The Diary Of Insanity - Part 1

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Thursday 16th May 1991

11:14 pm

Fuck. I'm in deep shit.

If I don't go to jail I'll eat my kettle. I bloody well

deserve it.

I just drugged and raped a girl. Yeah, I know, no sweat

right?

But I panicked. I went too far. And how's she doing now?

How the hell should I know? She's out cold and tied up

in my basement.

Okay. Deep breaths. Slow it down.

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Thursday 16th May 1991

11:29 pm

Right. I needed a cup of tea.

I have no idea why I'm writing this down. I can only

assume its the drinks inside me. Oh yes, and the vodka

I've been knocking back pretty much since walking through

the front door.

Criminals always seem to be caught when they write their

plans down. Am I really fucking doing this?

Fuck it, maybe I deserve to be caught. And this is too

big a burden to bare. I have to offload it.

I went out for a drink this evening. Didn't plan much

exciting stuff. Just a few pints with an old friend who

happened to be in town.

I took a train to Clapham, then went on the underground

to Balham. Met him at a pub called 'The Regent'. Nice

place, good atmosphere.

We had a few drinks. A few too many, actually. Got to

talking about the old days.

See, I've known this guy from school. He's one of my

oldest friends, give or take a few other guys. But I've

lost contact with them, whilst I've been seeing him

regularly for years now.

His name's Lee Orton. And he's fairly fucked up. In fact

I could blame him for tonight. But no, I've wanted it to

happen, and now it has. I've gotta deal, I guess.

You may wonder what's so fucked up about him? Well you

wouldn't notice anything out of the ordinary if you met

him. He's quite like me, really. Twenty seven years old,

trying to build some sort of career. But he looks nothing

like me.

He's tall, black, and muscular. He has a strong jawline,

and neat facial hair that blends perfectly into his bald

head. Dark brown eyes, set deep in his face, give him an

imposing and calculating look. But he makes up for that

with a hearty laugh and a good sense of humour. Often the

life and soul at parties, I feel honoured to be a good

friend of his.

But I digress.

He's fucked up. I don't know his past in its entirety,

but I think he's raped more than one woman. Its unnerving

to think, but I can't judge him. Not when I've always

thought about the crime with a certain sense of longing.

And especially not after tonight. Oh no, I can never judge

anyone again after this.

We left the pub at about nine. He's got work in the

morning, I had a train journey. So we said our goodbyes

and headed our separate ways.

It was an uneventful journey. The underground was quiet

on a Thursday night, and I saw no one at Clapham Junction

when I passed through it. It was eerie, I even had to get

my ticket from a machine.

I thought I was alone on the train, right up until when

we were approaching Salisbury. The rear carriages were

detaching so I got up and walked, albeit slightly

unsteadily, to the front carriage. Only one other person

sat in there. An attractive young woman.

I sat myself opposite her at the table, and she smiled

pleasantly. Something about the smile looked.. off. She

looked slightly scared.

When she looked back down at her book, I glanced at her

for longer.

She looked to be in her late teens. So maybe woman isn't

the best word. Maybe she is really a 'girl'? I dunno,

does it matter? Get it together, man.

She looked to be in her late teens, probably around

eighteen or nineteen. Long blonde hair, swept back in a

wavy flourish, adorned her head. She had a pretty face,

with nice full lips and blue eyes. Looking down, I could

tell even through her oversized lumberjack shirt that

she had a good pair of tits. And I remembered admiring

her legs as I saw them from the aisle. She was wearing

tight leggings, that showed off her slender figure.

All in all, she was a hottie. And one that got me quite

flustered very quickly.

I've never been able to shake off that old nervous

feeling I get around cute girls. Been feeling it since

puberty, and every day after that. I'm sure it'll never

go away entirely.

The tannoy called out that we were about to arrive in

Salisbury, and we both looked up and registered it.

I watched her start to pack things up.

She was getting off the train with me.

Then she did something that sealed her fate.

She got up, took a sip from her bottle of water, then

walked off, evidently to find the toilet just before we

arrived. When she was gone, my mind went into overdrive.

Lee hadn't left before giving me a little gift.

You see, both Lee and I have always drooled over the

idea of drugged rape. I know how that sounds. Yeah,

psychopath a bit? Well, it is. But hey, we all have our

kinks. Our's just happens to be a bit extreme.

Lee told me he's working on it. And just before we left

he passed me something under the table.

A little bottle of Rohypnol.

Roofies, Ruffles, The Date Rape drug, whatever you want

to call it. It was in my pocket. And the possibilities

were endless.

So here I sit, with a cute girl about to get off the

train at the same place as me. And she's gone to the

toilet leaving her water alone and unprotected.

In a normal state of mind I wouldn't dream of it. The

risks were huge.

But I was still feeling the effects of drinking with

Lee. And this was a brilliant opportunity, probably

the best I'd get in a while.

I whipped the bottle out of my pocket, and unscrewed

the lid. She would only be gone for a minute. It was

now or never.

I nervously remembered him saying something about..

a few drops.. fifteen to twenty minutes.. it was all

a blur. But if something had gone wrong, I could have

legged it. She'll forget everything anyhow?

I unscrewed the lid, and squeezed several drops of the

drug into her water. After closing it again and shaking

it for a few moments, I placed her water back down on

the table and stowed away my Rohypnol. All was well.

She returned moments later, to see me twiddling my

thumbs. I hoped I didn't look too nervous.

I was sweating as she sat. 'Please, God, make her drink'

I thought.

She did.

Thank God for helping me rape, I guess? I'll ask for

his forgiveness in the morning.

She drained the last dregs of her water and at the

same time, unbeknownst to her, she dosed up on roofies.

The plan I had hastily put together was put into action.

The train took a couple more minutes to arrive in

Salisbury. I kept glancing at her. She was showing no

signs of anything happening yet. That was good, the

last thing I needed was for her to go down on the train.

I followed her out onto the platform and through the

building. All of that took a few more minutes. I thought

I saw her pace slow as we walked, but that could have

just been wishful thinking. She seemed unconcerned that

I was tailing her all the way to the carpark. But hey,

my car was indeed there too. It wasn't so far fetch'd.

She was definitely feeling something. She stopped by

what was evidently her car, and fumbled around in her

bag for keys. A couple of times she let out a slurred

curse and ran a hand through her long blonde hair.

I went and stood by a car two down from her's. It wasn't

mine, but that didn't matter. She was nearly gone.

She managed to get her door open, and sat down in the

driving seat. Now was my time to interfere, before she

drove off and killed someone.

I walked over to where she sat and knocked on the window.

She wound it down and gave me a groggy stare.

"Whut?" she asked, a definite slur detectable in her

question.

"Um, high" I said to her. "Do you mind if I borrow your

phone? I just need to call my brother, he's in hospital."

I was hoping to call on her sympathy with the bit about

the hospital. Heck, I don't even have a brother.

She nodded, and reached into her bag. It took a few

moments for her to find the phone, and when she handed

it too me she leant way too far in her seat. I could

see beads of sweat forming on her brow.

I took the phone and pretended to dial, all the while

keeping an eye on her. She had sat back in her seat, and

was staring vacantly at the windscreen.

I gave up on dialing then, and just stood there waiting

for a couple more minutes. She was definitely fucked up

now, slipping lower and lower into her seat. I put her

phone in my pocket, and returned to where she sat.

"Come on, open the door" I said in a soothing voice.

She offered no objections, and clumsily fumbled for the

door handle. After uncatching it, I pulled open the door

and bent low over her. I took her bag, and her keys out

of the car. Then gently lifted her out onto the tarmac

of the road.

Slamming the door shut, and awkwardly locking it with the

keys, I began a very nerve racking journey back to my

car. It was a couple of rows away, and at any point

someone could arrive and see the scene I was presenting.

But evidently god was smiling on me that night. No one

came out of the dark, and I was soon at my car.

I opened the back door and threw her and her bag over

the seats. She was like a ragdoll by now, floppy and

unresponsive. A trail of drool was seeping out of her

mouth, and her eyes were unseeing as they stared into

the rear footwell. The sight would have horrified most

people. But it made me hard as a rock.

I got into the car and pulled away, anxious to put

miles between me and the scene of the crime. We drove

out of Salisbury, in the direction of my house. When

we were several villages away, I took a sharp left turn

into a country lane that I knew no one ever took. It

lead to no where.

I pulled over onto a flat area of grass verge, and turned

the engine off. The silence was grim and forboding, a

sign of what was to come. She had no idea what she was

in for, the amount of sick things I had a chance to try

out. Repressed sexual urges that I had fought for years,

would all now be unleashed on this poor little girl.

I took her bag and removed her purse. Happily pocketing

her cash, which counted up to two hundred pounds, I took

a look at her driving license.

Her name was Katie Wells, and she was actually only

seventeen. Her birthday was on August the 4th, roughly

three months time. Taking a look at a school card I

found, I learnt she was from an expensive public school.

Posh bitch.

I threw the bag onto the passenger seat, and climbed

into the back. She was petite, and only took up half of

the back of the car the way she was lying. That left me

free to explore her oblivious body with my shaking

hands.

I reached out and planted a grip on her leg. She did not

respond in the slightest, and with that encouragement I

became bolder. I rubbed the hand further up her calf,

then made my way around her leg to slide up her inner

thigh. I couldn't bare it. The leggings had to go.

Roughly I grasped them and pulled them down her legs.

They revealed her beautiful lower half to my gaze, and

I started salivating there and then. Her plimsolls came

off in a flash, as did her socks and leggings. There

she was, dressed in only her shirt, bra and cute little

panties. All would come off eventually.

I leant low over her, breathing in her scent. She was

bathed in sweat, evidently a side effect, but that only

made me hungrier for her as I stared at her glistening

figure. I tentatively began to unbutton her shirt, my

eyes almost popping in anticipation.

Don't get me wrong. I do have sex, this isn't a story of

some sex deprived maniac letting it loose after years of

abstinence. No, I have regular sex. This was a release

of many years worth of pent up urges, and desires to do

and try some seriously fucked up things.

Her shirt fell away to confirm my judgement. She had a

healthy pair of boobs on her, which I guessed to be

larger than a c cup. I left her like that, because I

found the look incredibly sexy.

Sitting her up in the seat, I pulled my rock hard cock

out from my jeans. After getting him even harder with a

few good tugs, I clambered over to her side and placed

the head of my dick up to her lips.

She was far too gone to cooperate. So I helped her with

her task.

Taking her cheeks in my hands I pushed until an opening

formed in her lips, then I shoved forward with my

crotch and buried myself in her mouth. It was a glorious

feeling, to have my manhood in a girls mouth again. I

have always been very partial to blowjobs. And with this

little minx, in her state, I could do a lot of things

consenting partners would never allow.

I immediately began to fuck her hard, pummeling my cock

in and out of her mouth. Her lips were closed on it, and

she made cute sucking noises as it intruded into her jaws

time after time. I grabbed the back of her head by her

hair and forced yet more cock into her, working the head

into her open and unprotected throat.

Unconscious as she was, she had little to no gag reflex,

and I had no trouble slamming my entire length into her

throat. There I sat, beginning to suffocate her. Always

a dream of mine. Choking out a girl on my cock.

One of the few things I am really proud of about myself

is that I am well endowed. It took a while to realise

it, but after enough girlfriends told me I was something

of a 'stallion', I got the message. In any case, my nine

inch cock makes a lot of men jealous and a lot of women

cry. Sucks to be them, right?

Katie was taking it like a pro. Or, at least, she seemed

to be. I have no idea, really, and neither did she.

I withdrew my cock from her mouth, and allowed her own

saliva mixed with my precum to drip onto her beautiful

face. It was a glorious sight.

Her mouth was done. I remember thinking 'Time to deal

with her pussy'.

I reached behind me and shunted the passenger seat

forward out of the way, then slid her down until her

waist was at the edge of the seat. I pulled off her

panties in one fluid motion, then examined the beauty

underneath.

She was shaved clean, to my delight, and her pink lips

were tight and unspoiled. Either she was a virgin, or

she had fucked very rarely. It didn't matter to me. She

was going to be one pleasant fuck.

I lined her up, not caring to be gentle, and rammed home

my full length. Even as heavily drugged as she was, she

visibly winced when I started to jackhammer into her with

all the force I could muster.

For several minutes I slid in and out of her. It didn't

matter that the position was uncomfortable and she was

as cooperative as a limp fish, the nature of the act was

enough to keep me so riled up I could barely comprehend

what was happening.

After what seemed like hours to me, but I think was only

about ten minutes, I could feel my body tensing. My

breath came in short gasps, as I felt myself begin to

spasm. I pulled out of her and shot my seed in long

white ribbons all over her slowly rising and falling

chest. It was heaven, to see her there covered in my

cum yet oblivious to all. I nearly had a shotgun orgasm

it turned me on so much.

But I was quickly coming down. And with that, came the

realisation. The dawning reality of what I had done, and

the magnitude of the consequences I faced.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

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Friday 17th May 1991

12:54 am

Yeah. More vodka was needed. And I tell myself I'm not an

alcoholic.

As I just passed the door to the basement I listened in.

Still no sound. Not that I expected any. She'll be out

for a few more hours.

Anyway, after I had a little panic attack in the car, I

started doing some serious thinking, while trying not

to pull tufts of hair out at the same time.

Morals told me to leave her by the road to be found in

the morning and taken to hospital. That's as far as my

morals stretch, I'm afraid.

Logic told me to take her to the nearby stream and

drown her. Cover all traces, the chances of her being

found would be minimal.

Lust told me to fuck her again. At several points in

the internal battle fought inside my head, lust was

winning. But eventually I came up with a fourth option.

One that appealed to me on all of those levels.

Take her to my house.

I live in a large country house that I inherited from

my parents when they died. The mortgage is entirely

paid off, and it isn't expensive to live in. It doesn't

matter that it's in the middle of nowhere, I work from

home as a writer.

But what's important is two things. One, I live alone

and with very few visitors. And two, there is a large

system of cellars under the house.

Two things happened to the house. Whoever built it

certainly loved wine, because they built extensive

wine cellars under the main building. And then fifty

years ago, a paranoid owner had the basement floor

greatly expanded to make room for underground living

quarters. These served as a sort of bomb shelter during

World War II. They have since fallen into disrepair,

and some of it is even inaccessible. There is a stair

case leading down to a second floor of basement, but

the door is bolted shut and I have no idea what's down

there. Not too keen to find out either. My grandfather's

stories made sure of that.

Keep on topic, man.

So anyway, I decided to bring her back here. It changes

the crime from just 'rape' to 'rape and abduction' so

that's bad. But I'm confident I can keep her hidden here.

At least until the fun ends and I find a way to get rid

of her.

_________________

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Friday 17th May 1991

4:05 am

Just went and listened at the door to the basement. She's

crying now. I think I'd better go down there, and see

what's up.

If she somehow overpowers me.... well, I deserve anything

she does to me I guess. Alright, lets do this.

_________________

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Friday 17th May 1991

04:27 am

Wow. Just got back up from the cellar. That was.. wow.

I'm not sure words can describe how cool it is to have

a girl tied up crying in your basement. Try it some day,

is all I can say.

When I first got down there and turned the lights on, I

thought for a moment she had gotten free of her bonds.

That gave me a nasty fright.

But then I realised she had just wriggled her way to one

of the far walls, and was huddled against it sobbing

uncontrollably. What a baby.

When she saw me her eyes widened and she cried out. Oh

dear, I thought. She's not pleased to see me.

I walked over to her and watched as she shrank away as

best she could, bound as she was. I've secured thick

ropes tightly around her wrists and ankles. That seems

enough to hold her, at least until I think of something

better.

I knelt next to her, and adopted a calm voice.

"Wakey wakey, Katie" I taunted. "Rise and shine."

I wanted to sound a bit mad. It would keep her afraid,

and stop her from trying to reason with me. I couldn't

be bothered to deal with pleading.

"How are you feeling?" I asked quietly, focusing on

keeping a slightly crazed look in my eyes.

"Wha.. Ho... Just.. Just get away from me!" she screamed

at me. I was impressed she was still trying to fight me.

But, vulnerable as she was, she still bore a look of

absolute terror.

I smiled. "Sorry. I don't want you to feel frightened.

That's up to you."

She glared at me, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Let

me go! Let me out of here, you fucker! I'll kill you

when I get out!"

"No" I said simply, shaking my head. "You're stuck here,

Katie. So get used to this cellar."

She didn't seem to hear me, and continued twisting and

screaming at me. It was quite boring to listen to, but

I let her go on. She would only tire herself out, and I

couldn't care less how she felt.

However, after over a minute of continued screaming, I

got impatient.

"Shut it, girl!" I told her firmly.

No response.

"Hey! Katie! Shut the fuck up!"

This time she definitely heard me. She looked at me for

an instant, then spat angrily and continued trying to

writhe free of her bonds.

I unthreaded my belt from my trousers, and got to my

feet. "I warned you, bitch! This is what you get if you

don't obey me."

And with that, I began raining blows onto the girl's

bare legs. She screamed out in pain, trying to cover up

somehow. But she had no hope. She was at my mercy, until

I got tired of the beating.

"This will end when you shut.. the fuck.. up!" I yelled

at her, placing a blow on her thigh with each of the

last four words.

The volume of her cries died down, but I knew it was

only from pain and not a conscious decision by her. So

the belt continued lashing down, flaying her legs and

chest. I could see red marks rising up all over her, as

the leather strap struck her hard and true.

"Shut up!" I commanded her. "You Bitch!"

That time, at last, she heard me. She broke down into

tortured sobs, and started shaking back and forth where

she lay. The job was done. I took my belt in my hand,

and turned to leave.

"Try and get some sleep, bitch. You'll need it."

My statement sent a flash of fear through her blotchy

red eyes, but only for a moment before they closed and

she continued bawling onto the floor.

As I ascended the stairs, I heard her start screaming

again.

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Friday 17th May 1991

07:41 am

I haven't slept a bit. And I'm only just sobering up. It

was a long night, to say the least.

I've done a lot of thinking between going down to see her

and now. It's difficult to know what to do in this

situation. There's nowhere to go for help, no one to ask

and no book to read. It's all up to me.

Memories keep flashing through my head. Memories of long

erotic stories about sex slaves, that I used to read

from dirty magazines in my university years.

Could I keep Katie as a slave?

_________________

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Friday 17th May 1991

09:19 am

I'm decided. I am going to keep Katie, and train her as

a sex slave. I've had to convince myself that I'll be

able to use the same stories I read as 'tutorials' on

what to do. I'm just lucky I read them lots of times, I

guess.

It could be expensive, and finance is an issue. This

isn't something you can generally request a loan for.

'Hey, sorry, would you mind funding my slave project?'

No, I'll have to think of something else. I could ask

for a better contract from my publishers. But I'm on

thin ice with them anyway.

I got lucky after university with my writing. One of

my great college friends, Harry, got a job at a

publishing company pretty much immediately. After

a healthy mix of sucking up to him and his boss, I

managed to secure a strong contract with them. But

recently they've been complaining about my work, and

saying that its too similar to older pieces.

So I think asking them for a steeper contract isn't

the best thing to do.

Perhaps there is something..

_________________

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Friday 17th May 1991

09:44 am

After a couple of quick calls, I think I've discovered

how to make a bit of money.

It terrifies me. But its certainly better than the shitty

fiction I've been writing all these years.

The slave trade.

It turns out, what Lee had been eluding to when he talked

about 'working on' something, was bargaining with a guy

he knew to buy a slave girl. The guy was a representer

of a respected trader, apparently, and he looked for

people interested in buying from him. So I've discovered

that the slave trade still exists.

It's a tiny market, with high demands and not very many

suppliers. Hence, slaves are very highly priced. And by

selling them I could make a fuck tonne of money.

I could also go to jail for life. But hey, what's the

point of living without a little risk?

First things first, though. Katie.

_________________

_________________

Friday 17th May 1991

04:05 pm

What a day. I've started work on Katie. And boy, is she

one loud mouthed bitch.

After a quick breakfast, I went back down to see her at

about ten o'clock. I took with me a backpack filled with

all sorts of useful tools. Things I would need to keep

her secure without always being bound. The last thing I

wanted was for my slave to be covered in rope burns.

Once again, when I opened the door, I found her laying up

against the wall sobbing. Did she ever sleep?

As I began laying objects down on the floor, I could see

her out of the corner of my eye. She was crawling ever so

slowly towards the open door. But all it took was a kick

behind me with my booted foot to slam the door shut with

a loud bass note. She flinched, and I noticed a single

tear slide down her cheek.

When I was ready, I untied her ankles and helped her to

her feet. She walked tenderly, her legs sore from their

tight bondage during the previous night. I lead her

through a couple of doorways, to the living quarters

I wrote about. I'm lucky, one of the intact rooms is the

bathroom. That makes things a lot less messy.

The room adjacent to the bathroom was once a living

room of sorts. But all that's in there now is a lumpy

sofa and a disconnected television. Maybe if she's good

I'll connect it up sometime. I see it as important that

slaves have rewards to work towards. Otherwise the sheer

hopelessness of the situation could drive her insane.

Throwing her down on the sofa, I rebound her legs and

left her there while I went to get a few things. When I

re-entered the living room, she was exactly where I had

left her. Her eyes never left me. I remembered reading

about this phase in the stories. The 'biding her time'

phase. She's waiting for the opportune moment. But she

won't get it. And when she realises that, we'll be onto

stage three of her cycle down into slavery.

I bolted a long chain onto one of the uncovered girders

that ran across the roof. After swinging on it for a

moment to make sure it held even my weight, it was time

for her collar. This wasn't a fetish of mine, I don't

like kinky black leather and costumes. No, it was only

for convenience.

I fixed the collar around her neck, and padlocked it

shut with the chain in place. Now she was trapped, with

a lot of hassle between her and escape.

After I untied all of her bindings she curled up into

a ball onto the sofa, and started weeping in earnest.

Maybe that was stage three? Despair?

"Use the bathroom. Wash, cry, do whatever the heck you

want to do" I told her, with a hint of boredom in my

voice. Purposefully placed, of course. "I'll be down

with some lunch for us later. And we'll have a bit of

fun while we're dining."

She looked up at me and gulped. Evidently the idea of

'lunch' with me didn't do wonders for her appetite.

Hehe, she'd be eating something either way. That much

I was sure of.

I turned and left her there, making my way out of the

room and up the basement stairs. I had work to do.

I spent the time between then performing a few jobs.

First, I took a bus to Salisbury and went back to the

carpark. I needed to dispose of her car. The less

evidence there was of her the better. So I got in

with her keys and steered out down the series of

ramps, onto the streets of Salisbury. It occurred to

me that if I was stopped, I was fucked. I wasn't

'insured' on her car, and the game was up if that

fact came to light. But I was lucky. A quiet Friday

was just what I needed, and just what I got.

I drove out of the city and back towards my home. I

had decided that the safest thing to do was to keep

her car for the time being, until I could think of

a good way of disposing it. I think I'll ask Lee if

he knows a crusher this evening.

Next I got in my own car and set off for the stores

in my nearest town. The essentials were some more

clothes for her, some cheap food. More drink, just

because I loved the idea of getting her wasted. I

also got a couple of small security cameras. It

will be difficult, but I think I can wire them up

so as to get twenty four hour sight of what she's

up to.

When I had stocked up, I quickly returned home and

unloaded the car. It was lunch time. And lunch was

going to be awesome.

It was.

I prepared some simple sandwiches, and a jug of

lemonade, then carried them down to her with two

glasses. I left her to eat and drink, whilst I

headed back up and outside to do one last thing.

In the old stables, I found a black leather

harness. And exactly what I needed was right

there waiting for me.

A part of the harness consists of an o shaped ring

with three straps coming off it at odd angles. On

a harness it was mundane. But removed, which I

proceeded to do in due course, it was a ring gag.

I went back downstairs after spending a couple of

minutes preparing it. Katie had finished several

sandwiches, showing that she did indeed have an

appetite. She held a glass of lemonade in her left

hand, her face adorned with a vacant expression.

I sat down next to her on the sofa, and poured a

glass for myself.

She spoke abruptly.

"Please, um, Mr. Please let me go. I promise we'll

pay anything. The police won't be involved, I... I

just want.. um..."

She faltered at the look on my face. I was staring

bluntly, contemplating her words. So evidently

stage four was bargaining?

I chuckled. "There is no reasoning with your

master, Katie" I told her flatly. "In fact, it is

a punishable offense to beg, unless you are told

otherwise."

She swallowed. Katie wasn't stupid. She knew she'd

gone too far.

"So I have no choice, bitch. Get on your knees."

I was free wheeling. Making up rules as I went

along. But I was careful with them. I would be

upholding these rules as long as I kept a slave in

this basement. So they had to be sensible.

Katie didn't move.

"Listen to me carefully, whore. Every time you

disobey an order, something bad will happen. Now

I was thinking about getting this television here

connected up. But that can change quickly..."

She still just stared at me. Lee had warned me

this could happen, especially with a girl so

young and from such a privileged background. She

isn't able to cope with what's going on. So her

brain just shuts down, and she enters a state of

complete paralyzing panic.

"Katie? Are you disobeying me? On your knees."

She was still as a statue. But now her breathing

was accelerating, and her eyes were growing wider

than before. Perhaps the situation was finally

dawning on her?

"You're walking a thin line, bitch. Down on the

floor, now."

It was then that she snapped out of her paralysis.

She jumped up and dropped to her knees, her breath

shaky and her eyes wide as dinner plates.

I pulled the ring gag out of my pocket and started

fastening it around her head. She cried out and

tried to fight me, earning a slap to the face.

After fixing on the gag, I kept a hand on her shoulder

as I began unfastening my belt. This served a duel

purpose. As I started to pull down my trousers, I could

see the tempting target that was her back. Clasping the

belt in a firm grip, I slid it along her spine causing

her to flinch.

"Lean forward, and suck me off" I told her.

She had frozen again. But I was confident she'd break

out quicker this time.

With a casual flick of the wrist, I sent the belt into

her back with a crash. She wailed, and jerked as the

spasms of pain overtook her. She didn't wait to be told

again, and lurched forward to slip my waiting cock into

her gaping mouth.

I sighed, pleased to have my pulsing dick back inside a

girl's mouth. Dropping the belt on the sofa, I took her

head in my hands and began pumping in and out of her lips

with ever increasing speed. She gagged and gurgled, as

any girl would under the onslaught my particularly large

cock presented her, but had no way of stopping me.

I gave an unusually rough shove, and felt the head of my

cock slip into her throat. She gargled and choked, her

neck jerking back. But my hands stopped her and my cock

remained lodged in her throat. I raised my head and let

out a long groan, experiencing the incredible feeling of

her body desperately swallowing, trying to clear her

airway. But to know avail, all it succeeded in doing

was working the tip of my cock as good as any pair of

hands could. I could feel myself beginning to edge, and

I could feel her struggles becoming more panicked and

frantic. So I withdrew from her throat and watched as

she collapsed backwards, gasping for air and spluttering

out globules of saliva. She gave several loud coughs,

before rising up again and looking at me in disgust.

"Whhghy aghh ough gouighng ishhg?" she forced out around

the ring gag, tears pouring down her cheeks.

I chuckled. "I don't much like the sound of your voice,

Katie."

And with that I plunged my quivering cock back into her

throat in one long motion. Her eyes shot wide open, as

the hacking and sucking noises from her neck resumed. It

was evidently horrible for her. But it was heavenly for

me. I pushed deeper, forcing the entire length of my

pulsing member into her esophagus. She couldn't breathe,

couldn't see with my belly in her face, couldn't smell

with her nose mashed against my crotch, and she couldn't

hear with my hands covering her ears. Total sensory

deprivation, so all she knew was the pain of my cock

viciously throat fucking her into oblivion.

When I was satisfied that she had learned a valuable

lesson, I ceased prolonging the inevitable and fired off

a large portion of my cum into her by now gaping throat.

She swallowed it up quickly, working to have her airway

clear again. I unhitched myself from her jaws and stood

back, watching with contentment as she spluttered back

into the real world.

Her eyes were wide and staring, as reality and clarity

came back to her. I had to force myself not to laugh too

hard as she glanced around in confusion. Perhaps she

passed out a little while I fucked her? Who knows.

I pulled off the ring gag and dropped it casually onto

the sofa. By now she was staring back up at me, horror

and fear emanating from her. When I spoke, she visibly

flinched and shied away.

"So. Katie. Did you learn your lesson?"

She gulped, and nodded slowly.

"Yes?" I asked loudly.

"Y.. yes" she whispered softly.

"Tell me you learnt your lesson" I commanded.

"I learnt my.."

"Wrong!" I shouted. I picked up the belt and lashed it

against her open belly. She cried out in pain, jerking

backwards away from the belt. I continued, "A slave never

refers to themselves in the first person. You will say

'this slave' learnt 'her' lesson. Yes? Now tell me."

I watched as the concept washed over her, and she

shuddered in discomfort.

"This slave learnt her lesson" she whimpered.

"Master?" I stated loudly.

"This slave learnt her lesson, Master."

I turned away, contented, and walked around the sofa.

When it was between Katie and me, I commanded "Get up

here, bitch."

She was evidently getting better at obeying, barely

hesitating before rising to her feet and kneeling on the

sofa. I stood before her, keeping my face level with

her's. She winced as my gaze raked over her shaking

features.

"You're going to spend the next couple of hours alone

down her, girl. And I want you to spend them thinking

hard. How do you want to live the rest of your life?

Because how you act as a slave can greatly affect that.

Do you want to be sold to some immensely wealthy buyer,

a dictator perhaps, and live in a palace with all your

desires provided for? Or do you want to be sold to a

backstreet pornographer to be killed in a snuff film?

Your call, bitch."

With that, I turned and began to leave. "Use the toilet.

Or just curl up on the sofa and cry. I don't care."

As I walked upstairs I heard her begin to, yes, cry.

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