To Service is Divine Ch. 03

She needed an end to this nightmare and the return of her son. There was nothing to lose in appealing for mercy and hoping the entity inhabiting her son had a spark of compassion.

Her sad eyes turned up towards his. She presented a humbled expression meant to urge sympathy. Her heart pounded as she gazed at his silent neutral stare. Unlike Josh's dreamy-blue eyes, his were pitch-black, dilated and difficult to read. Her voice carried her sorrow when she spoke, "Please, I beg of you, let us go. Show mercy and allow us to maintain what dignity remains."

Her last statement caused her to choke. It made her to question if she had any dignity left after her whorish performance.

She fought to hold back the emotion that wailed quietly behind her trembling lips. She wanted to scream out her despair and misery, but to voice her torrid state of mind would be to admit defeat. She needed hope that it was possible to redirect the course he had fated she would become.

Holding back her flood of emotion, she continued her appeal. "I can't deny what you've done to me. I'm powerless to stop the progression of sin you've engineered as my fated purpose. I can only plead for mercy and beg that you restore my broken heart. He is my son, my true love. Give him back to me and I'll willingly be his whore. I'll fulfill his every desire. Do you hear me, Josh? I love you, come back to me, your mother needs you."

His dark eyes twinkled and instantly turned to a sparkling blue. His trademark smile was upturned and quirky. It was a familiar expression often given after she had told a silly joke.

"Josh?" she questioned excitedly. Her sadness lifted with hope and her mouth upturned into a smile.

His trademark smile became a grin.

He replied, "No, but if it makes you wet, call me Josh."

The malevolent glint returned and her heart skipped a beat. His reply completed the rending of her heart and all hope of salvation bleed away with his words.

He said, "Your son desired an incestuous mother and you unconditionally denied him. In denying that which he most desired, you sealed your fate. Humans are so predictable. If you had simply succumb to your son's desires from the beginning, I would have never have been brought into being."

"What have you done to Josh?" she screeched.

He jerked on the chain, pulling her close. "As for your loving son, Josh—consider him unreachable—never to return. Accept the fact that you'll never see him again. I assure you that by sunrise you won't even remember he existed or even care. However, you shouldn't worry, you'll soon give birth to lots of children. If not from your son's seed, then from the gift of many men you will soon service."

Mia whimpered in distress at his words.

She panicked; it was her last attempt to escape. "Let go of me! I'll not be anyone's breeding slut. I have no understanding of what's been done to me, but I won't allow—"

A thunderous whack resounded as flesh impacted flesh. Her head whipped to the side from a heavy slap given with an open hand. The jingling sounds of chain rattled as her cuffed wrists rose to defend against the possibility of another. His slap was brutal. It stung, left her dazed and caused her to stagger, tipping at the knees.

Just as quick as the slap, her hair was snatched from both sides of her head. His grip was forceful and kept her from tipping. The viciousness of the assault was sudden and shocking. Her restrained hands overlaid his in an attempt to pry them from her hair.

"Stop, you're hurting me!" she cried.

With chunks of her hair gripped in his hands, he forced her head downward. She was forced to look at the tubular shaft extending out from his crotch. He bent her further down and she pivoted at the hip. She was now up close and personal and could see the red tinted flesh and thick pulsating veins. The rounded knob was flared and engorged. The slit at the end was gaped and glistening with a milky wetness. It bobbed towards her face as she pointlessly struggled.

He demanded, "Look at Josh's long, thick cock. You'll soon worship it like it's your God. To service is divine. To service men is to serve your God. What you see pointing at you is your salvation. The only important thing in your life is to service cock, dick, prick, pussy, cunt, twat, snatch and especially Josh."

The words were spouted like a heated mandate, but she heard sweet chirps that made her juices flow once again. She swayed from the onslaught and her face flushed a tinted red.

She could feel those varied surges alter her perception. Any attempt to fight those impulses were futile. The tingling in her loins were becoming an inherent sensation. The sting from his slap and pain from his brutal tug had dissipated once those words drove her hands.

Part of her felt like an apparition staring through a window to watch her hands detach and drop downward with intended purpose.

She had once again succumb to passion.

Her instinct as a woman driven by lust was to wrap her hands around the girth his cock. Even without the stimulus, she had a genuine desire to feel the thickness, weight, and warm pulsing flesh in her hands. After all, this was her son's cock, regardless of the fact that the fiend controlled it. Touching her son's dick was no longer repulsive to her.

She felt relieved when he released his clutch on her hair. It gave her freedom to admire the rigidity of his shaft.

If she were to gaze upon her eccentric expression in a mirror, it would have jarred her psyche. She was enamored by the totem; her concentration entirely focused on the task of gliding both hands as one along its length. Her thumbs incessantly brushed the leaking tip to lather the translucent cream around the bulbous head.

Although focused on her undertaking, she was aware of him fidgeting. It gave her the impression that he was impatient or had an expectation.

Let him fidget from frustration she thought, I'm not done admiring his cock. The idea that she could actually cause the deviant to express an emotion other than cruelty, gave her satisfaction. She felt grateful that her smirk was hidden due to her downturned head.

After an elapsed period of time, he expressed his dissatisfaction. His tone carried a hint of irritation when he said, "Suck it, cunt. I've observed your lustful fixation to put it in your mouth. Do you plan on jerking me off all morning?"

His statement of observing her desire to put it in her mouth caused a tinge of shame. It was alarming to acknowledge she yearned to place it in between her gaped lips. On impulse she flicked her tongue out to wet her lips.

***

For a fleeting moment, her head was in motion with the intent to give into the compulsion, but an inner voice urged restraint of action. The apparition of her consciousness was still capable of reason and thought. It was like her thoughts were twin reflections voicing their opinions and arguments. It rationalized that if she was incapable of control and was determined to succumb to her passion, she needed to justify those deviant actions by countering them. It proposed that she counteract the impact of her actions by redefining an alternate motivation as to why she was perpetrating the deed.

It warned her that if she were to simply gave in and commit such atrocious acts, she was defeated and her fate was sealed. To be defeated was to lose herself and her sanity. If she did not fight, Josh would be lost to her, along with her husband.

There was strangeness in knowing that her mind had conflicting views of thought that seemed intent on gaining dominance over the other. It was as if her rational mind was competing against a persona now characterized by surges of lust. She was deeply concerned that her mind was fracturing and the conflicting voices were simply a warning sign. Two voices in one mind; one intent to rationalize a way to save her and the other pledging to annihilate any trace of who she had once been.

She would support reason. It was reasonable to say that she would pleasure her son with her mouth. Yes, she would do it partly out of lust, but the real motivation behind her action would be to make him ejaculate quickly so her shameful deed would end. Her justification in doing the deviant act was to make him expend his load so his desire to fuck her would be eradicated. If she were to maintain this way of thinking, then perhaps she had hope.

Those thoughts were disrupted when he reached down with a key and unfastened her restraining cuffs. Her eyes turned upward, expressing confusion.

He studied her befuddled stare and then said, "You no longer need restraints because your lustful eyes indicate that escaping is no longer an agenda that you'd contemplate. Your body is clearly expressing its enthusiasm to comply. I have no worry of you running, because with a few words, you would drop to your knees shuddering from the pleasure they produce. The pleasure you feel is euphoric and I can clearly see that you've acquired a yearning for its touch. You haven't yet acknowledge it to yourself, but you've already succumb to accepting your fate. You will soon realize that your craving for pleasure and your desire to serve are the bonds that restrain you."

Those statements stunned her. It was the truth of those words that bound her in place.

Those truths were demoralizing. The act of releasing her from the restraints implied that he felt confident that she was degraded to a point that escaping her fate was no longer possible.

In her mind, she screamed in defiance.

Her wide-eyed stare morphed into a squinted gaze of determination.

He flinched with a jolt when she suddenly released both hands from his cock and pulled back to sit on her haunches and then crossed her arms to cover her tits.

"You motherfucker," she said heatedly. "I'm not a whore. I refuse to be a spectator bound by lust and watch as you devolve me into some mindless fuck puppet."

He replied with a command, "Get on all fours and suck my cock like a whore."

"No," she said.

He didn't counter with a reply. His action was to sit back on his rump, like her, and stroke his dick. It never lost it rigidity: always hard, engorged and throbbing.

With amusement he said, "Always stiff for you, my dear. Thick, plump and juicy. Long and tasty. Mouthwatering."

She stared at his stroking hand. Tingling urges prompted her mouth to gape slightly.

"No—I can't—I'm not a . . ." The tone of her statement expressed her uneasiness.

He completed her statement. "Whore, is what you intended to say. Hum, if I'm not mistaken, just a short time ago you begged me to return Josh to you. You said you would willingly be his whore. You stated you would fulfill his every desire. You didn't seem squeamish in accepting a role as his whore. Now you balk at the very idea of becoming one. I'm afraid to tell you, but your already one, we just haven't 'popped the cork' to commemorate your new status. Look down at your crotch."

She turned her head down. Her legs were open and her fingers were playing with her clit. She whimpered and her eyes began to water. Shamefully, she turned her eyes back to watch him stroke his penis.

"Nothing like a big cock or long juicy dick to get a whore's pussy wet. Look at the plump head of this prick. I bet you've never had Josh's pecker in that luscious mouth of yours? You're probably wondering how his wiener would taste? Have you ever tasted a man's cum? Wouldn't you want to feel the weight of his hefty balls in your hand? Questions you seem determined to leave unanswered?"

He licked his lips to emphasize something tasty.

"Argh," she groaned. Her breasts heaved as she exhaled a sigh.

She gave in to the urge and positioned herself on all fours. Submissively, she crawled forward until the tip of his cock was aligned with her mouth. After brushing her hair back with one hand, she dropped that hand down and wrapped it around the base of his shaft.

When he maneuvered his hands to the top of her head and nudged it downward, she shook with nervousness.

"No," she whimpered softly. She turned her doe-like eyes upward to signify her commitment to the task.

Defeated by her desire, her head then turned downward. With her mouth now aligned with the engorged tip, her mouth opened wide and plunged to engulf its length.

She feed hungrily on his dick, bobbing and licking with enthusiasm. The fervor of her performance was whorish and the sounds emanating from the task were those of wetness and slobbering.

She continued to jerk the base back and forth, while her other hand massaged his balls.

Again, the voice of reason resounded in her mind. "Remember," it said. "You must remember."

She answered with a thought to indicate a reply. "Yes, I remember. I was to milk his prick so he would ejaculate quickly. I need his cum."

Her last stated thought was repeated as a question. "I need his cum?"

"No, no, no, I need him to come. My thoughts are so fucking jumbled. Making him come quick was my task. That's why I'm sucking him. If he ejaculates, he'll lose the urge to fuck me."

Another voice countered her thought, ". . . but you want him to fuck you. You're his whore and you want your son's big dick in you."

The Degradation of Mia: Part 3

The voices in her mind continued their debate, urging her to choose, demanding she respond and join their argument. They had become distractions. Their repeating annotations caused her to pause for brief moments as she processed those puzzling thoughts. It was becoming an annoyance that made her flustered.

She was taken aback by his awareness of her dawdling in her task to service him.

He said, "Your hesitations prompt thoughts of indecision that now annoy me. Your enthusiasm to perform like a cock whore are waning. Perhaps you've built a tolerance to the words that provide pleasure and require a more assertive method to prompt you to function with eagerness. I perceive that you may require further motivation to nudge you back to a state, more to my liking. How do you expect me to reward you with my gift if your skills at pleasuring a man's cock are less than adequate? You disappoint me."

His words hurt. She had performed with vigor. That whorish deed was done enthusiastically and would have aroused any man to ejaculate. Why did it bother her that he was disappointed over her cock sucking skills? Yet, she was distressed over his displeasure.

She intended to respond. She felt a need to ask for forgiveness for her distracted, half-hearted performance. As she sat up and opened her mouth to reply, her opportunity was interrupted. Her thoughts over that matter simply faded the instant he began spouting forth a long succession of keywords.

The effect was dramatic and the impact on her actions were instantaneous. The mouth she had opened to produce a reply morphed into the shape of an oval. The darkness of that open cavity presented a flickering tongue meant to pleasure. In the same action, her head delve downward to once again swallow his member. Her lustful urge to please, motivated her to ravish it like a juicy-sweet popsicle.

Her moans of pleasure vibrated around his meaty pole. The voices didn't distract her because they couldn't form any structure of thought. She was in such a state that her brain was redirecting its ability to process thought and reason. It was utilizing its processing energy to focus upon her current task.

Her body quivered as she awoke from this trance like state. She seemed unaware that a period of time had passed.

She reached down between her legs to stimulate her vulva with both hands. Her fingers delved into her wet crevasse in a frenzy. She was aware of her actions, but had yielded to her frantic need for stimulation.

"Cunt, you need to do better at servicing big dicks. Play with your whore cunt, but I want you to deep-throat your son's cock until your lips touch his balls."

Her eyes widened. She wasn't given time to think. Without warning, her head was pressed down on to his fleshy shank. Her mouth stretch wide to accommodate the bulbous tip as it speared her gullet and slammed the back of her throat.

She struggled with her arms flailing upward to claw his wrists. Her eyes were turned up to express terror. She couldn't breathe. The monstrous tube caused her to gag and sounds of gurgling emanated from around the crest of her lips.

She gasped for breath when the chunky phallus was retracted from her mouth. Her chest heaved from the torturous task to inhale air.

Only a fragment of time was afforded for this feat and then she was once again thrust down upon him. He showed no mercy in his intent to force her lips to touch his balls.

The gurgling around her lips, foamed and bubbled with a white froth of saliva mixed with pre-cum.

His actions were barbaric and meant to torment her. His brutality was inhumane. The process was repeated with timed efficiency. Each time her body exhibited signs of listless, he retracted. Her mind remained dazed and delusional from the assault that seemed unending.

Finally, he gave her a reprieve when she became lethargic and her eyes dulled and rolled back. He started tap-slapping both cheeks as a means to stimulate her awareness.

She shook and her body gave a jerk.

As she wheezed and struggled to maintain consciousness, he taunted her. "Tell me what you are. Say it. Tell me you're a cock whore!"

When he spoke, his voice now generated a reaction within her that produced feelings of dread and helplessness. She had lost hope. Her hysterical fear of him urged her to say anything that would stop the torturous routine.

The rim of her mouth was foamed with slobber that dribbled down her chin. She blubbered out an answer as a tormented wail of appeasement. "I'm a cock whore . . . Please . . . No more, I'll do what you want."

He nudged her head down slightly to give the impression he would once more mount her gullet on his pole. Her eyes widened with alarm.

He said, "I really didn't get the impression that you truly believed what you are. You're tone was spoken in a manner to appease me with intent to avoid gorging on my meat steak. You have but a moment to think on what I expect a proper whore to say, before we begin again."

"I'm a cock whore. I love cock. I love your cock. I'm your cock whore!" she shrieked to satisfy his expectations.

After admitting to her new role with a convincing belief of acceptance, he patted her on the head like a bitch. His taps were demeaning, but signified his approval. He giggled like an imp and slithered off the bed.

She felt relieved to have his presence at a distance. He sat and remained silent. She had no urge to look at him. More than likely, he was studying her like he's done since her degradation began.

Exhaustion had taken its toll. She was grateful for a reprieve from the continuous process of breaking her. When she was hyper-aroused, her energy and endurance to perform sexually felt boundless and unnatural. Without the stimulus, her natural state of being took hold. She no longer felt desire. The surge of passion had waned from the brutally of her ordeal. At the moment, she felt numb inside with a sprinkling of humiliation and despair.

As for Josh, there was no need to waste thought as to why he moved off the bed. She had difficulty identifying or remembering him as he was. They had essentially become one in the same. When she looked at the monster, the image was that of her son. She felt no love for that fiend.