Message-ID: <36698asstr$1023160203@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: From: "Kenny Gamura" Mime-Version: 1.0 X-Original-Message-ID: X-OriginalArrivalTime: 03 Jun 2002 21:45:20.0731 (UTC) FILETIME=[F56362B0:01C20B47] X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Mon, 03 Jun 2002 21:45:20 +0000 Subject: {ASSM} Officer Sherry vs the Slightly Chunky Roommate {Gamera} (Ff bdsm) Date: Mon, 3 Jun 2002 23:10:03 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: kelly, gill-bates Disclaimer This is piece of fiction. Any imagined resemblance to people living or deceased is either the result of dementia on the reader's part or that the reader is, in fact, a character of this story. It is assumed that readers of this story have the permission of the state, mom, dad, and pastor and are able to tell the difference between real and make-believe. Furthermore, the writer is fully aware that he is bound for hell, but welcomes both praise or/and well thought out, humourous insults on his writing skill. Note: he already knows he cannot spell 'warth shet'. The events and descriptions of this story are the sole property of Kenny N Gamera and should not be recorded, reposted, or profited from in anyway without express written permission of the person hiding behind that pen name. Reposting and free archiving will be tolerated given the writer's name and address remains attached. Archiving by Deja.Com and ASSTR/ASSM is assumed and encouraged. Thank You and Good Day, Kenny N Gamera turtlemeat69@hotmail.com http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Gamera http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Gamera/Beggars_Can't_Be Authour's Note: This story takes place the same night as the events in "Beggars Can't Be... Part Nine: Revenge of the Slightly Chunky Roommate." While it is not part of the narrative, it is a story I felt needed to be told, if for no other reason, because I wanted to tell it. It was written in one sitting as what I call a 'story written in Hotmail.' I apologize if it is not as polished as it could be. Thank You again, the same guy as above Officer Sherry vs the Slightly Chunky Roommate (A Beggars Story) by Kenny N Gamera She hung suspended from the ceiling, her body roughly parallel to the floor. Her well-muscled legs were tied shut at the ankles and mid-calf in addition to mid-thigh. To each of these bindings another rope ran to the ceiling hooks. Her arms were tied behind her back, at the wrists and elbows. Her elbows almost touched. This forced her back to arch toward the ceiling. All she could see was the ceiling, but the darkness of the room gave her no detail. The uniform white appeared to be a patchy gray in the flicker of the candle. She longed to explore the room, but a rope harness prevented much movement. She wondered where they were at and what they were doing, but she couldn't look for them. She heard them, however. The shuffling of rough heeled boot or the dragging of a chair leg against the hard wood floor on the converted house. Sometimes, one would clear his throat. Or she could hear a page turn. It always came from someplace different. Maybe, he was against the wall or else he was close, standing next to her looking at her naked body. She shuttered at the thought. She wanted to cry; she wanted to beg; she wanted to plead, but the gag in her mouth prevented a word or sound from escaping. She closed her eyes and prayed to the Goddess to forgive her and protect her from the wrath, which she had brought on herself. And she listen for the men in her room, who were the wrath made flesh. The bed squeaked as if someone were sitting down upon it. Or standing up from it, she realized as she listened to the thunk of boot heels marching towards her. She felt herself shake as they drew nearer and nearer. They stopped right next to her, just to her side, but outside her range of vision. She swallowed against the gag. Tears began to run from her eyes. "She's a nice little piece, ain't she?" His voice was loud and rough, big and deep. She tried to imagine the man such a voice would belong to, and having imagined it, she tried to forget. She closed her eyes. Her lips quivered around the gag. "Damsel always had the best taste in pussy," came another voice, also that of a very tough man, from across the room. A page turned from the same direction. "Yep, kinda makes you wish you was a dyke," said the voice next to her. She could hear the longing in it. Another page turned from across the room. It was silent again, but she could feel the man standing next to her. Straining she could almost feel his breathing. She wanted to scream, to shout at him, to somehow chase him away from where he stood next to her and stared at her body like it was... Goddess, she prayed, please don't let him take me. Please, send the Mistress back to protect me. If the Goddess listened, she answered with a negative. She felt his rough and callused fingers touch her breast. It was gentle, but still unwelcome. Her body broke into uncontrolled spasms at the touch. Her mind wondered helpless at the whereabouts of her Mistress. "Master Roach, I do not recall granting you permission to touch my slave." At the sound of the Mistress's voice, the hand retreated from her breast, but only slowly and with one last squeeze. She almost sobbed in relief except for the gag. The soft sound of shoe against wood grew louder as She approached. The rough voice next to her spoke, "I apologize, Mistress Damsel. I overstepped my invitation with your property, but I could not resist a touch. She is lovely." The voice of the Mistress came from next to her. "You are forgiven, Master Roach, but you should learn from Master Slash. He is much more patient." "It is true, but I do have much to learn still about patience." The voice seemed softer, but returned to its rougher nature quickly, "As you see, your property is unharmed." "Thank you, gentle Masters. Shall I escort you out? I still need to correct this slave and I wish to be alone with it." Chairs scraped and boot heels pounded. Soon the room was silent. In time, through this silence, she heard the door across the apartment open and close. She listened for her returning Mistress, but heard nothing. She hung there for minutes that seemed like hours except for the count of her heartbeats. "Jenny is with Ken, kimberly." She jumped at the sound of the Mistress's voice. The Mistress must have been right next to her ear from the sound of the whisper. Behind the softness of it, Kim could feel the anger. "He looks like shit, kimberly. Pure shit, kimberly." Relief turned to fear at the sound of the Mistress's voice. "But he doesn't look as much like shit as you do to me right now, kimberly." The Mistress had pulled away and spoke normally. "You should know better than to do what you did to anyone." She heard the Mistress move around her. She felt a tug at the ropes tied to the bindings of her thighs. The upperward of the rope gave way with a suddenness. She could see the rope hang slack from the ceiling. The rope to her calve binding came slack. She felt the hand of the Mistress take hold of her beneath her legs. The rope holding her ankles went slack as well. The Mistress gently lowered her legs and her body rotated in space, so that she dangled perpendicular to the floor in her harness. The Mistress walked around from behind her, and stood before with legs spread and arms held behind her. She still wore her uniform, but without her badge or her sidearm. "kimberly. Do you know what this is?" The Mistress brought her hand from behind her back. In it was a large brass coin, a Canadian dollar coin, a gift from a past love. She wanted to nod her head, but it was still held motionless by her harness. The gag prevented her from speaking. "It is your mercy coin. Your safeword for when you are gagged." The Mistress turned and walked to the bureau behind her. She placed it on the top in sight of the slave. The Mistress returned and again took her place. "You must learn a lesion tonight, kimberly. If it means the end of my ownership, so be it. "But tonight, kimberly, you will have no safeword." The Mistress bent down, using her knees and holding her torso erect. She came up with a cane in one hand. She brought it down with a smack against the open palm of her free hand. A second time, she smacked her palm. A third time. The Mistress shot her arm out. A measured blow hit the slave across the upper arm about two inches from where a short sleeve would end. The cane came back behind the Mistress and then flew to the leg on the opposite side of the slave's body. It struck a meaty portion of her thigh. Quickly, without warning without time to prepare, the blows were sent against her body. The slave's body swung in her harness with each hit, her body a pendulum on the ropes holding her to the ceiling. Her heart started pounding, she wanted to cry out. Her safeword repeated itself in her thoughts. The blows came, however, as a relentless battering against her body. Then, they just stopped. She opened the eyes that she was not aware that she had closed. The Mistress stood before her without the cane. She opened a switchblade knife as the slave watched with wide eyes. The Mistress wrapped an arm around the slave and reached behind her. She felt the rhythm of the knife cutting into the rope that held her aloft. It gave way. Her Mistress held her up and softly lowered her to the floor. She cut the ropes that held her legs and arms together. She released the slave, who stood wobbly on her legs. "kimberly, I want you to think about what just happened. I want you to think very hard about it and what was going through Kenny's head tonight." The Mistress stepped away. "Leave the harness on while you sleep. I will be in Jenny's bed. Don't bother me. We will talk in the morning." The Mistress walked to the door as the slave began to rub at where the ropes had bit into her skin. The slave walked to the full-length mirror on her closet the bruising seemed less than normal, the pain much slighter than she was used to after a session. Her heart still beat from the memory of the fear, though. The Mistress cleared her voice. The slave turned to the door where the woman stood. "One last thing. Someday, ask Kenny about The Scar, kimberly." The Mistress walked away. _________________________________________________________________ Send and receive Hotmail on your mobile device: http://mobile.msn.com -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}| |Archive at Hosted by | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+