Chapter 35: Rita Abuses Bill (Part 1)

This must be a nightmare. I can't believe this is happening to me. Poor Jane. If they're doing things like this to me, what can they be doing to her?

There was no clock in the room, so he didn't know what time it was, but he'd awakened, and heard some stir through the wall behind him; he knew that the adjoining room was the bedroom of Rita and George. He, like Ed, was growing accustomed to fitfully sleeping while standing-or rather, while hanging, for each of them eventually and invariably slumped, allowing the chain to partially support them. At least the collars were wide enough not to choke.

Every morning it was the same for him. Both his wrists and Ed Ericson's were kept handcuffed behind their backs, as high as their shoulder blades by chains to their collars. Each one's legs were held separated by a spreader bar, convenient for the Fiend, when she decided that the wearer of the bar required discipline. Bill shuddered mentally when he recalled some of those punishments. Before arriving up here, he'd have never imagined that a woman could do the things that Rita had done to him to force his obedience. Eventually he realized that she had no compunctions at all.

On entering their room, which was nominally a Workout Room, George took them first into the bathroom to use the toilet. Then he shaved them. He watched, while they performed their other ablutions on each other. Each awkwardly washed the other by holding a sponge between his teeth.

Then, George re-chained Ed in the position where he was now, standing in the Workout Room, held to one small area by a chain that connected one of the links in his handcuffs to a ceiling hook. Bill was beside him, in his 'place' as well, but he wouldn't be for long.

The door opened, and George entered. George, pot-bellied, and with smooth brown hair that revealed only a few gray strands, was about forty-five. Neither Bill nor Ed knew whether George and Rita were married, but what was evident to them both was that Rita was in charge. She treated George as her gofer.

Bill knew what was coming.

At least George closes the Workout Room door. If I thought that Ed would see what they do to me in here, I'd jump through that window first. That woman is a monster! Ed calls her 'The Bitch', but she's been easy on him: he doesn't know her.

'Fiend' was the term that Bill used to himself. For some reason he, rather than Ed, had borne the brunt of her sadism. When Ed spoke without permission, even when he swore at her, she merely threatened him, saying, "Your turn will come."

George, gripping him by the upper arm, led him into the living room area. The room, like the few others in the suite that Bill had seen, was large and rich, with its deep gold carpeting and its lavish furnishings, including its padded arm chairs, cocktail and lamp tables, and two sofas. The far wall was virtually all glass, through which Bill could see the canopy of trees that topped the jungle which they had passed through after leaving the ship.

The paintings were obscene, and Bill avoided looking at them.

When they were in the center of the room, Bill lay prone on the carpet on his back. The position hurt his arms, but he hardly noticed the physical discomfort, so concerned that he was about what was to follow.

George crossed the room to the armchair in which he usually sat. Bill paid no attention to him, knowing that George's actions would repeat those of the previous days. He would have undone the sash of his bathrobe, opened it wide, and seated himself. Then, aroused by his anticipation of what the Fiend termed, 'this morning's festivities', he would grasp his already erect penis, and begin to lightly pump it. It was incomprehensible to Bill, that what filled him with revulsion could be arousing to his two captors.

These people are incredibly perverted!

Rita's toy mallet was undoubtedly lying beside George on one of the chair's padded arms, but Rita wouldn't need it this morning. She had applied it enough during Bill's first days of 'training'. He knew the consequences of disobedience and she would have no cause to use it today.

He was already in position when Rita exited the bedroom. Although sometimes she wore a skirt (without panties under it), she liked to display her big tits, so she never wore anything above her waist. This morning she was entirely naked, and her brown bush was so full that it covered her genitals almost like a bikini. Although overweight, the woman didn't have a bad body, but the erotic thoughts that Bill might have developed on first seeing her naked were moribund, dispelled by his knowledge of what was in store for him.

Ed, kept in the 'Workout Room' ever since Rita had bought the two of them, was frequently discomfited by spontaneous erections. It was understandable. With their hands bound by cuffs behind their shoulder blades, it was impossible for either of them to jerk off. Each of them had gone for more than a week without being able to manually touch his genitals.

If the Fiend ever works on you Ed, like she has on me, your problem will disappear pretty fucking fast!

At the thought, a brief smile crossed his countenance.

His thoughts were interrupted by Rita, who put her feet to each side of his waist, straddling his naked body. Looking down at him, she noticed his smile and, probably thinking that it was the sight of her naked body that made him smile, she smiled in response.

"You'll be pleased, Billy," she told him; "to hear that I've been holding myself for you. I didn't use the bathroom even once last night."

He shuddered. Nevertheless, he forced himself to smile up at her. "That's great, Mistress. I-I'm really r-ready."

She half leaned over him, dangling her breasts over his eyes. Then she knelt, straddling his waist. She reached back with a hand, and Bill felt her fingers grasp his penis. She pouted. "You don't act like it, Billy. Are you fibbing?"

His heart began to pound.

Oh god! If she guesses that I'm lying, she'll use the mallet; but if I tell her the truth, that will make her mad, and she'll use it then, too.

"No, I swear, Mistress. Uh it's uh, my nuts. You know; they're kind of sore; just a little."

"They still hurt? I haven't used the mallet for days, Billy. You've been so good!"

"I-I know. I don't know why they are, Mistress Rita."

"Well," she said, smiling down at him; "you'll get hard when I give you your treat."

He tried to say 'Yeah'. Revulsion, however, constricted his throat, and all that he managed was an undecipherable gagging sound and a nod.

She moved forward on her knees and squatted over his head. A moment later her pudenda pressed down upon his face, and the velvety texture of her inner labia touched his tongue as they protruded between his parted lips into his mouth. It felt as though all of Rita's weight was upon his face. A moment later a flood of urine rushed into his mouth.

His mouth was suddenly full. Bill gulped as fast as he could. One week ago, the first time she had done it, he had been unprepared. The shock had paralyzed him, and he had been unable to swallow. His mouth overfilled, and fluid ran over his face and into her carpet.

For that, she whipped him. While he was naked on his knees trying to lick clean her damp carpet without the support of his hands, bound as they were behind his back, she whipped him with a cat-o-nine tails. He fell numerous times, face down, onto the carpet. Her blows seemed aimed frighteningly low down on his buttocks, accidentally he initially supposed. Not that he cared that they painfully scored his thighs. Sometimes, one of the low swings of the lash went between his thighs and one of its metal-tipped strands struck one of the sensitive objects there. Whenever it did, Rita laughed exuberantly.

Bill gulped and tried not to gag. He prayed that the flood would soon end.

"Ah!" Rita finally exclaimed. The heavy weight of her thighs on his face subsided slightly. "What delicious relief!" She moved forward and back, wiping herself on his face.

He was able to breathe again, but his mouth tasted of salt. His nostrils were wet and reeked with the odor of urine.

Rita raised herself further until her pudenda were above his head. Looking up, he saw her gazing down at him from between her projecting breasts. She reached down, and he again felt her fingers run through his blonde hair.

"Do a good job, Billy," she ordered, smiling. Bill thrust out his tongue. Carefully, he began to clean her vulva. She watched him, running her fingers through his blonde hair.

Suddenly her eyes closed; and she grimaced, gritting her teeth as if in pain. She exclaimed, "Oh! That's good, Billy-Keep licking, right there!"

His heart sank, but he obeyed. He felt her clitoris grow. He was afraid of what would come next. It had happened the previous day.

"Billy, I-I want to come in your mouth again," she said, smiling down at him, her face outlined between those pendulous knockers. Would you like that?"

'Coming' she called it. More pissing was what he called it. Yesterday it hadn't tasted like urine; so he didn't know what it was, but he still dreaded it. Anyway, what did it matter? He had to do what she wanted, or she'd use the mallet.

He forced a smile, even though her cunt was over his mouth, and she couldn't possibly see it. "Oh, yes, Mistress!" he exclaimed.

They were as they'd been the previous day. Rita was lying back in the deep recliner, her legs spread. Her thighs were on the two arms of the chair with her calves and bare feet dangling over its sides.

Bill was kneeling precariously on the projecting foot of the recliner, balancing himself on his knees. His head was between her thighs, and he moved his tongue from side to side, very lightly as she ordered him to, over the swollen ridge, forcing himself not to retch. She wanted to 'come in his mouth' again.

Yesterday when he'd followed her directions, he had no idea what she was talking about, but he had lowered his head like she told him to. He had only to move his head down a couple of inches, but, without the use of his hands to support himself, it had been a fiasco.