

"Now, Honey. I'm not expecting the warmest welcome in YOUR neck of the woods. The good news is that we have control over it, here. It won't happen more than once..."

"Well, okay." Nate looked around; things were pretty opulent. "Shit, I can't compete with this!"

"Nobody's asking you to, Honey. This is as new to me as it is to you -- we'll figure it out. In the meantime, you and I have our own thing that this has nothing to do with."

"Well, okay, if you say so." Belief wasn't strong with him.

"It was my impression that your relationship with Nora had little or nothing to do with money," a voice rumbled form the doorway.

"Uh," Nate gulped. This was Nora's Daddy, in person! "Yeah... I didn't know she was rich when we met..."

"Neither did she," Armand pointed out. "She had been carefully insulated from that reality. Is it now, suddenly, relevant?"

"Well... It's just... I can't DO this!" Nate waved his arms.

"Not today, perhaps. Nora isn't so dazzled by the trappings of wealth that she can't do without. In fact, she has as little experience with them as you do."

"That's gonna change, though, ain't it?"

"The second part? Yes. The first? I hope not..." Armand's eyes bored into his daughter's.

Nora looked defensive. Without removing her eyes from her father, she enlightened Nate, "Getting all caught up in money is frowned on in Daddy's family. They don't believe in handing you everything on a platter. Daddy is where he is today because he had a couple of cousins who enjoyed spending money more than earning it. If I get too comfortable around here, I might end up living in a grass hut somewhere."

Armand chuckled, turning his attention to Nate. "See? You have potential. Let's see if you can actualize it. In the meantime, why don't you stick to the things that the pair of you have in common, and worry less about comparisons with someone twice your age?"

"Uh, yessir." Armand waved vaguely and moved off down the hall. Nate hopped from foot to foot for a bit, but Nora needed to get settled in -- they weren't going to get much quality time tonight. "I oughta go. You got stuff to do."

Nora sighed, capitulating. "All right." They headed back down the hall. "I'm not sure how I get someone's attention to get your car out..." She eyed an intercom panel in the hallway. There appeared to be one primary button... She punched it. "Hello?"

"Yes?" A contralto voice issued from the speaker.

"This is Nora. My boyfriend is getting ready to leave. Could you have Jorge bring his car around?" Was that what you said? Around?

"Certainly, Miss. He'll be right there."

"Who was that?" Nate wondered.

"No idea." Nora shrugged. In a moment, they were at the door. "I know this has been weird and strange, but look at it this way -- I'm going to YOUR house tomorrow..."

"Yeh," Nate managed a grin. "THAT should be a trip." They stood waiting a moment, then Jorge opened the door and walked in.

"Your car is ready, Sir."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome, Sir. Will there be anything else?"

"Uh, no."

Jorge nodded and moved off. Nate turned to Nora and, somewhat embarrassedly, started a kiss. Nora didn't let go, so it got better over time. He went back for seconds, and thirds... Finally, he sighed, "Car's gonna run out of gas..."

"All right." Nora hugged him. "I'll see you in the morning, then."

"Okay." Another quick kiss and he let himself out. Driving away, he wondered if he'd ever be comfortable in Nora's new digs...

People had come in while Sharon was in the tub, carrying box after box and putting other things like on-hanger clothing on the bed. The Wench had gone out to observe the commotion, and on her return had merely responded, "Your things have arrived," to Sharon's query. When Sharon started to get out of the tub, she forestalled her, murmuring, "Haven't enough people seen you naked today?" Sharon blinked and settled back.

A few minutes later, Armand stuck his head in the door. Sharon snatched for a towel, but he merely eyed her steadily until she put it down. "You are unharmed?" Armand asked. "I can send for the doctor..."

"I'm fine."

"All right. I'll have dinner sent up." He eyed the Wench. "See to it that she has all she needs to settle in."

"Yes, Master."

That was the end of the interview. Sharon soaked for another twenty minutes, then the Wench helped her shampoo and shower. Sharon felt she could have done fine by herself, but it wasn't going to happen, so... The Wench even got in the shower with her and washed her back, which made her vaguely nervous, but she was obviously avoiding anything sexual. When they re-entered the bedroom, it held a large quantity of moving clutter -- boxes and other loose items awaiting Sharon's attention. "God, I'm not up for this!" she complained.

"Then don't worry about it," the Wench said, breezily. "They're just clothes, mostly. I'm an expert at clothes." She started moving hanger-bound items to the closet. "Just sit and relax."

Sharon settled in a chair, but couldn't really relax. Eventually, they started working as a team, the Wench fetching clothing and Sharon arranging it in drawers and the closet. Sharon slid into a light robe, but the Wench's nudity demanded that she not act prudish, so she left it at that.

After about an hour, Nora stuck her head in the door. "Mom? How are you?"

Sharon looked up from a drawer half-full of underclothes. "I'm fine," she said tiredly. "I was better earlier, but then all this showed up..."

"Yeah, I had a pile, too," Nora agreed. "Daddy seems to be in a big hurry for us to settle in."

The Wench said nothing, but got a knowing look. "What?" Sharon demanded.

"Well, this whole thing has played into his hands," the Wench replied. "I'd push things as far as I could, too, if I was Master."

"Yeah, I guess." Sharon sat down. "I knew we'd probably end up here, but I figured to hold out longer."

"It would only have been more painful," the Wench counseled. "You have saved yourself trouble."

"The whole thing was such a surprise..."

Nora settled on the bed and asked quietly, "So what happened? Not the fifty thousand foot view -- the whole thing."

"These guys showed up, in a van with a plumbing company logo. There were three of them. When I came to the door, two of them were watching a third guy come up the walk carrying buckets. There was an older white guy, and a black guy -- I'm not even sure what the third guy looked like, because he had his head down. They said your father had sent them. I figured the people he had spying on us had told your father and he hired someone, so I opened the door. The white guy went through and I turned to watch him and the black guy grabbed me from behind. Next, a bag went over my head, and they tied my hands behind me. I tried to scream, but they knocked the wind out of me..." Sharon sat there, remembering.

Dinner showed up. Inez and a woman Sharon had never seen before -- a beautiful, light-skinned Hispanic woman -- brought trays of food and beverages. The Hispanic woman was in charge; she announced, "Please ring when you're finished, Ma'am, and we'll clear this away." The pair withdrew quietly.

Sharon eyed the Wench. "Why didn't they expect you to do that?"

The Wench shrugged. "I'm a specialist. In some ways, they probably assume I'm not skilled enough to be a servant. In others, they expect me to carry the ball. This is something they do that I don't -- unless you direct otherwise. I'm a... 'body servant'." She looked sheepish.

Sharon took a look at her tray -- salmon and asparagus spears and a rice pilaf. Not bad... The wine was one she'd had before...

"Do I have to wait?" Nora complained.

Sharon grimaced and took a sip of wine. "Oh, all right -- where was I?"

"The plumbers bagged you and tied your hands..."

"Oh, yeah. Well, I tried to start trouble and got a good slap for it, then tried to scream and got the wind knocked out of me for it. Things got kind of quiet for a minute or two, then they started dragging me around by the pants legs. I tried to fight, but one of them stuck his foot in my stomach and another one stripped them off. Kicking didn't seem to help me -- in fact, it might have helped them, for all I know." She stopped to take a bite of salmon, chewed, swallowed, and continued, "Somebody shredded my panties, which wasn't unexpected, but then they started talking about the merits of just killing me versus raping me first. It scared the shit out of me; I tried to scream again, and took another punch in the stomach..." She shuddered, and took a sip of wine. "Things got weird about then. I got a lecture on cooperation and they took off the hood and stuck these strange goggles on me.."

"Goggles?" The Wench blinked in surprise.

"Uh huh. They were special. They were at least totally blurred, if not silvered, every direction but straight down. That's the only direction I could really see in. The mirroring sucked; they took a flashlight and shined it on them and I was totally blind!"

"Then what happened?" Nora prompted.

"Well, they undid my hands and told me to get out of my top and bra, then they plopped me on a kitchen chair and started asking questions..." Sharon shook her head as the memories poured past. "They seemed to think I knew a lot about Armand's business dealings, and that we were a lot more cozy than we really are... When they didn't get anything much in the way of answers, they started doing things that hurt like Hell."

"Like what?" The Wench was fascinated.

"Trying to make my breasts two sizes smaller was a favorite," Sharon replied, rubbing her right breast. "Then they spread-eagled me over a table and somebody rammed a telephone pole up my ass, dry -- shit, that hurt!" She speared some asparagus, and chewed a bit, then, staring at her plate, said dully, "I wasn't any too brave -- I spilled my guts. But the problem was, I didn't know anything, anyway..."

"Nobody blames you," the Wench soothed. "You did what you had to."

"I guess." Sharon was still troubled. She picked at her asparagus for a bit, then went on, "When it became apparent that I wasn't going to be any too valuable as an information source, they started using me as a cum dumpster. I already had a cock in my ass; when the black guy shoved his cock in my face, I just opened up..."

"It's okay, Mom! What were you SUPPOSED to do, for God's sake?" Nora consoled.

"Maybe..." Sharon took another bite of her salmon, but to the two observers, it looked like she was tasting something else. "He... He made me vomit, deliberately, jamming his cock down my throat. I know how to take it, but..."

"I've had that, recently," the Wench affirmed. "If they don't give you time to get it under control..."

"He didn't. He seemed to want me to puke -- he kept jamming it in deep... I vomited into a trash can. He dragged around a glass of water and said something about kissing me later, and that now that my stomach was empty, there wouldn't be further problems, then he started shoving it in again. I couldn't fight -- the heaves had taken everything I had left..." She just stopped, her face a mask of guilt.

"What's wrong? C'mon, Mom, you aren't to blame for anything, here..."

But Sharon's shoulders began to shake. "God help me, I started to enjoy it..."

The other two rushed in. The Wench took the tray while Nora gathered her mother into her arms to hold her while she wept. "You shouldn't blame yourself for that, Mistress -- Master has been training you to enjoy the rough stuff for a long time, now."

"I couldn't help it!" Sharon wailed. "They rolled me on my back and I had one in my ass, and the black guy riding my throat, and then a third guy showed up from somewhere and started riding me... He was right there, making everything else good, and I just couldn't help myself! The black guy backed off and started playing with my nipples, and the guy in my ass came -- and I got mine, too, at the same time..."

"Shhhhh," Nora consoled. "It's the way you do sex. It's no surprise that you managed to enjoy it."

Sharon nodded, washed out. "It was just... so much... The guy in my pussy kept pounding... I forgot I was being raped, and grabbed the black guy and tried to swallow him whole the second time I came..."

Nora rubbed her mother's back, but she was somewhat shocked. Twice?

Sharon, now in full confession mode, plowed on, "The guy came in me, then came around and ordered me to clean him off with my mouth, but then the guy in my ass rolled me over and pulled out. The black guy circled around and slid into me from behind and started pounding away, talking wild trash about getting me pregnant. I was so fucked up, I believed him! I finished cleaning the one guy, and the guy in my ass stuck HIS dick in my face -- and there was no denying him! Gawd, that was awful!" The Wench handed her the wineglass, and she emptied it. "When I finished, the other guy came back, but the black guy bitched about having to take it easy, so they rolled me on my back again, with my head hanging over the edge of the coffee table, and went at both ends... The black guy kept talking about me raising his little bastard kids..." She shook her head. "He came -- and I did, too, BIG..."

The Wench, watching Nora, murmured, "Master has been training your submissive streak for a long time; that's just the thing you're trained to go into ecstasy over. It's no big surprise -- go easy on yourself." Sharon nodded, and Nora did, too, grateful for the reality check.

Sharon waved a hand. "That was pretty much it. They duct taped me to the coffee table, arms and legs taped to the table legs, while one of them kept shoving his cock down my throat. I was pretty much gone... They flashed a light in my eyes and took off the goggles, and the guy using my throat squirted cum in them, but it didn't matter; I was already blinded... Then they stuck a vibrator in me and turned it on, but I wasn't really capable of noticing, any more. I was wasted, but they managed to scare the Hell out of me, anyway, by sticking a lit candle in my mouth and another one on my belly. I couldn't move, and couldn't see, and if I moved wrong and the one on my belly fell over... Thank God it wasn't five minutes before Jason came roaring in with a bunch of guys behind him! After that, it was mostly embarrassing..."

"Okay," Nora said, "so why are we here?"

Sharon scratched her head. "Well, it seemed clear at the time... Ummm... Oh! While I was getting worked over, somebody went up to my room and fixed all of the holes, but apparently made new ones, or something. Your father said it was probably done to cover installation of other equipment, and that the house was compromised. He said that to put us in a hotel, he'd have to block off as many as twenty-seven rooms and man them all -- AND put a team in the room with us..." Sharon shrugged. "So I gave up, and here we are." She just sat there, not looking up.

The Wench caught Nora's eye. "Mistress is tired; it's been a long day for her, and this has been cathartic. I'll put her to bed."

Nora nodded. "Okay." She kissed her mother's cheek and backed out of the room.

The Wench rang for Consuelo and Inez to pick up Sharon's picked at meal, and turned back the bed, then went after Sharon's hair with a brush. "Here, want some more wine?" Sharon, totally adrift, took it and sipped distractedly, luxuriating in the impromptu scalp massage. When the others had come and gone, the Wench got Sharon out of her robe without demur and slid her under the covers. "Do you want me to stay?" she asked.

"No, s'okay." Sharon was far gone.

"Just ring if you need anything," the Wench offered, and swept out, turning out the light.

Nate went home expecting to have to tune up his mother's usual mess -- but she hadn't come home. That wasn't unusual, on a weekend -- Hell, it wasn't unusual, PERIOD. Nate, pleased with his luck, fine-tuned things and got ready for Monday. With any luck, Mama would forget and still be out when Nate brought Nora over Monday night...

Tabitha was out stalking her usual territory, in reasonably good shape. The dope at Julio's party hadn't been exactly premiere shit; as a result, she'd been mostly attached to the ground at the party, rather than flying. To extend the buzz, she'd hit the booze harder than usual, which seemed to do a half-assed job; she figured the lights went out about five a.m. Julio hadn't dumped her out, either, but had let her bag it on the couch -- but then Tabitha seemed to remember the chubby little spick going to town between her legs at one point or another. Well, it HAD been his party, and his shit... Tabitha's main complaint was that the bastard wouldn't wear a rubber -- but then, he'd be the only one, since all of her johns did... She was pretty sure he was clean -- Hell, she was pretty sure she was the only pussy he was getting! Well, if it brought her invitations to his parties, and a free source of shit, who cared if he was takin' it out in trade? Certainly not Tabitha! Any shit she got from Julio was shit she didn't hafta buy... And as long as neither of them came up with anything, the couple of nuts Julio might get off her was a lot less pussy work than she had to do to pay for shit from a street vendor. Maybe she should offer him the occasional sober freebie? Naaah, he thought he was gettin' away with somethin', gettin' her high and rippin' it off; doin' him sober might fuck that up... Anyway, she'd stuck her head under a faucet, chased her skirt and stockings down and strapped on her push-up bra about five-thirty (Julio didn't seem to mind the sag of her breasts, or the flop when she got going), and stalked out to go to work, rubbin' Julio's brush cut and talkin' trash about how great the party had been as she hit the door, (Julio looked like shit with that haircut, but it was his head, she figured...). He was lookin' all happy; unless he found another hole to tap, there'd be another invite, soon.

The weather wasn't great, but it wasn't awful, either -- just a bit nippy for her skimpy outfit, but that was advertising, after a fashion. Besides, she was still a bit disconnected from the sensations that caused an occasional shiver... Tomorrow, things would be different, but tomorrow was Monday, anyway -- a dead night. Some of the local girls actually lowered their rates on Monday, something Tabitha didn't believe in; how much it improved business was SERIOUSLY open to question...

A car came slowly around the corner -- a dead giveaway, as good sense said you wanted out of this neighborhood fairly quickly. Tabitha put on her game face and checked to make sure her bra was doing its job, then waved.

Sure enough, the car pulled to the curb and the window came down. Tabitha leaned down and sized up her catch.

Frankly, there was nothing impressive about him. He had regular features, thinning hair -- maybe forty. The look on his face said he was nervous and had no fuckin' idea what he was up to, so Tabitha readied her 'sucker' price list. The suit he was wearing said he could pay for it, anyway... "Hi, Honey. Lookin' for a good time?"

"Um, yes, actually."

'Actually, huh?' Tabitha chuckled to herself -- a sucker for sure... "Well, if you've got the money, Honey, I've got the time..." She opened the car door and settled into the passenger seat, reaching over to fondle the john's cock through his trousers, "What do you think you want?"

"Well, it depends on what things cost..."

Tabitha chuckled. "It always does, Honey."

Dumbjohn was perfect for his role. He was absolutely anonymous-looking, intelligent, and a consummate actor. He also had a vicious right cross; Tabitha caught it as she was preparing to present her price list. Things went black, and Dumbjohn drove off with his unconscious passenger.

Tabitha came slowly awake, draped over a sawhorse, her arms tied to the legs at the floor level. Looking around, she noted that the cement walls said basement, but the wood floors -- to which the sawhorse was nailed -- said something else. The taste in her mouth, the headache, and the sore spot on her arm said the punch wasn't all the john had used to keep her quiet. She couldn't see her ankles -- this side of the sawhorse had a hunk of plywood loosely nailed to it for some reason -- but they were tied, too. Of course, she was buck naked; that sort of went with the territory. The only open question seemed to be whether she'd get out of this room alive; if the john was just a hired killer, she'd be dead already, but there were worse things, and it looked like she was going to experience them...

The john came in, from behind her somewhere -- at least she thought it was him. There was no telling, since he was now wearing a mask. Well, it figured; what he was probably warming up for would be a lot more memorable than just sticking his dick in one or more of her holes. Tabitha tended to forget a john's face as soon as she looked away; she had regulars who were somewhat disgruntled by that fact. This guy, however, would no doubt be different... He came around and pulled her up by the chin. "Awake, are we? Good -- we can begin."

Fucker was downright conversational as he stepped off to the side, pulling on rubber gloves and digging through some implements on a tray... "Word on the street is that you've been pretty independent, and pretty lucky -- and you don't have a personal representative to look out for your interests. Tsk, tsk -- I'm afraid your luck has changed..."

Tabitha raised her head and glared at him. "You mean a pimp? Somebody to steal three-quarters of my fuckin' money and slap me around?" That apparently wasn't the smartest thing to say, because the fucker planted himself in front of her and proceeded to slap the living shit out of her a half-dozen times, rocking her head on her shoulders. Then, while she was still seeing stars, he shoved some kind of dentist's clamp between her jaws, ratcheting it open and racking her jaws in the process. Shit, this wasn't going too good... She was bent the fuck over, her ears were ringing, and now her jaws hurt... What next?

Whoever the Hell he was, the fucker didn't waste any time. He went back to digging in his instrument tray and came up with a couple of things, then came back to stand before her, "Raise your head, bitch." When she did, he put a hand under her chin, then brandished a pair of something that looked like steel cooking tongs before inserting them in her mouth and grabbing her tongue with them.

'Oh, shit!' Tabitha thought, but all she could manage verbally was a strained, "Eeeeehhhh!!!" He was gonna cut out her tongue! But she couldn't struggle very much -- she was tied tightly, and besides, he already had a firm grip on the damned thing! He tugged on it a couple of times to prove it, which hurt like a sonofabitch. Tabitha could barely see him through the tears the pain brought to her eyes. Then he whipped out a needle! a BIG needle! Tabitha didn't know whether to be thankful or horrified -- at least it wasn't a knife! But he made her watch it, all the way to her tongue, and "AAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!", all the way through.

He left it there, skewering her tongue through the holes in the tongs while he went to collect a ball stud. "I like my cunts to blow me with a tongue piercing -- aren't you glad I'm increasing your value like this?" he chuckled. "Of course, if I'm your last customer, it won't matter, will it?" Re-grasping the tongs, he finished pulling the needle through by pushing it with the stud. The procedure hurt like Hell, but there was nothing for Tabitha to do but endure it and him installing the bottom ball on the stud and twirling the assembly in the raw hole in her tongue. "Ookay," he announced, releasing the tongs, "time to make everything clean and antiseptic. You'll find that I'm big on that." He reached over to the instrument tray, collected a squirt bottle, shook it and began squeezing it, squirting the contents into Tabitha's open mouth. At some point, he made a bucket appear to collect the dribbles from Tabitha's open mouth, but she was entirely too busy trying to scream to notice! Jeezus fuckin' Christ, that shit burned!

"Like that?" the fucker asked. "It's my own concoction -- Listerine, some rubbing alcohol -- oh, and salt..." He produced a toothy grin below the mask. "Burns a bit doesn't it? But it's good for you -- sort of -- and entertaining to me..."

Tabitha was busy discovering that you can't spit with your jaws jacked open. All she could do was lower her head and let the fiery liquid run into the bucket. Her tongue was on fire from the assault! The fucker then raised her head and poured in a second batch, holding her head up so that she couldn't expel it for a few moments to provide full effect. When he let go and allowed her to drop her head, Tabitha had nothing else on her mind but emptying her mouth.

In a minute, though, he was back, with a garden hose. "Rinse time! I'm gonna stick my cock in there -- we don't want me bothered by cleaning solution, now, do we?" Holding her head up by the hair, he began shooting water from the hose into her open mouth. This wasn't pleasant for a number of reasons, chief among which was that he didn't seem to be too concerned about his aim; Tabitha took water in her eyes and up her nose, half-drowning as she tried to find an opening for her lungs that wasn't taking in water.

After what was probably a little more than a minute, but seemed like an eternity, the fucker let go of her head and shut off the water. Tabitha hung there, gasping, trying to upchuck swallowed water. In a moment, he returned with a collection of rings, which he checked against the opening of her mouth, spread by the jaws of the clamp. Tabitha barely had the energy to turn her head sideways to discover what he was up to next; apparently, it consisted of taking the ring he'd selected and mounting it in a leather harness, which he then threaded past the clamp to insert in her mouth and buckle behind her head. As he removed the clamp, he muttered, "I'm sure a woman as worldly as you is familiar with the concept of a ring gag? Can't have you succumbing to the urge to bite..." Producing a rubber stopper, he continued, "Most ring gags aren't gags at all -- they don't stop sound or air. I've modified this one..." He inserted the stopper, which had a groove around the circumference to seat it in the ring. Tabitha found that her poor, abused tongue didn't have the strength to push it back out, but in a moment it became frankly impossible as the bastard torturing her snapped a leather strap across the outside of it, one with a flat rubber cup that extended beyond the edge of her mouth in all directions and snaps that attached it to the leather straps of the ring gag at her cheeks. That mounted, he announced, "Okay, let's check for air tightness!" and pinched off Tabitha's nose.

"Uuuuuh! Uuuuuh! Uuuuuuuuuuuh!" Tabitha couldn't breathe! The situation was made worse by the instant panic that accompanied the discovery. Actually, she discovered that she COULD breathe OUT, if she worked at it, forcing air around the rubber cover -- but THAT didn't help AT ALL; it merely robbed her of resources that might have carried her a few more seconds. Breathing in was impossible; the rubber clutched tight against her mouth, creating a vacuum. She thrashed and screeched within the constriction on her bonds, fighting for air, for life...

Dumbjohn let up when she reached the point of semi-consciousness, allowing her the use of her nose. She hung there, lungs pumping like bellows, while he prepared to assault his next target. When she started showing some signs of awareness, he fixed her attention with the comment, "Oookayyyy, now that that end is clean, let's go to work elsewhere!"

Tabitha watched the fucker screw a cone-shaped end onto his garden hose in bitter fear. The way things were going, the chances that she was going to leave the room alive seemed pretty slim. What he was going to do with that hose wasn't absolutely clear, but she could guess... Speech, aside from "Oooo" and "Ahhh", was impossible, so she didn't try. The big questions were "What's next?" and "How bad will it hurt?"

Dumbjohn removed the rubber cover and the stopper from the gag. "Feel free to yell," he announced, "We're both remote AND virtually soundproof. That little exercise wasn't for sound-deadening, it was for me to enjoy watching you deal with the lack of any air supply..." Tabitha, panting, glared at him. Speech was still impossible; why bother to try? In fact, maybe she would just be quiet -- keep the fucker from enjoying hearing her screech. Yeah, why not?

Dumbjohn went back to his instrument tray, and picked up an enema syringe and a bottle of antibacterial soap. "THIS will clear you out," he taunted, squeezing the bulb and sucking a quantity of the soap into the syringe. "Of course, it'll make the cramps worse, and it'll cause you to spew shit all over the place -- and if I allow you to survive this encounter, your digestion is likely to be disrupted for a few days..." He shook his head dismissively. "Nah. Food and water would be a waste of good money. I can't imagine any of your worn-out holes being worth keeping you for..." He circled around behind her, then appeared to have second thoughts. Coming back around front, he lifted her head by the hair again, "See here, do you want to watch? Or would you rather just feel?" He watched Tabitha's eyes flicker while she thought about it, working on her with, "Of course, not knowing sometimes makes things more intense. There's the anticipation and the lack of other senses to get in the way of the experience..." He dropped her head and rolled a television on a stand to a position in front of her, off-side a bit, a few feet away. "I'm filming this for future enjoyment; you might as well get the benefit." He circled back around and palmed a remote control, clicking the 'On' button and rolling a thumbwheel. The TV lit and the field filled with Tabitha's ass as the camera zoomed in.

Tabitha looked; she couldn't help herself. She watched, as well as felt, the syringe tip penetrate her cringing asshole, watched Dumbjohn squeeze the bulb, and felt the soap squirt into her colon. 'Okay', she nerved herself, 'This isn't fun, and it'll get worse, but...' Unfortunately, she was a bit early in her assumptions; Dumbjohm picked up the water hose and applied the conical tip of IT to her sphincter. Then he turned the valve at the hose end...

"AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!" Tabitha screamed as ice cold water went shooting into her defenseless colon. The cramps came instantly and hard; only the fact that she was already bent over the sawhorse and tied tightly kept her from curling into a ball. The water just kept on coming; while it probably was less than a minute, it seemed like eternity -- Tabitha felt her belly swelling and hardening, and it was SOOOOO COLD!!!

Finally, her tormentor shut it off, leaving her writhing from the cramps and shivering from the chill of the water. Control wasn't possible; as soon as Dumbjohn removed the tip, Tabitha began to spew. But this had been planned for; just behind the sawhorse, the wood floors gave way to tile, and the shower area that Tabitha couldn't see, but which provided the hookup for Dumbjohn's water hose. The slop poured out onto the tile, and slid toward a drain in the floor. "Oooooh, we're nasty inside, aren't we?" Dumbjohn asked, but Tabitha didn't respond; her core body temperature had dropped to the point that she lost consciousness.

It took Dumbjohn a few seconds to realize that Tabitha wasn't conscious, as her body was automatically trying to clear itself out, but he noted the quiet and moved around front to check her. The woman was grey and cold, shivering. "Wups!" he grunted, and went around to the hose, where he set the faucet for much warmer water. "Can't have you crashing on me!" Again he inserted the hose, this time flooding her with water much nearer body temperature -- perhaps even a bit TOO warm. This time, he didn't go for a fill, either, but let up pretty quickly -- besides, she was running clean -- this was just a rinse... Tabitha recovered her color; Dumbjohn decided to step out for a bit, to give her time to recover. He examined her closely, making sure that she appeared to be stable -- after all, her wasted ass had been on drugs a long time, and might just give up and crash if he pushed her TOO hard...

Dumbjohn wandered upstairs to the kitchen of his cabin and made himself a sandwich, stripping off the rubber gloves and disposing of them. The cabin was located midway between the town where he'd collected Tabitha and two other fairly good-sized metropolises, and was Dumbjohn's favorite working location; while he traveled when called for, he liked to operate out of this part of the country, whenever possible. Sometimes it turned shipping a victim into a serious road trip to get here, but the facility was worth the trip in his mind -- although with a bit of imagination, you could make do with a lot less... It was about one a.m., and Dumbjohn was beginning to feel fatigue, but he figured he had another four hours with Tabitha before it was time to dump her. Not a whole lot of time to provide her with a seriously memorable evening... He collected a new pair of rubber gloves and headed downstairs.

Tabitha came to in the splash of a glass of water thrown at her face. She barely had energy to gasp; she was wasted, inside and out. Who'd have thought an enema would tear you up like that, inside and out? Shit! She'd fucking passed out! Musta been the cold...

Dumbjohn let her recover while he sluiced the mess from the enema down the drain, then turned a hand sprayer on her, cleaning her ass and legs. Given what he'd done to her with the original enema, he used warm water instead of torturing her with cold as he normally would. He'd definitely have to remember this incident; there would be times when he might want to repeat it, but in general, it was a mistake -- and one worth bearing in mind. Finished, he swatted Tabitha on the ass. "All right! Two holes down, one to go! That pussy of yours has just GOT to have some deep-down crud in it, as many times as it's been used! We'll have to scrub it a bit, won't we?" He clicked on the camera again, which gave Tabitha a fine view of his approach with a bottle brush!

'Oh, SHIT!' Tabitha thought -- but the gag kept her from saying anything intelligible. Instead, she managed an urgent grunt as her tormentor opened her nether lips and began jamming the stiff-bristled brush into her vagina. The grunt went right up the scale, too, as he began manipulating the brush, scratching, scraping and stabbing her inner lining with the bristles. Dumbjohn pumped it in and out several times, running it deep to bash into Tabitha's cervix, then jacking it back, twisting and rotating the harsh bristles in her defenseless vaginal passage. Tabitha tried her damnedest to scream her lungs out, face straining, eyes bulging as the brush ravaged her insides. Dumbjohn fished the brush out and exclaimed, "Oh, look! Pink!" Tabitha took one look at the monitor at the red smear on the white bristles and swooned a second time.

"Christ! The woman has no endurance at all!" Dumbjohn complained to himself. He'd seen black whores handle a whole lot more than this -- but then again, the ones he was thinking about had been a lot more robust. Fat bitches seemed to be better able to take a little torture than wasted, skinny ones... "Well, this'll wake her up!" He picked up a turkey baster, sucked half a cup of rubbing alcohol into it, and squirted it into Tabitha's vagina.

Tabitha awakened trying her best to scream. The pain! Her whole cunt was on fire! It burned and burned and burned...

Dumbjohn came around front to observe the effect. "Maybe I should take out the gag so you can scream properly? You're sure trying hard..." Obviously, though, the question was pure showmanship, because the next thing he did was to take off his trousers and boxers, revealing a decent sized cock -- nothing outrageous, maybe six and a half inches. He lifted Tabitha's head and announced, "Now that your holes are clean, I guess I'll try them out... Suck!" He pushed his cock through the ring gag.

Tabitha was wrung out and distracted by the agony of her abused cunt and ass; as a result of that, the ring gag, and the tongue stud, she really wasn't in the mood to give a blowjob. Dumbjohn endured her early effort, and grunted, "Either you get better, quick, or I'm going to make you wish you had!"

Tabitha tried. Given what had gone on thus far, giving the bastard shit wasn't exactly the brightest idea in the world. But the damned ring gag was in the way, and she couldn't do proper tongue action with the stud -- it hurt too much. Or at least she thought it did...

Dumbjohn rolled his eyes. "If I didn't know that your oral skills produced a major part of your income, I'd advise you against bothering to blow anyone. As it is, I have to assume you're just fucking around..." He backed off and wandered away, ignoring Tabitha's limited but heartfelt appeals for another chance. Actually, what she was TRYING to get across was a request for the removal of the ring gag and a sincere promise not to do anything stupid while blowing him afterward -- but he wasn't listening.

In a moment, the bastard returned, with a hammer and four HUGE nails. What the fuck?

It didn't take long before Tabitha found out. The purpose of the loosely-nailed chunk of plywood on the side of the sawhorse became obvious, too, as Dumbjohn knelt and place the tip of a nail on the middle of the drape of Tabitha's saggy left breast. "You can't say I didn't warn you..." Tabitha's eyes widened in horror, and she shook her head frantically, but the hammer descended -- and she got out a fine attempt at a steam-whistle scream as the bluntly pointed 16d nail plunged into her mammary tissues.

Dumbjohn gave the nail a couple of additional sharp raps to get it through the plywood and out of his way, then stood back to register the effect of his efforts. This was being filmed, too, from another camera angle; Tabitha's tear-stained face appeared on a monitor out of her visual field behind her and to her left, but the real thing was somehow more satisfying.

Tabitha didn’t faint again, but was suffering terribly -- it felt as if he'd ripped her tit clean off! Looking at it hurt her mentally almost as much as the actuality hurt her physically, and it was right in front of her face. Her face was a gooey mess of tears and snot and slobber from crying, pain, and uncontrolled drooling around the ring gag. "I warned you," Dumbjohn murmured reproachfully. "Shall we try again?"

Tabitha couldn't see how things were going to improve, so with a serious effort of will, she tried to get her tormentor's attention. "IIIIII aaaaaaaa ooooowww!" she wailed, trying her best to hold his eyes.

Dumbjohn cocked his head. "What was that?"

"Oooooowww!" Tabitha repeated, pushing on the ring with her tongue.

"You want the gag out? I don't think so -- you'd be tempted to bite. Of course, I'd kill you with the first thing that came to hand..." He eyed the hammer still clutched in his right hand.

Tabitha shook her head furiously, trying to impart sincerity to her impassioned,"Oooooooo... Uh uh! Eeeeese!!!"

Dumbjohn rubbed his chin. "You seem sincere..." Tabitha nodded frantically. Hmmmm, was it worth the risk? Well, if nothing else, he could let her beg... He reached behind her head and released the gag.

Immediately it was out, Tabitha tried to talk, "Oooh, tank oo, tank oo... I be good, I promise!" Slowly, she began to be able to talk. "I can't suck proper around that thing...

"Hmmph," Dumbjohn grunted. "Next you'll want your hands..."

"It'd help! I can't go anywhere, tacked to a board..." Tabitha realized that she'd gone too far when the sonofabitch torturing her got a speculative look on his face. "Uh, but it's not important. I've got my mouth -- that's enough..."

It was too late, though; Dumbjohn was thinking. "So, what COULD you do with your hands free?"

"Ummm, jack the shaft... Play with your balls... Some guys like prostate massage... The usual..." Why didn't it seem smart to get too enthusiastic, here? "I'm gonna be good! The shit that's gone down so far -- well, I ain't got energy to get stupid, and I got the message 'bout talkin' shit... I can get by with my mouth, without the gag -- promise! You'll love it!"

"Hmmm. I might like the options, too..." He tapped a fingertip on the head of the nail, something Tabitha cringed at, thinking it would hurt more, but it didn't, since it didn't move. She did, though, and that was bad enough... "But this isn't THAT big -- if you got up the guts, you could wrench yourself free..." He wandered off, leaving Tabitha wondering what was coming next and cursing herself for falling into his verbal trap.

In a couple of minutes, Dumbjohn returned, carrying a handful of wide, galvanized roofing washers, used to hold down tar paper. "These will do the job," he announced tossing them up and catching them. He then proceeded to dribble alcohol on them.

Tabitha watched, wondering how he was going to put one of those things on the existing nail, and why would he think he needed four? Then the light dawned. "Awww SHIT! I REALLY don' need my hands! Maybe I could jus' give you a rim job or somethin'? PLEEEEAAAASE!" But this last wail was uttered as Dumbjohn slipped a nail through one of the washers and placed it against the matching point of her right breast. Whack!

"AWWWWWWW!! GODDAM!! GODDAM!! SHIT! SHIT! FUCK! FUCK! AHHHHHHH!!!!!!" Tabitha had full use of her mouth this time, and the whole world knew it! Whack! "AAAAHHHH!!! JEEZUS!!!" Whack! "AAAAUUUUGGGHHHH!!"

Dumbjohn added to things by putting his hands under both sides of her flattened tit and lifting. "OGODOGODOGOD!!! NOOOOO!" Tabitha screeched.

Dumbjohn let go. "Guess that works..." He pondered the other breast. "This one is still a problem..."

Tears were raining everywhere. "It-it's fine, really! One like that is enough! God! Please!"

"I have a thing for symmetry..." Dumbjohn squatted down and began banging at the tip of the nail in Tabitha's left breast, backing it out.

"AHHH! GOD!!!" Worse than the pain of the impacts was the kind of squishy feel of the nail sliding back through Tabitha's breast tissues. On the way in, it hadn't been so bad... "I'm gonna puke..."

Dumbjohn blinked and snatched the bucket back over under her head just in time; Tabitha emptied her guts into it -- what was left that hadn't shot out her ass, anyway. That wasn't much, but the accompanying retching SUCKED since she ended up dragging on her abused breasts... Dumbjohn went back to rapping, and Tabitha hung there, moaning.

A few taps later, the blunted tip of the nail was flush with the underside of the plywood. Dumbjohn went and got a small block of two-by-four to give him leverage from which to pull it out the rest of the way. Laying it over the edge of Tabitha's breast offered a way to bruise the shit out of her and cause her intense pain, but Dumbjohn decided not to. Instead, he snugged the block up next to the abused flesh and pulled the nail with the hammer's claw. The nail made this sickening sound coming back out through the flesh, and Tabitha retched some more from the sickening feeling that went with it. Dumbjohn tossed the blunted nail in the bucket, and selected another, ringing it with a washer. "I assume that you want me to go through the same hole?"

Tabitha rested her head on her right arm, panting. "P-please?" Vaguely, her mind examined what she was asking him to do -- but it was better than the alternative... Dumbjohn picked up Tabitha's flattened dug and began trying to force the nail through the existing wound; Tabitha wailed, "Oh, God!" and began to retch again as the nail slowly penetrated her tissues.

Dumbjohn grunted, "Dunno if this is really working. Maybe I ought to just bang it through again..." But the point popped through, as he discovered that he could manipulate the slut's breast flesh to ensure that the entry and exit wounds were the same, even if the path of passage between wasn't exactly the same. He lined the point of the nail up with the existing hole and pounded it through. By this time, Tabitha barely managed to do more than moan pitifully -- she lacked the energy to scream. The nail went in easier than on the last pass; Dumbjohn wondered aloud, "Maybe I should toenail it?"

"Noooo!!! God! God!" Tabitha wailed. Dumbjohn forbore, not necessarily because of her entreaties, but because the points, sticking straight out, would be more of a problem to her, later. A tug on the breast in question caused wails, but no movement of the nail. He reached down and untied the ropes holding Tabitha's arms to the legs of the sawhorse. Then he made certain that nothing she could use to assist her in her predicament was nearby.

Dumbjohn stood up. God himself wouldn't get much of a blowjob out of her right now. Best to let her settle for a few minutes. "I'm going to go get a drink." He unscrewed the cap on his squirt bottle of the mouthwash-alcohol-salt mixture and put it near Tabitha's right hand, which hadn't moved appreciably since its release. "Rinse your mouth with that. I'm not sticking my dick into a vomitorium. If your breath isn't sweet when I come back, I'll use the hose on your upper end!" Tabitha nodded feebly, and Dumbjohn reached up and delivered a ringing swat to her ass, "That's Yes, Sir, slut!"

"Yessir!" Tabitha managed to drag her head up. "Yessir!" she repeated dully, and her head flopped back.

Dumbjohn shook his head. If Rodday didn't want her back on the street so soon, it might have been fun to teach the feisty bitch discipline -- but he only had a few hours with this one; Rodday wanted her back on the street, one way or another. The jury was still out on whether she'd be breathing... She was toast. Time to go get that drink, and let her get used to her various injuries... He headed upstairs without making any further comment.

Once upstairs, he turned on his monitor in the kitchen. He had full coverage of his 'slave pens'; generally, he recorded everything, and in any case, surveillance was a big part of keeping a slave or other victim in line. This bitch (Dumbjohn forgot her name) definitely came under the heading of 'other victim' -- Dumbjohn couldn't imagine a white slaver who would want her wasted ass. If he was making a slave, Dumbjohn preferred young runaways; virginity could be highly prized, but in general, his customers preferred docility and encyclopedic knowledge of methods of inducing sexual pleasure. Young runaways gravitated to amateur prostitution to live, which usually brought a fine case of low self-esteem that Dumbjohn could use to his benefit during training. Their amateurism also made them easy to catch...

He sipped a bottled water and watched Tabitha begin feebly moving around. The breast-nailing thing had proven to be major entertainment; next time he was hired to torture a woman, he'd have to repeat it. Slaves generally sold better without a lot of scars and marks -- especially on the tops of their breasts -- but a torture victim, especially one to be disposed of quietly after, imposed no such limitations.

The end of Dumbjohn's break was signaled when Tabitha fumbled for the squirt bottle, almost spilling it, and brought it to her lips. He watched her swish the mixture around in her mouth, grimacing at the pain it brought to her piercing, and spit it out, then go for another. Bitch was game -- you had to give her that... Dumbjohn sucked down the last of the water, shut of the TV, and hit the stairs. Three hours to go...

Tabitha was just finishing her third rinse when the sounds of his entrance alerted her to her tormentor's presence. She spat in the bucket and looked up at him. Her tits still hurt like Hell, and she was uncomfortable from her position, invasions in her ass and her cunt, and other indignities, but things had settled a bit, and she DAMNED SURE didn't want this bastard to come up with anything ELSE to punish her for poor performance. "Feeling better?" he asked, mock-solicitously.

"Uuuh, sorta. Used to it, maybe..." she grunted, wondering if she'd just triggered another round of torture.

"Ready to show me what a world-famous cocksucker you are?" Dumbjohn taunted.

"Uh huh," Tabitha kept it simple. "Ummm, I'm kinda messy..."

THAT was an understatement. Her face was coated in tears and snot above her mouth; add slobber below. Much had dripped onto her tits, to mix with the blood from the nail punctures, and even her arms -- basically, her whole upper half was covered with secretions. Dumbjohn pondered this; he could hose her off, but that would just make her dripping wet and slow things down... He went to the side of the room and collected a towel and, on second thought, a washcloth, which he wet in warm water. He handed her the washcloth. "Here. Wash. First thing you've done right -- well, maybe the second..." Tabitha rubbed her face in silence, then did her arms and neck, finishing with her bloody tits. Dumbjohn took the washrag and dropped it in the slop bucket, then handed her the towel. "Don't bother with THEM," he admonished, pointing at her breasts. "You're gonna slobber all over them again, anyway, and I don't want a bloody towel." Tabitha took note of this, and what it meant. Her ass was still dead, probably. Well, she was still alive, for now; maybe... She did as she was told, and returned the towel. He tossed it aside, "Ready?" Tabitha nodded, bracing herself up with one hand. Dumbjohn bored in, and Tabitha took it. He was just long enough to lodge in her throat, but that was okay; she was gonna give him the blowjob of his life is she choked to death doing it... Ewww, poor choice of thought... She wished she wasn't so dry; it would be better if she had more saliva to lather him up with. Well, pulling him into her throat would help start the spit machine... She wrapped her thumb and forefinger around the base of his cock and worked him deep, then backed off and corkscrewed her mouth around his shaft. Her full lips felt wonderful, and the tongue work...

The tongue work wasn't a lot of fun for Tabitha, because of her new tongue piercing, but she worked with it; she did NOT want to piss this sonofabitch off any more than necessary... She milked his shaft with her hand, following her tightly ovalled lips and imparting the illusion of penetrating a tight sheath to him. Thank God he was uncircumcised -- that meant that her hand was moving the foreskin back and forth instead of trying to slide comfortably on the layer of her spit on the shaft. She couldn't rise up much; having her tits tacked to the board limited her movement. Dumbjohn wasn't comfortable, but, to be fair, it wasn't her fault... He backed off and she whined, "What? I was doin' my best!"

Dumbjohn said nothing, but rather went off to the side to collect a low, padded stool to kneel upon. When he came back, Tabitha's relief was palpable. She took him back in and began cradling his balls, working her thumb along the tufts of hair at the base of his shaft. Dumbjohn was frankly amazed; this was one of the best blowjobs he could remember. He'd planned to hold onto her head and choke-fuck her, but the corkscrew thing she was doing with her mouth was sooooo good... In no time, his balls began to simmer; he rode with it until he was on the verge of the point of no return, then abruptly withdrew, squeezing the base of his cock to keep from ejaculating. "Okay," he panted. "That was damned good..." He circled around behind her. "Now for some pussy..." He stopped and put on a rubber, both for protection and to distance him from the sensations of his recent near orgasm. Tabitha's nether lips were bloody from the bottle-brush episode, and Dumbjohn was going to capitalize on his earlier effort, something not to Tabitha's benefit... "That twat has had a lot of mileage, and even the cleaning I gave it earlier doesn't guarantee I'm safe in it, sooo..." Dumbjohn sucked up another turkey baster-load of alcohol and squirted it inside Tabitha's defenseless twat.

"AIIIIEEEEEE!!!! AAAUUUUUGGGHHHH!!!" Tabitha's vagina, a mass of cuts and abrasions from the brush, was a font of agony. Dumbjohn didn't allow her time to recover, but began nosing his rubber-clad cock between her labia while she was still screeching and thrashing. "YOU BASTARD!" Tabitha screeched, pain leaching all control from her. "You sonofabitch! Oh, GAWD, it hurts! Aaaaahhhhhhh!!!"

Dumbjohn, actually perversely tickled by Tabitha's outburst, socketed himself and began to pump. "You better work that street-educated twat, bitch, or that's just a taste of things to come!"

Only the fact that she was used to dealing with the extra friction generated by a rubber made the whole thing approach being tolerable, but the sonofabitch struck a chord in her. Okay, her pussy felt like he was shoving around ground glass in there, but it wouldn't be the first time she'd worked when it hurt -- she was a professional, by fuckin' God! Putting some effort into it she got the thing moving; she clenched, she pulsed, she rose to meet him as best she could, given her predicament. She couldn't manage the proper happy noises, but since the rat bastard was torturing the fuck out of her anyway, he probably didn't want to hear them... "Jeezus, that fuckin' hurts! C'mon, you sorry sumbitch, get your jollies! You cut the motherfucker up, but even YOU gotta admit it's good shit! Cum, you bastard! Aaaahhh! Damn!"

Dumbjohn had to admit she was worth the ride. She might be a burnt-out doper, but that pussy of hers was a well-oiled machine! And the noises she was making? Well, they DID kind of tickle his sadistic side... As many dicks as had been in that thing, you'd think you could drive a tank into it, but it was clutching and pulsing and gyrating... Orgasm sneaked up on Dumbjohn like it had on countless numbers of Tabitha's other customers, and he grunted and poured his seed into the rubber in pulsing gouts; Tabitha saw to it that each one got an echoing clasp from her channel. Maybe she could empty him out in one pass...

Dumbjohn backed out, gasping, and pulled off the rubber. "You may be a two-dollar whore, but at least you're WORTH the two dollars."

"I'm a FIFTY dollar whore!" Tabitha grated through the pain. "For stupid muthafuckahs, I'm a HUNNERD dollar whore! Fuckin' two dollars..." Anger gave her a defense against the pain, and she used it, panting.

Dumbjohn laughed and came around front. "Awright, shut up and suck! Get me ready for round two!"

"Shit," Tabitha grumbled under her breath. She'd kind of hoped he'd not be capable of a second pass... Fucker had big balls, though. She cradled them in her left hand and went to work, cleaning the leftover goo off him as she vacuumed him in.

It took a bit of work; the fucker was well on his way to being limp when he presented the thing for service, so she had to coddle it to get it going again. After a couple of minutes, it began to re-surge; as it stiffened, she challenged it with more action and more friction, going deep, and corkscrewing the head, pumping the shaft. In five minutes, it was full-size, hard, and throbbing; Dumbjohn let her bring him a good distance along, because the next penetration would be tougher...

"All right, it's time to sample that last hole," Dumbjohn announced, pulling back. He went to the tray and collected a rubber and a jar. He put the rubber on and pumped a few times to keep things going, then dipped into the jar to wipe the goo on the tip, not taking it too far. Then he took another dollop and started feeding it through Tabitha's sphincter.

Tabitha knew what was coming, and tightening up wouldn't help it, so she cooperated, flowering open her anus for his probing finger. After all, he was lubing her up...

Dumbjohn snatched a towel and wiped off his hands; in that three seconds, Tabitha discovered she'd been had! "Goddamn! That shit burns! What the fuck have you done THIS time!" she screeched.

"I had some Ben-Gay laying around -- thought it might make a good lubricant," Dumbjohn chuckled, nosing his cock against her now cringing sphincter. "I didn't want you to get loose and sloppy!"

'Well, he's managed THAT!' Tabitha thought distantly as she ranted and raved to the burning pain. Her asshole burned like fire, and as a result, she couldn't unclench it, consciously...

The silly bitch was screaming and crying and having a fit, but despite the instinctive desire to keep him out, her asshole was too well educated to totally deny him access, so Dumbjohn slowly sank his length into her, spreading the 'lubricant' to new tissues and adding to the fire. He held onto the towel, and didn't go TOO deep; he didn't want that stuff flowing back over the rubber to his cock shaft, after all... When he was in as deeply as he figured was safe, he tied a rag around the base of his cock and started pumping. It was HOT in there; the Ben-Gay was warming things above their already cozy normal temperature, adding to his pleasure while extending her pain. Tabitha's squalls were music to his ears, giving him an added incentive to pound away, carried away by the pleasure, both physical and sadistically mental.

Tabitha had lost it; this latest attack was too much, and sanity slipped away while she screamed and cried and ranted imprecations that weren't even words. Pain clamped her tight, everywhere, and that led to muscle cramps and Charlie-horses, adding to her agony. Then everything went black...

When everything but her asshole went slack, that was the final trigger; Dumbjohn came, spurting into a rubber for the second time in twenty minutes. 'Pretty amazing', he thought. 'I need to train slaves to this standard...' He backed off, carefully cleaning up to avoid getting any ointment on him, and got back into his underwear and trousers. By the time he'd finished that and put on a new pair of rubber gloves, Tabitha was moaning her way toward consciousness.

Picking up the ring gag, he re-mounted it before Tabitha had her wits about her, then, checking the time, began planning next steps. Dumbjohn enjoyed piercings; he enjoyed the look of them, and he enjoyed doing them -- creating that look of shocked pain in a slave while she was being marked forever, provided with sensitive locations from which she could be led and controlled. This cunt was a lot of fun; under other circumstances, he'd have pierced her labia multiple times, then sewed her cunt shut with a nice finger of peeled, aged ginger inside. But the clock was ticking, so Dumbjohn would have to settle for quicker things... Those dugs of hers were an obvious target...

Tabitha swam slowly up to consciousness -- and wished she'd stayed out. Her ass still burned, her pussy felt like raw hamburger, her skewered tits throbbed, her tongue... Shit, the list was endless! Add muscle cramps from tension and her position, and she was barely holding on -- and here he came again!

Dumbjohn took Tabitha's wrists and re-bound them to the sawhorse legs, one by one. She tried to struggle a bit at first, but in her predicament, she'd have never won when fresh, and she was FAR from THAT! "All right," he announced, "now that I've enjoyed all of your holes, we can move on and add a few touches to improve your presentation." He wandered over to his instrument tray and began digging around. "I thought about it while you were out and decided that you really ought to bow to fashion and get nipple rings. Since you obviously haven't the nerve to do it yourself, I've decided to handle the hard part for you..." He turned toward her with a large needle in one hand -- the one he'd used on her tongue or its evil twin -- and an alcohol swab and a cork in the other.

He knelt to swab Tabitha's left nipple and Tabitha decided to try a line of moderate resistance. Watching him with slightly bulging eyes, she shook her head emphatically. Dumbjohn merely grinned. Since that failed, she tried to make herself understood around the ring gag, "Aw, co ah, eeeee oh!" ('Aw, c'mon, please, no!'). Dumbjohn blew on the nipple and manipulated it a bit, and it betrayed her, extending from her crinkling areola. Tabitha's nipples hadn't really been able to go totally flat since she nursed Nate, and in general, it had been a drawing card; fear and the cool wash of air produced exactly the effect that Dumbjohn wanted, much to Tabitha's despair. Dumbjohn dropped the wipe in the slop bucket and set the cork next to the exposed bud, "Oh, oh, ee!" ('No, no, please!'), aligned the needle for penetration, "Iii, o OO ii!" ('Shit, don't DO this!'), and jammed it through, "AAAAAUUUGH! SIIII!" ('AAAAUUUGH! SHIIIT!').

Dumbjohn placidly centered the large needle in the wound so that equal amounts of steel poked from both sides of the wounded bit of gristle while Tabitha tried her damnedest to impart the concept of "muthafuckin' sumbitch" past the ring gag. It was a pretty decent piercing job, probably because the silly bitch couldn't flinch... "My, we're noisy!" He got up and put in the rubber stopper and snapped the flat rubber cover into place over it. Next, he turned to his tray and selected another needle and another wipe. Tabitha's eyes bulged, and Dumbjohn grinned, "I TOLD you I had a thing for symmetry!"

This time he played with her, watching her eyes and listening to the muffled "MMMMMM! MMMMM!" noises that were all the gag would pass. The nipple popped right up, just as the other one had, and perhaps even exceeded the other's growth while he teased and played with it, wiping it and blowing on the alcohol and manipulating it between his fingers. He'd set the needle and barely prick her with it, watching her sweat while her eyes bugged and muffled wails escaped the gag. Finally, he went ahead, but slowly this time, forcing it past the tissues while Tabitha screamed twice through the gag. Finished, he stepped back. "That's nice, don't you think?" He chuckled; whatever the silly bitch was trying to force past the gag, agreement wasn't a component of it. He glanced at his watch. Time was flying, and he had one final bit of detailing he wanted to attend to...

Tabitha's nipples burned like fire. What was it with this bastard? How long was this going to go on? Some things he did obviously because he wanted her to hurt; for others, that seemed secondary... Did that mean she was gonna live through this? To be what? Somebody's slave bitch? He'd done his damnedest to bust her ass and her pussy, but he'd stuck that thing in her tongue... If she was gonna live, whoever he gave her to was gonna have to stick to blowjobs for a while -- shit, her pussy might be busted PERMANENTLY! Oh, Lordy! What was he gonna do NOW?

The last item on Dumbjohn's agenda, which was gilding the lily, actually, was to take two rubber bands and loop them over the embedded needles, then stretch them down to the bottom edge of the plywood and back up to loop over the ends of the nails piercing Tabitha's tits. Tabitha started screaming bloody murder instantly, but the gag muffled things quite a bit. Dumbjohn stood and contemplated her for a bit; the bitch wasn't calling him names -- apparently she didn't have resources left to do that with. Instead, it appeared to be one long, wordless scream, punctuated by short pauses while she sucked in air for the next outburst. You could see the whites of her eyes all the was around the pupils, and every vein in her face and neck, not to mention the cords and tendons there... "Hmmmm. That's gotta hurt..."

It sure did! Tabitha was 'WAY beyond rational thought! Her nipples were being torn out at the roots! It went on and on and on...

... Until Dumbjohn stepped up and murmured, "Now it's time to say goodbye..." and pinched off her nose again. Tabitha didn't hear him; she didn't even FEEL him, initially, but suddenly there was no more air to scream with. After only a moment's futile struggle, blackness closed in.

Dumbjohn didn't kill her. He and Rodday had agreed that if possible, it was better to return her to the street to tell her tale than to just leave her spectacularly dead. Once she was unconscious, he injected her with an agent that would maintain her state while he returned her to town and began cleaning things up. He pulled the loose nails that held the plywood to the sawhorse -- she'd be taking THAT with her -- then undid her and laid her out on the floor on her back while he washed away most of the evidence and incinerated the rest. Tabitha's 'brassiere' made the return trip in the car impractical, so he brought around the unmarked white van he used when more privacy was required and loaded her into it. At four forty-five in the morning, he wheeled into an alley around the block from Tabitha's normal stomping grounds, laid her out in it next to a dumpster and drove off. There were no witnesses.