Clothes Maketh The Man – Part 72.

– Find Part 1 here â€“ Chapter list here â€“

As I crawled on my hands and knees along the corridor the chain rattled from my neck.  I fell slightly behind Mark and he jerked it hard hurting my neck and then shouted, ‘Keep up, bitch.”

I wondered what the point of this ridiculous exercise was, but it wasn’t until I realised I was being taken into the dining room that I learned what was happening.  It was Marks practice to have an early dinner, and then a supper later in the evening.  I was led into the dining room, the table set and several of his men seated waiting for him, and he then sat at the head of the table.

I wasn’t sure what to do as he sat, so I waited, on all fours feeling stupid.

He told me, “Sit!”

I quickly realised I was to take my place beside his chair, like a dog. He raised his hand, and I swiftly took my place sitting beside his chair at the head of the table.

What followed was the most humiliating experience I had yet experienced. Give me a room full of men eager for sexual satisfaction and I can work with it.  But this?

I sat patiently, my face throbbing from the heavy blow Mark had dealt me. I sat there and I thought about Annabel. Anything to distract me from this humiliation. Feeling desolate I listened to the conversation around the table, but soon it just faded into a distant background sound and I sat and sobbed.  My poor Annabel. How could this have happened.

I was snapped out of this pitiful reverie when Mark called his daughter and said something I didn’t understand.  The girl leaned down and undid some studs in the hood revealing a mouth panel.

Mark tossed a piece of meat onto the floor and looked at me.

“Eat it,” he said.

I was disgusted. I wasn’t going to eat food from the floor.

“Eat it or don’t. It’s a long time till breakfast,” he said.

I sat where I was looking dumb. Mark looked at his daughter and said something.  She refastened the mouth panel.

The food remained on the floor.

“No matter,” said Mark. “It will be there in the morning.”

With that he returned to the meal and talked to his companions.

I sat watching. Still unable to do anything I looked at the way they behaved with him.  I couldn’t help but think this wasn’t the first time they’d seen a display like this.  It seemed entirely unremarkable to them.

By the time the meal was finished I was already feeling hungry, but I wasn’t going to eat food off the floor.

After the meal I was led out into the courtyard and the leash was replaced by a heavier chain around my neck attached to the side of the building. It held me firmly at knee height.

As the light began to fade I felt sure I was here for the night.

I wasn’t wrong.

+++

I think that might have been the longest night of my life.  There were insects biting and I was painfully thirsty. Only with he dawn did I get some respite.  One of the kitchen staff brought out a bowl of water and placed it before me, just as one would a dog. I wondered if this was an act of compassion on the part of one of the staff.

Unable to help myself I picked up the bowl and struggled to drink it. When chained at knee height drinking a bowl of water is not easy, even with full use of your hands. You might like to try it sometime.

I spilled about half the water but I found it sustained me. I should rephrase that.  I found it kept me going, long enough to suffer more.  As the sun rose the real pain began. The dryness in my throat took on a new level of pain.

The morning dragged on, and people came and went. Some glanced my way but no one seemed surprised or concerned. it wasn’t until after the sun had reached it’s zenith that I was finally released by Mark’s daughter and the leash reattached.

I moved to stand up and she said, “No!”

It would have been laughable but for the fact I was so weak from the sun and hunger.

“Get on your knees or my father will beat you,” said the girl.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, but complied. I knew she meant what she said. She led me, still on all fours, into the house and I was taken through to the dining room.  Mark sat at the head of the table, there were a few others there but I was too distracted to say anything. I watched as they ate ice cream.  I think it was mango.

Mark’s daughter led me to his chair and told me to sit beside it. As I did so I could see the piece of meat from the previous night still on the floor. A number of ants were crawling on the dried up morsel.

“Ah, see who’s joined us,” said Mark to his companions. “I’m so glad you could come.”

Mark chuckled to himself and pulled out his phone.  He then proceeded to play a video from a camera in the courtyard.

Speaking to his friends he said, “Look, she likes to have a drink this one.”

With that he showed them the video playback of me struggling to drink water that morning from the dog bowl.

I felt weak and desolate.

“And are we hungry yet,” he asked.

I refused to speak.

“Very well. Put her in the courtyard again,” he instructed the girl. “And be sure to hose her down. She’s going to be used later.”

With that I was taken back to the chain outside and refastened there. The sun seemed hotter than ever.

+++

Later that day I was taken to a shower, by now in very poor shape. I was placed in my room and told to put on some clothes. To be quite honest I was so exhausted from the exposure to the sun that I barely remember the events that followed. I’ve tried to piece things together as best I can.

I remember a tray being brought in to the room with some sparking water, and there, beneath a silver cover was a piece of meat on a delicate side plate. I immediately recognised it as being the meat Mark had thrown on the floor.

I drank the water deeply but refused the meat. As one who has dieted painfully to achieve a body shape that I so badly desired, I was not unused to hunger pangs. The water helped. Gradually I felt my strength returning.

It would have been mid afternoon that the door was unlocked and Mark’s daughter entered the room with the leash.

“You’re wanted,” she said coldly and then attached the leash to the collar that remained around my neck.

+++

“Open your mouth,” he barked the man before me as he pushed me to my knees before him. Beside him were others of the guests at this dreadful place. I didn’t bother to count. They held drinks in their hands, had loud music playing and I could see I was the entertainment.

Looking at the man towering over me it occurred to me that he was unlike me in so many ways. Was I even the same species as this muscle bound creature? Each of his biceps could have matched my thighs for muscle mass. An alien arriving on earth could be mistaken for thinking we were different animals in all respects. How could I have ever thought I was ‘that’. No, my manhood was gone, and I realised without question it had never been quite what I was now confronted with. I was something else.

‘Oh, God. Not this again,’ I thought as he grasped my hair and pulled y face toward his bulging crotch. He swiftly unbuckled his belt and his pants fell to the floor, presenting me with what can only be described as a handful. It wasn’t that I mind giving a blow job. Far from it. I am after all a very giving sort of person. No, this was more akin to enjoying an oyster or two.  After two dozen oysters you’re going to find the appeal fades pretty quickly.

Resigned to my fate I opened my mouth, glanced up – always the eye contact – and saw the enormous man grinning down at me as I prepared to pleasure him. At that very moment in the centre of his forehead a single round hole suddenly appeared, his expression froze, his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed like a plank of wood backwards.

This was hardly the reaction I anticipated, I have to say. For a few brief seconds no one seemed to notice anything was amiss, and as I glanced about I saw several other people keel over in much the same manner. Only then did people suddenly realise something was happening.

“We’re under attack,” shouted one of Mark’s men, and threw himself to the floor. I did the same as the windows exploded in a shower of glass and several black clad figures in combat gear clambered into the room. Bodies, some covered in oil, others just naked and scrambling to find their weapons, bumbled this way and that as helmeted and armoured figures roughly pushed several of us to the ground, most being secured with nylon zip ties behind their backs.

Mark made it to the door attempting to make his escape, only to find it blocked solidly from outside. There was literally nowhere to run. By this time several people lay dead and any thought of resistance had ebbed away. Without weapons and without any way to escape, numerous people sat with their hands above their heads as the infiltrators secured the room and bound my captors.  I lay frozen with fear and the door now opened and a stream of armed men entered the room and began efficiently clearing out the assembled occupants, who were led to the courtyard and made to lay face down on the ground.

One member of the assault team came to me, removed the hood from my head and took me by the arm guiding me toward the door. I was given a plain teeshirt and some pants to pull on for modesty’s sake, and my guide waited while I swiftly dressed. He wore a helmet and goggles, and I couldn’t see the face of this saviour who had extracted me from such a horrible situation, but I could only guess he must be handsome. After all, aren’t all guardian angels handsome?

I was breathless, and as I was led outside into the bright sunshine I was surprised to see a group of camouflaged vehicles, and a helicopter.

I turned to the man leading me toward the chopper and as I stepped up into the aircraft turned to him and said, “Thank God you rescued me.”

I felt the hot tears of shame roll from my eyes. As the blades of the chopper began to rotate he removed his goggles and unbuckled his helmet. The whine of the turbo jet wound up and the sound began to increase to a roar. He was handsome, as I had guessed. Thick black hair, soulful eyes and strong hands.  I felt myself melting beneath his gaze.

He reached over and helped me get strapped in, and then looked at me with those chilling blue eyes and said to me, “Rescue you? We’re here to kidnap you!”

A moment later the machine was climbing into the sky, leaving a whirlwind of dust below. It tilted its nose down a little and then roared off a hundred feet above the desert heading south into Mexico. This wasn’t how I had envisaged visiting that beautiful country.

+++

Enjoy the next episode HERE – https://fionadobson.com/cmtm/clothes-maketh-the-man-part-73/

Clothes Maketh The Man is a serial you can find on http://FionaDobson.com/cmtm  Started in 2016 it has been published in regular in episodes . If you are enjoying the serial, show your support by joining my Patreon and sharing this page.  Join my readership and continue to support my efforts by enjoying Andrea’s adventures. FD

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