“I would like to wear a blindfold, Miko. I can’t bear to look at him, those bulging eyes, that long, thin nose, his pockmarked skin, oh God...his cracked lips and the rotten stubs of his teeth. Miko, you’ve seen his horrible feet and I...I... got to my knees before him and ...and..., please let me be blindfolded, Miko, please.”
“No blindfold. Be careful what you say and do. Everything recorded on video. Abul and Madam Khe look at video, then send to Mr. Satomi. If you don’t show Abul respect and do what he say, maybe Mr. Satomi give you to Abul for rest of time on contract. Maybe Mr. Satomi bring your sister-in-law here and take her instead of you. Think about that.”
They seated Kathy at the makeup table and, after rubbing her body with scented oil, they applied dark mascara to her eyes and a very dark red lipstick to her mouth, which they then coated with the oily gloss. They dressed her in a white form-fitting satin evening gown and slipped her feet into white heels. “Abul wants you to look like rich American woman who comes to his quarters because she wants him...wants to make love with him.”
“Leaves husband at night so she can give herself to Abul because he is Master,” Mi Jong added. “Wishes to be more beautiful for Abul, more...more, how you say...more desirable than ever was for husband.”
Kathy looked at herself in the mirror. The gown shimmered. It clung to her body like a second skin. The neck dipped low, exposing the upper halves of her breasts. Her nipples pressing against the satin, were clearly visible. She appeared, as Mi Jong had expressed it, more beautiful, more desirable than she ever had before. “Oh, God,” she said, “I can’t do this, I can’t go to Abul...I can’t stand to look at him, can’t stand to have him touch me...he’s...he’s...so...”
“Be quiet,” Miko said. “Think about how you need to show respect. How you are going to give him pleasure. Think about what will happen if you don’t.”
Abul’s rooms were much like Madam Khe’s but not as ornate or as tastefully furnished. The walls were painted a rust color and hung with many full-length mirrors. Against one wall stood a long red velvet couch. In front of the couch was a mirrored coffee table. On either side of the table were large burgundy leather wingback chairs. Behind the couch was a narrow table on which were silver decanters and glasses. In the wall behind the couch and table was a huge fireplace. A fire was blazing in it. To the right stood a king-sized bed with an intricate wrought iron headboard and footboard. Wall sconces lit the room with a soft light. On the floor was a luxurious dark red carpet. Abul, wearing only a white silk dressing gown, was sitting in one of the leather chairs, a drink in his hand. Miko closed the door. Kathy wanted to throw herself against the oak planks of the door and scream.
“Come here, Mrs. Ryan,” Abul said. Slowly, she moved toward him but avoided looking directly at him. When she had approached within ten feet, he held up his hand to stop her. He spent several minutes looking at her. He took a long drink. His left hand lay in his crotch. He closed his fingers around his hardening cock. His bony face, thin lips, yellow teeth, and fierce black eyes caused her to bow her head. She couldn’t bear to look at him for long. He chuckled, “Tell me Mrs. Ryan, who is your Master here?”
Her head still bowed, Kathy murmured, “You are my Master.”
“Yes, I am your Master. You must never again forget that. The first time we met you made a big mistake. You believed you were the master and I was the servant.” His hands gripped the arms of the chair. He turned his head and spat on the floor. “You ordered me to leave your house. You threatened to call the police.” His voice rose and his face became red with anger. She thought instead of ordering him to leave her house she should have killed him.
The idea that she had to obey this ignorant, sadistic brute was incomprehensible. She was Kathy Ryan, for God’s sake. Abul was nothing. He continued to study her as he stroked his cock. “You have had an eventful evening, Mrs. Ryan. It is now night. You must be tired, but instead of sleeping in your own bed, you’ve come here to me. And you’ve gone to the trouble of dressing in a very revealing gown. I see that under it you are naked.” He smiled slightly mistaking her anger for embarrassment. “It’s obvious you have rubbed your body with oil. You’ve carefully painted your lips and eyes. Now you’ve come to my bedroom. Why did you do that? You must want something. Answer my questions first, then tell me what it is you want.”
She glanced at him and quickly lowered her eyes. It would not do to defy him. It was a case of submit or suffer. “I’m here because Miko...” she began.
“I don’t want to hear about Miko,” he said sternly.
She understood what he meant for her to say. “I...I...have tried to make myself look presentable...I mean desirable in order to please you because...because...” she couldn’t finish.
He scowled at her. “Your long nipples are pressing against your gown, Mrs. Ryan. I can see them from here. It’s a tight gown and cut low. You are wearing shoes with a very high heel. They shape your legs and lift your ass. Your red lips glisten, Mrs. Ryan. I suspect even though your ass cheeks are still burning from the whip, your cunt is wet...wet and hot. Am I not correct? I will ask one more time, what do you want?”
“Yes,” she spoke quietly, “you are correct. I still feel the pain of the whip, but...but my...my cunt is wet...it is hot and wet because I want to...to...serve you.” She lifted her head. His evil grinning face leered at her. He was ugly and vicious. She summoned all of her will in order to look at him. “I...I have tried to make myself acceptable to you. I am here to serve you.” Her mind was screaming, ‘I hate you! I hate you! You’re revolting!’
“Do you find your Master attractive? Does he excite you? Do you want to make love to him?”
She glanced at the small cameras near the ceiling. “Yes,” she said quietly.
“Ahhh, Mrs. Ryan, when are you going to learn how to answer questions I put to you?”
“Yes, Master,” she said, looking down at the floor, “I find you attractive and...and desirable. You excite me. I...I...would like to make love to you...to...to give myself to you.”
“Is that really true?” His eyes bore into her. “Perhaps it is the cream Miko rubs into your vagina that is making your nipples hard. Perhaps that’s what is making your breathing so fast. Maybe it’s the stimulating ointment that is causing the wetness between your legs and the need you are feeling in your hot cunt?” Kathy was silent. “Answer me, you American bitch!” Abul shouted.
Still not looking up, the color rising to her cheeks, Kathy stammered, “No...no...it is not the cream. It is you who excites me.” She thought,
‘it is the ointment that arouses me. It can’t be him, could never, ever be him.’
“You have stood there for several minutes and have not yet greeted me in the way that shows respect,” Abul moved his feet forward. Kathy saw that he still had not bathed. Except for where her mouth had touched him, his feet were dirty, his black toenails long and repulsive. “You have taken pains to paint your lips so as to emphasize their fullness. If I recall, they are soft and warm.” He sipped his drink and stared at her. His hand moved in his crotch. “I see you are trembling, Mrs. Ryan. It is because I’ve kept you waiting. I know what you want, Mrs. Ryan. I know why you’ve painted your mouth so provocatively. You want to kneel at your Master’s feet and demonstrate your respect. You are anxious to press your lips to them...anxious to taste. Isn’t that true, Mrs. Ryan?”
It was the fear of Swart’s whip that drove her to such a degrading act earlier. The fear of the whip coupled with the promise of another orgasm. Now, there was nothing except the cameras recording the scene for Satomi, and the thought of her sister-in-law Mary Margaret being brought to this horrible place.
“Speak up, Mrs. Ryan, and not with a retarded ‘yes’.”
“I wish to show you my respect in the accepted way.”
“On your knees, Mrs. Ryan. Crawl. I like to see the educated American woman crawl to me. I like knowing that she is going to bow down and kiss my feet. The high and mighty American woman is going to lower her head and press her lips to the feet of Abul. Yes, the thought of that pleases me.”
In the tight dress, Kathy had difficulty getting to her knees. Slowly she crawled toward Abul’s extended feet. When she reached him, she closed her eyes and with closed lips, touched her mouth to his left foot. “Not good enough,” he said. “Your tongue, Mrs. Ryan, your tongue.”
Again she bent down to his foot and, parting her lips, touched her tongue to it. Quickly she turned to his right foot and repeated her act of servitude. “It was not quite what you promised this afternoon, but I will forgive because we are alone. In the presence of others, Mrs. Ryan, what is the proper way?”
She closed her eyes, feeling a wave of nausea wash over her, “I...I...am to kiss between your first and second toe and to push my tongue between them,” she said.
“That is correct,” he replied. “See that you don’t forget.” He kept her kneeling for several minutes while looking down at her and stroking his cock. “It pleases me to see the rich, arrogant Mrs. Ryan here in my quarters naked under her gown. It pleases me to feel her lips on my feet.” He drained his glass and handed it to her. “It will please me to watch the woman who once ordered me out of her house get off her knees and hurry to serve me. Get up, Mrs. Ryan, quickly, and pour me another drink. You will find the liquor on the table behind the couch. Ice, a little water and bourbon. Quickly, Mrs. Ryan, run to serve me.”
Painfully, she stood and hurried as fast as she could in the heels. She made his drink as he had ordered. As she came around the table to hand it to him, he grabbed her. “I want you to drink it,” he said, pulling her down onto his lap. The stinging soreness of the welts she’d received made her gasp. He smiled. “I want you to sit here and drink it while I feel your tits.” He lifted her hand and held the drink to her lips. She drank. “Do you want me to feel your tits, Mrs. Ryan?”
Looking into the glass, she said, “Yes.” He squeezed her wrist. “I mean, yes, Master. I would like you to feel my...my breasts.” He ran both hands over the satin gown and cupped her breasts, rolling her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. She flinched and made a little sound.
“My friend, Narimov, would like to see his dwarf use the riding crop on your tits.” He pulled the gown off her shoulders and pushed it down to her waist. His large calloused hands kneaded her small breasts. He bent his head to take one of her distended nipples in his mouth. He bit it, causing her to cry out and try to stand. He held her on his lap and moved his face close to hers. She could smell his rancid breath and the brown stubs of his rotting teeth. His mouth was wet with spittle. His black heavy-lidded eyes burned into her. “The riding crop will mark them,” he said.
“Please, no,” she felt the tears well up. She knew it was no idle threat. He and Narimov had taken great pleasure in watching the dwarf whip her.
“I haven’t given him an answer. What I tell him will depend on how hard you try to please me tonight.”
“I will,” she whispered. “I’ll try...please let me try. But I beg you... not the whip. Not like that!”
“Finish your drink, Mrs. Ryan,” he said, watching her intently.
Quickly, she drained the glass, hoping the bourbon would dull her senses. He took the glass from her and dropped it on the floor. His arm was around her waist pulling her closer to him. She felt his sweaty hand slide over the satin gown and up to squeeze her bare breast. She was sickened by his easy familiarity, the possessive way he held and touched her. She was even more disturbed by her own compliant acceptance of his claim to her body. Under her, she could feel his stiff cock against her ass. “Did you often make love to your husband, Mrs. Ryan? I mean did you do things to excite him, do things to make him want to fuck you? Did you flaunt yourself in front of him, tease him, kiss him?”
Thinking of Jeff and his gentle ways brought her to tears. His lovemaking was selfless, tender and sweet. Not once did he demand anything of her. He had always tried to please her first. Abul yanked at her hair, forcing her to look at him. “Yes,” she said, “at times I would do some of those things.”
“Tonight, I want you to make love to me in the way you made love to him.” Between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand, he toyed with her swollen nipple. Try as she might, she could not stop her body from responding to the stimulation of his hands on her breasts. He knew she was becoming aroused. “If I am satisfied that you are the same with me as you were with him, Narimov will be disappointed. If I am not convinced, well...” He cupped her breasts and lifted them. “A woman’s nipples are very sensitive. I have often seen how easily they cut. I think I would enjoy seeing yours bleed.”
The thought of the muscular black dwarf whipping her tender breasts, cutting her nipples sent a clutch of terror through her. “I will make love to you,” she said, looking directly at him. Tentatively, she forced herself to touch his face.
“All night in my bed, just as you made love to your husband?”
“Yes, all night in your bed. I will make love to you just as I made love to my husband.”
“And how was that, Mrs. Ryan? How did you make love to your husband?”
“I...I...our lovemaking was slow...tender. We were...we were very gentle and caring.”
“But you may have noticed, my spoiled American bitch, I am not a gentle, caring man. You may also have noticed that I think women, especially rich American women like you, need to learn where they belong.” He waited for her response.