A Slave's Punishment Continues

Kajira was a bosomy slave that belonged to the head of Genetic Solutions. She, and it were top drawer, controlled by the government under the wing of the country's experimental breeding program. The cunt, tall, willowy and disobedient had been brought in for punishment. She was lashed, now, to the table in the pump room for any experimental projects the boys in the back room cared to launch. Today, though, was Friday, and nobody wanted to start anything too complicated. So they decided to use old-fashioned methods: They would screw her to death.

It was hour two of her re-training now. Max was finished with her, and returned grinning. "Now that's the way I like to kick off the day, fellas. I tell you that broad in there has firecrackers in her snatch....You're next, Milty. You lucky bastard."

Milton was gabbing with the other guys, the usual grumble about wives, raises and the cost of living. He unwound himself from his normal slouch, and stood up. "Duty calls, huh?"

The ugliest ball player in any league anywhere, Martin Long had been a star pitcher for the hottest team in the east until injuries side-lined him. No sweat, he was fucking tired of baseball anyway, so he went to work for his brother,Conrad , a big shot CEO in the 'sex business'. What the hell, Connie would find him something easy to do. Conny was a fucking billionaire. What did money mean to him?"

Max just grinned and pushed the big ball player toward the door. "Go see for yourself, kid. This is Uncle Conrad's private stock."

"Well, what the hell? I haven't got anything better to do this morning," Milty grumbled. (Once banking seven mill a year, Milty was conscious of the value of his time.)

Meanwhile, Kajira, slave in training was breathlessly waiting, little heart beating in expectation: long of leg, round of edible tush, and ripe as a tomato on the window sill. Pumped up as she was with optimal hormones, she was always horny. In the few minutes since Max had left,she had grown lonely . She couldn't wait for the door to open so she could see what manner of punishment was coming in to screw the loneliness out of her. She killed time by checking the spark in her cunt. You know, that hot spot in the back of a woman's pussy that makes her eyes light up? It was working good, and she pulled her fingers out and licked them clean.

When Milty turned the knob and pushed the door open, Kajira was withdrawing two fingers from her mouth. She was still spread wide, knees locked in a spreader bar, ankles tied to stirrups. Her swollen tits were heaving in anticipation. She smelled like mimosa. Milty looked stunned.

"Oh, my god..." Kajira thought . This guy was seven feet tall, skinny as a rail, and ugly as sin.

For his part, all the kid saw was a broad on the table with her legs spread, and for the first time this morning, he was perking up. Her big blue eyes turned to him, and widened when he unzipped his pants and released his major league prick. More like a pole for vaulting than anything human, it sprang out of his pants happy as a pooch thrown a rare steak. The big rod smelled the pussy in the room, and turned toward it like a sunflower in Auntie Mae's garden. "Ain't much on foreplay, sweetheart. Never saw much use in it. So we'll get right to it, OK?" he chuckled. "What a question! Doesn't look like you have much choice, pussy pants."

So with some of the awkward athletic grace, he'd shown on the mound he stepped up to the plate, lowering the slab a little so he could swing his leg over it and point that monster at her throbbing little pussy. "Hang on, Baby. Daddy's gonna hit a home run now." When he had sunk it into her about half way, he paused to check the _expression on her face. It was the fourth of July in Manhattan there, so he plunged it into her up to the hilt.

Kajira squealed, and gripped him tightly, "OOOOh, ouch, OH, that hurts!" -- but it didn't look like that to Milty. It looked like the bitch had been struck by lightning, and liked it. Anyway, Milty wasn't listening, now, he was ramming it in and out, back and forth, like a piston on some heartless sex machine.

"Holy Mother of Baseball," Milty moaned when the cum began pouring out of her snatch. Her nipples were as hard as rocks, a little sweat on her upper lip. Damn. It wasn't HIS cum but, oh, shit... yes, it was now, and he exploded spraying more cream down into her little bat-burning fireplace. No place to go, it slid out and down the sluice under her pneumatic rump. Milty grinned at his captive. "Now that was nice, wasn't it, sweetheart? Let's see, what shall we do next. Gonna get you off the table now. That's right. Let's get inventive."

Actually, Milty didn't know how to spell 'inventive' but he thought it would make a few points with his new little fan. Hey! A big word now and then always let the shmucks know he was no dope. Our Kajira was gasping for breath, but game -- you could see she was game, and had really gotten herself in the spirit of things. She sighed. What next. It was only a quarter of ten and she had the whole day ahead of her. She wondered if she would get a coffee break. Wasn't that the rule anyway?

At that instant, the billionaire boss came in, looking stern. "Just checking on you two. Doing your job, I hope Milton? This snatch of mine has been a naughty girl and I want her punished good." "Doin' my best, Boss." he laughed, "Is this winch here strong enough to lift her up where I want her?" Milty pointed at the sling over the table.

"Absolutely, Milton. Everything in this room is strong enough for anything you want to do. What do you want to do?"

"Oh, I just want to hoist her up like this, Boss. Bottoms up, and get her swinging when I drive this rod up her ass."

"Should be fine. Better get going. -- Almost ten o'clock," mumbled Conrad, looking harried like the white rabbit in Wonderland. Always conscious of manners, he gave a wave back, and left. He was going to have to take a break pretty soon. A bunch of new secretaries were lined up and ready for testing. Work. Work. Work.

"Sir," Kajira was whimpering, "this is not too comfortable." Kajira was bent double and hanging bottoms up in a sling, long hair spilling down, blood rushing to her face. Milty tested the swing of the thing, lowered it slightly, poised his prick over her ass, and grabbed the lube. A glance at the target made him grin. "Guess we won't need this, you little hot stuff cunt. You're wet as a ballpark in a thunder storm." So poor Kajira felt the bat push into her, and shrieked again. Milty's eyes were closed as his rod slid into that tight, hot little thundercloud.

"You're gonna love this, sweetheart," he whispered. Sure, what he meant was, "I'M gonna love this," but what the r.b.i's.... As he rammed it into her, he reached down and pinched her nipples hard, cupping her breasts in his hands. Kajira's hot ass grabbed ahold of the mighty intruder and held on for dear life.

The combination was too much for both of them. In a few volcanic, h eart-pounding and eye-popping minutes, the cum was everywhere. Milty got her unstrung and laid her back on the table, then he bent down to her little hot face and smiled, eyes twinkling, "Bad, bad slave, Kajira. Bad, bad slave." As soon as the door closed behind the big guy, Kajira called out weakly, "Wait! You forgot to clean me up!"

Do ball players pick up their bats on the ground? Do they clean up their spit? Hell, no.