President Slave Girl: The Homouth -- Book 1 of the President Slave Girl series (4 page)

What had been done to her!

The women in the room sat quietly, gleefully
drinking in her horror and fear. They had all been hurt, and hurt
badly by this woman who had judged them with such disdain.

She collapsed into a sobbing mess, her head
bowed, tears running freely from her eyes, rude slucking sounds the
substitute for sobs.

None of the women in the room moved to
comfort her. They had all had the experience of standing in a
courtroom shackled like animals, or seeing their loved ones
shackled like animals, to be hauled off to cages and mistreated for
months and in some cases years, for nothing more than having
different sexual values than this woman. They were all naturally
warm and friendly people. If they had not been so badly treated
they would have been horrified at the sight of Eileen's suffering,
but as things stood there was a certain amount of glee in the
room.

And the ones who felt the most glee were the
ones who'd stood helplessly and watched their loved ones hauled off
by guards. They were the ones who hated her the most.

Some women had forgiven Eileen and the Church
and all who'd stood with them in the persecution of sexuality. But
the women in this room had not. They needed a kind of catharsis.
They were getting it.

"It's called a homouth, derived from
ho'mouth, or whoremouth," said Bright. "Many of those of us in this
room have had them installed voluntarily, for sexual reasons. We
paid money to have ours installed, and it wasn't cheap until just a
couple of years ago."

The woman whom Eileen knew as Jenna suddenly
loomed in front of Eileen's face, putting her face a scant 30
centimeters from Eileen's. Jenna had a homouth, too. Her lips were
vertical, puffy and moist They writhed obscenely, the inner labia
wiggling inside the outer as Jenna moved her jaw. Her eyes were
knowing, smiling almost, but with a hard edge to them. They seemed
to say, "I know what this thing on my face can do, and you're going
to know, too."

"Of course, we who paid can control the
homouth's appearances," said Bright. And as Eileen watched, Jenna's
face writhed even more obscenely than it had, then slowly, over the
course of five minutes or so, returned to the state of a normal
woman's mouth.

Eileen suddenly remembered hearing about
these things as a horrible new underground perversion ushered in by
the explosive successes of biomedical research when the
Chang-Honnenfeld process had rendered nanotech feasible, along with
more useful adaptations, like gills. They were cited as proof that
the war against degenerate sex was not over.

This thing was reversible, it was not grafted
onto her face for the rest of her life!

That realization helped a lot.

"You can't control it though," said Bright.
"We've got programmable nanotech in there that have set off a
series of conditions in your body. Your breasts are going to get
larger, much larger. Your hips will widen, your waist will narrow.
You're going to become physically very attractive.

"We're not going to tell you what conditions
will make you horny," Bright continued. "Let's just say that there
are a lot of triggers in our program -- a lot of them. And just to
add to the fun, you can be turned on by one of these garage door
openers. Any opener that's tuned to your frequency and pressed in
your presence will trigger horniness in you -- and we're putting
the combination that works for you on a lot of Internet sites."

"Three things are going to happen when you
enter the early stages of sexual arousal. One, your mouth will
become a homouth. Two, your nipple will swell to the size of
marshmallows, and they'll be firm enough to make noticeable bumps
in whatever you're wearing, short of body armor -- just as they are
now. Look down, Eileen."

Eileen looked down, and saw that it was true
-- her breasts now sported nipples that bulged obscenely from their
tips. They were like cartoon nipples, big and pink like
candies.

"Third, both your homouth and your pussy will
become swollen, turn bright pink, and lubricate heavily," said
Bright. "What's more, the lubricant you produce will have a strong,
pungent, musky odor -- the odor of female arousal -- that will be
wafted into the air through aromatics that will also be produced by
your nanoset. You're filling the room right now, Eileen," Bright
said, waving her hand in front of her nose and eliciting gales of
laughter. "Every time you get horny, you're going to fill the room
with the smell of sex, and that smell will be unmistakably linked
to you, thanks to your homouth, your nipples, and the moaning
you'll do when you're horny, another little gift from us to
you."

"Now, we are sure that you will do nothing to
enjoy the sexual gifts that we're giving you, being who you are,"
said Bright. "But the nanoset's going to help you with that, too,
Eileen. Because you can't change from your homouth back to your
regular mouth at will, Eileen. Once your homouth has made its
appearance, it will go away only if two conditions are filled. One,
you have to be bound. Specifically, your hands have to be tied
behind your back, to ropes or chains around your waist, ropes
or chains on your ankles, or to some immovable object. Your nanoset
has been programmed with a group of acceptable ties by one of our
bondage fans -- don't worry, there's quite a large number of ties
listed. Two, you have to be fucked, either in your mouth, your
pussy or your ass. Which one? That'll vary, Eileen. You'll just
have to guess. But you will be glad to know that while your homouth
is present, your gag reflex will be entirely suppressed. Your lover
can bang away at you without fear, no matter which hole he or she
is using."

Eileen stared blankly at Bright and her
fellow tormentors, who for the most part were grinning at her. They
were enjoying themselves immensely. Why should they not? They had
all had prominent and promising careers and she'd put the whole lot
of them in jail.

"That's all there is," said Bright. "We're
going to keep you here for the next few days for observation, and
we'll keep feeding you nanos. Do you want to know how we got them
in you already? They were in those soiled panties we've been
gagging you with! They just migrated right through your soft
tissues to where they needed to be. Isn't technology wonderful?
We'll keep that up, I think everybody in the room has a pair they'd
like to contribute to the cause."

More laughter.

Eileen closed her eyes, suddenly remembering
those cool damp spots in the panties and the way they'd seemed to
wriggle in her mouth. The nanosets.

"When we're through testing, and we're sure
the nanoes have taken, we'll take you back to your ranch and
release you," said Bright. "I'm sure the first thing you and the
Church will do is try to deactivate our nanos. Have your techies
look very carefully at what we've done, first. We number among our
lovers and fans some of the finest programmers and nanotechies on
Earth, and they've rigged a few fail-safes to make sure the nanos
stay active until your sentence is served."

"Now, the sentencing phase is over," said
Bright. "It's playtime!"

The room erupted in cheering. Eileen's guards
untied her quickly, then seized her arms and dragged her to a table
in the center of the room, where they tied her spreadeagled to its
top. The women surged from the audience to surround her. They
completely surrounded the table, and their hands were everywhere,
everywhere, laughing and joking and mocking her and probing
her...

She fought the evil women as hard as she
could, but they were everywhere, all around her. Their hands went
everywhere, to places she would never have put her hand, and
twisted and tickled and slapped and pinched and poked and pulled
and stroked and rubbed and she was helpless, helpless against
them.

She had tried kicking with her legs, but they
simply pulled her legs apart and wrapped leather cuffs around them
at the ankle, and suddenly she was displayed as she was on an
ob-gyn table.

They said horrible, nasty, revolting things
about her body even as they probed and pried at it. They laughed at
her while tears streamed down her face. She tried to cry out, but
only disgusting slucking sounds would issue from the thing her
mouth had become. She cried and her sobs were just more slucking
sounds.

Worst of all, some of the women put their
hands in her homouth, and probed and prodded the soft tissues
there, and she could smell her own arousal on their fingers as they
did. Of course, there were fingers Down There, in both places Down
There, and on her nipples, and her thighs, and on every part of
her.

Soon she felt her body responding with waves
of overwhelming pleasure to the fingers inside her and on her, and
despite the fact that she hated hated hated the women who were
doing this thing to her, her back began to arch and her legs began
to convulse, and she cried out into the sea of glittering eyes and
pneumatic breasts above her, sent forth loud disgusting noises
around the fingers that filled her homouth because she was coming
coming they were making her come and they hated her and did not
love her but they knew her body knew it and controlled it and when
she came it was like the orgasms had been pulled out of her by the
hands all around her.

Amazingly, they did not stop when she came,
though she splorted a thick stream of liquid from her face
that oozed down her chin and puddled in the hollow formed by her
clavicle. They just kept touching her and mocking her and probing
her and soon she was being overwhelmed by feelings again. And she
realized that they were taking turns using her, that there were
that many women here who wanted to hurt her in this way.

She did not understand. Her whole Presidency
had been about protecting women. She had been women's savior, their
friend, their rescuer from the vile, immoral corruption that
society had become. Some few hundreds of thousands, of women had
been put in jail for their deep immorality. Some few millions had
lost husbands or fathers to her jails as well. But she could not
believe such creatures could love their family and friends the way
decent women like herself did.

Why had they done it? Why had the people and
the courts let her be taken by these, her enemies, to be used so
cruelly? She had done hard things, difficult things, some would say
cruel things, but her goal had always been the protection and
advancement of women. Surely they could see that. Surely ... oh
god. One of them had put her whole fist up Eileen's ass. She cried
out in surprise and pain and they all cheered to hear the startled
sluck that came out of her homouth.

This went on for some time she could not
determine. Hours, at least. Perhaps a day. She became exhausted and
could not resist them any longer, and not even the firmest slap or
the most excruciating pinch in the most excruciating place would
get a response from her.

So they dragged her to her cell, and chained
her to the floor spreadeagled, and hosed her off, and then let her
sleep, for she passed out as soon as the water stopped hitting
her.

The next day, things got worse.

She woke up feeling strangely happy, then she
remembered where she was, as she took in the fact of her nakedness,
the bonds that encircled her wrists and ankles. Of course she had
been happy, in dreaming she had forgotten what had been done to
her. Worse yet, on remembering, all the shame and humiliation and
anger came back, all the feelings that had welled inside her as she
lay helpless and sexually abused by the angry women who had been
her prisoners once. And the lust, worst of all, the lust, welling
up inside her, overwhelming her, just as her mother had told her it
would if she gave in to it. Her mother had been absolutely right,
even though nanocytes were not in common use at the time.

Now she lay naked and displayed and waited
for her captors to again do with her as they would. She was
unutterably depressed. If you could die from losing the will to
live, she would have died then and there, for she had utterly lost
it. Her nether regions still ached from the abuse they had suffered
the previous day. Women had put their whole hands in her and
wiggled them around.

What had she done to deserve this? She had
been taught to go out and do her best in the world, to follow the
highest dictates of her conscience, and she had done that, and now
the world had thanked her for it by leaving her naked and chained
in a stall like an animal, raped and abused. She had fought to keep
women free from the exigencies of male sexuality, and to tell the
truth, from female sexuality too, though of course she'd never
admitted to THAT. That would have been a huge mistake, easily
avoided by simply lying about her intentions to all but her closest
friends. The feminist-conservative alliance is what had propelled
her into power, and the feminists would never have sat for anything
that smacked of attacking women, however slutty and vile they might
be.

Tears coursed down her face anew as she
considered the depths to which she had fallen. She had always kept
herself chaste and pure, even within her marriage. She had two
children, both of whom had renounced her later in life, but they'd
loved her well enough as kids. Once she'd stopped having kids,
she'd stopped having sex with her husband Tom, who had in his manly
fashion respected her wishes, as a good man should.

She had been very proud of him until the day
she found his stash of pornographic magazines and videos. She'd
looked at them briefly, but they were so disgusting that she could
not bear to watch for more than a few minutes.

Horrified, she did some more investigating,
and had found the pornographic images on Tom's computer, hidden in
an innocuous-looking folder. Then she'd found the credit card
receipt from the strip club. She'd looked it up on her computer and
seen its Internet site and seen the sort of women who danced there
and how they were dressed when they danced, and a furious fire
began to grow within her, the fire that had eventually led her to
become President of the United States. Of course, many people would
say she was truly ushered into power by the Second Crash of the
2000s, which had made the crash of 2007 look like a growth spurt.
With unemployment in double digits and moving fast toward Great
Depression numbers, her message that the Second Crash has been
caused by moral decay had been well received, though cynics claimed
that ANYONE other than the President whose tenure had included the
Second Crash could have been elected. But it had been her that had
been elected, and the economists and  policy wonks who claimed
it was all about automation and unfettered economic speculation by
the investment banks bed damned.