by Frances G. Bennett

 

It was Ward's - Wood Demon's - alterations not only to Gina's body but also to her soul that so horrified and entranced Gina's dear friend, Frances ... She began to search, to probe. In the end, Frances knew it was her duty to chronicle Gina's brutal, erotic tale. Her resulting book, "Milk Bitch", is available from Pink Flamingo.

Left Nav Bar "Paperback Books"

"Maledom Fiction"

Serial PF4141

The ebook is available at Mobipocket.

Following are excerpts.

Why couldn't she move? She realized with shock that she was naked ... and somehow held immobile. Through the gloom she peered down at her feet past the bulge of her breasts. They were fixed wide apart against the wall by something thick and rigid. She strained her neck, twisting upward to see her hands. They also were held together full length above her head in painful, unyielding bands. The bands cut into her wrists when she tried to move her hands. "Metal?" she wondered, as her mind cleared and her horror and fear grew.

She turned her head and would have reeled back from the sight that met her if she was not pinned upright. It was a warehouse, large and bleak. A row of naked women were stretched full length against a long wall, their wrists and ankles locked in place by wide black bands. Single or groups of men stood in front of each girl, talking. She couldn't clearly see what they were doing but they appeared to be examining the girls.

... Will Gina be sold into slavery? Ward gives her a choice. ...

Ward painfully gripped a handful of her hair and pulled up her head so her eyes were a few inches from his. “These are the rules. They will be better and worse than you expect.” His eyes grabbed and held hers like in a hard fist.

“In the future I will treat you as an animal …”

“An animal? What did he mean?” she wondered, horrified.

“ … so you will not be required to call me Sir. However in this discussion you will say Yes Sir and No Sir so I am clear about your answers. Do you understand?”

Gina could barely bring herself to say the words … but she did. “Yes Sir.”

“On the surface your life will not change. Unless I decide otherwise, none of your friends or colleagues will know of your new status. You will still work.”

“But you will become my property.” He jerked her hair for emphasis and brought his palely luminous eyes even closer. “I want you to be very clear about this. I will own you. I will control your actions and eventually all of your thoughts just like I would my dog. And I will train you like I would my dog.” His eyes were relentless. “Do you understand?”

She didn’t really. First she hesitated, then started to explain. He smiled and placed his free hand on her stomach. Though she couldn’t fully look down, she glimpsed the edge of a flattened fist. The thought “It’s amazing how big it looks,” stabbed into her mind. Her body jerked and she stuttered out, “Yyyyes Sir.”

He smiled pleasantly. “I don’t expect you to fully understand … yet. But I do expect you to obey.” His voice was still soft but with an intangible yet chilling emphasis. “Do you understand?”

This time she was too afraid to hesitate. “Yes Sir.”

“You are intelligent and I will use your intelligence along with your body to manipulate my clients – whatever their desires.”

Her first response was amazement and disgust, then again fear. “Yes,” he said. She saw him following her responses in her eyes. “I will make you my whore.”

“For now you will continue to live in your apartment.” Possibilities leapt into her mind. She knew he saw them in her eyes but couldn’t stop them in time. His smile was icy and – she wondered why – he seemed completely certain of his words. “Don’t think you can escape.”

Ward released her hair. His smile was again pleasant but his words sent chills through her body. “This is the last choice you will ever make. My rules …” he shrugged, “…or I will give you to the Sheikh and take the twins.” Suddenly he was still. So frighteningly still, she thought.

Gina felt ill and exhaustingly overwhelmed. His silence deafened her and her mind raced through it in all directions at once. But she knew the truth. Really there was no choice. She did not want to respond. Finally her fear forced the word out. “You … Sir.”

Montie sat at the round dining table in the hotel suite, pontificating on the President’s latest foreign policy decision and stuffing excellent pate into his mouth. The suite was in his five star hotel located on one end of his sleek, meticulously landscaped downtown media complex.

For an hour Montie leered at Gina’s breasts. Suddenly, mid-sentence and mid-bite, he reached to his left and ripped apart the fragile pale green fabric of Eileen’s evening dress, exposing her lovely firm breasts and round pink nipples. Gina stopped eating, aghast. But she was far more shocked by the complete lack of response by both Eileen and Ward, who simply continued their meals. Montie cocked his head toward Gina. “Nice boobs.”

“Gina, take your top off.” Ward did not raise his voice but she clearly had no possibility of dispute. Gina stared into his eyes for a moment then slowly lowered the top of her dress for the slavering pig across the table.

Montie laughed uproariously. “Man! Nice cantaloupes! I bet you have fun squeezing those!” Then in celebration – or so it seemed to Gina – he again reached over to Eileen and pushed her face into her sublimely bloody Beef Wellington. He held her head down with his meaty paw while she choked and sputtered.

“No hands.” His voice was nasty, despotic, between the laughs.

Again Eileen made no complaint but simply did her best to bite off pieces of the tender meat and suck up the succulent young haricots verts. Blood and butter smeared her face and ran down her chin onto her exposed breasts and the shredded remains of her dress

How Gina hated this disgusting man! How dare he degrade her friend – or any woman – this way! Her eyes blazed with fury. She looked up, ready to tell the monster exactly what she thought and saw he was enjoying her indignation. Her mouth opened ... and she felt Ward’s sinewy fingers dig into the pressure point behind her knee cap. Pain shot up her leg. Her head snapped toward Ward. The warning in his eyes was unmistakable. Her mouth closed and she was silent.

Coffee and cognac were served in the living room. Montie leaned back on the huge white silk couch, one arm around Eileen’s straight back. With the other he patted his gut. “I need to take a leak.” He swirled his fingers downward. Eileen slid off the couch onto the floor. She knelt in front of Montie and unzipped his trousers, took out his penis and put it in her mouth.

Gina watched Eileen swallow. She was now horrified, amazed and thoroughly confused. This time she did not contemplate speech.

Eileen’s throat was still moving when Montie put his hand on her forehead and gave her a hard push backwards. Urine squirted onto her face and hair. She tumbled onto her back then gracefully stood up, smoothed her skirt and reseated herself next to him.

Montie nodded toward Gina. “Maybe she’d like some too.”

“I’ve only started to train her so no one’s pissed down her throat yet ...” Ward’s tone was polite, “... and I plan to do it first.”

In some primordial place inside her, Gina felt Ward’s control, his maleness. A thrill pierced her and she did not understand her response. She couldn’t control the sensations swirling inside her. She was distraught but also helpless to resist their pull.

The thought of drinking urine revolted her. Yet the thought of Ward making her do it, of his cock filling her mouth and his foul fluid flowing down her throat made arousal course through her body. She saw herself kneeling before him like Eileen had knelt before Montie and she pushed the image out of her mind, pushed it hard. But her body responded ... for a moment, until she heard Montie’s next words. She froze.

“OK. So how about if I fuck her?”

Only a short time in the past, Gina would never have imagined her new life - not even in her worst nightmares - and yet now the indignities only serve to make her ready for breeding ...

The two massive chandeliers overhead glowed softly onto the silver service plates and flatware, the cobalt and gold Napoleonic china, the faceted gilt-edged crystal. Most of the light came from the silver candelabra positioned along the length of the banquet table. Their flames bobbed and weaved, creating grotesque silhouettes amid the vines on the English wallpaper and across the highly polished golden satinwood tabletop. Ward, dressed in evening clothes, stared contemplatively into his glass of burgundy at the table’s head.

The butler led Gina far down the table to Ward’s right on a short chain hooked to an eyebolt in the massive wooden disk around her throat. Long glass suction tubes on her nipples bobbed precariously from her bulbous breasts. Her hideous shadow followed them, rippling across the wall like an Elizabethan clown, its collar and tits even larger and more deformed than her own.

Gina was naked except for high heels and a selection of Daddy’s devices. Ramesh had inserted wooden plugs attached to a double labial press that clamped each lip between two pieces of wood. Sitting wearing the device was difficult. The clamps’ thick sides and long screws dug into her inner thighs, forcing her legs apart. Yet both of her holes were gouged by the unyielding plugs if she did not perch on the edge of the chair with her back straight. Her resulting position was maddeningly cockeyed. And in it, the glass tubes protruded dangerously over the silver plate. Worse, she could barely see them or even her lowered hands around the collar.

As always, Ward had explained his intentions. He drolly told her that he enjoyed having her naked and mechanized in formal and refined environments, particularly now that her tits were so obscenely distorted and gross. It reminded him, he said, of his ownership of this piece of girl meat, of his total control of her body and her life, of his ability to degrade, alter and in fact damage her at his whim.

It was all perverse, awkward, intrusive and painful. But Ward had now accomplished a primary task. She was depraved. His degradation of her aroused her like nothing else in her experience. In her mind’s eye, she looked at her own distorted femininity … and then she looked at him …with electric surges of desire. She yearned to have him touch and manipulate her body to further extremes, to make her more gross, more abnormal, and then to bend her lurid mind and body uncompromisingly to his will. She wanted to open herself to him so her could use her – all of her or whichever part he desired.

Ramesh placed two heavy linen napkins on the woven seat cushion before he allowed her to sit. Gina had heard Daddy tell him she was only an animal and could not be expected to control her fluids. She looked at Daddy at the end of the polished table, the hard planes of his face slipping in and out of shadow with the candles’ flickers, his thick, capable fingers gracefully plying the silver. She looked at him and her attention went to her tits and cunt lips stretched tight as drum heads, to her holes forced open by the thick wooden spurs. Small squirts of fluid escaped her, just as Daddy said they would. Her bottom rubbed against the wet napkins.

Ramesh removed the service plates and replaced them with cream soup bowls on fragile bone china stands. He served Ward steaming soup from a large silver tureen. From a smaller silver bowl he served Gina the viscous white semen – now warmed – their impending guest had shipped from the Coast. He refilled Ward’s glass with burgundy then filled Gina’s with their guest’s deep golden urine.

When Gina was allowed to sit at table, Daddy required her manners to be impeccable. She lifted the silver soup spoon and struggled to eat the guest’s slippery cum with grace, careful not to knock the long suction tubes against the delicate bowl. Maneuvering the cum onto the spoon was difficult under the best circumstances. With the bulky wooden disk obstructing her vision it was excruciatingly frustrating.

Daddy would not allow her to sob at the table. But hot, infantile tears sprang into her eyes when she tried to separate a spoonful from the rest of the congealed mass. It slipped from the spoon. She tried again and managed to pick up a few drops. Then she had to hold the spoon perfectly level to get it to her mouth. When some of the precious substance landed on the collar she looked fearfully over at Daddy. His amusement was always dangerous.

Between bites, she sipped the foul golden fluid. The butler stood at her shoulder holding a short whip to make sure she consumed every drop.

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"Maledom Fiction"

Serial PF4141