Passing the Baton 2, Lila\'s story

Ch 12

Lila kissed Manu tenderly one last time and followed Aisha out of the dungeon. She saw the grass; she felt the heat of the midday sun on her naked skin. Her cuffed wrists chained together in front of her, were also attached, by a single chain to the two rings on her unhealed breasts and to her nose ring. A second, longer, leash led from her nose ring to Aisha’s hand. Not that she needed it, she would follow the slave girl willingly, but it added to her humiliation and discomfort.

Her nose smarted with every step she took. She kept her hands as high as she could, straining her breasts to the maximum she could tolerate. That was the first of her quandaries. If she lowered her hands, relieving the pain in her breasts, the pain from her nose ring would be intolerable. She had to balance both discomforts, while following Aisha to her first destination. At least, for this part of her degradation Manu would not be there to see it.

The officers would have her first. In the privacy of their own homes, each would have her for an hour. Aisha would lead her to each one, naked, bound as she was now. Lila tried not to think about what would happen later that day.

The commander of the guard would have her first. Two girls approached his house, the largest, aside from the palace, of course; the one in the lead, clad in gauzy pants and a short vest, in the sheik’s dark yellow, livery colors, knocked on the door; the second one, completely naked, except for the rings on her breasts and nose, knelt at her side.

They did not have long to wait. The door opened and a veil clad woman let them in. She did not return Aisha’s Salaam. Her voice was a snarl as she directed them to wait in the commander’s study.

In the study, Aisha remained standing, the leash in her hand, while Lila promptly knelt again trying, in vain, to achieve a relief in one of her ringed organs that did not provide intolerable pain on the others. They did not have long to wait.

The officer, a tall, vicious man, entered the study, clad only in his bathrobe. In his hand he carried a crop. He took in the sight of the kneeling slave girl, a cruel sneer splitting his face.

At his orders, Aisha fastened with thin chains, Lila’s breasts and nose to a board on the wall. The chains were of enough length that, immobile and bent at the waist, they hung loose, barely, only their weight adding to Lila’s discomfort. Her wrists she fastened together in front of her.

Bent over at the waist, Lila pressed her forehead against the board to relieve the tension in her lower back. The commander’s cruelty in leaving her arms dangling in front of her did not fail to register in her mind. Had her arms been fastened, like her nose and breasts, she could use them for support. Now, she must endure whatever came at her, for the next hour, in this uncomfortable position. She had seen his crop and his sneer. She need not see more.

“Leave us,” the commander’s harsh voice rang in Lila’s ears.

His hand slapping her on the rump startled her. Her involuntary jerk snapped the ring in her nose bringing tears to her eyes. He did not make a sound. In the silent room, Lila’s ears heard the swish of the crop cutting through the air; her only warning that, however, allowed her to tense up for the cut of the crop on her ass cheeks. She yelped in pain but managed not to move. It became easier later. She found that resting her forehead against the wall helped keep her nose ring from pulling painfully at her nose. Despite the fiery pain across her butt, she relished this minimal measure of control.

The officer hit her ass harder and harder, in silent rage. Her whimpers of pain were not satisfactory enough for his sadistic impulses. Used to untrained girls, who cowered in fear and screamed at the least touch of the cane, his frustration grew. He could not understand the lack of visible fear on his victim, or the docility that she showed, immobile, presenting her ass for his abuse. The crop broke in his hand so hard were his strokes. He seized a whip and hit Lila once, twice with it; then he saw the time and threw the lash aside. He needed to finish with Lila during his assigned time.

Lila heard the lash hit the floor. Her ass on fire, she cried in silence as she waited for the next assault which, if she guessed right would be with a different instrument.

He shoved his hard prick right up her back way; her sphincter cramped under this violent assault, and the officer, finally, heard her scream, once. Under Manu’s instructions she had generously lubed her Khyber Pass with petrolatum and, at least for this first assault, it held up well. The dick invading her guts was not of unusual size and, once the initial shock wore off, it was not too bad. The man spurted in her depths and tried to get her to clean him, forgetting, for a moment that her nose and nipples were attached to the wall. His failed attempt to get her to turn around finally produced the wailing screams his crop could not.

Tears running down her eyes, Lila, finally freed of the wall, knelt and sucked and licked at the man’s shrinking dick, until he was satisfied. Just at this time, Aisha knocked on the door to retrieve her. Her wrists chained together and to her breasts and nose, as before, she followed the plumper girl. On her way out Lila caught sight of her ass on a mirror. A twitch of sadness crossed her face when she realized that the cuts on her bottom would never have time to heal.

It was time for the second officer.

When Aisha knocked on the door, the officer’s wife, unveiled opened the door for them. Lila noticed that she was young, and of great beauty. There was no hatred in her green, kohl lined eyes, when she guided them both to her husband’s study. Indeed, despite knowing that her husband would be plowing the naked slave’s ass or pussy in only minutes, there was a deep sadness, and perhaps even pity.

“May Allah protect you,” she said, leaving.

For some reason, this kindness brought tears to Lila’s eyes. She knelt on the floor of the study waiting for the officer. The floor was lined with carpets, soft under her knees.

“His name is Ahmed,” Aisha said.

She knelt at her side until the second officer came in, and at that point, she stood up, bowing to him.

“I shall return in an hour sir,” Aisha said, leaving her alone.

Ahmed, younger and in better shape than the chief officer, lifted her chin, the tension on her nose chain bringing tears to her eyes. He sat on a chair and pulled Lila, not ungently, by her chain. Lila responded promptly taking him into her mouth, her hands around the base of his cock, cradling his balls. In this position there was no tension on the chain, which Lila was grateful for.

Her relief was short lived for, as his climax approached, he seized the chain and pulled her in with it. The sudden pain in her nose and in her breasts broke her concentration; she choked on his load, sputtering, coughing, struggling to breathe, and spitting his semen all over his belly. He ordered her to clean it all up which she did with her tongue. He then released her breast rings from the chain, keeping her wrists and nose chained together.

He ordered her to stand by the wall, her hands above her head, her legs open. Lila did so watching him with submissive, downcast eyes. She saw the bull whip in his hands.

The crack of the bull whip preceded the wheal of fire on her breasts. She screamed and writhed with the pain, the fire of the lash on her tender flesh. She did not break position however, not even when the lash hit her thick nipple rings bringing a new level of torment to her breasts. Her shrieks of agony carried though and, kneeling outside the house, Aisha heard her. The young woman could not contain her tears, her sobs in synch with Lila’s soul rending shrieks.

Not soon enough, Ahmed’s cock rose to the occasion again. He stopped lashing Lila’s breasts; he grabbed a yard ruler and lay supine on the carpeted floor. His cock towered over his body, like an oil derrick in the desert. Lila straddled him, taking his girth, to her relief, in her front. She impaled herself on his dick, feeling him hit her cervix, deep inside; the deep pain, which would have bothered her on any other occasion, she barely felt today. The pain from her lacerated breasts, and her ringed nipples demanding precedence, even from the cuts on her ass.

He began to beat her breasts again with the yard ruler. The slaps of the wooden slat, hitting her rings every time, again brought screams to her throat. She had to ride him, to bring him off, and he controlled her with his ruler, hitting her breasts cruelly, to make her go faster. His arousal greater and greater, his ruler hit her harder and faster. Her screams now melded into a long, piercing wail; no longer in time with his blows, just in time with her ragged breaths.

Finally, when her breasts were two mounds of purple and red tissue, and her blood splattered over his chest from her nipple rings, now red from her blood, his member erupted in her tunnel. He stopped.

“Get off” he ordered, his only words to her.

He left her, untied, hands over her head, his jism dripping out of her pussy, standing in the middle of the room. Lila saw the sperm, drip from her lips, and fall on the expensive carpet on the floor; her nipples, bleeding through her rings also dripped blood on the rug. Through the haze of pain that crossed her body she managed a chuckle. The expensive, hand woven rug was ruined.

“That feels right,” she mumbled, just as Aisha came to take her to her next appointment. There were two officers more.

The third officer was a thin, almost emaciated man, he was already waiting for her when she arrived and did not seem pleased at the delay. Aisha apologized profusely, hoping against hope that he would not take revenge on Lila. Lila, on the other hand, remained kneeling, eyes cast down, submissively, awaiting her fate. Aisha admired her detachment and hoped that, when and if her turn came, she could be so calm and docile.

His penis already erect, he wasted no time placing Lila on all fours and entering her roughly from behind. Lila grunted at this assault but, this, by now, was nothing to write home about. After a couple of minutes of intense thrusting, the man stopped and threw a smooth silk rope around her neck; there was a large knot on the middle of the rope, that laid right at the base of her windpipe. He started thrusting again and, at the same time, tightening the rope around Lila’s neck.

She could not control her panic when she first felt the rope around her throat and, when it began to tighten, choking her; she desperately began to struggle for air. Her breath wheezed in her throat as the knot threatened to close off her windpipe. Only when her chest muscles, burning with the effort to inhale a thin, insufficient, stream of air into her starving lungs, began to cramp, and her vision, starved for oxygen, began to narrow, did Lila realize that her impending death by strangulation, instead of a threat to be avoided, was a release, to be welcomed. She tried to will her body to cease fighting, her chest to abandon the struggle against the rope, but the will to live was strong in her young body, and her body continued its fight for survival despite her. Gratefully she observed the darkness creep in around her, and her vision fade to black.

And with a gasp, air, welcome, cool air, penetrated her lungs, and with it, light, conscience, and despair. She went to the edge, and was brought back. The officer, already out of her tunnel, must have achieved his climax for, ignoring her labored breath, her coughing, was already presenting her with a cock, dripping come, for her to clean.

After a few stolen seconds, to catch her breath, she licked his organ clean, noticing, to her renewed despair that it was recovering, hardening already.

This time it went into her ass, painfully pounding in her rear. The rope again began its slow constriction, her lungs, again, their fight for air, and far, far away, someone pounding at her ass. She barely noticed. All her energy, all her attention lay in her throat, the burning, the hissing of air, forced through her windpipe, nothing else mattered.

The officer knew his business; this time, he took his time. He knew how tight was too tight and how tight was just enough. Just enough, to keep Lila on the verge, desperate for air, her whole body, and her asshole, thrashing for just…another…breath. But not tight enough to let the darkness come to her aid, to let blessed oblivion come to set her free.

Deep inside her hellish struggle for air, deep, at the bottom, she knew. She knew that he would hold her there, just at the ragged edge, until he was ready and only then, when he was about to spurt his evil seed inside her ass, only at that moment, would he close down her throat, letting the darkness in. She could only hope he misjudged it enough, enough so that once it came, it would not leave.

Her endless struggle lasted for hours, hours of a constant, sibilant hiss, in, and out, just one more time; just one more breath. She noticed him pumping harder, and her trickle of air came no more. The darkness began to creep, and she welcomed it. Her body struggled, convulsed, seeking the molecules of oxygen it craved, but she watched the dark edge around her world coming closer, and welcomed it. Until it took over her world and she saw no more.