Swathi's Ordeal Ch. 09

"Please... I need to pee," Sanjay begged desperately. Still tied to the chair, his underwear around his ankles, the cock which had recently been in his wife's ass now drooped, sated in one way but needy in another.

MJ and Zack were finishing up with Pooja, making sure that the beautiful 29-year-old's wrists were tied firmly enough to the headboard. Bound naked face-down, Pooja hardly stirred. Only her quiet sobbing indicated that she still breathed. Cum slid from her gaping asshole like a tiny avalanche.

"Shut up," MJ snarled to Sanjay. "You want to piss? What's stopping you? Go ahead and piss." He turned back to Zack. "Come on. Let's go see what Swathi is making us to eat." The two men also called out to Kip as they left. "Hurry up, Glasses. Get the Boss his money so we can get out of here."

Kip hated it when they called him 'Glasses.' The tech-savvy criminal's nickname was as predictable as it was cliche given the frames he wore. 'Why do I have to work alongside idiots with brains the size of pocket lint?' Kip thought darkly. He mumbled a few choice words at his companions as they vanished through the doorway.

Meanwhile, Pooja felt a mixture of relief and despair. She lay on the bed now, at last left alone by her abusers. She could feel the raw ache in her torn-up ass, anally raped twice in short succession. 'I have to get out of here,' she thought. 'I have to find a way.' That was easier said than done, though, and the hopeless feeling inside of her made it that much harder for her to think clearly. In the background, she now heard Kip swearing and muttering as he tried to locate and hack into a secret partitioned hard drive that didn't truly exist.

Kip caught her stealing a glance his way while he continued to ignore Sanjay's protests. "What are you looking at, slut? You want more attention? Don't worry, when I'm done here I'll give you a third ass-fuck, and it'll make MJ and Zack seem gentle by comparison.

"Please no!" Pooja whimpered. The Indian woman then shuddered, closed her eyes, and tried to sleep.

But Kip wasn't done with her. A cruel idea had sprouted in his head. "Actually, bitch, you can provide some entertainment while I keep working." He stormed over to the bed and began to untie the woman's wrists.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Pooja stammered. It was too much to hope that he would just let her go.

Once he'd untied her, he yanked her off the bed and threw her on the floor at Sanjay's feet.

"I don't feel like taking bitch-boy here to use the toilet, but you've got a decent mouth on you - a hole's a hole, right? So you'll be the next best thing."

Pooja's eyes widened in horror. She couldn't believe this was really happening. Her mind couldn't grasp the depravity of what her captor was demanding.

Kip now pointed at Sanjay's drooping shaft and testicles. "Listen up, slut. I want you sucking on those balls until poor Sanjay relieves himself. When he starts, I want you to open that mouth wide, aim his dick, and drink up as much of it as you can. Got it?"

Sanjay's face crumpled in disgust, a disgust that Pooja shared. She stared at her captor as if he was completely out of his mind.

SLAP. Kip's palm struck her across the cheek hard enough to startle her. She blinked and felt her jaw go numb for just a second. He then reached down and gave her right nipple a vigorous twist.

"AAY!" The lingering ache in her ass was now almost forgotten.

"Are you listening, cunt? WELL?"

"Y-yes I... I am," Pooja replied, horrified and lost. The naked woman leaned forward. Pressing her face against the seat of the chair, the beauty began to suck tenderly on the businessman's balls. Her gentle slurping filled the room as she smelled the odor of Sanjay's sweat. There was one saving grace to the deepening depravity Kip was subjecting her to though.

'My hands are free,' she thought. If she was going to try to escape, what if it was now or never?

MEANWHILE, DOWNSTAIRS...

"Get busy, slut. I'm hungry and I'm sure my men are too." Danny, the sadistic leader of their captors and the apparent victim of her husband' embezzlement scheme, now marched the naked Swathi into her own kitchen.

"I... I can make you and your men some sandwiches. Would that be okay, Master?" He nodded with approval as she remembered to say the magic word - master. Swathi's gaze flicked toward the knife set on the island's marble countertop in the center of the kitchen. She was so close to it now... all it would take was one quick grab and she could be gripping that butcher's knife in one fist.

"Better let me do the chopping," Danny warned. He slid between her and the knife holder, deflating her hopes. She dutifully pulled out three kinds of deli meat, lettuce, tomatoes, and onions.

"Do you have any bacon?"

The captive nodded. Swathi couldn't believe this was happening to her. She was naked in her own kitchen helping make her rapist and captor a delicious meal. Mechanically, the woman slid the tomatoes and onions to Danny to chop. Next, she took out the bacon, laid some strips of it on a paper towel on a plate, and threw it in the microwave. While the bacon cooked, Swathi took out slices of bread and put turkey, ham, and roast beef to make up the bulk of each sandwich.

As she was doing this, she realized that one of the other captors, Tommy, was sitting on the sofa watching them. The house's layout was open concept, with the kitchen spilling into the living room.

"How's that head, brother?" Danny called out as he finished chopping the tomatoes.

"Gonna be sore, but nothing I can't handle," Tommy replied. Just as he said that MJ and Zack came sauntering downstairs and plopped themselves onto the sofa to either side of their companion.

"What's for dinner, Boss?" Zack called.

"Sandwiches." Danny grinned. He had the knife he'd been using to cut the tomatoes gripped in one hand. Now he laid the flat of the blade across Swathi's left nipple. Swathi froze.

"And they better be damned TASTY sandwiches, right bitch?"

Swathi nodded. "They will be, Master. I promise." It took all her willpower not to stare fearfully at the blade poised against her breast, the cold metal pressed against her sensitive dark brown nub. Danny put the knife down momentarily, slid behind her, and reached around to cup both of her supple cones.

"Good, slave, because if you displease me I'd hate to have to cut off these nipples." As if to add emphasis to the threat, he gave each of her nipples a pinch.

"Please Master, you know I'll be good," she groaned. Twisting her head to the side, Swathi pressed her lips to his in an effort to defuse his cruelty. It worked. His hands relaxed, palming her breasts more gently now.

"Mmm. You're lucky I like the way you taste, slut. Keep giving up that fine pussy and you might just live to see tomorrow. All right, get back to work," he growled, pulling away as he gave her a slap on the ass.

Keeping her cool, she waited until Danny went back to cutting all the vegetables. Then she retrieved the bacon from the microwave and added that to the mix. Once all of the sandwiches were properly heaped with a variety of meats, lettuce, tomatoes, onions, and condiments, she put them on plates and proceeded to serve Tommy, MJ, and Zack on the couch.

Danny stayed standing by the island while she got their drink orders - four beers. Then she stood there, eyes downcast, awaiting Danny's next command. The contented sounds of the men munching and enjoying their meal drifted through the kitchen.

"Well done, slut, but you forgot to make something for yourself," Danny murmured in her ear. His arms slipped around her from behind. He draped his arms across the smoothness of her belly as if he owned her. "You know what, though, that's all right. In fact, you have better things to be doing - like entertaining your guests."

'Oh god, what does this sick bastard want me to do now?' Swathi thought.

"Sanjay always liked to brag about how you're such a talented exotic dancer. I think it's time you showed off those skills. I want to see that beautiful naked body writhing and twirling. Hmmm. Yes, let me turn on some music and you can give us a show, Swathi. Sound good?"

Knowing that there was only one right answer, Swathi's dull but obedient reply came back: "Yes, Master."

Moments later, the entertainment system blared with Latin music. The four men watched, crowded together on the couch, while the naked Indian woman danced before them. She moved her hips seductively, her arms elegant and poised as she slid with fluid grace from one pose to the next. Her wet hair, slicked back and shiny, seemed to enhance the allure of her demonstration as Swathi moved to the beat of the music. Her body spun and undulated, morphed by the melody like a puppet on a string. She thrust her breasts outward as she continued to improvise with an instinctual choreography all her own.

Jeers and catcalls from the men now showed their approval. Soon she could see four tall, blood-engorged cocks erupting from between four sets of legs, all saluting her performance. Her gorgeous figure had become a delight to her captors, reinvigorating a lust and depravity in them that seemed to know no bounds.

"I wish your husband could see you now, Swathi. You really are a whore!" Danny bellowed. Meanwhile, Swathi ate her pride and just tried to please these men. She turned her back to them now, bending over, wiggling her ass, taunting their lascivious gazes with her exposed pussy. Even now, though, her own gaze settled on the knife holder not far away. There was nothing between her and it. Just a mad dash and she could be there... she could at least get herself a weapon. But what good would a knife do her against four strong men? And what about their guns, which they'd left upstairs? There was no way she could get there before they did.

Crestfallen, Swathi was about to just continue her demeaning dance to the rhythm of the music when something unexpected happened. Something hopeful.

The doorbell rang.

End of Part 9. To Be Continued...