Comfort Girl No. 4 by Paul Blades
Janice Paterson is a pretty brunette living in NYC, stuck in a boring dead-end job. It's been weeks since she heard from her girlfriend Denise, then, suddenly, she receives a strange letter from her friend, telling her about a great job opportunity - one Janice should consider herself. Days later, there's an envelope in the mail marked "Open Immediately!" Inside:
"...Lifetime financial security can be yours! ...International company is seeking talented and vibrant young women...loyal and personable employees to assist in the marketing...Significant training provided at our modern facilities. Call today."
Curiosity gets the better of her and Janice calls the number on the ad. Before she realizes what she's done, she applied for the unknown job and is immediately accepted. But this is all too weird, and Janice decides to back out. The next morning, when a limo arrives to take her to the training, she declines to get in.
But this mysterious company will not take no for an answer, and they send in their enforcer. Janice is assaulted in the middle of the night, bound, gagged and spanked with a leather belt, then warned to comply with the company's demands. Still resisting, she's then framed for embezzlement and roughed up by two arresting officers. On finally returning to her apartment, she's hogtied, then suspended in the air and licked to a powerful orgasm by the same assailant who accosted her days before. Is there any hope to escape?
The battered and bewildered Janice finally slips into the limo, hoping to convince the company that she wants no part of them. Instead, she's whisked away to a new life as Comfort Girl No. 4, for a powerful Asian Corporation. Once she's trained, she'll be chosen by a master to be his personal pleasure slave.
Janice's harrowing descent into submission is marked by an embarrassing medical exam, ruthless punishment and rigorous sexual training that leaves her constantly aroused. This provocative story also includes depersonalization, sadism, humiliation, caning, whipping, heavy bondage, sex machines, incarceration, cages, gags, strap-ons, as well as oral, anal, straight and lesbian sex.
The girl is trembling, her inviting breasts quaking softly. Her long, wide nipples are taut and distended. There is a thick, black leather collar around the lithesome young woman’s neck with gold colored rings at the front and back and similar bracelets around her ankles and wrists. A single drop of perspiration runs down the woman’s right side, rolling slowly down her slender and shapely torso and dissipating as it reaches her right hip. It is clear that the woman is expecting someone, someone that she fears.
A slight moan escapes from the young woman’s pursed lips. She has been holding this pose for an hour and her arms have become increasingly heavy, causing a deep, burning ache in her shoulders. The remnants of long, pink trails of abused skin suggest the reasons for the woman’s trepidation. The faded lash marks cover her breasts and her flat, taut belly as well as the pale white skin of her rear and thighs. If one could see her back, one would see fresher, angrier red marks, the results of a recent whipping with a thin, leather covered reed, spread across it. The woman is breathing slowly, almost rhythmically, purposefully, as if preparing herself for an ordeal to come.
She shudders when she hears the sound of the handle of the door to her small prison turning. She has been staring at it for over an hour, anticipating its movement. Nonetheless, when it does move, it startles her.
A tall, heavy set man of obvious Asian descent steps into the room. He is wearing a bright green and red silk flowered kimono that accentuates his broad chest and the narrow grace of his hips. His legs are thick and long and he is wearing woven, straw sandals on his feet. His hair is jet black like the girl’s, but is cut short. There is no hair on his hard, square jaw or above his thin upper lip. The door closes behind the man and he places a plastic key card in the pocket of his kimono. To exit the tiny cell, one needs both the key card and the combination to the heavy, push button lock that seals the door shut. The combination is changed daily.
The man looks down on the kneeling, trembling woman. He takes the time to admire her luscious form and to enjoy the outer signs of her fear. In his right hand he is carrying the same thin, leather covered reed that has marked the young girl’s back. He utters a sharp, one word command to the girl as he loosens the belt to his kimono and pulls it open. It is a command that the girl understands completely although she does not know the literal meaning of the word. She inches forwards on her knees, keeping her arms raised and her hands interlocked behind her head. Kneeling, with her back straight and erect, her mouth is just above the level of the helmeted head of the Asian man’s long, limp cock. She has to bend her neck slightly to capture it between her lips.
Edging closer to the Asian man on her knees, the young woman wraps her plump, red lips around the thickening meat. She massages the man’s tool with her tongue, encouraging it to hardness. The man gives out a low sigh as the hot moisture of the girl’s mouth causes a wave of pleasure to flow through him.
Once the cock has hardened to its full length and thickness, the woman, known here only as Number 7, drags her lips slowly up and down its length. She knows that if she fails to pay proper obeisance to the man’s pleasure, she will surely feel the bite of the leather crop that he still holds in his right hand. She forces her head forward until the head of the cock passes the entry to her throat. She coughs, slightly, as she fights off her body’s rejection of this invasive flesh. The man has placed his hands on her head and, by his mere gentle pressure, keeps it positioned, the girl’s face crushed against his loins. The young woman groans as the need for oxygen begins to become urgent. But the hands keep her head still just as if it were held in place by a steel chain, the wad of thick, hard flesh still down her throat.
A low moan escapes the man’s mouth just as the girl commences an almost silent, desperate whine. The hands guide the girl’s head up slowly until his stiff manhood has breached the outside of her lips. She frantically draws a deep breath, her heart pounding with need, her mind dizzy from lack of sustenance. She is allowed one more before the hands push her head forwards once again. She can feel the plush, bulbous head as it glides across the roof of her mouth and over her tongue. She keeps her mouth narrow to maximize the man’s pleasure, granting his instrument maximum friction against her moist, hot tissues, and the hard, tubular flesh fills it easily.
Five times the ritualistic fucking of the girl’s throat continues. Each time, the man holds her head still a little longer, forcing her to exhaust her reserves of breath. Each time, she breathes deeper when finally released, sucking in air noisily.
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