At Home With Turk II
In the morning, Denise was awoken by the swinging open of her cell door. The gray haired old lady entered singing to herself contentedly. She carried a bowl of porridge and a glass of milk for her young charge. She placed them on the floor and released the bonds around her ankles and thighs.
Denise had spent a tormented night. She had squirmed and struggled with the straps around her legs. Her ability to adjust her sleeping pose was limited to the shifting of her head from side to side. Her arms, held taut behind her, felt useless, not really part of her anymore. She had cried a while after the old lady had left and then drifted off to fitful sleep. When her natural urge to adjust her body during sleep came, she awoke with a start, frustrated and surprised to find herself bound, cocoon-like, and resident in a dingy basement cell. Her helplessness was like a virus, making her stomach swirl and her head ache. When she slept, she dreamt of the harsh but compelling man who had made her his prisoner.
The presence of the old woman made her circumstances seem surreal. What twisted mind could have imagined such a reality? Never had her mind been so conscious of the limitations of the physical realm. While her memories of her former life were fresh, they were separated from her present by a wide untraversible gulf. Now was now, uncontrovertibly. She lived every second of her new existence with a torrid intensity.
Having unfastened Denise’s bonds, Tamara urged the girl to her knees. Smiling, she undid the straps that held the invasive, stifling gag in her mouth. She took the large glass of milk and pressed it to Denise’s lips. Denise drank it greedily, happy to replace the leathery taste of the gag. As the woman spooned the porridge onto her tongue, Denise savored the pasty taste. There were raisins in it and Denise took pleasure in her mouth being free to masticate them. Because of her near constantly gagged state, any use of her mouth was accompanied by a special delight. Tamara had let the gag dangle around Denise’s neck, and it shifted back and forth as Denise leaned over to gather in each flavorful spoonful of her morning meal.
When the bowl was empty, Tamara replaced the gag and carried the bowl and glass from the room. The gag’s musty flavor mingled with the aftertaste of Denise’s repast. Each time the gag was pressed home, she had to stifle a new round of tears. Nothing made her feel more imprisoned and dehumanized than the inability to speak. She yearned for human discourse. Even permission to speak a few words of simple greeting or thanks would have been sufficient to reaffirm her self-dignity. But, no words were permitted.
When Tamara returned to the cell, she unlocked Denise’s chain from the wall and pulled her to her feet. She led her from the cell by her chain. When they entered the hallway, Denise expected to be brought to the large bathroom to be bathed and groomed. Instead, the old lady had her squat over a drain in the floor. She was made to understand that she should pee and she did so, a torrent of yellow liquid splashing the floor beneath her. The old lady wiped her, and then had her stand and watch, as she took a hose from the wall and washed the remnants of the sharply smelling liquid down the drain. The woman patted Denise’s face affectionately and pulled her to a door opposite her cell. She opened it with a key and led Denise in. As the door slammed shut, Denise saw a long, rectangular table in the middle of the white tiled room. There were rings on the four corners of the table, obviously intended to imprison and render one helpless.
Denise, remembering her torture of the night before, quailed at the sight. Her stomach heaved and her knees grew weak. The old lady motioned for her to climb onto the table, but Denise, instead, retreated, fearing the worst. “What cruel torment am I now to be subject to?” she thought, panicking. The old lady slapped the table lightly, smiling, cooing unintelligible soft words to her. But Denise took no comfort from the woman’s soft brown eyes and her pleasant demeanor. She shook her head ‘no’, and pulled at her leash. Tamara’s words became harsher now, commanding obedience. Denise pulled back harder on the chain, trying to put more distance between herself and the dreaded table. Her eyes pleaded with her captor as she mumbled incoherent imprecations to be spared her fate.
Tamara’s eyes flashed with anger. She pulled the whip from her belt and smacked Denise harshly across the legs. The whip stung, but Denise did not relent her refusal to cooperate in her own abuse. The old woman became enraged and began to whip Denise wildly. Denise’s movements pulled the chain free of the old lady’s grasp as she retreated from the blows. Tamara forced her into a corner and slashed her body unmercifully.
When the old lady paused, Denise acknowledged her defeat. She sobbed miserably as she signaled her compliance with the woman’s demands. Warily, she moved herself over to the table and, placing her buttocks on the edge, rolled on to it. Sweat had broken on Tamara’s brow and she was out of breath. She stared at the girl fiercely and barked a command, indicating with her hand that Denise should lie on her stomach. Denise complied meekly, pressing her firm, tender breasts onto the tabletop, closing her eyes in fearful resignation.
The old lady quickly secured Denise’s ankles to the corners of the table, spreading her legs widely. She unlocked her bracelets and affixed each wrist to a ring. The table was long and narrow, and Denise lay splayed across its surface. Anticipating the worst, she flinched when Tamara placed her hand on her head, stroking her hair.
What happened next was wholly unexpected. Tamara cooed her into relative calmness, her deep, pleasant voice drowning out Denise’s sobs. The woman stepped back from Denise and took a large jar of cream from a drawer in the table. She moved to the table’s foot and began to apply the cream to Denise’s legs.
The old woman sang as she used her strong hands to massage Denise’s legs. She seemed to know her physiology well, as she traced the edge of each muscle, isolating it, and sending strong pulses of relaxation to Denise’s body. The old lady merrily urged tender warmth into Denise’s legs and buttocks. The cream brought a slight burning sensation as it was applied, releasing all of the tension that the prone girl’s body held.
At first, Denise thought the application of the salve to her skin was a prelude to some more sinister torment. But gradually, the rhythms of the old lady’s hands, the child like quality to her singing, induced Denise to allow the woman’s efforts to soothe her.
The back was next and Tamara seemed to know the outline of each vertebra, the delineations of each tendon and muscle. Denise moaned in pleasure as the firm hands exercised her back. She drifted into a becalmed state, belying her terror of minutes ago. The neck and shoulders were next and Tamara applied gentle, but firm pressure there, comforting the naked prisoner. Even the temples of her head were massaged, causing Denise to moan softly.
When she had finished massaging Denise’s back and the back of her thighs and calves, Tamara released Denise’s hands from the rings. She gently, but firmly, coaxed Denise to move her right hand to her left and fastened it in place. She then moved to the foot of the table and, releasing her ankles, urged the girl to roll over so that her front could be ministered to. Denise lay on her back and docilely allowed the woman to recapture and imprison her remaining limbs.
Tamara applied the same soothing energy to the front of Denise’s thighs and to her belly. She moved to her shoulders and the tendons that ran under her arms. She massaged the under side of Denise’s arms and even her hands and feet. By the time that the old lady finished with Denise’s feet, the young woman was in a semi-comatose state. Her body tingled with relaxed sensation, but her mind was adrift on a mild, gently rocking ocean.
Denise felt the old lady’s hands climb her legs, stroking them softly. She caressed the inside of Denise’s thighs, gently rubbing up against the protective lips of her sex. A small tingle of pleasure coursed through Denise at the seemingly accidental touch. The strong hands pushed up her belly, encircled her flaccid breasts and squeezed them tenderly. Denise, eyes closed, moaned at the pleasurable sensation of the caress of her mounds. She felt Tamara’s thumbs delicately flick her nipples, causing them to rise to tautness. Tamara was now sitting on the table next to Denise’s hip. Holding the breasts firmly, she leaned over and whispered softly soothing words into the young woman’s ears.
The restful pleasure of the massage had turned into a surge of incipient lust. Before she knew it, Denise’s distended slash began to moisten. She raised her head in ineffectual and desultory protest. When Tamara placed her lips on her teat, sucking at it soothingly, Denise laid her head back and succumbed, letting her passion build.
Tamara let her hand flow across Denise’s belly and stroked the insides of her thighs. She shifted breasts and evoked a moan from deep within Denise’s throat. Denise felt the old lady’s sensitive fingers explore the outside of her sex, deftly intruding between the engorging lips. The old lady allowed a finger to stray into the wet gash and trace a line up the entrance of the girl’s sheath to the little, hard button on the top.
Denise sighed as her clit was enflamed by the woman’s touch. She sighed again, as two extended fingers delved into her womb, pressing on the sensitive roof of the canal.
Slowly, but surely, the old lady urged the young woman to pleasure. Denise’s thighs shuddered and she dug her heels into the table. Her breath was coming in heavy gasps as her passion began to overtake her. As she felt her cunt tingle and throb with impending orgasm, Denise thrust her hips at the hand that was exciting her. When she came, she came with her whole body, rocking and shivering with delight. Pulse after pulse of warmth flowed over her. She cried out, her exclamations of ecstasy muffled by the leather plug that filled her mouth. The old lady was murmuring in her ear, urging her to release.
Finally, the throes of pleasure subsided. The hand slowed its ministrations. Tamara was stroking Denise’s hair gently, soothingly. Denise looked into her captor’s eyes with gratitude. Tamara drew her hand from Denise’s womb and waved it under her nose. The pungent smell of her own discharge sent one more shiver of pleasure through the girl.
Tamara’s act of sexual service on Denise put the woman’s other actions in a whole new light for her. Following the carnal massage, the old woman took Denise to the bathroom to bathe her. Every touch of Denise’s flesh by the strange woman was latent with sexual possibilities. As the woman bathed her, stroking the soapy sponge over her breasts and loins, Denise felt a slight arousal. When the old woman leaned against her back while brushing her hair, the warmth of her body echoed in Denise’s loins. Even the little pats and simple caresses heretofore thought of as a mere foible of a slightly mad woman were now all possible precursors to lust.
When the bathing and other toiletries were done, Tamara had one more thing to do. She had Denise lay back on the edge of the large and deep marble tub and spread her legs widely. Involuntarily, Denise’s cunt began to glisten with anticipation. The young girl’s rear was hanging just over the edge of the tile, her heels by her thighs. Tamara had a bowl of hot, steaming water and a small brush. She tossed a bar of soap into the bowl and swirled the brush around until a thick white lather erupted. She then took the brush and applied the lather to the delicate blond bush that surrounded Denise’s cunt. She produced a straight razor from her pocket and, unfolding it, began to sweep great swatches of Denise’s pubic hair away. Denise’s view was of the ceiling as she felt the fine edge of the razor drag across her skin. Her arms were uncomfortably crushed behind her back, but she dared not move lest the old woman be put off her stroke.
When Tamara was done, she rinsed Denise’s loins with a hose and then dried them off with a soft, white cotton towel. The old lady had, of course, been humming some folk tune from her childhood as she worked. She now gleefully addressed Denise in her foreign tongue as she rubbed her hand over the smooth mound. She pulled Denise to a sitting position and went to get a large handheld mirror. She held it under Denise’s loins at an angle so that she could see.
Denise beheld her now child-like cunt. Only a small tuft of blond hair remained, standing inches above the apex to her now prominent mound. Holding the mirror and chattering happily, the old woman spread the lips of Denise’s cunt with her other hand. Denise had never looked upon her own sex so closely before. She was shocked at the clearly defined slit, the clean lines of her nether lips, the small hole that gaped invitingly. She watched, mesmerized as the old lady stroked her finger up the length of the gash between her legs. Seeing, and at the same time feeling, the sensation of her cunt being stroked was an experience so erotic, she gasped. The old woman’s finger tickled the somnolent clit, and Denise watched it rise with excitement. She saw the moisture begin to flow between her lips. The old lady looked up at Denise and smiled, knowingly. She said something that sounded sultry and provocative.
When the old lady thought Denise had seen enough, she pulled the mirror aside and then led the girl from the room by her leash. They came to the top of the stairs and the old man opened the heavy, wooden, locked door at Tamara’s signal. His eyes poured over Denise’s gracious form, her clearly visible sexuality. The old lady just pushed him aside and led Denise to the living room where she affixed the chain to a ring set in the wall near the staircase that led upstairs.
For the next two hours, Denise watched as the old lady came and went. The old man had drifted away, and watching the woman was Denise’s only distraction. She disappeared upstairs for what seemed to be a long time and returned carrying an armload of sheets and pillowcases. Denise was sitting cross-legged on a small, thick throw rug by the bottom of the stairs. Tamara gently patted her head as she walked by.
The room was empty, Tamara off on one of her missions, when Denise saw the form of the man who had cruelly abused her the night before. He had come upon her suddenly and was looming over her, measuring her. Sweat broke out on Denise’s palms as she thought of the man’s brutality to her last night. A pit formed in her stomach. What would he want today, to drive her to distractive pleasure with his iron hard cock or to drag her back down to the dungeon to torment and abuse her?
The man’s bear paw-like hand grabbed Denise’s collar at the ring that was attached in the front and pulled her to her feet. He unhooked the leash from the wall and tugging on it, led Denise away. When he turned to walk up the stairs towards his bedroom, Denise almost broke into tears with relief. As she mounted the steps, her arousal quickened. She knew she was damned, but she yearned for the feel of the dangerous man’s steel like cock in her womb.
When they entered the Turk’s bedroom, he sat her down on the bed. She watched him as he undressed before her, noting the terrible scars that lined his stomach and arms. When he was disrobed, she admired the taut muscles, the broadness of his hips, the thickness of his thighs.
The Turk gazed back at his slave. His cock was hard with anticipation of its burial deep inside Denise’s body. He stepped towards her and pushed her onto her back on the bed. He swung her legs up and guided her to the middle of the firm, expansive mattress. It was a man’s bed, plainly decorated with simple light blue cotton sheets, a pair of thick, hard pillows.
Denise was resting on her bound arms. Her masked face was turned to her master. She felt him spread her legs and watched him absorb the view of her now naked cunt. He leaned over and placed his rough, hot lips upon it.
Denise sighed deeply with pleasure as she felt the man’s stiff tongue probe her welcoming quim. He pushed in and licked the inner folds, dragging his tongue around the circumference of her wet hole. He flicked the tip of his tongue over her hardened clit sending jolts of pleasure through Denise’s body. The mental image of her hairless cunt lavished by the man’s thick, hard tongue sent shivers through her. Fucking would never be the same now that she had a clear mental picture of her pussy in arousal.
She was panting hard when the Turk abandoned the gash between her legs and dragged his tongue across her belly and to her breasts. She could feel his stiff manhood against her thigh as his body loomed over her. His hands undid the straps of the mask and he pulled the gag free. He placed his lips upon hers and penetrated her mouth, laying his tongue upon hers, massaging it. Denise was overcome with passion. Her spread legs yearned to wrap themselves around the powerful thighs of the man. She was lost in a dizzying whirl of lust as their lips broke. Before she could think, she murmured softly to the strange man who seemed to own her soul, “Oh, fuck me, please, fuck me. I want your cock.”
Turk’s body jerked back. He looked at Denise, his eyes full of fire. He lashed his hand across her face, smacking it hard, viciously. He rose to his knees and slapped her face again with his other hand.
“Shut the fuck up!” he yelled. Denise was crying with terror. So quickly and unexpectedly had her moment of delirious pleasure been turned into a nightmare of violence. The Turk slapped her again.
“Your mouth is for fucking, cunt!” he roared at her. “No talking, only fucking and sucking dicks!” Denise trembled with fear as Turk pulled himself up over her, his knees to either side of her mouth. His buttocks lay on her breasts, pressing them flat against her chest. His hand grabbed her jaw and squeezed it harshly causing the terrified girl’s mouth to open in a distorted ‘O’. With his other hand he guided his manhood to its entrance. He leaned over so that his mouth was by her ear. He spoke lowly, in a rough, fearsome voice, “Your mouth is for fucking!”
Turk pressed his rigid cock past Denise’s quaking lips, past her tongue, depressing it in her mouth. He pressed it to the entrance of her throat, holding her head still firmly with his massive hands. He paused at the throat’s entrance, waiting for the girl to gain a full appreciation of his message. When she started to gag, he thrust himself in, causing the girl to gurgle and whine. He waited, his cock deep inside Denise’s esophagus, until the flailing of her legs and the bucking of her chest told him that she was about out of air. He pulled his cock out to the edge of her lips, watching as she gasped for breath. When she had had several gulps, he entered the tight, hot passage again. Again he held his cock there while Denise gagged and coughed. When satisfied that she was on the verge of panic, he pulled back.
The next time he drove his cock home, he started a merciless stroking against the walls of Denise’s throat. Each time, he pulled out long enough for Denise to suck in a gasp of air and then plunged ruthlessly down again. He was truly fucking the frightened girl’s mouth.
Nothing could be clearer to her now. Her mouth was for fucking. She was not a person, she was a fucking animal.
When the Turk felt his climax coming, he pressed as far down Denise’s throat as he could go. Denise felt her neck bulge as the fat, hard manhood blocked the passageway, seemingly its entire length. She felt it pulse as the Turk’s white discharge flowed deep inside her. His hot sack rested on her chin, his stomach pressed against her face. His hands gripped her head tightly as he grunted loudly and viciously at each throb, as each spurt of sperm was jetted out. Finally, he was spent, but he let his cock rest sheathed in Denise’s throat until he heard her whine and plead for mercy. He pulled his cock from her mouth, dribbling a strand of cum across her lower lip. She was sobbing heavily, gasping for breath. Disregarding her profound dismay, he grabbed the gag and pushed it home. He buckled it behind her head tightly.
Turk’s hostile lust was not satisfied. She had broken a cardinal rule, had taken advantage of his yearning for tenderness to utter words of need in his presence. He slapped her breasts hard, leaving a bright red mark upon them. Denise squealed in pain. Again and again he slapped them, pushing the girl down each time she tried to rise and bend over to take them from his reach. He then began slapping her thighs and rear, intense, forceful slaps that echoed through the room. He slapped her ass until it burned a bright red. Still not satisfied, he spread her legs and landed two mighty blows directly on Denise’s sex.
Denise moaned and wailed as she was cruelly assaulted. When the Turk’s hand struck her cunt, she doubled over in pain.
Driven by passionate anger, The Turk’s manhood had revived quickly. He pushed the still moaning girl to her stomach and pulled her hips back up so that she crouched on her knees. He pressed his rod against the brown star between the sobbing girl’s cheeks and rammed it home. Denise’s unprepared anus burned as the thick flesh tore at its tissues. Turk pounded away unmercifully, his heat upon him. Denise gave a little muffled cry each time that Turk’s hips slammed against her buttocks. He was leaning over her, his chest pressing her bound arms down, his hands on her shoulders, compacting her into a small ball of abused flesh. He came quickly, with a roar. His hands squeezed the muscles of Denise’s shoulders tightly, capturing the pressure points there, sending a piercing wave of pain throughout her. She emitted, through her gag, a long dismal, desperate moan.
The Turk let his softening cock slide free of the girl’s bowels. He pushed her over callously and grabbed her by the hair. He pulled her head onto his lap and undid the gag once again.
“Clean my cock, slut,” he ordered sternly. He directed her mouth to his flaccid meat and pressed her lips upon it.
“Suck on it until it’s hard again,” he told her, “or I’ll whip you until you bleed.”
Denise needed no reminder of the Turk’s cruelty or the painful torments he could inflict on her. She grabbed the brown stained, wrinkled cock with her lips and sucked it into her mouth. Her stomach lurched as she thought of where the Turk’s dick had been, but soon the acrid taste of her own wastes gave way to the salty flavor of the Turk’s flesh. She breathed deep the aroma of his sweaty loins. As the cock began to harden, her own loins began to melt and burn. She cursed herself, as she could not avoid her own passionate stimulation. The callous man was right, her mouth was for fucking. The sensation of her tongue wrapping itself over the Turk’s shaft, the fullness she felt in her mouth, impassioned her. The Turk’s meat felt right in her mouth. As she bobbed her head up and down, encouraged by the Turk’s tight grip on her hair, she made the connection between the thick wad of leather that she had held stuffed into her mouth continuously since her arrival at this macabre mansion, and the hot manhood that filled it now. Now she would be conscious of its representative nature every minute of the day.
Turk pulled Denise’s head from his loins. She cringed as he filled her mouth again with the long, thick plug and buckled the mask around her head. He pushed her onto her back, knelt between her legs and rubbed his stiff rod along the moistened lips of her cunt. He leaned over her, staring into her face.
“You wanted my cock, slut,” he said to her quietly. “Well here it is.”
Turk pressed the bulbous head of his solid tool past the engorged lips of Denise’s pussy. Slowly, he stroked back and forth. He had come twice within a few minutes and he was content to let his lust grow gradually. Denise regretted his restraint. Her pussy burned and each stroke of the Turk’s cock triggered a wave of pleasure.
The Turk was demonstrating his complete mastery of her. Realizing this, she fought futilely against the rising tide of her lust. Soon, she could no longer hold back and she came, hard, her heels rising and digging into the back of the Turk’s thighs. And yet the Turk kept up his rhythmic stroking of her pulsing sheath. Her spasms of pleasure had just receded when she felt them begin to rise again. She begged heaven for the strength to resist the friction on her pussy’s walls, the long, sensuous trek of the Turk’s cock against her tingling clit.
Three times he made her come. Each time she moaned and gave out muffled cries. Her body shook with convulsive pleasure. After her third orgasm, she could feel the Turk’s thrusts become deeper, stronger. His hips began to slap against hers as his blood rose. A slow, meandering groan escaped his lips as his cock filled with jism. As he came, he continued his deep, forceful thrusts into Denise’s loins. When she felt the hot liquid fill her sheath, she came again.
The Turk lay heavily atop the panting woman. His lust was spent. Pulling himself from her soggy cunt, he got off of the bed and went into the bathroom.
Denise heard the shower running behind the closed door. She was overcome with the mix of her emotions. Largely, she was ashamed at her wantonness. She felt complicit in her own abasement. She could sense the Turk’s semen as it seeped from her well ploughed holes. Her rear still burned from his invasion. Her jaw ached from his callous assault. Yet she still yearned for his hot cock. She could feel its presence in her mouth as she shifted her teeth around the thick hard gag that filled it. The benumbed girl rolled to her side and drew up her knees. Her back was to the room and she could see the lake through the window, the late morning sun shimmering on it. She heard the bathroom door open and the man’s heavy footsteps. She heard the rustle of cloth as he dressed. She did not stir. The Turk fastened the leash to the back of her collar and linked it to the ring in the headboard. He left the room.
She lay there, enjoying the peace and solitude of the moment. Her thighs were sticky with cum, and the tender soft skin on them stuck together as she shifted her legs. She was nothing but a whore now, she thought. How easy it had been to change from the bright, alert, confident woman she had been to the slavish whore who wet herself at the sight of a rampant cock. Her constant nudity and total availability made everything sexual. Even now, as she lay there in the bed, balled up, she felt the openness of her rear passage, still dilated from the forceful thrusts of her master.
It was not for about thirty minutes that the old woman came for her. Denise did not stir when she heard her enter and so the woman sat next to her on the bed. She stroked Denise’s thigh and sang a little melody to her, rubbing it gently. It was soothing and Denise began to cry softly. What a terrible mixture of cruelty and sweetness, she thought. This morning, the very hand that calmed her now had beat her with a whip.
Tamara pulled at Denise until she rolled over on her back. She undid the chain, fastened it to the front and pulled her from the bed. She led her to the bathroom where she washed her with the shower hose. She soaped her sex and rear thoroughly. She let her pee. The caress of the warm water of the shower replenished Denise’s body. When the girl was dry, Tamara led her from the room and back downstairs. She led her to the dining room and locked her to a leg of the table while she went into the kitchen. She came out with three large bowls with spoons. It was lunchtime and the house once more became a strangely domestic place. The old man came in and, looking Denise in the eye, winked at her. She had not yet heard from this sturdy old man, but from his not so subtle glances she knew that it was just a matter of time.
The Turk appeared dressed in thickly whaled, rust colored, corduroy pants and an Irish knit sweater. Tamara appeared with a large tureen of steaming soup. The Turk sat down at the end of the table next to where Denise knelt. She shivered in fear and shied away from him. Her movement caught his eye and he turned his head to look at her.
“Spread your legs,” he commanded in a low but emphatic voice. Denise, who had been kneeling with her legs together, her buttocks resting on the back of her calves obeyed instantly. “Wider,” he said.
The girl widened her thighs. She knelt now, open to him, her labia widened, the naked lips visible. Her spread legs forced her to kneel straighter, no longer having her calves under her. This, in turn, made her soft pale breasts more prominent. She was presented for her master.
The trio ate mostly in silence. Denise could smell the aromatic aroma of the soup as it wafted through the room. She could not keep her eyes off of the strong, scarred hands of her tormentor, hands that had beaten her cruelly not much more than an hour ago. She felt the ghosts of those hands on her body as she knelt so clearly available for her owner’s whims.
The trio ignored her as they finished their repast. The old man got up first and mumbling something under his breath, and walked from the room. The Turk got up next. He cast a sideways glance at the obedient girl and left, striding purposively. Tamara got up and began clearing the table. On her last trip, she led Denise into the kitchen where she permitted her to lap up her own portion of soup from a bowl in the corner. When she had filled herself, Denise knelt by her bowl in silence watching the old lady put away the remainder of the pots and pans.
When Tamara had finished, she came over to Denise and picked up the bowl. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small piece of chocolate. She proffered it to the bound girl, saying, “Eat, eat.”
Denise seized the chocolate with her teeth and drew it into her mouth. The sweet flavor overwhelmed her. She looked up at the old lady with gratitude. As she chewed it, savoring every bit, she chided herself. How delightful a small sweet was to her now! What little it took to please her! She smiled at the old lady as Tamara approached her to replace the gag. She wanted to thank her for this little kindness, but knew the rules well. Her mouth was for fucking and not talking. She opened her mouth and received the gag obediently.
The Turk had gone to the dock and released a canoe he kept there. It was his habit, when home, to explore the hills and forests that made up the huge state park that surrounded his mansion. He enjoyed the solitude, and trudging up and down the mountain trails kept him in shape. He rowed the canoe about five miles down the lake and pulled the canoe ashore. This was one of his favorite spots. Climbing the steep hill, he ascended the rocky crag that loomed out over the lake. An hour and a half later, he was at its top. From here he could see up and down the length of the lake. Forest and mountains loomed for miles. There was always a strong breeze, there being nothing to assuage the gusts that blew down the valley.
The solitary figure sat still, brooding on his life. He had spent most of it full of hate. He had destroyed countless lives, ripping comely white females from their homes and condemning them to cruel, abysmal fates. Now he was in love or what he thought was love. And with a woman he had spent perhaps two hours with, had kissed only once. The memory haunted him. Like the prisoner, Denise, in his fortress home, he wondered where she was, what had happened to her. Was she dead? Was she cursing his soul somewhere as she was callously used by whatever cruel man or woman had claimed her? Would the torment of her memory ever leave him?
While the Turk spent his afternoon wandering the verdant forests of this New York State wilderness, Denise spent hers at the end of a small length of chain. Tamara had brought her back to the huge room that served as the Great Hall of the mansion. She knelt by the wide, winding wooden stairs that led up to the sleeping areas of the house. Tamara hustled to and fro, patting her on the head occasionally as she passed. Twice she stopped and let Denise drink from a flask of juice, cold, sweet apple juice, freshly pressed. Once, she took the girl to a small bathroom where she was allowed to relieve herself and empty her bowels.
Late in the afternoon, as the October light shined through the vast windows that served the room began to dim, Tamara unleashed the girl and brought her put to an enclosed porch that looked out over the lake.
The Turk’s mansion stood alone on its little island and was built upon a hill. Depending where you were in the house and the time of day, you could follow the sun as it passed overhead. Only the north side lacked direct sunlight, but at night the northern stars could be seen shimmering in all their glorious brightness.
The porch looked out on the southwest side of the house and so it received the sun’s rays almost all of the day. It stuck out from the house and was glassed on three sides. It commanded a wonderful vista. Tamara sat on a small couch that was situated against the wall of the house. From this perch, she daily enjoyed the colorful sunsets that marked the divide between day and night. Just now, as she sat calmly with a steaming cup of tea in her hands, the reds and yellows spread across the sky by the waning sun were at their peak, set off by the clear sky of cobalt blue. Denise knelt on a small rug near the old lady’s feet. She marveled at the beauteous panorama. She was glad that the old lady had allowed her to share it with her. She looked up and saw a gentle calmness in the woman’s face. Tamara looked back down at her and patted her lap. Denise happily acceded to the woman’s affectionate gesture and rose and sat across the tops of the old woman’s thighs.
Denise was surprised at the sense of calmness that the sunset had brought her and the delight she took from the old lady’s body, as she sat with her head nestled in her shoulder. The old lady was singing a sad refrain, doubtless some tale of lost lovers from her youth. She had her left arm around Denise’s waist. Her other caressed the tops of Denise’s thighs.
The two sat there quietly for a long while. As the sun started to sink below the gently rolling mountains to the west, Denise felt the woman’s hand nudge her legs apart. She kissed the top of Denise’s head as she ran her hand lightly across the inside of her thighs. She allowed Denise to lean back, and she spread the young girl’s legs open. Denise welcomed the woman’s caresses. It seemed all too appropriate to be naked on this woman’s lap, gagged and bound, her helpless prisoner, but yet to feel comfort and kindness in the woman’s touch.
The lips of Denise’s cunt were glistening when the old woman’s hands delicately pried them open. She ran her hand over them, probing the soft, yielding flesh in between with the length of her finger. Denise’s nipples were hardened with expectation. The woman took her time, gently stroking Denise’s cunt, softly rubbing the hard nipple of pleasure at its top. Denise closed her eyes and let the warmth from her sex spread throughout her body. Slowly but surely, her passion built.
When she sensed the young girl approaching her crisis, the old lady hugged her tight and softly stroked the hardened clit. Denise’s thighs shuddered as she came, her breasts swayed as her chest expanded and contracted in her lust. When the orgasm came, it seemed to roll over the young girl. It was unlike the hard, passionate throbs that had overtaken her that morning when the Turk had plundered her cunt unmercifully. It was more like a warm, pulsing wave of release, bespeaking contentment and affection.
The two women sat silently, conjoined, as the sky began to darken. There was just a feint splash of light over the western sky. Tamara kissed her charge on the nipple of her breast, her lush lips surrounding it, drawing a long, wistful sigh from her captive. That done, she patted the girl’s thigh with her hand and spoke softly to her, “Up, up.” Denise obeyed. The old lady rose and, reaffixing the leash to Denise’s collar, led her back into the house.
The Turk did not return to the house until well after dark. Denise had knelt by Turk’s empty chair as the two old people ate silently. When they had finished and the table cleared, Denise was brought into the kitchen for her meal. She was kneeling over her bowl, mouthing the small chunks of meat and vegetables that Tamara had filled it with, when she heard the Turk’s heavy footsteps. Denise looked over her shoulder and saw the dark visaged man take a seat at the shiny, steel covered island that separated the cooking area from the rest of the room. Tamara brought out a steaming plate of food and set it before him, together with a large glass of deep red wine. The Turk ate quietly, staring at the figure of his kneeling prisoner.
Denise feared the Turk more than she had ever feared anyone. However, she looked back at her meal and resolved to finish it. She was conscious of his eyes burning into her as she knelt, her thighs spread widely so as to permit her to lean over and place her face in the bowl. Her rear cheeks were spread, openly displaying the small ring of flesh that the Turk had so cruelly pierced earlier that day. Her naked slit peaked out from under her, positioned conveniently for rear penetration.
The Turk watched he girl as he ate. His blood was boiling. The contentment he had sought during his prolonged excursion into the wild had escaped him. He wanted Cheryl but he had Denise. Was she the next best thing or a taunting reminder of his helpless obsession?
He waited until the girl had finished supping and Tamara had held a tall cool glass of milk for her to drink. When Denise emerged from the water closet following a post meal urination, Turk was standing there waiting for her. A cold shiver went through her as Turk took the leash from the old woman and led her from the kitchen. Denise remembered her savage treatment from the night before and had to hold herself in check, lest she dissolve into fearful panic.
The stairs to the dungeon led off of the dining room. The Turk led her there from the kitchen. The heavy, wooden door loomed as a foreboding sentinel. But, to Denise’s untrammeled relief, she was led past it into the Great Hall. The stairs were lighted by small sconces on the walls and they cast an eerie light as Denise followed her master up the stairs. Once in the Turk’s room and on his bed, he unfastened her arms from behind her back, where they had been bound uselessly all of the day, and attached her wrists to the ring in the head board. As the Turk disrobed in the dim light, his hard flesh glistened. Before coming to the bed, he closed the light, plummeting the room into near darkness. The moon was full and its yellow light cast shadows of the tall, sturdy oak that stood outside into the room. Turk knelt on the bed and unfastened Denise’s gag. He lay his body over hers, spreading her thighs with his knees and covered the grateful girl’s lips with his.
Denise cast aside her guilt over her passionate yearning for the Turk’s embrace. She fed hungrily on his hot tongue as it explored her mouth. She pressed her thighs hard against his with desire. The Turk circled the arms held above the lusting girl’s head with his large, rough hands. He breathed fire in to her mouth.
Although the Turk had callously penetrated Denise’s every orifice, she had yet to place her hands on his cock. She yearned to now, wanting to guide the hot, stiff rod to her lush pussy. It burned with desire for him.
As if sensing her need, the Turk took his hand from Denise’s arm and reached down for his manhood. He probed in the darkness for the girl’s wet gash. He found her dilated nether lips and slid his cock into the soft, hot flesh.
Denise moaned as she felt the Turk fill her. Their lips were still pressed together, and she sucked long and hard on the hot tongue that filled her mouth. The Turk was plunging wildly into her pussy, grunting each time he sheathed his sword to the hilt. Dissatisfied with its reach, he reached for Denise’s thighs and pressed them towards her chest. Denise felt his cock penetrate deeply into her pulsing gash. She yearned to swallow it with her cunt, wanted to suck it inside her.
Oblivious to all else but their passion, the couple bucked and heaved against one another. The Turk felt his loins fill with telltale heat and rammed his cock home. As he jetted spurt after spurt of his hot cum into her cunt, Denise cried out and thrust her hips up to meet him. Her orgasm hit with a jolt. Their tongues were still intertwined and Denise poured her lustful moans down the Turk’s throat. Finally, their lusts spent, the two collapsed.
Turk was sated. He had, temporarily, driven his demons from him. His whole body sagged with physical and emotional release. A few moments later, he was fast asleep.
Denise lay under the heavy, somnolent man, her arms still stretched out above her. The Turk’s deep breaths rocked her gently. For the first time in three days, her mouth was left uncovered. She reveled in its freedom. The Turk’s head lay along side hers, and she placed a light kiss on his temple, careful lest she disturb him. She yearned to encircle him with her arms, to whisper her blissfulness into his ear. She knew that she dared not. She would do nothing to destroy this heavenly interlude. A small tear ran down her cheek, sparkling in the soft, comforting moonlight. She lay her head back and fell asleep.
The moon had fled and the room was almost pitch dark when Denise felt the Turk stirring. He unleashed her hands from the head of the bed and pulled her up. Silently, gently, he had her stand and rebound her arms behind her back. Denise stifled a cry as she realized that she was to be cast back into the dungeon for the night. The Turk led her to the door and, before opening it, reaffixed her leash. When he opened the door, Denise saw the old woman sitting in a small chair in the hall, fast asleep. She stirred to wakefulness at the opening of the door and smiled at the naked couple. Turk placed his hands on either side of Denise’s head and kissed her, a long, soothing kiss redolent of their passion. When he was done, he gently, almost kindly, eased the gag back into her mouth. He buckled it behind her head and handed the leash to the old woman. Denise watched as he closed the door, retreating into his room. She felt a soft tug on her leash and she let herself be guided down the stairs.