Silent

H. Jekyll

MF, Mf, Ff, bdsm, nc, some scat:  story codes refer to the series, not to 
specific chapters.

Chapter Eight, "Change"


She had held the water for how long?  Standing in the tub, hands cuffed behind, 
a bowel full of liquid, she had panted and twisted herself this way and that, 
knotted her butt, tightened her anus, holding it in, while he came and went.  
Even this made her mad for sex, even the cramping and the fullness and the worry 
that she wouldn't be able to hold it and he would punish her again.

Days now of almost constant arousal.  He wouldn't provide release.  He kept 
finding ways to keep her high.  And how long had that been?  She had orgasmed 
once:  the water drops kept her high and awake during her sleep times, and two 
sleeps ago, in a state of only half wakefulness she'd climaxed while watching  
the tape of herself coming while he fucked her ass.  It had rushed on her almost 
without warning, like a summer shower.  She'd lost all voice control, making 
loud, lovely sex sounds in the room while the orgasm was prolonged by one drop, 
then another.  She was lucky he hadn't heard.  Then she'd slept heavily for the 
first time in forever, turning her body a little so the drops didn't fall 
directly on her clitoris, because she became very sensitive after sex.  But by 
the time he waked her it was the same again.

There was a routine they followed, which didn't include her daughter and didn't 
include much sex.  She thought of her all the time, maternally, sexually, 
brutally.  Though she knew she had become depraved, she still wondered at her 
kissing, sucking, and whipping her girl.  When he played the tapes of those 
encounters she watched awestruck.  She wondered if the girl thought of her, and 
if so, what.  She was afraid she had lost her forever, though as long as both 
were here together there was the chance to make it up to her.  And that time 
would be forever.

The routine was that she spent most of her time in her chamber, always 
immobilized and always with the plugs and white noise machine, usually with the 
colander device.  He blindfolded her unless he wanted her to watch the pictures 
of rape and torture;  recently he had wanted her to do that most of the time.  
Some pictures were shown all the time, which made her think they were favorites 
of his.  Others came and went.  Pictures of her daughter and her were shown 
often.  When allowed up, she had the toilet and bath, her exercises, and her 
feeding.  He had stopped feeding her by mouth so she usually ate something from 
the dog bowl.   It was as though he was bored with her, bored with humiliating 
and hurting her, bored with sexing her.  She tried being extra good for him, but 
it didn't help.  She thought he must be using the girl most of the time.

He had started making her sweep, mop, and clean the rooms she inhabited.  This 
at least made her happy, because only then and when exercising was she allowed 
to use her arms and hands, and she worked hard.  Everyday he found some fault 
with what she did and hurt her a little, with pins or a light whip or nipple 
clamps, but he didn't hurt her enough to cause her to make noises.  Most of the 
time she wasn't even tied down, but simply knelt for him or lay still while he 
punished her.  She had become a very good slave, indeed.  She would take greater 
hurts, with grace, if he would only play with her body.  Poor little slave.

She wished her arms were free to clutch her belly, to help support the liquid 
that made her look like she had a bit of gut.  He ass muscles were so tired, and 
the pressure just didn't stop.  She could feel a dribble of liquid on her thigh.

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Finally, he let her flush everything from her lower bowel.  This was the first 
time she had been able to hold for the entire period, and he was pleased with 
her.  "You work to submit and to please more fully than your daughter, more than 
most of my girls, in fact.  I think it is time to reward you a bit.  Oh, not too 
much," he chuckled, "I wouldn't want you to get over stimulated." 

He had her get up from the toilet and lean on the countertop.  He usually did 
this so he could clean her ass.  Today, though, once she was well wiped, he 
lubricated her and played with her ass, sliding fingers far inside her and 
rubbing them across the velvety lining within.  She was laying with her mons 
firmly on the counter top.  When he pushed into her it pushed her down onto the 
counter and gave her some pleasure.  She was hopeful.  

He lay a folded towel under her head, since she couldn't cushion herself with 
her arms.  She spread her legs to give him better access, then waited while he 
undressed.  She hadn't felt his penis inside her for so long.  He stood behind 
her and played with her sex.  She almost made a sound with her throat.  She was 
wet, and he entered her pussy, one push all the way in.  She almost grunted, it 
was so large.  It still surprised her with the pressure, wherever he used it.  
And she hadn't had her pussy used almost since she had arrived here.  For some 
reason he had stopped using it before anything else.  Now he fucked her for a 
bit, and she got closer and closer.  She tried to not move.  She wanted him not 
to stop just to frustrate her.

But she couldn't stop her excitement.  She did breathe faster and faster, and 
she pushed her ass back against him and squeezed him with her pussy.  He pulled 
out and she did whimper in disappointment.  "Ha!  You haven't completely 
learned, have you?"  What would he do?  He started spanking her ass.  She lay 
quietly, trying  not to move or respond.  He was being playful.

"Good girl.  You do try to follow the rules, don't you?  I may have to make 
harder rules for you."  Then he put his dick up against her anus and pushed.  
She pushed out and let him in, and again he went in all the way, in one push, 
all the way to bump against the end of her rectum.  He held her down by her 
waist, one hand on each side, pushing downward heavily, leaning on her.  Fucking 
her ass, he was fucking downwards, his hips splatting against her rear, and the 
force banged her sex softly against the counter top.  She came closer.  Please 
don't finish too soon.  Let me come too.  She was having difficulty drawing a 
breath, with him leaning on her, but she was close.  She was there, almost 
there, responding to her cramping around his dick, the force of it bumping 
against her rectum, and the pounding of her sex on the counter, and then she was 
over  and was able to come in quiet sighs while he finished with her ass.

Sex left her so drowsy.  She lay almost asleep, feeling the pressure in her 
rear, idly wondering how much semen her master had shot into her, feeling his 
weight push her arms hard into her back and push her front hard onto the 
counter. He lay on her after coming, giving her the contrast of the cold, hard 
counter top with his warm, soft body.   She would like to be able to kiss him.

But he got up and made her kneel before him.  This again.  She readied herself 
to suck his penis clean, the bad work of a slave.  He was about half erect, and 
when she looked up at him there wasn't any shit to be seen.  She had been clean 
for him.  There was some shitty smell, and a little taste, but it didn't even 
make her gag.  She lingered on his penis, hoping to arouse him again.  Maybe he 
would fuck her again soon.

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He was doing something different.  She was blindfolded, but not tied down.  He 
led her across the floor, then for the first time in her captivity he was 
walking her up the stairs.  After a flight she was walking on carpet, and they 
seemed to go up several flights.  She couldn't be sure.  The place she was in 
had a quiet feel to it.  He made her kneel then left her there for a bit, 
holding herself still.  Then she heard him return and someone was with him, 
someone padding on bare feet.  Her daughter?

When he took off the blindfold she saw that she was in an enormous, lovely room, 
carpeted, with rich furniture, decorated with paintings and living, green 
plants.  Against one wall was an astoundingly large bed.  She had never seen 
anything like it.  There were at least three torchiere lamps but none was 
lighted, and she realized that the room had windows and that it was a sunny day.  
She stared up at the windows, seeing nothing but blue.  Oh.  Oh my. 

She heard a sound and turned her head, and there was her daughter, also staring 
at the sky.  Her daughter looked at her for just a moment, then turned her head 
away.  The daughter had both new and old bruises on her torso, and a few fresh 
welts.

"Today you're going to be able to visit a place of loveliness, my main bedroom.  
You will play statues, holding a lovely position for the day.  Not a hard 
position, but don't disappoint me by moving.  I want you to add to my lovely 
decorations."

He took the mother first, had her climb onto the bed and kneel at the left side 
by the headboard, facing the center.  Her knees were wide apart.  He fastened 
her feet loosely together and fixed a chain between her feet and hands.  He then 
placed her daughter kitty-corner to her and fixed her the same way.  They were 
facing each other and the daughter tried to look away.

"No, no, none of that.  You'll look straight ahead or I'll punish you."  He 
looked the daughter in the face.   "And you know that I would enjoy that."  He 
brought in a large glass of water, which he made the mother drink down.  He got 
another one for the daughter.  He took the glass away and when he returned he 
pulled two ball gags from a pocket.  "Now, I can't chance that you two might 
talk to each other.  I won't tolerate that."  Neither had been gagged for a long 
time.  Then he walked out, leaving them to look silently at each other, a still 
life in flesh.

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The first minutes were not difficult, physically.  They knelt and looked toward 
each other.  The daughter tried to avert her eyes,  the mother to speak with her 
eyes.  The daughter was more successful until he came through the room, with a 
sheaf of papers, and told her she was building punishment points.  So they 
looked at each other.  The mother tried not to cry.  She did that so easily.  
But she was here with her daughter who hated her, and she couldn't communicate 
at all.  She was sorry she was so weak, and sorry she had hit her, and she hated 
herself again, more than her daughter could possibly know.

The hours were awful.  The mother's legs went to sleep, and she tried to shift 
around to relieve them and he caught her moving.  Her back and her neck started 
to hurt.  It was almost impossible to remain still.  She found she had to 
urinate, then had to go more, then more.  She was wriggling because of this when 
he caught her again.  The daughter seemed to hold her position better, but by 
the end of a few hours she too was shifting around.  They listened for when he 
seemed nearby, doing God knows what, to set themselves, but he seemed to pass 
through at just those times that they were moving the most, and he kept catching 
them.  Of course he cheated.

The mother's bladder became so full that she forgot about her back and neck.  
She was staining to keep from going, but it was so hard, and so uncomfortable, 
that she knew she was going to lose.  After a time she couldn't keep still, with 
the pressure to go building so.  She had always hated being caught in a car on a 
long trip, unable to use the restroom, because her father had seemed sadistic in 
his unwillingness to stop.  This was worse.  She couldn't control herself.  She 
was going to wet the bed and she couldn't stop herself.  Then she heard a 
hissing sound and saw her daughter go with a force that surprised her, 
spattering the bed far in front of her.  The smell of urine came to her like a 
warm mist.  Her daughter hung her head and cried, not trying to hold it in, and 
the mother cried in sorrow for her.  She wanted to creep over to her to comfort 
her, but she was afraid to.  It was another twenty minutes before she wet her 
corner of the bed.

When their Master returned the next time he was quiet with them.  He made them 
get onto the carpet until he could strip the bed, then he made them each kneel 
at the other's corner, with her nose pressed into the wet mattress, like you 
would do if training a puppy.  They stayed that way the rest of the day, 
smelling each other's urine.  He wouldn't let them raise their heads from it.  
They each knew he was going to do something awful to them.

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That evening he removed all their restraints, fed them from dog bowls, and had 
them bathe in a bathroom off the upstairs bedroom.   They were in there, 
together and alone, so she tried to whisper to her daughter, to apologize, but 
her daughter said nothing and kept looking away from her.  When they came out 
the bed was made.  He had them climb on it and lay side by side on their 
stomachs, their hands reaching toward the headboard.  He had a wooden paddle, 
like the type they used to use in schools, with holes drilled in it.  He said, 
"You two have been awful today and have a lot coming to you.  I'm not going to 
tie you.  You're going to stay in place on your own while I punish you.  Do you 
have anything you want to say?"

The daughter said: "She was trying to talk to me in the bathroom."  Sharper than 
a serpent's tooth it was.  The mother just looked at he daughter.  She couldn't 
respond.   

"Well, I suppose she has some extra punishment coming, doesn't she?  I'll let 
you do it, as a reward."  He let her up and handed her the paddle.  "Now hit her 
straight down on the rump."  The daughter did, and the force drove the middle of 
her body into the mattress, then bounced her part way up again.  It was as bad 
as the whippings.  "Give her another one."  Mother grabbed the bedspread with 
her hands to hold herself still.  She tried to stay quiet.  The daughter hit her 
a third time and she raised her head back in pain, looking something like a 
coyote baying at the moon.  Oh, it burned.  In between she was flexing her ass 
muscles, trying to control the hurt, without success.  The fourth hit she almost 
tried to dodge.  All of her muscles were working under her skin.  The fifth hit 
she did move.

"Well, you are getting uppity, aren't you?  We'll start these over.  But, 
because your daughter is such a snitch she'll take them for you and you'll get 
to deliver them."  At that both mother and a daughter gasped, and the daughter 
tried to back away from the Master.  

"No, Master, it isn't fair, it isn't.  I was trying to be good.  I was!"  She 
started crying in shock and in fear, but stood stock still when he stared at 
her.  Then she crept slowly onto the bed, crying, and stretched herself down.   
He pulled the mother up and handed her the paddle.  She stood over her crying 
daughter, holding the paddle like a baseball bat, staring down at her daughter 
then looking over to the Master, then down, then she dropped the paddle and fell 
at his knees and was wailing.

"Please, Master, don't make me do it.  Don't make me hit my daughter.  Please, 
I'll do anything else you tell me.  Please, she's my daughter, Master.  Oh 
please don't make me, please don't make me."  She was holding onto his legs and 
sobbing as though lamenting the dead, and he seemed in danger of falling.  The 
daughter was looking over at her with large, wet eyes, the eyes of a deer caught 
in the headlights.

He leaned down and started caressing her hair.  Again.  Some more.  After a few 
minutes she controlled herself.  "So," he said, "you're not just an ass-kissing 
slave, are you?  You do care for some things besides your own pleasures and 
pains."  He pried her arms gently off his legs, lifted her, held her to him, 
kissed her face.  Her face was wet.  She wanted to know if she should be 
grateful to him, or if he was toying with her.

Perhaps she should be grateful.  Perhaps not.  He didn't hurt them anymore.  
Instead he made them assume new poses on the bed, kneeling with their hands 
fastened behind their heads, their arms pulled back,  thrusting out their 
breasts like nymphs, or starlets.  He told them they would not get another 
chance, and not to move, but he didn't gag them when he left.  They held their 
poses.  Their arms would get tired soon.  She was concentrating on keeping her 
arms pulled back when she heard her daughter whisper:  "Thank you, Mother," and 
then, "I'm so sorry."

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He was ready to play.  He let them end their poses, move, use the bathroom.  
Then he had them lie down on the bed, side by side on their stomachs, with their 
legs dangling on the floor.  He had his broad leather belt, doubled-over.  Once 
they were down he started whipping them on their asses and thighs, first one of 
them, then the other, one hit on each.  He went back and forth.  They jerked 
with each hit, grabbed the covers, held their bodies down to the bed as firmly 
as they could.  At some early point their hands met and they held each other's 
hand, and he let them.  They were sharing, but not completely.  The mother's ass 
was marked with parallel bruises and round welts and was very sensitive.  She 
wanted to be brave for her daughter, but it pleased him to hit her where her 
daughter had hit her earlier.  Almost immediately she couldn't stop moving and 
mewling into the bed.  She held her daughter's hand very tightly.

He hit them again and again, deciding to crush them anew.  He never grew tired.  
He would go on until they broke or were unconscious.  

The mother broke completely first.  She went from mewling to making loud cries, 
muffled into the bedspread but still audible.  Her daughter grunted into the 
bedspread with each hit.  But her legs were trembling and she started moving her 
ass in a motion something like fucking, as it burned more and more.  Finally she 
raised her head and made a keening sound with a hit, and then she made sounds 
each time.  They both moved their bodies with the pain which was really three 
pains: the initial shock of the belt, the biting a few seconds after the belt, 
and the burning.  They lost their grip on each other's hand and forced their 
faces into the bed, crying, wetting the spread with mucus and tears.  Each was 
lost in her own, private little world of pain, not knowing anything else, just 
knowing she couldn't escape it.  Each was moving her legs around, kicking a 
little, twisting in place, dying.  He whipped and whipped.

When he stopped they kept moving and crying into the bed.  The burning would 
continue for a long time.  Both had torn skin.  He stood quietly until finally 
their crying subsided and they merely made little moans.  Then he made them 
raise their heads.  "Don't move," he ordered, and went off to have dinner.

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There was no need to pleasure them.  He could do that whenever he wanted.  There 
was no challenge anymore to making them desire his touch.  They had succumbed 
long ago.  He would, then, just use them in innovative ways.  He made them kneel 
in front of him;  first the older one, then the younger, sucked on his penis.  
He didn't want to come too quickly.  He thought he might have two shots in him 
tonight.  No good to give one away.  He made them lick him, cheek to cheek, as 
one.

Then he made them get back on the bed, right next to each other, asses toward 
him, and started working their pussies.  First the older one, then the younger.  
He was always methodical.  He used a lot of lubricant with them, and despite 
himself he did things that might bring them pleasure.  He always liked pulling 
on pussy lips, milking them, and he did that now, but they were still hurting 
too much, and were too cowed.  Then he began working their asses.  This was fun!  
They were so sore that they whimpered when he did it, even after he threatened 
them, and they had to overcome themselves just to stay still.  More lubricant.  
Ah, the insides of their rectums were so soft.  They had no idea what they were 
holding in themselves.  He particularly liked the younger one, because she was 
smaller and he had to use some  force to get in.  He had made her bleed several 
times -- not by trying -- then had backed off anal sex to keep from wearing her 
out.

This night he started by fucking their pussies, first the older one.  He didn't 
spend too much time in either pussy, because this wasn't what he wanted most.  
He just wanted to use them in various ways.  He pulled out of the younger one, 
who still had the tightest little thing, and went to the older one's anus.  He 
massaged her ass, making her hurt, and put his penis up to her anus, saying, 
"Remember, give me the maximum pleasure."  Then he entered her.  She always 
cooperated completely.  She was so obedient.  While he fucked her poor ass he 
spanked her, causing the most lovely high-pitched little cries.  It was amazing 
how quickly she had forgotten how to control her voice.  He might begin working 
with her on that again, and perhaps make her learn how to take still more.  She 
fucked well, even with him spanking her and her whimpering at the hurt.  If he 
wasn't careful he would finish too quickly.

Then on to the younger one.  She was very tight, as usual, but tried to help 
him.  Ah, it was good to slide all the way into her, past such a tight 
sphincter.  He fucked her for a bit,  then pulled all the way out.  Yes there 
was some blood again.  He went to her pussy, fucking in there with his prick a 
little shitty.  Then to the older one's ass, then to her pussy, too.  He was 
going back and forth, staying close.  He spanked the younger one the next time 
he entered her ass.  Ahh, what lovely cries!  It was time for his first orgasm.  
He started fucking her faster and came gloriously into her.

He pulled out, turned the older one around and presented his prick to her.  She 
knew what to do.  He'd never had a slave try so hard to please.  It would be a 
shame to lose her, though she was becoming boringly predictable.  She took his 
penis into her mouth and cleaned it of all traces of their combined shit, mostly 
her daughter's.  She still heaved when she found any but worked to swallow it 
nonetheless.  When she was done she held him in her mouth.  She looked sick and 
glum.  

He would take some time to recharge.  So, he would make them love each other for 
an interlude.  "Rise, and kiss each other sweetly, like you know how to do."

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The mother thought she couldn't do this, not with her mouth so filthy.  She 
wasn't sure she wouldn't vomit yet, and she didn't want to think of what he 
would do in that case.  Her daughter was reluctant, too.  She came close but 
didn't kiss.  Then he ordered them to kiss immediately and they did, mouth on 
mouth, tongue to tongue.  The daughter gagged right in the middle of the kiss 
and the mother pulled back.  A moment later they were kissing again, and soon 
there was almost no shit smell or taste.  

They had no heart in it this time but had to do it.  Their arms were free and 
soon wrapped around each other's body, so they held each other and after a bit 
became aware that their breasts were touching and rubbing on each other.  They 
continued to kiss on demand, and finally they noticed the softness of their 
mouths and the sweetness of their tongues, and the dirtiness of what they were 
doing, and they were able to do it full heartedly.  They focused on their mouths 
and their breasts and tried to screen him out.  Their asses hurt so much, 
throbbing with heat.  Their mouths were active, pulling on each other, softing 
each other, making such a luscious refuge.  If only they could slip into each 
other's mouths and fall forever.

He couldn't allow that, could he?  It was time for round two.  He sat on the 
edge of the bed and made the daughter kneel between his legs.  She started 
sucking and licking him, only slowly bringing him to full erection.  Much work 
would be required.  While she worked on him, he called the mother over and gave 
her the belt.  "Now whip her until I come," he said, "and don't give me any 
nonsense about her being your daughter.  If you don't do your job then I'll take 
her and I'll hurt her more than you ever could, and you afterward.  So start 
now!"

So she started beating her love again, flogging that poor battered ass and 
making her daughter cry onto his dick while she pumped him up and down and 
sucked as much as she could, trying after all just to make him come, come now, 
come now!   It took him a long time to come.  If not for the beating of the 
daughter he might not have done it at all.

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Still, it wasn't as exciting anymore.  It was time to replace them, to get 
someone new to introduce to submission.  So one day while they were in their 
long period of immobility, he went out and got himself a young Vietnamese girl.  
Perhaps she would be too submissive?  Well, he'd find out.  

Her roused both of them and brought them to the punishment room, where he gagged 
them and fixed their hands behind their necks.  He made them stand against a 
wall and told them to stay there until he called for them.  He went out and led 
in the new girl, still dressed, shackled, with the ski mask over her head.  He 
unfastened her as he had the mother, as he had every captive he'd owned.

She looked around terrified, stared at the two bound slaves, and backed toward a 
door.  "Come to the middle of the room and take off all your clothes," he said.  
She backed up to the door, and he said, "After you try to escape I'll punish you 
severely.  Remember that."  

Unlike the mother, she screamed and panicked and ran here and there, even 
straight at the mother and daughter, who moved aside to avoid her.  He hit her 
several times with his long whip before she lost her wind and fell to the floor.  
Then on his command she got up red faced and stripped, crying loudly the whole 
time, calling for her mother.  She looked to be about sixteen, with smallish 
breasts but such a lovely lean body and long black hair.  She had almost no body 
hair.  

Once she was strung up, he called the mother and daughter over.  He removed 
shackles and gags and gave them each a riding crop.  They were to beat the girl, 
one on each side.  They took turns swinging the crops, one hit on his first 
count, then the other hit on his second count.  The girl followed the usual 
pattern, running out of energy almost right away, hanging between strokes, 
sweating enormously.  He took his clothes off and made the one who wasn't 
delivering the blow suck on his penis, moving around the girl counterclockwise.

He told the mother to go over to the girl, to tell her how it would be, to make 
her kiss sweetly.  She did, and the poor thing let the mother take her mouth and 
even put her own tongue into the mother's mouth, while crying and crying.  

That night he decided to get rid of them.  He could get another playmate to 
train with the new girl.  He had them get dressed, then bound and blindfolded 
them and put them in the trunk of a large car.  What was this?  They drove a 
long time, turning often.  He transferred them to a van, where they sat up, 
still blindfolded, waiting for him to kill them.  Finally he stopped.  He pulled 
off the blindfolds and unbound them.  He opened the door and pulled them out.  
They didn't know what would happen.  He said, "There's a town that way.  About 
five miles.  Enjoy your new life.  But remember, you'll never get rid of me.  
I'm in you now.  And I'll be in touch."  Then he drove off.

--ch.8



