Bound for Glory (3 page)

“C’mon, you bastard! Fuck me harder!” she whispered in his ear, holding him tight to her and bucking back at him ever-harder.

“Bitch!” he growled and slammed into her even harder.

“Yes! Fuck this bitch! Fuck her! Ooooh!”

Greg suddenly reached behind him and grabbed her left leg, dragging it up to lie it against his shoulder. Anna cried out as his penetration of her increased instantly. He did the same with her right leg and she felt him butt up against her cervix as he sheathed his cock to its fullest length. It was almost painful but it was so good too!

She almost screamed as he lifted himself slightly and then rammed down into her again and again.

“Yes!” she cried triumphantly just before overload robbed her of speech entirely.

Greg roared in answer and froze at the point of his release just as Anna’s mind splintered for a second.

And then both of them were panting and gasping in the aftermath, limbs entangled and chests heaving. Slowly Greg pushed himself up and rolled off her.

“Shoulda let me tie you. You’d’ve howled like a banshee!”

“No.” It was all Anna could say, she was still recovering from the climax.

Greg was a good fuck and she didn’t trust herself to say anymore, she swallowed and cleared her throat, then levered herself up onto the side of the bed. She felt it was best to escape while she could. She was beginning to think that he might be right. If he could fuck her to the stars twice that quickly, what would it be like if she were helpless to stop him ravishing her at his will. Her treacherous mind’s eye played out a scene with her arms held above her head, her legs splayed lewdly wide and Greg, naked and muscular, thrusting into her again and again...and again. She would be helpless to stop him, helpless to prevent herself orgasming time after time.

With almost indecent haste she tottered to her feet and found her bikini. Ignoring the wetness seeping from her cunt, she put it on and let herself out, saying nothing to Greg. But as she closed the door behind her she could envisage his cool, mocking grin.

Back in her own room she washed and changed, then went to lunch. She had a couple more glasses of wine than usual and then went to watch some pony racing from the games being held in Africa. The screens in the viewing room projected full size, holographic images at one end of the room and she and her guests let the heat of the day outside pass as they made bets and cheered on their fancies among the harnessed and sweating slaves as they raced under their drivers’ lashes.

Anna found herself sitting beside Alice – as nearly naked as she herself was, clad only in a three-triangle bikini.

“How did it go with Greg?” Alice asked in an interval between races. In front of them they could see a driver bending down to unbuckle the crupper from a pony and ease the plugs from her body, prior to coating the butt plug with his stable’s preferred mixture for tormenting the pony’s rectum and making sure she made for the finish with all speed. The men in the room cheered as the slave squealed around her bit as the plug was twisted and pushed back up into her. Anna smiled a little too, she liked the sound of a slave squealing.

“He’s pretty good!” she told her friend.

Alice grinned widely back. “He’s amazing! Did you let him tie you up?”

Anna shook her head.

“Big mistake! It gets him turned on and it gets you turned on and Kerblam! he’s fucked you into outer space before you know it!”

Anna wasn’t quite sure how to reply but was saved in any event by the pony race starting. The whips sighed and snapped across the slaves’ backs as the rigs surged away from the line. Naked thighs pumped and flesh gleamed with oil and sweat as the cameras tracked the action and the life-sized images raced across the room, seeming to disappear into the walls.

Later on Greg put on an exhibition by the pool. He bound Alice up, winding rope around her upper body, pushing her barely concealed breasts through a gap between loops, taking a line between her legs and joining it to more loops taken around her buttocks. Eventually she was hauled up, her wrists tied to her ankles behind her, by passing the rope over the branch and her whole body hung about four feet in the air. To Anna’s surprise, Alice seemed quite happy and even allowed him to put a hood over her head. Then he spun her around on the end of the rope and cut her bikini off her with a large knife when she stopped spinning. There were cheers and whistles as Alice’s blonde pubes appeared once her panties had been ripped out from under the rope. When her breasts appeared they were tight and already a little darker than the rest of her skin but there was no sound of protest from under the hood.

Moving quickly and with complete assurance, Greg placed a clothes peg on each nipple and then managed to squeeze some onto her labia where they split around the rope and still Alice didn’t make a sound. Anna had seen plenty of far worse treatment dished out to slaves and seen them orgasm at times. But those were just slaves. Prisoners. Not real people – like Alice. Anna was amazed.

Fully pegged, Alice in her aerial hog tie was pulled further up so that she hung well above the crowd and Greg took a bow.

“She’s ok up there for an hour or two,” he said. “Unless any of you gentlemen would like to see how turned on she is.”

“I can see from here!” someone cried out and there was much laughter as everyone saw the dark patch on the rope that ran between her legs.

“She’ll be a class fuck when she comes down!” someone else chimed in and in the end a list of names was drawn up so that Alice’s night was fully booked.

Anna was disturbed at the sight of such helplessness on the part of a free woman, it made her uneasy just seeing such loss of freedom.

In the end she slept with three different men as they waited their turn with Alice and woke to a sunny morning, refreshed, tousled, relaxed - and ready for another week’s partying.

Chapter Three

The pharmaceutical company’s offices were in a large, modern building set at the end of a
cul de sac
in a fairly recent industrial estate outside one of London’s satellite towns. The limo dropped Clive at the front steps and he was greeted by Doctor Styles, who was a small man with thinning fair hair and a worried smile, who bobbed and almost bowed as he shook hands with Clive.

“So pleased to see you, Home Secretary!” he enthused. “It’ll be an honour to show you what we’ve accomplished with your grant!”

Ah! So it was one of those, Clive thought. We’ve been subsidising them for years and now they think it’s time they showed us something or we’ll cut them off in the next round of treasury bargaining.

“Always a pleasure to see how well the tax payers’ money’s being spent!” Clive replied genially, and was surprised at the doctor’s response.

“Then I venture to hope, Sir, that you will find today a very special pleasure indeed!” he said and rather than being put on his guard as Clive had intended, he seemed to relax and become more confident. Clive was intrigued.

The man became so self confident that he actually led Clive by the arm up the stairs and into the main building, almost rushing him past reception and then hurrying him along clean, well-lit corridors before ushering him into a large, bare room where several men in white lab coats waited. There was one plain metal table and one simple folding chair. Beside it stood a stainless steel trolley with various dishes and implements covered by white cloths on its top. Bizarrely, its lower shelf contained chains, cuffs and a flogger.

Along one wall hung many backlit images of the human brain seen from above, Clive recognised them as being scan images. The doctor moved to them quickly and took up a pointer before turning to Clive, clearing his throat and addressing him in his best lecture theatre manner.

“As you’ll be aware, Sir, the slave prisoner project has been dogged by one major problem; namely the rump of otherwise suitable subjects who refuse to buckle under to arena training or even more worryingly to domestic discipline. This second one is the more worrying as it represents the loss of a longer lasting tax revenue opportunity for the government. Quite apart from the expense of keeping them in corrective custody.”

He was well aware of this fact! Once a girl had been trained in the arenas, she was a valuable commodity for wealthy households who could buy extensions on her sentence to keep possession of her, for a small fee the sentencing judge would pronounce her unfit to return to society – or in some cases the girl herself would sign up for a longer period of service. Obviously there was a tax element in the purchase prices, both to the arenas and to the families. But it was quite true that a troubling number just wouldn’t knuckle under and they had to be kept in expensive prisons.

“We feel here at Theraputics that we have an answer!”

The doctor was beaming from ear to ear as he saw Clive straighten up and really pay attention.

“Now, look here please.” He turned to the images and pointed at a red splurge in the central area of the brain in one of the scans. “We can see the activity within the brain as the subject reaches orgasm...” He moved along to another image and indicated an area where the red had spread farther. “Here is the subject’s peak,” he said and then moved along a bit further before pointing again. “And here,” he said, “and here.” He was definitely looking at multiple orgasms. Nothing new in this technology

“In short, Sir, my assistants and I have succeeded in producing a major breakthrough. For a long time we’ve known where in the brain the vital signals come from but now we have devised and designed a chip that will stimulate those emissions continually in a subject, rendering them sexually aroused at all times. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, three hundred and sixty-five days a year. It will turn even the most recalcitrant prisoner into a sex addict, unable to do anything other than agree to whatever gets her her next orgasm.”

The doctor finished and beamed triumphantly at Clive, who was already turning over in his mind what he had heard. The implications were profound and far reaching indeed. If it was true.

“I would need to see some pretty convincing proof.”

“Of course. But I am quite confident you will find that our further research will be well worth funding!”

Alarm bells started ringing in Clive’s brain. Some pretty elaborate frauds had been committed in the past when it came to getting government funding, but if these geeks really had found a way of guaranteeing the obedience of even the most difficult prisoner...well he had to look into it.

“Okay, doctor. What do you have in mind?”

“A simple demonstration in this very room. With our previous grant we were able to buy some ‘returns’ from a couple of arenas.” A ‘return’ was the common name for an untameable prisoner. “We’ve kept the worst of them back for this very demonstration. Shall I have her brought in?”

“It’s your show,” Clive said, intrigued by the man’s calm self confidence.

The doctor gestured for Clive to come and stand by the images and then he rang a bell mounted beside them on the wall.

“I’m afraid, Home Secretary, you will need to prepare yourself for some noise. This one is really a choice piece of guttersweepings!”

A second after he had spoken the door to the room flew open and slammed against the wall. Two large men in white coats began to fight to get a girl into the room. She was handicapped by having her wrists held by cuffs clipped to a pole that stretched across the full width of her spread-out arms. Despite that, she was giving two large men a hard time. She was dressed in a simple unbleached cotton shift that might have reached to mid-thigh if she stood normally, but she had her legs braced well apart and her thighs were virtually naked; shapely ones, Clive noted as she lashed out with one foot and caught one of the men a painful blow in the stomach. He swore and with a savage heave, sent her flying into the room and crashing into the table. The other man followed the girl in and pinned her to the table, getting his leg across hers to stop her kicking. Then both men manoeuvred her to sit in the light chair and reached for the chains from the trolley. While they worked, Clive looked more closely at the girl, her tousled and greasy blonde hair fell shaggily over her face, but when she shook it back angrily and glared around her, he could see she was not unattractive but a few bruises to her cheeks and a fat lip didn’t help her looks.

She sneered nastily when she saw the doctor.

“Going to try and beat me down again, are you?” she asked. “It won’t work you shitty bastard!” she snarled in a broad Northern Irish accent.

As she spoke, the men carefully detached one wrist from the yoke and as she struggled in vain against their strength, they forced it down onto the table, cuffed it with one of the cuffs from the trolley and chained it down to a ring set in the floor at the side of the desk.

“The virtue of the procedure,” the doctor said to Clive, ignoring the girl and the struggles going on at the table, “is that once it’s done, even though the subject is aware of what’s been done to her, she has no desire to even attempt to remove the chip or to interfere with it in any way. It’s simply too much pleasure for her to want to lose it!”

Clive glanced across to the table where the girl was making strenuous efforts to bite one of her guards’ arms as he held her hand down as it was cuffed and chained. He raised his eyebrows. That would be some result with a hellcat like that one, he reflected. And she certainly seemed genuinely recalcitrant and not some actress they’d got in to try and convince him of the grant-worthiness of their scheme.

“I promise you, Home Secretary, she is every bit as rebellious as she seems,” the doctor said as he handed across a file which had the girl’s record of affray, assault, conspiracy to commit burglary, burglary, drug dealing, GBH, perjury...and so it went on. Some of the attacks that she had been involved in were actually shocking even to Clive, whose work had taken him into some dark places previously. Everything looked totally genuine. The girl was a menace and irredeemably vile.

“You fucking pencil-dicked shitbags!” she screamed in final defiance as the guards stepped back, both stroking the cattle goads they had at their belts hopefully. Her wrists had been shackled wide apart, necessitating her bending forward from the seat slightly and making her glare up at the men around her, her blue eyes glittering with malice. Clive decided she was for real – and thus, so was the doctor.

“Okay, let’s see what happens. I’m impressed so far.”

The girl snapped her head round when he spoke and invited him to perform an anatomically impossible sexual act.

“I hope you’ve got it turned up to maximum,” Clive murmured as the doctor prepared a probe with an almost invisibly small chip at its sharp end. At a nod from him the guards stepped forwards again and rammed the girl’s head down onto the table, then scooped her hair up at the back. Clive had seen any number of chips implanted in arena slaves but they only stored information about the girl who carried them. This chip would fundamentally alter the girl’s entire personality. Or so it was claimed. He held his breath as the doctor approached the still-swearing girl whose head was now held fast by one guard whilst the other held her hair clear of her nape. With a sureness that suggested a lot of experimental subjects had been through this procedure before, the doctor plunged the probe in, depressed a small plunger and then removed it. Again the guards stepped back.

The girl reared her head up immediately and began a tirade of obscene abuse at the top of her voice but after only a few words she began to stammer and look bemused. Her eyes lost their focus and seemed to be looking inward, they rolled up into her eyelids unpleasantly for a second before returning to normal and she sank back down onto the table, resting her cheek on it. Clive bent down to look at her expression and was amazed to see a smile begin to play across her lips. Suddenly she sat up as far as she could and shook her hair back again. This time Clive could see that there really was an attractive girl beneath the violent sociopath she had previously been, her face had softened and the hard fury had gone from her eyes. She looked about her as if seeing everything for the first time.

“How do you feel?” the doctor asked.

“I’m...I’m fine...yes, fine...thank you, doctor.” As she looked at him, she gave him a bright smile. “I feel just fine!” she added.

“You know what’s been done to you?”

Her face clouded for a second but then she smiled again. “You put something in my neck.”

“Would you like me to take it out?”

Clive held his breath and for a moment there was complete silence in the room. Then the girl’s smile widened, she bit her lower lip and shook her head.

“No, thank you. It’s very nice.”

“Why is it nice? What does it make you want to do?”

The girl gave a low throaty chuckle that hot wired Clive’s cock. It was a primevally sexual sound; a woman wanting a man to take her.

“Ok, release her hands,” the doctor told the guards. “We’ve done this procedure enough to be confident it’ll work in all cases but we did save the hardest case we could find till you were here,” he told Clive as the girl was freed. “Now let’s put her through her paces.”

Clive was amazed at how the girl didn’t seem to care that she was being talked about. Instead she was blatantly staring at each man in turn, appraising and measuring him, invitation writ large on her face.

“Come here and kneel down, I want to fuck your face,” the doctor said with such candour that even Clive was surprised. The girl wasn’t fazed in the slightest, however.

“Oh, thank you, Doctor! I was going to ask if I could start with you,” she said, standing up, going to him and kneeling obediently in front of him. The doctor simply opened his trousers and fetched out a rapidly hardening shaft of thick cock, grabbed the back of the girl’s head and rammed her onto it, barely giving her time to open her mouth fully. Nevertheless, she took him in deeply with no murmur of dissent and began to nod her head back and forth, taking him in so deeply her face was buried at his crotch from time to time. Inevitably the tight caress of her throat had its effect quite quickly and the doctor tightened his grip on her head, forced her face against him and vigorously thrust with his hips as he came. Even Clive had to admit it was one of the most careless and masterful face-fucks he had ever seen. But the girl rode his erupting cock smoothly and once his initial spurts had stopped, she reluctantly let her lips slip from around the helm but held the shaft so that she could wipe that last few drops on her cheeks, in the hollows of her eye sockets and even in her hair. The doctor calmly did up his trousers and jerked his head at the next man. Without attempting to rise, she turned to him as he opened his flies and freed a rampantly erect cock which she took into her mouth just as eagerly.

After three more passionate blow jobs, her face streaming with thick snail trails of sperm she hitched up her shift and began to play with herself.

“Stand up you slut! Let us see you!” the doctor barked.

The girl closed her eyes in delight at the insult and climbed eagerly to her feet, where she stood with her legs spread wide and both hands busily working between them. As Clive had rightly noticed her legs were long and shapely and her arms, coming forward to join at her groin, emphasised her breasts which joggled beneath her shift as she frigged herself.

“What are you?” he asked her, going to stand beside her and almost whispering in her ear.

“I’m a slut. A naughty girl who plays with her pussy in front of men.”

“And naughty girls must be punished.”

“Yes!” she breathed with no hint of anything but pure pleasure.

“Do you want to be punished?”

“It makes men hard when girls are punished. I like men with hard cocks,” she said simply, her breathing becoming more ragged as her fingers rummaged and stroked more and more urgently.

“Stop!” the doctor ordered but she ignored him and ground herself more fiercely against her own fingers. The doctor looked around at Clive who straightened up and looked serious at this disobedience. The doctor merely smiled.