153 lines
8.3 KiB
Plaintext
153 lines
8.3 KiB
Plaintext
Laurel's Ordeal
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===============
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Laurel jumped to her knees as soon as she heard Takashiru's
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Mazda sportscar pulling into the garage. Hastily she spread her
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thighs, sat on her heels, jutted out her breasts, pressed her chin
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on her chest and clasped her chained hands behind her neck. If her
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master found anything less than perfect in the required position of
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submission and disgrace when he came to her, the punishment would
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be severe. A number of cigarette burns around her nipples testified
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to this.
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She was kneeling on the wooden floor of the back porch,
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completely naked, save for her leather collar and the wide leather
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cuffs on her wrists and ankles. A long silver-toned chain, jingling
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and shining in the summer sun, attached her collar to a corner post
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of the porch. Next to her sat a pair of plastic dog pans, one
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containing a few crackers and chunks of celery and carrot, the
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other holding some water. Her name was written in red paint on the
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side of both pans.
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She took a few deep breaths and quietly prepared herself for
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the routine afternoon beating. Over the past week this had
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developed into a kind of daily ritual, so that Takashiru could
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release the tensions from work by mercilessly abusing his
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slavegirl's naked body. On a normal day, Laurel knew, he would
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storm into the porch within seconds after arriving home, dropping
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his expensive suit, tie and Italian shoes all the way from the
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garage to the back door.
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But things were different today. More than ten minutes after
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Laurel heard the garage door close, her master still had not come
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out. Instead, she heard footsteps running up and down the stairs,
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and a girl's cheerful giggles and exaggerated screams filling the
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house, interrupted now and then by Takashiru's roaring laughters.
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He had told Laurel this morning that he would bring his
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girlfriend over after work. Apparently he had kept his words.
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A few more minutes passed. Just when Laurel was beginning to
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wonder whether she would be spared of the routine torment today,
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the glass door slid open, and a girl's bare legs bounced into her
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sight.
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"Ha! I found her!" the girl shouted gleefully. "Come here
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quick, Takashiru; she's waiting for you!"
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Keeping her head down, Laurel stole a glance at the girl from
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the corners of her eyes. She was a petite oriental girl with a cute
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round face, about the same age as Laurel, clad in nothing but a
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white cotton shirt. The open front of the shirt seductively
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revealed much more than it hid.
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Takashiru emerged from the house, wearing only his boxer
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shorts.
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"All right, Sumiko, you win," he mocked a sigh. "There goes my
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last little secret. Anyway, I hope you like my new slavegirl. Her
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name is Laurel, by the way. Aren't you happy to see me, Laurel?"
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The kneeling slavegirl knew exactly what was expected. Without
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a word, she walked up to him on her knees, and bent down to kiss
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him on both feet.
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"Good girl," Takashiru patted Laurel on her blond head, "now
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show your respect to the lady."
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Obediently, Laurel turned to Sumiko, and pressed her lips
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lightly on each of the girl's bare feet.
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"Oh how sweet!" Sumiko exclaimed. Leaning on Takashiru's
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shoulder, she lifted Laurel's chin with her toes. "And pretty, too.
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Where did you find her, Takashiru?"
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"At the state college; where else can you find beautiful young
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chicks who would work for peanuts? The state just raised the fees
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by thirty percent this year, and these girls are getting desperate
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for cash. For a few thousand bucks, they'll do anything for you."
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"Anything, huh?"
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"Yeah. Watch this."
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Takashiru detached the chain from Laurel's collar, and kicked
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a slipper into the back yard.
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"Go get it, Laurel!" he yelled.
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After spending a week with Takashiru, such degrading treatment
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had become quite natural for Laurel. She jumped from the porch on
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all fours, and crawled to the target as fast as the chains between
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her wrists and ankles allowed. But before she was half way across
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the lawn, a large German Shepherd suddenly darted out from the
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house and raced towards the slipper. Startled and petrified, Laurel
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watched with wide eyes as the dog picked up the slipper between its
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teeth, ran back to Sumiko and dropped it by her feet.
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Takashiru and Sumiko almost choked in laughter. When Laurel
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crawled back to the porch in total humiliation, Sumiko commented
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breathlessly: "Well, Takashiru, looks like I've got a better puppy
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dog than yours."
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The German Shepherd, meanwhile, was getting rather restless.
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It circled around Laurel several times, and then trotted towards
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Sumiko to rub its thick fur on her legs, growling in its throat and
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looking up pleadingly at her face.
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Sumiko immediately realized the dog's intention. Her face
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blushed slightly, looking rather embarrassed. "No, Morgan!" she
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slapped the dog lightly on the head. "No way! No! Sit! Sit, Morgan!
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Bad boy! Bad bad boy!"
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"What's with Morgan?" Takashiru looked at his girlfriend, and
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then at her dog, curiously.
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"My brother spoiled him too much," Sumiko giggled. "There was
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this hooker that my brother used to bring home all the time, a
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blonde like this girl. And my brother used to let Morgan...you
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know, when mating season came."
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Stars of evil began to twinkle in Takashiru's dark eyes. With
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a wide grin he murmured: "Hm... Now that's not a bad idea."
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The chains jingled, and Takashiru turned to find the nude
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slavegirl curled up in a corner of the porch. Shaking slightly, she
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crossed her hands in front of her chest, and pulled her legs up
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against her belly.
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"Hey, watch it, slave!" Takashiru wielded his fist in Laurel's
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face. "You are not keeping your position!"
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"Please...don't..." Laurel pleaded in a small, trembling
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voice.
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"Don't what?"
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"The dog...please, master..."
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"Well, when you agreed to be my sex slave, I did tell you I'd
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let my friends fuck you, didn't I?"
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"But...not a dog! You never said anything about a dog!" Laurel
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was almost in tears.
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"So what? See, Sumiko is my girlfriend, right? Morgan is her
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dog, right? So Morgan is also a friend of mine, isn't he?"
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Takashiru grinned triumphantly, apparently quite proud of his
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quick-wit logic.
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Knowing the futility of arguing with him, Laurel simply hugged
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herself more tightly, and shook her head: "No."
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"OK, then." Takashiru waved a hand in the air, as if throwing
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off the idea. "Like I said before, you have the right to call this
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whole thing off any time. If that's what you want, just stand up
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and say it. You are free to leave, and the deal is off."
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Watching Laurel blinking her eyes in hesitation, he added with
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an wicked smile: "But remember, Laurel, if you leave now, don't
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expect me to pay you a penny."
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Laurel bit on her lip and wrestled hard with herself. This was
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not the first time she had been confronted with the question. She
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had had to force herself against the impulse to leave on the very
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first night with Takashiru when, after a long and harsh whipping,
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he chained her in the porch and made clear she was to stay there
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for the whole summer, day and night. She had made the same
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difficult choice when Takashiru lent her to a neighbor's kids for
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an afternoon of "horsy-back riding." This time, once again, the
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realistic concerns of her financial needs won over what was left of
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her sense of dignity.
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Quietly, she returned to the kneeling position, and kissed her
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master on the feet.
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"Now that's my slavegirl!" Takashiru planted a loud kiss on
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her bare back, and then slapped her on the butt. "OK, sweet cunt,
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go get ready for the show. Move it!"
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Fighting back her tears, Laurel positioned herself on all
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fours in the center of the porch. Immediately, the German Shepherd
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trotted up and started rubbed itself on different parts of her
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body, growling loudly and happily.
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Goosebumps appeared all over Laurel's skin.
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Takashiru sat down in a swing-chair a few feet from the
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mismatched pair, and pulled Sumiko towards him: "Come sit here,
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dear. It's -- show time!"
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Letting her shirt slide down her shoulders and drop to the
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floor, the oriental girl bent down to press a soft kiss on her
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lover's cheek,
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"Their show," she asked in a seductive voice, "or ours?"
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