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?
Through the window, she watched as weird wraiths and multi-colored lights levitated through space, and she was intrigued by telephone poles that ricocheted through the glass like marching soldier sticks. She found security and courage in one man’s snoring, and in the harmony of another man’s breathing. Her body became saturated with hunger and punctuated by the music of the night. In tune with the swaying and rumbling, her fingers crept across her body.
Shielded by the darkness, she thought she alone was awake and free to play. Her temperature climbed, her legs began to simmer, her temples began to throb, and she slipped into sodden surrender. A moan escaped her lips.
Aided by fantasy and subtle movements, a fingertip pushed into her folds. Beneath her skirt and inside the panties, she found the fleshy bud. Her middle finger began to circle and scratch and to occasionally slip deeper into the wetness, and her legs began to spread uncontested. She chewed on her lower lip. Her buttocks began to clinch, and her stomach began to arch, and her flesh began to quiver.
“Oh my god,” she wailed, when a hand interrupted and John Thompson entered the game.
“Let me,” he whispered, moving closer and forcefully stilling her hand.
Her breath caught and she whimpered like a child. She abandoned herself to his wishes and committed her soul to his care. She radiated. Her nub pulsed, her heart thumped, and her blood pumped with eagerness and anticipation.
“Slut,” her subconscious mocked.
His hands removed the blanket. They caressed her legs and thighs. He pulled down her panties and pushed away her palms. He flipped her half over on her side. Front to front, he popped the buttons of her blouse and with his teeth attacked a nipple. His finger delved deeply into her cunt.
“Are you on the pill?”
Her breath caught, and lust ran naked upon her skin. She began to babble incoherently.
“Speak clearly, Kelli,” he commanded. “A “yes” gets you further enjoyment, and a “no” gets you sleep. What will it be?”
Her eyes squeezed tighter. Still, she remained mute.
“If you can’t speak, girl, or if you’re too shy, you must at least shake your head. Otherwise, I shall be finished with you!”
“Yes, yes, yes. Please! Please don’t stop!”
“Good,” he said, pushing her legs apart. A finger traced her crease, while his thumb stimulated her clitoris.
“Who gave you the mark?” he asked.
“No one,” she said.
“Must have been a vampire? I hate vampires, don’t you?”
She clung to him. She offered her mouth to him and dueled with his tongue.
She pulled back and said, “Yes sir! I hate vampires too!”
He caressed her cheek. He guided her hand to his erection. He nuzzled his face close to hers and said, “You will do as you’re told, will you not, Kelli?”
She was panting now. Around his length, her fist adjusted.
“Oh god, yes, Mister Thompson. Yes!”
His hand returned to her pussy and her heat. “Good girl,” he said.
“Oh!” she whimpered.
Forcing her head to his cock, he said, “Suck!”
Without complaint, she offered her heated breath, and then her hot mouth and then her wet tongue. With token resistance she stabbed. She bobbed. She twisted and chewed. She sucked for his pleasure. Up and down, up and down, and deep into her throat. She licked his cock and kissed his sack.
“Now, Mister Thompson. Come for me now,” she whispered.
“Not yet, girl.”
He turned her around and set her astride. Along her thighs he kissed, near her knees he licked, at her nest he plunged.
She thought she would die. His whiskers tickled and his lips pressed, and she shook. Where his tongue delved and his mouth explored, she foamed; and where she pulsed, her stem blossomed and her flower peeked out. He blew hot breath against her skin. She tried pulling away. Playing on his mercy she wrenched and she strained. She begged, “Oh my, my, my, my god.”
Her head went down. Her mouth filled, and she gobbled ferociously.
“This is what it’s like! This is the way it should be!” The deep recesses of her mind reveled.
“Oh, do it! Do it! Do It.” Her body began to shake and her guts began to tremble and her heart began to swirl in gratitude. She felt hard fingers spread her open, felt moist breaths prepare the way, felt his tongue licking, and felt his lips seducing her soul.
Uncontrolled reverberation escaped her throat. Around his manhood between her tonsils, within her jaws, the cock huffed and stuffed and puffed. It became fat and filled her throat with nectar. At the first volley she choked, at the second she swallowed, and as the third drained into her belly, she soared with strange exhilaration, with polluted intoxication, with shameless delight. She blew out a second helping. Like a newly formed volcano another climax spread, her toes began to curl and her nipples began to rattle and her eyes began to tear. She began to hum. Her flower began flutter, her legs began to squeeze, and her hips began gyrate. Her thighs began to open and snap, her drips became a flood, and the sounds muffled in her throat became an unstoppable wail. Plugged and pouring she quivered. She flexed her knees and dumped her discharge; riding, she consumed his hot beverage and convulsed.
“I think we should shave your pussy, Kelli. Don’t you?” she thought John Thompson had said in the moment.