Tormented Passage Read online

  It was a summer evening and though almost nine o'clock it was still light.

  "Slut!" It was an older woman wearing the black dress and headscarf of a religious fundamentalist who passed us as Captain Jude hailed a Jitney cab. Not everybody was happy about the sexual openness and trading of favours that was the mark of this century. People like that rude crow couldn't get their head round the fact that, with disease by and large beaten, people could trade and use their sexual talents in the same way as in the past an athlete had used his or hers. Of course that was the reality of our Earth-side society. Personally, though, I flushed to the roots of my hair, the fear that filled me didn't stop that. Getting used to being a slut and sex slave isn't easy and it might be my compatibility card that was screwed up and not his. Embarrassed I might be but she was right, it's what my card said. I felt humiliated yet I found it exciting too. Revitalised in an instant, my mood swung up again. I looked around at the Tri-D images that had started to become more vivid in the softening light. The upper levels of the tall buildings around us had the angled reflective surfaces that stopped these man-made canyons from being in a perpetual gloom but now, with fading light, the evening would become almost claustrophobic with the number of interactive advertisements intruding in your life. You could walk right through them even as they gave up their message to your ear but at night it became worse because they gained a spurious reality in the dimming light. They added the sensation of manic motion to the crush filling the streets twenty four hours a day. Was this the sort of environment that I wanted to live and bring children up in?

  A Jitney cab drew up and the Captain made me climb in. It was the first time in this type but I suppose I should have tried it sooner. The rank this one came from was obviously aimed at the clientele of that Selling Bar and it opened my eyes to what might be to come more than any trainer could. New alloys and ultra carbon fibre ensured that the Jitney was not only light but the mechanism was as near friction free as made no difference. It needed to be because the girls pedalling it were to pull both Captain Jude and I, a considerable distance and up one or two steep hills. Of course, in by-gone days everyone assumed that powered mechanical devices would take over all hard labour. Daft really in a world approaching bursting point. We can't let people starve and there are so many of them they might as well work. Especially criminals, why let them sit on their backsides when honest people are working to feed them? Oh, in most cases where the work is dangerous to health and safety or where consistency is ultra important, machines do the work. But that still leaves a lot of things that people can do as well if not better than machines, if of course a degree of unreliability is acceptable. For instance, the controller in the Jitney is a bot, it needs to be precise and emotionless to fulfil its role properly. I challenge a human to be unemotional. In appearance it looks like a ventriloquist's dummy but only because it doesn't warrant the effort to make it look realistic, the casing is after all only window dressing. It's the ponies that command the attention anyway. The head's quite handsome in an androgynous way, it doesn't have the macabre overtones of the dummy and, though the half body with its arms holding the reins is out of proportion, they're still shapely and pleasing to the eye. The ponies were pleasing to the eye too, two female convicts, (pony-girls used for public transport are almost certainly criminals of some sort under punishment, though because this was a private cab specialising in the BDSM trade they might not have been.)

  "Where to, Sir?" The bot was clever enough to recognise gender.

  "The Whipping Post Hotel." I felt a frisson of excitement as my slave slut life was about to start in real earnest.

  With my hands pinned behind me between my shoulder blades and my mouth plugged I could do nothing except lean back into the upholstery and accept what was to come. I felt, for the first time, the freedom that total abrogation of freewill gives to a slave and it was curiously peaceful. His hand slid through the opening in my skirt and found my pussy, automatically, as though I had been a slave forever, I opened my thighs to make myself more accessible. My breasts had bounced free again and this time he made no effort to replace them; instead he began to suckle my teat.

  "Ahhhh!" It was the only coherent sound the gag allowed me. For an instant I closed my eyes and revelled in the sensation. It had never been like this with the trainer. I opened my eyes again and looked past the bot cabby at the two muscular and well rounded female bottoms that rolled before us as they worked the pedals.

  CHAPTER 2

  The receptionist at the antique desk was blond, svelte and had two high apple-sized tits framed by her suit jacket and the collar of her white lined blouse. Neither was designed to cover her shapely little tits, more to display them and the brutally thick rings that pierced her dark stubby nipples. I stood there feeling horny, grubby and definitely sluttish as Captain Jude consulted with her. Before he could speak, she said. " I see you found what you wanted, Captain Jude?" She even had the cut crystal diction of the upper class and for a moment I hated her, then realised that we were sisters under the skin.

  "Yes, thank you, Hot Slot." I blinked at this. Not so upper class then.

  "You won't want my services tonight then, Captain?" There was regret in her tone.

  "Probably not, but you never know."

  "If you do, Captain, it would be a pleasure. I do swing both ways." Her eyes were hot on me and I felt myself flush. How could she, with another woman!

  "I'll remember that." He started to turn away from the desk then remembered why he'd stopped off at her desk. "Any messages?"

  "Forgive me Captain, there is ..." She swivelled on her stool and got up carefully. Within a short time of working with my trainer I had ceased to be surprised what women could take in their butts or pussies if they wanted to but even so I went wide eyed at its length and thickness. There was a glint of wetness on her bare fleshy and well-whipped bottom cheeks as they protruded through the open seat of her tight skirt. No definitely not upper class. She walked to a row of pigeon holes. It was all syncopated motion. The more expensive the hotel the more archaic they are. There was nothing archaic about Hot-Slot, she was slap up to date for this place. Returning to her seat she made a production of seating herself. I say a production but with a monster that big any girl would have to be careful. The Captain took the folded note and glanced at it as she sunk down with a liquid squelch.

  "Fine. Should Captain Chin ring back let him know I'll be at the yard tomorrow around two. Oh and unless the hotel is on fire I'm not to be disturbed for anything." Miss Apple Tits Hot-Slot looked wistful and squirmed a little on her cunt filler but simply said.

  "Yes Sir."

  I followed him meekly into the elevator. It looked just like one of those creaky old lifts you see in old vids but even though it creaked convincingly I could still feel the G-force as it raced up the floors. He occupied a penthouse suite and as he led me into it, it became obvious money wasn't a problem. I suppose when I saw that it was a fetish classified hotel I should have realised that, old fashioned had disappeared and modern luxury was everywhere. Most long voyage captains aren't wealthy men and girls agree to take up their berths for new worlds and children, not money. Seemingly Captain Jude had both. A hotel specialising in a particular fetish or eroticism is always expensive. There are always people willing to work at their fantasy but not all are physically suitable. Anyone can be modified but it's expensive and if you have your employer loan you the wherewithal, you can find yourself locked into an employment contract for a long time. Still, lots do it for jobs or private contracts but it's for that reason, amongst others, that make this type of hotels expensive, as I said.

  One wall of the main room was a huge Superglaz window -window? It was almost a balcony for the window folded and became a floor and you could actually walk out on to it. I stood looking down at the microlites diving and swooping in the up-drafts and currents around the towers. I didn't know what to do or expect so I just stood, not quite on the horizontal glass, watching the last
of them stunting in the purple haze of the twilight as he made a call. I didn't hear him finish the call and suddenly arms encircled me. Automatically I moved forward onto the glass floor as hands cupped my breasts. Standing at that great expanse of glass I felt afloat in the purple light. It was as though I was outside my body looking at hands caressing and kneading breasts, watching my meaty teats being pulled and rolled between thumb and forefinger. Suddenly my skirt was pulled up out of the way and I was lifted and forced against the glass, my captured hands were tangled in my skirt and I could feel him hard against my bare ass. There was no way the Superglaz could break and let me fall and still that almost emotionless feeling held me tight yet in my mind I was floating free above the ground. He was in me, so big and alive in a way that my trainer never was, so vibrant and so demanding. My G-spot wasn't massaged, it was battered and reality flooded back. All that I had seen and experienced in the few short hours since being mounted and being brought here flooded in.

  Confident or not of the Superglaz, even as I felt my body respond, the terror of falling took me, too. But that fear of falling and death only added to my arousal. I screamed into and around my gag and I came with massive mind numbing force as a lone glider swooped past the window, his eyes widened as he took in my tits pancaked and squashed against the glass. Then, as his eyes met mine and he took in the gag that spread my aching jaws, he stalled the glider and dropped like a stone. Just before I lost sight in the glooming darkness of the canyons between the blocks, the tumbling fall turned into a glide and he swooped gracefully away. He had regained control before the safety devices cut in but I guessed he didn't have enough updraft in the cooling air or light to come again and confirm what he'd seen.

  In my warm post coital haze I wondered what fantasies the pilot would have before he slept. Or would he just be disgusted at a girl so obviously co-operating in her humiliation? No, I thought, he wouldn't have been swooping around this particular building if he was gay or straight, he would be horny as hell tonight I thought and found the thought pleasing.

  I got my dress off easily enough after he released my arms and I was directed to the bathroom. The bidet with its dildo nozzle gave me pause for thought, though, as I struggled with the laces of my corset that my trainer had pulled so tight. It wasn't that I had any ignorance left as to why that particular accessory was fitted to the bidet, my trainer had ensured I was well scoured out before I was taken to the bar and mounted. No it was rather that this was to be the first time I was actually prepare myself for my own master. Rolling my corset up into a tube, I laid it on the vanity unit and looked at the honey gold complexion and full ruby lips of the girl who stared back at me with round amber eyes. Framed by thick black hair the face was mine, yet tonight I saw a stranger. A slut, a slave, a sex toy and a plaything, a creature without freewill. I shivered and trembled as a tongue flicked out nervously. That simple act and the sensation on my lips jolted the tape into synchronicity again and it was me once more. I began to sit, offering my sphincter to the jutting spouts. Physically it was bigger than I had experienced so far and mentally it was to be an act of collusion and affirmation of my new status. The bulbous head popped through my tight ring and I gave a low moan that none save I could hear. The special pain that only a virgin or near virgin butt can feel built but I carried on lowering myself down on the slippery material of the nozzle until I sat fully plugged and breathing rapidly, allowing the cramps to ease as I knew they would. My pussy pouted from the internal pressure and tentatively I touched my lips and clit. It felt like and electric shock and I could see my labia gleam wetly. I blushed, embarrassed at my own arousal.

  The little control panel on the wall by my side had various settings but I chose standard. I could only take so much new experience. I couldn't wait for the initial discomfort of impaling myself to recede further so I pushed the button. For a few seconds my bowels received a chill flow but rapidly the water became blood heat and the cramping sensation started to increase again and fill my expanding belly. Unnecessary or not at this time to cleanse myself, it was baptismal. The water stopped automatically just at the point I thought I could take no more and the spigot began to slide from my butt. There was that popping sensation in reverse as it again broke through my sphincter and the fluid inside me was let go and I moaned long and low as a climax of confirmation took me. The bulbous head nudged my sphincter again, almost as though tasting me and for an instant it seemed as though it would fill me again but instead there was a chime and I looked at the control panel to see a display saying, "Ready for use." Somehow I knew it wasn't referring to itself and I blushed again.

  Showered and refreshed, I stood before him clad only in hold up stockings and the high heeled bootees left out for me. My hands were clasped behind my back and my head meekly bowed. It was as much nervousness as the instruction my trainer had given me that made me show my submission. This stranger had bound me, displayed his mastery to the world, or as much of it as we had seen coming to this hotel, and fucked me. But for all our cards had seemed compatible, I hadn't exchanged more than a few hundred words with him at the bar and in the Jitney. Being used so had been beautifully sluttish and whorish and I'd found it exciting in the extreme but it still had an element of play-acting to soften reality. Reality was a well I was sinking deeper into as the minutes went by. This man now had total power over me. I was contracted to him and to break that contract was a criminal offence. I didn't want to end up pedalling a Jitney, to be used by anyone who wanted to pay for me. Punishment always matched the crime these days. If I broke my contract to submit, I would be forced into it and you could guarantee it would be submission to something I would hate. Within my contract I could rebel as much as I wanted, indeed if I suddenly discovered a dominant streak or I disliked him as a person so much I could fight him anyway I wanted. This was perceived as being part of the role into which we had both contracted but I couldn't walk away from him or ultimately refuse to interact with him.

  "Let's have supper." His voice was soft and friendly as he indicated a seat at a table that had been set whilst we both showered and changed. Well, he had changed, stockings and bootees wasn't much of a costume, he, though, wore a one piece grey silk lounger that showed off his tight knit muscular body. I walked across to the round table, conscious of the bounce of my unfettered breasts and rolling bottom. I think all my cheeks blushed. He had an old world manner to him that I found disconcerting at first. He pulled out my chair for me to sit and the seat cupped and moulded itself to me. No dildo thrust at back or front, nothing buzzed or vibrated, it was more like the caress of hands that knew and loved me and as I shifted those hands would follow and stroke.

  "Eeeeek!" The sensation disconcerted too but didn't displease me.

  "Wine?" I was suddenly very thirsty and my throat dry. He watched me lick my lips and didn't wait for my verbal response. The wine, cold and dry, was like a lotion on my throat. "We seem to be compatible but this is all new to me so I think, Ginny, we need to get to know each other a little more than on an electronic level." Strangely 1 blushed and it was at that point there was a knock on the door. "Come!"

  We live in times where we're all so much more open about the physical body and our fetish and fancies but it wasn't so long ago that 1 was a virgin living at home and, like most parents, Mum and Dad brought me up in a manner that educated me about sexuality but didn't confront me with it. At home I was dressed with a degree of modesty within the current fashions and I still wasn't sure what their particular eroticism or fetish was. In fact, like most children, I knew my parents were, but didn't actually believe they were, sexual animals just like the rest of us. Having been Psyche Profiled for the card I knew my own orientation but knowing and seeing the scene up close is something else. A man in an old-fashioned wing collar, coat and tails entered the room. He looked quite young, it's difficult to say how old people are these days. His hair was black as night and slicked back close to his head. A thin moustache lined his upper lip and his eyes h
ad a hard glitter as they locked for an instant on my nudity. He clicked his fingers and two maids entered the room pushing trolleys. Both were clad in tight black rubber uniforms with white rubber frills. As they pushed, their full, bare and belled breasts hung free of their bodices and the skirts and aprons were so short that they showed bottoms and tight strapped pouting pussies, so tight strapped indeed that the straps almost disappeared between plump and swollen labia. When they straightened and stood awaiting their next orders, their mounds were exposed and the same strap bisected them and created twin humps where nature had given one. It was clear that the straps held plugs deep in them. They moved continuously on ballet boots that held them on point and because of this their legs were made to seem impossibly long and shapely in their tight black rubber stockings.