Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Title: After the Revolution, Part 1
Summary: In a post-apocalypse America, a horny businessman buys a
teen-age girl as a sex slave.  100% fiction, of course, and don't read if
you are not of legal age.
Codes: Mg, slave, virgin, deflower, first
   By A.Muller
   So here's the scene: Katie is walking down a hall bare-ass naked with
ropes tied to both hands.  The ropes are attached to the carbon fiber
shackle bands, AKA bracelets, that were attached to her wrists and ankles
when she was shipped.  In my left hand I'm firmly holding the ropes to her
wrists, but her ankles are ropeless.  In my right hand is my persuader.  In
my trousers is a very hard dick oozing with pre-cum.
   Why the carbon fiber bracelets?  You don't want a slave to wear metal
wristbands that could be used to smash your face.  I'd love to toss Katie
on a bed, tie her spread eagle, and fuck and fuck and fuck.  That might be
the way events play out, but I try to be more sensitive to her emotional
needs, so that she ends up fucking me for pleasure, unshackled.
   Sure, being "sensitive" (manipulative, actually) takes a bit more time,
but if you are lucky, you end up with a girl you can bounce on your cock
and actually sleep with, not just a slave with a cunt who fights you every
time you want to cum.  So I plan to be nice to Katie over the next few
hours.
   Let's face it, 15-year-old girls aren't exactly thrilled to be fucked by
middle-aged guys, especially given the almost certainty of an eventual
pregnancy.  If I looked like a 17-year-old surfer dude with a six-pack
belly and sun-kissed hair, odds are that I'd have a lot easier time
training the girls I buy.  But I'm twentysome years older than Katie, and
I'm not Hollywood handsome.  They know they don't have a choice, they know
that I'm going to fuck them, but if I don't rape them savagely, over time
they generally accept their role and start fucking me back.  In the
meantime I try to be somewhat less than a Neanderthal as I pump 'em.
   I start by introducing Katie to her room.  "That's your room to the
right," I say.  "Go on in." Katie opens the steel door and steps inside.  I
had the room built especially for new slave girls.  The walls are poured
reinforced concrete covered by thin plasterboard.  The girls can't punch or
kick holes in the walls, and they sure can't escape through them.  The
ceilings are 17 feet high, as I don't want any new slave deciding to hang
herself.  For the same reason there are no closet rods or even closets, but
there are built-in shelves along one wall.
   "Check out the bathroom," I say, and Katie walks through a door-less
portal into a nice sized bathroom with shower.  There's no protruding
shower head, another measure to stop hangings, and the shower itself is big
enough for four or six people.  There is a dispenser button for shower gel,
and on the sink there's a tube of toothpaste.  There's also a rubber tip
for use as a toothbrush.  It fits over a finger like a tiny, really short
condom, and it has rubber bristles.  Sure, I could provide a toothbrush,
but toothbrushes make nice shivs and I don't want Katie to stab me with
Colgate-Palmolive's finest dental appliance.
   Katie hasn't said a word.
   "I'm going to leave you in here," I say.  "There are towels in the
bedroom, on the shelves.  Take a shower and brush your teeth.  And get
dressed from the clothes on the shelves.  When you're done, I'll come back
and brush your hair.  Then I'll feed you, as you must be very hungry.  Now,
come here and I'll free your arms."
   She turns toward me but crosses her arms in front of her breasts and,
when she walks slowly toward me, she stops half a step too far away. 
That's fine with me, as she would have difficulty in striking out.  I've
already seen her tits, and I'll see a lot more of them in the future.  If
she wants to play the coy maiden, at this moment I don't care.  I step
toward her, untie the ropes attached to her bracelets, and back out of the
room, locking the door behind me.
   Katie doesn't know it yet, but she'll soon see the four video cameras in
each room, mounted right where the walls and ceiling meet.  I move to my
observation room next door and watch the video feeds.  At the moment, Katie
is sitting on the bed and crying.  I keep watching, wondering whether
she'll take the shower I've ordered.  If not, I have a problem.  There's a
loudspeaker in her room, so I could bark an order, but I wait.
   I'm about to decide that Katie is a lost cause in the obedience
department when, finally, she gets up and walks to the shelves with the
towels and clothing.  She picks up a towel and them moves to the clothing.
She's in for a bit a shock.  There are only two types of garments.
   One is like a hospital gown, but with slits up the middle of both the
front and back, not just the back like a hospital gown.  The slits are held
together by a couple of Velcro ties, as are the front and back sections. 
The gown is my own invention, designed to give me easy and quick access to
the cunt who is wearing it.
   The other garment is bikini-like.  The part for the tits is fitted on
top, as with a bikini, but the fabric isn't gathered under the tits.  I
think of it as a tit awning, designed to allow very easy access.  The
bottom piece is a very short skirt.  Both parts are, like the gown,
fastened with Velcro.  I expect Katie will choose the gown, as almost every
slave girls does at first, and I'm right.
   When she's finished showering and drying off, I rap lightly on the door
and enter, carrying a comb and a hairbrush in one hand and the persuader in
the other.  She's standing at the bathroom door.  "Sit over here," I say,
and point to the edge of the bed.  She hesitates, then walks over and sits
down, and begins sniffling.  "Please don't hurt me," she says.
   "I won't," I reply, and put down the persuader, just out of her reach.
She doesn't know it, but I've deactivated the persuader by touching my
Bluetooth ring.  I'm testing her, but it is probably a waste of time, as I
expect she's too hungry and disoriented to try to attack me.  I comb her
hair from behind, then brush it.  It falls about four inches down her back.
"Turn around," I say, and she turns on the bed to face me.  I start to
brush her hair in front, but she gently stops me.
   "Please, let me brush it myself, mister."
   "Call me Joe."
   "Please, Joe."
   "Maybe next time.  Come on, let's get you fed." I motion for her to go
out the door.  "Turn right, then right again." She follows my directions
and enters a combination sitting room, exercise room, and dining room.  On
the table is a 10-inch pepperoni pizza, faint wisps of steam rising from
it. Next to it is a small glass of sugar-free, caffeine-free Coca-Cola. 
Caffeine is a diuretic that makes you want to piss, and that's not what I
have in mind for Katie's private parts for the next couple of hours.
   "Omigod, I haven't had pizza since  -- since  -- the revolution," she
says, and almost pounces on it.
   "Stop!" I shout.  She halts in mid-stride, and looks at me oddly.
   "Take off the gown and stand on the scale," I say, and point to a
digital scale I liberated from a doctor's office.  She pouts and glares at
me, but as I raise the persuader to firing position, she undoes the Velcro
straps, folds up the gown and puts it on the table next to the pizza, and
walks to scale.  I measure her height first.  She's exactly 5-foot-4.  And
she weighs in at 112 pounds.
   "OK, you can eat now." She wolfs down the first couple slices, then
starts savoring the pizza.  I sit across from her, smiling, as she eats.
   "Katie, I have a deal for you," I say.  "If you don't give me any
trouble, I'll treat you right and feed you very well indeed.  But if...."
   "I know the score," said she, interrupting me.  "I'm not stupid.  I  --.
" She starts crying.
   "Come on," I say, and point the persuader at the door to the hall. 
"Let's go back to your room." She stands up and walks back, her bare feet
barely making a sound.
   The time has arrived.  I motion to the bed and say, simply, "Lie down,
Katie." She sniffles and lies down on her side, facing away from me. 
"Katie, I'd like to leave your hands free, but I don't think that's wise.
You understand, I hope." She nods and begins crying.  I take a piece of
strong cord out of a pocket, tie one end to the bracelet on her right
wrist, and then tie the other to an O-ring in the wall.  I tie up her left
wrist the same way to another O-ring.
   She's now lying on her back, still wearing the gown, with her legs free
to kick me, if she has the gonads to do so, and her teeth free to rip me
open, if I let her mouth get near me.  I want her naked, but I also don't
want her to freak out, so I'm determined to go slow, despite the damn near
painful erection in my pants.  What I really want to do is cum, and
quickly, but I know I have to take my time.  So I lie down next to Katie,
and gently stroke her cheek with my left hand.  She's looking at the
ceiling, and doesn't move.
   I slide my hand down to her breasts and start teasing them through the
gown's fabric.  She doesn't flinch or try to dislodge my hand, so I slip it
under the gap between the front halves of the gown.  My fingers dance on
her right breast, occasionally flicking her nipple.  Katie keeps staring at
the ceiling and remains perfectly still.  "Katie, look at me." She turns
her head.  I decide to risk it.  I lean in and kiss her lightly on the
lips. Her eyes open wider, and she accepts the kiss, though she doesn't
kiss back.
   Understanding seeps into my brain.  Katie is a submissive, at least for
now, while she's disoriented in her new home and uncertain of me.  I can
fuck her as I like.  Will she fuck me back?  That's something I'll learn
only as time goes on.  Katie is not my first submissive.  I had one early
on, and she was irritating in the extreme.  JoEllen was her name.  I could
fuck her morning, noon, and night, but she was always like a giant beanbag.
She never initiated any movement, ever.  I quickly tired of JoEllen and
sold her.
   "Katie, I'm going to untie you and take off your gown.  Will you help
me?" Katie nods.  I get up and untie her hands, and she stands up and take
off the gown.  This time, she doesn't cover her tits once she's naked.  She
just stands by the bed, awaiting further instructions.  "Lie down." She
lies on her back once more, and once more I lie by her side.
   More understanding reaches my brain.  Perhaps not immediately, but soon
after the revolution put her in a "re-education" camp, Katie must have
realized that she was being groomed as a sex slave.  That's a hell of a
future for a 11-year-old girl to discover.  But in the weeks, months, and
years after reality rained on her princess parade, something must have
clicked inside Katie.  Maybe, just maybe, she had decided that if she was
going to be a sex slave, she would be a good one.  Or at least she wouldn't
be a bitch.  Or maybe it is simply a matter of hormones and being a horny
15-year-old, but so far Katie is cooperating.
   I reach for her head, and pull her toward me, and begin kissing her
gently on the lips and then on the neck and ears.  After maybe five minutes
of my kissing her, and getting nothing in return, I pull away from her,
look at her face, and say simply, "Kiss me back, Katie." She looks at me
blankly.  "Kiss me, Katie." I hesitate, and then I say it: "Please. 
Please, Katie.  Kiss me."
   There's the hint of a smile on her face as she leans toward me and
kisses me on the lips.  Progress.
   I stand up and kick off my shoes.  "Katie, I'm going to undress." She
nods.  I unbuckle my belt, unzip my fly, and lower my pants.  My Johnson is
standing at attention, tenting my underwear and leaving a tiny pre-cum wet
spot.  I peel off my shirt and then lower my underpants.  Katie looks at my
cock wide-eyed.  She looks frightened.  "Katie, it's all right," I say. 
"You will stretch and it will fit, and it will feel good, very good, maybe
not at first, but it will.  I promise." She moves her head slightly, but I
can't tell if it's a nod or a shake, and then she starts sobbing.
   I lie down and hold her tight.  She hugs me weakly in return, still
sobbing.  I kiss her on the neck, then nibble her earlobe.  She kisses my
cheek.  I kiss her square on the mouth and slip my tongue gently between
her teeth.  She accepts my tongue and tongues me back.  We kiss like this
for maybe twenty more minutes.  The skin around my lips is raw, and hers
must be, too, but in addition my balls ache.  If I don't cum soon, I'm
gonna be in pain for hours.
   I move my head lower, to a tit, and swirl my tongue around the nipple.
After a few seconds, I move to the other tit.  Katie moans softly.  It is
almost a purr, but when I raise my head and look at her face, I see a
blank. Then she realizes I'm looking at her, and she smiles slightly. 
Maybe she's a great actress, playing the role of courtesan while all the
time she's scheming to stick a shiv in my back.  I need to be careful, but
at this moment, what I really need is to cum.
   Her cunt awaits me, and I abandon her tits for another time.  I scoot
down the bed, nudge her legs apart, and climb between them.  Her pussy
looks s-o-o-o-o-o inviting and I'm so horny, I could almost cum in thin
air, but I don't.  I kiss the sides of her thighs before circling in. 
After a few nibbles on her labia, and a few tongue probes of her cunt
opening, I move my tongue up and part the folds hiding her clit's hood.  I
start teasing the hood gently with tongue and lips, and slowly her clit
swells and pokes out of its hiding place.  I kiss it a few times and then,
the time has come.
   I move up between her legs.  A lot of guys would have spent a lot of
time opening this virgin's cunt with their fingers first, maybe even
opening it with a dildo before trying to get their dick in.  Not me.  I'm
not circumcised, and I've learned that by pulling my foreskin up to the
head of my dick, I can slide my dick into any cunt, no matter how tight. 
Thanks to pre-cum, my foreskin acts like a super-lubricated launch tube.
   "This is going to hurt a bit," I tell her between kisses.  At this point
she's not kissing me back.  She's lost in the ozone, lost in the moment.  I
guess she's braced against the forthcoming pain.  My dick squeezes
deliciously past the ring of muscle guarding the entrance to her cunt and
touches her hymen.  I pull back and move in again, slowly, and stretch her
cherry, then back out and repeat the process.  After five or six times of
knocking gently at her cherry's door, I go ahead and shove through, hard.
Swiftly I'm balls deep in her cunt.  She cries out and then whimpers.
   I desperately want to cum, but I also want Katie's first fuck to last a
bit longer, so I stop moving as much as I can.  Katie isn't holding still,
however.  She's now moving slightly, humping back at me, so I go ahead and
start fucking.  I don't last long, not with my dick enjoying the warm
heaven of a virgin cunt.  "Unngh," I grunt, "unngh," and shoot spurt after
spurt of cum deep into Katie.
   As I calm down from my climax and start to relax, I lift my head and
look directly at Katie.  She's looking at me, and says softly, "That wasn't
as bad as I thought it was going to be."
   "It'll get better," I say.  "A lot better.  And soon, you'll find that
fucking is fun." I play with her tits and kiss her neck, and then I roll
off, satisfied for now.
   END of part 2
   
  
After the Revolution part 2