President Slavegirl: Billionaire's Toy: Book Two of The Homouth Series Read online

  She was so overwhelmed with sexual feelings that the mere presence of a man sent her hormones into overdrive. Her fingers trembled so much that she had trouble unbuttoning her blouse, and getting her bra unhooked, normally something she could do easily while half asleep, was a real trial.

  Atreides made no move to help her, just stood there drinking her in with his eyes. This was not gentlemanly, but it was right. It felt right that he would simply stand there, being strong and silent and masculine as she stripped before him.

  When her panties were puddled around her feet she turned to face Atreides, naked as the day she was born, except for the scarf that still concealed the lower half of her face. Somehow, she could not bring herself to remove it.

  Atreides looked at her, his face calm.

  "You still wear a garment," he said. "Remove it."

  Eileen looked beseechingly at Atreides. It would be so much easier if he would remove the scarf for her. Or at least, close the drapes and turn out the lights. But of course, it would not be easy. Nothing would ever be easy for her again. Somehow she knew that.

  Eileen reached up and slowly, with trembling fingers, untied the knot and removed the scarf. It's soft silk folds clung to her face as she pulled it away, for of course her lips were now damp with secretions. She let the scarf drop to the floor and stood with her head bowed, unable to look Atreides in the eyes, trying to conceal the horror of her homouth from Atreides because she so desperately wanted him to find her attractive.

  Unfortunately, as she bent her head down, the large puddle of sex juices that had been puddled up in the base of her homouth oozed out and down her chin, extending in a long line of silvery, smelly stuff that reached almost to the floor before it broke.

  Eileen closed her eyes, unable to bear the shame of it. Drooling like an idiot, and with such unmistakable signs of arousal.

  "Turn around and cross your wrists behind your back," said Atreides.

  Eileen was happy to turn away from Atreides. It concealed her homouth from him.

  She heard the sound of a dresser drawer sliding open and then closed, and thought she knew what was coming next. But she was wrong.

  "Extend your arms away from your sides," ordered Atreides in that calm voice of his. He could not imagine that she would not obey his orders.

  Atreides wrapped rope around her breasts, first above and below them, crossing the ropes between her breasts and then crossing them in the opposite direction behind her back, forming an "X" pattern. This has the effect of making Eileen's breasts bulge, and with the effects of the nanoset on them, they were already quite bulbous. Finally, Atreides ran the ropes right over her nipples so that one rope ran above and one rope ran below each nipple, its slightly rough surface rubbing against the sides of her nipples with her every slightest move. She could not draw so much as the tiniest breath without feeling her nipples swell and rub against the rope.

  "It's called a rope bra," said Atreides. "There's also something called a crotch rope, but we won't use it on you right now. It would only get in the way. Now cross your wrists together behind your back again."

  Eileen did as ordered, feeling her ropes pressing into her breasts as her arms, drawn backward, thrust her breasts forward. Atreides tied her wrists together behind her back with casual skill, using many loops of rope to keep the pressure from becoming too concentrated, and harming her. But of course, this only made sure that the rope bra was all the more felt by her nipples, inflaming them further.

  It was so fiendish it made her homouth drool again.

  Atreides placed an hand on Eileen's shoulder and turned her around to face him. She kept her head lowered, but Atreides silently placed a finger under her chin and forced her head up.

  "Look at me," Atreides ordered. "Look me in the eyes."

  He cradled her head in both hands, incidentally preventing her from moving away from him, and then proceeded to give her a long, deep, kiss, right on the homouth.

  He looked deep into Eileen's eyes as he did so. He worked her homouth artfully, nibbling on the folds of her labia and clitoris with such skill and surety that she grew weak at the knees. His eyes, gazing down into hers, were warm and loving as he did so.

  Soon he released her head with his hands and then began running his hands all over her body. Her mouth was a runny mess, but he worked it like it was the most delicious peach anyone could ever taste. She was so overwhelmed by the feel of his tongue and lips tracing patterns of sexual fire over her face that she stopped being at all self-conscious and simply responded to him as an animal might, pressing against him unconsciously.

  When he had her on the point of exploding, he pushed her away from him, and she was forced to look down again, ashamed of the way she had yielded to him and pressed against him, ashamed of the juices that now flowed copiously down her chin and her thighs, from both sets of lips.

  "Kneel before me," Atreides ordered.

  Eileen got down on her knees, taking the opportunity to look down again.

  "I did not tell you that you could stop looking at me," said Atreides.

  Eileen looked up at Atreides. She had to. He could restore her homouth. It was not that she wanted to. (She wanted to, she wanted to, she wanted to.) Atreides had this power over her. He was making her do it. (She was so glad he was.)

  Atreides removed his shoes while standing, placing the toe of one shoe against the heel of another and sliding his foot up and out of the shoe, an easy, graceful motion. He unbuckled and unzipped his pants and let them drop to the floor. Then down came the boxers, in a smooth, shimmying motion that was as full of grace as Eileen's had been lacking in it.

  Atreides' cock was left bobbing, erect, a thin trickle of seminal fluid drooling from its end.

  ("He's drooling, just like me," thought Eileen, and found herself strangely warmed and comforted by the sight of that string of drool oozing from the tiny slit at the end of his cock dangling just above her eye level.)

  "Your knees are too close together, place them wide apart," Atreides instructed her.

  Her knees were in fact pressed close together as she knelt before Atreides. She spread them wide, as instructed. Atreides would permit her no modesty.

  Atreides stepped forward and carefully wrapped his fingers in the hair on either side of Eileen's head. He grabbed the hair, and guided Eileen's face until her homouth was directly in front of his bobbing cock.

  "Serve me," Atreides ordered, pulling her head forward. Eileen stretched her homouth as best she could to allow Atreides' cock passage into it. She felt his cock slide into her throat, and every inch of it felt good. She gave out with an involuntary moan of pleasure at finally feeling the sensations that had been the subject of her superheated fantasies for days.

  With his cock seated well in her mouth, Atreides began fucking her face. That was the only way to describe it. He thrust his cock in and out of her mouth while holding her head more or less stationary with his hands. Eileen could only kneel at his feet and take his cock in her mouth and try to keep her balance, her hands thrusting futilely within their bonds.

  Still, with no gag reflex and untold millions upon millions of sexual receptor cells lining her throat and her homouth, the sensation she felt was nothing but pleasure. Atreides expertly worked her homouth, sliding his cock so that it made maximum contact with the folds of her labia. Soon Eileen was moaning in unthinking pleasure at the feel of it. She could not help it, she was in the power of this sex expert to whom her body was an open book.

  After far too short a time, he pulled her head away from his cock, looking down at her with his hands on his hips. She looked back at him with her sex-splattered face, knowing that he would only make her look at him if she tried to look down.

  "Get on the bed," Atreides said. "Lie on your back. Spread your legs as far apart as you can, with your legs as close to the footboard as you can get them."

  Eileen struggled to her feet, not something she was accustomed to doing with her hands bound behind her back.
She crawled onto the bed and clumsily positioned herself as Atreides had ordered her to.

  Atreides had two more lengths of rope. He tied one to each of her ankles and tied them to the footboard, pulling her legs as far apart as he could, stopping only when Eileen winced in pain and then slightly lengthening the ropes so that her legs were spread as far apart as they could be without causing discomfort.

  Eileen had a momentary feeling of panic as she lay there and realized just how helpless she was. She could not move at all and the homouth wouldn't let her do anything other than moan.

  But she didn't feel all THAT frightened, because both sets of vaginal lips were glistening with her love juices.

  Atreides crawled onto the bed behind her. He knelt above her head and casually stroked his cock.

  "Watch," he ordered, which suited Eileen just fine. He had a great knack for ordering her to do what her lowest desires wanted her to do anyway.

  She watched his cock, which had lost some of it's tumescence as he secured her to the bed. ("He's not really into bondage, he's just doing that for me," Eileen thought, "but he's really into sex.") In a few seconds his cock was rock hard above her.

  "Serve me," Atreides ordered, sliding forward and placing his cock against her homouth.

  Ordered to do that which she wanted to do in the first place, she did as she was told, thrusting her head up to engulf his cock. Atreides reciprocated, thrusting his cock deep into her throat and then stretching forward until they were in the position known as "69." But he did not press the full weight of his body against her. He wrapped his arms around the lower half of her body and thus kept his weight from pressing painfully against her arms, which were still bound behind her back.

  What he did do was lower his head over her pussy and began expertly kissing and licking at that "other" set of sex lips. As he did so, he began thrusting his hips back and forth, once again fucking her face.

  Eileen did all that she could do, which was lie there with her legs spread wide and moan in ecstasy as both sets of lips were inflamed by Atreides' attentions. Atreides worked her body with a skill born of both instinct and the experience of knowing many, many women. With such pleasure overwhelming her from two sets of lips, and freed to respond to it as animal by her bonds, Eileen squirmed and wriggled and moaned. Now her every motion was informed by the intense pleasure she felt. In fact, there was nothing in her mind but pleasure, and her squirming and animalistic moans were not things she did, but things she were.

  Driven helplessly out of control by Atriedes, she came, came with her legs and wrists pulling helplessly at her bonds, came with a huge cock shooting sperm deep inside her throat, came with her pussy spread wide and slick with love juices as Atreides' tongue glided expertly across her clitoris, came so hard that she passed out momentarily.

  "God, she said when she awoke, still tied to the bed, with Atreides lying beside her half asleep, his arm resting gently on her stomach.

  "God!" she cried. She had said something! She had a mouth again! She ran her tongue over normal teeth, over normal lips.

  Atreides watched her calmly. He had seen the homouth transformation before, but it was always fascinating.

  Eileen smiled at Atreides. "Thank you," she said. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

  Chapter 2

  Fast Nickel

  "Here ya go," said the man, a big, balding fellow in rumpled but clean overalls and a checkered shirt. He walked to the back of his SUV, opening the door to reveal that the rearmost seat had been folded down to form a bed of sorts. A dirty blanket was draped across the top of the "bed" and underneath it lay a still form. A pair of feminine feet wrapped with rope poked out from under the blanket at one end. The way the toes were curled revealed that the owner of the toes was awake and feeling tense. He casually whipped the blanket away to reveal a bound, naked blond woman lying there. Her ankles and knees were tied together, her arms were tied together behind her back, and ropes encircled her shoulders, neck and breasts. Her wrists were tied to her feet in a classic hogtie.

  She looked up wildly at the man when the blanket was pulled away from her, her eyes wide, her torso writhing against her bonds.

  She did not say a thing. She could not. She wore a homouth.

  Eileen MacCammon, former President of the United States, was now a naked captive in the back of an SUV, her limbs wrapped so thoroughly in rope that she could hardly move.

  "Wal, Fred, I'm hopin' yer gonna tell me that we got a bondage freak here, that this ain't what it looks like," said his friend, a wiry man in corduroy slacks and a loud Hawaiian shirt.

  "It kinda is and it kinda isn't, Mark," said Fred, grinning.

  "Look, Fred, if she's not here by her own free will, you gotta let her go," said Mark. "You know the law."

  "I do know the law," said Fred. "And she's not here by her own free will, and I DON'T have to let her go. Wanna know why?"

  "Sure, why?" asked Mark, his tone slightly tired, the sound of a man who had heard a lot of horseshit in his life and expected to hear more momentarily.

  Fred reached in and pulled MacCammon half out of the SUV with an easy motion, the motion of a man accustomed to handling livestock, to whom MacCammon was just another kind of livestock. He clapped a rough hand over MacCammon's mouth, obscuring her homouth.

  "Look at her face, remind ya of anyone?" Fred asked, holding MacCammon's head up. MacCammon was juicing at the smell and feel of a man's hand on her face. Soon it would be oozing out of the cleft at the bottom of her homouth.

  "Kinda, but I can't really place her," said Mark. "I've seen her before, but I don't know where."

  "Think on TV, Mark, on the news," said Fred, holding MacCammon still.

  "Damn!" Mark said suddenly, his voice agitated. "That's President MacCammon! What the hell, Fred? You are in a shitload of trouble!"

  "No, I'm not," said Fred calmly. "Doncha remember what happened to her? The trial?"

  "I remember she had a trial and was found guilty and dropped out of sight," said Mark. "Figured she was in a jail cell somewhere."

  "She wasn't sentenced to no jail term," said Fred. "She was stripped of all her legal rights, except her rights to life, health and the pursuit of happiness. Know what that means? Means I can do anything I damn well please to her so long as I don't kill her or maim her. So can you."

  Mark looked down at MacCammon, and his eyes held a very different expression now.

  "You sure about this?" Mark asked.

  "I went online and checked it out once I was sure it was her," said Fred. "It's all over the web, man. She is anyone's meat."

  "How do you know it was her?" Mark asked.

  "She tole me who she was," said Fred. "She saw some of those Bible samplers that Martha used to put up in the house and assumed I was one of her supporters. She didn't know I had a son who'd spent two years in the pokey for going on the wrong porn site. Fucked him up good. Near as I can tell, she still don't have a clue as to how rare people who don't hate her guts are."

  MacCammon closed her eyes for a moment as these words rang in her ears. Was it really that bad? Had so many been hurt, and hurt so badly?

  Mark stared at MacCammon thoughtfully. She wriggled unconsciously in her bonds. The feel and smell of Fred's hand was making her horny. This happened all the time in the presence of men nowadays, even the half-feminine men who tended to be attracted to Feminist Church members. Her jumped-up sexuality made it hard for her to think two thoughts in a row that didn't have to do with sex.

  "How'd she wind up in your car here?" Fred asked.

  "She busted into Pete and Gladys' place a couple days ago," said Fred. "Said she needed help, that bad people were after her and she needed to get in touch with her friends. Wal, Pete recognized her right away. You know how he always follows the news. He knew what the deal was with her. So he and Gladys -- you know how Gladys always hated her -- pretended their phones was out and took her over to my place to use the phone. Once they got her to my place, we tied her u
p and Pete tole me what the deal was. I didn't believe it, either, but Pete got online and showed me. He remembered about my son and figured it was a neighborly thing to do to give MacCammon to me, in case I wanted to even things up between her and me. And it was a neighborly thing to do. And I do want to even things up. And I did, a little. Evened things up pretty good, didn't I honey?"

  MacCammon did not respond. He had used her like an animal. Worse yet, she had come many times while being used. Perhaps that constituted "evening up" somehow. MacCammon wasn't sure.

  "So, how'd she wind up at Pete and Gladys' place?" Mark asked.

  "Wal, it seems she's been hidin' out with some friends of hers ever since the trial, but her enemies broke in and took her and put this on her," said Fred, removing his hand from MacCammon's face and tracing the outline of her homouth with his finger, sending frissons of sexual pleasure through her entire body. "Then they let her go, 'cause they've got it rigged so the only way she can get rid of the homouth is to get her brains fucked out while tied up like the she-pig she is. And every time she gets horny, the homouth comes back, and they did something to her so she gets real horny, real often, and real easy. Lookit the stuff leaking out of the bottom of her homouth right now -- she's probably on the verge of coming just because a man is touching her."

  MacCammon's whole body blushed at this frank observation about her sexual state. It was true. What a slut they'd made of her! As if mindful of her state and not being willing to give her that much pleasure, Fred shoved her back on the seat and covered her with the blanket again.

  "Yeah, but that don't explain why they let her go," said Mark.

  "Well, ya can't keep her forever," said Fred. "You can keep her for a time, but you can't enslave her. So they let her go because they figured she'd go through hell with that thing on her face and no way to get rid of it except be what she would call a bondage whore. You know what a prude she was when she was President. Pretty slick when you think about it."