Holly's Home Invasion
Part 15
by Andromeda
As I lay bound and submissive on my raping table with a fresh cock at my cunt I
was quietly reassessing my situation. I was thrilled, almost ecstatic about my
training so far. My freshly raped vagina felt wonderfully warm. It positively
glowed. My first training rape had been skillfully administered. Sternly and
expertly gagged and bound, I had been dexterously masturbated to draw out my
secretions then firmly and forcefully fucked and given my first taste of orgasm
under restraint. It had been so wonderfully intense, so powerful, so utterly
different from the flatly insipid climaxes I had experienced in my life as a
free woman that it had given me an entirely fresh perspective on my predicament.
Being enslaved wasn't so bad, I decided cheerfully. Captivity had its
compensations. I was starting to like it. In fact I no longer minded that my
humiliation was still being recorded and displayed on closed circuit TV. I was
proud of my bonds, pleased that my trainer had arranged to have me publicly
exhibited in restraints, secretly thrilled that I was fully stripped, bent over
and forced to display my well fucked and still dripping snatch to a roomful of
slavers. I was adjusting to captivity, being retrained for a fresh new life as a
slave. And I wasn't too old to be retrained, I thought brightly. A lot of women
changed their lives at my age. And in any case I was tired of being a teacher. I
felt girlishly thrilled about my new life in bondage. I felt like the heroine in
an adventure novel, captured in a raid by armed marauders, bound and gagged and
ruthlessly raped then led away into slavery by her captors. It was exciting,
even romantic. I almost felt like a teenager again.
Naturally there were negatives. Being caned was painful and humiliating. I had
already had a taste of it, been disciplined for trying to slip my bonds, and the
correction had been harshly and sternly administered. My asscheeks still smarted
from the punishment. But I knew I had deserved it. And the correction had taught
me that a slave caught trying to escape her restraints can expect to be
punished. I'd been taught a lesson. There were probably other lessons that I'd
have to be taught so I knew I could expect to be disciplined again as the need
arose. Being beaten and flogged was an unpleasant but inevitable part of being a
slave and it was definitely something I'd have to get used to. But in any case I
had to admit that the pain and humiliation induced by a good sound caning was a
singularly effective teaching tool. I was a teacher myself and I smiled inwardly
when I considered how pleased I would have been to have had such a handy
expedient at my disposal for use at school. I knew one or two girls in my
literature class who would most definitely have benefited from having had their
panties unceremoniously lowered in front of the class and given a sternly
administered correction on their bared buttocks.
But floggings aside, I felt tremendously elated about my training so far. My
first training rape had been excruciatingly pleasurable and my orgasm
delightfully satisfying. I wanted more and I was pleased at how promptly a fresh
new penis had been slipped into the entrance to my warm and throbbing pussy. I
waited for it to be lodged inside me but the slaver, whoever he was, held back
and toyed with me, reaming me slowly, running his glans playfully over my clit
to moisten me with his precum. I pushed out my buttocks invitingly and grunted
insistently through my panties to indicate how eager and ready I was to be
taken. If I hadn't had my hands tied behind me I would have reached out and
wantonly drawn the teasingly playful shaft into my snatch. I ached to feel it
lodged inside me, longed to be taken and brought to another thrillingly exciting
climax.
'Looks like this one wants it real bad, Jim,' I heard the slaver comment behind
my back, 'she's just begging for it. Look at how she's pushing her ass out at me
doing her damnedest to try and get me to shove it to her. Real horny bitch
you've got here.'
'Every slave is different, Hank,' my trainer remarked, 'some adjust quickly to
captivity, others take a lot longer. My job is helping them make that adjustment
as quickly as they can. Slave Holly seems to a fast learner. I have to admit I'm
impressed.'
I blushed at the compliment. I felt inordinately pleased by my trainer's
evaluation of my progress. I kept my pussy resolutely pushed out as the rapist
reamed me, longing to feel my juices start flowing as they had flowed earlier in
response to the slavegirl's exquisitely skillful handling. I remembered
wistfully how copiously I had creamed when Brenda had masturbated me, how
wonderfully and surprisingly my secretions had streamed out of my cunt. I had
felt humiliated by it at the time. Now I longed for it. But it failed to occur.
I stayed dry. It was more than mildly disappointing. It was mortifying. My only
lubrication was the thin layer of ejaculate my trainer had left in the lining of
my pussy. I still looked forward to being reimpaled but prayed that it wouldn't
be too painful. 'How is she lubricating?' my trainer asked.
'Not much to write home about, Jim,' the slaver mused, 'bitch is pretty fucking
dry down there. Funny when you think how wet she got before. Spraying like a cat
in heat, wasn't that what you said?'
'I could get Slave Brenda to masturbate her for you. Would you like that?'
'Nah, I'll fuck her dry, Jim. I kinda like it when it hurts 'em.'
'Be my guest,' my trainer said, 'but please make sure she's left undamaged.
She's a potentially valuable piece of merchandise. Her vaginal training's
important to me.'
'No problem, Jim,' Hank grunted, 'I'll treat the bitch with kid gloves.'
I stiffened as the slaver drove in his shaft and lodged it inside me. It felt
uncomfortable, unpleasant even. I squirmed in my restraints as I tried to adjust
to the impalement. The shaft was massive. It rubbed harshly against my lining.
'How's that feel, cunt?' the slaver growled as he held me motionlessly impaled
on his thick hard rod like a fish skewered on a spear, 'enjoying it? Like having
my cock rammed up your fuckhole? Lemme hear you grunt sweetly through that gag
the way you did for Jim here. Come on cunt, lemme hear you grunt.'
My choke cord tugged at my neck as I shook my head weakly. I wasn't enjoying it.
I didn't like it at all. It was painful. His cock was too long and too thick and
my snatch was too dry. I writhed helplessly in my bonds.
'You don't like it, cunt?' my assailant muttered, 'you don't wanna grunt for me?
Well now ain't that too fucking bad. Maybe you'll like it better when I ram my
cock up your ass once it's open for business. How about that, cunt? Think you'd
like that?'
Again I shook my head. He was being ghastly. Tears came to my eyes. I could feel
my girlish enthusiasm about my training starting to dissipate. Why was he
treating me this way, I wondered bitterly. Surely he knew how badly I'd wanted
to be fucked, how invitingly I had pushed out my pussy to receive him. Couldn't
he see how helplessly and humiliatingly I'd been bound and gagged, how sternly
and uncomfortably I'd been impaled on his shaft? The man was awful. My tears
streamed down my face as I wept bitterly into my gagging cloths. I felt utterly
deflated.
'Nope?' the rapist growled, 'well shit, there don't seem all that much you do
like, honey. Tell you what. While you're waiting to get fucked up your ass,
lemme give that cute little fuckhole of yours a good hard workout to get you
started.'
I gasped and bit down on my gag as the slaver tore into my bound and helpless
body with sadistic abandon. He pummeled my pussy, slapped his testicles against
my crotch. His shaft scraped the poorly lubricated lining of my snatch, his
glans battered at my womb. The slaver raped my bound and helpless body as though
he were pounding a punching bag. It was painful and degrading. Once again I felt
the awful sting of captivity on my skin, the humiliation of bondage, the pain
and degradation of rape, everything I had experienced when I'd been ravished in
my home so many long hours ago, everything I had forgotten in my momentary
flight of fancy about my adjustment to captivity, about my new life in slavery.
The fleeting euphoria engendered by my orgasm was gone, its place taken by
shame, pain and frustration. I had longed to be taken, had girlishly thought it
romantic to be captured, bound and gagged, raped and enslaved. Now I squirmed in
shame at my silliness. Bent over my raping table with my thighs spread wide and
my ankles confined in cuffs, my wrists bound behind me and a choke cord at my
neck, I could only wriggle helplessly as I tried to dislodge the massive shaft
driven mercilessly and painfully into my flesh. I couldn't budge it. The
impaling member must have been at least ten inches long and two inches thick.
Inescapably tied down and impaled, I sobbed bitterly into my gag and squirmed in
my restraints as I was brutally and painfully raped.
'Keep your ass still while I'm fucking you, cunt,' the slaver grunted, 'keep
jerking around and I'll whip your ass so bad it'll turn black and blue. Got
that?'
'What's the problem, Hank?' I heard the slave trainer ask politely. .
'Fucking bitch keeps wriggling around trying to shake me loose,' the rapist
muttered as he pounded me, 'and to top it off her fuckhole's got no fucking grip
to it. It's too damn loose. It sags.'
'Yes, I noticed that, Hank, but you have to make allowances when you're training
an older capture. And one who's had kids. Did you know we've captured her
daughter as well? Check her out. She's over the tables by the wall, first one on
the right.'
The relentless battering paused for a moment or two as the rapist peered at
Beth. She stood bent over her raping table against the wall, her gagged face
firmly held down on the tabletop by the neck ropes that bound her to her fellow
victims, her legs shackled and spread to open her crotch. A slaver crouched
behind her back, his hands thrust beneath her breasts, his shaft driven deep
into her snatch. She was fighting her bonds, twisting her wrists, trying
desperately to free them from the ropes that imprisoned them behind her back.
Her calves strained futilely at the cuffs that held her ankles. I could hear
them rattling against the table legs. Tears of humiliation streamed
heartbreakingly down her cheeks while blood trickled gruesomely down her thighs
from the tear in her anus. My choke cord dug painfully into my neck as I turned
my face away and wept bitterly for my ravaged daughter.
'You're shitting me, Jim,' the rapist muttered as he resumed his brutally
painful assault on my sore and aching pussy, 'you're telling me that's her
daughter? Can you believe I just got through fucking her a few minutes ago?'
'Really? Interesting coincidence,' my trainer remarked noncommittally.
'Yup. Sure is. And it looks like mom's little girl just got her cute little
asshole ripped open. She was OK when I was fucking her though, you can take my
word on that.' A noticeable stiffening of the shaft inside my vagina clued me
that the sight of my daughter's torn and bleeding anus had further aroused the
rapist's sadistic lust. I tried to twist around and catch a glimpse of him
through my tears but I was too securely and expertly bound. My restraints
allowed no play, no freedom of movement whatsoever. I thought back, trying to
remember whom I had seen raping my daughter but I couldn't remember. In any case
the slavers had all looked pretty much the same to me from the rear. Was it the
man with the ponytail? It couldn't have been. He'd been raping Beth while Hank
was standing behind me waiting to take me.
'Whaddya want for her, Jim? The girl, I mean,' my rapist asked as he plowed my
pussy relentlessly.
'I've been planning on keeping her for a while, Hank, and the mother as well,'
the slave trainer replied. 'I'd like to see them put through our training
program here. But I might consider selling the two of them together as a pair if
the price is right. Do you want them both? If you do we can probably negotiate a
mutually satisfactory price.'
'Nope, just the girl. Her mom's no fucking good to me. Too old to bear children.
I'm looking for breeding stock for our church community up in Montana. We're
busy building a survival haven out there for when Armageddon comes.'
'Armageddon?' The slave trainer was politely inquisitive.
'You bet. It's coming, believe you me. It's right around the corner, just a
matter of time. You oughta sit up and take notice, Jim. Events are shaping up
real fast.'
Armageddon. He wasn't just a slaver and a sadist. He was a survivalist fanatic
as well. I sobbed as I felt his shaft stiffen and throb inside me, ready to
ejaculate. An instant later I felt his orgasm, sickeningly strong and hard, a
massive discharge sprayed forcefully against my cervix. Endless spurts of hot
semen bathed my womb and backwashed through my vagina. It was a flood. As the
rapist withdrew his shaft I could feel the thick slimy liquid oozing out
humiliatingly through my pussy lips and running down the insides of my thighs. I
felt horribly abused and degraded, utterly defiled.
'Enjoy that, my pet?' the rapist asked sarcastically as he patted my sopping wet
pussy possessively, rammed in his fingers and massaged his ejaculate into my
lining. I squirmed with humiliation.
'Well?' my trainer asked, 'how did she do?'
'Good piece of fuckmeat, Jim,' the rapist commented with his hand at my snatch,
'I kinda like her even if her fuckhole's too loose. And, man, does she look
good, all tied up and gagged with her hole nicely fucked and dripping with cum.
Fucking shame she's old to breed. Anyway, lemme ask you again. How much do you
want for the girl?'
