The Facility (10 page)

Abul began to rise, “You belong to me,” he growled. “You obey or...”

Quickly she reached up to take his hands and kissed them. He sat down, waiting. “I...I...love you,” she whispered, “and I...I want you...want you so...so...very much.”

“Again, Mrs. Ryan. I didn’t see your little pink tongue,” he scowled, “and you forgot how you are to address me.” He paused, “You have always needed a man like me. It might be, Mrs. Ryan, that you never really loved your husband? It might be that you have been waiting for me...waiting to belong to Abul. Waiting to kneel before me just as you are. Yes?”

She circled her lips with the tip of her tongue. He leaned forward to place his hands on her breasts and squeeze her nipples. She caught her breath and winced. His face was only inches from her own. “My dear husband,” she tilted her head up, “I...I have learned to...to love you. I...I ...believe you are right. You are the man I need.” She paused and placed her hands on his shoulders. “It seems now that I...that I had never loved any man until you took me...until you made me your woman.” She parted her lips and again felt the cold wetness of his mouth on hers as she accepted his thick tongue. The revulsion she felt was pushing her toward the edge.

In her mind, she saw a vision of herself as others would see it on the tape. A young American woman in a white satin gown kneeling at the feet of this man, his rough hands painfully squeezing her bare breasts. They would notice his dark cockhead pressed against her white belly. Watching the tape, they would lean forward as she pressed her open mouth to his. And when the kiss ended, they would see her lips wet with his spittle and watch the color rise to her cheeks as she whispered a second time, “My dear husband, I...I want you. I want you inside of me.”

He pushed her down so that once more her head was even with his stiff cock. “I’m sure your husband had a little white prick,” he said. “What did you call it? Did you call it his prick? His cock?”

“We didn’t use those words. We called it his...his thing or his penis.”

Abul laughed, “His thing!” he shouted. “Well, tonight we’ll say ‘penis’. Did you suck your husband’s little white penis, Mrs. Ryan?”

“No...no...I didn’t, never.”

But is it not true he satisfied you in that way? It is a known fact that American men often defy the laws of both your God and man by licking the unclean secretions that come out of a woman’s dirty cunt. Did he do that?”

“Yes, he satisfied me in that way,” she said.

“Blasphemous,” he sneered at her. “Unnatural! A perversion! Proof of weakness. A woman could not possibly respect a man who would touch her impure cunt with his mouth!” His voice had risen and his face was flushed. “Am I not right?”

“Yes,” she said quickly, “yes, you are right.”

“Since you have known a real man, you now despise your husband for showing such weakness. It proves he was effeminate. Yes?”

Kathy compared Jeff’s strength and courage with the terrible abuse she suffered at the hands of this cowardly bully. “Yes, I have come to realize that his way of making love was unnatural.”

“A man like me would never lower himself to do that,” he continued, still agitated. He grabbed the shaft of his stiff penis and shook it in her face. “This, Mrs. Ryan, this is the Godhead. From this all life flows. It is this, the man’s prick that demands respect. It is our pricks that give us our strength and make us the Masters!” He pushed his cock closer to her face. She stared at the dark veined skin that bunched, gray and wrinkled at its tip. “Tell me, Mrs. Ryan, what kind of husband you would have…a weak, sniveling coward who debases himself by licking your cunt or would you have a man who shows you where you belong? A strong man worthy of respect. The old husband or the new, Mrs. Ryan?”

She bowed her head and closed her eyes. “I would have the new husband,” she said.

“Why, Mrs. Ryan? Tell me why you would have the new husband?”

My God, to think of Abul as a husband...to think of him as anything but a sadistic beast was impossible. But there were his threats of the whip and of bringing Mary Margaret here. Once more, she knew what she was required to say. “For the reasons you gave. You are strong. Worthy of great respect. You have taught me that my place is here, on my knees before you, waiting to serve...waiting to...to...”

“Waiting to suck my penis. The American woman, on her knees before Abul waiting to suck his thick, dark penis.” he interrupted. “Look up here at your new husband and tell him.”

She raised her head. In his face she saw nothing but scorn and hatred. “I am on my knees, dear husband, waiting to...to... suck your penis.” She saw he was not satisfied. “I am an American woman, a wealthy, educated American woman. A short time ago I was happily married to a wonderful young American man. I enjoyed all the luxuries a woman might wish for. But I want to be here now, just as I am on my knees before you, my Master Abul, waiting ...to suck you to suck...your great dark...penis.”

“Prick!” he shouted. “Penis is for babies. It is a weak word for weak men. Say you wait on your knees to suck my prick, suck my hard prick. Tell me that your red lips are hot and wet. Tell me how much you want to suck it.”

“I...I...am on my knees before you, Master Abul, waiting to...to suck your prick. Please, Master, I’m begging you. I long to suck it. My lips are soft and warm. I’ve painted them bright red so that you can watch them slide over your great cock. My mouth is hot and wet for it. I want to feel your great hard prick fill my mouth. Please, let me prove how much I want to suck you.” Gently placing her hands on his bare feet and looking up at him she wet her lips and whispered again, “Look at my mouth, Master Abul. I want to...want to suck you...suck you.” She moved her hands along his legs to his inner thighs. Continuing to look up at him, she wet her lips again. “Please, give me permission to make love to your prick with my mouth...please allow me to suck you...please permit your woman...your...your loving and obedient wife to suck you.”

“I wonder, Mrs. Ryan, how much the concern for your sister-in-law and the fear of the riding crop governs what you have been saying?” She continued to look at him, but did not respond. “Your silence is answer enough,” he said. “But I find that hearing you address me as ‘dear husband’ is amusing and hearing you say those three words Americans think are so important also amuses me.” He leaned forward, glaring down at her. “But with more warmth, next time, Mrs. Ryan, with more warmth. Make me feel that you mean it or I’m going to stop threatening. I’m going to order Miko to take you down to the place where you were introduced to the dwarf’s whip.”

The thought of the whip sent a shudder through her. Reaching out to his hands that still held his cock, she placed hers over them. Lifting her eyes to his, while she lowered her head to his wrinkled foreskin, she formed an open circle with her lips and took the gray puckered skin that gathered at its tip into her mouth. She swirled her tongue around the bunched skin and gently nibbled and sucked at it. Releasing him from her mouth, she tilted her head to look into his angry eyes. “My husband,” she whispered.

“Go on,” he sneered.

She looked away, then forced the words out. “I...I...love you,” she said. She turned back and saw that he was waiting for her to repeat it. She was aware of his hatred, of his need to hurt her. She lifted his hand to her mouth and kissed it. She leaned into him softly kissing his stomach, then his chest. Looking up at him, she whispered again, “I love you...I love the way you possess me, my dear husband.”

“Do you love me enough to have my child?”

“I...I think you know, Master, that I am unable to have children.”

“But if you were able, would you have the child of Abul?”

“If I were capable of bearing children, yes...I...I...would be proud to have a child with you.” For the first time in her life she was happy that she couldn’t conceive. But her doctors had told her that a simple operation would solve the problem. She and Jeff had decided that when they were ready for children, she would have the procedure. She wondered if Satomi knew this. He probably did. She’d even entertained the idea of having a child with him. But, Abul? Unthinkable!

She imagined his seed combining with hers. She saw her belly swell with his child. She was sure it would be a boy. It would look like him. It would be taken from her and trained in Abul’s ways. The young child would be taught to destroy the weak... the vulnerable, taught to hate...to hate women...especially to hate American women...taught to hate its mother. She imagined, again, the seed of Abul deep inside her traveling into her womb, penetrating her egg to produce a life that would grow...a life that would unite her with Abul forever in the most profound way a woman and man can be united...their child, hers and Abul’s. A shudder shook her body and she felt faint.

He sneered at her. “Tell your husband what you want. Speak the words.”

Reminding herself that video cameras were recording the scene, she sank to her knees again and, looking up at him, she tried to get as much conviction into her expression and her voice as she could. “Please, my dearest husband, I kneel here before you to beg you to make me pregnant. I...I...want more than anything to have your baby. Please put your great manly cock into me. Please fuck me, my husband, fuck me hard and release your seeds inside me so that I can give you a son. So I can give you a handsome son who will be brave and strong like his father.”

“What would such a son think of his mother?”

“I...I...don’t...don’t.”

“He would despise her!” Abul shouted. “Tell me, what are you? Don’t tell me what you were, but what are you now.”

She didn’t know whether he wished her to continue in her role as his wife or if he wanted the truth of what she was. “I’m your woman. I belong to you,” she said.

“And what does that make you, Mrs. Ryan?”

She understood now what he wanted her to say. “It makes me your whore.”

“Yes, my whore. And what services have you performed as my whore?”

To think about what she had done was painful but to describe her behavior, to name her actions made her feel as if a cold hand were squeezing her heart. “I have kissed your feet. I have sucked your cock and the cocks of your friends and the dwarf. I have swallowed your cum and the cum of your friends. I have begged you and others to fuck my ass. I have also begged to be whipped. I have confessed that I’m glad that...that my husband died because his death has made it possible for me to give myself to you. It has made it possible for me to become Abul’s obedient whore.” She bowed her head.

“So,” Abul put a finger under her chin and tilted her head up, “We must conclude that an American slut like you, an American whore is not worthy to bear the child of Abul. Is that not correct, Mrs. Ryan?”

She realized suddenly that he was right. If she could have a baby, the child would soon hate its mother and for good reasons. “I see that, as in everything you say, you are correct, Master. It’s true. I am not worthy to be a mother to your children.”

“Tell me, describe for me exactly what you are now and what you think is the highest thing you might aspire to become.

“I have become, as you have said, your whore, your young American whore. My…my greatest aspiration is to be worthy of the title ‘Abul’s American Whore’. My only purpose is to serve you...to offer my body to you. It belongs to you. My body is yours to give to others if you wish.” He waited for her to continue. “I must confess, Master, that your wanting me to think of you as ‘husband’ and call you husband surprised me. I cannot imagine a greater honor than to be wed to Abul. However, I know that what we are doing here tonight is only an entertainment, and that I could never aspire to be your wife. I am…I am…grateful that you have taken me to be your woman...your American whore.” She reached out to gently touch his hand. He lifted it to her mouth and placed a long, dirty finger on her lower lip. She parted her lips. Slowly he pushed the finger between them. Looking into his mocking eyes, she sucked on it.

“It is an acceptable answer,” he said, withdrawing his finger, “Now, stroke my prick while I put other questions to you.” She reached between his legs and slowly began to masturbate him. “Do you remember the night when I first came into your life? Describe it.”

“You were driving the limousine that was sent to take me from my house to a restaurant in the city of Pittsburgh.”

“On that night, could you have imagined that one day soon you would be kneeling before me naked, and licking the filth between my toes, cleaning the filth from my fingers with your tongue?”

“No,” she said, “that would have been inconceivable.” It was impossible to imagine that she had submitted so completely to this ugly monster. The gritty taste of his finger was still in her mouth. She could not, even now, quite believe that she had touched her tongue to his disgusting toes.

“Yes, you arrogant bitch, inconceivable,” he said sarcastically. “It was also inconceivable that you would take great care in making yourself into a whore, into Abul’s personal whore: painting your lips for him, rubbing your body with oil and perfume, wearing provocative gowns, preparing your ass to receive the limousine driver’s prick. Isn’t that true?”

“It is true, Master. But on that night, I was ignorant. I had not learned. I did not realize.” She continued to stroke his cock, which had become harder and darker.

“That night I ordered you to show me your cunt. Did you obey?”

She knew that recalling these things would make him furious, but there was no way to avoid it. “No, Master. I refused.”