"AKILAH" - first of a new series!

Akilah was woken early that morning - well before the muezzin’s first call to prayer - by the rusty clicking of the lock as her husband unlocked the door to the tiny room where she slept – more of a cell, really, than a bedroom.  She had a sudden flash of anger at being gotten up early.  And at her husband, Farouq - a  slovenly, smelly, heavy-bellied middle-aged man who had taken her from her family - bought her, really - to be his wife.  To serve him all through the long days with shopping, cooking, cleaning, and giving him his food.  And to serve his other needs, of course.  She was actually his slave, but it was so normal that Akilah didn’t think of it that way.  It was just a woman’s lot.

He did not usually visit at this hour, preferring to do his business with her in the darkness.  But the girl knew what was expected, and turned sulkily onto her back, naked under the thin sheet, her breasts pushing it up in small mounds, mocking him with their childless fullness.

Risking a quick glance, she saw him standing next to the bed, staring at her, not naked as was his custom when visiting her in the night.  Her hands bunched into little fists, nails biting into her palms.  Squeezing her eyes tight, Akilah tried to relax, but her legs clenched together in nervous anticipation as he pulled the sheet off. 

He did not at once lie on her, however, and she nervously rearranged her hands, turning them palm up in the approved manner to indicate her complete submission to him.  For a minute he did nothing, and the silent girl could feel the sweat forming on her bare skin, itching and making her want to move, to wipe at it, but she held herself as motionless as she could, the model of a submissive wife, despite her trembling.  Let him examine her body.  Take stock of his property.  The round globes of flesh on her chest swayed heavily with her movements, and there was a different kind of itching at their tips.

She felt his weight on the bed, and then his hands on her thighs, squeezing them hard, his thumbs digging forcefully into the soft flesh of the insides.  She bit her lip, doing her best not to cry out or try to push his hands away, though her arms tensed.  

After some moments, as if he were merely testing her will, his hands slid slowly down her legs, past her knees, down her calves to her ankles.  There his hands tightened again, suddenly thrusting her legs apart.  Wide apart, her feet out past the edges of the bed.  Her eyes flew open, and she yelped, once, before getting control of herself, though she was breathing quickly and shakily. Still, he did not lie on her, though his hands held her legs spread obscenely spread.

“Keep your eyes shut, girl.”  His voice was even, but cold.  “Or do you want me to blindfold you again?”  

Once, when they were first married, her eyes had popped open in terror as he rutted her, and he had bound a scarf around and around her head, over her eyes, tighter and tighter until she felt her eyes were being squashed back into her head, the pain making her sob as her tears pooled in the fabric.  After he finished his business and was leaving the room, he had finally said, “You may remove it now.  But in the future, you will keep your eyes closed.  Do you understand?”  And she had.  Yet another of the growing number of things she must do in order to prove her subservience to him as a female.

Read more for FREE here!    http://smashwords.com/books/view/482435

My weekend

Just back from a nice weekend in the country with my Partner. To do some work, drink some wine, get closer ...

Not exactly. 

It was unreasonably hot, so I decided to stop and rest. My Partner gave me one of those looks and suggested that I take off my clothes and lie in the grass. Sounded good to me. Off with the tee and shorts (that’s all there was).

A minute later, though, there She was with a hatchet and some rope. Banging some pieces of wood into the ground, She proceeded to stretch me out and tie me spread eagled. When I complained, she took my kerchief and stuffed it in my mouth, then tied Hers over my face. To protect me from the sun, She said. MMMMMF! The rest of me, unprotected, began to sweat and burn. And my back itched from the damn grass. 

Seeing me writhing and grunting there. she came and tied a rope around my waste and into my - well, you know. As if that weren't enough, She took our big block and tackle - the one we use for lifting heavy equipment - hooked it through the ropes and began hauling. Pretty soon She had me arched up in the air with just my hands and feet touching the ground.  VERY uncomfortable! She let me hang there, squirming and pleading for a while. 

Now, the property has all these kind of bushy things with long, thin, whippy branches, and I could hear Her breaking some off. Didn't sound like it was easy to do, either. Then She started in, using them on my conveniently-located thighs and belly, not hard enough to raise serious welts, but not just a tickle, either. And I REALLY began writhing and squealing. After a bit of that, She began working on my teats, and I can tell you I was screaming and heaving for all I was worth. It would have been a LOT easier to do the damn work. 

After giving me three hard strokes - one on each thigh and one across my titties - I started blubbering.  After a while, she lowered me back down and untied the rope between my legs, but left me staked out and blindfolded.  

There was silence for a while, as if She had gone away, and as the sun began to set it got cooler. I got scared that She was going to leave me out there all night. But then I heard voices coming nearer, and realized She had rounded up a few of our neighbors.  And me helplessly naked.  Swoon!  

She bent over close to my head and whispered, "I'm gonna give you a nice rubbing, Tina, so you can let everyone see what a little slut you are."

I REALLY wanted to cum, but not with other people WATCHING, for God sake. Didn't matter what I wanted, though, and She started in on me.  I was so sensitive already that I could have let go right then, but embarrassment held me back.  For a while.  It's SO embarrassing to think what I must have looked like, writhing around on the grass.  At least my usual potty mouth was somewhat gagged.

Can’t wait for next weekend!

"The Sitter"

Enjoy!  Read more for free at www.smashwords.com/books/view/453756!

As I remember it, I was working on a new story that day.

It’s my eighteenth day - I think – it’s hard to tell time in here.

They take me out of my cell in the morning, and my heart is pounding fit to kill me.  Will I be the observer today?  Or the subject?  The only good thing about these little ‘trips’ is that they take off the belt around my waist – the one they always buckle so tight I can scarcely breath, and to which my wrists are shackled.  In back, of course, so I can’t hurt anybody when they come for me in the night.  Like I, a slip of a girl – and worn out with little sleep and lousy food - could fend off  three or four husky soldiers bent on having me. And with my ankles handcuffed to the sides of the “bed” to boot.   Well, I don’t want to think about that.  Maybe I have worse things to worry about.

When they bring me into the room – I resist calling it an interrogation room, or a torture cell -  the stench knots my stomach as usual.  You’d think I would be used to it by now, but I’m not.  It’s a vile mixture of vomit, shit, more or less dried blood and burnt flesh.  Don’t know how they stand it, either.  At least we’re equals in that.

As usual, there are two of those heavy metal chairs sitting facing each other.  I’m always first, so I can’t tell what the plan is.  Again as usual, I fight like crazy as they force me down into one of the chairs.  With my legs unchained I try and kick.  Sometimes I get lucky, and hurt someone.  Mostly I hurt my own toes.  They’re bare, of course, like the rest of me.

And let me say right here that, yes, they do take advantage of us.  Not the least compunction about pushing us up against a wall so they can do a “manual inspection”.  Or making us bend over one of the little pipe railings they have here and there, the four eyebolts in the floor with the old straps just waiting to restrain our ankles and wrists - so passing soldiers can unzip and use our raw holes.  I haven’t gotten used to that, either, but I try to have a kind of out of body experience when it’s happening.  The first time, I actually slapped the guy – just like I was back in high school!  But being lashed down to your bed spread out on your back while guys do whatever the fuck they want to your pussy and breasts with cigarettes and straps and shock batons made it not seem worth it somehow.

Oh, oh, today . . .

Right about there, the phone rang.  My partner answered it, gave me one of those “it’s for me” waves and disappearing into the other room so as not to bother me.  For a sadist, she’s really considerate sometimes.

“Asha Released” is out!

“Asha Released”

Copyright 2014 Tina B

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/436919

My wounds are healing slowly.

A while ago, I was asked to document what had happened to Asha (not her real name), a beautiful Indian woman who was tortured in a foreign land when she was only nineteen.  After some weeks of interviews, I wrote and sent a draft to Asha for review.  Hearing nothing back after several weeks, I drove to her house.  Only to find her gone.  Fearing that my draft had somehow been responsible, I nevertheless published it as “Asha has been Taken” – partly in the hope that someone would let me know that she was alright.

Subsequently, I received an email from a man who claimed to know where she was.  After some negotiation, I went to a foreign city to meet him.  He may well have known where she was, but I didn’t find her.  Because it turned out that he was one Asha’s torturers.  And he did to me some of the same things he did to her.  So that, as he said, I would truly know her story.  And how well I do, I think with a shudder.

When I walk, there is a tightness across my soles where they were seared with the thin wire whip.  And there is still a faint scar across my breasts where the same whip did its work, feeling like someone had cut me open with a dull knife.  My pussy . . . well.  

Bad as those were, they are healing.

The worst part, the hardest to get over, has been the rape.  I no longer really trust anyone, and feel a kind of hardness in me that wasn’t there before.  And I’m angry, deep down, tremendously angry, at the man who did it.  My publisher only says, “I told you not to go.”  As does my partner, to whom I am now cold, yet whom I very much cared about “before”.  I roam the house at loose ends, going over the whole nightmare again and again in my mind, trying to find a way, something I could have done, to make it come out differently.  To no avail.

I got the story, preserved on my recorder, thankfully, because I was in no condition to take notes.  So for a while I buried myself in writing that story, which was published as “Asha was Used.”  Perhaps you’ve read it.

And then the man I think of as my torturer emailed me again.  The bland message was innocuous enough: “When you’re ready, I will take you to her.”

My partner found me at the computer, nauseous and shivering, unable to move or even turn it off.  It was like being raped all over again.  

Several restless days later, there was another email.  “You can save her.”

Save her from what?  Was she in trouble?  If so, it seemed unlikely that I could help, other than to call an embassy.  Still, there was the anger.  I wanted someone to pay for what had happened to me. So I emailed back.  Negotiated terms, and set off again.  Without consulting my publisher.

This time I wasn’t tortured.  Oh no.  Not me.  It was worse.

A new story - "Rented"!

The sexy full-bodied black girl lay on her bed exhausted, tired in every muscle and hole, her throat raw from being forced to swallow their cocks, the soft meat of her thighs and ass and breasts flushed and burning from their spanking hands, her sex slit gaping and drooling, her asshole painfully stretched.

This was a hard way to pay your rent.  A very hard way.  And her landlord made sure of it, forcing Cherri to perform like a whore every month.  On the first of the month – or whenever he felt like it.

At first, it had just been him, surreptitiously slipping into her apartment when his wife was out of town, making her strip down to some hooker clothing he had gotten, show herself off, then taking her bent over a chair or splayed out on the bed, leaving her crying and sweaty when he was done.  It was terrible, but she’d had to put up with stuff like that from her stepfather when she was a girl.  She felt despoiled and filthy, but was otherwise unhurt.

But lately, things had been getting worse.  He was inviting some of his white cracker friends over to share her holes, and, aside from having to service more guys, some of them were getting rough  with her – holding her bent over the sofa so they could spank her big, soft ass and flailing thighs while she cried pitifully, or one of them holding her up with her arms twisted behind her, legs dangling, while another used her as a punching bag, his heavy fists beating into her soft belly and flattening her big breasts against her ribs until she sagged and choked and thrashed and screamed.

Today there must have been at least ten of them, and the “first round” had taken several hours - hours of humiliation and pain for the sweaty girl.  Hours of being forced to kneel and work her way around the circle of laughing men, their cocks hanging voraciously, always ready for more.  Her neck ached from having to throat their knobs vigorously or face yet another spanking on her already burning thighs.  

And there was more coming.

Get it at www.smashwords.com/books/view/452172

New short story "SELFIE"!

A big blond isn’t getting the sex she wants from men, so she takes matters into her own hands.  Or does she?

“SELFIE” - Read some for FREE at www.smashwords.com/books/view/443066

The first of a new series, “Tied Together Tales” - each with a twist!

The whole pitiless Asha trilogy is now available, with all its bondage and suffering women:

“Asha has been Taken” - www.smashwords.com/books/view/420206

“Asha was Used” - www.smashwords.com/books/view/431183

and now, “Asha Released” -  www.smashwords.com/books/view/436919

Hope you enjoy it!  As always, comments appreciated!

Kisses,

Slut Tina