By Kinkabella
Archived Here With Her Kind Permission

Part 20 - The Horror Show Begins

"What do you mean you don't fucking know what is going on? OK, fine, let's play 20 fucking questions Who is Nelson fucking Smithfield?" My new owner's face screwed into an angry scowl.

"My boss. He owns the book store I work in. He said he was going to try to get me out of this," I said by way of explanation.

"Yeah, I can tell. Why was he so pissed at you?"

"I really don't know. I mean he was a little crude in the office and made some rather blatant suggestive remarks to me but I never did any thing to him --"

"Did you fuck him?"

"NO! Of course not!"

"Did you think he might want to fuck you?"

"No. Well, maybe. I don't know, I mean he would say things, but I thought he was joking."

"OK, your boss says he want to fuck you and you thought he was joking, right?"

"Well, yes."

"Oh, joy. Did he ever touch you on the tits or ass?"

"Yes, he did. More than once."

"Let me guess, you swatted his hand away."

"Well, yes."

"OK, well that's why he is pissed at you, he is having a mid life crisis and thinking with his little head. Let's move on to National Media Group. Do your store carry a lot of their products? They do a lot of the trash almost porn novels and romance works, among other things."

"Yes, largest romance section in the tri-state area."

"Did Nelson ever do any editing or writing?"

"Yes, he had a freelance editing position with some one."

"Probably National Media. That's why they know him. Between having one of their editors here and our just-this-side-of-corrupt Public Slave Office, -- that explains why they are setting up their shop of horrors here.

I felt suddenly mortified by the way he said "shop of horrors".

"OK, your husband... How long have you been married?"

"Twenty years."

"Any affairs that you know of?"

"No."

"Well, that explains that. Mid life crisis again, and some one waved a couple of young cunts and money at him at the same time. Meaning no offense, but you didn't stand a chance. Well, let's go see the freak show."

His explanation was cold comfort as I sat there looking into his face. I still had a dense mass of my own questions pounding their demands to be answered on the inside of my head. After a brief moment of nothing, and without saying another word, he tugged on the leash attached to my collar and I immediately stumbled to follow him.

He led me across a small, grassy park to an old building adjacent to the hanger where I'd been auctioned. From the outside, it looked like an old World War II concrete bunker constructed in the side of a grassy, earthen mound. Once inside, I was led down a long flight of stairs and through a labyrinth of narrow passageways constructed of clay brick before finally emerging into a very large, circular shaped room with a high, vaulted ceiling.

My blood immediately froze at the scene. Inside the room, if I ignored the presence of the video equipment and halogen lights on bright yellow tripods, I could have been looking at a medieval execution chamber. There even appeared to be dried blood caked to the floor and rising up in splattered marks around the walls. My stomach turned and I could feel my stomach spasming and convulsing in protest at the nausea I suddenly felt grip me. I deliberately forced my mouth to produce some saliva, just so I had something to swallow and block the bile I sensed wanted to erupt from the pit of my knotted stomach. A man in a business suit stood talking to a group of terrified teenage girls who could be seen visibly shaking and trembling as if seized in the throes of a fit as the man informed them in the most casual terms of their imminent, collective demise. My head was still turned facing them when my owner tugged on my leash and led me off to the left where a series of tiered concrete steps provided a sort of amphitheater view of the horror chamber.

There was several more men in business suits occupying the upper tiers of the steps and I noticed, but avoided making eye contact, my husband sitting at the far end of the lowest step and, separated by a few strangers in suits, Nelson. My owner sat in the space next to Nelson and told me to kneel on the ground between his legs. I glanced once more down the row of knees between my and my husband to discreetly observe his two slaves and recognized one of them as the feisty young red haired girl who has molested me in the showers of the remand center the morning after I had been arrested. Neither she, nor the other girl -- both barely looked out of their teens -- acknowledged me in any way. Nor did my husband, except to give me a very strange, almost smug look of self-satisfaction.

"Ok, start sucking me, slowly," my owner said as he freed his cock was his casual trousers.

I had a strange sense of deja-vu seeing it again and how I had sucked it less than twenty four hours earlier. I even recalled his insistence I be able to make him cum within three minutes and so I quickly bobbed my head forward to catch the tip with my mouth.

"Slowly!" he said. "Don't get too carried away. I want to see at least a couple before I blow off in your mouth."

The memory of the taste of his cum in my mouth was as fresh as the scent of the cologne I could smell on him. My head paused and I took a moment to just gently explore the shape and texture of his cock with my tongue.

"Say, Nelson, is it? Do you want her mouth after I'm done with it?" he asked.

The thought of having to suck Nelson's cock, especially now in the knowledge he had conspired to have me enslaved, sent an odd tingle through me. It was a tingle that strangely warmed me to the task at hand and gave me a feeling that, as cruel as it was for my owner to suggest I suck Nelson, it was no where near as bad as what Nelson had clearly intended to do to me. I heard Nelson's voice above confirming that he in fact -- did -- want me to suck his cock as well.

"You hear that? After I cum in your slut mouth, you move on down to him," my owner said to me.

I sucked his cock affectionately as if to demonstrate how much I enjoyed his cock. There was a vague hope in my head he might change his mind if I could convey this message to him.

"So, you want her as well there Mr. Jones?" my owner said, talking to somebody else beside him.

"That will be very nice, thank your Mr. West, I think I will," came the man's reply from past Nelson.

I increased my display of enthusiasm for the current cock, which I now realized belonged to a Mr. West. I struggled to remember his first name, which I had heard earlier back in the auction room but forgot to make a note of at the time. My head bobbed with long, slow strokes accompanied with whimpered sounds to suggest I'd love to suck the stranger's cock as well, but not Nelson's.

In the background, I could hear a man barking instructions at people. He was directing them to take various groups of slave girls to places near the execution equipment and making clear what he wanted from his camera operators. I immediately started to hum to myself in the hope doing this could blot out the mental picture of the scene that scratched at my mind's eye. It almost worked too until Nelson's new friend, Mr. Jones, started to speak in horribly graphic detail about the butchering and eating of women. I almost vomited right into Mr. West's lap and had to suck really hard and swallow lots of saliva from around his cock to quell the sickening swirl of bile in my stomach. The sound of young girls screaming and pleading for their lives reached such a fevered pitch that it totally overwhelmed my sense of hearing. I quickly tried to think of some other serene sound. Something that would block the blood-curdling noises of grizzly death. My favorite song -- Midnight At The Oasis -- sprang to mind and, while I couldn't get past the second line of sending any camels to bed, humming the words at least provided enough distraction to concentrate fully on Mr. West's cock. #$#Midnight at the oasis ... send your camel to bed ...#$# I hummed loudly and wished I could put my hands over my ears to hold in the melodious sounds I in my head.

I felt a hot splash of Mr. West's jism hit the back of my throat and I quickly swallowed it. I felt I needed his cock to stay in my mouth, like a pacifier, until all the bloodshed was over. Another large, slimy globule joined the first and trickled slowly down my throat in search of my stomach. By the third squirm, my stomach began to feel the warm glow of satisfaction at finally having something other than my saliva to feast on, and I continued sucking and swallowing as if there might be an endless supply of nourishment left in Mr. West's balls.

When he was finally spent, he dragged me to my feet by my hair and told me to turn around so as he could unclip my hands from behind my back. It took little effort for me to close my eyes and shut out the carnage I knew I'd see below, but I did catch a glimpse of a blonde girl kicking and screaming and trying to fight free of men who were wrestling with her.

It was almost a relief to feel Nelson's hand grab my wrist and force me down between his legs. The sound of the director barking his insane orders to his crew below invaded my head for a moment, but soon I hummed myself back to my the shore of my quiet, dreamy mental oasis. As much as I now hated Nelson, I dared not let that negative thought into my head lest it allowed other more unpleasant thoughts to seep into my ears. My head bobbed on his cock. I took hold of its shaft and gently masturbated him while my lips, pursed tight with an air-tight seal, glided up and down in a contrary motion to my hands. Occasionally, I'd press the palms of my hands flat against his crotch so I could swallow the entire length of his cock in my mouth. I sensed he liked this, so I did it again. Each time I buried my face deep into his crotch, I heard him grunt and felt his hips jerk up slightly. It only took four or five plunges like this before Nelson's cock erupted and gushed fluids deep into my mouth. His cum was not as solid as Mr. West's, but there was still copious amounts of it to swallow.

Once Nelson was done with me, I wriggled on my knees to the next cock in line. It was already standing stiffly at attention, and I quickly got busy sucking it. I glanced sideways and noticed yet another cock down the line next to Mr. Jones. Its owner's hand held onto it and was vigorously masturbating it while I passionately sucked on the one in my mouth. I held Mr. Jones' cock in my left hand and continued to suck him, but I reached over and took the next man's cock in my other hand. I cupped my hand over his bulbous cock head and squeezed rhythmically. Mr. Jones by now had grunted news of his imminent cum and I squeezed his cock and the one in my other hand tightly as it pulsed jets of his jism into my mouth. He held my head tight between his hands and his body began to thrash under my face until he almost slipped completely forward and off his seat. I was still swallowing cum and licking it from my lips when I heard my husband's voice approaching from the end of the seats.

"Mr. West, can I ask a favor of you?" my husband asked. His voice was shrill with sounds of excitement.

"Depends on what it is," Mr. West replied.

The cock in my right hand had already cum before I could finish Mr. Jones properly and my fingers were sticky and in need of wiping. I quickly wiped his slimy fluids all over my breasts and stomach and listened while my husband ranted like a madman about how much he was enjoying the bloody spectacle playing out behind me.

"I want your slut to chose one of my two slaves and then blow me while they snuff her?" my husband asked.

"Oh my god!" the voice of reason screamed in my head. "My own husband wants to be one of them?"

What he was wanting me to do didn't bear thinking about.

"Sure, you can, but understand, this is the last time for you to use her for free," Mr. West said to my husband.

My husband went off on a tangent for a moment before Mr. West told me to make the impossible decision.

"Ingrid, make a selection. Which one of these two girls ... do you want to have killed for your former husband's enjoyment?" Mr. West said.

I remained kneeling between Mr. Jones' knees and stared up at the two terrified girls. I could see the red haired girl shaking her head from side to side and mouthing words begging for mercy. The other seemed more resigned to her fate and, in some strange way, she reminded me of me. She looked so incredibly innocent and not in the least deserving of such a horrible death. I looked again at the red head girl. Her eyes, once a dazzling emerald green, now seemed dulled and bloodshot, like dark grapes set in pools of red jelly. Tears streamed down her face and yet I still couldn't quite muster as much sympathy for her as I could for the other, so I raised an unsteady finger up in her direction. Her fate sealed, she suddenly started screaming and cursing me and saying the most disgusting things about me and how little she thought of everything about me. I so wished she hadn't spoken to me like that, because it made me think less of her too.

Cameras had appeared around me to film things and while any display of overt satisfaction at what I had just done was the furthest thing from my mind, there was still the tiniest feeling of schadenfreuden for the girl I had condemned. I started to hum to myself again as she was dragged away to the pit below and I turned my attention to my husband's cock, now poised and stiffly ready to be sucked.

I latched my mouth onto his cock and mauled his hairy testicles, not out of any sense to please him but to try and treat him as badly as he had treated me. I even let my teeth scrape his cock shaft and might have bitten it clean off, except I knew doing so would only make an bloody mess of him and undoubtedly bring my own existence to an untimely end. In the end I didn't have time to even consider the thought because his cock spewed forth a torrent of his cum into my mouth. I gulped and gulped large mouthfuls of it while he called out his satisfaction. No thanks, or anything to suggest I had played any part in his pleasure. Just the raucous announcements of his own freakish delight.

Once he finished, I abruptly removed my mouth from his cock and pushed it away. I crawled on my knees back to Mr. West and snuggled up between his legs again. If I never had to look at my husband's cock again, it would be too soon.