President Slave Girl: The Homouth -- Book 1 of the President Slave Girl series (5 page)

Her ruminations were interrupted when her
captors came in and kicked her to see if she was awake. When her
eyes fluttered open, her homouth was briefly transformed back into
the real thing so she could eat. She felt the tickling, the strange
pullings and stretchings in her mouth and throat, and knew them for
what they were now. After her breakfast of water and gruel eaten
lying naked and hogtied on the floor before a mocking audience of
her enemies, the women stroked her and sat on her face and rubbed
her until the homouth came back. Then she was hauled to a room
filled with rings and bars set in the floor. In the center of the
room was a rough wooden bench. She was placed face down on it, her
ankles cuffed to the legs at its base, her hands tied together
behind her, a strap running across the small of her back, her neck
encircled by a wooden collar.

The bench extended from the base of her
throat to her hips, with deep, curved notches cut at either end so
that her head and her nether regions were not supported by it.

The women braided her hair. She found this
curious, until she noticed that they were braiding a rope into her
hair. For some reason, this frightened her, and she made slucking
sounds and moved around a bit, but tied down as she was, she
couldn't move much. It made very little difference to the women
braiding her hair.

She was also frightened when the women
strapped a harness contraption to her head. It had a strap that
went under her chin up the side of her face to the top of her head,
and one that went over the top of her head, and one that ran from
the back of her neck to hook up with the one that ran under her
chin. But the thing that really frightened her were the set of
things that projected out from either side of her head when it was
fastened in place, like two horns. Handlebars, plastic grips like
you find on a bicycle.

And affixed to the top of the strap over her
head was a bright, pink fuzzy ball of cotton.

The woman who'd strapped the harness on her
head grabbed the handlebars and used them to move Eileen's head
around in various ways, then apparently satisfied, she casually
patted Eileen's face and walked away.

A few minutes late, the first two men came
in. They were naked. Their things were showing, dangling impudently
in front of them. They were big things, much bigger than Tom's.
They were big men and they walked like big men, with a swagger that
sent their dangling dicks swinging. Eileen watched them advance
toward her with a peculiar fascination that was composed of equal
parts horror, fear and lust. She hated and feared men, especially
men who were too masculine.

She had been attracted to Tom precisely
because of his unmasculine qualities --his soft-spoken way of
talking, his slight, thin frame, his general lack of body hair, his
soft, gentle hands and most especially his big, dark eyes, his
rich, full lips and his weak chin. How could she have known that
for all his apparent girlishness Tom was in fact all man and thus
repulsive to her, once she got to know him?

The men in the room now were the sort who had
dark patches of hair, not just on their chests, but between their
shoulder blades and in the small of their backs. Their bodies were
covered with lumpy muscles, their faces craggy and hard.

They had a strong man-smell to them. It
wasn't that they were unwashed or unclean, in fact, they looked
fastidious in their nakedness. But they smelled like men, and
Eileen found the smell both fascinating and repulsive.

God, she did not want them to touch her, but
here she was tied naked to a bench that left her tenderest places
open to their casual use. She actually found herself trembling as
they approached. There was something about men that was so innately
defiling, so harmful by their very nature. She had trained herself
to shake hands with men and let them peck her on the cheek, but
that was all she could really handle. Such men as these were the
personification of evil and defilement of delicate feminine nature
by sexuality that her fundamentalist parents had warned her
about.

Now, it looked as if she was going to get
thoroughly defiled, whether she was ready or not.

The first man approached her, the other
walked to her rear. He smiled down at her. It was not a pretty
smile. She wasn't able to face the cruel knowledge in his smile. So
she looked at the floor, and saw his feet walk into her field of
vision. She continued to tremble in helpless fear as she felt hands
take the handles attached to her head and pull her head up.

Then there was no evading it. The man held
her head up and rubbed his cock against her face, her face enclosed
in straps. He didn't try to enter her mouth, because his cock
wasn't hard yet. She felt it grow hard as he rubbed it across her
face. Her every nerve screamed with revulsion and fear and horror
at the sight, feel and smell of it, but there was also that
undercurrent of sick lust, too. She was turned on by it at some
deep level, just like the sluts she despised. God, had they made
her one of them?

When his cock grew very hard, he pulled back
for a moment, then guided his cock into the unresisting, in fact,
slick with lubricant, lips of her homouth. Somehow when she had the
homouth on, her ability to close her jaws was rendered almost
nonexistent. They yielded to the slightest pressure, and she had
next to no strength in squeezing her jaws together, so that even
though she could feel her teeth behind the soft tissues of her
homouth, she could do nothing to defend herself with them. She had
found that out yesterday, with all those fingers probing her at
will.

But this was not the only problem she was
having. There was a man behind her, rubbing his cock against her
wide-open ass. The weight bench forced her legs far apart -- it was
almost as if she were doing a split. The man behind her rubbed cock
against her exposed nether regions and ran his hands freely over
her posterior, squeezing and fondling her ass. Soon, he grew hard,
too.

The man in her face entered her first. He
simply held her head still with one hand and guided his cock into
her mouth with the other.

Eileen had never had a cock in her mouth
before in her entire life. Tom had wanted her to do that, she had
bluntly refused. It was demeaning and degrading to suck on a man's
cock. Cocks were vile things anyway, what sane person would ever
want one in her mouth? It was bad enough having them in her own
nasty Down There place.

And now she felt the man's cock sliding
between the soft, yielding things her mouth had become, into the
slimy pink tissues that filled her mouth, and she was naked and
tied down like an animal and there was nothing she could do as it
slid on past her lips to the back of her throat.

In fact, she felt the cock sliding all the
way to the back of her throat, felt his pubic shelf collide with
her nose, felt his balls on her chin.

Eileen made strangling noises and tried to
turn her head from side to side, but there was nothing she could
do. The man had a firm grip on the handles that had been strapped
to her head. She could not move her face away, could not escape the
bulging thing that now filled her mouth. And as predicted, there
was no gag reflex, just the sensation of his cock deep in her
throat.

Worst of all were the sensations that were
coming back from her mouth. The tissues there were just like
vaginal tissues in every respect. They transmitted waves of
excitement and pleasure. Excitement and pleasure? At this? That was
not the real her, that was some nanoset-derived parody of her. She
didn't like this at all.

Meanwhile, she felt the other man's cock
bulging hard against her thighs, her ass and her pussy. She let out
a despairing moan as the man's cock suddenly began worming its way
into her pussy. Her hands writhed in their bonds, seeking futilely
to reach back and get that thing out of there. But her wrists had
been secured to the strap running around her torso, and she could
not reach down to get that thing out of there. She could only lie
there and feel it probing her inner regions, sliding past her
nether lips and feeling hard and hot between them. She was ashamed
of how easily it slid into her -- she knew what that meant from
reading about pron.

She could only lie there and take it as the
other man began sliding his cock in and out of her homouth. All she
could do was moan and wriggle, which was what she did, and it was
what the men wanted her to do. But she couldn't help herself, tied
there like that, it was impossible not to writhe with those cocks
sliding in and out of her, making those intensely nasty sexual
feelings rise while her intense revulsion continued.

Ultimately, the men were both all-out fucking
her, as she'd never been fucked before. Tom had always been so
gentle, so considerate, almost apologetic for his manly needs. She
had always liked that about Tom. But these men not only were not
apologetic, they used her like an animal, controlling her and
thrusting themselves inside her vigorously. The one behind her
slapped her ass every so often, the one in front literally slammed
his cock in and out of her mouth, unmindful of how it might feel to
have someone's cock thrust in and out of her face, their whole
pelvis thrusting against her chin. The feel of the man behind her
was hard, too -- his whole body thrust against her, pushing her
groin into the bench. She moaned in part at the pain of it, but
mostly at the power of it, at the feel of having her legs tied
apart like that while a huge meat engine thrust relentlessly at her
tender pussy.

Eventually the men groaned and came. The one
in the back was bad enough, spasming and thrusting, but the man in
her face was horrible. He rammed his crotch into her face and
moaned and she felt hot stuff coursing down her throat, and she
knew it was his cum, and there was nothing she could do. He thrust
back and forth a few more times and the reek of male cum was on his
cock, which was right below her nose, and she smelled it, because
she had to, and it was strong, too strong ...

When the man pulled his cock out of her
finally, the contents of Eileen's stomach followed, spewing out of
her homouth, a combination of water, gruel, cum and whatever
strange love juices the homouth conjured up. She convulsed on the
bench, retching, unable to control herself, while the man behind
her finished. It had not been a gag reflex that had made her vomit.
It had been sheer revulsion at being used so by a man.

She wanted to die. Why wouldn't they just
KILL her and get it over with? What had she done to deserve this
endless cruelty? She could not think of anything she could possibly
have done. She had striven for a NOBLE cause, dammit!

The man stepped back and let go of the
handlebars to avoid being splashed on by her vomit.

He was laughing.

"What the hell?" asked the man behind
her.

"Bitch barfed," was the laughing
response.

The other man laughed too while she lay
strapped to the bend with her head hanging down and a thin trail of
drool oozing out of her homouth .... which was changing back into
her normal mouth.

Oh, that was right. When a man fucked her
while she was bound, her mouth changed back.

"Better go tell them," said the guy. "Cleanup
on Aisle 3!"

More laughter. They were laughing at her in
her wretchedness, after having caused it. Men were every bit as bad
as she had always thought they were.

The men left the room, and for awhile she
laid on the bench, just glad that it was over, horrible as it had
been. It was over, that was what counted.

Five women came in the room after a few
minutes. They were all dressed in ninja suits and wore mirrored
shades. Seemed to be the uniform here, when they bothered to wear
clothes. They carried cleaning supplies.

"Damn, she did barf!" exclaimed one of them.
"I know they told me that her gag reflex would be disabled by the
nanoset."

"It was, said another. "I'll bet it wasn't
the gag reflex that made her barf, it was disgust. I bet she's
never sucked a cock before in her life."

"Probably not," agreed another.

They began untying her from the bench. Thank
God, they were going to show mercy on her.

"You made the mess, you have to clean it up,
honey," said one of the women. All of them had that slightly blowzy
sound to their voices she had come to associate with the older
women who had been arrested under the obscenity laws.

So they released her from the bench, but they
attached long leashes to her wrists and ankles. One woman took the
end of each leash in her hands and then they demonstrated their
power over her by using the leashes to force her to lie prone on
the ground and to gradually pull her arms and legs into a painful
spreadeagle.

Then she had to clean up the mess, on her
hands and knees, naked, while the women stood around and watched
her and made jokes at her expense. Every so often one of them would
give her leash a good yank and send her crashing to the floor.
They'd all laugh as she rolled in the filth and struggled to get
up.

After she had the floor cleaned up they
walked her over to a corner and hosed her down. They used the
leashes to make sure she stood with her legs and arms held wide
apart, and that there was no part of her that didn't get the hose.
They even stuck it up her ass for a quick and easy enema.

Finally, they took her back to the bench and
tied her to it again. She started crying silently as they tied her.
She did not know what was coming. But she knew that the head
harness hand never been removed from her.

"OK, don't do that again or it'll go worse
for you next time," said one of the woman as she made sure the
collar was snug around Eileen's neck. "You've got a lot of men to
take care of -- dozens and dozens, some of them several times. This
kind of thing will hardly speed things along."