Gangster Captive Ch 2

Chapter 2: The Surrender

Bart led Mae into the middle of living room, and told her kneel there. He left the noose of his makeshift leash around her neck. The loose end bumping against her breasts and dragging the floor as she moved reminded Mae of the way she would train a puppy. Bitterly she realized that was exactly what Bart was doing..., training her as his puppy. The gang members relaxed on the couches and chairs around the room. They were not bashful about staring at her.

After a few minutes, Bart tossed Mae a sofa cushion, with the instruction to, "...sit on this." Mae gratefully rolled her tailbone onto the soft pillow. Sitting up with her feet together, and her knees up in front of her, she could lock her arms around her shins to support her back. No sooner was she comfortable, however, than Bart corrected her. "No, no slut," he said harshly. "Spread your legs. Show us your pussy."

Jan blushed a vivid red, but as she was told. Rocking backward to support herself on her elbows, she parted her feet to widen her knees and expose her sex. Grateful as she was to be off her sore knees and the hard floor, she was humiliated to sit in a room full of men ogling her most private parts as if she was some kind of sex trophy.

"That God damned bastard," she thought to herself, "he won't even let me rest without shaming me."

Minutes passed, then an hour and more. Mae tried to rest herself by changing her position from sitting up to laying flat on her back. Trying follow Bart's order, she was careful to keep her legs spread as she moved the pillow up to support her head. Bart, however, again objected, and told her to return the pillow to her hips. As she lay back flat again, the pillow under her middle elevated her crotch and displayed her feminine slit even more prominently than when she had been sitting upright.

Even so, Mae found lying flat on her back more comfortable than sitting. Anyway, the novelty of a naked woman to stare at had begun to wear off. The gang had gradually switched to chatting among themselves, reading the paper, and surfing the TV channels looking for more news about themselves.

Mae was left alone to contemplate the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. For one thing, she was a little queasy from swallowing Bart's cum load. For another, it was unsettling to lay on the floor with her legs splayed, and a rope around her neck, as if she was captive female flesh offered for sale in some illicit middle eastern slave market. What made her really ill, however, was the realization that she had not only sucked this stranger's penis in front of her husband and daughter, she had finished her blow job with what could only be described as slutty enthusiasm.

What in the world had come over her? She hoped that her family would understand that she was only doing what had to be done if any of them were to stay alive. Surely they would forgive her for a little 'overacting.'

Was she simply 'overacting?' Mae herself was not so sure. When she first took Bart's penis in her mouth, she did so only because he threatened to rape her daughter. There could be no question about that much, but after that what? At the end, was she sucking him like a whore in heat. Why?

Her fear fully explained only why she was on her knees with his penis in her mouth in the first place. Fear could not entirely account for her later uncharacteristic passion for sucking cock, or why she was willing, even eager, to swallow its slimy product. She had certainly never before found anything erotic about giving a blow job. Indeed, all her married life she had avoided suck her own husband's penis whenever possible. Even on the rare occasions she condescended to do so, she had never once swallowed his marital load. .

This arrogant swaggering gangster was handsome enough but Mae was not attracted to him physically as much as she was psychologically. Why should there be an attraction of any kind? Surely to be stripped naked, then forced her knees and made suck dick, shouldn't turn a decent woman into a wanton tramp. But, it had! Mae had heard of women who were aroused by abuse. Was she one of those. Could she have been sexually submissive all along without being aware of it? Perhaps! There seemed to be nothing else that would explain this sudden urge to service Bart's prick with her mouth.

All Mae knew for certain was that sucking this awful stranger's cock had lit a fire in her pussy. It had been a passion unique to her experience. Nothing in her love making with her husband from her wedding night onward was even close to it in intensity. Moreover, out of that inexplicable lust had come a residual hunger that was still with her, as unabated and unsatisfied as it was unfamiliar.

Mae had always been a typically shy woman, reluctant to flaunt her body, or her sexuality, where anyone could see, even her husband. Now suddenly, everything was upside down, as she found herself sitting naked with her pussy on display before a roomful of men. She tried to ignore those leering looks, but she was painfully aware that they were enjoying her bare breasts, and peeking between her legs. "Merchandise in a whore house is what I am," she thought bitterly, yet at the same time she was titillated and aroused, knowing that this brazen display of her sex had all their cocks on the rise.

"They are all wondering," she said to herself, "what would it be like if I were to suck their cocks the same way I did for Bart."

Mae wondered about that too! She could see herself dragging the rope of her home made leash under her as she crawled from man to man, from penis to penis, swallowing semen. What she had done for Bart in front of these men disgusted her, but Mae could not make the thought of being forced into a gang bang blow job go away. To do it again for them all would be a thousand time worse, and yet.., and yet..., why was her pussy moist from just thinking about it.

"Good God," she asked herself, "how could I even think about such a degrading thing, let alone be stimulated by it?"

She was a married woman, decent and chaste. Why this unaccountable appetite for raw sex, this sudden schism in her moral standards? Could it be that pure in deed was not necessarily the same as pure at heart? Was she in fact not only a submissive female, but a born slut as well? Had this urge to worship a penis been there all along, only to be awakened when Bart insisted that she suck him off?

Mae remembered a favorite fantasy she had been enjoying since she was a teenager. In her day dream she saw herself as a young bride captured by Turkish raiders in an attack on a medieval town on the border between Christian Europe and the Islamic middle east. Alone in the shower, drifting in a dreamy reverie, she had often jerked herself off with a soapy finger while imagining the pillage of her home by cruel Muslim marauders.

As she stroked her clit under the warm water, Mae would fantasize that she was raped in front of her husband, and then taken away as a slave on a long journey to an Istanbul flesh market where women were bought and sold. A spice that burned like fire was rubbed on her nipples to give them color, and make them hard and erect. Naked, she was first paraded thru a leering jeering drunken crown where dirty hands grabbed at her breasts and ass. Next she was displayed standing with spread legs on auction block while prospective buyers inspected her charms, squeezing her tits and fingering in her pussy. Once the sale began, a noose from the ceiling was hung around her neck to make certain that she could not stoop or slouch. Thru it all, her arms were chained behind her back, and the auctioneer threatened that she would be severely whipped if she raised her eyes off the floor to look at the crowd or at any bidder. As he offered her for sale to the highest bidder, the auctioneer lashed at her legs with a limber cane to make her dance and her tits flop.

Her buyer turned out to be a professional slaver, a middleman merchant who bought attractive females for resale to his rich clients along the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers, and in Persia. In these far away lands there was a great demand for European women as harem concubines. Pretty blondes with big breasts like herself brought handsome prices there.

On the long journey deep into the land of the Prophet, her merchant owner diligently instructed his prize in the ancient skills of the houri (which, of course, was also his opportunity to enjoy the sexual favors of this beautiful young girl.) In Mae's fantasy she was ultimately sold into the seraglio of the Islamic Sultan of Baghdad. Her imagination had in time created a thousand and one nights of elaborate and erotic sub plots about the many ways the Sultan and his guests used her lovely body and enjoyed her sexual wiles for their pleasure.

Mae had been masturbating regularly since puberty, and this fantasy of sex and slavery never failed to help bring on soul shaking orgasms. Its plot, however, seemed a good deal less benign now. Suddenly, unexpectedly, she was a real captive, forcibly stripped and made to suck the cock of the victorious enemy chieftain while her husband watched. Perhaps it was not surprising that her response had been erotically identical to that of her make-believe servitude of so long ago.

As yet, however, there was one significant omission from this real life sexual nightmare. So far Bart had not tested Mae's pussy. She expected, however, that was only a matter of time before he demanded more of her than just a blow job. How would she react when Bart finally decided to fuck her? Of course it would be futile, perhaps even fatal, to refuse him. Even so, would it really be rape, or was some part of her now willing to spread her legs for his oversized penis? Nonsense, she thought. The man had brutalized her. How could it be that she might actually WANT such a man to rape her..., fuck her..., make love to her..., whatever?

Mae had always regarded the use of a woman's body to be a favor to be bestowed entirely at the woman's discretion and choice. From their wedding night, Jack had accepted as dogma that sex was his wife's option, and he had always allowed her to determine when, where, and how, they would make love. She had never seriously thought about rape, but now suddenly, sex by threat and force was something very much at hand. What would it be like? Could a decent woman actually enjoy being raped, and even orgasm on the cock that was abusing her?

Mae was uncertain of the answer generally or how other women might react. She recognized, however, that in her desperate circumstances, what other women thought or might do did not much matter..., so what about herself and Bart? To that specific non-hypothetical question, she was terribly afraid she knew the answer!

"Good God," she thought, "It's just that I am suddenly so horny. I came like a whore just hours ago when he only fucked my mouth. What chance do I have when his prick is deep inside me, rubbing up and down against my clit?"

Mae was still pondering that question when another outrageous thought flashed across her mind. What if her performance as his 'slut' failed please him? Bart must have a regular harem of sluts, this Karen woman among them. Would she measure up to these other women, these other sluts of his?

"What are you thinking," she asked herself, almost laughing aloud at such an absurd concern. She wasn't competing for this man's favors. Why should she care what Bart might think of her sexual skill? How could she possibly have entertained such a classically female response to a situation this bizarre?

"Damn him anyway," Mae thought. "I am being raped. Why should I care how I compare his pack of whores?"

But strangely enough, down deep she did care. Mae had been a virgin on her wedding night, and she had never been to bed with anyone but her husband since. Yet, every woman, virgin or otherwise, enjoys at least the thought, if not the reality, of having the attentions of a man sexually attracted to her. Even the most faithful of wives can not truthfully deny an occasionally fantasy in which she invites some smitten stranger to share her bed. True, whenever Bart finally fucked her, it wouldn't exactly be by invitation, but for some reason it was important to Mae that her body and her performance would please him at least as well as the that of his other sluts.

Could her pussy take all of him? Bart's cock was so much bigger than her husband's. Would size make a difference? What would it be like to be filled by so much male meat? After all, it might be painful to be stretched that way. Then she remembered how her friends who slept around talked dreamily of the big cocks that had fucked them. These women who should know about such things were all in agreement that bigger was better.

Mae recalled how Bart had boasted that once he fucked a woman, she would beg him to do her again. Could that really be true? Was being fucked by a big penis really so overwhelming? After experiencing Bart's big rod, would she too beg to be fucked again and again? It was hard for Mae to believe that she would ever plead for any man to pleasure her cunt, even one with an oversized penis.

"Shame upon me," Mae thought, again trying to bring her mind back to reality. "I must be a whore at heart. Only a slut of the first order would dwell upon having sex with a rapist."

Well, Mae couldn't help herself. She was dwelling upon it, thinking long and hard about it (inwardly smiling as she realized the pun she had just made). What WOULD it be like when Bart finally slid his oversized penis into her vagina?

Along with that key question came a scandalous mental image of Bart on his back with a naked woman standing astride his hips. Bart is holding his huge rigid penis in his hand, aiming it upward directly at the love spot between the woman's legs. Mae can not make out the woman's face. Is it herself? She can't tell.

The pictures in Mae's mind roll on. The unknown woman's knees begin to bend, allowing her body to gradually sink toward that tempting cock. Finally she is there, and feels the first touch of him against her pussy! She shudders with delight, and her hands reach between her legs to guide him ever so carefully into her hot and aching slit.

The hips of this woman drop another inch, and the big round head of Bart's hard-on pries her pussy lips apart and lodges itself there. Her thighs give way still further, and her wet pussy swallows more of the delicious pole that has been waiting under her. She gasps for breath, overcome by the sensation, as inch by inch Bart's blood filled male meat splits open her feminine core, and stretches her cunt with a delightful hurt.

Then, after what seems to Mae an eternity, the woman is all the way down, completely impaled and at Bart's mercy. His hard hands reach up to grip dangling breasts. Strong fingers squeeze the soft tit flesh, and twist and tease the tender nipples, until the woman whimpers and moans with pain and pleasure. Mae's own nubs begin to ache in sympathy with the suffering woman so full of cock. Mae herself has never had sex of such intensity, but she can imagine how pangs of excruciating desire must be running from those tortured breasts down into her cunt, and thence on to ovaries hungry to be washed with male seed.

Could sex with a man really be like that Mae wondered? Surely it would be more than she could stand to sit impaled on a huge penis with a man to mauling her breasts that way. Even the thought of so much cock inside her is enough to make the tissues of Mae's cunt begin to spasm. Decent woman or not, rape or not, if sex with Bart was anything like that, Mae decides that she would of course orgasm. No doubt about it. She would not be able to help herself.

Despite that conclusion, however, Mae was still tortured by her conscience . "God help me, this just can not be. What is wrong with me? Why do I even think about such things? I am a wife and mother. I am not a slut, no matter what this bastard made me say. I must not think and act like one. This man has my husband and child tied to chairs in my bedroom. I can not take as my lover a man who uses my darling daughter as a hostage to force me to suck him off. I must fight back somehow. God willing, all this will be over soon and things will be normal again."

It was a futile speech. Even as Mae told herself that she must resist the evil Bart, a wave of doubt washed over her. What would happen if she did try to deny him? He would likely rape her anyway, and her daughter as well, before he killed them all. That was a given. There was simply nothing to be gained from resistance.

What good was a conscience in this situation? Moral choice was simply irrelevant. It made no difference one way or the other whether she WANTED him to fuck her. This bastard was going to do it to her anyway. If she was in heat when he did, and orgasmed on his cock, wasn't that all to the good? What was the old saying, "If rape is inevitable, lay back and enjoy it?"

It was all too ambiguous for Mae to deal with. She hated Bart, hated him with all her heart, but the events of this morning had been an epiphany to her. All her life, without even being aware of it, she must have wanted a man who would own her, a stern and demanding proprietor of her body who would take her, and fuck her, not by her consent, but as his right. And now..., and now, under severe duress, fate had made her the property of just such a man.

Mae shook her head in a desperate effort to clear her mind of all this disgusting eroticism and uncertainty. She could see Bart was watching her closely, his brow knitted as if he was trying to read her thoughts.

"God No," she said to herself, "Please dear God, don't let him find out that I may actually be the slut he wants me to be!"

But Bart already knew. Women had always been open books to him. He was certain that inside this prim housewife was a volcano of sexual desire ready to bust out if given half a chance. The name "slut" still stung when he made her say it, but he could see that like any trapped animal, Mae was gradually adjusting to her cage. Indeed, he was pleased with how quickly she was learning to submit to his will. She was, he was certain, teetering on the edge total surrender, almost ready to acknowledge him as her owner and master, almost ready to beg him for his cock.

It came as a relief to Mae when at length Bart looked away, and turning towards Karen, told her to see what she could find to feed everybody. Karen asked if she could take Mae with her to help. Bart, already again engrossed with the television paid no attention to the question and seemed not to care.

Mae assumed from by Bart's indifference to Karen's question that she was to go to the kitchen with Karen. As she stood up to follow the pretty red headed out of the room, however, Bart seized upon this opportunity to further train his new slut. Unexpectedly he sprang to his feet, and grabbing Mae by the shoulders, he forced her to her knees.

"You forgot to ask my permission to stand up slut. You don't do anything without my permission. Don't ever forget that. Now, ask!"

Mae gave him a puzzled look. "I thought I was supposed to go...", Mae started to argue, but she was interrupted by a savage slap across her face.

The force of Bart's blow knocked her sprawling. Mae started to cry, her face numb and red. Bart stooped over her and twisted her left nipple with thumb and forefinger of one hand. With the other he grabbed a fist full of the hair on the back of her head and used it to snatch her back onto her knees. Mae whimpered in pain from the abuse of her breast as Bart stood over her, malignant and oppressive, and snarling at her angrily.

"We can do this my way, or your way, but my way will be a lot more pleasant for both of us. You will do as I say, when I say. Nothing more and nothing less..., and never dare argue with me about anything. Is that understood?"