President Slave Girl: The Homouth -- Book 1 of the President Slave Girl series Read Online Free

by the rounded masses of flesh that were
her butt cheeks. Once again, Eileen found herself writhing
helplessly, her body straining against the bonds that held her, her
head straining against the muscles that held it.
    She could not breathe, and now it was not her
will that was being tested, Jenna was just torturing her. Time and
again she would bring Eileen right to the point of passing out from
lack of oxygen, then allow her a quick, slucking intake of breath
from a nose only half buried in one of Jenna's nether regions. Then
Jenna would press down again, and begin the game anew, keeping
Eileen just conscious enough to writhe and wriggle beneath her.
    Combined with the pain as Jenna pulled
Eileen's hair as if she were some kind of doll that could not feel
pain, it was excruciating. Eileen lost track of time as she lay
there writhing in the ropes, her only consciousness being of the
need for air, the feel of fleshy weight pressing relentless against
her face.
    At last there came a time when Eileen was
breathing regularly again, able to think about something beside the
struggle to breathe.
    Then she heard the words "The is for
Annette," and the struggle for air began again.
    Another long interregnum of struggle against
unyielding ropes and relentless muscle. Then a return to
consciousness of a sort.
    Then the words, "This is for Mark," and the
struggle began again.
    "All right, Jenna, get off her," said a
distant voice. "Get off her. You've made her wet herself."
    "So I have," Jenna said in vaguely
self-satisfied tones.
    Jenna climbed off Eileen's face regretfully.
She had thoroughly enjoyed torturing Eileen. She cold have spent
the whole night playing with her helpless captive. Having someone
completely at your mercy, to whom you had absolutely no reason to
show mercy, and every reason to despise, was fun.
    But Jenna was glad she had not killed or
seriously injured Eileen. Doing so would have put her on Eileen's
level, a person who ruined people's lives. She didn't want to be
like that.
    Eileen's captor pulled her to a corner of the
stall and laid down fresh straw where she'd peed, to keep the smell
down. Then she disappeared for a moment, and came back with a
garden hose in her hand. She hosed down Eileen, also to keep the
smell down. Eileen was the one who supposed to be smelling body
fluids, not her guard.
    As Eileen slowly returned to a normal state
of mind, she found a new thought in her head. The guard at the
front of her stall wasn't there to keep her from escaping -- Eileen
wasn't going anywhere, bound as she was. The guard was there to
protect Eileen from other people. People like Jenna.
    Eileen began to cry softly into her gag again
at this realization. Some of it was self pity, and some of it was
fear, and some of it was that things were simply too awful to do
anything but cry about.
    Around midnight the shift was over and a new
guard came in to replace the old one.
    The old guard did not leave immediately,
however. She had watched Jenna tormenting Eileen. It had looked
like fun. And although she herself had not spent time in prison,
her husband had -- that was why she was here.
    So she walked into the stall and casually
pulled off her shoes and socks and pants and panties. Thong
panties. then she rolled Eileen over onto her back, waking her from
the light sleep she had been in.
    She did not tell Eileen why she was torturing
her. She just enjoyed the sound of Eileen's sobs as she straddled
her, then enjoyed watching her body writhe in abject helplessness
as the torture began anew.
    The next morning, Eileen was roused by
another blast from the garden hose. She felt miserable. She had
slept badly. The hogtie had kept her from any kind of physical
comfort, and the torture had given her nightmares.
    The strangest thing was that her throat felt
strangely constricted and -- active. There were ticklings and pangs
and all sorts of things going on in her mouth and throat.
    Still, she was able to eat from the bowl of
mush and