Rogue State Ch. 05

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A hot young congressional aide is captured by a dope cartel.
2.8k words
4.27
53.7k
4

Part 5 of the 5 part series

Updated 11/01/2022
Created 08/15/2007
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5. Golden Girl

"My name is Kim Tuyen Tien," the half-naked girl smiled gently. "I take care of new slaves."

"My back?" I asked, the question plainly being: shouldn't it hurt like hell right about now? I shifted on the bed, luxuriating in a warm liquid glow that lightly coated me -- pretty much everywhere.

"I've taken care of it, love," she said. She lifted a plain glass jar, dipped in two fingers and drew out an amber lotion. "This heals as much as it arouses," she said, "and I have warmed your skin with it while you rested." She arched her eyebrows and tossed her head, stray bangs falling over her almond eyes as she indicated the light blue smoke around us. "I dare say the herb has eased the pain, yes?"

Well -- yes. Something sure had. I wiggled my fingers at the haze. "What is that, anyway? Opium?"

"A special mix of my making," she smiled with gratitude for my implied compliment rather than pride in her accomplishment. "Not opium, although the poppy figures heavily in it."

Poppy. I need to get a plan together to get out of a Chinese maze of a prison in the middle of a part of the Southeast Asian jungle no one bothers to try to claim to rule (other than the wackos holding me prisoner), and after a bucket of god-knows-what dope they'd already pumped into me, this Viet chick was tickling my nose with poppy smoke.

Think, anyway! I told myself. By now you're known missing; the Congressman will put that pasty little dough boy Tompkins on it, he handles foreign affairs. He'll love it. He's been wanting to handle me for two years. But he will know how to cut to the chase and chase me down -- even out here. He arranged the damn mission to begin with. I just have to last it out.

"Chuang?" I demanded. "Is he coming back?"

"I very much doubt it," she turned to soak the rag in a water bowl, and as she was ringing it out, she added, "He's dead, you see."

Past the charming lilt made from both the sibilance of the Vietnamese tongue flowing through obviously British schooled English, she looked about my age, her round face and high cheekbones a lovely stage for those large brown eyes, framed by oil black hair falling thick to her shoulders and on down to the top of her ass. She turned back to me, this time bringing the cool relief of the rag to my throat. I noticed her flawless saffron skin, her forearm brushing against my nose.

She was what smelled like cinnamon. I say that her arms, and torso, and breasts, were coated with that same golden lotion that pleasantly warmed my skin. It shone in the tight curve of her bronze hip. Warms more than arouses, she had said. More, not instead.

"Chuang is dead?" I smiled.

"Mr. Stephens returned to your cell and found it empty. When he found Chuang with you, he took ... disciplinary measures." She brought the rag back to my forehead and pressed sweet cool water over my eyebrows. "Mr. Stephens believes whipping to be a barbaric custom, and one that fails to produce magnificence in slave girls. Quite right, that, I think!"

"Stephens ... killed Chuang?"

She hesitated, a flash of fear in her eyes. "Eventually."

Acid bit at my stomach. She frowned.

"You wanted him dead," she said. "You told Stephens as he took you down from the chains. You don't remember?"

I shook my head. But I had to admit I felt the first bit of triumph in a while at the thought of the hateful little man dead. Painfully dead, it sounded like, and I was quite happy about that.

"You're the American spy, aren't you?" Kim murmured. "Poor baby. They'll really want to see you twist. You're quite a prize."

"Twist?" I squinted at her, remembering all too well twisting for Mr. Chuang. "You said Stephens doesn't whip girls."

"He finds no pleasure there. Others ..." she shrugged. "But by twist, I meant --"

My hips hopped up from the bed, a blue hot bolt slamming from my nether lips as she deftly, gently, stroked them apart, just once, and then sat back, smiling at me conspiratorially. A back draft of nervous shock ran from my head to my toes, and I could feel a blush burn my brown skin burgundy.

Okay, so -- when did I start liking me some girl?

"You see?" she said. "Despite your whipping, the Serpent's Tongue is licking at you." At my frown, she added, "No doubt you've already guessed that there is a drug involved in Mr. Stephens' work?"

I started to say yes, and wanted to say another girl had never touched me like that, but all these thoughts slammed into a pane of glass shock as I realized that I had somehow, perhaps willfully, failed to see that Kim's throat was encircled with a ring of heavy steel. She saw my eyes fix on the collar, which she caressed briefly with her fingertips.

"Yes," she said. "I am a slave, too. What did you think? That free women here are kept naked?"

"You have -- those."

She smiled down at the filmy harem pants so neatly outlining her long toned legs and finely turned ass. "Yes," she said. "But that's not quite the fashion of our citizens. More a fantasy of our men. A slave's garment. I'm allowed clothes because of my ... special status."

She reached down again, this time leaving the rag in the bucket. She brought back up that a small glass jar of thick amber lotion.

"Wha-what is that?" I asked, my voice weaker than I wanted.

Her eyebrows arched gracefully, and then she smiled, eyebrows descending slowly. "Golden Angel," she said, screwing the top off with the tips of her slender brown fingers. She licked her upper lip slowly, too -- very, very slowly, the lip pulping out a bit as she tucked the tip just under her button nose. "Angel gold for us women," she clarified. "Softens the blows."

"From the whipping?"

"No, I mean -- in the head. Mr. Stephens' blows. Golden Angel opens your mind's eye to every conceivable pleasure, instead. Opens ... all of you." Her eyes drifted down my body, not erotically, but methodically, like a doctor's. I realized I had tented my hands over my sex. "I'm sorry, little sister," she said. "I should have realized ...."

Kim stood, yanking down her harem pants. This first awkward thing she'd done in my presence was softened in effect by the sweet smile she gave me.

And then nude, her smile widened to a grin. "There now. Don't be embarrassed! We're both just sisters, just sister slaves. Equal."

Equal? I thought. Thanks for the compliment! Kim's short slender body was a sinuous flow of tight curves from a graceful neck down past two perfectly shaped grapefruit breasts, a flat tummy framed with the hard curves of a hard body waist. She was spectacular, a kama sutra statue come to life.

She stood, leaning over me, her ripe little breasts plump against my nose, their swollen mahogany nipples then tickling down my belly as she rubbed more Golden Angel lotion over my breasts and hips.

More dope! I thought, feeling the lotion work through my skin. But this wasn't like Serpent's Tongue. This didn't hop me high into the sex jitters, fingers twisting. This was the opposite, causing me to relax to the max, my body going loose and my pussy wet and open, fingers flexing ... reaching. My breathing sped up gently, my eyes slit to stare up at the woman who had been the first to touch me -- like that.

I had never been into girls. But THIS girl -- or was it just this Golden Angel talking? Whatever it was had my blood simmering. Was it any wonder this woman was enslaved? How could men ... or women, for that matter ... look at her and not think sex, twenty-five hours a day? How could anyone not pant to have her sexuality freely at hand? How could you not want to own such breathing beauty?

Imagine, I thought. To have her kneeling before you. If you could, if it was in your power to have her deepest passion at your beck and call, how could you resist?

And then -- quicker than you could say Blackadder -- "you", sir, was "me", sir.

I tried to stop all these sweet forbidden thoughts, but it was like trying to put juice back in a grape, you try and you end up just wanting to lick your fingers until the tips wrinkle. The juice turned to wine, as my head swam in pleasure, my heart thumping harder, faster.

Her face turned, luminous, joyful with a sweet smile sliding wide. "You see?" she whispered. "Our angels wrap their wings around us, save us from the demons of men."

Of course she summoned angels as protection. Because men wanted her. Had to have her. Not just have her -- plow her. Devour her.

My entire body was breathing, every pore, and I forced away the thoughts of Stephens, or captivity, of slavery, by focusing on Kim. Focusing so hard, I didn't even notice when I reached for her down-stretched arms. I just found my hands at her elbows, pulling her down, my own smile so wide it tickled my cheeks. A moment later my palms were brushing over her swollen nipples while she returned the favor to me.

Then it was her mouth on my mouth, and my first thought to turn away turned way back in on itself as I crushed her lips against her fine pearl teeth. I pulled her body hard against mine, violent as love gone mad. A hard electric buzz cut a Mohawk pattern from my mouth back over my head, then ran an ice chill thrill right down my spine, repulsion boiling off and leaving a cool vapor of sweet satisfaction.

Kim trailed three warm fingers down my tummy and between my legs, tickling me into a tight wound spring, legs clenched tight on her hand. "Let go," she murmured. "You have a long road ahead. Relax now."

I eased the grip of my thighs on her hand as she slid her fingers into my body, my hips bucking wild left and curly right, my lips curling my smile back for a rattling moan that made my teeth tickle the gums.

Okay, so -- when did I start loving me some girl?

I didn't know, but I did know I didn't want to stop any time soon. It was like rediscovering sex all over again, only this girl-girl sex was more like swimming with a dolphin than wrestling a lion. Slick smooth slips of palms trailed by tickling fingers, hot breath steaming sweet coo-coos into our ears, Kim and I turned all clocks to sand and wrote our own little dream. I shivered as I reached the point where the light inside bursts into stars, realizing for one long instant where my pleasure dangled over the tip of a blade, that to quit now was to let something die inside, but to push forward was to give birth to someone new in my skin. Someone inside who had taken what was beyond me and made it our own. One push and I was lost. I was reborn.

I pushed.

She pulled away.

No -- she was pulled away. Her eyes wide with shock, she gagged a bit as Stephens pulled her back by the metal collar as if she was nothing more than a bitch in heat. He stared down at my nude, sweetly sweating body with a lust whose vulgarity was insultingly intended to piss me off.

The shock that hit me would have taken me completely out of the hot little envelope in which I kept writhing thanks to the reinforcement on my system of the dope. I felt chilled, then hot, then chills again ran over me, a battle for every pore of my skin, open, closed, open, as waves of humiliation and need raced over me.

"Beg," he said, shaking Kim's head by the collar a bit as she reached her small hands up, grasping at his grip, her eyes screwed tight, one tear running down her cheek. Her breasts were still covered in a sheet of blooded flamed skin, her little nipples pert and stiff.

"Fu ..." I twisted a bit on the bed. "Fuck you."

I blinked, trying to turn lust into fury or fear, but all that burned in me was the primordial demand that I bond right now with my lover's body.

Now.

Kim's expression changed, her face going taut, chin tilted back, and from her squirms and what I could see of Stephens activity I realized he was shoving -- something -- into her ass. She mewled as it slipped in, gasped when Stephens punctuated his move with a little slap on her ass.

"No reason to leave you on your own, Kim," he said. "I think that should set you right again."

Kim licked a bead of sweat off the tip of her nose, her eyebrows arched over lightly closed eyes that fluttered with the fire of pleasure fucking pain to rest. "Thank you," she rasped, "master."

I closed my eyes so I wouldn't have to see Stephens' smirk, my hips twisting and bucking, and snaked one hand to my pussy lips. I was surprised he gave me that relief, then realized it wasn't relief at all. I only stoked the fires hotter, without killing the need to bond. With Kim.

Now.

"All you have to do," he said soothingly, "is beg for what you want." With that, he let go of her collar, and poor little Kim landed on top of me without ceremony but plenty of need of her own.

Grace was damned as we scrabbled our bodies together with a clash of arms and legs. I was aware that Stephens helped moved us into joined commas describing the number 69, aware that his hands kept roaming over my ass and legs and back and tits and I did not care, not one whit -- it simply didn't matter. All that mattered was a rush a fever, tongues and fingers plunging wildly between swollen wetness, then two violent catches of breath, and then the starburst flood of pleasure that set both Kim and myself into a writhing wound-down that landed us in a pool of our sweat, drowsy but teasing each other lightly with fingernails and whisper kisses.

I could have stayed in that haze forever, but Stephens gave me two minutes, tops. Then he barked an order in Mandarin, and shadows in the corner became a single uniformed guard who picked Kim up in his arms. She lay supple and surrendered, her head on his chest, arms around his neck.

"I'll want her tonight," Stephens said in English. "Go clean her up and chain her by the neck to my bed. Pop another hot-shot in her ass and leave her there." I closed my eyes and heard them move away.

Then Stephens grabbed my chin. He smeared something wet and sticky against my lips, and before I could take a breath he crushed my mouth with his, a savage's kiss that left my lips feeling pulpy and raw as he drew back, first shoving some of the wet sticky into my mouth with his tongue that he drew back, flickering at my lips, then swallowed into his grin.

He held up the shallow cup to show me a dark red mash within. "Blood," he said. "Chuang." He raised his eyebrows slowly, mocking me. "You did want him dead, didn't you?" He took my chin, forcefully turning my head, and whispered into my ear, "Here, wishes become reality. What scares you right now is that you're having to face the reality of what wishes you've always had."

"What have I done?" I muttered. I was supposed to be the trusted congressional aide to the man who represented moral rectitude for true Americans! But what was I, in fact? A wanton libertine? A pervert?

Maybe even a Democrat?

Oh my God! Had I become a ... liberal?

I knew how those people behaved. I'd seen all the campaign ads my boss' church had paid for on his behalf. Had I sunk that low? Was I now a cowardly gay socialist treasonous liberal Democrat out to destroy the moral fabric of our society?

But then, this wasn't our society I was in. I shoved myself up against the wall, rubbing at my forehead. That was the point, wasn't it? Here I wasn't judged by the same rules. Oh, I was judged, but by very different rules, indeed.

I rubbed at my arms, hugged myself tightly, face pressed down into the swell of my own breasts. Here I'd been led, let myself or by force, it didn't even matter, did it? I'd had sex with another woman, something I'd never have thought possible. I wasn't who I thought I was, not here, at least. I wondered who I really was, and then I got it.

Here I was what they made me.

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bumd11bumd11over 13 years ago

This series of stories has some of the most beautiful writing on this site. Coupled with the quietly brutal subject matter, it is like a brilliant colored deadly snake. Very satisfying. I am sorry the author hasn't posted any more stories.

AnonymousAnonymousalmost 16 years ago
Waiting On The Next Chapter

This series has been truly hot so far! I can't wait for the next chapter of Rogue State. Please post the follow up soon!!

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