Christina, Slave In Training Ch. 2

Deputy Huntsinger proved his muscles were real by picking Christine up like a rag doll to seat her on the edge of a table. She sat there for a moment with her legs dangling and uncertain what she was to do next before Sheriff Cain spoke to her once more.

"Pull your knees up sister and spread 'em. Hook your heels on the table by your butt, and then lean back on your elbows so that your pussy and ass hole are shoved out front nice and pretty for us. You want to make it easy for your hubby to suck out all that dirty old cum don't you?" The grin on sheriff Cain's face was positively evil as he watched his slave girl take the exposed and humiliating position he demanded of her.

"And you, boy!" the sheriff ordered turning to Stanley. "You pull your pants up. Come over here and kneel down. Your job is to clean out what Boomer and Luke left behind in your wife's cunt and ass. Me and my deputy here are gonna have some fun with her and we don't want our dicks sloshing around in some other man's cum."

Stanley knelt on the floor between his wife's spread thighs, and leaned in toward the swollen pussy in his face. Opening his mouth as wide as it would stretch, he all but swallowed that top hole, clit and all. Christine had always loved the way her husband ate her, and with her senses already on a razor's edge, it seemed to her that his tongue was probing deeper than ever before as he searched the walls of her vagina for jism left behind by the cocks of Boomer and Luke.

It was sooo good to be licked like that. She caught herself squeezing her hands into fists so tight that her fingernails were cutting into her palms. "God," she thought as a small orgasm racked her, "how she did need to be fucked."

"Good job boy!" Sheriff Cain was speaking again. "Good job, but get to work now on that next hole."

Stanley could feel his wife's pussy tissues quivering under his tongue and he knew from experience she was only a nanosecond from explosion. It was with some reluctance that he snatched that release away from her, but the Sheriff was the boss and he had to be obeyed. As instructed, he switched his tongue downward to probe at that tight little opening in the crack of her ass. It was too tight really. Whatever Boomer and his pal might have left behind was simply not reachable now that the sphincter muscle had closed.

No penetration was needed to set off Christine, however. The mere touch of a wet tongue on her anus was enough. Always, her very favorite foreplay was to have her ass hole stroked and played with. As willing as Stanley was to eat her pussy, he seldom if ever ran his tongue into or around that second hole where she wanted it so badly. Now, however, it was there, and the orgasm his tongue had left behind in her pussy quickly shifted to the lower hole. It did not stay there long. Up thru her bowels it exited into her stomach, then into her throat, and finally out her mouth in a babble, "Jesus, Oh damn, I'm cccuuumminnng! St-stop, pl-plea-zz st-stop or I-I'll d-die!

"That will do hubby. You two are having far too much fun. Get your mouth off her and go back to watching. My deputy and I will take over now" Sheriff Cain ordered. "Your turn Brian. She's pretty near ready. Get up on the table with her, stretch her out, and eat her pussy until she begs us to fuck her."

Deputy Brian knew not to dawdle when the Sheriff spoke. In a bound he landed on top of the table almost before Stanley could stand up and move away. Taking the orgasmic Christine by the shoulders, he pulled her to the center of the table and laid her out flat on her back. The poor girl was weak from cumming on her husband's tongue, and she could only moan in protest as this Italian stallion crawled between her spread legs and dropped his head into her crotch.

This was a different tongue, perhaps even a different animal. Christine recognized that much right away. She was no stranger to cunnilingus. A friend of her fathers had first eaten her pussy when she was only 15. Licking her now, however, was a tongue wider and longer than any she had ever felt before, a tongue that felt almost as fat and as deep in her pussy as a small cock. Never had she ever been eaten like this, not even by Stanley who always made her cunt feel sooo good.

On fire after what Stanley had done to her pussy, Christine couldn't take much more. The huge tongue of this dark and handsome policeman was driving her over the edge into a continuous orgasm that made it difficult to breathe. What was it the Sheriff had said? "...eat her pussy until she begs for it......we'll make a sandwich out of her."

Christine knew what that meant. Together they would double fuck her..., pin her between two cocks, and hold her there until they filled both her holes with their semen. The very thought of such abuse was terrifying..., but entirely, wonderfully, erotic.

"Pl-please...," Christine began hesitantly, "Please..., I-I...,"

"Please what slut?" Sheriff Cain interrupted, "Please fuck you? Is that what you want..., to be fucked?"

"Y-yes p-please f-fuck m-me." Christine managed to reply despite the torment of that thick tongue still ravaging her pussy.

"Not near good enough slut." the lawman told her. "You can beg for it in a minute. First tell me who you belong to."

"I belong to you S-Sir. I'm your slut Sir. P-please make him st-stop licking m-my p-pussy S-s-sir. I-I c-can't stop c-cumming Sir."

"And who am I slut? What is my name?"

"I-I don't know S-sir."

"Jacob Cain, the elected Sheriff of Bakersfield County, that is who I am. Sheriff Jacob Cain, that is who owns you slut. Now beg your owner to fuck you in the ass slut."

"P-Please S-Sheriff C-Cain, f-fuck m-me in the a-ass. I want your cock in my ass," Christine managed to stammer. "P-please anything but th-this t-tongue in my p-pussy anymore."

"Ok Brian," the Sheriff called out to his deputy, "that's enough. Get your clothes off and lay down with her. Let's see if our little bitch here will mount that big tallywhacker of yours."

Deputy Huntsinger was ready and he didn't need to be told twice. In a flash off came that tailored uniform blouse, followed close behind by his boots and pants. Christine laid where she had been, recovering her senses and grateful for the relief to her poor over stimulated pussy.

Her first impression of this dark and handsome man's body was of muscles, weightlifter muscles, in his arms and across his broad chest. Then the pants came off and she saw IT. If this man's tongue wasn't incredible enough, his pecker was even more awesome. Already hard and fully erect, Christine thought it must be all of 11, maybe even 12 inches long and 3 full inches around..., longer and thicker that any she had ever taken inside her before.

Sheriff Cain had his pants off and was crawling up onto the table top when his deputy pulled Christine over on top of him. It felt oh so good to lay on this man with her tits crushed against his muscular chest while staring hypnotized into those jet black Mediterranean eyes. Even sexier was the male phallus that was standing straight up between her legs. Christine could feel it pressing on her sexual core from pussy slit to the crack of her ass.

"Put it in for me Darlin'," she was told. The accent was distinctly southern. Christine was surprised. She had expected to hear harsh tones from an Italian section of Brooklyn.

She wasn't at all certain that her poor pussy would stretch to take that much man meat, but Christine was in such need of a cock inside her that she was more than willing to try. She lifted her hips, and reaching back with one hand took a firm grip on the weapon she simultaneously feared and lusted for. In single a hard shove, she wedged him solidly it into her slit, then allowing her hips to slowly drop, she gradually impaled herself upon that magnificent pole.

It was what she imagined childbirth might be like. Her cunt, however, was positively greasy with female lubrication, and in time she took all of him, all the way to his balls. In that moment of bliss, Christine decided that this penis inside her was surely the most wonderful one of her life.

Behind her she could feel Sheriff Cain probing at the crack of her ass with his decidedly less formidable spear. Despite his lesser size, perhaps for the want of lubrication, his entry into her ass was painful and difficult for Christine. The pain, however, served only as a counter point to the pleasure deputy Brian was bringing to her other hole.

Gradually Sheriff Cain's cock squeezed its way into that tight rear channel until it reached the membrane that separated cunt from bowel. Now the two penis heads were so near to each other that they seem to be rubbing together. The sensation of dick touching dick was sensual beyond anything Christine had ever before experienced. Unable to hold back her orgasms even had she wanted to do so, the suffering girl began to cum all over again, even more violently than before.

"Fuck me! Oh fuck me! Please don't stop! More! More! Fuck my pussy! Fuck my ass. Please...." Christine was chattering incoherently. Her husband could only shake his head in disbelief as he watched the degrading abuse of two cocks set his wife off in a way he had never seen before.

Riding high on her ass the Sheriff pumped his cock into his $600 slave girl's rectum with ever increasing ease as her anal muscles relaxed. Christine in turn rocked her hips in sync with his thrusts as she jacked her pussy along the 12 inches of male organ of the man under her. The man whose pole she was riding grabbed her by the hair and yanked her mouth down to his. The huge tongue that had so tormented her cunt he now rammed deep into her throat, even as his cum spurted into her womb. At almost the same moment, the Sheriff's cock quivered and gave up its matching load to her bowel.

With his ejaculation over Sheriff Cain's collapsed heavily upon Christine's back. Pressed by the Sheriff's weight she lay quietly, still the female center of this sexual sandwich , and still pinned between cocks that continued to soak in the wet of her ass and pussy. Abused, publicly displayed and humiliated, and struggling for breath, yet Christine had never so completely satisfied as at that moment. It was a reaction that her husband did not fail to notice.

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THE ESCAPE

The Sheriff groaned and rolled over and off the pile of flesh on top of the table. "Ok, boys," he announced, "the first round of drinks are on me. A cheer went up and the serious drinking began. With the waitresses gone, Christine was pressed into service, delivering drinks to the tables. As she worked the crowded room, hands from everywhere stroked her naked flesh, on her legs and ass, on her tits and nipples, between her legs. Sheriff Cain was amused at her distress, and did nothing to protect her.

Stanley meanwhile helped the bartender behind the bar washing glasses, himself waiting on tables occasionally, and doing some of the drink preparation when needed. As the night wore on a few of the customers left for home but the majority stayed. Eventually, one by one, they began to pass out where they sat or stretched out is some dark corner.

By about 3:15 in the morning, only Christine and Stanley were still on their feet. She looked questioningly at her husband. "Quaaludes." he said softly. "There were bottles and bottles of them behind the bar. I've been slipping them in the drinks for hours now. Some of these guys must have the constitutions of mules. I thought I would never knock them out."

Stanley took his wife by the arm and started to lead her out of the bar, but she protested. "This Sheriff..., he'll make trouble, probably even come after me and bring me back. I don't want to be chained and whipped."

"Trust me, Christine, dear," he replied, "You stick with your husband and you will have no problems with Sheriff Cain. In my pocket I have his monogrammed handkerchief full of his semen..., and his DNA. I have left him a note about that behind the bar. That hanky will be in my lawyer's safety deposit box. One peep out of him it goes to the lab, and the lab results go to the Governor and State police along with my affidavit of what happened here tonight."

"Thank God! I can get away after all." was all Christine could say.

The two fugitives hurried back to the motel and 10 minutes later they were already a mile out of town speeding for the county line. In their haste there had been no time for talk. With some of the pressure off, Christine turned to her husband trying to explain her orgasmic reactions to being forced to perform as a sex slave.

"Stanley, I hope you realize that I was raped. I had no choice," she began. "I didn't want to do all those dirty things with those awful men. They raped me."

"Save the bull shit, Christine," her husband interrupted. "You were raped its true. Its also true you loved every minute of it. You are a slut Christine. Abuse and rough sex turns you on..., no more that, it sends you into the heat like a dog bitch in season. When you are humiliated and forced to worship a penis, you can't get enough it.

I should have seen what a slut you are a long time ago, but I mean to make up for it now. You're not off the hook my lovely wife. You just changed masters..., you are now not just my wife, but my slut a well. You are going to be the same slave whore that Sheriff Cain would have made of you, except that you will be my slave whore. Come to think of it tho, maybe that won't be much of an improvement. With the things I have in mind for you, you might be happier with him ."

Christine flared up angrily. "I won't do it. You can't make me. We will be in civilization. There are laws. I'll get a lawyer and divorce you."

"No Christine," Stanley told her confidently. "No, you will not divorce me. You will do exactly as I tell you. You forget that it is me who has the incriminating hanky. Give me any trouble I'll call Sheriff Cain and tell him to come and get you. He has 600 bucks invested in your ass and he doesn't strike me as a man who will let that investment go if he doesn't have to."

Christine fell silent, contemplating her options and finally deciding that she had none. What exactly did Stanley have in mind to do with her she wondered? Well, she conceded to herself, perhaps she WAS a slut who needed a master..., a master who would abuse her and force her pleasure him with her sex. It would seem so anyway from the events of this evening. She had never experienced such orgasms before in her life.

Behind the wheel of the car, Stanley smiled in the dark (perhaps leered would be a better word) as he thought of the many ways he intended to use and abuse this slave he had married. Like a child on Christmas eve, Stanley had visions dancing in his head. They were not, however, visions of sugar plumbs, but of a naked Christine, hanging by her arms from a ceiling rafter, freshly whipped, begging to be fucked.

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In the next Chapter, assuming you readers support this one with votes and feedback, Stanley continues Christine's training as a slave. Close to home this time though where friends and business associates can join in the fun. I apologize for being late getting this chapter up, and I'll try to do better with the next one, but sometimes the story refuses to hatch until its ready. I do best though when I hear from my readers. - Jigs