The Enslavement of Puss

By Janice Christine

I first noticed them on the dance floor.  Six of them.  Circling me. 
Watching me move.  

I've caught guys staring before -- everybody has -- but these men were
different.  They showed no trace of embarrassment when I noticed them
looking at me; made not even the slightest effort to conceal their leers. 
I tried my "ice" look, contemptuously holding my gaze on their eyes.  With
most men this worked, freezing them out until they'd avert their eyes,
guilty over being caught.  But not with these men.  They just continued
watching me, calmly, as if they were assessing me.  In scant seconds I
couldn't stand it any more.  I lowered my eyes, unable to maintain my aura
of disdain.  Surrendering.  

I felt a hot blush suffuse my face and creep down my neck, even more
embarrassed knowing how easily they could see my breasts turn pink,
revealed by the plunging neckline of my dress.  I tossed my head, shaking
my long auburn hair, trying to project an attitude of nonchalance,
dismissal.  But, out of the corner of my eye I saw them still staring,
only now they were smiling.  

This was too much.  I stopped dancing, preparing to walk off the dance
floor, defeated.  My eyes lowered, I took a single step and found my path
blocked.  It was one of them.  My senses were assaulted by him, looming
over me, large, powerful, a musky smell of exertion from a clean man's
body.  I felt another presence at my side.  A large hand possessively
stroked my ass, cupped one cheek and squeezed.  I gasped.

"Keep dancing, Puss" he whispered in my ear, warm breath tickling me,
wafting my hair slightly, "You move so well.  Amuse us, Puss."

I'll never understand why I didn't just scream and try to run.  I think I
was too frightened to scream.  But there was something else, too. 
Something about these men.  Their complete self assurance, the way they
casually handled me, fondling my body like a pet animal.  Traitorously, my
nipples tightened -- HARD.  I briefly wished I'd worn a bra, my little
nubs of sensitive flesh were tenting the sheer silk of my dress, clearly
displaying themselves for all the world to see.  I felt a familiar warmth
in my pussy, the flood of lubrication, my clitty tingling, begging to be
touched.  I was terrified, utterly mortified, frozen in place -- and, oh
so aroused!  

I moaned softly, unable to contain myself as a hand brushed across my
breasts.  The flat of the palm just barely touching my erect nipples and
nothing else, forcing me to feel the sensuous fabric caressing my needy,
aroused flesh.  Once more, from very close, lips slightly brushing my ear,
a whisper "Dance Puss.  Let yourself go.  Feel the music."

Unable to believe I was actually doing so, even as I complied, I obeyed
the whispered command.  Self consciously I started dancing again,
awkwardly moving to the music.  I sensed their eyes on me, drinking me in.
 Every now and then, as I danced, one of them would enter my field of
vision.  They weren't even pretending to dance now.  They simply stood,
casually, almost lounging, watching me intently.  

At first I'd been hesitant.  Jerky in my movements.  Timid.  But as I felt
the heat in my pussy building under their possessive stares, I began
loosening up.  Moving sensually.  Deliberately striving to arouse. 
Shaking my breasts.  Leaning over and wiggling my ass.  Twirling to let my
skirt flare, showing my crotch.  Shimmying my body for these powerful men.

As my dancing grew ever more erotic, I dimly became aware that others on
the dance floor were also slowing, barely moving, watching me.  A space
had formed around me, a clearing in the forest of dancers.  I was
surrounded by voyeurs, open looks of hunger on their faces, but the six
men I'd first noticed stood out from the others.  They seemed to glow,
radiate power, intensity, like redwoods in a stand of scrub pine.

I gradually became totally lost in a world narrowed down to one purpose,
one goal; pleasing these men.  Sweat glistened on my body, trickling down
between my breasts.  I actually felt the slickness of my own excitement
seeping from my pussy, making the insides of my thighs slippery when they
brushed together as I moved my body for the pleasure of my watchers.  I
felt helpless and weak, an object of pleasure.  A supplicant, begging for
their attention and approval.  I'd gone from being afraid of what they
might do to me to being anxious they might not find me interesting enough!
 

I slowed my pace, moving to sway bare inches from first one, then another
of the six, each one in succession, running my hands over my body, fingers
splayed, displaying my need.  Eventually I came back to the first, still
seductively working my body for him.  He reached out with both hands,
sliding his palms over my breasts, down my belly, my hips, down to my
naked thighs.  Then his hands traveled upwards, under my skirt, caressing
my inner thighs, feeling the slick moisture which stained my crotch.  I
raised my arms to the back of my head, flipping my hair, my eyes closed in
total surrender to his touch.  With no thought of protest whatsoever, I
felt him slide my panties down my legs and moaned in delight.

I stepped out of my panties, back into the center of the circle of
watchers.  I saw him raise the panties to his face, sniff, and laugh in
triumph at the undeniable scent of his conquest of me.  He casually
flipped my panties over his shoulder back into the crowd of onlookers and
gestured me to increase the pace of my dance once more.  I was vaguely
aware of my panties being passed around in the crowd, but soon forgot
about it completely as I began moving more rapidly, complying with his
motioned order.

For what seemed hours, I twirled and gyrated, displayed and flaunted
myself, hoping I was pleasing them.  I knew my dress was flaring, showing
off the tiny, manicured patch of pubic hair which was all that remained
after my bikini trim.  I sensed, rather than actually heard, the
collective sighs from the crowd as my naked ass flashed from under my
dress.  This only drove me to new heights of exhibitionism; I'd become
utterly consumed by my need to arouse them, becoming more and more aroused
myself.  I'd sink down into a crouch, or leap upwards as high as I could,
or throw one leg out into a high kick, all the while moving myself as
seductively as I knew how, my arms and hands constantly in motion, tracing
my curves, flipping my hair.

After a timeless period, as I was feeling my strength ebb, I noticed the
original six had gathered together in one spot.  The rest of the crowd
gave them space, sensing their uniqueness, their power.  I directed my
dance towards them, a twirling spin flaring my skirt outwards almost
horizontal from my waistline, and ended by sinking to my knees before
them, head lowered, hair disheveled, dewy with sweat, gasping for breath. 
The one who'd removed my panties, possibly their leader, reached a hand
down and lifted my chin with one finger, forcing me to look in his eyes. 
I licked my lips, panting, desperate to be found acceptable to him.  He
held my gaze steadily for a few moments until I could bare it no longer,
and lowered my eyes submissively, feeling the hot flush of embarrassment
burning my face and breasts.

I felt the pressure on my chin increasing, signaling me to rise.  I got my
feet under me and slowly straightened, without using my hands for support,
trying to be as graceful as possible.  I panicked for a second, afraid
that I had been found somehow unworthy, as I watched all of them turn and
walk towards the exit.  But then I realized they expected me to follow,
and I began slowly walking after them, as if drawn by a magnet.  I didn't
know what to expect, but I sensed that I had to be totally compliant,
beautiful, sensuous, as feminine and submissive as I was able -- they
would accept no less.

I could hardly believe I was doing it, as I meekly followed them towards
the door, as if in a trance.  I was frightened but I was even more
desperately hoping I could satisfy them.  I ached to be taken by them,
savagely, brutally, fiercely, like an animal in heat.  Several men in the
crowd seemed to consider trying to stop them from leading me away, but the
combination of their self assured, stern faces, and my obvious willingness
to follow them, silenced any protests.

Once outside in the parking lot, alone with just the six men, I began to
feel less sure of my decision to follow them.  A part of me was screaming
"What are you doing!"  This was insane!  I knew absolutely nothing about
them.  It still wasn't too late to get away.  I could just run back into
the bar and be safe in the crowd.  But then I noticed one had my purse. 
When had he picked it up?  How had he known it was mine?  Had they been
stalking me?

They paused by a black stretch limousine.  I hesitantly approached the one
with my purse, intending to ask for it back, and then leave.  Just as I
was opening my mouth, the leader gave me a hard look, seeming to see right
through me, into my mind, reading my intentions.  His fierce hungry eyes
froze me, rooting me in place like a deer caught in the headlights of an
oncoming car.

"No turning back, Puss.  You belong to us now." He said.  Then to the
others, "Take her."

I gasped and opened my mouth to scream, but they were prepared, too fast
for me.  My own panties were shoved in my gaping mouth, muffling any sound
I could have made.  My arms were held in iron grips by two of them,
standing on either side of me.  I struggled and kicked out, but they only
laughed at my puny efforts to escape.  One of them opened the trunk of the
limo and brought a roll of duct tape over to me.  He tore off a strip and
taped my mouth shut, very effectively gagging me now with my panties still
balled up in my mouth.  The others then forced my arms behind my back,
raising them until my forearms were parallel across the center of my back,
left wrist against right elbow and right wrist against left elbow.  They
bent me over at the waist, pulling my joined forearms upwards away from my
back painfully, while the one with the duct tape wrapped it around and
around my forearms taping them together securely.   

Then they released me.  I straightened shakily, experimentally pulling my
arms, but they were totally immobilized, locked together across the middle
of my back.  I jerked my head about wildly, emitting barely audible
squeaks from behind the gag, searching for someone to help me.  But the
parking lot was totally deserted.  Tears rolled down my cheeks.  There was
no escape.

The leader walked up to me, standing only inches from me.  He put his hand
out and caressed my face, brushing my tears from my cheeks, tracing my
jawline.  Then his palm slipped under my chin, gripping my face, his
fingers biting painfully into my jaws.  I looked up at him piteously,
moaning through the gag, trying to beg him not to hurt me.

Still holding my head in one hand, he reached out with his other hand and
grabbed my dress where it covered my breasts.  His fist clenched,
twisting, bunching the fabric, pulling it away from my breasts.  He paused
like that, looked into my eyes and smiled insolently.  Then I shuddered in
violent fear and squeaked in surprise as he ripped my dress off my body
with one powerful jerk of his arm, tearing it down the front until the
straps across my back snapped and one of the side seams gave way.  In one
smooth motion he pulled the now worthless rag completely away from me like
a magician pulling tablecloth out from under a dinner setting.  Smiling
possessively, he released my face and stepped back to get a better look at
my naked body.

I was utterly humiliated.  Standing there trembling, unable to free my
arms to cover myself, my breasts thrust outwards by the position of my
arms locked behind my back, my nipples still almost painfully erect, I
couldn't even summon the courage to try to run.  It was all I could do to
remain standing while they stood around me, enjoying the sight of my body,
and seemed to bask in my fear and humiliation.

After several moments one them came and took me by my hair, bending me
over backwards, opening my body even more for their inspection.  He ran a
finger along the length of my pussy.  In total embarrassment, I could feel
my lips were already puffed out, swollen, slightly parted, and slick with
my dew.  I shuddered at the feel of his hand on me, my knees buckling.  It
was only his grip in my hair, sending shooting flashes of pain through my
scalp, which kept me upright.  He laughed when he felt how wet I was.

Then he bent me face downwards and walked me over to the limo, forcing my
cheek down onto the trunk lid.  I felt hands caress my ass.  Squeezing
each cheek.  Another hand reached between my ass cheeks and once again
stroked my slit.  Then I felt a flash of coldness on one ass cheek,
followed by a sharp sting.  I jerked my head about as best I could and saw
one of the men pulling a hypodermic from my ass.  I moaned in helpless
fear.

Next, my ankles were taped together tightly, and I was unceremoniously
tumbled into the trunk of the car.  My position inside the trunk was
awkward and painful, and one of them adjusted my body to a more
comfortable angle.  Obviously they didn't want their new acquisition
overly harmed.  My head was beginning to spin.  The drug they'd shot into
me was taking effect.  My heart was racing, there was no way out!  What
was going to happen to me?  I could see outside a bit now and watched
them, trying to learn what they planned while I was still conscious.  The
men laughed, talking a bit among themselves, totally confident that I was
theirs.

"Take her car and follow us." the leader said to the man who held my
purse.

"Okay, Bob." he answered, turning towards where'd I'd parked earlier that
evening.

Then the trunk lid was slammed down.  I could still hear muffled voices
but very few distinct words.  

"She sure is a hot one, Bob.  You really know how to pick 'em" I heard
barely audibly through the lid of the trunk.  I could no longer feel the
rest of my body.  I was slipping away.

"She'll do." Was the last thing I heard through the ringing in my ears
from my pounding heart just before I blacked out.

- End -