Land Of Rape And Honey 2/3

[Sickman]

She was tied again in the canoe and within minutes they were headed off across a lake. Then they landed on rock and started climbing up a fairly steep hill. After the hill, they walked mostly in shade. Mosquitoes and flies took full advantage of the defenseless flesh in the canoe, while Liane listened to the men batting the things away.

Eventually one of them asked if they could let her walk now, and they agreed it would probably be OK. So they let her up, untied her hands. They slathered themselves with bug repellent not offering her any. One wanted to piss so she squatted before him, his human toilet, taking the opportunity to release her own urine.

"Ah, I think she should ask permission before going pee-pee." said one, so it was decided she should.

They redistributed their loads and put the empty canoe on her bare shoulders. She had never carried a canoe before, but managed it, at first. But after five minutes, her shoulders and arms were on fire, she was sweating like a roasting chicken, and she had half a dozen mosquitoes drinking their fill from her. She managed to free a hand to swat at one, only to be freaked on by Stark, the scarred, crazy looking one, for hurting a poor mosquito.

"Mosquitoes are your friends, hole. Understand? You ever hurt another one of your friends and I'll break your fuckin' arm, hole."

She trudged on in misery, her bare feet picking their way along the cool muddy path.

They left the trail and hiked up a long rocky ridge, then through some blueberry bushes that hurt her feet even more and scraped her legs, and then down into a fairly deep little ravine through a snarl of some kind of prickly bramble.

They had stopped and took the canoe off of her. They where in a humid valley in deep hardwood forest. A creek a few feet across burbled near them. She was quickly enveloped in a light cloud of mosquitoes.

But now what? They had all set about setting up camp, so she just stood, waiting for her next instruction. The mosquitoes were fierce. And they were everywhere. And unable to brush them off, she could only stand, her entire body clenched, trying to find the willpower to just watch them drink their fill. At any one time she might have a dozen of them on her! Even on her face! For a while she counted five on her right breast alone! She danced a little, trying to shake them off, but they were determined to suck her dry. God, this was utter torture. Her tears started again, this time in frustration.

One of men came over to her, the good-looking one, took her by the hand and led her fifty feet into the woods.

He turned to her and she watched as he slowly formed a tight fist, drew it back, and then pounded it into her stomach! She fell to the ground winded and he pushed her over with his boot and then held her head to the ground with his foot.

"Why? Why are you such a useless cunt?"

"I don't...", no, that's not what he wanted to hear. "Because.... because I am a ... stupid fuck-meat?"

"No. Good fuck-meat makes itself useful. Good fuck-meat would be going to every one of these hard working guys and asking if there was anything she could do to please him, begging him to let her suck his cock, asking if she could drink his piss for him. Good fuck-meat is only happy when it has a cock stuck in it, or when it is helping make a man's camping experience a bit more enjoyable. Now, get on your knees...", and he let her up.

"Now we're going to practice. Open your mouth, no: wide. Good, now look me in the eye and stick out your tongue. No not like a point, like you're a wanton whore who's just dying to lick the pre-cum off my dick.... Better, now give me some bedroom eyes."

As he quietly coached her, she recognized his voice as the one that had talked her through drinking Greg's piss. This guy was different from the others. He never yelled at her. His voice moved between a quite, icy threatening when she was not satisfactory, and a kind, encouragement when she was performing as desired. He seemed to know exactly what he wanted from a sex slave, and how to make her perform his tricks like a circus poodle.

"No, you still don't have the tongue right, darling. Beg me with it, show me how much your tongue wants my cock... Oh, you need it, baby... that's it, make me want you. Show me you're a prideless slut. Yeah, excellent! See, you can be a dirty whore, when you put your mind to it"

He's too good. He must have done this before. He actually had her feeling a little happy pride in being able to totally debase herself to his satisfaction.

"Oh, baby, that's brilliant. You finally look like a real camp-slut. Now, say 'please'...No, even more desperate. As if you need it really, really bad."

"Good", he declared, standing back. "Now, why don't you just crawl over to each of these campers, ask to suck their cock or drink their piss, and then show them how much you want to until they say 'yes' or 'no'. I bet you'll find some takers, if you ask real nice.

"After you've asked every one and serviced the takers, you should keep crawling around and asking if you can help with anything. (You should always crawl when you are begging for work). Sluts never sleep, darling. If you're not doing anything for a man, then you should be working hard to find something to do. You get to stop working when ALL of us are asleep, understand? OK, way you go"

She started to crawl to the others, but he came up beside her, squatted down and put an arm on her shoulder, and said quietly to her,

"Darling, if you want to survive this, you have to make these guys happy. And if you want to make these guys happy you have to lose ALL of your pride except the pride of being a complete and utter slut. I can tell that you are trying really hard to be a good little slut, but your going to have to become a total wanton pig if you hope to live through this. Now, go ask to service each one of them and then come back to me and I'll let you wash up and put on some bug repellent." And he was gone.

Lose her pride. That was it, if only she could. She felt pathetic, crawling naked through the woods, to go beg them to use her like a whore. God, the things he made her do. She FELT like a slut. Before She was just meat, they used her like a toy. But now she had to instigate it, beg for it. She didn't know if she could make herself do it, but she kept crawling towards camp, as if to her fate.

Could she run away? No, she was only thirty feet from them, she had no shoes. And anyway, the guy, her coach, she didn't have a name for him, was standing with Ferrari watching her approach. She could just feel his smug satisfaction; he just knew she was not going anywhere except to suck cock.

She made her rounds. It wasn't so hard, really. She just did her little performance, just as she had rehearsed it. She didn't have to mean it; she just had to over-act as if she did.

She sucked one cock, drank two loads of piss, and helped peg down a tent.

Then, as promised, her coach "ordered" her, loudly enough that the others could hear, to wash herself in the stream, and to put on bug repellent and make-up. Her toiletry bag was found, and she took a metal cup from the fire to wash her hair. It felt so wonderful to get clean, to wash away the sweat, cum, and filth, as if she could wash away her violation. To get away from the mosquitoes, to soak her raw pussy and knees, and all her bug bites in the cold stream. Just to be able to spend a few minutes babying herself. She even dared lay back and relax for a minute, on the pretext of washing her hair. Just one sacred minute that she didn't have to suck cock!

Would they really let her live if she did what they want? So far they had kept all their promises. Well then, if they wanted a slut, then she would try to be the filthiest slut ever. She just had to start thinking like the slut they wanted.

She tanked up on water when she was brushing her teeth, not sure when she would next be able to drink something other than piss.

He, her coach, came over with a towel and bottles of insect repellent and suntan oil. He even helped her spray her back and hair in bug juice before leaving her with instructions to 'make herself pretty' and to grease herself with sun oil.

She didn't dawdle, but she took her time. She was in no rush to drink more piss after just brushing her teeth, and anyway, 'making herself pretty' takes time, and it WAS for their benefit.

The fuck-meat must look appetizing.

She oiled her legs, thinking as she did, that they would probably think that it was sexy.

She stopped.

Should she? If they would like to watch, maybe she should go let them. Why was this was so hard? Because for the first time, no one was telling her what to do.

Be a slut, she told herself. Make them want you. Just be the slut they want, and maybe it will be easier.

She walked over to the fire they had started, and laying down on the sleeping bag that had been thoughtfully spread out, started lasciviously smearing oil on her full breasts.

Well, that got their attention! They all gathered round and started yelling rude remarks. Which she answered in kind, stirring their fires:

"Yeah, baby, I AM your fucking slut.... Ooo, like that? You want me to squeeze them like that? ... Does that look good? ... Yeah, they're so full of milk they're ready to burst.... Yeah, I AM a fucking cow. I'm YOUR cow. Your stupid fucking cow. You want to milk me?.... OK, then cream me, baby. You know its all yours, anything you want"

Unfortunately, it looked like it was working. They were eating this up with a spoon, and they looked like they were ready to start mounting her tender pussy again. So she quickly grabbed the oil again and started smearing it into her abused hole, trying to prepare it for the threatening assault. She masked the ploy with her act:

"Ooo, does that look good? Do you like my pus...my .. cunt? (she hated that word!) YOUR cunt? It IS your cunt. Your ...big ...wet... cunt. You can fuck it whenever you want. Use it. Use ME. I'm just your stupid camp-slut...Too hairy? oh. Do you want me to shave it off? ... OK, all of it. I'll shave... PULL IT OUT?... " (That was Stark, she was starting to really hate him. And he scared her. He's the one that kept talking about torturing her)

"Um...ah...", what could she say? She was supposed to do what ever they wanted, but pull out her pubic hair, nah, they couldn't be serious. Just distract them.

"OK, I'll pull it out. But you look like you want to use me, first?" she stuck both middle fingers into her pink slit and pulled them apart so the guys in front could see deep inside. "Don't you want to stick you cocks into there." Even getting fucked again was better than the alternative, not to mention inevitable.

"Uh, well I will," said the funny looking bald one, who didn't sound too bright.

But Ferrari held up his hand for the guy to stop.

"You heard him, hole, pull it out. Pull it out strand by god damned strand. Stark's a crazy fucker, so I wouldn't say that you have to do everything he says, but he made a perfectly reasonable request, so I think you better do what he wants."

He squatted down, took her by the hair and raised her head to within inches of his face, slapped her hard and viciously spat,

"You're just a fucking whore. If someone tells you to do something, you fucking do it, there and then. It's not for you to decide if or when you do what your told. If something hurts, you do it anyway. Let us know it hurts, though; tell us how much pain you are in. Cry for us. Beg for mercy. But don't! DO NOT! even THINK about stopping. Got it, hole?"

He dropped her to the blanket told her, "now get to work."

In tears once again, she sat up and tentatively pinched a blonde pubic hair and yanked. Didn't get it. Tried again. Got it, and it only hurt a bit. She got a few next time, then found she was getting four or five at a time. But it stung every time, so it was hard to make herself inflict each painful yank. And even after a minute of this, she could see no discernible difference.

The guys soon ignored her, lounging around the fire, sucking beer, and shooting the shit. Some absently watched their big-breasted fuck-toy torture herself, but none seemed really interested. If they didn't care if she did it, why couldn't she just shave it?

After a while she could see that she was making a dent, as if nibbling away at the edge of a vast field of curly golden wheat. It was going to take her hours!

Occasionally one of them would come and stand before her, and whip out his dick. Disgusted with her own submission, she would obediently get to her knees and ask, no, beg him to let her drink his piss. They always agreed, but some started making her sit on her heels with her mouth open while they pissed into it from above. Inevitably they missed, deliberately spraying her face and chest with foul piss.

And the more they drank, the more they pissed, so she was drinking gallons of the stuff. And in no time had to go herself.

"No. Not until your done."

But that could be hours, and they kept making her drink more. She tried to speed up her depilation, but it hurt more when she went fast. Still as the minutes went by, she realized that the pain she was causing would be nothing to the pain in her bladder.

The good-looking one came over to relieve himself, and then handed her a pair of pliers. They helped. She could get more at a time with them, but it hurt a lot more too. And as she had tons to go.

She was miserable. Frustrated, humiliated, and in pain. It took almost two hours for her to completely denude her sex so far down that she could not see what she was doing. Her bladder was agony. Finally she said,

"I can't see the rest. Please, would one of you please rip the rest out...so my pussy is nice and bald the way you like it?"

"Stark.", they all agreed, and the sadist came over, and had her lie with her ankles at her ears while he viciously ripped out the growth from around her hole. She wailed in pain.

When he put the pliers down, she pleaded to be allowed to pee. No. He wanted to fuck her.

"Hey Stark, we said she could piss when she was finished."

"Yeah, well fuck you, I'm going to fuck the piss right out of her."

"Fine, as long as you let her piss. Deal's a deal"

"Hey, but not on MY sleeping bag"

So Stark dragged her off and threw her down in a mound of wild ginger, put her legs back up over her shoulders, and held them there while he rammed his way into her dry but oily womb. Oh Christ, she could not believe the pain when he started poking into her bladder. Did he really want her to piss while he fucked her? She hoped so, because it was killing her to hold it. So she let go. And found that it is really hard to piss when someone is fucking you. It came out in little spurts and squirts as he moved in and out. It felt better just to relax her control, but it still hurt to have him poking her rock hard bladder.

" I can't pee. I can't pee when you're fucking me. Please, it hurts, ..Ow, oh God, stop." She cried and pleaded with him, but he wasn't going anywhere until he was done with her. And having cum numerous times that day already, he was in no hurry. The more she pleaded, the more he seemed to like it, so she gave up begging for mercy, assured that she'd receive none. Then on consideration, she started begging even more pathetically, crying and gasping from the horrible pain, which wasn't nearly as bad as she made out, so that he got all riled up, fucked the snot out of her and spewed his scum into her womb. God, she hoped she was right about not ovulating yet.

He pulled out and a fountain of piss sprayed up from her gaping cunt, soaking his pants. He climbed off, and told her raise her ass higher. Then he stood back laughing as her piss gushed out of her now bald pussy to arc back and splatter on her stomach and tits. He took aim and added his own piss, straight into her upturned hole. So much for her bath.

She crawled back to the group. With resignation, she asked cordially if she could drink anyone's piss for them, or whether she could go clean herself up, so she looked good enough to fuck.

That was it, she thought as she gulped back a couple more servings of urine. She could just picture herself taking umpteen baths a day, and carefully putting on makeup, so that she looked appealing enough for them to rape her or piss on her.

She returned to the stream.

It felt funny to wash her bald pussy. It reminded her of when she was a little girl.

She re-applied the repellent and makeup (more difficult now, as it was starting to get darker) and tied her hair back this time. She had left it down the first time, thinking they would prefer that, but if they were going to piss on her, she should try to keep it out of the way.

Returning, she again tried to be the perfect little camp-slut. She tended the fire and every few minutes she would crawl around the circle asking like a good hostess,

"Can I get you another beer? Can I suck your cock for you? Just let me know when I can drink your piss."

Their balls seemed pretty well emptied, but she inevitably found someone who either needed a beer, or needed to get rid of one. She dutifully thanked them for the latter.

Some one decided that they shouldn't piss on her for a while, so she could stay and serve them.

Bill had her suck his dick and then made her kneel in front of the fire while he butt-fucked her slow and easy. He didn't even cum, but after maybe half an hour of working her asshole, he pulled out and told her to 'clean him up'. She didn't have to ask what that meant, but it took her twenty seconds of contemplating the thing in the firelight before she could make herself lick it. It didn't taste bad, just sort of like dirt, not the way she had thought it would, not like it smelled. But still, the idea of licking shit off someone's cock WAS TOTALLY DISGUSTING.

They let her cook dinner: Steak and corn. Someone mounted her as she was kneeling turning the corn. So she had to finish cooking with some guy humping her like a dog.

She was not offered any food.

She asked if they had coffee, would they like some, and made a caldron of it to Abe's (the not too bright bald guy) to Abe's instructions. But instead of the powdered milk they had, one of them demanded "fresh squeezed". Then they all wanted fresh squeezed, so she crawled around and let them milk her like a cow into their mugs. They passed the miner's lantern around so they could watch. How degrading!

As they drank, she tried to make herself useful. She removed the last unwanted cob of corn from the fire to the edge of the grill, half-hoping that they might let her have it. Then she collected the dishes, stacking them neatly, with the collected mound of scraps on top.

"That's your supper, cunt." Greg cackled, terribly amused by his own great wit.

Well, she was too hungry to refuse it, so she knelt on the cool mud (her ass had indeed gotten sunburnt) and gnawed her scraps. She timidly asked if she might have the last cob of corn. Ferrari made her butter it and told her to fuck herself with it. It was still quite hot, but remembering her lesson from earlier, she at least touched it to her pussy. No, too hot. She let out a yelp, and told them it was too hot.

"Fuck it anyways", Stark ordered.

"Hey man, what good is her pussy if it has third degree burns?" her coach argued. "Hey cunt, bring it here."

Thank god there was one sane on here. He held it in his fist for a number of seconds before taking his hand away, flailing it to cool it down, declaring,

"Shit! Its fuckin' hot. But… I don’t think it would do any serious damage; at least nothing will make her unuseable. Hold the wimpy bitch down!"

She was grabbed from behind, pulled backwards, and they held her in what was now a familiar position of her ankles spread on either side of her ears, pussy splayed to the world. Then Stark shoved, screwed and finally pounded the hot cob into her until it was buried. It might have been bearably hot in his hand, but in her pussy it felt like it was steaming. She started screaming from the first assault, and continued to wail of the pain and beg for mercy for a quarter hour. By then she had tired out, and the corn had cooled down sufficiently to ruin the show.

'Music to their ears' they agreed about her screams.

Bill approached from where he had been lounging, watching her struggles, and took the horrid thing out. Then he put it to her ass and started shoving. It was by far the biggest thing that had ever gone in or out through that tight hoop, and she fought and screamed and groveled and cried for mercy.

Mercy? Hah. Not a chance. She didn't know that two of them had actually taken their dicks out and were masturbating, they were so delighted with her anguish.

They left it in until her anus was so stretched that most of the pain was gone and she was too tired to complain any more. They let her go. She lay there sobbing, corn still buried in her ass, not daring to remove it.

"You're forgetting your manners, cunt. I see some pretty hard cocks over here."

"Sorry," she sputtered, and she got to her hands and knees to make her rounds. She gave two blowjobs and lay down to get fucked by another. During the first blowjob, someone tied her hands behind her back, so she had to finish them with out "that favourite cocksucker trick, the slippery hand jerk off." As Ted shoved her on her back and mounted her, she realized with horror what the hot corn had done to her vagina. While the damage might not have been medically dangerous, her tender sheath had most definitely been scalded. Even the smallest movement of his cock sent needles of pain through her loins. But few of his thrusts were small. The pain she had felt at being violated with no preparation was nothing compared to this; they had managed to make the simple act of fucking into a living hell. At least for her. Bill seemed to quite enjoy sawing in and out of her to the sound of her breathy aria of "ohgodnopleasenostopowgodnopleasenoowowowow" which finally degraded to a simple "ow ow ow ow" in counterpoint to his thrusts.

When he was done, and she had drunk the contents of some bladders, Bill told her to finish her dinner, pointing to the forgotten corncob. It lay in the dirt where it had fallen from her asshole during a blowjob.

He meant it. This guy had a thing for making her eat her own shit. She moved on her knees and put her face to it. It smelled of shit, corn, pussy, and butter. She moved to it, bared her teeth, as if to avoid touching her lips to the foul thing, and took a tentative nibble. Repulsive.

Then there was a swoosh and her ass exploded in pain. She shrieked at that!

"He said eat it." Seems her coach had made a nasty long flail from a bunch of prickly bramble canes. She didn't know what is was, but she knew it hurt like hell!

The gang loved this turn!

"Now be a good little piggy and eat your dinner. You wanted it, now get that cob clean. And I am going to play with my toy until your done."

Another blow landed. And a few seconds later, another. Someone stood astride her, his legs tight to her sides so she couldn't move. She dove at the corn, her only salvation. The blows kept falling on her sunburnt ass rhythmically every four or five seconds, urging her to wolf down the fetid corn. She would never have believed that she could so voraciously gnaw at a cob of shit-covered corn in the mud. She ate like a rabid animal, tearing and scraping the flesh from a carcass.

But its not easy eating corn with no hands, in the dark, on your knees, with the horrid distraction of being whipped. Someone moved the lantern close to her head so they could watch

Someone asked to try his hand, and the blows started falling even harder. The coach's voice came close by her head.

"Good piggy. Good little piggy. Eat up all that nice shitty corn. Maybe tomorrow you'll eat what you're given and we won't have to hurt you." And he brushed back her hair to watch her clean the shaggy bits off the muddy cob.

"I think she's done", he said, and the whipping stopped.

After that, things calmed down a lot. She made her rounds, drank their piss and was occasionally dragged off to the sleeping bag to be painfully fucked, but they were getting both drained and drunk so even if they could get it up, they often just stuck it in and sawed away for a while.

Much later the alcohol also brought more badgering. Poking her with sticks. Spitting beer on her. At one point, fairly late, Stark wanted to make her walk on hot coals or roast her tits on the grill, and they all said "sure". But after ten minutes of discussion during which she almost pissed herself with fear, he actually stood her up as if to do it, and they all told him to fuck off, and three of them were on their feet ready to stop him. She made note of which ones: the coach, the quiet one, and Greg. He settled for burning her with a glowing stick, and even here they made him keep it to her legs, and only a few. The pain was hideous, but she found that the thing that made it worse was the horror of their glee. Red coals thrust against her calves and inner thighs, and her tormentors giggled and crowed at her shrieks of agony. If they could laugh at this, she was truly beyond hope.

The party started dwindling. She wondered if she might not be able to run away if they all fell asleep.

In the gray of dawn, only Greg, Ferrari and Stark were left to put a Saturday Night Fever tape on their little shitbox and make her dance. John Travolta imitations, wiggling her tits, and flinging bottle caps at her amused them for half an hour. Then coach appeared and asked to use her for a while, and dragged her into his tent. He climbed on top of her as if to fuck her muttering, "Fuck, won't they ever shut up?", but all he did was fall asleep using her breasts as pillows. Stark kept coming up to the tent for awhile and yelling the tortures he was going to inflict when she came out, but eventually all of them fell asleep.

But not Liane; she just cried. Her mind still reeled at her situation, it was terribly uncomfortable having someone sleep on her, but worst of all, she was covered in bug bites, and he had snarled in his sleep for her to stop scratching. The frustration and physical distress of itching so viciously and yet not allowed to scratch was a torture of hell. She lay for hours, wide eyed, fists clenched, praying for strength.

*************************************

"Bitch! Where's that fuckin' bitch?!"

Oh God, it was starting again.

"She's coming." Her human prison rolled off of her so she could get back to work. "Bring me some coffee when you're finished".

"Bitch! Get in here and lick my asshole. NOW!"

He watched her enter the other tent, following her with "and keep your eye on her!"

The coach made sure that every man was greeted that morning with a forced-cheery "May I drink your piss for you? Can I get you a cup of coffee? I would love to suck your cock for you? And your pussy is all wet and ready for you, whenever you want it." And to a man, when asked so sweetly, they took her up on at least two if not more of her offers. Coffee and a blowjob in bed, and the piss sucked from your stick where you lie? Pure camping heaven.

She was also expected to do all the dishes, clean up the campsite, 'make herself pretty', and cook anyone whatever they wanted for breakfast. Those who wanted cereal or porridge had her go on her hands and knees over their bowls while they milked her like a cow. Greg even made her 'moo' while he did it.

Then the collected table scraps were tossed in a mucky little depression and the little piggy was told to root for her slop. This seemed terribly amusing, especially making her snuffle and snort while she wallowed. It also wrung the day's first tears, but she did it; without a complaint or hesitation, and until the muck was spotless. She was a quick study of the lash.

Five of them left to go into town "the long way" for more "piss and supplies". She thought she heard them making a list, but could not concentrate as she had a cock humping her throat like it was a pussy.

The coach and the quite one, Ted, stayed to guard her.

With just two of them, they decided they should bind her ankles with a foot and a half of nylon rope between them. Then they fused the knots with a lighter.

In no time, Ted was buried in a book, a textbook from the look of it. This left the coach to entertain her, which meant what? She couldn't figure this guy. He humiliated her more then the others, hurt her at least as much, and yet he was the only one to show her the least kindness, as well.

"I told you to stop scratching", he snapped, lingering over his coffee, "It isn't sexy."

Not sexy?! She had been eaten alive yesterday! She would go mad if she didn't scratch.

He had her go and bathe. He used the top half of a plastic bottle as a funnel and filled first her pussy, then her ass full of cold water. The contents of her pussy she emptied into a large cooking pot which he informed her would be her lunch. He bathed as she applied makeup, then she warmed some water and he lay with his head in her lap as she shaved him. It's hard shaving a man's face.

During this, she screwed up her courage, and asked if she could ask him something. He assented.

"You've done this before, haven't you?"

"Not like this, but yes. I have played dominance games with lovers and whores, but never had a real slave, one that could not say 'no'".

"Don't you care how I feel?"

"Of course I do. How you feel is the MOST important thing. Without your fear, pain, and humiliation, this wouldn't be any fun at all. If you are not unhappy, then its time to make things worse."

She thought on this awhile, while struggling with his jaw line. "But why?"

"Because it makes my dick hard to see you cry, you fool. Power is a turn-on. Don't ask such silly questions."

How could men enjoy being so cruel? And did it really turn him on so much? Though the day before was a blur of hundreds of cocks laying siege to her body, she did not remember him using her, at least not after that first rape. She was pretty sure they had all used her then. She offered herself to him often, as she had to all of them, but, thinking about it, she was quite certain he had always declined.

She finished shaving him in quiet, but snuck in at the end,

"What's your name?"

"To you?: 'Sir'", with finality. But he did not get up.

"I'm finished." she informed him, but he did not answer except with an expectant look. She didn't know what he wanted. "uh...I'm finished, Sir?"

"Yes...?", he said, with a strongly implicated 'and?...' in his voice.

What? It was like she was missing something. But he agreed that she was done.

"Would...would you like to piss in my mouth?"

He smiled. She had past some stupid little test. "No thank-you." but still he stared into her eyes, upside down from her lap.

"Your cunt is...I could have your cunt nice and wet and ready for you in no time, Sir, if you wanted. Would you like to fuck it?"

He got to his feet, and stood over her staring down so that she had to tip her head way back to look at him. And again he waited. This WAS a test. And Liane didn't know why but she wanted to pass. Just because she thought she might be punished? Or did she actually not want to disappoint him? She could not say.

"Would you like me to...", and she caught herself. He had not answered. He had slapped her this morning for not continuing to beg one service until she was answered. Like a sicko's game of "Simon Says".

"Please, I'll...ah, please Sir, I'll ... I'll make your cunt extra juicy for you." He smirked. Right answer.

"Nice and juicy, just... just the way you like it. The way a cunt should be". He tipped his head to the side to look at her pussy, as if to see if it lived up to her claims. He furled his brow.

She thrust a hand between her legs assuring him "I'll... your cunt will be ready for you in just one minute, Sir." She spit on her fingers to help get started. "See? See, Sir, I'm getting all ready for you...for your cock." She had never masturbated in front of anyone before, but modesty never crossed her mind. They were winning; she WAS becoming their total slut.

He smiled, pursing his lips with mocking satisfaction. But he said nothing. And it was getting hard to find words. What else to say?

Beg him. "Please, Sir, please fuck me. Your...your fuck-meat...needs to be fucked. Your stupid slut needs to be fucked. Please? I'm getting it so wet for you. It is still sore from all the cocks that fucked me, yesterday, and the hot corn burned it. So you'll hurt me if you fuck me. I know you like to hurt me."

What else? What else could he want to hear? At the risk of failing his test by becoming redundant, she continued mixing and matching everything she had said so far, while she slowly eased back into what she was starting to think of as 'her position'; 'her fuck-meat position', spreading her knees farther apart than her roped ankles with her elbows, while she diddled herself with one hand and finger-fucked herself with the other.

"Please, Sir, Please hurt me with your cock. I'm such a stupid cunt, but I'm getting wet for you"

Which was true. While her brain was still disgusted with the things she was begging, her slick fingers had managed get her slightly wet. Or could she actually be starting to get into her slut roll? Her audience may have thought so, because with bedroom eyes, as if enamoured by her vulgarly enticing performance, he went to one knee beside her, and slowly lowered himself toward her for a passionate kiss. She stopped her monologue and sensuously parted her lips to receive him.

And he spat in her face. An enormous hork splattered across her cheek, some clinging to her nose, some landing in her waiting mouth, some arced across her eye. "Fuck, you're pathetic." he snarled in disgust, "You are so fucking useless" and he slapped her dry cheek.

Her tears were immediate. She had thought she was doing well, humiliating herself for his pleasure. She thought...she had hoped she was pleasing him.

He stood over her again, sneering. Waiting. He wanted her to continue.

"I'm so pathetic", she sniffled, knowing it was true. "I AM fucking useless", and she paused to snork her sinuses clear, "and... and I hate begging you so much, and, and, it makes me feel so awful...and I'm just a useless cunt". And at this she broke out sobbing, so that it took quite a while for her to blubber out, "and I hate myself, and...and, I just want you to fuck me, I want you to fuck my... my useless cunt. I...I want to make you happy." This made her cry harder, probably because at some level it was the truth. Her distress seemed to wash away all her creativity and she was reduced to whimpering,

"Please? Please fuck me...Please...please?"

She did want it. Not that she was at all horny; she was just desperate to stop begging him. To stop groveling. Somehow, being raped was less humiliating than calling herself a slut and begging to be fucked.

He spit on her splayed pussy, saying with disgust,

"Me, fuck THAT hole? Hell, no"

Her hands fell away from her rejected pussy, and she sobbed a little harder. And he waited.

Did he want her to keep going? He had said 'no'. She was lost, confused.

He unzipped his fly and pulled out his semi-hard cock and left it dangling above her.

"Would...would you like me to suck your cock, then?" She almost sounded hopeful, and yet she just knew he was just going to make her beg some more, only to say 'no'. But she did her best to beg convincingly. He looked her body up and down, disgusted, and she realized she was supposed to be on her knees. She did the thing with her mouth where she shows him how much she wants it, this stuff was becoming second nature to her, now. As if rewarding her, he lowered his balls onto her tongue for just two licks, their eyes locked. Then he stepped back, a few strands of her hair in his hand, and she was again licking air. A tug on her hair and a curt glance towards his cock told her she was to crawl forward. He let go the strand and took another step back. And she went on all fours to crawl after him. And then at a terribly slow pace they proceeded; him walking backward one pace at a time, and her crawling after his cock, begging to suck it, licking the air lasciviously, insulting herself, and generally feeling totally pathetic.

They moved through the woods like that for some time. She tried to be creative, but repeated herself a lot. The first time she called herself a cocksucker, he nobly allowed her to lick the pre-cum off his dick and she actually felt a vague gratification from it.

She told him how she had never liked sucking cock. How her first boyfriend used to make her blow him. How she had not swallowed since she was fifteen, but always spit the disgusting stuff out. How her ex and her used to fight because he wanted blowjobs but she wouldn't demean herself. She tried to express her absolute revulsion at begging him like this. He asked for more details, especially about her first experiences. He had her beg for just one taste, and then "allowed" her to mouth his entire length just once, before they continued, his cock glistening with her spit.

She crawled in mud, on sharp rocks, through brambles that scraped and scratched her from her breasts to her toes, and on the solid, course granite of the ridge they had crossed yesterday.

A small stack, a blanket, a pot, his whip, and some rope lay on the ridge, waiting for them.

There he stopped, and asked her, still in the spirit of this strange rapport, if, honestly, she wanted to suck his cock. Honestly? So, honestly she told him, no, but it was less degrading then begging, and she didn't want him to hurt her.

"Good," he replied, "Blow me, slut."

It was actually a relief to finally start servicing him; she'd been groveling for most of an hour. She did her best, and even begged him not to cum in her mouth, thinking it would make him want to. But it was not until he laid her on the hot rock and brutally fucked her throat, making her gag and wretch, that he finally withdrew to spew in a puddle between her breasts.

Then he sat back and had a smoke while instructing her to pick the goo up and make love to it as if it were the most delicious, sexy nectar in the world. This was a hard act and she performed it with no real enthusiasm. She knew it, too. And yet after what she knew had been a splendid performance while crawling, she thought it might be overlooked. She did manage to stretch out the repulsive act of eating cold sperm off her tits for about a quarter hour making all the right motions, but with no conviction.

She waited a moment when finished, for any new instructions, and was about to revert back to 'did he want to piss', when he declared,

"Well. That was pathetic. You will be punished for that this evening, so you better do better next time."

He had her stand, close her eyes and place her hands behind her head. At any moment she expected the whip to fall, probably on her thrust breasts. But instead, he sensuously started smearing sun oil all over her, except carefully avoiding her breasts, ass and pussy, the palest, most vulnerable parts of her body.

"But I'll be roasted" she complained.

He just smiled, though she could not see it.

He sent her to go pick blue berries. For over two hours she sweated in the hot sun, her already burnt ass getting more sun, as she filled the pot with tiny berries. She stopped only once, to run down and get him a cold beer, him watching her like a hawk the whole time. He nursed his drink in the shade of a tree while she worked. He enjoyed feeling like a man of leisure watching his slave-girl toil in the field.

She envied him his beer. It was thirsty work being out in the sun, and she was sweating away her liquids. But she would rather go thirsty then drink urine, and he would make her do that soon enough anyway.

But he didn't. When the pot was full, she went and pulled the last beer out of the stream for him. On returning, she thought she had better offer to drink his piss.

"No thanks, I went while you were gone.

"Unless you 're thirsty." He added, "I might find some more."

She was, but not that thirsty. She'd wait.

He told her to jump rope. Jump rope in the hot sun, in bare feet on rock, her swollen breasts flopping wildly, painfully, as he lounged with his beer in the shade. She had to recite al those stupid skipping poems while she did it.

"Hey, we should get you to sing some campfire songs for us, tonight." he mused.

Then after a quarter hour, he ordered "peppers". Three minutes of that and she could not decide if she was going to faint before or after her breasts fell off. She looked over to him in pleading desperation, only to find he was ignoring her, while emptying his bladder into his beer can. When he was finished, he let her stop.

He wanted her to ask for a drink. Not because he had to go, not because he was forcing her, but because she was so thirsty she was willing to drink piss. They both knew it. She could wait. She was completely parched, and would have done just about anything for a glass of water, but to actually ask to drink piss? But then she rationalized that eventually she would have to, either because she broke down, or because the others returned and made her. And she really was very thirsty.

"Please, may I drink your piss?"

"No thanks, I just went".

He was going to make this difficult.

"Please, I am very thirsty, and I would like...I would love a drink of your piss"

"Oh, sure. Help yourself." and he handed her the can.

Hot piss in a hot can on a hot day. Not refreshing. God this stuff tasted awful. Where shit didn't taste as bad as she thought, this was even worse. And she never got used to it. Last night had been better; it was almost all beer. But this morning had been gut wrenching; the acrid liquor of the night's collected toxins. A few sips now was enough to remind her how pleasant being thirsty was, but a harsh look from him at her can, and she knew she was to finish it. Mouthful by mouthful she choked the foul stuff back, crying just one more time at her deplorable situation.

After that, he tied her hands together behind her head and told her she could sleep (she looked like shit, and felt worse). Even lying bare on a coarse rock it the hot sun she was asleep in no time. She knew she was going to burn, that he wanted her to burn, and was helpless to prevent it. She could only try to make it evenly bad, and so tried to wake up often to change positions. But her ass was already a little burnt and protecting that, she entered deep sleep flat on her back, the puddings of her ghostly white breasts on broil. He smiled at that.

When she awoke, sweat dripping off her back, she knew she'd been too long on her back. He bid her good morning and asked her if she was ready for lunch or whether she wanted to catch more rays. She didn't have a choice, and that was the way he wanted it.

Her "lunch" had partially separated into stringy clots of day-old sperm clinging to the pot, covered by a slightly milky broth. It smelled rotten. The protein had already begun breaking down and the yeasty pussy juice made it worse. She thought she was going to heave.

She sat cross-legged near the smoldering fire, studying the pot of offal in her lap. He had said, "use your fingers, and show me you love it. Maybe you can reduce your punishment." and then leaned back to enjoy the sandwiches she had made. The more she looked at the slop the harder it became to make herself even touch it.

"Your hesitation now is going to cause you a great deal of pain this evening. How much is up to you. One?... two...?"

He made it to five before she summoned her courage and tentatively dipped her hand into the pot.

What theatre! The drawn-out contemplation. The reluctant distaste as she dipped her hand into the cold slop. That priceless shudder when she confronted that first pinch of ropy slime. The hesitation. The gathering of determination, The look of pure revulsion as she inched it closer to her face. The look of nausea when she put it to her lips. Actually seeing her stomach heave, her throat gag. The torture she put herself through with every subsequent little taste. Pure art!

He kept his amusement to himself, not wanting to break her concentration.

Of course she would have to be punished later for not enjoying it, but why remind her when this was a win/win situation.

He let her finish the slime in her own good time, first picking all floating bits, then scraping strands that clung to the sides and bottom, and finally, when it passed his inspection, she was allowed to raise the pot to her lips and drain the milky broth.

"And the next time you see sperm outside of your body, even if its running out of your ass, you will make love to it. Do you understand?"

He had her bring him a small bowl of blueberries and milked her until they were floating. Then he dawdled over these while she licked his asshole for most of an hour.

Part 3 - http://www.rapeboard.com/showthread....8463#post38463

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