Donna Allen - Trained to be chained

She did it. She gave him what he wanted. As much as she hated the idea of sucking his cock, or any man's cock, she was no stranger to the act. She had seen women do it in films. She had read about it in books. If he wanted the knob of his prick in her throat, she would let him have it there. Let him buy me, she thought. She opened her throat and Bronson sighed as his cock had slipped inside.

"That's good," he said. "Hold it there a moment. Yes, like that."

He made a sound in his chest. He pulled back and suddenly she could breathe again. He pulled his cock all the way back until only his cock-tip was in her mouth. Then he held her head with his hands and pushed forward again.

"Now just hold still," he said. "Keep your mouth open and hold still."

He started fucking her face. She had never had anyone do it to her. It was like her mouth had suddenly become a cunt, a wide-open hole receptive to a sliding cock. His thick cock moved in and out as he pumped his hips.

"Tighten your lips," he said. And the next moment he started coming. The jism boiled out of his cock, spurted out of his piss-hole on her tongue and against the back of her throat. She had to swallow to avoid choking. There was so much, of it. She had thought there wouldn't be that much because of his age. Instead, she had to take a full load of hot spunk. His gluey jism slid down her throat.

Bronson took Zelda away with him. She had no idea what the arrangements were, how much he paid or how he paid it. She was allowed to wear her own clothes. She came out of the front of the house and there she saw an enormous Mercedes with a uniformed chauffeur behind the wheel. She climbed into the back, and then Bronson followed her and sat down beside her. In a moment the chauffeur started the motor and the limo eased away from the house.

"The doors are locked electrically," Bronson said. "Please don't attempt anything foolish."

Then he drew the window curtains and covered all of the chauffeur screen. She was as good as blindfolded. He had her locked inside the car and there was no way she could see where they were going.

"I think you're as bad as the others," she said.

Bronson chuckled and patted her thigh. His fingers pulled the hem of her dress back and he lay his palm over the soft flesh above her stocking.

"No, I don't think so. What did they use on you?"

"They have an electric rod of some kind." He nodded. "I have one too, but mine is probably smaller. I had it specially made. It's small, but quite effective." He pulled something out of his jacket pocket and showed it to her. A small box the size of a cigarette package, with two short prongs coming out of one end. "It's portable," he said. "It's called a stun-gun. The police have a larger version but this actually has more power. PU show you if you like."

"Please, no…"

"Then I assume you'll behave yourself."

"Yes."

He put the stun-gun away. "You cost me a great deal of money," he said. "I expect you to demonstrate that you're worth it." He unzipped his fly and brought his cock out.

Zelda looked down at his lap. Hit cock was soft, his cock-knob hidden by his foreskin. "Do you want me to suck you?"

"Do you like doing that?"

"I hate it."

"Yes, I thought so. It makes it more pleasant to force you. No, I don't want that now." They were on a highway somewhere. Zelda could tell that by the smooth road and the steady speed of the limo. Bronson's hand moved back and forth along the inside of her thigh. "You have lovely skin."

"Thank you," Zelda said.

"The woman was worse than the man, wasn't she?"

"Did she pee on you?"

Zelda shuddered. She could feel the flush in her cheeks. "Yes."

"In your mouth?"

She quivered again. "No, not that."

"Has anyone ever done that to you?"

"Thank God, no."

"Not a lover?"

"Not anyone."

He chuckled. "Then it'll be something different for you, won't it? I want that now. It's too much bother to have Baldwin stop the car and I'm afraid I have to go. Keep just the tip in your mouth, otherwise you'll have trouble and spill it. We don't want that, do we? I don't like it when there's a mess."

She was horrified. He was ordering her to take his prick between her lips while he pissed in her mouth. He was so calm about it. As though it were the most ordinary thing in the world. She suspected he was used to it. Other women had done it for him. He was a rich man and he could have anything he wanted. At the moment what he wanted was to piss in her mouth.

"Do it," he said.

"I can't."

"Yes, you can. It's either that or the stun-gun. I promise you in the end you'll do as I say."

Yes, he was right. He would hurt her and then she would do it anyway. A quiver of loathing ran through her as she lowered her head to his lap. He pushed at her shoulders. He wanted her on the floor between his legs.

"It's better that way," he said. "I'll stop a few times to give you a chance to swallow."

So there she was, kneeling on the floor between his legs with his cock in her mouth. Only this time she was not to suck him off. His knob lay on her tongue, a soft spongy mass still covered by his foreskin. She closed her eyes and prayed something would happen to make him change his mind. Her prayers were useless. In a moment he started gushing. The hot piss came out of his piss-hole like a stream of water out of a garden hose.

In the beginning she almost choked. She remembered his warning about not spilling it.

She kept her lips tight around the knob of his prick. Then she realized she had to swallow. Her mouth would soon be filled. Bronson suddenly stopped pissing.

"Go on," he said, "swallow it before you spill it."

She swallowed. The salty liquid burned as it went down. He started pissing again, and then after a while he stopped and she swallowed once more. Soon she had the hang of it. He emptied his bladder in her mouth and she swallowed it all without spilling a drop on his pants. He complimented her skill as he put his cock away and zipped his fly.

"That was very well done," he said.

As crazy as it seemed to her, she felt a twinge of pride. Dear God, she thought.

They finally arrived somewhere. The limo stopped moving. When the curtains were pulled back, she saw the limo was inside a garage. She had no idea what direction they had traveled. They could be anywhere now. First a blindfolded trip to Josie and Malcolm's place and now this. The chauffeur opened the limo door. He was a man about Bronson's age with sleepy eyes. If he had any idea what had happened in the back of the limo, he showed no sign of it. Bronson climbed out and then she followed him.

Bronson took her hand and led her to a side door in the garage and in a moment they were inside a house.

It was more like a mansion than a house. The place had the feel of a mansion. Deep carpets on the floor and expensive old paintings on the walls. It wet certainly different than the place they had come from. Maybe it won't be so bad, she thought. Then she told herself she was being stupid. Br onion had brought her here to be a slave. He was very polite, but he certainly had no qualms about pissing in her mouth. She knew there would be other horrible things she would have to do. She could sense it. He hadn't paid a great deal of money for her to give her an easy time.

He took her to an elegantly furnished leisure room. The drapes were drawn. A few small lamps were lit. A thick Chinese rug covered much of the floor. On one side of the rug, near one of the sofas, was a red velvet footstool. Bronson told her to kneel on the rug near the footstool and bend over it.

She did it. She knew it was useless to resist. There was no harm in kneeling like that. Not after what she had already done. She knelt on the rug and leaned forward to rest her elbows on the footstool.