Jon Reskind - The abducted bride

"Ooohh, fuck, shit, cunt," the words spat from her mouth without hesitation, there was no thought of resistance left, only the revulsion of this horrible beast struggling to devour her unprotected breasts.

"Say it again," he smirked, loosening the cord another hair.

"Ooohh! Fuck! Ooohh! Shit! No-Nooo, aaaahhhhggg! Cunt!" she shrieked, feeling the wet sniffling nose touching farther up the underside of her quivering breast, the sharp tiny nails straining against the flaccid skin of her ribs.

Shalla held the string tight, keeping the squeaking black rat less than an inch from the throbbing nipple for what seemed an eternity, and then, pulled him slowly from the churning girls body.

Jean was next to unconscious when she felt the vile hairy animal withdrawn from her flesh and the liquid wiped from her breasts. His hand dwelling longer at the task than necessary. Her body shuddered. She knew she was at his mercy. She could fight against pain or even humiliation – but not this – not this horror – it was asking too much. Only death would be better and she would gladly have killed herself this very minute to escape the degradations she knew were to be heaped upon her helpless body now, but there was no way. There was only hopeless submission or the rat and she knew her body would betray her again if she were subjected to those horribly cruel teeth straining to tear viciously at her flesh.

There was something else, something else that would help her through the grotesque ordeal coming, it had helped before – it was the only hope of coming through it sane.

"Shalla," she said lifelessly, her voice steeped in resignation. "Give me some strong tea."

"Madame is learning well, I see," he answered. "I will get some."

He had wanted her to have nothing, as seeing her conscious humiliation and submission meant almost as much to him as the money he would make but it was getting late. The first customers may be coming through the door downstairs even at this moment. He would leave out the sleeping potion when he mixed it and add some extra aphrodisiac. This would be almost as good, at least she would be fully conscious. Her drugged enjoyment of it might even be as good a show as her being forced to subject herself to it out of fear. It would certainly please the clients better. Perhaps he should have done this from the beginning and saved himself all this trouble.

He added the extra pinch of the lust producing powder, whistling softly to himself. It was a bit much but he hoped for many customers today and she must please them all. After all, what man wanted a limp piece of meat under him, especially when he had paid good money for it. This would put some fire into that proud little white ass. It would shake as it never had before or probably ever would again.

He returned to the room and presented the glass to the naked girl, loosening one arm so that she might drink.

"We shall leave 'Chiga' here just to make certain Madame. I want him close by in case we need him hurriedly. He is very hungry. I have not fed him in three days," he chuckled.

Jean shuddered again, looking at the horrible creature with unabashed loathing and took a deep swallow of the dark mint tea. Its warm refreshing flavor coursed through her emotion scarred body, a welcome sedative to the pain and soul searing torture her mind and flesh had been subjected to. It was almost a relief this feeling of surrender. She had done all that was humanly possible to avert the inevitable and now the burden of responsibility was lifted from her. She had no other choice and when one has no other choice their responsibility does not exist. Unless, of course, one is made of the stuff that martyrs are and there aren't many of those left in the world.

"Cover him please, Shalla," she said simply, taking another long swallow from the glass. "I'll remember he's there."

Shalla covered the cage with a towel from the rack in the bathroom. He could already detect a note of fatalistic acceptance in the girl's voice. The tea and the presence of the rat were working better than he had expected. He had anticipated some further form of resistance but it hadn't materialized. Now it was too late. With the amount of aphrodisiac he had put in the drink, she would be a churning mass of raw lust in a mater of a few minutes. He wanted to see that. He would like to stand at the foot of the bed and watch her go into heat. He had seen it before with others and it was an inciting thing to see an unwilling woman turned into a raging sex-crazed mass of flesh in a matter of minutes. He would, besides profiting well, also enjoy the day ahead.

Jean drained the glass and lay back against the mattress waiting for the conscious-killing sleep that she remembered from before. It did not come. She waited expectantly, praying the dream producing drug would begin its work before Shalla's cousin returned. She couldn't bear to be conscious and face the man who was to possess her body for money.

The Arab hovered over her suddenly.

"We have a long day, Madame, and Shalla does not want his investment ruined. We must make certain you do not tire." He took her free wrist that she had been drinking with and retied it to the top of the bed and then pulled a small jar from his robe pocket, holding it above her face. She recognized it as a Vaseline type substance. He removed the cap and took a swab on his middle finger. Jean automatically clamped her thighs tightly together as he looked down between her legs.

"Open them," he commanded.

Jean lay still, the fear rising again.

"Would Madame prefer 'Chiga'!" he nodded impatiently toward the covered cage.

Her eyes widened at the mention of the loathsome name and she drew her legs quickly apart, closing her eyes tightly to hide the shame of her exposure. She jerked abruptly as his hands came in electrifying contact with the fleshy lips of her vagina. He pulled them gently apart, until the hair-lined slit was wide-open, exposing the tightly clasped entrance to her cunt. He inserted his finger, massaging the lubricating salve all around inside the walls and opening. Jean's shame knew no bounds as his finger circled around inside her, unhindered by any resistance on her part.

"Oh God, if I could only fight," she groaned incoherently to herself. "If I only had the courage."

Shalla's humiliating rummaging between her legs was suddenly interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Mufta is here," he said, excitedly, looking down at the stricken Jean as though she should share in his joy. "He has our first client."

Shalla's face sobered for a moment and he placed his hand on top of the covered cage, casting a menacing glance at the prostrate girl.

"Remember, if there is one complaint from a customer, then I shall give 'Chiga' your left breast. You have my word by Allah."

There was absolutely no doubt in the cringing girl's mind that he would do it. There was no such thing as mercy in his animalistic world, and she was fully aware that her survival as a whole human being depended on how well she accepted the hopelessness of her situation. Kevin had deserted her, and now Monique, she was alone and defenseless.

Jean cowered in the center of the bed, her arms still bound tightly above her head. She felt her nakedness as a great shame covering her like an evil blanket. One that couldn't be dislodged no matter how hard one struck out against it. And now, that blanket was going to be replaced by something even more evil, the bodies of strange obscene men. Men, who would not even know her name or that she would not know, except as great shafts of indecent flesh drubbing into her helpless body. She would be the receptacle into which they would spew their lewd sperm as they had into thousands of other whores in other places at other times.