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Chapter 12 - Cat and Mouse
Fear writhed in Jasmine's gut as the kneeling girl looked up at her smug trainer, hands still bound
high behind her back. The eyes of the little Asian who stared back down at her gleamed with true
cruelty, obviously relishing her absolute control over the helpless trainee. Jasmine could only
endure that stare for a moment before averting her eyes and lowering her head.
The leather crop fell like a blur into the side of Jasmine's overstuffed breast, stinging just hard
enough to force a small grunt between her parted lips.
"Look at me. I told you to show me your tongue. When your master tells you to do something, you
do it until he tells you to stop. And whenever we're together here, I'm your mistress." Jasmine
tilted her head back and pushed her tongue out again, but her eyes avoided the frozen laser stare.
Feng tossed Jasmine's sopping gag to the floor behind herself, where a naked girl draped in steel
chains scrambled jingling to retrieve it. Then the burgundy-clad dominatrix extended her left index
finger toward Jasmine's tongue, apparently pointing to its pierced tip. The auburn-haired girl stared
down at her finely stitched leather glove.
"Lick it, you stupid cow."
The bound girl hesitated for just a moment before leaning forward on her knees to lap at the slender
digit. The hand withdrew, then snapped across her cheek, which was still tender after the application
of permanent rouge.
"Clumsy slut. Your master is paying for a pleasure companion, not a slobbering puppy. Tease it
like it was his cock."
Jasmine wanted to weep as the finger reappeared before her face. She was trying to be good, but her
new mistress was so impatient and cruel. Her quiet, vicious words stung as harshly as her crop.
Jasmine wished the understanding and encouraging Ruta would come back for her! But the lumpy
therapist had told her to be good with Feng, and she knew she should learn how to earn her master's
praise...
The crop flew again, and Jasmine squeaked as a pink mark appeared next to her puffy nipple.
"You are pathetic...."
The scold was cut short as the bound doll reached out again with her tongue, gently this time to
barely taste the presented fingertip. Once, twice....when the abusive trainer stared down silently, in
apparent approval, Jasmine reached forward again to swirl the soft rubber brush carried in her
tongue piercing gently upon the underside of the leather-wrapped finger. The cold grin spread a
little further across the hard, pretty face of her mistress, so she leaned a bit more onto her knees
and ran her tongue-brush along either side of the fingertip, as lightly as she could.
"That's a little better. Not completely hopeless, maybe. Now, suck it."
Drawing in her tongue the trainee wrapped her swollen, rubbery lips around the slim gloved finger
and rocked forward to take in its full length. Her cheeks pulsed as she suckled it the way she had the
electronic training prod, and she tasted the earthy, slightly bitter leather.
The crop whirred down, too quick to see, to swat her on the hip. Jasmine flinched and bit down
reflexively, which only squeezed the finger briefly between her toothless gums.
"It's not a feeding nozzle, moron. I'm not interested in the simple reflexes the computer taught you.
I want to see how you pleasure a cock. Don't pretend you've no idea. I've read your profile - you
were a hungry little cumslut before you ever came here. Now, show me why the boys all called you
when they had to blow a load."
Closing her eyes against the hateful words Jasmine began to bob her head slowly back and forth,
pursing her lips to generate friction against the symbolic prick. It took an effort to close her jaw to
fit the little woman's skinny finger; her mouth seemed to have been designed for larger prods.
"Is that all you've got?"
Eager to please and so avoid the stinging crop, Jasmine began to swirl her tongue in time with her
bobs, rubbing its bumpy new surface against the warm leather. After a few more strokes she began
to hum. She felt no pain now; her throat must be fully healed.
"Look at me." The huge doe's eyes turned up toward the trainer's sharp face, while the lips and
tongue below continued their massage. "When serving your master you will look either into his
face, or at whatever part of his anatomy you're pleasuring. When he allows you to rest in his
presence you will stare at the floor, like the humble slave you are. But when serving him you will
show him he's the center of your attention, of your whole world, even. Do you understand?"
"Mmm-hmmmm," the still bobbing trainee hummed in acknowledgment.
The crop flew twice, biting into breast and buttock. Jasmine flinched again and stopped for a
moment, but fearing retribution quickly gathered herself, returned her focus to the imperious face
above and resumed fellating the leathery digit.
"You are never, ever, to speak in the presence of your master. A slave must always answer ‘Yes
master' - or ‘mistress.' But that expensive new cock-socket under your nose can't say those words
clearly enough to show proper respect, so you won't speak at all. You will nod your head twice, or
shake it once in answer to all questions. Is that clear?"
The auburn-haired doll's upturned eyes remained wide and dry, reflecting nothing of her true
emotions. She nodded her head slightly while continuing to bob back and forth, her mammoth tits
swaying in time with her efforts.
"You are permitted to moan and cry in pleasure or pain. I hate a noisy slave, but your master's
training instructions state that you're to have this freedom. Be grateful, but I warn you not to take
too much advantage of it. A master may like to hear that he's touching you in the right spot, one
way or the other, but nobody likes a whiny cunt. Right?"
After a pause Jasmine nodded again, her face as vapid as ever. A string of gooey drool began to
descend from the cleft in her lower lip, where it didn't seal very well against the narrow finger it
massaged.
"Don't you dare make a mess on my mat."
Fearing more punishment Jasmine slurped noisily around the gloved finger, trying to draw the spittle
back up into her mouth. But it had dripped too far.....quickly she pulled her head back and was able
to make the string of drool land in her cavernous cleavage instead of on the floor. Her mistress
wrinkled her nose in disgust.
"How feminine," she sneered with cynical contempt. "I've seen enough - clean my finger." Jasmine
leaned forward as the digit was drawn from between her lips, sucking and licking earnestly as she
tried to dry it of every last drop of saliva.
"You're a third-rate cocksucker, at best. I guess those college boys didn't know any better. But at
least you seem willing to learn. Keep up that attitude and we should get along fine. Now, on the
horse." She pointed to a broad, padded apparatus about three and a half feet high.
Jasmine crawled to it on her knees, keeping her head tilted back slightly so that her saliva drained
back down her throat. When she knelt beside it she stopped, and looked questioningly at her
burgundy-clad warden. The wiry little woman moved lithely behind her, and began undoing the
straps that bound her arms. When they were free they fell lifelessly to her sides.
"Shake some blood into them and get up there. I want you bent over the horse with your fat ass in
the air."
Jasmine wiggled her arms as vigorously as she could, which was not very. She tried to lock her
elbows and brace herself on her arms while she got her toes under her, but they buckled and she
nearly did a face-plant on the mat. She tried again, leaning her shoulder against the horse and
attempting to push up on her toes, but couldn't find the right balance. While she strained and
grunted, Feng gazed down with arms folded across her chest, and a look on her face that seemed torn
between anger and laughter.
"Pathetic. You couldn't even climb into your master's bed. Ruta's been too busy spoiling you to
teach you anything useful, I guess. Mouse, get her up there."
Instantly the chain-bound nude, who had been kneeling quietly at one corner of the mat, rose and
shuffled across to the horse. She was a plain, soft-looking girl, with little cupcake tits and brown
hair shorn roughly into a bowl cut. Her flanks and breasts were marked with long thin bruises, some
angry red and others mottled brown, blue, and yellow. Her groin was shaved and she wore nothing
but a wide black collar, belt, and cuffs at ankle and wrist. From these hung chains of shiny gray
steel, long enough to allow her considerable movement though her stride was reduced to a shuffle.
Reaching Jasmine the slave placed her hands under the struggling girl's armpits to aid and balance
her. With this assistance the trainee finally straightened her legs and rose with her back against the
horse. After a moment she rolled her waist along the side of the device so that she faced it and bent
forward, breathing heavily. Mouse scurried back to her corner and knelt once more on her
haunches, head down and chained hands in her lap.
Jasmine pressed her chin and the front of her shoulders into the top of the padded horse, trying to
take as much weight off her rigidly pointed toes as she could. Her round butt was held high, as
instructed, while her arms and heavy jugs hung beneath her. The ringed nipples were almost level
with her knees. Feng kicked at the insides of her feet, spreading her legs slightly. When she pushed
down on the small of her back Jasmine knew to arch her spine, exposing her plugged pussy lewdly.
"Let's see what we have here." Jasmine held her breath as she felt her taskmaster grasp the
protruding end of the vaginal retainer and push it up and down, putting pressure on her tenderized
sex. She released the three elastic straps that held it in place, and began to twist and draw it slowly
out. As inch after inch of the white plastic invader appeared, the cruel mistress began to laugh
merrily.
"Well, N. told me he'd worked you over down here but, damn, girl! You've got the biggest box I've
seen in a long time! I wonder if your master keeps real horses. You'd be the most popular filly in
the barn!"
Jasmine shuddered at the thought, as the round head of the retainer finally popped free. No, he
wouldn't....no one could subject a person to that! Would he?
Feng moved alongside to taunt her with the moist prod. The blunt cylinder was perhaps four inches
wide, and over a foot long. Seeing it for the first time Jasmine regarded the dildo with horror,
recalling that this impossible size had actually come as a relief after the last pneumatic assault of the
HOE. If this was just the retainer, what was her maximum capacity? She knew suddenly that no
man would ever want her there again, and that realization struck her even harder than the fear of
being mated to a stallion.
Feng tossed the retainer to the mat where Mouse scurried to collect it, then moved behind Jasmine
again and placed her left hand on the small of her arched back. The fingers of the right began to
push between the girl's chubby labia.
"I have to see this for myself," the little Asian said as she slipped her gloved hand forward, and
Jasmine's big eyes widened further. When the biggest part of the trainer's open hand passed inside
the rubbery lips it met friction against the drying walls of the girl's pussy. Feng pushed a little,
making her victim grunt in discomfort.
"OK, OK, I know you just finished on the HOE. I won't tear you up any more - that'd set back your
shipping date." With her free hand the wiry woman reached down and put a fingertip on her
trainee's swollen clitoris. The girl gasped audibly and her knees shook as the skilled digit rubbed in
a slow circle over her most sensitive nerves. In moments her programmed pussy oozed with
lubricating juices.
"That's better, for you and for me." Feng pressed forward again, her open hand slipping easily now
into the sopping tunnel. The thumb joint, the wrist, then inch after inch of the forearm disappeared
inside the passive, horrified girl, whose breaths came quick and shallow. The trainer paused to roll
up her cotton sleeve, then pressed forward again.
When her fingertips finally pressed against Jasmine's sutured cervix, the elastic labia snugged about
Feng's right arm within a few inches of the elbow. She began to work the fingers of her left hand in
alongside and then, impossibly, forced the second hand in as well. Despite the ample lubrication this
proved a slight strain, and Feng cooed with satisfaction at the snug fit while Jasmine whimpered in
pain and humiliation.
When both her small hands were buried in the deepest reaches of her victim's slick passage,
Feng laced her fingers together and slowly folded her hands into a double fist. Jasmine whined at
the expansion inside her, and again as her tormentor pushed the fist in another inch, so that the
knuckles now pressed against the sealed end of her tunnel. Feng began working her arms around,
then slowly in and out, testing the stretched pussy's width and elasticity while she punched her
trainee's cervix in slow motion. As she did she laughed and taunted the girl viciously for her huge
equestrian cunt.
The girl wanted to puke, out of pain and shame and sheer revulsion. She might not have been so
shocked if her violator had been male, but her natural orientation was arrow-straight and she had not
been programmed for lesbian contact.
She felt suddenly like a hand puppet, the arms that filled her lower body making painfully clear her
new role as a plaything for others. As Feng used her buried hands to rock the trainee's entire body
to and fro, so that the hanging jugs bumped against the side of the horse, the girl heard Deborah
screaming and crying inside her own head.
But Jasmine held position with her chin pressed into the padded horse, knees locked and round ass
high, with half the smug little Asian's arms stuffed inside her. A few months ago, the toned and fit
athlete would have turned and swatted the 95 pound dominatrix like a bug. Now, abused and
offended as she was, she was paralyzed and helpless - and not due only to the physical changes she'd
suffered. Even if she still had her strong swimmer's arms, after weeks of subliminal training and
mental conditioning she had simply lost the capacity for resistance.
Jasmine's gut turned, but her botox-treated throat would not expel her stomach's burning contents.
The only signs of stress on her pretty doll's face were a slight flush and an unusually rapid fluttering
of her long, dark lashes.
[...]
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