Rape Toys

Chapter 11 – Ringmaster

Pablo rapped out the code knock on the hotel room door. His pets, Melitta the Mouth Whore and Jennifer the Pain Pig, stood obediently at his side, smiling prettily, chests inflated, like good little bitches. A heavyset bruiser opened the door, gave them the hairy eyeball and ushered them in.

Jennifer's young life was now totally dedicated to sex and violence. Thick hard penises were pounded into her brutally and punched in and out savagely, unloading their slime into and onto her tender young body. The motivational beatings that accompanied Pablo's performance appraisals were wonderfully educational, robbing her of all self-respect since; according to her extremely demanding new master, she didn't even make a very good whore.

Pablo introduced Jennifer to the Mouth Whore of the Month club. The circle of heavyset men sat in their chairs, watching cold-eyed as Pablo stripped her. A whore's clothes never take long to remove. Pablo simply pulled the little bows holding together the two thin wafers of flimsy, clinging fabric, one covering her front and the other her back. Since, under Pablo's tutelage, she wore no underwear, Jennifer was instantly ready for action, flashing her gash and jiggling her tits for them, a thoroughly broken, fear-trained fuckslut.

Graciously accepting a Scotch and Soda from his hosts, Pablo explained the routine to his pet pain pig.

"The rules are simple, slut. Your hands are handcuffed behind you. You go around the circle sucking off each of these men in turn. The quality of a mouth whore is measured by how many times she can go around the circle until she fails to produce a result. If you don't measure up to the minimum standards, I remove your clit to help you focus on your art."

The bad news just never stopped coming. Jennifer swallowed hard as he pulled out the handcuffs, twisted her arms behind her back and cold steel was cinched tight around her slim wrists. In a small, lisping voice, the toothless mouth whore had just one teensy-weensy little question:

"How many timeth izza minimum?"

Pablo threw his drink in her face. A wet face slaps better. A man with rich experience in pimp-slapping a whore, Pablo aimed for the middle of her cheek. There was a sound like a pistol shot as Pablo hit her hard, fingers spread to amplify the force of the slap and leave a red hand-mark burning on her cheek. Jennifer staggered awkwardly in her high spike heels. The circle of men grinned, stiffening visibly. They all loved watching a bitch getting worked over.

When Jennifer regained her balance, Pablo slapped his pet pain pig vigorously backhand and forehand, cupping his palm for deep bruising on the forehand stroke and aiming his knuckle carefully on the backhand stroke, fanning her face with a savage flurry of vicious slaps to make sure that he had the dumb cunt's attention. Her knees gave way. To keep her from falling, he played a quick game of 'purple nurple' for his appreciative audience, pinching her nipples hard and pulling her up and towards him. He breathed his words into her flaming, flinching face.

"Nobody likes a bitch that's even thinking of giving up as soon as she performs the minimum! I want the most from my sluts. You keep going until you fail, fuckface."

Her ears ringing, her vision blurred by tears, Jennifer nodded numbly.

Silently, squatting naked in black nylons and high spike heels, Jennifer began going around the circle, squatting like a toad, legs splayed wide, exposing herself shamelessly in front of each man, giving head to a group of very well endowed gentlemen who believed in burying their over-sized members deep. This only permitted her to breath on the outstroke, so poor Jennifer was soon panting prettily. She came to dread the moment when each one gripped her by the ears, rammed his jumbo jackhammer down her throat and pumped lustily, almost ripping her aching ears off in his enthusiasm. At that point, her mind melting with fear, she worked furiously to get them off as quickly as possible so that she could resume breathing normally.

Mission accomplished, she would straighten, her belly queasy with a fresh load of wiggling sperm. She would totter, in a whore's sexy saunter, to squat obscenely in front of her next customer. The high spike heels were awkward to walk in, hobbling Jennifer nicely, forcing her to adopt a hip grinding whore's walk when she moved. They were also impossible to remove unless you had the key to the small padlocks that held the ankle straps firmly in place.

She soon settled into a hard-slurping grind of licking each thick penis erect, sucking strongly on the knob to stiffen it, massaging each tumescent member with her toothless gums. Taking a deep breath, she gulped hard as a rock hard piston was jammed down her throat, wiry pubic hair scoured her lips and hairy balls banged against her chin. Her gasping, choking face was humped hard until the queasy moment that filled her stomach with powerful squirts of oyster juice. After that, she tottered over to squat obscenely, legs splayed wide, in front of her next customer.

Squatting and sucking like a wet vac, Jennifer at last failed to run the flag up the flagpole. Instantly the central link in her handcuffs was clipped to a chain hanging from the ceiling in the centre of the circle of chairs. Her wrists were pulled up behind her, higher than her shoulders, forcing her to lean forward from the waist. Pablo gestured to Melitta.

"Show the dumb cunt how it's done."

Insolently, Melitta the mouth whore strolled over to the limp dick that had defeated Jennifer. Sucking his hairy balls into her mouth, she hummed a bit to tickle him. She turned her head sideways and sucked the underside of his stiffening member into her mouth. Humming like a vibrator, she rubbed her warm wet tongue against the underside of his now throbbing member from side to side, working her way up towards the purple knob. A milky dewdrop glistened on the tip. Melitta sucked his entire dick deep into her throat and he instantly bathed her tonsils in bull gravy. She gulped it down like a total pro and turned smugly to Jennifer.

"That was easy. You really are a loser."

She winked slyly at Jennifer.

"Spread your legs and I'll give you a little consolation prize and a quick lesson in carpet munching to boot."

Melitta's voice vibrated with warm sympathy.

"Come on, honey, it'll feel good and you'll learn something useful."

Jennifer stared into Melitta's warm brown eyes, grateful for the smallest drop of decency and understanding.

"OK"

She lowered her head and spread her legs. Melitta licked her labia. Waves of warmth suffused Jennifer's loins as Melitta teased her clit out of its hood, stiffening it to throbbing erectness between Jennifer's parted thighs. Jennifer's dark brown eyes glazed with lust. She groaned on the very verge of orgasm.

Melitta stopped abruptly.

Jennifer's lips turned from a frustrated moan into a silent 'O' of horror as pleasure merged with pain, agony with ecstasy. Working between her legs, Pablo dug deep with the sharp point of his pruning knife as he excised every trace of Jennifer's love button.

As Pablo used a cigarette lighter to sear the sound, Melitta looked at her pityingly.

"Jennifer darling, the useful thing you learn from this is not to trust anybody!"

Jennifer passed out, the circle of men laughed coarsely and Melitta went back to work.

Chapter 11b– Out Of The Frying Pan...

Recovering in a high security military hospital used by spies, CIA agents and their ilk, Star thankfully blessed the Homeland Security forces. They had busted those Arabian asses in fine style. The debriefing had gone very well, she thought. Talking about her experiences had a healing effect mentally. When she got out, some psychotherapy was definitely indicated.

In a room down the hall, her troubles were being viewed from a very different perspective. The professionals of Homeland Security were watching through a one-way mirror as some of their colleagues sweated an Iranian bitch. The young student was hooded and had assumed the position. Stark naked, she was leaning forward against the wall with her legs spread. Her back was towards them. They could all see her smooth shaved cunt as she waited alone in the room. She had been waiting for quite a while, nude in a cool room. Her brown nipples were tight and puckered. She was quivering with fear and shivering with the cold. Her big tits trembled delicately and her goose-pimpled skin had a bluish tint. Dr. Dan Dakota (a.k.a. the Spin Doctor) addressed his white-coated colleagues.

"Gentlemen..."

He gave a perfunctory nod to Dr. Georgia Washington as the door to the interrogation room burst open suddenly. The Iranian bitch's boobs bounced as she jerked in surprise. Her breath started coming in short pants. Dr. Dan continued as the interrogation team ran their hands over the bitch's bare bod, patting her down, feeling her up, letting her know who owned her ass.

"... and Lady, we have a problem. If news of this leaks out, we have a P.R. nightmare. The fact that these people are continuing to operate successfully within the continental United States is very bad news. September 11 ^th was bad enough. Not being able to find Saddam's weapons of mass destruction, weapons that the President assured everyone actually existed, is not good either. The situation in Iraq is deteriorating daily, making us look bad. That these people could actually kidnap, rape and torture a media newsperson in our own country is intolerable. The fact that the Arabs sent the info they had tortured out of their prisoners in a long, encrypted message to their colleagues over the Internet before we could effect a rescue would make us seem slow and stupid if it becomes known. This could adversely affect our already damaged credibility and (ahem!) our budgets."

Dr. Georgia Washington leaned forward as everyone watched gloved fingers dip between the Iranian bitch's legs. The bitch whimpered as strong fingers parted her cuntlips and probed intimately. Knowing Dr. Dakota, delightful possibilities blossomed for the only female observer.

"What do you suggest, Dr. Dakota? I smell cover-up!"

The statuesque black-haired beauty's dark eyes flashed as the bitch's buns were parted and she was probed anally. Dr. Dakota nodded sanguinely.

"Exactly! You've been giving Star a warm sympathetic ear."

She opened her mouth to speak. Dr. Dan eyed Dr. Washington with the cool contempt he awarded all women, brusquely interrupting her before she managed to get a single syllable out.

"There is no need to report. We were eavesdropping and heard everything. It turns out that she's new in town, has just broken up with her boyfriend and has practically talked herself out of her job. Mentally, she's a basket case, having been fucked over repeatedly by teams of drooling perverts, not just the Arabs. What interesting and thoroughly hellish lives our celebrities lead! Nobody knows that she's here. Nobody knows that the Arabs kidnapped her except those Aryan Masters and they're not going to be talking about that little embarrassment to anyone. In other words, she's ripe for the plucking."

Dr. Washington cleared her throat as the bullet shaped tip of the electric prod was oiled up and inserted deep into the Iranian bitch's cunt. The bitch's voice shook with terror as the long shaft of the prod was moved suggestively deep inside her. Her voice squeaked each time the tip of the prod tapped her cervix.

"Ahem! You're not suggesting that we arrange for her to be a guest of the Aryan Masters in their so-called 'Pig Pens'?"

Dr. Dakota rolled his eyes impatiently, snorting derisively at such ignorant foolishness. Everyone grinned as the Iranian bitch screamed hysterically that she didn't know what they wanted.

"Certainly not! Those stupid Montana Nazis could be busted at any moment and then we'd really have egg all over our faces."

Dr. Washington hastily nodded, blushing furiously. She wanted badly to be one of the guys. She spoke up hopefully.

"I've finished the rough draft of that Female Interrogation Guide you requested."

Dr. Dakota nodded.

"Good! It's important to get the female perspective."

The Iranian bitch screamed as the first jolt of the prod fried her ovaries. She belly flopped onto the cement floor. The man with the prod skilfully followed her down, keeping it firmly in place deep inside her spasming bare body. The interrogation team held her spread-eagled, facedown on the floor, as the man with the prod applied a few more blasts between her legs to cook her uterus and fry her eggs. Dr. Washington adopted her best suck-up manner.

"What do you have in mind for poor hard-luck Star?"

"She seems to trust you."

His tone of voice conveyed utter contempt for anyone stupid enough to do this. He obviously didn't rate the lovely Dr. Washington's skills very highly.

"I suggest you escort her offshore where you work out the kinks in your interrogation guide using her as a guinea pig. Tell her there's a special clinic for people like her there."

"Offshore!! Like to one of our allies in South America? That's brilliant!"

The current government, from the President himself on down, preferred shipping troublesome people to countries that were definitely on Amnesty International's black list. These were countries that didn't believe in human rights, countries where an opponent or bothersome person could be humiliated and degraded freely, forced to beg, tortured cruelly and made to scream without any troublesome civil liberties weenies whining away about it. This isn't to say that Homeland Security didn't give itself a lot of leeway at home, particularly with foreign nationals.

"What of the other girl – the researcher - Kirstie?"

"What if she becomes yet another casualty of our celebrated War On Drugs?"

Everyone laughed genially. The heavily funded U. S. War On Drugs was a worse failure than the campaign against terrorists. Never had illegal drugs been cheaper or more readily available. The bureaucrats loved the huge staff, gigantic budgets and fun cloak-and-dagger activities that went with the so-called War, along with the complete lack of accountability for results.

"Why don't we just set her free and let one of our pet free-range psychos take care of her? Then there's no government tie-in. We just toss her out in somebody's stalking ground, he grinds her to ratshit and when her body's discovered months or even years later, nobody even thinks of us."

Dr. Dakota nodded approvingly at his younger colleague and did his Jean-Luc Picard imitation.

"Excellent suggestion! Make it so!"

They watched with interest as their naked victim's tightly clenched buttocks were prised apart and the electric proc forced into her anus. They listened in surprise and wonderment as their Iranian guest began shrieking out names, addresses; inside information on safe houses, message drops and the details of sophisticated money transfer techniques. It seemed that the Iranian bitch knew something after all. Dr. Dakota smiled at his delighted colleagues.

"You see? The answers are there. It's simply a matter of knowing who to ask and how to phrase the question!"