Free THE PRIZE by Sean O'Kane Page A

it down into the drink-dispensing slave's anus, then swirled his fingers in her warm and moist cunt while Peter finished ramming himself into the faintly groaning Ayesha who was only just beginning to have some idea of what her future held. Only then did he relax and reward the slave who was industriously tonguing him by allowing himself to spurt into her mouth.
     
    Lost in her darkness and ablaze with mingled torment and ecstasy, Ayesha felt herself slipping away. She had lost count of the days since her abduction. They had kept her in a plain little cell, chained to her bed and for most of the time she had worn this wretched hood. Either Mohammed or Mahmut would enter, pin her hands behind her back and then slip the hateful thing over her head, pinching her nose until she had to open her mouth and then stuffing that with the built-in penis gag before buckling the whole contrivance tightly at the back of her neck, leaving her blind and deaf, only able to taste the acrid plastic of the shaft filling her mouth. She was left for hours at a time, sometimes tied in painful positions as well but eventually someone would come and use her. However she was restrained it always left her body available and what was really disturbing was that she was coming to want it. After the suffocating darkness and silence, the touch of fingers, even anonymous fingers groping her most intimate places was human contact of a sort. Even the pain of the breast and nipple stretching she was currently undergoing meant that at least there was someone else present. The repeated fucks were even better, even if they did lead to more pain. Someone actually inside her banished the long isolation and the hood made her focus on the feelings of pain and pleasure more intensely than anything she had ever experienced before. But as she lay and felt the sperm from the last fuck dribble down between her buttocks and begin to congeal and the bitter stretching of her nipples continued, Ayesha realised she could hardly remember even Karen's face. But somehow she had to hang on to some memories of who she had been before she had been transformed into a dumb, anonymous frame for a vagina and two breasts. She had to hang on because there was still hope; her handler at HM Customs and Excise knew where she had been going. He needed her information - he would come looking for her. He had to.

 

     
     

    Chapter 8
     
     
    Karen was desperate. Days had become weeks and still there was no news from Ayesha. It was as if the sky had simply swallowed her plane but there had been no reports of any crash. Ayesha had just not come back. At last she had made discreet enquiries at the airport the plane had taken off from but could glean nothing of any use. What made it worse was that there was no one she could confide in. Telling her husband about her concerns was of course out of the question. He had no idea that she even knew Ayesha, let alone that she was sleeping with her and conniving with her to swindle him to boot. She could not rid herself of the odd suspicion that he might have had something to do with her disappearance. But why he would want her out of the way defeated her. After all Ayesha had always said that he could never keep his hands off her. Nevertheless he didn't seem to act like someone who had lost a valuable employee and part-time mistress.
    The final straw was that as the weeks went by she became more and more frustrated. Her husband screwed her occasionally but was just not interested in her enough to give her what she needed, and what she needed was Ayesha's domination to achieve the kind of orgasm which really satisfied her.
    She paid frequent visits to Ayesha's flat, rummaging through every scrap of paper she could find, trying in vain to break into her laptop; all to no avail. In the end she went just to sit and hope that some day she would see her again.
    In that mood of resigned sadness and sheer sexual desperation she went one autumn afternoon and