The Train by Duncan Cusic
After graduating high school, Kelli Templeton, flees a dysfunctional family in New York City for California. While on the train, she befriends John Thompson and adult movie producer Promus McGee, who entice her to become their playmate. They take her to Laura’s Place during a stopover in DC for her sexual training. Soon, the newly minted submissive is having sex with the black train conductor, teaching a virgin college student about the joys of sex, then performing him and multiple partners. Later, she’s purchased by wealthy, Emeritus CEO, Fitzhugh Aloysius Wellington Sand III and housed in a Bordello in Utah. It’s clear that she’s fallen prey to Mistress Laura, the handsome Aloysius Sand and their plans for her.
What was a grand sexual adventure at the outset has become a nightmare filled with debauchery and mind blowing servitude. The only question is; who will finally claim her, John Thompson, Promus McGee, Laura? Or will Aloysius Sand save her from them all?
Service to another, once ignited, becomes a way of life, and to be owned becomes her crusade. This is the story of a young woman’s awakening to the pleasures of sadistic enslavement and her submission to masochistic need.
Delving into bondage, discipline and mental subjugation, this story explores Kelli’s hunger for sexual humiliation and her proclivity for pain. Graphic sexual situations include slapping, oral, anal, sex with females, sex with multiple partners, and slavery. Can this once innocent high school graduate survive such depravity?
|# of Pages||180|
|Artist Credit||Cover Art Image © Will Walker|
“Ask me, Kelly.”
She had trouble thinking. Could this be her last chance to save herself? Was she still able to escape?
“Please make love to me, Mister Thompson,” she whispered.
Thompson stopped petting and his expression grew grim.
“I require the words, Kelly. You know the words.”
Kelli cried out. “Fuck me, Mr. Thompson!”
Promus leaned closer, and if anyone were paying attention, they would have seen great rivers of moisture begin a stroll to his cheeks.
Thompson brushed his lips to hers. Leaving nothing to chance, he mapped her body. He forced her breath to catch and her heart to throb and the yearning of her youth to blossom. He whispered and nuzzled her ear.
“You want to be fucked badly, don’t you my girl.”
Was it his deeply exploring finger, or his consuming mouth, or his embrace constricting her breath? Was it the way he stroked her bosom or the excitement of being watched, or was it the magnificent post standing at his middle that was stealing her will. Her eyes consumed it, so long, so hot, so heavy?
“Yes, please,” she replied.
He rolled on his back and lay beside her, “come aboard then.” He pulled her on top.
“Thank you,” she said, being placed. She spread her legs to his liking. She felt his cock ease into position and then she felt staked. She groaned as it surged up her middle. She did battle when it hurt and she screamed as his cock drove deeply into her depths.
His hands grabbed her hips and his thighs reset her motion. “Slowly, Kelli,” he cautioned.
“Okay,” she breathed.
“Better?” He asked.
She nodded agreement while her blue eyes sparkled, and a silly smile crossed her lips as they found the gait together.
Up her wetness he pushed, and down he pulled. Up she arose and down she descended. She accepted him and rejected him, and her breasts began to bounce. Her knees flexed and she began to sweat and to whine.
“Do you like it— the feel of my cock, the girth of it, the length?” Thompson asked.
From somewhere in shadow another appeared. She was near and she was far, she was unable to comprehend, but only to allow.
“Please John, more. I want more,” she panted. She moved her mouth to the side for further attention, for another invasion, for a second column, for additional perversion.
Pummeled and penetrated she erupted. It was a small concussion, brought about mostly by sublime wickedness. It was her first ever coupled to a man, coupled with men.
“Bastard! I told you, not tonight!” Thompson yelled. “Pull out or I promise you shall rue the day of your deception!”
“Please John, let me do it. I’m so hot, and her mouth is so soft. She is burning up! She wants it.” McGee’s dick was trapped tightly within her mouth.
“Pull out now, or you shall never taste her dessert again.” Thompson ordered. “And you release him, girl! This instant!”
“Oh please, John,” she choked.
“Go to the lavatory and finish yourself, Promus. You shall not participate further.”
There was a drumming of disappointed feet and the opening and the closing of a door, and then Kelli began to cry. Her movement slowed and tears coursed down her cheeks. Disappointment covered her face.
“Stop it. I’ll have none of your crying. You are mine on this train, Kelli! You have given yourself to me, not to others, understand?”
“Ohhh!” Her tears splashed to his chest. “I thought you wanted it. I did it for you, Mr. Thompson. I’m sorry.”
“Say it then, Kelli. Tell me you are mine and that you belong to me on this train.”
She was conflicted. Are females so easily overcome by men? She looked away from his face. Should she agree to such a thing?
“I guess…okay. If it’s what you want!”
“Say the words.”
“I belong to you on this train.”
“And you’ll do what you’re told.”
“Yes,” she said, and her head dipped in agreement.
He began the pounding anew. Without delay he relit her coals and coaxed her to race. With a rush he renewed her spirit and he fucked her hard.
“Push down, Kelli,” he said, “Smash your pelvis against mine and rub your clitoris.”
She began to softly moan and to spit out expletives. She found heaven. She had never experienced such pleasure. She wanted it to never end. This is so wrong. This is so right. This is so exciting, and this feels so good. This is so much better than masturbation. Even the lightness of a stroking feather or the interest of rummaging fingers or even a tongue could not match the pounding.
“Oh, god. Fuck me, John. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” she howled.
Thompson’s hand became a paddle. He spanked her butt. He beat her ass. “Fucking slut,” he cried.
Pain was so more than the black. Pain was heaven and it was hell and it could very well be contentment, Kelli thought. Her frenzy escalated. Her muscles turned to fire and her bone became clay and her flesh dreamed of supplication. Like an erupting mountain top the pressure broke, and her teeth rattled.
Yes, John! A slut!”
“A dirty bitch of a slut,” he cried out.
Kelli felt faint, she shuddered, and she frothed. Lost within his arms she sparked, while fearsome convulsions blew her apart. She was slain and resurrected; restored, and reborn. She was a harlot. She exploded again, then again, and then once more.
His organ began to pulse and swell. His hands gripped her flanks.
“Good God!” he yelled.
Kelli felt the gush. She was nearly delirious. She felt his seed surge deeply into her hungry depths.
“Oh sweet Jesus,” she whispered.
Thompson leaned up and kissed her eyes. He carefully eased her head to his shoulder. Gently he stroked her flanks and caressed her back. She sagged on his frame. He drew the covers over and arranged his body for her comfort. He wondered at this not-yet-established, hot young girl— as depraved as any woman he had ever known—and made plans for her enslavement.
Thusly entwined, shielded in dreams, Kelly slept, only slightly aware of the shadow re-entering and creeping forward in the darkness.