President Slave Girl: The Homouth -- Book 1 of the President Slave Girl series (2 page)

"All of those things are legal to do to you
now, Eileen," said Naomi. "You can be raped. You can be beaten. You
can be robbed. All the perpetrator would have to do is show that
you are who you are, a person stripped of her legal rights, and
that would be it. Case dismissed. And there are a lot of people out
there who hate your guts and would love the chance to do terrible
things to you. I fear for you, I really do, because I know you're a
good person and shouldn't have any of that happen to you. But the
courts have made it so easy for all of that and worse to happen to
you."

"This is not the sort of thing that should
happen to a woman like me," Eileen said, meaning not just a wealthy
white woman, which was true enough, but also a political
leader.

That was when Eileen began to imagine the
sinister black vans rolling back and forth down the road on the
other side of the windbreak, looking for her. It gave her
nightmares.

It was a long way from being the most
powerful woman on Earth, as she'd been called in several important
websites and bios when she was President. She was now in essence a
runaway slave hiding out in the fringes of the American
Southwest.

The intruders came in the wee hours of the
night. Armed with military-grade neural scramblers, they took out
the guards who patrolled the perimeter of the house, and the one
outside her bedroom. Dressed in black ninja-style suits, they
sneaked into her bedroom. The first she knew of them was when a
black-gloved hand shoved a huge wad of cloth down her mouth. That
was what woke her. A few wide strips of tape covered all of her
face from her nose to her chin.

She was ready to scream by this time, but it
was too late. Only a few very muffled mmphs got through the
gag.

Her hands were tied together behind her back,
her feet were tied together at the ankles and then a short length
of rope connected her hands to her ankles. Then a hood was pulled
over her head and that was the last she saw of her captors for
several hours as she was first carried about on the shoulders of
someone, then dumped in the back of a van with thick, heavy
carpeting on the floor.

MacCammon spent several hours riding in the
van, mmphing plaintively as a cold knot of terror grew in her
stomach. They could do anything to her. They proved that as someone
methodically and carefully cut her clothes away from her and
removed them, so that she was naked as well as bound, gagged and
blindfolded.

The worst part was the gag. It reeked of sex.
There were cloth parts, probably nylon, and a narrow elastic
band.

Someone's panties, she realized. Not her own.
They wouldn't have reeked of sex. These things tasted like someone
had spent hours masturbating while wearing them.

The thought made her sick, almost nauseous, a
dangerous condition under the circumstances.

The worst thing was, even if a police officer
stopped them, all they had to do was show that she had been
declared rightless by a judge and the cop would have to let them go
on with her naked and bound, clearly against her will.

It was the legal thing to do, where she was
concerned. Only her well-armed friends could save her now. Wherever
they were.

The vehicle she was in arrived somewhere.
Everyone piled out and left her tied up and naked within it for
several hours. One of her captors had put a small plastic bedpan in
her bound hands.

"If you have to pee, use this," said the
woman's voice. "Don't make a mess. You'll be punished if you make a
mess."

There was a certain glee in her voice as she
spoke. She wanted Eileen to be punished.

Hooded, gagged and hogtied, she had used the
bedpan. And she had not made a mess. So far as she knew.

What she did not know was whether or not
anyone watched her as she used the bedpan.

She had not been seen naked by anyone for
years. She was a very private woman. To be naked was bad enough.
But to be forced to use the bedpan while naked, and not to know if
she were watched or not, was horrible.

Not that her captors cared. Poisoned by the
patriarchy, to treat a woman so.

What really hurt was that the voices she had
heard when she was captured were all women's. How could women treat
another woman like this?

Some time after that she heard her captors
climb back in the van. The bedpan was removed and empty one placed
in her hands.

She was dreadfully thirsty, the panties
having sucked all the moisture out of her mouth, but no one offered
her any food or water. No one had to, short of starving her to
death.

Not that the thirst was her major concern, or
the overwhelming sex smell from the panties. It was the pain in her
muscles from being hogtied. She had never been tied in her life,
not even as a child. People had to be careful of her, she was
physically delicate, and now her delicacy was being destroyed by
the ropes that wound around and around her wrists and ankles in so
many bends.

She worked hard at getting them off, but it
was no use. Whoever had tied her had known what she was doing.

They drove on like that for hours, changing
vehicles several times. The pain lessened in intensity at times but
it also came back. It never really went away. She heard the people
moving around, but they never said much, and said nothing to
her.

She had to go to the bathroom again after
awhile, but it wasn't so intense, probably because she'd had
nothing to drink and nothing to chew on but some other woman's
sex-soaked panties.

At last they stopped somewhere and put her
somewhere beside another vehicle. It was an animal stall of some
kind, reeking of whatever kind of large beast had been there.

An even-toned female voice said, "I'm going
to take the tape off now and remove the panties. There will be
bowls of food and water on the floor that you can eat and drink
from. You'll have 20 minutes to eat it, after that it gets taken
away. Don't bother asking for more. Don't make any sound at all --
because the instant you do, just one word, or a scream or anything
-- the panties go back in your mouth, and stay there."

The voice did not ask if she understood,
instead, hands removed her hood, then roughly pulled the tape from
her face and pulled the panties from her mouth.

She spent a few moments retching and blinking
in the sudden light, then things adjusted and saw that she was in a
wooden stall, still hogtied. The floor was covered with straw and
the walls were made of rough-hewn wood. Beside her were two bowls
of the sort usually used to feed dogs.

Her captor, a woman in a black ninja suit who
was only identifiable as a woman because of the way certain parts
of her body stretched the suit, stood in the entranceway to the
stall, arms folded behind her back, feet wide apart, watching her
through mirrored sunglasses, a smile on her painted lips. Her chin
had a little sag to it, probably she was a porn actress released
from jail during the Great Reversal.

She did not want to eat -- what if they had
poisoned or drugged the food? But she knew she had to keep her
strength up. She would show them how a real woman stands up to
mistreatment. And later, she would see them all jailed again.
Because that was where THEY belonged.

If was totally humiliating, having to writhe
across the floor in order to get her head in position to drink. To
lie on her stomach with her arms behind her back and her feet
pulled upward toward her wrists, and lower her head to the dish,
first to drink, then to eat. She knew what she looked like, some
kind of domestic animal, feeding.

But she had to keep her strength up, and the
water was so good. The stew was surprisingly good, too. She licked
every drop of water out of the bowl and did the same with the stew,
then licked her lips.

She was lying on the floor resting when her
captor was approached by another woman. She was wearing nothing but
a big T-shirt that came down just over her crotch. No bra. She had
enormous breasts, a big mane of blond hair and beautiful tanned
legs. Probably a whore. She handed Eileen's guard a wad of pink
cloth. Eileen's guard took it then smelled it in a gingerly sort of
way.

"Whoa!" exclaimed the guard, pulling her head
back. "Funky!"

"Yeah, well, I spent an hour doing myself
with these things on, and at one point I pushed them right inside
me with a dildo," said the woman in a proud little voice. "That's
when I had my idea. I called James in and got him started with my
mouth, then told him he could fuck me if he could do it through the
panties. And you know, he could."

"I see," said Eileen's guard, grinning. "You
did a great job, Jenna. Want to do the honors on the bitch?"

"Love to," Jenna said. She walked over to the
wall and grabbed a roll of tape. Wide tape. Suddenly, Eileen knew
what was coming next.

"No, please," she whispered.

"No talking!" shouted the guard.

"Don't worry, I'll fix that," said Jenna. She
knelt beside Eileen and took her head in her hands and rolled
Eileen over on her back by slowly twisting her neck, forcing her to
wriggle onto her back.

Jenna anchored her palm on Eileen's forehead
and placed her other palm on Eileen's chin, with the panties still
gripped in her fingers. Eileen kept her mouth firmly closed -- she
simply would not volunteer for the indignity of having those
totally unsanitary panties wadded into her mouth.

She saw that the panties were thong style.
Figured. Respectable women didn't wear thongs, but the sluts
--those evil women who found men attractive and whom men found
attractive -- loved them.

Jenna had a simple response to her closed
mouth. She pinched Eileen's nostrils shut with two long, pink
fingers tipped with red, red fingernails, while keeping her palm
firmly in place on Eileen's forehead and holding her chin in place
wither other palm.

Eileen tried to wriggle and tried to escape,
but bound and held as she was, there wasn't much she could do, and
eventually she had to open her mouth to breath, which was when
Jenna moved quickly to place the panties in her mouth. Eileen kept
trying to open her mouth a little wider to suck in air, but every
time she did so, Jenna stuffed in more panty, until Eileen was on
the verge of blacking out and the panties were entirely in her
mouth.

Then and only then did Jenna release her grip
on Eileen's nostrils, and she was able to inhale deeply and fully.
She was too starved for air to mind the rich, cloying scene of male
and female sex that she brought into her lungs with every
inhalation. She responded with pure instinct, inhaling deeply to
get precious air into her lungs.

While Eileen recovered from her oxygen
starvation, Jenna held the panties in place with her hand until she
was able to slap a patch of tape over Eileen's mouth. Then she took
the tape and wrapped it entirely around Eileen's neck several
times, being careful to cover her mouth with the tape each time,
but not her nostrils.

When Jenna was through she smoothed the end
of the tape down very carefully, so that it didn't present any
surface that could be worked on and rubbed off eventually by a
bound woman desperate to get a pair of sex-soaked panties out of
her mouth.

Jenna sat there for a moment and admired her
handiwork while Eileen recovered from her loss of breath.
Recovering was almost as bad as losing one's breath, because she
became fully conscious for the first time of how truly sex-soaked
the panties in her mouth were. They had a rich, overwhelming,
cloying smell of sex. Worse yet, there were spots on them that were
cool and kinda slimy to Eileen's tongue and palate. God knows what
kind of disgusting male and female secretions were jammed into her
mouth on those panties. Eileen worked the panties with her tongue
and jaws, but they were truly lodged in her mouth, and the tape
around her face wouldn't budge.

She was stuck with these disgusting panties
and their foul secretions until her captors chose to remove them.
It was just the sort of disgusting thing she would expect the kind
of people who'd captured her to do. It was why they all belonged in
jail. Decent people didn't do such things.

"I think she's OK now," said Jenna. "She
really fought those panties -- it was so much fun putting them in.
Can I play with her for a while?"

"Sure, just stay in the limits we were told
about," said Eileen's guard. "If you go too far, playtime's
over."

"No problem," said Jenna. "I have an idea
that will be loads of fun but will cause her no injury at all."

"That'll be fine, then," said Eileen's
captor, and Eileen realized with a chill that they were talking
about the legal limits on what could be done with her, and her
guard had just said Jenna could do anything to her short of killing
or wounding her.

What was she in for?

"Did they tell you about the panties,
Eileen?" Jenna asked casually as she looked down at Eileen.

Eileen made no response. She had nothing to
say to this sadistic whore.

Jenna reached down and gave Eileen's labia a
sudden, painful pinch, causing Eileen's entire body to stiffen and
then writhe in pain while a surprised shriek was turned into a
muffled little whimper by her gag.

"Do I have your full attention now?" said
Jenna. "Nod if I do, if not I can give you another tweak."

Eileen nodded "yes" quickly. She did not want
to feel another tweak.

"Good," said Jenna, sniffing delicately at
her fingers. "You know, your pussy is just splurting with juice,
you must be enjoying this. I know I would, under other
circumstances, of course. I love playing pirate and slavegirl."

Eileen was horrified to hear her body
described in such terms. It was almost as bad as being naked and
bound and having her mouth stuffed with used panties, because it
was a public statement of what was happening to her. Eileen would
have preferred that it remain unstated, a sort of secret between
her and those who had done this to her. But her captors didn't have
any decency about such things --they'd DONE them to her in the
first place, why should they cavil about talking about what they'd
done in front of their victim?