ROMANCE! A Heart-warming Tale of Family Values and Filial Affection! By Llabmik Author's Note A few of you perverts may recognize Dr. Chan from one of my other stories, A Tale Of Chinese Torment. This, in case you missed it, was my typical meandering tale of hideous horror, sexual torment and gruesome Grand Guignol. Originally, Dr. Chan figured prominently in it. I had to cut out all of the chapters set in his wonderful Blushing Blossom Counselling Centre as they didn't go well with the rest of the story (not gruesome enough). Once I had separated these chapters from the Twisted Tale of Torment (my habitual genre, I've never written anything else), I experienced a supreme shock. With trembling hands, I realized that I had produced a Romance! This is an incredible stretch for a writer with my track record. Romance! The most widely read literary genre of all time, stunningly popular, a sure cash cow and read almost exclusively by women! I couldn't believe it! Wow! The big time at last! Well, sure, the story features a strong blend of torture, humiliation, psycho-sexual degradation, water sports, bestiality, sexual abuse and toilet training, but all relationships have their little problems, don't they? Without conflict, there can be no story! What makes it a Romance is that all the women end up ecstatically, multi-orgasmically happy and deeply committed to at least one hard-humping relationship - every last one of them. What could be more Romantic? To see how a middle aged pervert writer finds Romance at last, read on, gentle reader...
Chapter 1 - A Visit To The Psychiatrist Dr. Chan listened carefully. A high ranking Minister in the Glorious Communist People's Republic of China (whew!), the man on the couch had serious family problems. It was the same sad story re-enacted with pathetic, disheartening regularity world-wide. His wife of many years no longer loved and respected him. She had turned into a sharp tongued shrew, instead of the warmly supportive woman he craved. A man in his position desperately needed the right sort of wife to get ahead and she was letting him down badly. A divorce was messy and could be a political disaster (and everything is politics in a Communist country). His teenage daughter was always defying and belittling him. She sided with her mom, and occasionally outdid her, in denigrating, sarcastic verbal abuse of her over-achieving father. This confused and disheartened The Minister. Everyone else respected and, indeed, feared him. Why couldn't his own family? The Minister sat up and looked earnestly at the learned Doctor Chan of the famed Blushing Blossom Counselling Centre. "My sad and sorry home life is interfering with my work for the Party. It's damaging my career and hurting my efforts to accomplish the ultimate goal of Communist World Domination!" Dr. Chan nodded sagely and sympathetically. He had heard it all before, a very familiar tale of woe. The Minister spoke desperately. "Can you help me, Doctor?" Dr. Chan steepled his hands and looked thoughtful. "Are your wife and daughter in good health?" The Minister nodded and spoke sadly. "They are in excellent health and have years (decades even!) of pestilential paternal torment left in them! What's a man to do?" Dr. Chan laughed merrily and clapped the Minister on the back. "No problem! Send the bitches to me! I'll sharpen them up!"
Chapter 2 - Field Work The Master Torturer, Master Wong, was doing some field work, away from his beloved dungeons and soundproof cells. It was very late at night. The pretty tour guide was on her knees in the deserted parking garage with her back to a pillar. Her wrists and crossed ankles were tied together behind her on the other side of the pillar. Master Wong patted her on the head affectionately. She looked up at him in deep dread. "You've been a very naughty girl." He put his black medical bag down, opened it and withdrew a squirt bottle of vinegar. "Tell me about your activities for the C.I.A." The pretty tour guide shook her head and spoke words that to Master Wong were very familiar and, yet, always mistaken. "I know nothing! Honest!" Master Wong sighed theatrically. He inserted the nozzle of the squirt bottle up the pretty tour guide's nostril and squeezed. Her sinuses exploded as the vinegar ate into them. The pretty tour guided choked, coughed and gave out small whimpering cries as she tried to clear the burning vinegar from her achingly inflamed sinus membranes. Her head pounded in anguish. Master Wong spoke in a kindly, but firm tone, as though to an erring child. "All you have to do is tell me all about your C.I.A. involvement." Master Wong's eyes twinkled kindly, exuding compassion. "Once we get past this, I've arranged sponsorship for you at the Blushing Blossom Counselling Centre. Once you've told me what I want to know, you will be sent to Blushing Blossom for rehabilitation. Believe me you will come out of it, physically completely intact, but, mentally, a completely changed woman!" Master Wong was so kind that he didn't even mention that her sponsor was a gross pig of a Propaganda Officer, the Party's man at the Tourist Bureau that the lovely tour guide worked out of. This was a man she privately referred to as a vomitous shit-licker. She would be in his tender loving care after her rehabilitation. "I know nothing!" He inserted the squirt bottle and sprayed vinegar up her other nostril. The pretty tour guide blubbered hysterically as every sinus cavity she had was pulsating in pain. He withdrew a Q-tip and a pair of tweezers from his black medical bag. The pretty tour guide paid no attention, gripped totally by the ultimate in pounding sinus headaches. Master Wong was a sensitive man, deeply into relationships. He firmly believed that the most intense relationship of all was the excruciatingly intimate one between a torturer and his sobbing victim. Achieving a confession for a man sensitive to his victim's needs was simple. It was all a matter of a flexible, responsive technique. His pretty victim had been softened up. It was time to move it up a notch. He squirted a small quantity of vinegar onto the Q-tip. With the tweezers, he peeled back the pretty tour guide's eyelid and began swabbing vinegar onto her eyeball. The pretty tour guide shreiked shrilly as the new pain was layered on to her existing anguish, pushing her skilfully beyond her ability to resist. As a woman will, she opened up to a knowing, sensitive man and began telling him all. "I'm to meet these two blond Americans on my next tour, a mother and a daughter, named Lynn and Amber. I don't know their last names. As I guide them around the sights of China for the next two months, they collect information from various operatives and sympathisers and bring it back with them to the Unites States. They are very beautiful, so no one questions them at the border as they leave and flirt with the customs officials. I'm told that they are quite skilful smugglers." Master Wong smiled and made a small request as he untied his sobbing victim with the teary, tightly shut eyes and running nose. Badly shaken and completely broken, the pretty tour guide stripped naked, bent over and opened her heinie hole to his stiff sausage, as a token of her esteem for such a sensitive, caring man.
Chapter 3 - Selling The Program The Minister spoke patiently. "It's a mandatory program. The immediate family of High Ranking Officials have to attend. It's given at a fabulous resort equipped with every luxury. It's supposed to help you handle the stresses and pressures unique to families of High Ranking Party Members." His wife looked at him sourly. "Well, living with you is stressful enough!" She looked thoughtful. "Given in a resort, eh?" She eyed him suspiciously. "This isn't another rah rah, hooray for The Party, piece of crapola, is it?" The Minister was inwardly horrified (the wall have ears on occasion, even at his level). Outwardly, he was reassuring. "No! No! It's just a few hours a day of classes and sharing experiences with the other women in the morning. Then you can enjoy the facilities for the rest of the day. There's a beach, all sorts of sports facilities, a beauty spa, free make-overs, concerts and plays in the evening." He produced the brochure that Dr. Chan had supplied him with. "See! This doesn't look so bad! It's more a perq for being related to me." His daughter rolled her eyes at this, while his wife snorted derisively. They both looked at the extremely attractive brouchure, however. "Free make-overs!" "A beauty spa!" His wife narrowed her eyes to slits and glared at him fiercely. "OK, but if this turns out to be one of those stupid, lame, Party propaganda efforts, I'll make you wish you were never born! You think you have it tough now? If I'm not totally satisfied with this, you'll be eating shit for the rest of your miserable life! Clear?" The Minister swallowed hard and nodded. "It's perfectly clear, my dear. Don't worry, you will never complain about having taken this trip!"
Chapter 4 - Mother and Daughter in True Confessions The Master Torturer considered the American spy carefully. Recently captured, both mother and daughter loudly protestedtheir innocence. They had been turned over to him for a quick and complete confession. Master Wong had chosen to work with the mother as she would likely know more, breaking Lynn first would yield the most information, perhaps all he needed. He would get to the delectable Amber afterwards. The lovely blond was still dressed in the clothing she had been wearing when captured. Her white silk blouse, blue knee-length skirt, stockings and black high heels made a fetching ensemble. He had secured her to a heavy wooden chair strongly resembling an electric chair. She was clamped to the chair by ankle cuffs, a waist strap, a chest strap, a studded leather collar and a strap across her forehead, all cinched tight. Her forearms were strapped snugly to the arms of the chair. The chair was bolted to the floor. Lovely Lynn was going nowhere. She looked up at Master Wong anxiously. "Look, do you speak English? I can tell you nothing. I know nothing. This is all a terrible mistake!" The soft spoken Master Wong smiled pleasantly and chided her gently. "It would be pointless to have someone who didn't speak English interrogate you! We know far more than you suspect. Playing dumb bunny won't work. Just tell me what you know and you will avoid a lot of unnecessary pain and suffering." A skilful actress, Lynn gave him her best 'little girl lost' look. "But I know nothing! It's all a mistake! If you mangle and disfigure me it will all be for nothing and very bad publicity for your country!"" She looked at him with beguiling helplessness. Unfortunately for her, this brought out all the wrong Wong instincts. He spoke reassuringly. "Don't worry about being mangled or disfigured. I will leave no lasting marks. It will all be over very quickly and you will be eager to tell me all." He knew that this would encourage Lynn to resist, thinking that all she had to do was tough it out for a little while and she'd be home free. She looked at him defiantly. "I know nothing! You can't make me tell what I don't know." The Master Torturer corrected her gently. "You will soon tell me things that only the truly guilty could know." Lynn snorted derisively. "Not possible!" Master Wong selected a long, sharp pin. Lynn felt pretty sure that she could stand having pins jabbed into her. She steeled herself while Master Wong explained. "This is sort of reverse acupuncture. There are nerve centres in the body that, when jabbed, can produce the most excruciating pain. The one I will be working with is in your face. Your American Mafia know of this one. They sometimes crudely probe a vicitim's face for this nerve centre using an ice pick." Lynn braced herself for what seemed to her to be oriental bullshit. Master Wong looked at Lynn affectionately. "Unlike your Mafia, I am highly skilled. I know exactly where to insert the needle." He stroked her cheek, carefully feeling for the correct spot. Without hesitation, he jabbed in the needle. Lovely Lynn screamed shrilly and peed in her panties. Master Wong thoughtfully worked the needle. Lynn screamed higher and harder as the brain-piercing, white hot agony became the core of her existence. It felt like her face was melting, being eaten away by a searing flame. He kept her screaming in anguish a good long time, unable to formulate a coherent thought while the fierce, fiery pain possessed her. At last, he removed the needle. The right side of Lynn's face was completely slack and paralysed. Her right eye was rolled upwards and her right eyelid was twitching. It would wear off in a while, but for now she could only speak out of the left side of her mouth. The right side was slack and drooling. Master Wong gently wiped the drool from her chin and listened to her lisping confession. After she had told him everything and they had gone over it painstakingly a few times, he released her from the chair and made a simple request. She didn't even bother asking about other options. Completely broken, Lynn was totally compliant. She stripped off her clothes and daintily stepped out of her urine-soaked underwear, gloriously naked and, yes, she was a natural blond. Humbly, she bent over and opened her rectum to his greased weiner.
Chapter 5 - Fresh Meat "Behold, our latest arrivals, student protesters fresh from Tianenmen Square. Unwittingly, these students have just signed up for our Female Re-education course. Of course, to be admitted to the Blushing Blossom Centre, each of these lovely young women must have a sponsor, a trusted Party member to report to when they are released, someone who will supervise them closely and guide them intimately." Dr. Chan gestured at the row of naked co-eds, each floating in her own glass sensory-deprivation tank. Tethered spread-eagled, their young faces completely covered by the breathing masks, blinders and earmuffs, each was completely shut out from the world. Protruding obscenely from between parted thighs, thin tubes drained their bladders and other, thicker tubes were inserted anally to flush their young bowels of any accumulated nastiness. A thick vaginal plug had been inserted to seal any menstrual ugliness in. It also gave each beauty a none-too-subtle forewarning of things to come after her days in the tank. Deprived of all sensation and denied any human contact, they floated helplessly. A plasma drip taped to the crook of the elbow provided tasteless nutrition. The tour group could see the throats of several of the naked beauties working as they screamed silently in their tanks. Dr. Chan smiled. "This is the first step. It's quite traumatic and claustrophobic for the new arrivals. They are sedated and wake up sightless and deaf, floating helplessly in an eerie, inhuman world. The only sound is their own screams and even that is distant and scary. They soon stop. The water is heated to body temperature, blood heat, so they feel nothing. It drains them of all energy. Days of sensory deprivation wipes their minds clean, like a blackboard being cleared for the next lesson. Of course, the drip contains a cocktail of mind-melting designer drugs carefully combined to maximize the terror and trauma. Even the haughtiest, snottiest bitches are totally wiped and, emotionally, rendered deeply vulnerable. All are pathetically eager for reassurance and human contact when they are removed from the tank." Enquiring minds wanted to know. "How do you keep their skin from shrivelling up like prunes?" Everyone loved watching the naked bitches float helplessly on display for everyone to see. The tour groups of the Party Faithful were always curious about the details of their degradation. Dr. Chan cleared his throat, always happy to explain his life's work. "Why don't they shrivel up? An excellent question! The water contains oils to lubricate. We can't keep them in the tank for more than a week. After a long time in the tank with no exercise, they deteriorate physically. As it is, when we take them out, they are as weak as newborn kittens and quite easily handled." "How do you know when to take them out? It must vary a bit from subject to subject." "Another excellent question! It's hard to see under the breathing masks, blindfolds and earmuffs, but electrodes monitor their brainwave patterns. We have discovered the precise pattern that tells us the exact moment when they are most suggestible and ready for the next step which, as you will soon see, is quite strenuous. It does, as you say, vary from female to female. If we leave them gibbering claustophobically in the tanks too long, they are rendered permanently insane. A very astute question indeed!" Dr. Chan was always flattering to the Party Officials who funded his delightful program. Some of them took the tour regularly. Dr. Chan suspected that it was to see nude, nubile, fresh meat being brutally tenderized, but was too tactful to say so. After all, who was he to criticize? In the next room, a private one for the bigwigs, The Minister watched his wife and daughter float naked in their tanks. His wife had just given up screaming. A tough, strong-willed, bitterly sarcastic woman, she had screamed for a lot longer than his daughter. His teenage daughter had surrendered to the mind-wiping experience almost immediately. His wife was a very different story. He had enjoyed watching the old bitch scream her lungs out silently behind the glass. It had done his heart good to see her slowly, reluctantly give up and cave in to the mind-numbing horror of pure nothingness. In a wonderfully symbolic moment, the clear plastic tubing between her legs quietly, and quite visibly, pumped the shit and piss out of her. Stepping in briefly to pay his respects while the tour took refreshments, Dr. Chan was deeply gratified by The Minister's smug smirk. The healing had begun.
Chapter 6 - Noosed! Master Wong, the Master Torturer, liked changing the decor in his office regularly. Today, his office had a brand new adornment. In the centre of the room, the daughter of the celebrated mother-daughter American spy team, sweet honey-blond Amber, stood barefoot in her track suit. Her wrists were bound behind her back. A wire noose was snugged around her throat. Master Wong, the Master Torturer, cranked up the noose until lovely Amber was up on her tiptoes. Master Wong liked a woman with shapely feet. The American spy's small feet, with their pretty painted toenails, were perfect as they arched up to take her weight. Amber's baby blues bulged as the strangling wire bit into her throat. "What do you want?" Master Wong raised a warning finger to his lips, shushing her. "If you say one more word, I will crank you up so that your feet leave the ground completely!" He sat down at his desk and began to write a report on the interrogation of her mother. Lovely Amber was in superb physical condition. It was a while before she began making the small strangling, gasping, choking noises that indicated that her calf muscles were cramping up and giving out. Master Wong looked up expectantly. The sight of Amber's congested purple face, her bulging bloodshot eyes and her wet, pink tongue just starting to protrude, warmed the the old torturer's heart and his lower regions as well. He stepped over to his victim. The pain of her aching, cramping calf muscles was etched onto her gasping, plum coloured features. A wide circle of sweat stained her tracksuit around each armpit and the small of her back as well. Her tight, quivering buttocks and the backs of her trembling thighs were sweating nicely too. Master Wong breathed deeply, savouring the sharp, pungent odour of her fear-sweat. The front of her top had an oversize zipper down it, just begging a man to unzip her and grope the goodies. Master Wong smiled pleasantly. "Your mother told us everything we wanted to know, so you have nothing further to offer in that department. What I want from you will be very different. You may speak now." Poor, strangling Amber then choked out the classic words that are dear to any torturer's heart. "I'll do anything you want! Anything at all!" Master Wong nodded agreeably. "Would you like me to unzip your top so you can show me the goodies?" As a university student, cheerleader and international spy, young Amber was a sexually knowledgeable young woman. "Absolutely! I'd love to show you the goodies! Maybe afterwards you could let me down and I could do a bit more for you? I'll give you a blowjob, a handjob, whatever you want. I'm very flexible and athletic. I know lots of great positions." Master Wong smiled, a very happy man indeed. Life can be extremely kind to a man who has made a wise career choice. "Being let down is a privilege that must be earned, though you're making an excellent start!" Master Wong pulled on the oversize zipper. Amber turned out to be one of those brazen, well-endowed beauties that don't wear a bra. Pert pink nipples capped her quivering tits. Master Wong smiled appreciatively. He hooked a finger inside the waistband and pulled the front of her panties and sweatpants out. He peered down at the tuft of golden pubic hair. "Very nice! A natural blond, just like your extremely co-operative mother! Do you want to feel my hands inside your panties?" "There's nothing I would like better!" Master Wong slipped his hands inside and squeezed her firm young buttocks. He parted her tight buns and fingered her rectum. He dipped down the front, ran his hands through her fine pubic hair, delved deeper and felt along her slit. "Do you want me to pull down your panties?" "I would love you to pull down my panties!" He pulled them down to her slim ankles, noting her quivering, rock-hard calf muscles, knotted in agonizing cramps. Choking and strangling, her strength beginning to fail her completely, Amber then made him an offer he couldn't refuse. "If you let me down, I'll be able to spread my legs nice and wide. I'll even bend over and take it up the ass if you like!" Master Wong grinned broadly. "Do you think you could spread your legs and entertain some of my friends as well?" "I'd be delighted to entertain your friends!" He let her down and Amber delivered. Her bowels filled with his sperm, Master Wong trotted her down the hall to meet her new playmates. Amber looked in surprise at the two leatherclad bull dykes with the oversized, ribbed dildoes strapped to their crotches. Master Wong gave them a joking little introduction. "Meet Bambi and Thumper. They don't speak any English, but what they want is obvious." Amber swallowed hard as the two oriental leather bitches surrounded her, one in front and one behind. Master Wong was encouraging. "You said that you would spread your legs nice and wide for my friends?" Amber took a deep breath and spread them. Her baby blue eyes widened as a greased over-size dildo penetrated her fuckhole more deeply than any man could and spread her cuntlips achingly wide. The ribs rasped her cunt as the leather bitch started a slow, steady, deep reaming pump. She opened her mouth to the bull dyke's questing tongue and squealed into the woman's mouth as her buttocks were parted and her burning asshole was opened impossibly wide... In a room down the hall, her mother, the lovely Lynn, gasped as the hard-faced guard penetrated her. Mindful of her promise to Master Wong to make sure that each of the guards came inside her and deeply fearful of the consequences of failure, Lynn wrapped her legs around the guard's body and locked her ankles behind him. She squeezed her thighs against the hard thrusting guard's sides to tighten her cunt and scrubbed her naked breasts against his thin, bare chest. She ran her hands over his body, groping and squeezing lewdly, as she snaked her tongue into his mouth. She knew that she and her daughter were to be shipped to something called the Blushing Blossom Centre but, in the meantime, they had to earn their keep at Master Wong's fine establishment.
Chapter 7 - Prepped For Pleasure The spectators looked down expectantly through the glass ceiling of the operating theatre to watch Doctor Chan work his surgical magic. The stainless steel operating table rose to a small bump in the middle so that any bodily fluids would drain outwards from the centre into the gutter that surrounded it. The naked female protester was strapped belly-down on the table. Her shapely legs were spread wide by the ankle cuffs. Another strap was cinched tight around her waist to hold her down. Her bare torso arched up from the table. Her chin rested on the top of a padded T-shaped bar. The head clamps were fastened to the bar and held her head securely for the operation. Her wrists were cuffed to either end of the T. The nude protestor was totally exposed. The audience could see it all. Her perfect nipples were erect with fear. Between her parted thighs, her small slit looked nice and tight. Her mouth was wrapped around an O-ring, really a short length of pipe strapped in place, with grooves in the top and bottom for her small, white teeth. The bottom of the pipe acted as a tongue depressor, preventing any meaningful comment from emerging from the patient. It also prevented her from swallowing her spit, so a steady dribble of drool ran from her mouth, oozed onto the table and drained into the surrounding gutter. The gag graciously allow her to scream, drool and vomit freely. Dr. Chan smiled up at the audience. He squeezed the bum of his patient reassuringly. "Don't worry, honey. This day will change your life and you'll be forever grateful to me!" The audience chuckled as the protester said something into her O-gag, presumably in the way of protest and outrage. It was hard to tell just what she was saying. It emerged from the gag as meaningless baby-talk babble. Nobody in the audience cared. Her protest and outrage would be a thing of the past after the operation. Dr. Chan was always delighted to explain this, the crux of his method. The rest was really just enjoyable window-dressing. He held up his gloved hands for silence and got it. "It is well known that the human brain brain possesses both pain and pleasure centres. After years of experimentation on political misfits like this stupid bimbo here, these have been mapped and can be reliably located in anybody. The technique is fairly straightforward. We hammer a small tube through the skull. We thread an electrode though the tube and guide it to the exact location of a pleasure or pain centre so that we can electrically stimulate it at will. We insert four electrodes: two to pleasure centres, two to pain centres. The second set of pain-pleasure electrodes is just back-up for the first set." He grinned at his horror stricken patient. "We use no anaesthetic as the brain has no pain receptors and can't directly feel pain at all. The skull has a small number of pain receptors so our patient will feel no more pain than a woman getting her ears pierced. Some of you people may worry that the skull will shatter if something is driven into it. That is what happens when you try to drive something into a cadaver's skull. It shatters. A living skull is very different. It's a lot like hammering a nail into wood, really. It's a technique that has been used on laboratory animals for years." He held up something that looked like a nail gun. "I have designed a special tool for punching the slim tubes through the skull. It's a lot like a nail gun delivering a very precise blow, with just enough force to seat the small tube flush with the surface of the skull. The nurse will shave four exactly placed small areas on the patient's head, each area a few centimetres wide. They will be completely masked by her hair after the operation." The specially trainined surgical nurse, smiling prettily for the audience, used a straight razor to shave four precise areas on the moaning patient's skull. "Now we drive in the tubes." Dr. Chan aimed the gun carefully. The nude patient squealed and flinched violently four times as he squeezed the trigger, planting a tube in each of the four places. A stream of urine ran down the table between her wide-spread legs and into the gutter. "Nothing to it! Now, we insert the electrodes. First the two pleasure electrodes." He carefully threaded the slim electrodes through the tubes. "It's easy to test if we have positioned them properly. We simply apply a small current to the electrode." He suited the action to the word. The protester's pupils dilated as she flushed brick red and moaned ecstatically. Her cuntlips were fully distended: wet, red and dripping for action. She shuddered, her naked body taut and straining in repeated mindless, pornerastic orgasm. The audience applauded enthusiastically. "Let's try the other pleasure electrode." He turned off the juice and the protester's body went limp. He flipped on the other electrode and she tightened once more in unbeatable orgasmic ecstacy. "Now we plant the pain electrodes." He suited the action to the word. "Now we test them." Twice, the sweating, nude protester jerked insanely, screamed impossibly high and shit herself. The nurse hosed her down after they were done. "Now, we cap the electrodes. Skin will grow over them and cover them completely. The amount of current needed is very small and is supplied through inductance." Applause rang out enthusiastically for Dr. Chan, a man who produced the most eager to please bitches in the world. It was definitely a miracle of modern science.
Chapter 8 - Father Knows Best The Minister fed his naked, squatting daughter his dick. She gave skull like a pro, licking and sucking just the way Daddy liked it. His wife had her once proud face buried in his butt crack, tonguing his rectum. Responding to his daughter's skilled ministrations, he unloaded quickly. His daughter gulped it down eagerly and licked him clean. His wife watched enviously as The Minister pulled out his daughter's remote control. The two buttons were coded to his fingerprints so nobody else could operate it. He pressed the button marked O. His daughter's pretty face went slack and she trembled in the grip of obscenely huge pleasure. He gave her a good blast and then removed his finger. His daughter was now wearing his favourite perfume, Eau De Cunt. He turned sternly to his wife. "It's time to inspect the quality of your house-cleaning." He spoke sweetly to his adoring daughter. "Put on your stockings and high heels and fetch the strap, honey. You're going to paddle mommy's bare bum if she's been bad." He had laid off the housekeeping staff. His wife was charged with keeping everything spick and span in return for the odd jolt of ultimate pleasure. The house gleamed. He inspected his wife with reluctant approval. Before her stay at the Blushing Blossom Counselling Centre, she had been a flabby, middle-aged matron who had let herself go physically. Now she exercised fanatically three hours a day, just because he had promised her a jolt a week if she did. Her body was tight and buff, the body of a woman twenty years younger. His wife was already wearing stockings, high heels and nothing else. She wasn't wearing any Eau De Cunt perfume because her husband kept her on short rations. He gave her enough to keep her motivated but no more than that. As a result, she bitterly regretted her former treatment of him. Her own daughter had called her a stupid cow because of it and her own daughter was right. As a direct result of her stupid, callous former treatment of him, her daughter slept with Daddy and she slept on the hard wooden floor beside the bed, listening to them fuck. The Loyal Daughter sauntered saucily in her high heels flicking the leather strap playfully, smirking like the trampy slut that Daddy loved her to be. She adored helping her Daddy, the master of the Big O, put her stupid mother through her paces. She sauntered behind Daddy while he put on the white glove and ran it over every likely surface. He finally hit paydirt on the top of a high door sill. He held his gloved finger up to his wife's disappointed face. There was dust on it. She had missed a spot. He smiled into her dismayed face. "Bend over, darling. Five strokes." His wife dutifully bent over,touching her lacquered fingernails to the toes of her carefully polished high heels. "We're going to have a little contest, sweetie-pie." He beckoned to his smirking daughter who was taking vicious looking practise swings with the leather strap. "I'll give you a taste of the Big O if you make her cry out." He turned to his wife. He slapped her playfully on the rump. "I'll give you a taste if you don't." He whispered something in his daughter's ear. She sniggered. Her normally naughty smirk grew very dirty indeed. She positioned herself carefully. Her years of private tennis lessons had given her a wicked swing. The first stroke connected with her bent over mother's buff buns with a sound like a pistol shot. Her mother's mouth opened, but she bit it off before any sound emerged. A bright red welt appeared. Daddy's smirking girl laid the second one exactly on top of the first. Her mother staggered forward with the force of the blow, biting her lips to keep it in. Her daughter laughed delightedly. "Mommy wants it bad, daddy." She laid the next two strokes on in rapid succession with a sound like two firecrackers exploding. Tears were streaming down her mother's face, but she was holding it in. Daddy's liitle girl winked saucily at daddy and sniggered at what was coming next. He ruffled his wife's head affectionately, something she used to hate, but now she said nothing, accepting it. He squatted down and cheerfully cupped her teary face in his hands. "For the last stroke, I want you to spread your legs nice and wide while your loving daughter shows you how effective all those golf lessons were. If you can accept it in complete silence, I will give you five whole minutes." She looked at him, her face twitching apprehensively. "I want eight minutes." He laughed delightedly. "I'll tell you what. If you can stay quiet, I'll give you five minutes. After that, regardless of what happens, if you bury your face in your multi-orgasmic daughter's muff and make her cum ten times, I''ll give you another two minutes." His wife's eyes glistened greedily, her naked hunger for the Big O reflected in the unholy lust in her face. He didn't need the pain button. Her greed for the Humungous Orgasm drove her relentlessly. It was the ultimate drug, once tasted, completely addictive. "Done!" With truly depraved eagerness, his wife spread her legs, her slit making a lewdly inviting target. Daddy's little girl took some brutally vicious practise swings and then stepped up to address the ball. Lining up her shot carefully, she drove the strap hard with the deceptively easy stroke of an experienced golf pro. The Minister watched as, with a sound like the crack of a small cannon, his obscenely positioned wife was lifted into the air, clamped both hands over her burning crotch and landed rolling on her back, panting hard but saying nothing. Her glistening eyes gleamed triumphantly as she stared hungrily at the remote control in his hands. She spoke, her voice coarse with lusty anticipation. "Gimme! Gimme!" With a good-natured laugh, he pressed the button and she was humming in unbelievable ecstacy. The daughter laughed as her drooling mother was bathed in Daddy's favourite Eau De Cunt perfume. She unzipped Daddy and reached playfully into his pants. She gave him her innocent little baby look as she stroked his very familiar cock with extremely experienced fingers. "Got some for me, Daddy?"
Chapter 9 - Graduation Exercise The mother-daughter team of American spies sat primly in their chairs flanking the podium on the stage while the learned Dr. Chan gave his demonstration-lecture to the hard-core sponsors of his patients, happy to show them the sort of fuckbeasts they would soon command. Lynn looked fetchingly demure in her severe, tailor-made business woman ensemble: below-the-knee navy blue skirt, white silk blouse, form-fitting navy blue jacket, sheer stockings and gleaming black high heels. Her daughter, Amber, looked totally ravishing in her cheerleader outfit. Both were classic full-figured, lightly tanned, California blonds. Each held an American flag in one hand and a picture of the President of the United States in the other. The captured American spies looked up at Dr. Chan with deep and total respect. Dr. Chan concluded his introductory speech. "So you see, gentlemen, we have come a long way from the crude, but effective brainwashing techniques of the fifties. A modern, carefully orchestrated program of alternating sensory deprivation and sensory overload, sleep deprivation, reward and punishment, supplemented by perception-altering medication, coupled with traumatic psycho-sexual abuse modalities and electroshock aversion therapies can produce dramatic and permanent results in very short order, but the real kicker is pain and pleasure centre control." Put like that, it hardly sounded simple, but Dr. Chan definitely produced results, as he was about to demonstrate dramatically. He gestured at the American beauties to his left and right. "These spies have only been in this clinic for only two months, but their minds have been molded completely. From being treacherous American spies to becoming Chinese counter-intelligence agents fanatically dedicated to the Chinese Communist cause is a complete reversal of their upbringing and training, but they have been changed absolutely and irrevocably. Courtesy of some deft impersonations on the tour, the C.I.A. knows nothing of their tragically aborted mission. Two months has been sufficient. We have arranged a clandestine trade of these two for their two twins at the end of the tour. The C.I.A. knows nothing as we return two undercover moles to them. Undercover moles who betrayed their whole China network or at least a large chunk of it! All very hush-hush. You didn't hear it from me!" The crowd of High Party Officials laughed genially. Dr. Chan's work in 'counselling' dissatisfied wives of High Party Officials was legendary. His ability to transform a disgruntled, highly critical harpy into a highly motivated, deeply committed, warmly supportive spouse had earned him the gratitude and respect of many Highly Placed Officials. The fact that these same women had been converted into sexually knowledgable, randy little fucktoys was a very welcome side-effect. It was time for the demonstration. Dr. Chan spoke dramatically into his microphone. "First, I would like to introduce a bevy of beautiful co-eds, eager to resume their education, deeply repentent of their stupid and malicious protest activites in Tianenmen Square, eager to study under the tutelage of you, their sponsors." The co-eds marched on-stage, each wearing an identical schoolgirl uniform: white blouse, pleated plaid skirt, navy blue kneesocks and black penny loafers. Each young beauty carried a bucket and each stopped next to her own gleaming stainless steel pole, slightly less than waist-high, projecting up from the floor. The tops of the two-inch wide poles were smoothly rounded. They were set in a semi-circle around Dr. Chan and the two blond Americans. "These girls have practised a little routine, symbolic of their eagerness to abandon their old, bad ways and embrace the brilliant, Communist future, of which they will be an integral part." He looked sternly at the former protesters. "These girls have been very bad." The semi-circle of coeds looked down at the floor, bowing their pretty heads humbly in deep shame. Dr. Chan spoke reprovingly, a headmaster rebuking errant children. "Take it off and assume the position, young ladies." Not too surprisingly, they all turned out to be the naughty sort of schoolgirl who didn't wear any underwear. They removed their blouses and skirts, folded them neatly and piled them on the floor. They stood, brazenly facing the audience, a yummy selection of prime pussy showing their sponsors exactly what they had to offer, clad only in kneesocks and penny loafers. In unison, they turned around and touched their toes. As taught, their shapely legs were slightly parted, so that their tight young cunts and assholes were nicely displayed to the smirking audience. After allowing a few moments for the audience to savour the delectable tableau, a row of soldiers marched on stage, each holding an enema kit. Each young beauty had her bowels flooded with warm soapy water. The soldiers marched offstage as the beautiful coeds stood, their nude bodies sweating, bare buttocks dimpled prettily, their rectums clamped tightly shut, desperation visible on their pinched faces as each struggled hard to hold it in. Dr. Chan took his time, speaking slowly and dramatically. "Each of these young ladies has been symbolically filled with the poisonous ideas of Capitalism and Free Enterprise. Note that this doesn't make them truly happy, quite the reverse. Each is desperate for relief, but is too proud to admit that they are quite literally full of shit." The audience loved it. They applauded enthusiastically as the pretty coeds danced desperately on stage, bare tits bouncing, red-faced, wide-eyed, their small fists clenched tightly, straining mightily to hold it in. As several of them began to lose the struggle, a small brown trickle running down the backs of their thighs, Dr. Chan, at last, relented. "They come to my clinic and are purged! Shit squat over your buckets, ladies! Show the audience what Capitalism and Free Enterprise are truly like." Several of the girls sobbed gratefully at being given the opportunity to shit in front of a large audience. They all quickly spread their legs wide and squatted down. Warm, runny shit squirted thunderously from between beautifully rounded assglobes. The relief was tremendous. Soon they were all crying and sobbing. Dr. Chan waited patiently as they voided themselves completely. "OK! Wipe your bums, ladies, and put the covers on your buckets." The soldiers came, handed each beauty a roll of toilet paper and a bucket cover. The squatting girls wiped themselves clean, tossed in the used toilet paper and snapped the covers on their buckets. The grinning soldiers removed the buckets from the stage. Dr. Chan continued his wonderful tableau. "The young ladies are purged of evil, but they are far from done! They must embrace the future, symbolized by the shiny pole next to them. They must become one with the future!" The audience sniggered expectantly. The glistening poles had been well oiled. The young ladies had been carefully and exhaustively rehearsed. Unlike The Minister, Dr. Chan believed in both reward and punishment. The young lovelies had both screamed in agony and gibbered in drooling, dribbling ecstacy. They placed their hands behind their heads and arched their backs dramatically, showing off what a fine pair of full melons each possesed. Being Chinese, they tended to be honeydew melons rather than watermelons, but on the other hand, they had nothing to be ashamed of. Each straddled her pole and lowered herself carefully, inserting the pole between their cuntlips and squatting down, impaling herself neatly. They squatted down until their slits were resting against a small crossbar set lower down in the pole. Dr. Chan helpfully explained. "Each of our repentant protesters has been carefully measured. The crossbar represents the maximum possible penetration of her vaginal passage. Six inches above the crossbar is a black ring. The young ladies feel this as a bump in the pole. They will now squat fuck the pole, riding up and down the full six inches from crossbar to black ring. Their squat fucking is symbolic of how they shamelessly and brazenly embrace the future." The coeds began pumping up and down in unison, moaning prettily with each thrust of the pole. The black ring appeared and then disappeared between their legs as it was swallowed and buried deep inside a tightly stretched cunt. They squat fucked the poles shamelessly, giving every appearance of wanton enjoyment. This continued for an appreciable length of time to a continuous ripple of applause and a murmer of deep approval from the crowd. Dr. Chan clapped his hands commandingly. "OK, ladies. Go all the way down and stay down while our mother and daughter team of American blonds give a demonstration of THEIR total obedience and eagerness to please." The young beauties impaled themselves fully and smiled prettily in a semi-circle around the blonds, who were sitting primly with their hands folded demurely in their laps. Dr. Chan smiled warmly at the mother. Lynn smiled back radiantly. "Lynn, step forward and take off your clothes. Strip down to your stockings and high heels. Show the gentlemen what you have to offer." Completely broken and trained to complete obedience, Lynn stepped forward without hesitation. She peeled off her jacket, blouse and skirt. She folded her clothing neatly over the back of her chair. Her black lace bra and silk panties joined them. "Stand with your legs spread and put your hands behind your head, Lynn. All the goodies should be nicely on display for our distinguished audience." Her big breasts lifted enchantingly as she put her hands behind her her head. The tuft of silken hair between her legs proclaimed her a natural blond as she stepped to the edge of the stage and spread 'em wide, exhibiting herself shamelessly. "Amber, it's your turn to join your mother. Strip down to your white socks and running shoes." Lovely Amber peeled with alacrity. The buxom cheerleader was soon standing next to her mother, legs spread wide, at the edge of the stage, brazenly displaying her goodies to a deeply appreciative crowd. Each possessed the same classy chassis: above and below, from pert pink nipples to pouty cuntlips, the two high-breasted beauties were superb, totally fuckworthy females. "Ladies, fetch your country's flag, place it on the stage and squat over it." Amber and Lynn were soon squatting over their beloved Stars and Bars. "Pee!" They opened their bladders and committed one of the most shameful, depraved acts that an American citizen could possibly commit: peeing on their beloved red, white and blue flag. The audience was deeply impressed and somewhat shocked. This was powerful training and discipline indeed. "Stop!" Obediently, the two squatting lovelies squeezed it shut and the yellow rain ceased. "Fetch the picture of the President of the United States. Put the picture on the floor, turn your back to the audience and squat over the picture." Amber and Lynn each fetched a picture and proceeded to commit perhaps the second most heinous act an American citizen could commit. "Shit!" Without hesitation, the two squatting beauties began straining to excrete. Thick brown snakes were extruded from their wrinkled rectums. Soon, each had shamelessly deposited a large, steaming turd on the smiling, slightly vapid face of the President while the stunned crowd watched, jaws agape. The audience was deeply impressed, knowing how much childhood training and education had to be wiped out to enable an American citizen to commit such a deeply repulsive and totally disgusting atrocity. These two women were truly beyond the pale, totally in thrall to Dr. Chan. "I want each of these women to further demonstrate their complete obedience. Lynn and Amber, kneel on the stage, put your finger down your throat and vomit up your last meal as completely as you can. I want to see the dry heaves to prove that there's nothing left in your stomachs. Keep at it until I tell you to stop." Amber and Lynn humbly dropped to their knees and began yorking up their last meal onto the stage. Soon it was all up. They continued, red-faced and retching hard. Their big breasts were shaking violently and their taut bare bellies were quivering delicately as their fingers continued to stimulate the powerful gag reflex. At last, Dr. Chan relented. "Stop!" The two American spies stopped gratefully. "Now, I want each to lick up the other's puke." The two beauties had been gang-banged, strangled and fucked over in every way imaginable as part of Dr. Chan's brutally ruthless training. There was no hesitation. They changed places and their wet pink tongues quickly slurped up every drop of the vile-smelling vomit. "Now we bring out the pigs." Two very large pigs were trotted out. "Lynn and Amber, you know what to do." They assumed the position, dropping to their hands and knees and spreading their legs invitingly. The well-trained porkers surged forward eagerly, glisteningly erect. A pig's penis is pencil thin, but very long indeed. The pigs effortlessly achieved full penetration, grunting and squealing happily . It was hard work, but Amber and Lynn did their best to look totally enchanted as they were pig-fucked while the audience watched, the squirming heads of the pig penises wiggling deep inside their cervixes. The big pigs humped hard. Just supporting the weight of the massive porkers was hard work. Drops of sweat flew from their nipples as their tits shook like jello. An ejaculating pig produces an amazing amount of cum. Amber and Lynn gasped and groaned as the pigs unloaded copiously inside them, sliming them thoroughly inside and out. They stood together once more, on the edge of the stage, shapely legs spread wide, rivers of piggy peckersnot running stickily down the inside of their thighs. It was very thick, glutinous stuff. It would be days before their cunts were clear of it. Dr. Chan smiled. He held up the master control switch. "Good work ladies and now for a small reward." He pressed the button and the auditorium was filled with the smells and sights of moaning, shamelessly rutting females. He removed his thumbs from the switch and had a stage full of naked beauties with big, stupid grins on their pretty, vapid faces. "OK! Stand up, Ladies. Everyone take a bow." The squatfuckers stood. Each pole came out with an audible pop. All the beauties were glistening with sweat, having humped hard under the hot lights. They bowed prettily and sauntered saucily offstage, bare bums twitching beguilingly. The American beauties went last, as befitted foreign scum. Dr. Chan smiled happily as the audience rose to its feet and gave him a standing ovation. They loved him. The man was a true monster of depravity, a real bitchbuster. He raised his hands for silence. "That ends the demo, the graduating exercise so to speak. All of you are invited to come back at any time for one of my regular tours. If you wish to see again how these remarkable results are accomplished, my secretary will be happy to arrange it. If any of you gentlemen would like to interview either of the blonds in private before we return them to their so-called intelligence agency, my secretary will handle the booking. Of course, back in the Excited States these fine counter-intelligence agents will be in the care of deeply beloved and respected handlers who will have the special remotes to reward and punish them as befits their performance in the field." He smiled cheerfully and cleared his throat, reluctant to part with his adoring fans. "The other young lovelies are anxious to make amends for their sorry, shameful behaviour in front of the eyes of the world at Tianenmen Square and have penitently offered to provide any service asked for by their esteemed sponsors, each of whom will have their own personal control, keyed to their fingerprints. From sullen, ungrateful, defiant bitches they have been transformed into perfect little fucktoys eager to show their gratitude to the country that raised them and, to you, the people who run it and make it all possible." The audience roared it's approval of this fine, patriotic sentiment. Several of them were eagerly looking forward to Communist World Domination so that they could get full access to a rich supply of California blonds and make them among the happiest women on earth. Author's Postscript Hmmm! On re-reading this, I find that, alas, I have missed the mark! This story has elements of a Romance (for example, all the men are jerks), but it is missing a pure-as-the-driven-snow, ultra-virtuous female lead with whom all those moist-eyed female readers can identify. This is, sadly, a fatal flaw! I think that I got over-excited because I didn't snuff or mangle anybody. Well, this tender-hearted story where everyone lives happily ever after seems to be only a temporary aberration. The story I am currently working on takes place in a Nazi Medical Experimentation Facility and there's not a happy ending anywhere in sight. It looks like the dementia is over and I'm back in the groove (whew!). If you have any comments, feel free to send them to me at Llabmik69@yahoo.com. Happy Humping!!!! Llabmik
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