Marie’s Submissive Year
Week 18.3 – Wednesday, Luzhi to Beijing – beginning the trip to Ukraine

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WARNING and DISCLAIMER: This story outlines the travels of a middle-aged wife who decided to spent a year exploring her long-repressed submissive side. Her husband and her best friend subject her to the worst kinds of depravities during a year-old international junket. If you don’t like that kind of thing, please go read something else and don’t leave feedback here about how horrible and disgusting the story is. It’s fiction and it’s supposed to be.
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Gregor leaned over Marie and gently pushed the hair back off of her forehead. At the touch of fingers on her skin, Marie’s hands reached up and her lips parted in a tight O. She found Gregor’s leg and slid her hands up his hips and across the front of his pants, making a bee-line for his zipper.

“Amazing!” he said with a big grin. “She does it completely by instinct now, doesn’t she?” He brushed her hand away and stepped back from the bed. Marie closed her mouth and her hands slid down between her legs and she start rubbing herself. She hadn’t opened her eyes through any of it.

Lora turned to John. “Should we stop her?” John shook his head. “No. We’ve got another half-hour until Mei brings the last group. Let’s let her enjoy herself a little bit.” He got up and walked over to the dirty bed, leaned forward and kissed his wife’s forehead. She opened her eyes slightly, the opium keeping her in its own sleepy world. She saw John and whispered. “Kiss me.” John pressed his lips to hers and she opened up. His tongue touched hers and her body stiffened as she came. John ran his hands over his wife’s belly, sliding from a patch of dried cum to a small pool that was still damp. He felt his cock getting hard. He looked at Lora, sitting at the table negotiating with Gregor. She was wearing an ankle-length skintight dress that showed off every curve. He was going to enjoy fucking her later, while his wife was servicing the last dozen men Mei was bringing. After that, Marie would be turned over to Gregor and they’d leave Luzhi, probably forever.

“I want her on the Beijing train at exactly twelve-thirty, is that clear?” Gregor said to Lora. “I’ve paid them off and paid them well but they can only promise a ten minute window.”

“I understand. I am fully capable of…”

“You understand that not only will you not be paid, but I will come after you. I have already spent more than five thousand Euro’s arranging things. And you have the ten thousand US dollars deposit.”

“Yes, half of our agreed upon price. There is no need to threaten me, Gregor, we are both profiting from this exchange,” Lora said, struggling to keep her calm.

Gregor stood up and buttoned his tailored jacket. “And we are agreed that her last dose will be at ten o’clock this morning?”

Lora nodded.

“Good. Then I have nothing more to say to you until I see you on the train.” Gregor got to the door just as Mei was arriving with Marie’s last group of Asian customers. Lora looked at her watch. If they fucked her an average of ten minutes each, she would be done in just over two and a half hours. That left them plenty of time to wash and dress her and get her to the train station.

—

Lora handed the ticket agent the letter from Gregor. He read it, looked over her shoulder at Marie and smiled. He snapped his fingers and two orderlies came running. “Bring lady to Mr. Gregor’s car. Use wheelchair, she not steady.” They helped her into the chair, her big body limp and hard to handle. She smiled at them, licked her lips and slid her hands slowly up her legs, knees to thighs. They forced themselves to ignore her.

The ticket agent walked with them the length of the train. Gregor’s car was third to the last. He kept looking up and down the platform, hurrying the men along, well aware that discovery would mean fines, punishment and the confiscation of his human cargo. Gregor was known to the Chinese government and it would not do the be found helping him with one of his adventures.

The lift brought the wheelchair up and they rolled her in. Gregor’s car was luxurioius. The first third of the car was a tall-ceilinged room done up in leather and rich, dark brown wood. The furniture was leather and steel, the lamps elegant and the floor carpeted with thick, tan plush. It smelled of opulence, expensive wine and cigars and musk.

There was a large safe at the other end of the room, set off by two life-sized sculptures of naked women. The women were facing the walls, their arms stretched straight above their head, wrists manacled so their palms were flat. Their legs were open shoulder width, their ankles shacked as well, but higher, keeping them on the balls of their feet.

“John, you’re staring,” Lora teased. He felt his cock stiffen just looking at them. So suggestive. He pictured Marie in that position, turned to look her. She was staring too. Very intently.

At exactly twelve-thirty, Gregor entered. He was dressed as usual in an expensively tailored grey suit with black shoes and several gold bracelets.

“The train leaves in exactly ten minutes. That gives me just a little time to show you around.” He waved the ticket agent and the orderlies away, handing each of them a stack of currency. They bowed and scraped their way out of the car.

Gregor wheeled Marie across the room. He looked at John. “Your wife will spend the first two days of her withdrawal here in this room.”

Marie looked up dumbly at John. She was still high from the ten o’clock dose but she knew enough to be anxious. “John?” John leaned down and kissed her. She leaned forward and opened her mouth, tongue darting out automatically but he pulled back. “It was just a kiss, dear.”

Lora was leaning closer, looking at one of the statues. “It’s breathing,” she said in awe.

“Yes. They’re real,” Gregor said disinterestedly. He leaned over and turned the tumbler on the big combination lock.”

Lora sucked in her breath. “Real? What do you mean real?” She waved her hand in front of the statue’s face. It’s eyes blinked.

Gregor pushed the door open. “They’re women who’ve outlived their usefulness to me. But they bodies were so amazing – look at them, am I right? – that I wanted to keep them around to admire. So, I had them encased in these body suits you see. They can breathe, see, hear, even feel. Twice a day they are taken down and fed and their . . . other bodily functions . . . are dealt with.”

Lora ran her hand down the front of the woman’s body and the statue trembled.

“They have some slight ability to move. It makes it more interesting.”

Lora slid her hand between the woman’s legs and felt warm flesh. The outfit was ingeniously designed so the openings were feathered smoothly to the skin, it was barely noticeable. She felt the clitoris growing beneath her finger and the poor thing began sucking in breath in short, quick puff.

“The outfits don’t have much stretch in the diaphragm, so being sexually aroused is quite unpleasant. One part of their body craves it, but the rest of their body knows it isn’t a good idea.”

Lora withdrew her hand and watched fascinated as the woman’s breath slowed back to normal. But, Lora noticed that tears were rolling down her cheeks.

“It’s quite frustrating for them.”

He wheeled Marie into the next room.

“How long have they been there?” John asked, hypnotized.

“The one on the right, eight months.”

“That’s terrible,” Lora groaned.

“The one on the left – the one you teased – is going on four years. Her body hardly shows it, does it?” He closed the door behind them.

—

Marie recognized the room immediately – it was a Pain Room, like in the other cities. But this time on rails. She looked at Lora and John then at Gregor. Even through her opium haze, it was all very clear. Without waiting for anyone to speak, she stood up and dropped to her knees in front of Gregor. She spread her knees and laced her fingers behind her neck, leaning back slightly so her titties were thrust forward.

“This one’s cunt is hungry, hungry for dildoes and fingers and fists.” Lora smiled with satisfaction. Marie was repeating her training litany without even being asked. “It’s cunt is for abuse. And its asshole and rectum are for fucking. Its anus is for sucking cock and its mouth is there only to make men happy.”

As she’d done so many times before, Marie shifted slightly, unzipping her top and pulling the material back to expose her naked tits. “Its flesh is to beat. Its tongue is for cleaning cunts and assholes. Its mind is for depravity and its entire reason for being is as an object of pleasure.” She raised her eyes and looked directly at Gregor. “You may use me any way you like. “

“Stay like that,” he said calmly, then turned and walked back into the other room. Lora and John followed him. Gregor pulled the door closed and spun the combination lock.

“The withdrawal won’t begin right away. Right now, she’s still feeling the effects of the last dose. Would you like lunch?”

—

Marie’s thighs and calves were sore and starting to shake, her knees shooting jolts of pain down to her ankles and up her back. She tried hard not to look up at the clock but failed. Two and a half hours already. She’d fallen over three times as the train went around curves at uneven speeds, always returning as close as she could to the exact same position. She was hungry, thirsty, and beginning to want another pipe.

Her mind was coming out of the opium haze and she tried to figure out what was going on. Why would John bring her to this room and then just leave her. It wasn’t the first time he’d done something strange over the last 18 weeks, but this felt different. She couldn’t think, the drugs had addled her brain. But something was different. Maybe it was the change from the intensity of the fucking in China, the opium-fueled gang bang sessions, the assumption that her mouth, cunt and ass would be stuffed with something 24 hours a day. And now, this. She was alone on her knees in a Pain Room on a moving train.

And the need for the poppy was getting stronger. It wasn’t on her, but she felt it’s presence.

The train slowed to a stop and she fell over as the couplings jerked against each other. She got back up and looked. Four hours and twenty minutes. Her legs were in agony now and she was crying. She wanted to lean back on her heels or even lay down but she knew better. Her stomach was starting to churn and she needed to pee. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten, the last time she’d wanted to eat. But her throat was parched. After a few minutes, the train jerked and started moving again.

Marie heard the door behind her open. Then, muffled voices and ‘oohs’ and ‘aahhs’. She didn’t dare turn around to see who it was but felt their eyes on her. After a few moments, they started moving. A parade of a dozen men and women went by, looking down at her as they passed, then vanishing through the door at the far end of the car. One of the younger women touched her and she and her companion giggled.

Five hours into the ride, she couldn’t take it anymore and settled back on her heels. Her elbows were sagging, head leaning forward, spine curling. She felt the dried tears down her cheeks and neck and started crying again. The pain in her bladder was intense now and she wondered how long she could resist the urge to wet the carpet.

The door opened again. This time, someone came up behind her and wrapped a blindfold around her eyes. Hands underneath her arms raised her to standing but she collapsed immediately. They lifted her up again, then a third time until she could stand on her own, gasping loudly and crying from the pain in her knees. The hands undressed her and then it was quiet for a long time. She stood naked with her arms at her sides, blindfolded and wondering. Was it one person? Maybe three: Gregor, Lora, and John? Or was a whole crowd standing staring at her – the white American whore who’d been fucking like an animal from Shanghai to Luzhi to Beijing?

Marie felt the cold edge of a metal bucket pressed between her thighs. Without any hesitation, she squatted slightly and released a powerful stream of piss. Realizing how easily she’d given in, she started to cry again, listening to the piss bubble, feeling drops of it splash back along the insides of her thighs. When she was done, she felt someone wipe her and whispered, “thank you.” There was laughter in the room, many people. She felt herself sinking in shame.

She felt an iron collar wrapped around her neck and padlocked shut. It was heavy and cold and she leaned forward. Another was wrapped around her waist, then her wrists and ankles. She couldn’t remember being manacled like this before. The iron was heavy and she felt humiliated for some reason. She recalled pictures of slaves on ships, brought from Africa or China or India. She wondered who was in the room, turning her into a caricature of that time? She heard chains rattling, then being pulled through rings in the manacles, ankle to ankle, neck to wrists, wrists to waist, until finally she couldn’t tell where all they’d pulled the chains. But she knew they were heavy, very heavy, and she wouldn’t be able to stand long weighted down like this.

Someone pulled her head back and she felt metal pressing against her septum. She jerked her head back then, scared, afraid they were going to pierce her like an animal. Several hands immediately grabbed her head and held her steady and the pressure was back. They didn’t pierce her, but attached a spring-loaded nose-ring. The spring was powerful and the iron was heavy, she wondered if an actual piercing might be less painful.

Something was attached to each of her nipples, something that clamped slowly into place at the base of her big, dark nipples, smashing them hard, the nipple themselves protruding inches from her titties. She felt more chains now, lighter, connecting the nose-ring to the nipple clamps. Heavier chains went from the nipple clamps to her wrist shackles.

She tried to whisper “water” but her throat was too dry for even that. The pain in her stomach was strong now and she was starting to feel achey in her arms and legs. Someone’s hand slid beneath the back of her iron belt and they began walking her from one end of the car to the other. The iron chafed her flesh and the weight of the chains made it hard to walk.

After three or four trips through the car, her leader pushed her to her knees. Marie heard the voice say “you drink”. It was Mei, the one who’d done most of the pimping during their last trip. Mei pushed Marie’d head down. Marie felt her nose and lips touch water. A dog bowl! She pushed her face into the water and drank and drank. After that, Mei pushed her head sideways and she smelled something awful. She gagged and started to pull her head back but stopped. She knew the game. It was eat this or nothing. She held her breath and plunged into the bowl of whatever it was. It was hard to get down, she felt long, slimy bits and hard chunks and what must have been rotten vegetables. She told herself that as long as she held her breath, she could get through it, but when something she took into her mouth started moving, she puked it all back up.

Crying again, she lifted her head up and turned toward Mei’s voice. “Yong? Yong? Fei?” she whispered. “You ask louder,” Mei said, pulling her hair and turning her back toward the rest of the room. Marie repeated the words she’d learned to use when asking for the pipe. The crowd again laughed.

“No, my dear. No pipe for you.” It was Gregor. He helped her to her feet, the weight of the chains making it difficult for her to get her balance. Gregor reached around and undid the blindfold. “No more pipe for you. You are going to get all cleaned up. Be a good American wife again.” He turned to the crowd in the room. “Isn’t that what you all want? A good American wife? Isn’t that what you all came here to fuck?”

Marie did a quick count – twenty two, eighteen men and four women. Only about half of them Asian, the others Indian or Pakistani. All shabbily dressed, all staring and laughing.

“I tell you about chains now,” Mei said in a tour-guide kind of voice. “Everyone Gregor bring on train have family who taken to America. Long time back, on big ships.”

Gregor stepped forward and took Marie’s chin in his hand, tilting her head back. She felt dizzy and nearly fell over. She was getting a headache.

“And I have invited them to have a little party with you. You will be the stand in for the American slave master.”

“But, no, but, I…” Marie started blubbering but Gregor put his finger to her lips.

“Oh, nothing will happen for another day or so. You have something else to worry about right now.” Marie stared at him, his big smile was terrifying. He motioned to the others and they filed out of the room, only Mei stood behind. She refilled the bowls, one with water and one with a foul mixture out of a one-quart bottle. Marie watched the surface of the bowl. Something was moving underneath the thick gruel. She gagged again.

Mei went to the far end of the car and settled onto a small pillow, curled up and went to sleep. Marie knelt back down and drank more of the water. Her stomach was in pain now and it wasn’t because she was hungry. She felt her nose starting to run and the headache was getting worse. She sniffed hard but the trickle started again. She shuffled back to the middle of the car and laid on her side, trying to get comfortable. It was impossible. Between the belt around her waist and the collar around her neck, something was always digging into her.

She found the most comfortable position possible by half-leaning against the wall. Her legs were sore but she couldn’t manage to keep them still. She tried to sleep but the headache prevented it.

Marie looked up at the clock. Six-thirty. Her body wouldn’t stay still. She needed another bowl of opium, that would do it. Maybe she could entice Mei to bring her some. But Mei was asleep. If she woke her, she’d be angry. So, she waited. Six-forty. Six-fifty. Marie felt like she wanted to throw up, something was wrong. By seven, she was starting to sweat and the headache was throbbing. She squeezed her eyes shut, opened them as wide as she could, back and forth, trying to fight the pain. Then it stopped. But, her elbows and knees – all of her joints – were aching now. She shook her head. She’d have to wake Mei. Opium would help.

—

At eight, Marie opened her eyes and found Gregor just inches from her face.

“How are we feeling?” he whispered, a big, evil grin on his face.

“H..horrible,” Marie stammered. It was true. Every part of her body ached now, like she had a bad flu.

“This is just the beginning,” Gregor said. She saw his hand stroking her hair but all she felt was pain. “Get her in the harness,” he said. Marie’s head started to pound again. She felt hands lifting her and turning her over, carrying her into the middle of the car, attaching her shackled body to chains that hung from the ceiling.

Gregor stood between her wide-open legs and unzipped his pants. He rubbed his cock hard and shoved it into her cunt. She felt it sliding deeper inside her and her stomach churned and spasmed. As he fucked her, she leaned her head back and dry-heaved several times.

“Ah, yes! You squeeze your cunt when you do that, do it again,” Gregor moaned. Marie couldn’t focus, didn’t know what was going on, only that her body hurt everywhere and this man was fucking her. “Help her along,” he said to Mei. Mei pulled Marie’s head back and slid two fingers between her lips, pushing them deep into the back of her throat, gagging her. Marie retched again and Gregor grunted his appreciation.

When he came, he pulled out his cock and hurried to the door, “I have to write this down,” he said and vanished.

“Let her down,” Mei said to the men. “She need water again.”

—

It went on like that, once an hour, from eight until one. Gregor brought John in for the ten o’clock fuck, told him how much he loved his wife’s pussy and that the early withdrawal fucks were certainly worth the money. He couldn’t wait until she was deeper into it, in a day or two.

Just before two in the morning, the train pulled into Beijing. Marie was suspended upside down in her chains and dozens of passengers were treated to the sight as they walked from one end of the train to the other. Some stopped for quick photos, others pushed fingers or small soda bottles into Marie’s splayed and inviting cunt. Gregor was nowhere to be seen. The authorities were certain it was his car and his show but they’d been paid to turn a blind eye. As long as he didn’t show up, they would argue, there was not much they could do anyway. The women involved always reported they were there voluntarily. Nobody ever pressed charges.

At two o’clock exactly, the train pulled out of Beijing station.

The journey continued.

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