Caveat lector.

 

If you don't like sex stories, don't read it.

If you don't like stories about sex with underage children, don't read it.

If you don't like stories bout forced sex, don't read it.

If you are below the arbitrary age set for your area, don't read it.

If for any reason it is illegal for you to read this story, don't read it.

 

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http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/normdeploom/

 

Copyright © 2003 Norm DePloom.  ALL Rights Reserved

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author.  This story may be freely distributed with this notice attached.  The author may be contacted at 'MyStories at normdeploom dot com'

 

All the characters and events in this story are fictional; any resemblance to real people or events is entirely coincidental.

 

The Witness

(Being part five of a continuing story of non-consensual sexual slavery.)

 

By

Norm DePloom

 

After having my cock in her mouth and her cunt, I finally asked the clerk what her name was.  She told me her name was Jasmine, although I got the impression that it was not the name given to her by her parents.  At Jasmine's suggestion I purchased two fairly thick titanium barbells to go into the nail holes I'd already put in the slave's nipples, and two smaller titanium rings to go into two more traditional piercings at the base of her nipple where it attached to the areola. 

 

"You know," Jasmine told me, as I was picking up my small plastic bag getting ready to leave, "you wouldn't necessarily have to pay me with money to pierce your slave."

 

"How would you like to be paid?"  Jasmine moved closer and, even though there was no one else in the store, spoke in a secretive whisper.

 

"I would really love the opportunity to watch while your Hmong whore was gangbanged."  I put my arm around Jasmine’s waist as we walked toward the door.  "A whole room full of men taking turns fucking her hard."  Jasmine expanded on her request.  I was aware that neither the Vietnamese nor the Cambodians thought very highly of the Hmong, but Jasmine seemed to have a personal score to settle. 

 

"I certainly would not object to having my slave be the main entertainment at a marathon gangbang," I said as we arrived at the door.  "I'm sure we'd all love to see you fuck the little bitch with a giant strap on also."  Jasmine blushed a deep red as I opened the door and left the store.  I drove home with visions of Jasmine, as a little girl, being gang raped by a large group of Hmong ruffians, that being my guess as to the source of her animosity towards the Hmong people in general.  If letting a room full of men take turns fucking the slave would help Jasmine deal with her bad memories, I was more than happy to help.  Hey, that's just the kind of guy I am.  As I got closer to home my thoughts turned to the slave I'd left chained to the floor, and what the videotape might reveal.  When I walked into the room, I thought the cunt was trying just a little too hard to look innocent. 

 

"What did you do while I was gone?"

 

"Nothing."

 

"Nothing?"

 

"Nothing, I swear, I haven't done anything while you were gone."  I smiled down at my slave.  Now I could add lying to me as one of her punishable offenses if the video revealed anything interesting.  I dropped my bag of piercing goodies on the table then unlocked the leash chain from the eyebolt in the floor.  I pulled the slave up to her knees, after a couple of adjustments to the chains I stepped back and looked her over.  The chain from the front of her collar ran down through her crotch, resting firmly against her clitoris and pussy lips, down to the hobble chain then up to her wrists.  I had shortened the length of chain between the hobble chain and her wrists to keep her from leaning forward, and adjusted the chain between the hobble chain and her collar to keep her from leaning backward.

 

"Walk on your knees," I ordered, picking up the leash chain.  The slave took short hesitant steps forward.  As she moved each knee the chain running through her crotch would drag side to side as well as forward and backward over her clitoris and cunt.  I 'walked' the slave over to the couch, and positioned her just to the side of where I planned to sit. Leaving her there I stepped over to the entertainment center and, after stopping and rewinding the video camera, plugged it into the television and pressed the 'play' button, then walked back over to the couch.

 

I picked up the rod, which had been left there earlier in the day when I whipped her into frenzy while she sucked on my cock, and sat down.  I saw myself on the television walking away from the camera and out of the room.  I tapped the end of the rod against my shoe, just to make sure the slave kept its ability to cause her pain in mind while we watched the video.  Very shortly after I left the room the slave, apparently asleep with her back to the camera, lifted her head and looked around.

 

"Hello?  Is anyone here?"  As soon as she was satisfied that she was alone, the slave twisted her body around and pulled at the chain holding her to the floor.  When that did no good, she tried to pull her wrists from the wrist cuffs.  I noticed that the slave was leaning forward, hanging her head and crying as we watched the video.

 

"Up straight," I ordered giving her a quick snap with the rod.  As she straightened up, the slave looked over at me with a combination of fear and apology. 

 

"Watch the video," I ordered.  On the screen, the slave had given up trying to pull her hands free and began screaming for help.  When the slave was worn out from screaming for help, she noticed the bowel of water on the floor and 'inch-wormed' toward the water.  She was brought up short with her mouth must a couple of inches from the water.  No matter how much the slave struggled, she could not reach the bowel for a drink.  When she tired of that, the slave lay on the floor and sobbed.

 

As we watched the slave went through several cycles of struggling, screaming and sobbing, with an occasional attempt to get to the water bowel.  This continued until I re-entered the picture.  We continued to watch as I, on the screen, adjusted the slave’s chains, moved her over to her present position then walked over and stopped the video camera.  When it was finished I got up and stopped the playback, then started it recording again.

 

"What did you learn from this?"  I asked the slave as I sat down on the couch again and looked at our live images on the TV 

 

"What," I asked louder and more emphatically as I brought the rod down forcefully on the slave’s upper arms, "did you learn from this?"

 

"That I can't escape."  The slave answered with a week voice.

 

"And?"

 

"That no one hears me when I scream."

 

"Both are good lessons," I said as I stood up and grasped the slave's leash, "but you still fail to really grasp your position in the Universe."  I pulled on her chain to get her moving, then walked in front of her as she followed on her knees.  I took the slave into the bathroom where, after loosening her chains, I allowed her to sit on the toilet and relieve herself. 

 

What happened next was not done for my sexual pleasure; I don't get the kick out of this that some people seem to.  I made the slave kneel in the bath/shower, then I pulled my cock out and urinated on her.  After shaking the last drops from my dick and zipping it back inside my trousers I left the urine coated slave kneeling in the tub while I went about fixing myself some food to eat.  I hoped an hour or so with my piss drying in her hair and on her skin would help convince her of the reality of her position as a slave. 

 

When I returned to the bathroom the slave looked like a poor, lost, wet dog.  Her long dirty hair had dried in clumps across her face and down her shoulders.  I got the handheld showerhead and hosed the slave down with cold water, then unhooked her wrists and handed her a bar of soap.  I watched as she lathered her body, including her hair, then hosed her down again with cold water.  I repeated the process three times before I was satisfied that the slave was clean.  I pulled the shivering slave from the tub, and put her down on her hands and knees again.  I dried the slave just enough to keep her from dripping on the floor then walked her on her hands and knees back to the living room where I had her kneel in front of me and watch, again, the video tape of her futile attempts to escape while I applied a motion sickness patch behind each of her ears before I combed and braided her long hair.

 

The combing and braiding of the slave’s hair was not an act of affection, but rather a utilitarian decision.  The braiding would make it easier to keep the hair out of my way, and would make a nice rope to restrain her when necessary.  The active ingredient of the patches is scopolamine.  I got the idea when I read an article describing the various nefarious uses the drug was put to in South America, where it is abundantly available. 

 

According to this article people who were given sufficient quantities of scopolamine become very compliant.  The victims have been known to accompany thieves to their banks, empty their accounts and give the money to the thief.  The drug also causes amnesia, which is convenient for the thief.  The article also told of a prostitution ring that would kidnap women, keep them on scopolamine for several days while they worked the victims as prostitutes, then dump them in a city park where they would 'come to' with no memory of how they got there or what they had done.  So if you suddenly find yourself somewhere with no memory of where you are, or what you've been doing, don't blame little green men from space, just check your body for signs that you have been fucked by a whole shitload of men.

 

I had no desire to keep the slave permanently doped on scopolamine, but the patches would be effective for three days and, if I could regulate the dose correctly, it would make it much easier to take her places, like a party, and make her do things, like fuck everyone in sight.  I also thought it might be interesting to give her scopolamine, pierce, brand or tattoo her then be their when she 'wakes up' with no idea where the piercing, brand or tattoo came from.

 

"Turn around and face me," I told the slave after I finished with her hair.  After she turned around I examined the paperclips that were still in the nail holes I'd put in her nipples.  The holes were further back on the breast than most piercings are done, and ran up and down instead of side to side.  The slave winced in pain as I untwisted the ends of each paper clip and pulled them out.  Once the holes were empty I pored alcohol onto each wound and carefully manipulated each of the slaves breasts to insure that the disinfectant worked all the way through the hole.  Scopolamine is not a pain killer so, even if there had been enough time for it to be effective, it would not have stopped the slave from wincing, sucking air, and doing all the other things you would expect a person in pain to do.  That is one of the interesting things about scopolamine, the slave could still hurt, and react to pain but, if there was enough of the drug in her system, she would have no memory of it a few minutes later. 

 

The barbells I had purchased for the slaves nail holes were a bit thicker than the nails which made the holes, so I had to use some force to push them through her nipples.  Jasmine had suggested the extra thickness, and the use of progressively thicker appliances in these holes to open them up and make them more useful in the future.  The holes were far enough back in the areolas that they could, in the future, be able to withstand considerable pulling without ripping.  After the barbells were placed in the vertical nail holes, I pulled out two small, delicate rings intended to go in more traditional horizontal piercings right where the slave’s nipples joined the areola.  Each ring had a small silver bell attached to it.  So whether the slave was crawling, walking upright, dancing, or being fucked it would be accompanied by the delicate dinging of her small silver nipple bells.  Following the directions Jasmine had given me I pierced each of the slave's nipples a second time and inserted the rings.  When I was done I sat back and looked at my kneeling slave.  She was looking down, shifting her gaze back and forth from one breast to the other, appearing to not be really sure what was happening to her. 

 

I pulled the slave close to me and kissed its mouth, pushing my tongue between her lips while I pushed my hand between its legs and my finger into its cunt.  I found the cunt already wet, the thick sticky fluid already coating the slave's inner thighs.  It had been a couple of hours since I'd fucked Jasmine and my cock was hardening with renewed vigor. 

 

"Stand up," I ordered pulling my mouth away from the slave's, and unhooking the chain from the slave's collar.  After she had struggled to its feet I unhooked all of the chains except the hobble chain connected to its ankles and let the slave walk into the bedroom.  I reconnected one end of the hobble chain to the foot of the bed, leaving the other end connected to the slaves left ankle.  With the slave lying on my bed naked, I removed my clothes and stroked my hard cock while it watched.  When I approached the head of the bed on the side occupied by the slave, it rolled on its side and, lifting its head, willingly took my cock into its mouth.  Placing my hand on the back of the slave’s neck, I thrust my hips forward and pushed my cock past its gag point and into its throat.  The slave kneaded my thigh while I fucked my hard cock deeply in and out of its mouth for several minutes before I pulled out and, moving around to the other side of the bed, lay down next to the slave. 

 

Lying with my belly up against the slave's back, I lifted its leg and pushed my cock into its wet cunt.  While I fucked with long, slow strokes I wrapped my arms around the slave and stroked its breasts with one hand while I stroked and pinched its clitoris with the other.  The slave rocked its hips in counterpoint to my thrusts, forcing itself back onto my cock with each of my inward strokes.  The slave's moans changed from pleasure to pain and back again depending on how hard I pinched its clitoris while I fucked its cunt.  I fucked for twenty or thirty minutes, came, then fell asleep with my cock still buried in the slave.