Sacrifices
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Sexual Sacrifices
By Bbonz1
NOTE: The stories contained on this blog and other places represent experiments in writing. Some succeed. Some fail. But hopefully each is enjoyable to read and even in failure they provoke a stimulating reaction.
The following is an experiment in short cuts for short stories. It is a work of fiction. Do not try this at home.
Narrative:
War has split the planet, conflict shattering the peaceful borders into millions of shards. Warlords rule most landmasses, their empires often no more than a few blocks square, wracked by an ever-shifting combination of alliances and allegiances. In this mass of chaos, food production for export has effectively ceased. If you don’t grow it at home, you don’t eat.
The major war lasted less than 12 months. The powers-that-be ended it quickly with strategically-placed nuclear strikes when it became clear that the ruling class might have to sacrifice some of their sons and daughters to defending their home countries. It was much more expedient to annihilate millions of poor people.
The resulting mushroom clouds swept billions of tons of dust and human ash into the skies, blocking the sunlight and sparking a new form of nuclear winter. The earth is resilient and began to heal itself almost immediately. But there’s not a person on the planet that hasn’t been harmed.
The United States is no longer united. States are no longer states. The federal government consists only of the armed forces and the Farm Bureau. Food is far more valuable than gold. In fact, food has replaced money as money. Libertarians and survivalists were right to stockpile food. But wrong to keep it to themselves. Most are dead because starving people have nothing to lose and will hazard a machine gun in order to get something to eat.
The armed forces have begun to provide a modicum of security within what used to be the states. Captain Mark McDaniels heads a contingent of about 200 soldiers responsible for keeping the peace in a 20 square mile section outside a major metropolitan area. His primary mission is to control the banditry that has overrun this part of the country. His secondary – but no less important – mission is to ensure the fair and equitable distribution of federal food. Captain McDaniels is noted for his resistance to bribery… in most cases.
* * * * * * *
Him:
I make sure that Captain McDaniels is comfortable in our best armchair and make sure his aide is well accommodated as well. It’s taken me a full month to set up this meeting. The Captain is a busy man, especially since the common occupation of most of this population is perpetrating banditry or being the victim of banditry. Distributing food takes up most of the rest of his time. What little is left is spent wiping off the attempts of regular citizens to get more food, whether by bribery or by force. The only reason the Captain is here is because I know something of the particular predilections that he and much of his leadership share. The information that I’m working from is innocuous at best. It could very well be wrong. If it is, we’ll continue starving. If it’s not, my wife and I might soon be well-fed, though one of us will be working hard for the privilege.
“Sir,” I say, “let’s get right down to it. Both of us are hungry. I’m hungry for something with some protein in it. And you’re hungry for something that you could take, but for your honor. Something I know you want, but your oath forbids it. But if it’s freely given to you, something you can enjoy as long as it pleases you.” The Captain is no fool. He knows what I’m talking about. As long as I stay carefully away from any implication of a deal or exchange or bribe, we can make this happen. I hope that I know what he wants to see next. His poker face is on. I’m acting in the dark here. I’m hoping my presentation doesn’t sound too rehearsed.
“Captain, if you’ll indulge me for a moment, I’d like to introduce you to my wife Karen. You may not know this, but she has a number of talents that might assist you in handling your arduous duties. I can’t imagine the stress you’re under while trying to protect this area. Leadership alone is a difficult task, which you – and your aide – have to deal with every day.” It’s his aide who confirmed my suspicions, in a way. His face remains as blank as his superior’s.
My wife enters on cue. She’s trained for this moment for almost six months, appearing before a number of audiences. None are as important as this one. I admire her poise and her appearance. She has selected a diaphanous white blouse and a playful dark skirt to wear. Nylons and black heels complete her simple but sexy ensemble. She’s still fairly plump despite our restricted rations, which goes well with the mass of curly hair atop her head. It’s her hair that helps her stand out from the rest of the population which sports straight hair in long, flowing locks.
“I’m thinking, Sir, that you might want to know more about my wife.” With this, I step in closer behind her, close enough that she can feel my erection through the back of her skirt. Even as I feel her slight smile, I reach around to her chest and begin undoing the top button of her blouse. “For instance, you might be interested in knowing that my wife’s breasts are just perfect for sucking.” The second button is undone, revealing quite a bit of her cleavage. She shudders visibly as my hands brush against the fabric encasing her breasts.
“And that her nipples, while normally quite erect, get twice as big when she’s excited.” Buttons three and four are undone, while I casually pull open her blouse so her hardened nipples are fully exposed. The Captain leans forward for a better look. I imagine I can see the beginnings of a tent between his legs. “Karen loves having men suck her nipples, don’t you dear?” Button number 5 is released. I pull the blouse up to get a better grasp of the last button, which pulls the fabric even farther to the side. Her plump C-cup tits, with a tiny bit of sag, stand out proudly, capped by diamond hard nipples that still seem to be growing. An excited intake of breath comes from the aide.
“If I may, Sir, point out a few more things about my wife’s tits? You see, we think that these nips,” and I pull out on each one for emphasis, “are connected by a forked nerve down to her clit. And every time you flick your tongue against one of these,” I pull them out, eliciting a gasp of pain, “it hardens her clit and makes her all the more horny.” With a bump of my hips against her ass, the front of the skirt momentarily clings to the front of her legs, emphasizing the V where her legs meet. Subtle meets graphic.
“Let’s just get rid of this,” I say, pulling her blouse completely off and dropping it to the floor. Still standing behind her, I support each tit with each hand, as if offering it to them. “If you haven’t noticed already, Sir, there’s plenty of flesh here for a good tit fuck, which Karen loves to give out. In fact, she can do it all day, can’t you darling?”
I have them now. No objections. No condemnations. No signs of disgust. Maybe I could stop here. But we’ve rehearsed this so many times, I need to see it play out. Maybe we all do.
“Before you see more of what we have to offer, we should speak of Karen’s oral skills. Stick out your tongue, darling. I’m sure it looks like a normal woman’s tongue. In a normal-sized mouth. Nothing too special. But normal women haven’t spent nearly a year learning every type of sucking skill known in civilization. Normal women can’t empty your balls with just a few licks in just the right places. And normal women don’t adhere to the hands-free rule of cock sucking, where no hands are allowed any time for any reason. Because if you want hands on your cock, you might as well just jack off yourself.”
I continue to massage her breasts, causing her to squirm back up against my erection, and almost causing me to lose track of my presentation. If it’s causing this kind of reaction in me, what’s it doing to these two gentlemen? “Not that Karen really needed all that much training, blowjob-wise. My wife was always particularly well-skilled down there.” A nice reminder of her being my wife and not some bought and paid-for prostitute. Which, I suspect, is what most of the other citizens have been offering this man.
I let my right hand slide down across her stomach and slip inside the waist of her skirt. It was her decision on how much – or how little – to wear for this encounter. So I’ll have to change my pitch to complement her outfit. Yes. As I’d suspected. No panties. For fun, I run my fingers through the fur above her slit. The Captain would know what I was doing. Her pussy patch wasn’t the only thing being manipulated.
As I pull my hand up, I unsnap the catch on her skirt and let it fall to the floor over her voluptuous hips. All is still for a moment as the two men take in the sight of her fuzzy pussy patch framing her long, thick slit. “You’ll notice,” I continue, as if nothing unusual is happening, “that we’ve left her unshaved. You can have it either way, of course. It’s just that some men like to see their jizz glistening in that forest of hair after they’ve cum. This way, there’s no need to wait for that hair to grow back.”
“Like all women, Karen is perpetually horny. Unlike most, she’s willing to do anything to get some cock in her cunt. Literally anything. She’s totally obedient and totally compliant. For instance: Turn around. Kneel down. And show the Captain your beautiful ass.”
I finally step away from her as she complies instantly, positioning herself so the Captain can get a good view of her rump and the heavy pussy lips hanging just below. The aide silently moves near the Captain so he can get a better view.
“Here’s how you’d usually see her, kneeling like a bitch and begging to be fucked. Isn’t that right, dear? Like porn pros, she knows how to keep herself clean, outside and inside. So when you want to fuck her ass, it’s not likely to get messy. While you’re down there, babe, why don’t you take off those stockings and let the gentlemen inspect your legs and feet. If you’re into footjobs, she has the kind of dexterity that makes it all worth the time and effort.
“Now open yourself to these fine gentlemen, won’t you? Notice how quickly she obeys? And how wet her cunt is already? That’s before anyone has even touched her. My wife is a hot slut, Captain Sir. With lots to hold onto when you fuck her. Not like those skinny girls that you see everywhere these days. That’s why I want to give her to you. As a reward for all your faithful service.
“But you don’t need to decide right now. How about a demonstration?”
* * * * * * *
Her:
I know what they’re seeing, these two officers, as they gaze down at me, my ass cheeks pulled wide apart, the many folds of my pussy leading to the entrance of my cunt. My husband and lately Master has filmed it as I prostrate myself before the strangers he hired to train me. Filmed it and made me watch it, so I know what’s driving those men crazy. What they desire. And how I can provide it even more. That’s more than most women or wives, who don’t know what they look like and how they can use it. That’s one of my unique benefits. And what will earn us more food.
So I pull my cheeks even farther apart. Cant my ass upwards. Let them see what they would see if they fuck me. And that’s what I want. So much, I’m ready to beg. All of my Master’s talk about my nipples and tits and clit and tongue. His insinuations that I’m a slut. I wasn’t always. But after weeks and weeks of gangbangs, all I can think about is cock. And cum. And laying helpless beneath a man who is in heat and needs nothing more than release.
“Demonstrate,” I hear in my head, though I can’t be sure who said it because I hear the blood pounding in my veins. It must be my Master, the part of my brain that can think tells me, because that’s the code word he gave me and why would these other men know that word?
I turn on my hands and knees to face the Captain who is sitting alertly on our chair, a tiny smile the only sign of his anticipation. That and the tent between his legs. He can’t hide that from me. Nor the musky scent of his groin producing pheromones, which I’ve learned over the past few months indicate a man intending to snatch all that he desires. My breasts dangle and swing with every crawled step towards him. My face is at his knees, my gaze directed at his crotch and the potent manhood straining to be released. I could pop him out and eat him up right there.
But my Master has wisely directed me to play with the Captain a while. To get him ramped up. To make myself indispensable. Though there’s always the possibility that he will fuck me and leave me. Leave our plan ruined. But I can’t dwell on that. There should only be me and my holes and him and his dick. A wave of unquenchable need sweeps through me. I want him in my mouth and my cunt and my ass simultaneously. I want him to never leave me. To pump gallons of cum into me. To exhaust me and fuck my dying body. I’m in a zone that I rarely entered before I was trained. My inhibitions are gone. All I want is to fuck.
Despite this, I maintain discipline and follow the plan. Crawl up onto the arms of the chair. Kiss the Captain with all the passion threatening to burst out of me. Invade his mouth with my tongue. Press my breasts against his chest. Guide his hand to my parted pussy. He rubs me, finger sliding between the lips, each touch igniting a firestorm that I let myself get swept up in. I crawl up a little farther, dipping my nipples onto his lips, letting him suckle at my breast, swaying from one to the other, his tongue rasping against the raw nerves, my juices flowing down his fingers.
The aide is standing close by, close enough for me to unzip his pants with my free hand. Close enough for me to pull his lovely cock into my mouth. But that would be wrong, my Master had said. You need to do the superior officer first, he warned me. So, perched on the arms of the chair, my dripping cunt just inches from the Captain’s face, I begin undoing his uniform shirt. I pull it apart. I encounter the stupid Army t-shirt. I’m prepared for this. My Master has trained me well. I push the shirt up and reveal his well-muscled, lightly haired chest. I fiddle with his nipples and he finally reacts, moaning and softly growling.
My hand slips down, under his waistband, until I encounter the tip of his cock. I can’t tell how big it is and don’t care. Just as long as it’s hard. Just as long as it ends up inside me. Reaching down, between my own legs, backwards, I undo his belt and manage to unbutton his pants. Then everything is tantalizingly out of reach. It’s almost time. But I must maintain my discipline. So it’s back up to his mouth. Another deep, drawn out, violent kiss. Another chance for him to suckle on my tits. Then I climb down.
Between his legs. He lifts his body so I can pull pants and underwear over his sweet butt and down to his ankles. Stupid army boots. I’ve forgotten about them and now I have to waste time removing them when I could be up in his lap, licking and lapping and sucking his impressive manhood. It takes forever to unknot his boots, an eternity to pull them off and I can’t unroll the socks from his feet fast enough.
“Submit.” My Master’s voice sounds like it’s coming from far away. I know that word. I know what it means. But I have cock on a plate right in front of me. Right. There. What does it mean again? Oh. Yes. I bend before the Captain, on hands and knees, and carefully, reverently, slowly (too slowly!) kiss the top of each foot. I remember that I can only suck him if he allows it. That when I submit, I can only do what I’m told. I lean back, like a puppy dog, and await the word that only he can provide.
But he doesn’t know what to do! I realize that as he stares questioningly at me. Will I be stuck here, inhaling the scent of his manhood, watching it drip pre-cum that should be on my tongue, slowly deflating because I’m not there to water it? “Proceed.” My Master! He knew what was wrong. I can follow his orders. Eagerly I bend forward, purse my lips and place a slow, wet kiss on the Captain’s purple cock head. It quivers below me. I taste salty cum. I smell his musk. I want to worship that hardness. Worship and fertilize it with my spit. So when he uses it on me, it’s harder than it’s ever been before.
Having respectfully demonstrated how much I worship his cock, I can begin cock sucking in earnest. I wrap my lips around his shaft, bobbing my head down until my nose is pressed hard into his pubes. I’ve never been good at estimating length, but I’m glad I can accommodate the Captain’s cock without it traveling down my throat. I can do it. All women should know how. But it’s not optimum.
I keep my hands away from it, though I urgently want to grasp and rub it. Hands-free has been drilled into me by my Master, through many, many painful lessons. Suddenly I remember a session at the glory hole where I mistakenly touched a cock with my hand, erasing credit for the nine previous cocks I’d sucked to completion. He made me start over. And I ended up sucking off twenty cocks that day. My mouth still aches to think of it.
Damn! Focus Karen! Only by focusing your attention can you give a man all the pleasure he deserves. I rub my tongue back and forth across the bottom of his shaft even while bobbing my mouth up and down on it. I’m told the sensation is nearly the same as sharing a DP in a hot and horny woman. I look up to find the Captain stretched out in ecstasy. I need to slow down or he’s going to blow his cum down my throat. It’d be good for him. But I can do better.
It’s time, I think. Or maybe I just can’t wait any longer. Pulling his wet hot cock from my mouth, I’m plain with what I want next: “Fuck me. Any way you want. Just get your big cock inside me.” I say it gaspingly, huskily, desperately. I want it in all those ways. If I don’t feel something filling up one of my holes, I feel like I might just die.
I haven’t even finished turning around to offer my ass to him when I feel the head of his cock sliding across my ass cheek. The head skims across my anus, then begins to probe lower down. He’s going to take my cunt. But suddenly the Captain’s cock is pressing against my anal ring, adamantly, and I tremble with anticipation. Yes! Fuck my ass, I silently pray to him. He’s gentle but insistent, pressing the head in slowly, wiggling it to find the easiest way past the stiffened gates to my tightest hole.
Unless you’ve had a cock shoved into your ass, you won’t understand the strange mix of uncomfortableness and pleasure that sweeps through you once a shaft is deep inside you. During my training, I experienced everything from brutal, no lube penetrations to soft and sensual anal sex. How roughly it goes in matters. After that, it’s all the same.
I try to relax, unclench, welcome him in. Eventually his cock head breaches my anal ring, which is still so tight it must feel exquisitely restricting to him. To me, it feels like I have to poop. My body wants to expel this foreign invader so bad, it automatically clenches up to shoot it out. Which, of course, feels like heaven to him.
Once he’s in, his instinct takes over and he starts pistoning in and out. Sometimes he pulls himself all the way out, just to feel the pleasure of breaching my tight hole again. Eventually, maybe because of the friction and heat, my anus starts to go numb. The discomfort subsides. The urge to poop goes away. And I’m left with the intense pleasure of being filled up in my dirtiest hole, seducing a man in the best way possible.
My moaning has attracted the aide, who stands naked in front of me. At my nod, he kneels before me and I bend to take his fat cock into my mouth. Which changes the angle of his boss’s attack on my ass. Which, from the groan he emits, feels much better to him.
A cock in my ass and a cock in my mouth. And… I feel myself slip into a blissful zone I’ve come to crave so much. Where all I can feel are brief moments and sensations. The aide palming my breast and twisting the nipple. Balls slapping against my ass. My leg cramping as his body weight presses down on my hips. The feel of a velvety cock head against my tongue. Nothing is connected. It’s all flashes and moments. Powerful hips slamming against my butt. A sensation of choking as a thick shaft touches my throat and impedes my breath. Two cocks isn’t enough now. I can take two more. Three more! My pussy feels empty without a cock ravaging its wet walls. I imagine a long line of soldiers, dressed in their uniforms, their hard cocks sticking out of their flies, all waiting to fuck me three at a time. And I can do it, literally living in the moment, while they release themselves on me, inside of me, atop me.
Suddenly the vacancy in my ass isn’t replaced by the Captain’s cock. He’s gone! I snap my head around to find him. Ah. He’s heading up to the front. The aide withdraws, making room for his boss. The Captain’s cock is slick with lube and sweat and whatever liquids cling to it from inside me. I realize he hasn’t even tried my cunt. The hole I’ve exercised to be as enjoyable as possible.
He stands before me and obediently I rise to my knees, opening my mouth to worship his demanding manhood. It’s throbbing hot against my tongue. He pumps it in and out of my mouth, fucking my face. My mouth is another cunt for him to fuck. It molds itself to his shaft. I clench my lips, remembering the words of one of my trainers, making my lips tight like the clench of the anus and my cheeks wet like the walls of my cunt. My mouth is both holes, all in one.
I can feel his cock twitching like all men do just before they spew their sperm anywhere. I don’t have to ask where he wants to put it. He’ll just do it. The Captain is in charge of me and my body. I’m here to serve him.
His cum is spraying against the roof of my mouth, onto my tongue, covering my teeth! I gulp instinctively, sending his jizz down my throat, then immediately wish I hadn’t. What if he wants to see his cum on my tongue? Since starting my training, I love the taste of cum. The creaminess. The hint of pee. The exquisite salty muskiness. When I was just a wife, I could take it or leave it. But now, I have to have it.
His balls finish pumping his sweet baby butter into my mouth. I’m not done though. Watching his adoring face, I like the Captain’s cock clean, washing all the remaining sweat, semen and saliva from the shaft and balls. I pay special attention to the tip of his cock, massaging the head with my tongue and grinning as he moans and gyrates, the sensitive nerves there sending intense pleasure directly to his brain.
Only after the Captain is completely clean and blown dry do I turn my attention to the aide. His cock has deflated a little, so I kneel before him and give him an enthusiastic, rough blowjob. As soon as his cock is fully inflated do I get back on my hands and knees and offer him my ass. To my surprise, he takes me in the ass too, his shaft scr****g past my anus, which has evidently closed a bit while I ministered to the Captain.
Now, with only one cock using my body, I can focus on the sensations and emotions as he mounts me and reams my ass. The feel of his boner penetrating my dirty hole. The pressure of his hands on my hips and back, balancing him atop my butt. His rough, excited breathing. The pressure of the air building up inside my bowels. The scr****g of my nipples against the carpeting as he bangs me hard. And the feeling of emptiness in my pussy, missing the other cock that I’ve gotten over and over again in the last six months of slave training.
Soon he’s ready too and I don’t even have a chance to suck him to completion when he runs around to my face and his cock spurts out cum of its own volition, splashing heavy and wet and warm onto my face, covering my nose and lips and possibly getting in my hair from the feel of it. None in my eyes, though, so I can see enough to find the head of his cock with my mouth and suck what’s left from the pee hole, giving him the same treatment I gave the Captain. And then, because great sex is visual as well as physical, I use his still-stiff cock to wipe his cum off my face, then tongue the cum off his shaft, over and over until he’s fully cleaned. Only then do I sit back, face still slick with his semen, and await further orders.
* * * * * *
Him:
“Will you accept her as our gift to you and your leadership?” I ask, still not 100% sure that this will indeed be acceptable to a man with military honor. If men were truly predictable, the world would not be in this mess.
The Captain pauses to consider this. “Yes,” he says finally. “We can accept this gift. We’ll take her with us today and treat her according to military regulations. As you know, it takes us f******n days to complete each round of patrols. So every f******n days, we can return her to you for one day.” My face must’ve shown my pleasure, because he smiled before continuing.
“And since it wouldn’t do for you to starve during those two weeks, my aide will give you an access card that will allow you to enter the Officer’s Mess here in town. Obviously, my superior officers would frown upon it if you exceeded the bounds of decency with this privilege. When we return, you can be man and wife for that day. But then we’ll take her back on the road with us.
“Corporal, after you’re finished dressing, see to the card for the gentleman. And get the impressive young lady a uniform.”
Her:
It’s not hard for me to get into the ‘uniform’ they provide. It’s a fishnet bodystocking that leaves my breasts, pussy and ass bare. And the rest is clearly visible through the sheer fabric. They let me pack a suitcase of personal belongings, rifling through my bedroom drawers and suggesting various articles of lingerie that they’d like to see me in.
My husband/Master gives me a brief kiss. We’d already said our goodbyes last night. And neither of us had expected the visitation to be so generous. We’d been prepared for two months apart, not f******n days.
I grab a coat on my way out but the aide insists on carrying it instead. The Captain would like to explore my body further in the car. And then in his quarters. My stomach is growling, but it’s not the first time I’ve had to subsist on cum before I get the next full meal. At least we’ll both be eating a full meal every day.
* * * * * *
To be continued…
By Bbonz1
NOTE: The stories contained on this blog and other places represent experiments in writing. Some succeed. Some fail. But hopefully each is enjoyable to read and even in failure they provoke a stimulating reaction.
The following is an experiment in short cuts for short stories. It is a work of fiction. Do not try this at home.
Narrative:
War has split the planet, conflict shattering the peaceful borders into millions of shards. Warlords rule most landmasses, their empires often no more than a few blocks square, wracked by an ever-shifting combination of alliances and allegiances. In this mass of chaos, food production for export has effectively ceased. If you don’t grow it at home, you don’t eat.
The major war lasted less than 12 months. The powers-that-be ended it quickly with strategically-placed nuclear strikes when it became clear that the ruling class might have to sacrifice some of their sons and daughters to defending their home countries. It was much more expedient to annihilate millions of poor people.
The resulting mushroom clouds swept billions of tons of dust and human ash into the skies, blocking the sunlight and sparking a new form of nuclear winter. The earth is resilient and began to heal itself almost immediately. But there’s not a person on the planet that hasn’t been harmed.
The United States is no longer united. States are no longer states. The federal government consists only of the armed forces and the Farm Bureau. Food is far more valuable than gold. In fact, food has replaced money as money. Libertarians and survivalists were right to stockpile food. But wrong to keep it to themselves. Most are dead because starving people have nothing to lose and will hazard a machine gun in order to get something to eat.
The armed forces have begun to provide a modicum of security within what used to be the states. Captain Mark McDaniels heads a contingent of about 200 soldiers responsible for keeping the peace in a 20 square mile section outside a major metropolitan area. His primary mission is to control the banditry that has overrun this part of the country. His secondary – but no less important – mission is to ensure the fair and equitable distribution of federal food. Captain McDaniels is noted for his resistance to bribery… in most cases.
* * * * * * *
Him:
I make sure that Captain McDaniels is comfortable in our best armchair and make sure his aide is well accommodated as well. It’s taken me a full month to set up this meeting. The Captain is a busy man, especially since the common occupation of most of this population is perpetrating banditry or being the victim of banditry. Distributing food takes up most of the rest of his time. What little is left is spent wiping off the attempts of regular citizens to get more food, whether by bribery or by force. The only reason the Captain is here is because I know something of the particular predilections that he and much of his leadership share. The information that I’m working from is innocuous at best. It could very well be wrong. If it is, we’ll continue starving. If it’s not, my wife and I might soon be well-fed, though one of us will be working hard for the privilege.
“Sir,” I say, “let’s get right down to it. Both of us are hungry. I’m hungry for something with some protein in it. And you’re hungry for something that you could take, but for your honor. Something I know you want, but your oath forbids it. But if it’s freely given to you, something you can enjoy as long as it pleases you.” The Captain is no fool. He knows what I’m talking about. As long as I stay carefully away from any implication of a deal or exchange or bribe, we can make this happen. I hope that I know what he wants to see next. His poker face is on. I’m acting in the dark here. I’m hoping my presentation doesn’t sound too rehearsed.
“Captain, if you’ll indulge me for a moment, I’d like to introduce you to my wife Karen. You may not know this, but she has a number of talents that might assist you in handling your arduous duties. I can’t imagine the stress you’re under while trying to protect this area. Leadership alone is a difficult task, which you – and your aide – have to deal with every day.” It’s his aide who confirmed my suspicions, in a way. His face remains as blank as his superior’s.
My wife enters on cue. She’s trained for this moment for almost six months, appearing before a number of audiences. None are as important as this one. I admire her poise and her appearance. She has selected a diaphanous white blouse and a playful dark skirt to wear. Nylons and black heels complete her simple but sexy ensemble. She’s still fairly plump despite our restricted rations, which goes well with the mass of curly hair atop her head. It’s her hair that helps her stand out from the rest of the population which sports straight hair in long, flowing locks.
“I’m thinking, Sir, that you might want to know more about my wife.” With this, I step in closer behind her, close enough that she can feel my erection through the back of her skirt. Even as I feel her slight smile, I reach around to her chest and begin undoing the top button of her blouse. “For instance, you might be interested in knowing that my wife’s breasts are just perfect for sucking.” The second button is undone, revealing quite a bit of her cleavage. She shudders visibly as my hands brush against the fabric encasing her breasts.
“And that her nipples, while normally quite erect, get twice as big when she’s excited.” Buttons three and four are undone, while I casually pull open her blouse so her hardened nipples are fully exposed. The Captain leans forward for a better look. I imagine I can see the beginnings of a tent between his legs. “Karen loves having men suck her nipples, don’t you dear?” Button number 5 is released. I pull the blouse up to get a better grasp of the last button, which pulls the fabric even farther to the side. Her plump C-cup tits, with a tiny bit of sag, stand out proudly, capped by diamond hard nipples that still seem to be growing. An excited intake of breath comes from the aide.
“If I may, Sir, point out a few more things about my wife’s tits? You see, we think that these nips,” and I pull out on each one for emphasis, “are connected by a forked nerve down to her clit. And every time you flick your tongue against one of these,” I pull them out, eliciting a gasp of pain, “it hardens her clit and makes her all the more horny.” With a bump of my hips against her ass, the front of the skirt momentarily clings to the front of her legs, emphasizing the V where her legs meet. Subtle meets graphic.
“Let’s just get rid of this,” I say, pulling her blouse completely off and dropping it to the floor. Still standing behind her, I support each tit with each hand, as if offering it to them. “If you haven’t noticed already, Sir, there’s plenty of flesh here for a good tit fuck, which Karen loves to give out. In fact, she can do it all day, can’t you darling?”
I have them now. No objections. No condemnations. No signs of disgust. Maybe I could stop here. But we’ve rehearsed this so many times, I need to see it play out. Maybe we all do.
“Before you see more of what we have to offer, we should speak of Karen’s oral skills. Stick out your tongue, darling. I’m sure it looks like a normal woman’s tongue. In a normal-sized mouth. Nothing too special. But normal women haven’t spent nearly a year learning every type of sucking skill known in civilization. Normal women can’t empty your balls with just a few licks in just the right places. And normal women don’t adhere to the hands-free rule of cock sucking, where no hands are allowed any time for any reason. Because if you want hands on your cock, you might as well just jack off yourself.”
I continue to massage her breasts, causing her to squirm back up against my erection, and almost causing me to lose track of my presentation. If it’s causing this kind of reaction in me, what’s it doing to these two gentlemen? “Not that Karen really needed all that much training, blowjob-wise. My wife was always particularly well-skilled down there.” A nice reminder of her being my wife and not some bought and paid-for prostitute. Which, I suspect, is what most of the other citizens have been offering this man.
I let my right hand slide down across her stomach and slip inside the waist of her skirt. It was her decision on how much – or how little – to wear for this encounter. So I’ll have to change my pitch to complement her outfit. Yes. As I’d suspected. No panties. For fun, I run my fingers through the fur above her slit. The Captain would know what I was doing. Her pussy patch wasn’t the only thing being manipulated.
As I pull my hand up, I unsnap the catch on her skirt and let it fall to the floor over her voluptuous hips. All is still for a moment as the two men take in the sight of her fuzzy pussy patch framing her long, thick slit. “You’ll notice,” I continue, as if nothing unusual is happening, “that we’ve left her unshaved. You can have it either way, of course. It’s just that some men like to see their jizz glistening in that forest of hair after they’ve cum. This way, there’s no need to wait for that hair to grow back.”
“Like all women, Karen is perpetually horny. Unlike most, she’s willing to do anything to get some cock in her cunt. Literally anything. She’s totally obedient and totally compliant. For instance: Turn around. Kneel down. And show the Captain your beautiful ass.”
I finally step away from her as she complies instantly, positioning herself so the Captain can get a good view of her rump and the heavy pussy lips hanging just below. The aide silently moves near the Captain so he can get a better view.
“Here’s how you’d usually see her, kneeling like a bitch and begging to be fucked. Isn’t that right, dear? Like porn pros, she knows how to keep herself clean, outside and inside. So when you want to fuck her ass, it’s not likely to get messy. While you’re down there, babe, why don’t you take off those stockings and let the gentlemen inspect your legs and feet. If you’re into footjobs, she has the kind of dexterity that makes it all worth the time and effort.
“Now open yourself to these fine gentlemen, won’t you? Notice how quickly she obeys? And how wet her cunt is already? That’s before anyone has even touched her. My wife is a hot slut, Captain Sir. With lots to hold onto when you fuck her. Not like those skinny girls that you see everywhere these days. That’s why I want to give her to you. As a reward for all your faithful service.
“But you don’t need to decide right now. How about a demonstration?”
* * * * * * *
Her:
I know what they’re seeing, these two officers, as they gaze down at me, my ass cheeks pulled wide apart, the many folds of my pussy leading to the entrance of my cunt. My husband and lately Master has filmed it as I prostrate myself before the strangers he hired to train me. Filmed it and made me watch it, so I know what’s driving those men crazy. What they desire. And how I can provide it even more. That’s more than most women or wives, who don’t know what they look like and how they can use it. That’s one of my unique benefits. And what will earn us more food.
So I pull my cheeks even farther apart. Cant my ass upwards. Let them see what they would see if they fuck me. And that’s what I want. So much, I’m ready to beg. All of my Master’s talk about my nipples and tits and clit and tongue. His insinuations that I’m a slut. I wasn’t always. But after weeks and weeks of gangbangs, all I can think about is cock. And cum. And laying helpless beneath a man who is in heat and needs nothing more than release.
“Demonstrate,” I hear in my head, though I can’t be sure who said it because I hear the blood pounding in my veins. It must be my Master, the part of my brain that can think tells me, because that’s the code word he gave me and why would these other men know that word?
I turn on my hands and knees to face the Captain who is sitting alertly on our chair, a tiny smile the only sign of his anticipation. That and the tent between his legs. He can’t hide that from me. Nor the musky scent of his groin producing pheromones, which I’ve learned over the past few months indicate a man intending to snatch all that he desires. My breasts dangle and swing with every crawled step towards him. My face is at his knees, my gaze directed at his crotch and the potent manhood straining to be released. I could pop him out and eat him up right there.
But my Master has wisely directed me to play with the Captain a while. To get him ramped up. To make myself indispensable. Though there’s always the possibility that he will fuck me and leave me. Leave our plan ruined. But I can’t dwell on that. There should only be me and my holes and him and his dick. A wave of unquenchable need sweeps through me. I want him in my mouth and my cunt and my ass simultaneously. I want him to never leave me. To pump gallons of cum into me. To exhaust me and fuck my dying body. I’m in a zone that I rarely entered before I was trained. My inhibitions are gone. All I want is to fuck.
Despite this, I maintain discipline and follow the plan. Crawl up onto the arms of the chair. Kiss the Captain with all the passion threatening to burst out of me. Invade his mouth with my tongue. Press my breasts against his chest. Guide his hand to my parted pussy. He rubs me, finger sliding between the lips, each touch igniting a firestorm that I let myself get swept up in. I crawl up a little farther, dipping my nipples onto his lips, letting him suckle at my breast, swaying from one to the other, his tongue rasping against the raw nerves, my juices flowing down his fingers.
The aide is standing close by, close enough for me to unzip his pants with my free hand. Close enough for me to pull his lovely cock into my mouth. But that would be wrong, my Master had said. You need to do the superior officer first, he warned me. So, perched on the arms of the chair, my dripping cunt just inches from the Captain’s face, I begin undoing his uniform shirt. I pull it apart. I encounter the stupid Army t-shirt. I’m prepared for this. My Master has trained me well. I push the shirt up and reveal his well-muscled, lightly haired chest. I fiddle with his nipples and he finally reacts, moaning and softly growling.
My hand slips down, under his waistband, until I encounter the tip of his cock. I can’t tell how big it is and don’t care. Just as long as it’s hard. Just as long as it ends up inside me. Reaching down, between my own legs, backwards, I undo his belt and manage to unbutton his pants. Then everything is tantalizingly out of reach. It’s almost time. But I must maintain my discipline. So it’s back up to his mouth. Another deep, drawn out, violent kiss. Another chance for him to suckle on my tits. Then I climb down.
Between his legs. He lifts his body so I can pull pants and underwear over his sweet butt and down to his ankles. Stupid army boots. I’ve forgotten about them and now I have to waste time removing them when I could be up in his lap, licking and lapping and sucking his impressive manhood. It takes forever to unknot his boots, an eternity to pull them off and I can’t unroll the socks from his feet fast enough.
“Submit.” My Master’s voice sounds like it’s coming from far away. I know that word. I know what it means. But I have cock on a plate right in front of me. Right. There. What does it mean again? Oh. Yes. I bend before the Captain, on hands and knees, and carefully, reverently, slowly (too slowly!) kiss the top of each foot. I remember that I can only suck him if he allows it. That when I submit, I can only do what I’m told. I lean back, like a puppy dog, and await the word that only he can provide.
But he doesn’t know what to do! I realize that as he stares questioningly at me. Will I be stuck here, inhaling the scent of his manhood, watching it drip pre-cum that should be on my tongue, slowly deflating because I’m not there to water it? “Proceed.” My Master! He knew what was wrong. I can follow his orders. Eagerly I bend forward, purse my lips and place a slow, wet kiss on the Captain’s purple cock head. It quivers below me. I taste salty cum. I smell his musk. I want to worship that hardness. Worship and fertilize it with my spit. So when he uses it on me, it’s harder than it’s ever been before.
Having respectfully demonstrated how much I worship his cock, I can begin cock sucking in earnest. I wrap my lips around his shaft, bobbing my head down until my nose is pressed hard into his pubes. I’ve never been good at estimating length, but I’m glad I can accommodate the Captain’s cock without it traveling down my throat. I can do it. All women should know how. But it’s not optimum.
I keep my hands away from it, though I urgently want to grasp and rub it. Hands-free has been drilled into me by my Master, through many, many painful lessons. Suddenly I remember a session at the glory hole where I mistakenly touched a cock with my hand, erasing credit for the nine previous cocks I’d sucked to completion. He made me start over. And I ended up sucking off twenty cocks that day. My mouth still aches to think of it.
Damn! Focus Karen! Only by focusing your attention can you give a man all the pleasure he deserves. I rub my tongue back and forth across the bottom of his shaft even while bobbing my mouth up and down on it. I’m told the sensation is nearly the same as sharing a DP in a hot and horny woman. I look up to find the Captain stretched out in ecstasy. I need to slow down or he’s going to blow his cum down my throat. It’d be good for him. But I can do better.
It’s time, I think. Or maybe I just can’t wait any longer. Pulling his wet hot cock from my mouth, I’m plain with what I want next: “Fuck me. Any way you want. Just get your big cock inside me.” I say it gaspingly, huskily, desperately. I want it in all those ways. If I don’t feel something filling up one of my holes, I feel like I might just die.
I haven’t even finished turning around to offer my ass to him when I feel the head of his cock sliding across my ass cheek. The head skims across my anus, then begins to probe lower down. He’s going to take my cunt. But suddenly the Captain’s cock is pressing against my anal ring, adamantly, and I tremble with anticipation. Yes! Fuck my ass, I silently pray to him. He’s gentle but insistent, pressing the head in slowly, wiggling it to find the easiest way past the stiffened gates to my tightest hole.
Unless you’ve had a cock shoved into your ass, you won’t understand the strange mix of uncomfortableness and pleasure that sweeps through you once a shaft is deep inside you. During my training, I experienced everything from brutal, no lube penetrations to soft and sensual anal sex. How roughly it goes in matters. After that, it’s all the same.
I try to relax, unclench, welcome him in. Eventually his cock head breaches my anal ring, which is still so tight it must feel exquisitely restricting to him. To me, it feels like I have to poop. My body wants to expel this foreign invader so bad, it automatically clenches up to shoot it out. Which, of course, feels like heaven to him.
Once he’s in, his instinct takes over and he starts pistoning in and out. Sometimes he pulls himself all the way out, just to feel the pleasure of breaching my tight hole again. Eventually, maybe because of the friction and heat, my anus starts to go numb. The discomfort subsides. The urge to poop goes away. And I’m left with the intense pleasure of being filled up in my dirtiest hole, seducing a man in the best way possible.
My moaning has attracted the aide, who stands naked in front of me. At my nod, he kneels before me and I bend to take his fat cock into my mouth. Which changes the angle of his boss’s attack on my ass. Which, from the groan he emits, feels much better to him.
A cock in my ass and a cock in my mouth. And… I feel myself slip into a blissful zone I’ve come to crave so much. Where all I can feel are brief moments and sensations. The aide palming my breast and twisting the nipple. Balls slapping against my ass. My leg cramping as his body weight presses down on my hips. The feel of a velvety cock head against my tongue. Nothing is connected. It’s all flashes and moments. Powerful hips slamming against my butt. A sensation of choking as a thick shaft touches my throat and impedes my breath. Two cocks isn’t enough now. I can take two more. Three more! My pussy feels empty without a cock ravaging its wet walls. I imagine a long line of soldiers, dressed in their uniforms, their hard cocks sticking out of their flies, all waiting to fuck me three at a time. And I can do it, literally living in the moment, while they release themselves on me, inside of me, atop me.
Suddenly the vacancy in my ass isn’t replaced by the Captain’s cock. He’s gone! I snap my head around to find him. Ah. He’s heading up to the front. The aide withdraws, making room for his boss. The Captain’s cock is slick with lube and sweat and whatever liquids cling to it from inside me. I realize he hasn’t even tried my cunt. The hole I’ve exercised to be as enjoyable as possible.
He stands before me and obediently I rise to my knees, opening my mouth to worship his demanding manhood. It’s throbbing hot against my tongue. He pumps it in and out of my mouth, fucking my face. My mouth is another cunt for him to fuck. It molds itself to his shaft. I clench my lips, remembering the words of one of my trainers, making my lips tight like the clench of the anus and my cheeks wet like the walls of my cunt. My mouth is both holes, all in one.
I can feel his cock twitching like all men do just before they spew their sperm anywhere. I don’t have to ask where he wants to put it. He’ll just do it. The Captain is in charge of me and my body. I’m here to serve him.
His cum is spraying against the roof of my mouth, onto my tongue, covering my teeth! I gulp instinctively, sending his jizz down my throat, then immediately wish I hadn’t. What if he wants to see his cum on my tongue? Since starting my training, I love the taste of cum. The creaminess. The hint of pee. The exquisite salty muskiness. When I was just a wife, I could take it or leave it. But now, I have to have it.
His balls finish pumping his sweet baby butter into my mouth. I’m not done though. Watching his adoring face, I like the Captain’s cock clean, washing all the remaining sweat, semen and saliva from the shaft and balls. I pay special attention to the tip of his cock, massaging the head with my tongue and grinning as he moans and gyrates, the sensitive nerves there sending intense pleasure directly to his brain.
Only after the Captain is completely clean and blown dry do I turn my attention to the aide. His cock has deflated a little, so I kneel before him and give him an enthusiastic, rough blowjob. As soon as his cock is fully inflated do I get back on my hands and knees and offer him my ass. To my surprise, he takes me in the ass too, his shaft scr****g past my anus, which has evidently closed a bit while I ministered to the Captain.
Now, with only one cock using my body, I can focus on the sensations and emotions as he mounts me and reams my ass. The feel of his boner penetrating my dirty hole. The pressure of his hands on my hips and back, balancing him atop my butt. His rough, excited breathing. The pressure of the air building up inside my bowels. The scr****g of my nipples against the carpeting as he bangs me hard. And the feeling of emptiness in my pussy, missing the other cock that I’ve gotten over and over again in the last six months of slave training.
Soon he’s ready too and I don’t even have a chance to suck him to completion when he runs around to my face and his cock spurts out cum of its own volition, splashing heavy and wet and warm onto my face, covering my nose and lips and possibly getting in my hair from the feel of it. None in my eyes, though, so I can see enough to find the head of his cock with my mouth and suck what’s left from the pee hole, giving him the same treatment I gave the Captain. And then, because great sex is visual as well as physical, I use his still-stiff cock to wipe his cum off my face, then tongue the cum off his shaft, over and over until he’s fully cleaned. Only then do I sit back, face still slick with his semen, and await further orders.
* * * * * *
Him:
“Will you accept her as our gift to you and your leadership?” I ask, still not 100% sure that this will indeed be acceptable to a man with military honor. If men were truly predictable, the world would not be in this mess.
The Captain pauses to consider this. “Yes,” he says finally. “We can accept this gift. We’ll take her with us today and treat her according to military regulations. As you know, it takes us f******n days to complete each round of patrols. So every f******n days, we can return her to you for one day.” My face must’ve shown my pleasure, because he smiled before continuing.
“And since it wouldn’t do for you to starve during those two weeks, my aide will give you an access card that will allow you to enter the Officer’s Mess here in town. Obviously, my superior officers would frown upon it if you exceeded the bounds of decency with this privilege. When we return, you can be man and wife for that day. But then we’ll take her back on the road with us.
“Corporal, after you’re finished dressing, see to the card for the gentleman. And get the impressive young lady a uniform.”
Her:
It’s not hard for me to get into the ‘uniform’ they provide. It’s a fishnet bodystocking that leaves my breasts, pussy and ass bare. And the rest is clearly visible through the sheer fabric. They let me pack a suitcase of personal belongings, rifling through my bedroom drawers and suggesting various articles of lingerie that they’d like to see me in.
My husband/Master gives me a brief kiss. We’d already said our goodbyes last night. And neither of us had expected the visitation to be so generous. We’d been prepared for two months apart, not f******n days.
I grab a coat on my way out but the aide insists on carrying it instead. The Captain would like to explore my body further in the car. And then in his quarters. My stomach is growling, but it’s not the first time I’ve had to subsist on cum before I get the next full meal. At least we’ll both be eating a full meal every day.
* * * * * *
To be continued…
Nanette
- 24.11.2021
- 11
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