President Slave Girl: The Homouth -- Book 1 of the President Slave Girl series Read online

  Bright picked up something that looked like a laser pointer and pointed it at Eileen and clicked. Immediately, Eileen felt her mouth and throat begin that strange tickling and panging thing again.

  "I'll give the floor to Naomi now as she explains your sentence," Bright said.

  "We understand that the crimes you committed against us were committed out of a desire to protect women," said Wolf a raven-haired beauty whose face and body bore the strain of having been an ink-stained wretch for much of her life followed by a stint in prison. "Women are able to live in relative freedom because they enjoy the protection of the law. But one of those freedoms should be sexual freedom, and you denied us that freedom, and eventually denied some of us all of our freedom -- locked us in cages, away from our friends, lovers and families, where some of us, especially the men, were treated very badly indeed."

  As Wolf spoke, Eileen noticed with horror that her naughty bits were getting uppity. She was definitely feeling things down there -- and also in her boobies --and in her mouth!

  "Therefore we have decided to let you experience what it is to be without the protection of the law, while having healthy sexual instincts," said Wolf. "We know your sexual instincts are not healthy. We know you are celibate by choice. We know that you hate and fear, not just pubic expressions of sexuality, but your sexuality. Therefore, we have injected you with a set of nanocytes which will augment your natural hormone systems to make you more sexually susceptible. Essentially, you're going to get a lot hornier than you used to, a lot more often."

  Eileen moaned in despair at these words -- they had invaded her body in a way no man could! Moaning was a curiously pleasurable sensation. And it sounded funny, too.

  "That's not all," said Wolf. "Remove her gag."

  A guard came forward and unwrapped the tape around Eileen's head. It was a little painful, pulling at their hair on the back of her neck, but what a relief it was when the guard pulled the horribly soiled thong from her mouth.

  To be able to close one's mouth finally -- what a relief.

  "Show her," said Wolf.

  A guard brought out a mirror and held it before Eileen. She looked at it and saw a bedraggled-looking naked early middle-aged woman whose apparent age was her late 20s thanks to nanotech beauty mods, tied to a chair. And she didn't look NEARLY as bad as she felt -- all the perverse treatment she'd been subjected to had someone failed to show in her face as she'd half expected it to.

  Except for one thing. Her lips -- her lips were all wrong. They went up and down her face, reaching from the base of her nose to almost the tip of her chin. And they weren't smooth, they were wrinkled and puffy and bloated and shiny as if they'd been oiled somehow.

  Then the horrible thing that they were expressed itself fully in her mind. The lips ... the lips on her face were vaginal lips -- it was as if a vagina were transplanted there!

  The shock of that realization led her to utter a full-throated scream -- but not scream came out of her throat. Instead there were a series of embarrassing ... splorting noises, wet, juicy raspberries.

  But that wasn't even the worst part. Far worse was what she glimpsed in the mirror as she screamed. For inside her mouth was not her familiar tongue and teeth, but a glutinous mass of slimy pink tissues receding back to a dark hole, writhing horribly as her throat muscles tried to wrest speech from them, but unable to make any sound at all.

  For a few moments, all she could do was stare at her reflection in the mirror and scream, or try to scream, at the horror of it, further exposing her face's gleaming pink mysteries to her horrified gaze. It was sheer, instinctive reaction to what had been done to her, and the obscene burbling sounds her disgusting face made only added to the horror of it.

  What had been done to her!

  The women in the room sat quietly, gleefully drinking in her horror and fear. They had all been hurt, and hurt badly by this woman who had judged them with such disdain.

  She collapsed into a sobbing mess, her head bowed, tears running freely from her eyes, rude slucking sounds the substitute for sobs.

  None of the women in the room moved to comfort her. They had all had the experience of standing in a courtroom shackled like animals, or seeing their loved ones shackled like animals, to be hauled off to cages and mistreated for months and in some cases years, for nothing more than having different sexual values than this woman. They were all naturally warm and friendly people. If they had not been so badly treated they would have been horrified at the sight of Eileen's suffering, but as things stood there was a certain amount of glee in the room.

  And the ones who felt the most glee were the ones who'd stood helplessly and watched their loved ones hauled off by guards. They were the ones who hated her the most.

  Some women had forgiven Eileen and the Church and all who'd stood with them in the persecution of sexuality. But the women in this room had not. They needed a kind of catharsis. They were getting it.

  "It's called a homouth, derived from ho'mouth, or whoremouth," said Bright. "Many of those of us in this room have had them installed voluntarily, for sexual reasons. We paid money to have ours installed, and it wasn't cheap until just a couple of years ago."

  The woman whom Eileen knew as Jenna suddenly loomed in front of Eileen's face, putting her face a scant 30 centimeters from Eileen's. Jenna had a homouth, too. Her lips were vertical, puffy and moist They writhed obscenely, the inner labia wiggling inside the outer as Jenna moved her jaw. Her eyes were knowing, smiling almost, but with a hard edge to them. They seemed to say, "I know what this thing on my face can do, and you're going to know, too."

  "Of course, we who paid can control the homouth's appearances," said Bright. And as Eileen watched, Jenna's face writhed even more obscenely than it had, then slowly, over the course of five minutes or so, returned to the state of a normal woman's mouth.

  Eileen suddenly remembered hearing about these things as a horrible new underground perversion ushered in by the explosive successes of biomedical research when the Chang-Honnenfeld process had rendered nanotech feasible, along with more useful adaptations, like gills. They were cited as proof that the war against degenerate sex was not over.

  This thing was reversible, it was not grafted onto her face for the rest of her life!

  That realization helped a lot.

  "You can't control it though," said Bright. "We've got programmable nanotech in there that have set off a series of conditions in your body. Your breasts are going to get larger, much larger. Your hips will widen, your waist will narrow. You're going to become physically very attractive.

  "We're not going to tell you what conditions will make you horny," Bright continued. "Let's just say that there are a lot of triggers in our program -- a lot of them. And just to add to the fun, you can be turned on by one of these garage door openers. Any opener that's tuned to your frequency and pressed in your presence will trigger horniness in you -- and we're putting the combination that works for you on a lot of Internet sites."

  "Three things are going to happen when you enter the early stages of sexual arousal. One, your mouth will become a homouth. Two, your nipple will swell to the size of marshmallows, and they'll be firm enough to make noticeable bumps in whatever you're wearing, short of body armor -- just as they are now. Look down, Eileen."

  Eileen looked down, and saw that it was true -- her breasts now sported nipples that bulged obscenely from their tips. They were like cartoon nipples, big and pink like candies.

  "Third, both your homouth and your pussy will become swollen, turn bright pink, and lubricate heavily," said Bright. "What's more, the lubricant you produce will have a strong, pungent, musky odor -- the odor of female arousal -- that will be wafted into the air through aromatics that will also be produced by your nanoset. You're filling the room right now, Eileen," Bright said, waving her hand in front of her nose and eliciting gales of laughter. "Every time you get horny, you're going to fill the room with the smell of sex, and that smell will be unmistakably l
inked to you, thanks to your homouth, your nipples, and the moaning you'll do when you're horny, another little gift from us to you."

  "Now, we are sure that you will do nothing to enjoy the sexual gifts that we're giving you, being who you are," said Bright. "But the nanoset's going to help you with that, too, Eileen. Because you can't change from your homouth back to your regular mouth at will, Eileen. Once your homouth has made its appearance, it will go away only if two conditions are filled. One, you have to be bound. Specifically, your hands have to be tied behind your back, to ropes or chains around your waist, ropes or chains on your ankles, or to some immovable object. Your nanoset has been programmed with a group of acceptable ties by one of our bondage fans -- don't worry, there's quite a large number of ties listed. Two, you have to be fucked, either in your mouth, your pussy or your ass. Which one? That'll vary, Eileen. You'll just have to guess. But you will be glad to know that while your homouth is present, your gag reflex will be entirely suppressed. Your lover can bang away at you without fear, no matter which hole he or she is using."

  Eileen stared blankly at Bright and her fellow tormentors, who for the most part were grinning at her. They were enjoying themselves immensely. Why should they not? They had all had prominent and promising careers and she'd put the whole lot of them in jail.

  "That's all there is," said Bright. "We're going to keep you here for the next few days for observation, and we'll keep feeding you nanos. Do you want to know how we got them in you already? They were in those soiled panties we've been gagging you with! They just migrated right through your soft tissues to where they needed to be. Isn't technology wonderful? We'll keep that up, I think everybody in the room has a pair they'd like to contribute to the cause."

  More laughter.

  Eileen closed her eyes, suddenly remembering those cool damp spots in the panties and the way they'd seemed to wriggle in her mouth. The nanosets.

  "When we're through testing, and we're sure the nanoes have taken, we'll take you back to your ranch and release you," said Bright. "I'm sure the first thing you and the Church will do is try to deactivate our nanos. Have your techies look very carefully at what we've done, first. We number among our lovers and fans some of the finest programmers and nanotechies on Earth, and they've rigged a few fail-safes to make sure the nanos stay active until your sentence is served."

  "Now, the sentencing phase is over," said Bright. "It's playtime!"

  The room erupted in cheering. Eileen's guards untied her quickly, then seized her arms and dragged her to a table in the center of the room, where they tied her spreadeagled to its top. The women surged from the audience to surround her. They completely surrounded the table, and their hands were everywhere, everywhere, laughing and joking and mocking her and probing her...

  Chapter 3

  In the Hands of Mine Enemies

  She fought the evil women as hard as she could, but they were everywhere, all around her. Their hands went everywhere, to places she would never have put her hand, and twisted and tickled and slapped and pinched and poked and pulled and stroked and rubbed and she was helpless, helpless against them.

  She had tried kicking with her legs, but they simply pulled her legs apart and wrapped leather cuffs around them at the ankle, and suddenly she was displayed as she was on an ob-gyn table.

  They said horrible, nasty, revolting things about her body even as they probed and pried at it. They laughed at her while tears streamed down her face. She tried to cry out, but only disgusting slucking sounds would issue from the thing her mouth had become. She cried and her sobs were just more slucking sounds.

  Worst of all, some of the women put their hands in her homouth, and probed and prodded the soft tissues there, and she could smell her own arousal on their fingers as they did. Of course, there were fingers Down There, in both places Down There, and on her nipples, and her thighs, and on every part of her.

  Soon she felt her body responding with waves of overwhelming pleasure to the fingers inside her and on her, and despite the fact that she hated hated hated the women who were doing this thing to her, her back began to arch and her legs began to convulse, and she cried out into the sea of glittering eyes and pneumatic breasts above her, sent forth loud disgusting noises around the fingers that filled her homouth because she was coming coming they were making her come and they hated her and did not love her but they knew her body knew it and controlled it and when she came it was like the orgasms had been pulled out of her by the hands all around her.

  Amazingly, they did not stop when she came, though she splorted a thick stream of liquid from her face that oozed down her chin and puddled in the hollow formed by her clavicle. They just kept touching her and mocking her and probing her and soon she was being overwhelmed by feelings again. And she realized that they were taking turns using her, that there were that many women here who wanted to hurt her in this way.

  She did not understand. Her whole Presidency had been about protecting women. She had been women's savior, their friend, their rescuer from the vile, immoral corruption that society had become. Some few hundreds of thousands, of women had been put in jail for their deep immorality. Some few millions had lost husbands or fathers to her jails as well. But she could not believe such creatures could love their family and friends the way decent women like herself did.

  Why had they done it? Why had the people and the courts let her be taken by these, her enemies, to be used so cruelly? She had done hard things, difficult things, some would say cruel things, but her goal had always been the protection and advancement of women. Surely they could see that. Surely ... oh god. One of them had put her whole fist up Eileen's ass. She cried out in surprise and pain and they all cheered to hear the startled sluck that came out of her homouth.

  This went on for some time she could not determine. Hours, at least. Perhaps a day. She became exhausted and could not resist them any longer, and not even the firmest slap or the most excruciating pinch in the most excruciating place would get a response from her.

  So they dragged her to her cell, and chained her to the floor spreadeagled, and hosed her off, and then let her sleep, for she passed out as soon as the water stopped hitting her.

  The next day, things got worse.

  She woke up feeling strangely happy, then she remembered where she was, as she took in the fact of her nakedness, the bonds that encircled her wrists and ankles. Of course she had been happy, in dreaming she had forgotten what had been done to her. Worse yet, on remembering, all the shame and humiliation and anger came back, all the feelings that had welled inside her as she lay helpless and sexually abused by the angry women who had been her prisoners once. And the lust, worst of all, the lust, welling up inside her, overwhelming her, just as her mother had told her it would if she gave in to it. Her mother had been absolutely right, even though nanocytes were not in common use at the time.

  Now she lay naked and displayed and waited for her captors to again do with her as they would. She was unutterably depressed. If you could die from losing the will to live, she would have died then and there, for she had utterly lost it. Her nether regions still ached from the abuse they had suffered the previous day. Women had put their whole hands in her and wiggled them around.

  What had she done to deserve this? She had been taught to go out and do her best in the world, to follow the highest dictates of her conscience, and she had done that, and now the world had thanked her for it by leaving her naked and chained in a stall like an animal, raped and abused. She had fought to keep women free from the exigencies of male sexuality, and to tell the truth, from female sexuality too, though of course she'd never admitted to THAT. That would have been a huge mistake, easily avoided by simply lying about her intentions to all but her closest friends. The feminist-conservative alliance is what had propelled her into power, and the feminists would never have sat for anything that smacked of attacking women, however slutty and vile they might be.

  Tears coursed down her face anew as she
considered the depths to which she had fallen. She had always kept herself chaste and pure, even within her marriage. She had two children, both of whom had renounced her later in life, but they'd loved her well enough as kids. Once she'd stopped having kids, she'd stopped having sex with her husband Tom, who had in his manly fashion respected her wishes, as a good man should.

  She had been very proud of him until the day she found his stash of pornographic magazines and videos. She'd looked at them briefly, but they were so disgusting that she could not bear to watch for more than a few minutes.

  Horrified, she did some more investigating, and had found the pornographic images on Tom's computer, hidden in an innocuous-looking folder. Then she'd found the credit card receipt from the strip club. She'd looked it up on her computer and seen its Internet site and seen the sort of women who danced there and how they were dressed when they danced, and a furious fire began to grow within her, the fire that had eventually led her to become President of the United States. Of course, many people would say she was truly ushered into power by the Second Crash of the 2000s, which had made the crash of 2007 look like a growth spurt. With unemployment in double digits and moving fast toward Great Depression numbers, her message that the Second Crash has been caused by moral decay had been well received, though cynics claimed that ANYONE other than the President whose tenure had included the Second Crash could have been elected. But it had been her that had been elected, and the economists and policy wonks who claimed it was all about automation and unfettered economic speculation by the investment banks bed damned.

  Her ruminations were interrupted when her captors came in and kicked her to see if she was awake. When her eyes fluttered open, her homouth was briefly transformed back into the real thing so she could eat. She felt the tickling, the strange pullings and stretchings in her mouth and throat, and knew them for what they were now. After her breakfast of water and gruel eaten lying naked and hogtied on the floor before a mocking audience of her enemies, the women stroked her and sat on her face and rubbed her until the homouth came back. Then she was hauled to a room filled with rings and bars set in the floor. In the center of the room was a rough wooden bench. She was placed face down on it, her ankles cuffed to the legs at its base, her hands tied together behind her, a strap running across the small of her back, her neck encircled by a wooden collar.