Chapter 1
The prison gates closed behind her and Damballah Okello lit a cigarette. She was on the outside.
She didn't look back, she just spit on the ground and started walking down the highway. Eighteen wheelers sounded their air horns and farmers driving beaten pick up trucks shouted obscenities as they passed her and she just kept walking and smoking and every now and again spitting on the ground.
When she decided she was finally far enough from the God forsaken walls of the Illinois State Correctional Institute for Women she turned around and put out her thumb. She threw her cigarette on the ground.
She had just completed five years of hard time for various accounts of assault and sodomy. For Damballah, the two went hand in hand.
She would have gotten out more than a year ago if she had behaved herself and even after being beaten by the dykes they get to be guards in these places and tossed around in "the pit" she was not at all interested in behaving herself. Not at all.
She held out her thumb and walked backwards. Her other arm was curled around a brown parcel containing the personal effects she had when she was hauled in five years ago. The important things, the dangerous cunt hooks and nipple piercers had been confiscated. All that was left was a plain gray dress she had worn to her sentencing. Five years. Up for parole in three. The judge said he was going easy on her.
Parole.
Huh.
For sissies and pansies and punks. The tough bitches, the really tough prisoners who took what they wanted when they wanted never got paroled. But while they were in prison, whoo! A tough girl with a penchant for other women could have a lot of fun behind those walls.
Damballah was the toughest cunt of all and she had the most fun. She was almost sorry to go. Here on the outside, all of the things she took so much pleasure in were pout of the realm of the norm and were quite punishable.
A second offense would mean a lengthy stretch. She didn't need it. No matter how much she had enjoyed prison, no matter how much fun she had brutalizing chicks in the shower and beating the shit out of them in the exercise yard, enough was enough and it was time to go home.
Home.
Twenty more miles down the interstate. Her thumb was begging for a ride.
It shouldn't be too hard, she reckoned, an attractive girl like her should get picked up by some yahoo redneck in no time.
She kept walking.
And the cars kept driving by.
Maybe she was still too close to the prison, no one wanted to pick up a con from those hallowed halls, no one that is, who didn't want trouble.
The Illinois State Correctional Institute for Women had the reputation as being the toughest women's pen in the country. It was maximum security and maximum brutality.
The parcel. Of course. Everyone who gets out of the pen always has a plain brown package under their arm. She thought for a moment about the dress in it and hurled it across the highway into some amber brush. She put on her nicest, most betraying smile and put her thumb back out.
Well, that was that. It was only a moment before she was picked up and it wasn't even a man, it was an attractive woman in her late twenties driving an old Ford Pinto.
Damballah got in and did her best to be polite. "Gee, thanks," she offered in a pleasant country girl voice.
"Where ya headed?"
"Jus' down the road, 'bout twenty miles."
They drove on in silence for a moment.
Damballah watched the woman driving and scrutinized her body. She was beautiful. In fact, she looked a bit like Damballah herself: she had long, dirty blond hair and a full, shapely figure. Her face was lovely with full lips and a straight nose under piercing, dark eyes.
"My name is Damballah."
"Oh." She had been daydreaming. She had noticed the similarities in herself and her passenger and was wondering if she had just gotten out of the prison, and if she did, was she a lesbian.
"I'm Sheila. Sheila Petersen. Glad to meet you."
"Glad to meet you-I was starting to think I was gonna have to walk the whole way."
"Oh, I don't know about that-shit, with all the horny old farm creeps drivin' around here you were bound to get picked up."
"Well I'm glad I didn't get picked up by some smelly old man who thought he might get over on me." She smiled at Sheila. It was a nice smile and she smiled back.
"Just get out?"
"Yeah. Does it show?"
"No, not really-I just figured, well, actually the lines on your face gave you away. You look a lot tougher than most of the people around here."
She smiled at Damballah. It could have been read as a sexy, suggestive smile, but Damballah wasn't sure and she didn't want to start anything. Not yet. She had just got out and she wanted to enjoy it before taking any chances. One thing led to the next, don't ya know, and that's what bought her a ticket to the slammer. She had already decided that there was plenty of room for fun and games on the outside, fun and games being a horrible excursion of brutal torture at the hands of Damballah, but she had also decided that there was no use in being to hasty and letting herself be controlled by her basest urges.
She smiled back at Sheila and they tooled on down the interstate.
Conversation was sparse, idle small talk about their small town. They pulled into Damballah's dirt driveway and coasted the fifteen or so yards to her beat up ranch house.
"Well, thanks ... I sure do appreciate it...." Sheila was very beautiful and Damballah wanted to have her right there, without some guard coming around the corner or some dyke inmate threatening to kick her ass.
"Say-I'm kinda dry. Mind if I come in for a drink?"
"I'm not sure I have anything. Shit. I haven't been here in five years!"
"Oh Christ I'm sorry-wait." Sheila reached into he car and opened the glove compartment. A sealed pint of Bacardi 151 popped into her hand.
"I almost forgot."
"Jesus. I haven't had a real drink in five years. Fuckin' A-c'mon in."
Damballah pushed the key into the door and gave it a twist. It was clogged with dust and she had to force it and then push the door in with her shoulder.
Damballah looked around her home. Five years is a long time.
Her eyes shot around the kitchen, over a sink filled with months worth of five year old djrty dishes and jelly glasses, past the leash dangling off the back door where her dog Rex used to live and they rested on the door to the basement, the scene of her so-called crimes. She wondered if her trunk of erotic oddities was still down there. The authorities hadn't found it otherwise they would have used its contents as evidence. It had to be there.
She smiled over at Sheila and said "let's have a drink."
Sheila broke the seal on the bottle and handed it to Damballah. "Cheers."
"It's good to be out, man." She slugged back a hearty wallop of the incendiary elixir. "WHOOO!!! Sheeeee-yit!!!! I forgot what this stuff was like." She took another gulp and shook her head wildly, her long hair flowing wildly.
Sheila took a healthy slug and put the cap back on the bottle. They sauntered into the living room and sat on a frayed overstuffed couch. Damballah lit a cigarette, "Fuck yes. Good to be back."
"What're ya gonna do?"
"Well, let's see." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a sheath of crisp new bills.
"Almost two hundred dollars. Jesus that's a lot of license plates. Fuck. Well, that should be enough to keep me going for a little while and then I guess I'll get a job. Right now I just wanna party and sleep late."
"I know the feeling."
"No, nobody knows the feeling until after they've been there for a good stretch."
"I was."
"What?"
"I did two years for aggravated assault. I clobberred some asshole with a beer bottle in a bar after he tried to cop a feel-you know-just some fuckin' asshole."
"Far out. Far fucking out. Parole?"
"Just got off. I'm clean as a whistle."
Damballah sipped at the rum and passed it back to Sheila.
"I got some grass. You get much inside?"
"Yeah, once in a while. It's tough. A lot of chemicals, all sorts of pharmaceutical speed and pain killers."
Sheila pulled out a pack of menthol cigarettes and pulled a thin joint out from amongst the cigarettes.
"It's dusted."
She lit it with Damballah's cigarette and took a toke. It smelled of chemicals, the enticing and intoxicating blend of marijuana and PCP.
Damballah took her time smoking it for a minute. It was very, very good.
"I sure am glad you picked me up. Thanks."
"Don't (ssssssuck) mention it (ssssuck)." Her tits jutted forward as she kept her breath in. Damballah noticed her nipples were erect. And then she noticed hers were, too.
The funny thing about angel dust, PCP that is, is that you can never anticipate how it's going to effect you. It makes some people violent and it drives others crazy and they think they can fly. It's wild stuff.
Sheila and Damballah sat there staring at each other. Both of them were thinking how attractive the other was, and how much they looked alike. And how much they really were alike.
Horny and stoned. It was obvious.
Damballah inched over to Sheila. Their knees were touching. They were smiling.
"I'll be right back."
Sheila watched her get up and disappear into the other room. She heard her open a door and then walk down the creaky wooden stairs into the depths of the basement.
Damballah cleared cob webs out of her face and pulled the string on the exposed bulb that was the light.
The place looked just as she had left it. She was surprised it wasn't ransacked.
She made her way through the junk, the old bicycles and the lawnmower and some empty gas cans and a crate of jelly jars. She found the fake cinderblock and with a little bit of oompff pulled it out of the wall.
There it was.
Satan's playchest.
That's what she always called it. It was an antique footlocker and it was filled with exotic bondage and torture devices, the likes of which had never been seen by the Free World. It was the kind of stuff that made cock rings and nipple clamps look like a Cracker Jack prize.
This was a whole different ball game.
She reached deeper into the wall and pulled out a heavy burlap sack. More of the same plus a very special assortment of black rubber apparel. She smiled a stoned smile. She hadn't worn that stuff in five long years.
She looked over her shoulder to see if the iron wristlets were still hanging from the wall.
"Fucking country cops aren't too smart," she mumbled as she opened the burlap sack. She pulled out a black rubber corset with two hooks for someone's cuntlips hanging off the bottom. She smiled to herself and went upstairs.
"Well, what's up?"
"I just wanted to look around-see if everything was still intact. I guess everything is OK."
"Good."
Sheila leaned forward and kissed Damballah on the mouth without warning.
Damballah pulled her close and ran her tongue into Sheila's mouth. They fell down onto the floor, their bodies close together and they French kissed passionately, fueled by dope and booze and what seemed like fate. Sheila thought it must be fate to find Damballah, just the kind of person she had been yearning for, in the middle of goddam Illinois far from any metropolis Babylon.
Their blue jeans were getting wet around their crotches, their bodies reacting to each other's fine touch.
Sheila pulled her new friends shirt over her head and was amazed at the fullness of her tits. They were positively gorgeous.
She put her mouth on one and her hand on the other.
"I like it rough."
Sheila pressed hard into her breast and sucked the other one ferociously. Her teeth rubbed hard over her nipple and her tongue pushed her tiny erect knob into her breast.
"Mmmmmmm ... "
Damballah pushed her away, gently, and took Sheila's shirt off. Her breasts were just as full, just as wonderful. Damballah pinched her nipples hard.
"Oh ... "
Damballah jerked her head around and looked over her shoulder. "What is it?!!!"
"N-n-nothing. I'm just nervous. I guess I was in the hole for too long."
"Relax. This is your house. We're safe."
"Yeah. I guess so."
Damballah looked at her lover. She was a dream.
Hell--the whole afternoon had been a dream, from the moment she heard the gates close behind her to right now, through as bottle of strong liquor and a powerful joint and a good woman ta boot. And the cache of special toys in the cellar. It was a dream alright, but soon it would turn into the ugliest nightmare for Sheila, the poor, horny young woman, an ex-con like Damballah. She should have known better.
She should have known better than to pick up someone just released from there. Who knew what kind of sickos they were?
And she should have known better than to feed a stranger-and a convicted felon for chrissakes-booze and dusted joints.
She should have known better.
Damballah looked at Sheila and her brain lit up like a Christmas tree. Maybe it was the drugs, maybe it was Damballah's evil nature, probably it was a little of both. She delivered a powerful right hook to Sheila's chin.
It was right on the money and she was out like a light.
"AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!" Sheila came to feeling the most excrutiating pain she had ever imagined. It was coming from her cunt.
Damballah stepped back and admired her prisoner. She looked great-her tits were full as ever, pushed up by the black rubber corset. Her hands were high above her head firmly locked in the iron bracelets.
And at the bottom of the corset, between poor Sheila's lovely, long legs and meaty thighs were two cruel metal hooks, actually piercing her labia.
It hurt like hell but the idea of having pierced cuntlips appealed to Sheila ... somehow-it was erotic and indeed, exotic. It amounted to a surprisingly powerful turn on.
"I'm glad you shaved your pussy, darling."
Damballah was naked save for knee high rubber boots. The heels looked dangerous. And they were alluring-even through her pain Sheila couldn't help but be aroused by the sight of the Damballah naked before her.
And then she noticed that Damballah's cunt flaps were also pierced. It wasn't a glaring hole or anything, but they had definitely been pierced. Like ears.
Sheila noticed that Damballah's labia seemed stretched out. It looked like a small sleeve.
Sheila was still screaming-shaking and writhing trying to ease the pain. It was no use. And the damndest thing, the one thing that she couldn't hide and felt ashamed of, was her stiff nipples.
"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!!!!" There were tears in her eyes.
Damballah just looked at her. For five years she had yearned for this, yearned to play out her wildest, most erotic fetishistic fantasies.
"SHUT UP!!!!!"
Sheila's face was tight with pain. Damballah spit on her.
"Fuck. Sit and stew, bitch. Didn't your mother ever tell you not to pick up hitch hikers? And right by the prison. Tsk, tsk, darling ... I'm going to get some beer. Shit. Five years without suds. "
She turned around on her heels and went up the stairs without looking back. Sheila heard the latch slide shut.
Damballah pulled off her boots and slipped into her sneakers and blue jeans and t-shirt. She found Sheila's keys and took her car.
She whistled the whole way. She was as happy as a goddam clam.
Only out of jail an hour and already she had a priceless slave and a car. Fuckin-A. She was on her way up.
She was undressed about a hundred times in thirty seconds by a dozen factory workers drinking cheap beer at the bar. She smiled at them and got her sixpack and was gone. She could here them make lewd comments as she left. Fuckers.
She really hated men. They were bastards, all of them. The one man who she had been close to had really messed up her life. He got her pregnant and then disappeared. Bastard. Damballah had to hitchhike a thousand miles to El Paso and then over the border to get an abortion. She bled all the way home and stunk up the Greyhound bus she was on with her foul smelling, dark, dark blood.
She gulped a beer down on the way back and tossed the can out on the interstate. Ah, to be free.
She kicked open her door and headed for the basement.
"You must be thirsty, darling ... "
Sheila nodded yes. Her throat was painfully dry and sore from screaming.
Damballah shook up a can of beer and opened it in Sheila's face.
"HA, HA, HAH"
Sheila was crying now. Damballah gulped at the rest of the beer and dropped the can. The beer had splashed all over her body and it glistened on her breasts.
Damballah pulled up an old wooden crate and sat down and finished the beer and opened another one and drank that one, too.
"Anybody gonna miss you?"
She shook her head.
"Good. Then you'll be staying for a while?" Sheila just sobbed and Damballah spit on her. "Cut it the fuck out. I'm just starting to have fun, darling, don't spoil it by being a cry baby."
Damballah stood up and reeled back nearly crashing into the crate of jelly jars. She was drunk.
She peeled off her clothes and stood with her legs spread wide over Sheila's face.
"Eat me."
Sheila pushed her mouth up against Damballah's slit and began to eat her out. She had such a lovely pussy it was a shame that she had to enjoy it like this, with her own pussy in such agonizing pain.
"Ahh ... That's it. Done this much before, darling?"
Sheila ran her tongue in circles around Damballah's clit and slid her tongue straight into her tunnel. She was enjoying it. She was eager to make love to her new master and she wasn't sure why. Somehow she was incredibly excited. Oh she hurt, all right, but Jesus! She was so fucking beautiful and demanding.
A helluva woman, really.
"Mmmmm ... "
She was bringing Damballah to orgasm. She shoved her face harder into her cunt and forced her tongue in deeper. She was fucking her quickly with her long pink muscle and was lapping up Damballah's tangy honey.
"Ohhhhh, yes ... "
Damballah fingered her own tits, squeezing and pinching and twisting her dark nipples into spirals of erotic agony.
She closed her legs around Sheila's face and closed her eyes. She lifted a foot and ran it over the black rubber corset. It felt smooth and tacky on her foot. She loved it.
She lowered her cunt onto Sheila's face and took her tongue all the way in. She could feel it diddle her cervix.
That was it.
She shook wildly as she creamed on her slave's face. Sheila lapped it up, incredibly turned on by the orgasm.
Damballah stepped back and opened her eyes. Her legs were shaky and she had to piss, all that beer ya know.
She stepped back over Sheila and covered her in steamy yellow piss.
It felt great, to Damballah that is. The heat of her urine soothed her loins and made her feel warm al over.
Sheila closed her eyes. She thought she was going to get sick.
"Here. A reward," Damballah said after she had finished pissing. "I know you're thirsty."
She put a full can of beer next to her and laughed. There was no way she would ever get to drink it, not with her arms bound high above her head.
It was cruder than pissing on the poor, thirsty woman. Sheila looked at her beer and cried.
Damballah headed upstairs, laughing the whole way.