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I wake up in Neena’s bed. I am still boiling. I had no relief last evening. Quite the reverse. Neena used me and used me and then used me again.
I licked and sucked her. Feet.Toes. Calves. Knees, Breasts. Nipples. Tongue. Labia. Clit. Finally, after she had come, she made it clear that her anal bud required a long and careful lick. She was absolutely clean, thank goodness but even if she hadn’t been, I know my duty was to obey her.
Then she handcuffed me to a short chain fixed to the side of her bed and fondled my nipples as she drifted into sleep. So here I am. The light of early morning is filling the room. Neena is still spooned into me and I’m bursting to pee. She stirs and turns over. Turns again and opens her eyes.
“Rapina! You were good last night. Too good for straight little girl - I didn’t know you were so completely bi - or perhaps you have always been completely lesbian but never had the opportunity to know yourself properly?”
“Spaseeba, Gaspazha but I don’t think I really am. I did what you wanted of me…..”
“Yes you did, didn’t you? And that was all it was, was it?” She looks at me in a way that tells she doesn’t believe it. She doesn’t care though. “Good,” she goes on. “I am pleased with you. It’s time I used you regularly …..” She yawns.
I feel a stab of anticipation. For goodness sake, what has become of me? I am looking forward to being the sexual plaything of this girl. Yet what choice do I have? In every practical respect, I am merely a chattel, to be exploited and used.
“Gaspazha?”
“Rapina?”
“May I go to the toilet?”
“My toilet?”
“Any toilet. Please.”
“Why?”
“I need to pee.”
“Do you? Well, so do I. Come here.” She reaches over me, unfastens the chain from my cuffs and leads me into the bathroom. She has a large walk in shower – a “wet room” in fact. “On your knees,” she says to me. “Over the drain.”
I crouch over the drain, legs apart. I wait. I know that she won’t be pleased if I just do as I need without her permission. She keeps me hanging on for what seems like an age.
“Now pee!”
I still dislike being watched but by this time I am desperate. There is no reluctance on my part. I let go and my urine flows out through the drain holes of my chastity belt. As my pee flows it reminds me that throughout all the sexual congress of last evening, it was Neena who reached climax. It was Neena who enjoyed sexual fulfilment whilst I could only enjoy her pleasure as I remained frustrated and burning with desire. The desire which drove me to do anything and everything Neena asked me to do. The sensation of urine flowing from me, the feeling of my bladder emptying is almost sexual. It must show in my face. When I open my eyes Neena is gazing at me, smiling.
“Enjoy yourself?”
It seems an almost obscene question, but of course Neena knows the answer in any case. “Da Gaspazha! Spaseeba!”
“Good.” Neena smiles with a sympathetic air. “What is the main task of Rapina?”
I have been well drilled in what I am expected to say by now. “To serve others Gaspazha.”
“Over here!” She points to the floor over the drain. “On your back!” I turn and lay on the floor, facing up. She squats over me. “You know what is coming now, Rapina?” I give a whimper. I know what she intends. But if I am to serve, I have to do as she says. “Now it is time for Rapina to have a nice warm drink. She will swallow everything. She will do her best not to spill even one drop!”
Neena stops, evidently wanting some acknowledgement from me. “Da Gaspazha …..” She hears me agree; she can tell I acquiesce. She knows I will do it. She seems even more certain of my obedience than I do. My reverie of a few short moments ago has gone. Do I have to do even this?
I have to because Neena is now kneeling right above me. My head is between her knees.
“Rapina?”
“Da?”
“Where is your mouth?” She frames it as a question but I know it is an instruction. Carefully I place my mouth around her labia. I feel her relax. First there is a short spurt of warm fluid. It stops momentarily, then restarts more confidently as it were, then establishes itself as a rushing stream. I swallow and swallow. It seems to never stop. I do all I can to make sure none of her urine escapes my lips and overflows onto her thighs. Eventually the flow subsides. Eventually I can stop drinking, but my mouth is full of the musty, yeasty taste of her.
“Did you enjoy me, rapina?”
“I have never done that Gaspazha …..”
“That is not what I asked …..”
“I am sorry Gaspazha, I, er I don’t know ….. Was I satisfactory?”
“Yes, you were satisfactory but being satisfactory is not enough. Did you enjoy me?”
Actually I did enjoy her. I am ashamed to say I did but that seems to be my fate. To serve her yet more intimately.
“Well, rapina? I will ask you once more and then I will cane the answer from you …”
“Da, Gaspazha,” I confess. “I enjoyed you.” I can’t look into her eyes, as I admit it.
She realises that I am speaking the truth and taking my chin in her hand pulls my head round until our eyes meet. Her’s, hungry; mine, tearful and defeated. I have to admit that another defence has been breached, another fortification has been over-run.
She smiles. She knows that, once more, victory is hers.
She dictates her terms. “I am pleased to hear it. Do you know? You would not enjoy it half so much if our body had not been carefully protected from unauthorised stimulation! See what care we take of our property, rapina, so it performs just the way we want it at just the time we want it.” (during this little speech, Neena has been gently tapping my chastity belt, to make quite sure I am understand her completely). She continues: “You will soon accept sexual service as a normal part of your service. Regular. Frequent. Something you will look forward to. Something you will enjoy!”
Will I? Will I really? Jennifer Karin McEwan, BSc (Honours) University of Cambridge, PhD student. Wife of Joseph McEwan, civil engineer. Daughter of Colonel Andrew Palmer, Royal Artillery. Looking forward to drinking the urine of her captor. Her torturer. Looking forward to being a sexual plaything of anyone she is given to.
“Kneel and wait!” I kneel on the floor of the shower area whilst Gaspazah gets washed. She goes to find a towel. Presently, she is back. “Go back to your cell and drink some water, then clean your teeth, then go to the back door. I will meet you and Andrei. House Security will permit you these movements on your own – but nowhere else.”
She winks. I get the message. She unfastens my wrists and I go on my way. Just before I leave her suite I notice a curious picture on the wall. It’s a print of an illuminated X-ray. The bones of a lumbar spine are supported by a scaffolding of metal. Is that Neena’s spine on the radiograph? Her souvenir of some horrific accident she has had?
Presently, I am in the basement corridor at the door through which I walked, out into the garden, out into the winter snow. How I remember that day. The day when I first knew that I now lived in a different world. Andrei arrives. He is dressed for a run and carries a pair of running shoes and socks.
“Here, rapina. Yours! Please to get dressed.”
Mine? But slaves do not own anything of their own? I do not put this into words but merely do as I am told. It’s creepy. These are precisely the same make and size of running shoes I wear at home. Even the socks are the same. As if they know every detail about me. As if I am completely transparent to them. My history. My hopes. My fears. My likes. My dislikes. All open for inspection. All laid bare to their gaze. Or perhaps it’s my other life which was merely a dream and – really – I have always been rapina Vyerka?
Neena arrives also dressed for running. She is so beautiful. She is wearing blue lycra capri shorts and a white sports bra. In between her skin is bare, showing her tight toned body. Her hair is combed straight and tied back into a pony tail. Oh, to be able to tie my hair back! To feel it pulling on my scalp again! And above her spine is a fine surgical scar …
“Rapina! Here!”
I go to her. She takes a key and unlocks my chastity belt and smirks!
“A welcome change? Well you deserve a treat after your work last night, but no time for enjoyment just yet – I mean that sort of enjoyment!”
She smiles and wrinkles her nose. They never lose the opportunity to underline how they can control even my most basic desires. Give. Take. Give back. Take away. According to their desires. Always theirs. Never mine. No more personal autonomy, even over my own body.
“Rapina, before we go: I have my phone here. It will keep in touch with your collar. If you fall too far behind, your collar will start to hurt. If you are foolish and try to escape ……….”
“I understand, Gaspazaha!”
She smiles and patronisingly pats me on the butt. Inside I am angry. That nonsense was uncalled for. I’m not a complete idiot. Where on earth could I run to, anyway? But I suppose that’s not the point. She is making sure I never forget how I must live now. Making sure it’s always in front of me. Rubbing my nose in my slavery.
There’s a final humiliation. I catch Andrei admiring the bruises Neena has given me last night, to add to the cane marks which still linger ……
The summer has come and the day will be very warm. You can tell from the smell of the earth. Beneath the trees there are carpets of flowers, blue and white. Soon I am sweating freely but at least I am naked and the air on my bare skin is wonderful. How could I ever have done this in my other life? Neena sets a gentle pace at first and then gradually increases, then slows, then speeds up again, in intervals of I suppose two or three minutes. My gym time has always included work on the treadmill or the cross-trainer but, oh, to run properly again! Do I care if we see anyone? No! I feel free for once and completely brazen about my nakedness.
In front of me, Neena’s blond hair, combed back into a pony tail bobs and shakes, bounces, whips and rolls as she runs and once again, I feel the stab of regret that I will always be bald. I steal a glance at her breasts inside her bra. I had breasts once. Never large, but breasts all the same. Now the effects of all the weight training I have done and the drugs they have given me have left me looking more like a man with large nipples. As if to mock me, both nipples are proudly erect and the rings which decorate them bounce and tap my areola as I run. And my colour. I look with envy at Neena’s creamy pale skin and glance at my own deep brown skin. How fortunate she is not to be a slave like me!
How has it come to this? I worked hard at school and university. I was not promiscuous. I loved and respected my parents. I married …. Yes, I was married. I was a research student working with a world expert and all these things have led me to abject slavery whilst Neena, a girl my own age gets to use me in any way she chooses. She is free. I will always be a slave.
The paths lead us around the garden closest to the house, which peeps through the trees as we run. It’s been built on a slope with the basement corridor (where I live) opening to the outside at the rear of the house and the main entrance (on the first floor from my point of view) opening to the outside at the front. It’s a very imposing building. In the middle, a gracious dome crowns the centre and two wings spring from either side. A collection of “utility” buildings lies to one side, built against a walled garden which must have provided the kitchen produce in days gone by – and perhaps now it does again. The house commands a view of the surrounding country-side which ripples and rolls away into the distance: woods, fields and more woods. The whole place has a tranquil, peaceful air. The path has taken us down to a river which flows slowly by. It is crossed by a small suspension bridge, spanning the dark smooth waters.
We pause on the bridge. “Vyerocka?”
“Da, Gaspazha?” So, after my work yesterday and last night I am now Verochka once more. I feel an absurd stab of pleasure and gratitude.
“The river: we can swim there now it is the summer. Not as warm as the pool inside but often more fun! Anyway: I will send you presently.”
“Spasseba, Gaspazha …..”
Finally, we return to the House. We three spend a few moments catching our breath and stretching – but I feel fantastic! It’s been like a taste of freedom.
“Enjoy?”
“Da Gaspazha! Spaseeba!”
“You are welcome, rapina. Now summer is here, we will do this frequently. There are enough paths and trails within the Estate to give us anything up to a 25 km run.”
Neena leads the way inside and the door locks shut behind us. In prison once more ……
“Rapina!”
“Da, Gaspazha?”
“Here, Andrei – she’s yours.”
Andrei takes me through into the gym for what I expect to be another weights routine. Instead he takes me into one of the side rooms and motions me to lie down on my back on the massage table. He straps me down: my wrists, my chest, my neck. Then he sets up stirrups at the far end and lifts my legs into them. This is different. I wonder what trial they have in mind for me now? Andrei disappears and Neena comes to my side. She leans close. “Rapina? What are slaves for?”
“To do the work their owners set for them.”
“Good, but there’s more, because what you said, could apply to employees. Slaves are there to be used. We have used your mind. We are strengthening your body for physical use. We have altered your appearance for our pleasure and amusement last night I began to use your sexuality. I used you as a sexual toy. Get used to that. There will be a lot more coming, if you will pardon the pun. Will you come? Not always, but this morning might be different because,” she leans forward and drops her voice, conspiratorially, “Andrei is going to fuck you and you are going to fuck him. In fact you are going to try to give him the best fuck he has ever had and it you don’t, it’s the cane. Understand?”
“Da, Gaspazha.”
“Final thing. He is going to take you bareback. You are going to get his sperm right up into your cervix, I hope. And there is nothing you can do about it. You might even come. Enjoy!”
She is gone. I don’t protest as she leaves, nor yet as Andrei returns. I don’t question his right to do this. He is naked, erect. He kneels between my legs. I feel his tongue on my labia. He is good! The tongue travels carefully, gently up and down, up and down. It swirls across my opening, then across my clit. I start to buck as far as I can on the table. He continues carefully working on my labia. I start to get very wet. It’s not his saliva, it’s me. My vagina starts to drool for him. I wanted to save myself for Joe. This is a rape, and yet, it’s not a rape because I am not being driven, I am running with Andrei! My breathing is deep. I am moving my hips to follow his tongue. He laps the mucous pouring from me, then he stands up. He smiles. I feel the head of his penis begin to poke a little way inside me. I mew in response. He replies by pressing a little further in. I lift my hips to him. He slides deep inside me. Oh, get in Andrei! Get right up in me! Stretch me, blast you! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!
Carefully, gently, teasingly he begins to rock back and forth. I reply with my hips, squeezing him as he moves. He smiles. I smile. He rocks. I buck and squeeze. He loosens the strap over my waist. I respond by lifting my hips even more enthusiastically to him. He leans forward and wraps his arms round me and starts to ride in earnest and, in earnest I respond; the mare to the stallion. Each time he surges forward, I squeeze his prick, forward, squeeze; forward, squeeze; forward, squeeze. The pace quickens, builds, the tension in him ratchets up and them I feel him convulse, and then feel warmth deep within me. He comes and comes and comes. I have been properly fucked! I am a toy, to be taken, fucked, exercised, spanked, fucked again – and the shame of it is, I am loving it. I squeeze and squeeze the very last drops of sperm from him. He is still now and as his tumescence fades he slips from me. I bask in post coital glow – and then feel his tongue at my vagina. He is cleaning me with his mouth! How about that? He has taken me and now he is cleaning me, wonderfully, gently, intimately! Even Joe has never done that for me. Then of course, it’s my turn. He straddles the table. His prick inches from my face. He gets off and unstraps my neck Then he is back. I lift my head and start to suck the mixture of my mucous and his sperm I suck and swallow. He starts to grow again. I carefully clean him with my tongue and get to see him develop another full erection. I smile, then giggle. He slaps my thigh. Oh, wonderful heat. Please use a crop next time? He mounts me again. I welcome him into the depths of my body – and the fucking begins all over again.
Email.
From: Neena Alexandrovna
To: Svetlana Nikitechna.
Subject: Rabinya Vyera.
I have now begun to work with Vyera’s sexuality, habituating her to the idea that even in this ‘intimate’ and personal’ areas, her task is merely to use her body to pleasure others with no reference to her own wishes, wishes in either what she is told to do or with whom she is asked to do it.
I had her in my own bed last evening and gave her to Andrei this morning after her training run. She was not (from her perspective) protected by any contraceptive precautions although recently she has received another injection of intra-muscular depo-provera for contraception.
I am pleased to tell you that Vyera has enjoyed – actually very much enjoyed – this new development in her training!
Neena’s email appeared on Sveta’s cell i-phone just before she was due on air and, as almost any news of Vyera can bring on unpredictable emotional responses, Sveta has elected not to open the mail until after her broadcast.
It’s half past ten. The closing credits of “The Next Move” have rolled across the screen. The animated graphic of chess pieces sliding across a map of the Russian Federation has reinforced the message that carefully thought out change is key to the development of the Russian economy and state. “Researched, Written and Presented by Svetlana Kustenskaya,” say the credits. Sveta is proud of that, the sense of something that is her own, entirely her own. It had been a difficult edition, too. Even with Sveta’s experience it had been no easy matter to tread the fine line between the needs of a modern economy and those of what is still, at its heart, a state that prefers not to loosen its grip. She is now alone in her office at the media centre. She takes a deep breath and reads Neena’s message.
Part of Sveta is glad that Vyera has at least found some aspect of her training which she can thoroughly enjoy – at least if Neena’s summary of events is to be trusted – and then it occurs to Sveta that however careful the precautions, girls who get fucked can also get pregnant. Sveta starts to perspire. What would they do if Vyera got pregnant? Instantly, she is back in 1980, leaving her office full of joy at carrying Anatoly’s child, carrying the child into the arms of those who, hours later callously destroyed it. She couldn’t have Vyera go through that same experience. Not for her sake, not for Sveta’s own sake.
Sveta’s heart is racing: she must speak with Neena. The girl must be used in such a way as to reduce the risk of pregnancy to an absolute minimum …
© Phil Lane & Freddie Clegg 2011
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