RUSSIAN ROULETTE [Norgil]

RUSSIAN ROULETTE

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Russian Roulette
by Norgil. All rights reserved.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is an extreme story not for the faint hearts. Please do not read further if you don’t like these sort of material. Thanks.

One

Vladimir Alexander Koniev was a clever man. Clever, and ruthless, a very powerful combination in a land of opportunities, such as the post-Communist Russia. Ten years after the fall of the Communist regime, Koniev was running his own little empire with as strong a hand as the feared Communist leaders of the past. As strong a hand, but a better vision of the outside world

His business empire was a clever combination of legitimate businesses, most of them related to the entertainment industry (night-clubs, movie production, artists management), and underground enterprises, all sex-related (from soft escort-services to hardcore slave trading and snuff movies).

Unlike most of his competitors, Vladimir Koniev strongly believed that small is beautiful, and this belief was one of the many reasons behind his success. He had never tried to be the biggest dog on the block; on the contrary, he had specialized in providing expensive services for wealthy customers, keeping a rather low-profile in order to avoid the attention of the government authorities.

On this Saturday afternoon, Vlad was standing in front of the large windows of his summer residence, some 200 kilometers southeast of Moscow, and staring at the three limousines that stopped in the courtyard. He turned slightly to dump some cigar ash in the ashtray resting on the small table near the window, and stepped towards the center of the room to greet his visitors.

************

The young girl opened her eyes and looked around her in complete dismay. She did not know where she was. The room looked like a cell: a simple bunk, on which she laid, a steel toilet bowl and a washbasin, and nothing else, but a large door that seemed solid enough. What was she doing here? How did she get here, to start with? She had a hard time remembering what had happened to her.

She closed her eyes again and concentrated. Some images came back to her, a little bit foggy, but slowly clearing up.

She had just returned from the University to her small apartment, in the middle of the afternoon. The men had been waiting for her inside, and she had stood no chance against the three of them. Her apartment had been thoroughly searched, and all her clothes, including the sexiest ones, were arranged on her bed. The men had played with her for a little while. They had ordered her to undress, and then to parade for them in complete nakedness, to strike obscene poses for their pleasure. Since one of them always kept his gun pointing at her, she had had no choice but to comply with the humiliating instructions. Having found her small blue vibrator in the drawer of the bedside table, they had made her masturbate before them, the vibrator playing with her clit while a high-heel shoe was rammed up her tight asshole, and she had to play with herself until climax.

The man with the gun, who seemed to be the leader of the trio, had then selected a bra, a pair of stockings, a nice-looking dress and a pair of shoes that he handed out to her, instructing her to get dressed. She also remembered the other two men holding her firmly while the leader injected some kind of drug into the vein of her right arm, and of being carried out of the building to a waiting van. And then, nothing else until now

She examined herself. She was still dressed as when she had left the apartment; her dress was all crumpled up though, and her stockings had runs in various places. She stood up on quivering legs and went to the door. There was no handle on her side of it, just an electronic keypad. She pushed a few buttons randomly, and of course nothing happened

She leant against the door, and slammed her little fists at it, screaming for attention. By which she only achieved hurting her hands

************

Vladimir opened his arms in a large greeting gesture, and smiled broadly.

Welcome to my dacha, my friends. It is a pleasure to meet you! His English was near perfect, even though a bit accentuated. He shook hands in turn with each one of the visitors, having a nice word for each one of them. These were customers, and Vladimir knew the value of good service in order to get repeat business.

Each one of them had paid him 15 000 Euros to be here today. 30 000 Euros made in just a couple of hours, with practically no overhead cost And that was just the tip of the iceberg: this amount didnТt include the distribution sales and profit

Vladimir looked at them, burning as many details as he could into his memory. He was good at reading people, and in addition to his computer files, he liked to keep personal files, in the privacy of his own mind.

Jack Leary, the American, had been a football player in his early years. At more than 50, he still showed a muscular stature, with broad shoulders under the expensive dark suit of the successful financier that he had become. Vladimir had already been in business with him once, and Leary had proven to be an inventive customer.

Kurt Meister was a Swiss citizen, a thin man with large spectacles. This one didnТt look dangerous at all; another proof that looks can be deceiving. Vladimir had already seen him at work, and that was rather scary Like Leary, he was a repeat customer, but the two men had never met before.

After rapidly doing the introductions, Vladimir came to the heart of the subject.

You all know the rules, but I shall repeat them one last time, my friends. We have one girl today: she is 23, very nice-looking, great tits, and as far as we know she is very resilient and in good health Apart from any unforeseen weaknesses, she should last long if you men prove just a little careful

The action will take place in studio number 2; some of you have already visited here. All the necessary video equipment is in place, along with the crew to operate it. The whole action will be filmed, as usual, and you will receive a complimentary copy of the film, on DVD. In order to protect your identities, the masks that you have requested are awaiting you in the anteroom of the studio. No name will be pronounced during the session. Try to respect that rule, so that we donТt have to loose time and money on editing the soundtrack in the end This is a difficult constraint imposed by the direct sound format

Vladimir smiled at his guest, who all nodded agreeably.

The session will start with our own expert, Tanya Bogdanova, an ex-KGB interrogation specialist. Then in turn, you will each be given some time with the subject. Now, remember: there are no limits as to what you can do her, except that she must still be alive at the end of your time and able to endure more at the hands of the next one This also stands true for the last participant, ok? The subject must still be breathing at the end of the session She may be critically injured for all I care, but she must be alive!

Are we clear on this, gentlemen?

Vladimir gave a circular glance around the room, and noted a unanimous nod from his customers.

Very well Any questions?

No one had anything to ask.

Then I guess itТs time to draw for the order in which you will use the subject. We will leave that to luck, of course.

Vladimir placed a deck of cards on the table, and spread the cards, face down. Each one of the two men stood up, selected a card and turned it over for all to see The game had begun

LetТs proceed then Have fun with your film star of the day. Her name is Katia, by the way This is the only name allowed to be spoken during the recording!

________________________________________

Two.

Katia was pushed into a room that was quite dark. It seemed to be large, and she could not make out the far walls because of the poor lighting. She could sense the presence of several people in front of her, but she could not see them other than dark shapes in the shadows.

Two men had taken her out of her cell and brought her directly into this strange room, without speaking a word to her. After throwing her inside by a side door, they had silently disappeared, leaving her alone, shivering in the dim light, wondering what was going to happen to her.

Stepping out of the shadow, a woman approached her. She was taller than Katia, and was dressed in a perfectly ironed Russian Army uniform. But the most surprising feature of it all was the leather mask that covered the top portion of her face, just under the brim of the military cap.

Katia stepped backwards as the impressive figure came forward. The woman stopped a few feet away from the young and terrified girl. She made a sign with her hand, and suddenly powerful overhead lights came on, bathing Katia and the stern-looking woman in their illumination.

Looking past her, Katia could see a lot of movie equipment all around the room, which had to be a recording studio for movies. Behind the lights, cameras and sound grips, a few men were running the show. But what retained her attention was the small group of men standing in the middle of the room. Each one of them was wearing a mask, entirely hiding his facial features. From where she stood, Katia could make out a hockey mask and a very common ski mask.

KatiaТs mind had barely registered these images when the woman in front of her slapped her in the face, violently and suddenly. Katia fell backwards on the floor, and brought her fingers to her lips: a drop of blood was smearing the fingertip. She was still too surprised to be able to utter a word, when she heard the woman shout to no one in particular:

Start rolling!

The woman towered over her, and explained in a voice that was ice cold.

Listen carefully, bitch! You are here to be tortured Tortured and filmed! The woman made a large gesture towards the equipment filling up the back end of the room.

As you can see, we are well equipped for shooting films. The only thing that we lacked was a star Now, we have it. ThatТs you, my dear!

Still clouded by the sudden strike, KatiaТs mind was desperately trying to cope with the situation. In a feeble voice, she asked:

What do you mean? I donТt understand What do you want of me?

It is very simple. We are going to make a movie of you being tortured, in various ways, by different persons This is going to be extremely painful for you and extremely pleasurable for our viewers not mentioning our participants, of course!

Katia was starting to understand. She gasped:

Please, donТt hurt me Please

You can beg all you want, slut! In fact, the more you beg, the better the movie. You donТt imagine how much people are ready to pay to view a real torture show Not some silly bondage film where the whips donТt leave any mark This here is the real thing The whole nine yards and you are the star! ArenТt you proud?

Katia, still lying on the floor, eyes bulging in horror, could barely breathe. She kept gazing incredulously at the tall woman who was now straddling her and looking down at her. Even through the small eye-slits in the leather mask, Katia could make out the evilness in the stare that fell upon her. She did not notice the cameras being rolled forward towards the place where the two women were standing, filming the scene in a slow forward travel.

Enough small talk Take off your clothes. All of them, and right now!

Tanya Bogdanova punctuated her order with a vicious kick in KatiaТs ribs. She stepped back a little, to leave a clear field of vision for the cameras that concentrated on the young girl. Katia, without really thinking about what she was doing, slowly stood up and let her dress slip down past her and fall into a heap at her feet. She unhooked the clip of her bra and liberated two nice globes, not extremely large but very nicely shaped. It only took her a second to get rid of the stockings that were already ruined, and she stood naked in the crude light of the camera crew, trying to cover her intimate parts with her hands, shivering from fear more than cold in the well-heated studio.

Tanya came to her again, holding a large leather belt in her hand. She expertly fastened the belt around KatiaТs waist, and buckled it in her back, locking the little padlock with a key. She took the girlТs wrists and locked each one in a leather cuff that was attached to the side of the belt, above KatiaТs hips.

Katia stuttered:

What What are you going to do to me?

You will see soon enough, donТt worry about that! Tanya turned her back to Katia and pointed toward the men with the hockey mask and the ski mask.

You two come and hold the bitch still.

The two men came forward and took hold of KatiaТs elbows in their powerful hands and made sure that she would not move too much. Tanya foraged into her uniform jacket pocket and produced a few medical needles in their sterilized plastic containers. She opened one package and removed the needle that she held just in front of KatiaТs eyes.

IТm going to start with a few needles into your nipples. Then, the rest will come as a surprise

TanyaТs left hand cupped KatiaТs left tit and played with the nipple until it stood large and erect. She pinched the nipple with her left fingers and pulled on it in order to elongate it. Katia started to groan, but was cut short by the sharp pain when the needle went through her thick bud. With a precise push, the needle had sliced through the delicate flesh, from side to side. Katia had to suck in her breath: surprise, pain and horror made an overpowering mixture of emotions that she could barely stand.

The other side now! said Tanya, already preparing another needle identical to the first one.

A few seconds later, KatiaТs right nipple was similarly pierced by the needle, and Tanya stepped back to admire her work. Both nipples were pierced in the exact same way, in a perfect symmetry that could only be achieved through sheer practice.

From another pocket, Tanya produced two short lengths of chain, each terminated at one end with a pair of S-shaped hooks. She took her time to fasten the little chains to the needles going through the girlТs nipples: one chain for each tit, one S-shaped hook on each end of the needle protruding on both sides of the tortured nipple.

Tanya tugged viciously the free ends of the chains, causing Katia to yell in pain as both her nipples burnt with the horrible pull on the delicate flesh. Still pulling on the chains, Tanya led her victim forward and slightly to the right, where a little wooden stage was waiting. The cameras and lights followed the movement, always focused on the girl whose face was now a mask of sheer terror.

On the stage, now in plain sight under the bright lights, was a horizontal round and smooth metal bar, standing about waist high on two vertical poles planted in the stage. Tanya moved to the other side of the bar compared to Katia and pulled her against the bar, making her bend forward at the waist while she stepped back still pulling on the two chains and therefore on the tormented nipples. Katia let out a groan and a feeble plea for release while her boobs and nipples were being extended beyond anything she had thought possible.

When KatiaТs chest reached a horizontal position, Tanya fastened the free ends of the chains to a metal ring buried into the wooden stage, a few feet ahead and under KatiaТs chin. KatiaТs boobs were now obscenely extended; making them look like cow udders, and the pain in her nipples caused her to shriek horribly.

Working a little lever on the side of the stage, Tanya raised the horizontal bar a few inches, so that KatiaТs feet were no longer touching the floor. The two masked men then secured her ankles in such a way that her legs were kept straight and wide apart, and her whole body ended up precariously balanced over the horizontal bar. Every move, however small, generated more pain in her nipples which started bleeding, the blood dripping along the chains, catching the light in an interesting way for the camera.

Tanya turned towards the camera crew and made sure that the framing and the lights were perfect. In the underground market for snuff movies, KonievТs productions were famous for their quality, far surpassing their competitors. Upon receiving a silent nod, Tanya grabbed a small bench and set it in front of Katia, right between the bleeding boobs. She also pulled up a wheeled cart, carrying a variety of medical supplies and instruments. All the surgical steel was gleaming in the bright light, and Tanya knew that the visual effect on film would be good: surely a nice close-up shot!

Tanya sat down on the end of the bench closest to Katia, keeping the tray on her right. She gently, almost lovingly, took KatiaТs chin in her hand, and pulled it up slightly, so that she could make eye contact with the tortured girl. Her left finger slowly erased a tear on KatiaТs cheek.

How do you feel, baby? Are you still with us?

Katia could barely speak. In a whisper, she pleaded:

Please DonТt hurt me any more Let me go, please

Well, IТm afraid we canТt do that yet In a while, maybe But we need to shoot a full-length movie, dear, and weТve barely started

Tanya let go KatiaТs face and started sorting through the equipment on the tray. On the top shelf she arranged a small bottle of clear liquid, a few cotton pads, a couple of scalpels. She put on surgical gloves, under the horrified gaze of Katia.

This is not what you expect, Katia. IТm sure youТre going to be surprised. I will leave the scalpels unused for now Just a cotton ball and this little bottle

She picked up the unlabelled bottle and brought it in front of KatiaТs eyes. She unscrewed the lid and asked:

Do you know whatТs in here, dear? Smell this, and tell me if you have any idea

She brought the bottle under KatiaТs nose and left it there for a few seconds. Katia sniffed a couple of times, expecting an alcohol smell, but could detect nothing she recognized.

With an evil smile, Tanya said:

No idea, little girl? ThatТs fine, you will find out soon enough

Tanya nodded towards one cameraman who came forward and set his portable camera very close to KatiaТs left breast, whose terror was ever growing. Tanya was busy carefully pouring some of the liquid on a cotton ball.

Very slowly and very deliberately, she swabbed the nipple with the liquid, from top to bottom, perpendicularly to the needle insertion, and then from side to side, apparently cleaning the whole button. During the whole time, she kept on smiling.

At first nothing happened and Katia, who had feared the worst, wondered what this was about. But a few seconds later her eyes widened and she took a long breath before letting a guttural scream out of her lungs. Her left nipple doubled in size in a matter of minutes and the skin covering it became as tight as a drum-skin.

Katia was now shrieking maniacally. She screamed at the top of her voice, thrashing in her bonds as a banshee, ripping off her pierced nipples even more with the uncontrollable jerking motions. Her naked body was covered with sweat, and glistened under the camera lights.

Katia lost her voice for a little while when the pain climaxed, and she emitted a silent scream right before collapsing suddenly. She rested over the metal bar, like a broken doll, hanging by her elongated and bleeding boobs, crying pitifully, her words hardly audible

Tanya looked at her with a faint smile. She gave her a couple of instants before addressing her.

Not exactly what you expected, was it? Let me tell you what happened, bitch! This was not alcohol in the bottle, but carbon tetrachloride, a strong de-greasing agent. I removed all of the natural oils from your skin over your areola, thus leaving the tissue unprotected from the air. To be more precise, I should say from the oxygen, which in this particular case, burns like acid. Did you like my skin treatment, my dear?

Katia, still limp and breathing heavily, looked at her left nipple. The swelling had not subsided and the skin was still shiny and taught. She caught a movement with the corner of her eye, and saw Tanya picking up a scalpel from the tray. The sharp instrument shone viciously under the bright light.

Very precisely, Tanya applied the blade to the tip of the swollen nipple. She barely pressed on it, and the skin split with an audible pop, immediately covered by the cry of agony that escaped KatiaТs throat a split second before she fainted.

Tanya quickly revived her with ammonia, waiting patiently for the screams to start again. When they did, proving without doubt that Katia had regained consciousness, she touched the ruptured nipple with a fingernail and flipped back a piece of loose skin that still clung to it.

Very expertly, she proceeded to decorticate the oversensitive areola. KatiaТs eyes rolled back in their sockets and the veins in her neck bulged as the dermis beneath the outer layer of skin was slowly but inexorably exposed. The pain became so excruciating that she fainted a second time. Once again, Tanya used the ammonium salts to bring her back, so that she could suffer the full agony of the procedure.

When Tanya was done with the complete excoriation of KatiaТs left nipple, the poor girlТs pleas for mercy were no longer understandable.

That was a good introduction I think IТm going to keep the other nipple for later She stood up and pushed the bench and cart towards the wall, giving a last sadistic glance at her shivering victim.

________________________________________

Three

The man wearing the ski mask approached the stage where Katia was still hanging limply over the metal bar. Unknown to her of course, the man was Kurt Meister, who having drawn the highest card during the draw, had chosen to be the first tormentor after Tanya.

He talked to Tanya:

I need the girl to be set on the gynecological table.

Tanya gave a few instructions, and helpers brought the table forward, while others unfastened the subject from the stage. Katia could barely stand up, still quivering in pain, and two men held her securely by the elbows and took her to the chair. In a pain filled haze, she noticed that several leather straps were hanging down from various parts of the chair, which had been located under a metal frame that reminded her of a swing set.

After removing the belt that kept her wrists pinned to her sides, the two helpers placed her on the chair, immediately cuffed her wrists together behind it and locked them to a hook at the chair.

Meister took the straps and fastened her legs to the stirrups, before pulling her legs wide apart with a wench. Additional straps were attached tight over her hip, beneath her breasts around her shoulders and her forehead. The whole thing took less than three minutes, and she was completely unable to move.

Meister went to the wall and came back with a large metal case, like the ones used to carry photo equipment. He placed the case on the floor next to him, in between KatiaТs legs, and opened it. Katia could not see what was in it, but her mind was racing in utter terror.

In a soft educated voice, the man told her:

It is obvious that you are a fainter. This is not good I want you to enjoy every minute of this show

From the case he removed a syringe and pushed it into KatiaТs thigh, explaining in a scholarly tone:

This will support your circulation and prevent you from fainting too easily. Katia did not even feel the little prick pain from the injection; her senses were still overwhelmed by the horrible pain from her left nipple.

The man fumbled in his case once more, while the crewmen rearranged their cameras and lights around the scene in order to have a clear field of vision of the girl and her tormentor.

Meister stood up, holding a large hose in his right hand. He showed it to her and explained:

This is a vacuum pump. IТm going to place it on your clit, which needs to be enlarged, before I can start working on it.

Katia felt the man fumbling on her clit, and she moaned absentmindedly. The pulling sensation rapidly increased, her moaning grew louder, and she wiggled feebly under the straps.

Maybe five minutes later, Meister turned off the switch on the pump. He looked approvingly between KatiaТs thighs and smiled to her:

Too bad you canТt see your clit ItТs over an inch long now!

Meister took a thick sewing needle from his case, with a strange looking and somewhat inflexible thread hanging down from the eye of it. Katia started trembling in the stirrups when the man brought down the needle between her thighs.

Not even looking at her directly, Meister explained:

You see this thread? It is a thin copper wire.

The sentence was barely finished when Katia screamed horribly, jerking wildly in her bonds and rattling the chair noisily. The piercing pain was excruciating. The cameraman zoomed in on the girlТs clit, now pierced at its very base. The needle went all the way through the knob, followed by the whole length of the copper wire. Meister expertly tied a knot at the end of the thread, thus preventing it from slipping through.

Let me do a full turn around your clit and pierce it again.

The pain was even worse the second time, and without the medicinal support Katia would have fainted again. Unfortunately for her, she kept her senses and remained fully aware of the searing pain tearing through her tender flesh. Meister went on with his precise procedure, piercing the clit a total of six times, until he finally pulled the wire tight, but not tight enough to stop the blood flow. He cut off the rest of the wire, and threw the unused length on the floor.

Katia, her mouth wide open, was silently screaming, her body shivering and gleaming in the light of the camera.

Without a word, Meister unzipped his pants and pushed his hard dick in the girlТs asshole as violently as he could. Katia screamed again, loudly this time, as the man penetrated her back entrance. He pumped her fiercely in and out, ramming his cock as deep as possible in KatiaТs entrails. He rapidly came inside her ass, drew back and zipped up his pants, still completely silent.

From the case, Meister removed a black box, the size of a cigarette packet, which he placed on the edge of the exam table, between KatiaТs thighs. The box was a small current generator with two electrodes, shaped like alligator clips. He clamped one on KatiaТs left inner labia, and the other to the wire that was encircling her clitoris. Katia gasped when the little metal teeth bit on her flesh.

Small is beautiful, as they say Well, in this case, small is powerful. This generator will create electric shocks, in a random fashion in intensity, duration and interval. Some will barely tingle while others will drive you insane. Some will last only one second, others way longer This will keep you entertained while I work elsewhere on your lovely body. IsnТt this nice, dear? Meister smiled viciously at the girl who could barely comprehend the words.

Oh I almost forgot Feel free to piss or shit, Katia, IТll be on the other side of you for a little while

Meister had just finished speaking when the first shock occurred. KatiaТs lower body convulsed and she howled like mad. It felt as if her clit was burnt away. The shock lasted no more than three seconds, but it left her trembling and shivering, anticipating fearfully the next one.

About thirty seconds later, the next shock went through her pussy. It was not as bad as the previous one, but still strong enough that she had to bite hard on her tongue not to scream. This one lasted more than a minute, and tears ran down her cheeks while she endured the torture. The shock had barely stopped when the third one took her completely by surprise. It was even worse than the first one, and this time she cried aloud, fighting in vain against her restraints.

In the meantime, Meister had kept himself busy. He had grabbed a stool and set it next to KatiaТs head. He had patiently waited for her next scream, and when she opened her mouth, he had expertly taken hold of her tongue, that he connected to a clamp attached to the swing set upper bar. The metal bit cruelly into her tongue, and she tried to howl, but that was extremely difficult now that her tongue was clamped out and extended.

With a little winch, he raised the clamp and Katia thought that he was going to rip her tongue out of her mouth. At the same moment, another shock tore through her clit and labia, and she almost ripped her own tongue off with her wild jerking movements of agony. Tears were now constantly running down her cheeks.

From a dark corner of the room, Meister brought a large water fountain on wheels, similar to the ones usually found in public lobbies, except for the clear plastic tube that was coiled around it. He showed the tube to Katia, and then started inserting it into her mouth. With her tongue pegged out as it was, she could do nothing against the choking penetration. She felt the tube entering her throat and for a moment she thought she was going to vomit. But the tube passed the throat and went down into her stomach.

Meister whispered in her ear:

IТm sure youТre very thirsty by now, poor little thing Let me help you!

He opened a valve on the fountain. Water shot into her stomach. The pressure slowly built up in her belly, and her entire abdomen became an ocean of pain. A few minutes later, after she had taken in three liters of liquid, the pressure became unbearable, and Katia was constantly crying. Meister closed the valve.

Katia looked down at her body, that she could barely recognize: her belly was obscenely distended, so much that from her point of view, her pussy had become invisible, masked by the bloated mass of her belly. And the disgusting mass was trembling uncontrollably every time the generator caused a new shock, in spite of the straps that constricted it at hip level.

Meister stood up, and circled the girlТs body towards the open thighs once more.

For you to really look like a big fat slut, we need some more volume in here.

From the case, he took a long black hose and spread some kind of lubricant over its end. He then pushed it into KatiaТs rectum, still sore from the violent penetration she had endured earlier. In a desperate effort to resist the anal invasion, Katia had tired to keep her sphincter tightly closed, but Meister had no real difficulty in forcing it. He slowly pushed the hose into her, foot by foot.

In between the jerks generated by the electric shocks, the feeling was unpleasant and strange, but not really painful.

With his quiet voice, Meister explained:

This is really flexible, and will follow the windings of your bowels. IТm going to push a full meter inside of your entrails.

From the corner of her eye, she saw him connect a hand pump to the hose. Meister began pumping. At first, she felt nothing, but after a minute or so she began to feel a deep pain. The man in the ski mask continued pumping, and KatiaТs belly increased a little more. She screamed a horrible and inarticulate yell.

Meister looked at her, smiling broadly.

Now is time to have some fun with you!

Meister went to the wall and came back with a leather strap. Without a word of warning, he began beating her belly with all his strength. Every strike left an angry looking stripe on the distended skin. Katia yelled constantly, while the cameraman got a few close-up shots of her open mouth and clamped tongue. The combined pain from the strap, the electric shocks and her changed body was more than she had ever experienced.

Meister took his time covering her full lower torso with red welts, and then shifted his attention to her boobs. The pain on the right breast was horrible, but nothing compared to the agony she experienced every time the strap landed on the left, skinned, nipple. Katia howled constantly, and wiggled in her bonds, trying desperately to break free.

Very rapidly, both globes turned deeply red and blue. But Meister did not stop. Instead, he switched to a thin riding crop, and resumed his vicious beating. KatiaТs tormented body was dripping wet from the sweat, and she was breathing with difficulty.

Meister whipped the girl for fifteen more minutes, until he was himself panting from the effort. KatiaТs body was completely covered with welts, and her skin had been broken in many places. Blood was dripping not only from her horribly tortured left nipple, but also from all over her torso and belly. Unable to control herself, she had peed and shit during the whipping, praying for the torture to stop. A silent prayer, that remained unheard by God.

Apparently satisfied with his work, and visibly exhausted by the physical effort, Meister decided to stop and to give way to the next torturer. He approached the girl, bent forward, and in a mocking kiss, ran his tongue along KatiaТs one, still clamped and extended towards the ceiling. He turned off the generator, and removed the two electrodes. Katia did not even feel the difference: her mind at this point was overwhelmed with waves of pain.

________________________________________

Four

Leary, his face covered with the hockey mask, came forward into the lights. With his large shoulders and impressive physique, he looked like a gigantic Jason, from the famous horror movie.

Before reaching the chair and the strapped subject, he went right and came back with a metal and wheeled table, covered with power tools of various sorts. He set the table next to the chair, and backed a bit to let the camera pan over the table, showing the viewers the instruments that were about to be used on the girl.

He stood in between KatiaТs thighs, towering over the panting and sobbing girl, and said:

I guess the time has come for some serious genital torture, dear!

Katia did not react.

Leary took a pair of mirrors and hooked them to the metal frame that encased the chair in such a way that from her position, the girl was now able to see her pussy.

I want you to watch everything I will do to you. Keep your eyes on the mirrors

IТm going to start with your clitoris, which by now, is already quite worn out, he explained with a sadistic grin.

Against her own will, Katia looked at her clit, with the help of the mirrors. It was deeply red and swollen, and looked strange with the copper wire running inside and around it. The masked man slightly touched the tip of the clit, and a flash of pain shot through KatiaТs body. She yelped.

She yelped even more when Leary began working on the wire constricting her clit; he carefully straightened the end of it, maybe a couple of inches. KatiaТs eyes widened in terror when she saw him grab a gas torch on the table. Leary lit the torch and the blue flame hissed softly.

Very slowly, he brought the flame right under the end of the wire, which was now sticking freely in the air. It took a few seconds for the heat to reach her flesh, but then the pain rushed through the most sensitive part of her body.

She howled, but that was all she could do: screaming her lungs out, in a guttural cry, a gurgling sound that pierced the ears of all the spectators present in the room. Via the set of mirrors, she watched her clit getting darker and darker, and a small cloud of smoke rose from it. Katia could not believe her own eyes.

Leary looked at her, smiled and continued. KatiaТs whole body was in fire, but she could only suffer and yell, unable to remove the precious flesh out of the danger zone. It burnt to a dark brown color, and she smelled her own roasted flesh.

Despite her screams, she could still hear her own meat sizzling away. She had no more air to scream and cry; she was loosing it. Meanwhile, the rosebud kept on turning darker and darker, and finally became charcoal black.

Leary put down the torch, and slipped his right hand in a very thick working glove. He reached out for the glowing wire, took the free end of it, and pulled at it.

Katia gasped in shock when she saw her burnt clit coming off.

Leary showed her the coiled wire with the burnt flesh attached to it.

You see, itТs already cauterized!

Turning her eyes back towards the mirrors, Katia looked in disbelief and utter shock at the black wound in her slit, and simply couldnТt believe it. But the horrible pain was there to remind her of the reality of the treatment that had been inflicted to her.

Now that weТre done with your charming clit, letТs start working on your slit itself, commented the hockey mask.

Leary removed the thick glove and donned a pair of regular gloves instead. From the table, he picked up a little tube of super glue. Very carefully, he spread the adhesive on the girlТs outer labia. Working with one pair of lips at a time, he peeled the pliant tissue open, folded it back and held it against her thigh for a minute or so, until the adhesive had bonded. When he had done this to both pairs of lips, the rosy inner surfaces of KatiaТs slit were revealed like the petals of a flower, and the entrance to her vaginal canal was presented to him unobstructed.

Sliding two fingers into the passage, he pressed the wet walls and felt the strong muscle tighten as Katia reacted to the unwelcome intrusion. For a few moments he allowed himself the pleasure of exploring the love nest, receiving enjoyment from the resistance Katia put up in her vain attempt to prevent him from delving further into her.

At last, Leary withdrew his fingers, satisfied that the girl was still conscious enough to understand what was going to happen to her in the coming minutes. Leary was quite impressed with the amount of pain the girl had sustained so far; and he was going to add some more to that, for good measure.

Leary reached down on the lower shelf of the instruments table and his right hand took hold of a dentist drill on the end of an articulated arm. In his left hand, he held a cloth that had been soaking in a small pan.

Bracing his right arm against KatiaТs left thigh, he started the drill. The tiny, surgically engineered bit turned twelve thousand times every second, and carried a little brass-wire brush in its jaws.

The raw ends of the bristles kissed the inner surface of KatiaТs major lip for just an instant, but during that small fraction of a second, they stripped a tiny piece of flesh, the diameter of a pencil and about 3 millimeters deep, from the sensitive tissue. Leary removed the drill and immediately pressed the saturated cloth against the injured area. The strong aroma of the antiseptic caught in his nostrils. Nonetheless, the impact this odor had on his senses was immediately overpowered by the frenzied shriek of pain that assaulted his ears when Katia emitted a horrific sound.

Leary, working patiently and with exact precision, kept Katia screaming constantly for fifteen minutes before she finally lost consciousness. While the girl was out of her painful world, he examined his handiwork. In fifteen minutes, the drill had made its brief contact with KatiaТs skin exactly sixteen times, and both lips bore half a dozen wounds, while the rest of the marks were shared between the two smaller and more sensitive inner lips.

The tiny injuries were not bleeding; a simple pinpoint of blood marked the spots. They were carefully spaced and made a nice diagram on the girlТs pussy lips, and each one of them had drawn an animal scream from Katia. A faint odor of vinegar could still be smelled coming from the acetic acid Leary had used to clean the wounds immediately after inflicting them, thus enhancing the pain.

The man in the hockey mask stood up and brought a vial of ammonium salts under KatiaТs nose in order to bring her back to reality. Upon regaining consciousness, Katia started groaning again, and her whole body trembled under the crude light that bathed her.

Welcome back, dearest, commented Leary, while gently brushing her hair away from her face. The gesture was almost tender, in complete contradiction with what had preceded it, and what was about to follow.

Going back to the tool table, Leary selected a short length of steel wire that he snipped from a coil. Over his forehead he donned a headlamp, held with elastic straps, which made him look like a demented surgeon.

Turning his attention back to KatiaТs genital area, he brought the jagged end of the wire to the entrance of the girlТs urethra. He slowly pushed the wire into the highly sensitive duct, and with a swift motion of his fingertips, he started to rotate the metal rod. He did that for a couple of minutes, at various depths of insertion, to make sure that the whole canal would be scratched from the inside. The girlТs body stiffened and she resumed her heavy breathing through her open mouth. Very soon, she started screaming again.

Leary knew that the pain he was causing would not last very long; as soon as he removed the steel wire, it would stop. That is, until the girl had to piss

The man dropped the wire onto the table. From the lower shelf, he removed a heavy douche bag to which was connected a clear plastic tube. He hooked the bag to the high beam of the swing set frame. He expertly inserted a catheter and reached KatiaТs bladder, before connecting the catheter to the douche bag tube. He opened the safety valve and looked at the liquid draining into the girlТs bladder, smiling broadly. Very rapidly, the bag emptied itself in KatiaТs entrails.

Leary now took hold of the small propane torch that had been used previously to burn KatiaТs clit, and lit it with his lighter. With the torch hissing in his right hand, he stepped sideways, away from KatiaТs genital region and used his free left hand to pull out the catheter.

After a few instants, he saw a thin stream of clear liquid arise from between KatiaТs thighs and arc towards the floor, in a perfect parabola. But even before the first drop of piss reached the ground, the girl squealed horribly. The stream of urine stopped abruptly and, turning his attention to the girlТs face, Leary could see a look of full pain, astonishment and utter disbelief. A few more drops found their way out, and Katia yelled again in pure agony, a high-pitch scream that was painful for all who heard it.

The man waited a while, watching KatiaТs face and the forced concentration devouring her facial features while she was doing her best to keep her sphincters closed in order to stop the pain slicing through her lower abdomen.

When he gauged that KatiaТs mind was entirely focused on avoiding pissing, he suddenly passed the tip of the blue flame across her right nipple in a slow swinging arc. Immediately, the path of the flame appeared on the girlТs skin, leaving a blistering red line splitting the areola in two.

When the scorching pain reached KatiaТs senses, she instantly lost her concentration and cried out loud because of the new agony. Her bladder resumed its emptying process involuntarily, sending the caustic liquid into the urethra. In an incredible effort, she closed her mind to the searing pain in her right tit, and clamped her shut, stopping the evacuation of her bloated bladder. This earned her a second red line on her nipple, parallel to the previous one.

Katia endured the combined torture for almost ten minutes before passing out again, with flecks of froth staining the corners of her mouth. After her fainting, the liquid still contained in her bladder flowed freely. Her right breast was covered with a network of red lines, all passing over the nipple, burnt beyond recognition by now. The blisters were humongous, some of them already open and the flesh under the epidermis already burnt into charcoal.

Leary revived Katia before piercing each blister that had not yet popped open. He squeezed the fluid from inside and then slowly removed the sliver of skin free. Katia had screamed continuously, until the man swabbed the freshly exposed tissue with a saline solution.

Katia was a total mess. The smell around her was starting to be unbearable, a mix of sweat, piss, shit, burnt flesh, blood She was still conscious, but barely. Her tortured body was practically unmoving, even under the torments. She was loosing it at last

Leary went back to the group and talked to Tanya:

I donТt think she can take much more of that If you want to keep her alive, weТd better slow down a bit

From previous experiences, Tanya knew that the man was a pretty good judge of the human resistance to pain. She nodded and went to talk to he chief cameraman for a couple of minutes. When she came back, she said in a cold voice:

YouТre probably right In any case, we have a good film so far. The crew says we have more than sixty minutes of good footage, after cuts and editing. IТm going to finish her off

________________________________________

Five

Tanya stepped toward the chair and the broken and deformed body that lay on it. Fumbling on the underside of the chair, she finally extended a wooden board at shoulder height, on the right side of the contraption. She moved to the head of the chair and unfastened the cuffs that kept KatiaТs hands tied to the chair. The limbs were heavy in her hands, unsupported by any will from Katia.

With some duct tape she fixed her right arm and hand flat over the extension. Tanya sat on a stool located near the end of the extended arm, and brought forward a wheeled cart supporting several instruments.

She took a pair of needle-nose pliers and explained to Katia, who was barely able to understand the words:

First, IТm going to extract those nice nails of yours

Tanya pressed the pliers under the nail of KatiaТs thumb. The pain was indescribable. She closed the pliers and forcefully pulled the nail out. Katia screamed like mad. Tanya threw the nail to the ground at her feet, and did not wait long before attacking the next one.

She twisted it around before extracting it. The third one, she bent back completely before pulling. Katia nearly passed out this time, and Tanya stopped her work for a while, just long enough to make another shot into KatiaТs thigh. She didnТt want the girl to faint again before she was done with her.

KatiaТs fingers were bleeding profusely now, but the woman in the Russian uniform did not care about that. In rapid succession, she pulled out the two remaining nails from the right hand.

Leaving the pliers on the cart, she switched to a pipe wrench. She used it on KatiaТs index finger, and after a few seconds of pressure, all present heard the bones crack loudly. Tanya turned the finger around, to make sure that all the bones had been broken.

Tanya put the wrench on KatiaТs little finger and shattered the bones in a similar way. She was now working rather fast, barely stopping between each torment. Tears were streaming down KatiaТs cheeks continuously, and her voice was coarse from all the screaming.

Tanya used a small carpenter hammer to push nails through the back of KatiaТs hand into the wooden extension. Some nails, she carefully placed in between the hand bones; some she took care to bury directly into the bones, and every time Katia shrieked inhumanly.

The whole process took no more than fifteen minutes, at the end of which Tanya stood up and unclamped KatiaТs tongue. The tongue retracted under its own weight into the girlТs mouth, but she was still unable to move it.

Tanya leaned forward and whispered into KatiaТs right ear.

Listen to me carefully! I am going to give you a choice now. We are done with you for now. We can set you free and dump you somewhere on the outskirts of the city, where somebody may find you in the next day or two Or we can terminate you right away for good, and put you out of your misery I know you cannot talk If you want me to kill you right now, keep your eyes closed for a second It is your choice, Katia.

Tanya stood up while keeping her eyes on KatiaТs face. She could almost see the wheeles turning in the brain of the girl, pounding the alternatives that were offered to her. After maybe three seconds, Katia closed her eyes and kept them shut for a long time

The room was quiet for an eternal moment; quiet for the first time in a long time so it seemed. Only the sound of the whirring cameras broke the silence.

Cut! shouted Tanya.

************

Two hours later, a van stopped next to the side entrance of a derelict factory, sometimes used by squatters and homeless souls. Two men opened the back doors, and after making sure that no one was in sight, dragged a bloodied corpse to the ground. They pushed it against the wall, and rapidly covered it with litter. Les than one minute after having stopped, the van disappeared behind the corner of the street.

One hour later, a shady old man left the factory and began walking on unsteady legs towards the street corner. Barely able to stand up by himself, he kept his hand on the wall for help. After walking a few meters, his left foot got caught up in something and the man fell to the ground. It took him a few seconds to realize what had happened to him, and still lying down, he started fumbling in the litter to find the object that caused his fall.

He lifted a piece of cardboard and peered into a face. The eyes were completely out of focus, but the eyelids were still trembling

End of story.

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AU PAIR IN HELL [Norgil]

AU PAIR IN HELL

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Au Pair in Hell
Chapter one

by Norgil.
Posted April 25th, 2004

This Saturday morning, Mark and Laura had been working continuously in the garage for a couple of hours. MarkТs Jaguar and LauraТs BMW had been pulled into the stone driveway, making room in the huge garage. Ropes and pulleys had been attached to the high beam; eyebolts and hooks had been drilled into the walls and concrete floor. Things were shaping up nicely for their secret and perverse project

Mark and Laura made a nice couple. On the outside at least.

At 45, Mark was a very successful on-line trader. After working many years for one of the most prestigious investment firms in the USA, he had decided to play the financial markets for his own account. A few years later, he had accumulated a rather impressive amount of wealth, accumulating gains on the options markets that he knew so well. More importantly, he worked from his house and didnТt have to go to any office in the morning. His office was one of the many rooms of his mansion, with a direct view on the swimming pool. The house itself was located on Biscayne Bay, along the interior lagoon of Miami Beach: a typical Spanish architectural style, with red-tiled roofs, many porches and loggias. And a huge expense of land, allowing for a complete privacy.

Ten years younger than Mark, Laura owned a couple of shops, selling sexy outfits to upscale customers. Both stores were doing well; both were run by efficient managers, thus allowing Laura to dedicate her time to staying in shape. She only went to the stores to make decisions regarding the new collections to buy from the best fashion houses in Europe.

Three months ago, Mark and Laura had placed an ad for a live-in domestic. The ad required an au-pair girl, with skills to care for the mansion and the basic needs of the owners. They had received many replies and seen many candidates for the position. Unbeknownst to the girls, the criteria of selection were, in reality, more geared towards the perverse needs of the couple. After a few weeks, they had finally agreed on a young Spanish girl, recently arrived to the USA. Felicia was 21 years old, spoke moderately good English and was very nice looking: long blond hair, the face of an angel with deep green eyes and a voluptuous mouth, firm round breasts, a muscular belly, shapely and tanned legs Above all, her manners were quite subdued and extremely polite, a feature that attracted Mark and Laura very much. After a short interview of less than an hour, they had decided to take her in, and Felicia had moved into their house the next day.

It was now time to show Felicia what she had actually been chosen for.

_______________________

Mark stepped backward and contemplated their handiwork for a moment; he smiled with satisfaction. Lovingly patting his wifeТs rounded bottom, he said:

LetТs bring our lovely new maid in here, darling

Laura smiled back at him and crossed the garage to the kitchen door. From the kitchen, she called to Felicia:

Felicia, Mark needs you in the garage. Please come down.

Laura heard the light footsteps of the maid coming down the staircase, and retreated towards the garage, leaving the kitchen door open. A few seconds later, Felicia appeared in the garage, her low cut sundress swirling about her slim legs in a very enticing way. At the sight of her cleavage, revealed by the unbuttoned top of the dress, MarkТs cock grew hard. The little bitch was certainly exciting, in a rather sweet, innocent way

Felicia entered the garage with a wide smile on her face, as usual, but it faded when she noticed the lust in MarkТs eyes, and even farther when she heard the door close behind her. Swiftly and very expertly, Mark and Laura placed a looped rope around FeliciaТs right hand. Felicia let out a cry of surprise. Before she could recover, they looped another rope around her other wrist, and roughly pulled her hands behind her back.

What is going on? What are you doing? she asked in a disbelieving voice, while struggling to free herself. Mark and Laura pulled the girlТs arms behind her and upwards, and her shoulders began to ache. The couple pushed her backwards, and her arms were tied to the wall of the garage.

Turn me loose! Felicia struggled, but the more she jerked against her bonds the more pain she felt in her upper arms and shoulder joints. She kicked her feet in anger, glaring at Mark and Laura.

The pair stepped back, looking at the au pair girl twisting in the ropes, and smiled viciously. She was now frightened by the look in their eyes: a complete, undisguised, sadistic glare

LetТs remove her panties Mark suggested. LetТs have a look at the bitchТs cunt. How hairy do you think she is, Laura?

WeТre about to find out, replied Laura stepping towards the girl.

Please, donТt Felicia pleaded in a feeble voice.

Listen, slut! Laura snapped. YouТd better shut up for now. WeТre going to have some fun with you, like it or not! Just be quiet. Felicia caught sight of MarkТs cock through his jeans: it was obviously hard and standing up. Felicia started to panic.

Please untie me DonТt touch me, please

First weТll look at your Spanish pussy, bitch. Mark said in a cold voice, while stroking his throbbing cock through his pants. Go ahead, Laura, show us what she wants to hide

The wicked couple approached Felicia, and she struggled trying to prevent them from grabbing her feet. But Mark and Laura were too fast and too strong for her. They rapidly looped ropes about her ankles and then pulled her feet apart as wide as they would go. The ropes on her ankles were secured to the garage wall and Felicia found herself with the back of her legs pinned against the cold wall. She was so humiliated that tears were in her eyes.

Mark said: Lift her dress, letТs see her panties

Oh God Please! Felicia began sobbing softly while Laura grabbed the hem of her dress, lifting it up slowly, revealing her long tanned thighs. FeliciaТs sexy body shook as tears streamed from her beautiful green eyes. She felt the hot flush of shame come over her cheeks, and she turned her head to the side, as if trying to hide her shame from her employersТ eyes. Laura pulled up the dress higher, exposing the white panties.

At that precise moment, a strange thought crossed her mind. She wished she had worn another pair, not the tiny, flimsy lace bikini one that hugged her ass so tightly. The shadow of her cunt hair was clearly visible, shaped in a lovely triangle, through the thin fabric. The crotch was pulled tight, and her blond pubic hair curled from the edges of it.

Look how lucky we are, darling! Laura gasped. We got ourselves a real blond!

Mark was more excited now.

LetТs take the dress off. I want to see her naked.

With pleasure, Laura answered, blowing a kiss to her husband.

Felicia sobbed. Please, donТt. DonТt take my dress off!

From his back pocket, Mark removed a folding knife. He clicked the blade open and sliced downward through the front of FeliciaТs dress, while Laura took hold of the right side of the material. He tore the dress all the way down the front, until it hung open, exposing FeliciaТs white bra and her creamy young tits. Felicia felt utterly naked in front of her employersТ eyes. Wave upon wave of shameful red flushed hotter than ever to her beautiful face.

Laura pulled the torn dress from the girlТs body. She stepped back with Mark, both of them admiring the bound beauty, barely covered by a pair of panties and bra. Their eyes glowed with excitement.

Felicia glanced at the couple and through the blur of her tears she could not help but notice MarkТs hard cock, straining against the front of his pants, and the red on LauraТs cheeks. Amazingly enough, a burning sensation went through her. Her cunt, she realized, was getting wet!

SheТs even prettier than I thought, Laura commented admiringly in a low voice.

You mean that sheТs perfect Mark corrected, looking at the almost naked body tied in front of him. Mark had unzipped his pants, and was slowly and absentmindedly stroking his fat dick.

Felicia wanted to scream, to get free. She twisted and turned, not knowing that her futile attempts to escape turned Mark and Laura on and made them even more excited. Laura slid a hand under her mini-skirt and started playing with her slit, which was dripping wet. As usual, she wore no panties, and her clitoris was rock hard and covered with her own juice.

Mark approached the girl, and Felicia felt him running his strong hand over her creamy tits. She shivered as he squeezed one, then the other, firm globe. Laura had stepped to her side, and Felicia felt her soft hand crawling along her flat stomach, slowly finding its way between her legs, moving back and forth. Felicia felt her cunt twitching, sucking inward as LauraТs fingers rubbed the growing wetness.

Mark and Laura looked at each other silently. Mark winked and Laura blew him a silent kiss. They started working feverishly on FeliciaТs bra and panties, finally cutting off the flimsy garments before dropping the pieces to the floor.

Felicia felt even more ashamed as she became naked in front of her employersТ eyes. Her creamy globes strained out, nipples hard and pointing up.

She whimpered when Laura began to caress her naked tits. She had never been touched this way by another woman, and she felt a strange mix of feelings, where humiliation, anger and excitation were deeply intertwined. LauraТs manicured fingers were massaging and squeezing FeliciaТs white flesh. A sharp pain ran through her chest when her right nipple got pinched and twisted. Felicia felt some wet heat on the other nipple, and she turned to look down. Mark was sucking vigorously at her left tit, his tongue swirling as his lips pulled at the hard pink nipple.

Following MarkТs cue, Laura took FeliciaТs right nipple in her mouth. Both perverts could feel the girlТs nipples begin to throb and getting harder and longer in their sucking mouths. Felicia felt the hardness of MarkТs cock pressing against her left thigh, throbbing and dripping, leaving a wet spot of pre come near the hip.

Please, please, Felicia begged. DonТt do this to me itТs not right!

She felt hands on her naked ass cheeks, hands that probed and squeezed their softness. At the same time, Mark and Laura were still sucking at FeliciaТs tits, using their teeth now, biting hard on the rock hard nipples, making the poor girl cry out in pain. Mark began to pinch the smooth cheeks of her ass brutally, and then slapped her left ass cheek repeatedly. Felicia screamed under the unexpected pain, and jerked in her bonds. Laura pulled at the blonde pubic hair of her cunt, sending a searing pain through her crotch. She twisted and wiggled, but the ropes held her secure in the obscene spread-eagled position.

Mark and Laura pulled back. Felicia watched them kiss each other in a passionate way. Mark inserted his thigh in between LauraТs legs and started rubbing LauraТs pussy, while his hands had taken a firm grip on her ass. Laura was pressing hard on the back of his neck, keeping his mouth on hers, and pressing her boobs on her husbandТs chest.

After a while, they disengaged, and Mark said to his wife:

Go get the papers of the little bitch, darling, while I explain to her a few things she needs to know

Laura gave a last kiss to Mark and turned away, stepping out of the garage elegantly, under MarkТs constant gaze. When she disappeared in the kitchen, Mark turned his attention towards Felicia, still naked and panting on the garage wall. He came closer to her, and cupped her slit in his right hand.

Now, listen carefully, little slut. Laura is currently going through your things in your room; sheТll find your passport, your money, your cell phone, and will bring them back to me. You will not see them again. From now on, youТre ours and weТll do with you as we please.

Felicia was looking at Mark with bulging eyes; she could not believe the word she had just heard. Was she a prisoner in this house?

As youТve noticed, we rarely leave the house at the same time. And when this will happen, youТll be locked down You havenТt seen all the features of the house yet. Some of them you will find interesting, believe me Now, you need to listen to me very clearly, because I hate having to repeat myself. From this moment onwards, your life is going to be ruled by us in every aspect. I said Сevery aspectТ, without any exception. You will do exactly what youТre told, and you will do only that, no more no less. You will not take any kind of initiative whatsoever. You are going to be used hard for our own pleasure. Who knows, maybe you will like it too Apparently, your cunt is quite wet right now

FeliciaТs mind had some trouble processing the information. Was she going to be used as some kind of sex slave? Could this really happen in the real world? Could this really happen to her?

Her reverie was brutally interrupted by the slap Mark landed on her left cheek. Her head got pushed towards the right, and the pain immediately brought tears in her eyes. Mark grabbed her chin in his hand and made her look at him directly in the eyes. She could barely see his features through the tears, but she easily sensed the tension and the anger in his look.

I said, listen carefully. This is not a dream. This is your life from now on Do you understand?

Felicia didnТt know how to answer the question. This was too much for her. Mark let go her chin and pinched her left nipple hard.

For the last time, do you understand, bitch?

FeliciaТs mouth twisted in pain. Her nipple was burning horribly, and she had to make a Herculean effort to speak in an intelligible voice.

Yes, I understand, Mark Please, donТt hurt me more, I beg you. IТll do whatever you want of me

Mark released the pressure on the nipple and smiled. Ok, thatТs better. YouТd better be a good girl, or you will bear the consequences, trust me

Felicia heard footsteps on the tile floor of the kitchen. Laura stepped into the garage a few seconds later, carrying a few items in her hand. She was smiling broadly to her husband, and winked at Felicia while passing in front of her. She handed the things to Mark.

Phone, passport, money purse, diary ThatТs all I found. WeТll go through the rest of her things later, when we have more time; I didnТt want to keep you waiting too long, darling

Mark browsed through the diary rapidly, and stopped suddenly. He smiled and pointed a page to Laura.

Look at this! Apparently the bitch finds us attractive. Is this not interesting?

Laura read the two paragraphs and then turned towards Felicia, who was now trying to disappear into the wall, completely overcome by shame. Laura walked towards her, grabbed her hair and pulled back on it, forcing FeliciaТs face upwards. She looked at the Spanish girl with fierce eyes, and then kissed her voraciously. She pushed her tongue deep into FeliciaТs mouth, squeezed her lips with her own, foraged into her throat, still maintaining a heavy pull on the girlТs hair. With her free right hand, she slapped FeliciaТs pussy hard, right on the slit. The sound echoed in the garage, and Felicia gasped in pain, breaking free from the vicious embrace.

IТm going to turn you into a perfect little lesbian, my dear slut! IТll teach you how to please me. Under my guidance, you will become a perfect whore slave

Laura stepped back and squatted down. She looked up between FeliciaТs spread legs, gazing at her obscenely exposed pussy. You obviously have all the required assets for the job, darling! Laura punctuated her statement with another slap on FeliciaТs slit, which sent another wave of short pain into the young girlТs groin.

Mark, still stroking his hard dick, approached his wife and squatted next to her. Both were looking at the pink lips of FeliciaТs cunt slightly opened like two delicate petals fresh with morning dew, covered with silky, golden pussy hair. FeliciaТs swollen clit was peeking out from under its protective hood. Mark couldnТt resist and slipped his hand to the beautiful young pussy, cupping it and sliding one finger into the wet opening of her vagina.

Felicia shook, her hips jerking back.

DonТt do that, please Let me go, I beg you!

Sorry, darling, Mark explained. You can beg all you want but leaving is not an option. YouТre here to stay, and to do as youТre told

Mark started to plunge his finger in and out of FeliciaТs cunt, and to her horror, she was becoming wet. She tried to will her cunt to stop, but the more MarkТs finger thrust into her, the wetter she became.

FeliciaТs sexual experience could not be described as extensive yet, due to her young age and rather strict upbringing, but there was a tingle in her pussy that she had never felt before when having sex with her boyfriends. Being tied up and under the control of this perverse but attractive couple induced new unbelievable sensations. She thought that if Mark kept fingering her, she would come

Mark pulled his finger out, coated with FeliciaТs cunt juice and put it in his mouth to taste the Spanish girlТs vaginal secretions.

Hmm SheТs tasty too! he commented with a large smile. You should try it, darling

Following her husbandТs advice, Laura shoved a pair of fingers into FeliciaТs cunt a few times before bringing them under her nose and into her mouth.

You are right, Mark The little slut is tasty, better than honey. Laura said approvingly. They were now taking turns finger fucking the young and helpless girl, whose thighs were getting slippery with her pussy juice.

Felicia felt so ashamed by her uncontrollable response to the coupleТs treatment, and her beautiful face turned red as she heard Mark and Laura comment on how tasty her vagina was. She could not resist looking down her naked body, watching them. MarkТs cock was rock hard, pre come seeping from the piss hole; LauraТs nipples were fully erect and clearly visible through her T-shirt. A shiver rippled up and down FeliciaТs spine, and her cunt seemed to steam.

She could hear them breathing faster, and she began to hope that it would end soon. Maybe, she thought, Mark would come fast; maybe he would fuck his wife, and then untie her. Maybe this was only a sexual game, meant to scare her, and nothing else.

Felicia began to whimper softly. She could feel her clit swelling into throbbing hardness. She choked back a squeal, not wanting to come, not wanting these two depraved individuals to know that she was about to have an orgasm from what they were doing to her. Nevertheless, she couldnТt prevent it. Her hips were thrusting now, moving back and forth, grinding within the limits of the ropes.

Felicia clamped her mouth tight, biting her bottom lip between her teeth. She came.

Look at that! Mark exclaimed. The bitch is coming I canТt believe it

He plunged his finger in and out of FeliciaТs cunt faster and deeper, feeling it suck and squeeze. Her clit was throbbing visibly, and Felicia was crying with shame, yet with pleasure too. Her cunt had betrayed her, and there was nothing she could do about it. Her hips rocked back and forth on MarkТs finger.

Laura joined in and started pinching FeliciaТs nipples, using both hands at the same time. She took the erect buttons between her fingers, squeezed them hard, before twisting them in opposite directions. Still keeping her iron grip on FeliciaТs nipples, she pulled on them elongating them as far as they would go, moving them in wide circles, stretching FeliciaТs boobs to the limit. FeliciaТs gasped in pain: her mouth opened wide, and a silent scream was released while the wave of pain stormed down her spine.

Paradoxically, FeliciaТs orgasm increased and she finally cried out as she came a second time, even more violently than the first. Lost in a cloud of pain and pleasure, Felicia wondered what was happening to her. She had never come like this before!

Mark suddenly took his fingers out of FeliciaТs pussy, and circled her until he stood in her back, right next to the wall. He grabbed her hips and pushed his throbbing erection to the girlТs asshole. He paused for a second there, and then violently thrust forward, impaling Felicia with his rod. He went deep inside her, forcing past the sphincters, until his balls were slapping against the creamy ass cheeks. He pumped her hard for a couple of minutes before his hot bubbling come juice spurted into the distended rectum. It seemed to scald her entrails, and her orgasm increased once more. She shot her hips backwards, crying out again in unwanted ecstasy.

Mark grunted, and slapped FeliciaТs right ass cheek with his bare hand, leaving a perfectly defined imprint of his fingers on the white skin. The burning pain got lost in the ocean of emotions that swarmed over Felicia. She was panting now, trying to recover.

She barely felt Mark retreating from her ass. Through blurred eyes, she vaguely saw him coming in front of her, and hugging his wife lovingly. Laura spread her feet to let MarkТs hand slip in between her thighs, and the duo kissed passionately in front of the tied up maid. Mark fingered Laura for a while, pushing three fingers into her slit, burying them deeper and deeper. Laura started wiggling her hips, flexing her knees so that she could lower herself on MarkТs fingers. She slipped both her hands under her T-shirt and started playing with her two heavy tits, pinching the nipples softly. Eyes closed, mouth opened, she was abandoning herself to the coming orgasm. When it finally struck her, she yelled her pleasure, shivered for a few seconds, and then hugged Mark, burying her face into his neck.

Felicia, still tied to the wall, looked at the two lovers. She felt drying come juice still running down the crack of her ass, and her cunt seemed to keep on pulsating. This had been a new experience for her, something that she would never forget. As a matter of fact, she had rarely come while having sex with her partners; most of the time, she could only come while masturbating, and even at that, orgasm was no guarantee. She was completely confused. Her mind was in turmoil. She ought to be mad at her employers, but she seemed still in a state of shock and didnТt know what to do or say. The ropes were cutting into her wrists, making her hands numb. Her brain seemed to be numb as well.

In a trembling voice that she barely recognized, she said: Untie me now, please.

Laura looked at her with a hard stare.

Listen bitch! From now on, you will only speak when spoken to. And as far as being untied is concerned, you are in for a surprise. As of now, you will remain restrained constantly, as a slave should be, of course. Look, we have a little present for you, Felicia

Mark went to a metal closet in the corner of the garage. He unlocked the door, foraged among the shelves for an instant, and came back to his wife with a set of irons and chains dangling from his right hand.

He explained: This will be your new maidТs outfit, slut. WeТre going to put it on you now. As you can see, everything is padlocked, and we have the only keys. Laura has one set, and I keep the second one. Once locked onto you, only we can remove this set of irons. Do you understand?

Felicia looked at the chains with incredulous eyes. What were they talking about? Was she supposed to be enchained constantly, like a slave in the Old South? This was not possible; it had to be a bad dream

Laura took the set from MarkТs hands and approached Felicia. She opened a large metal collar, the two halves hinged in the middle. Mark came forward to help with FeliciaТs hair, making sure that it was not trapped between the collar and the neck. Laura closed the collar around FeliciaТs neck, and the Spanish girl shivered at the cold contact on her hot skin. A small padlock kept the collar in place.

From the collar a long chain dangled down, in between FeliciaТs breasts, reaching almost to the floor. Mark pulled the chain up and threw it over FeliciaТs left shoulder, while Laura turned the collar around. The cold contact was now running down FeliciaТs back, between her shoulder blades and ass cheeks. She felt the ropes around her wrists loosening up, to be immediately replaced by metal handcuffs. The handcuffs were fastened to the middle of the chain, so that FeliciaТs arms were bent at the elbow, her hands pinioned at kidney height.

Laura and Mark released her ankles from the rope loops. And for a second Felicia felt the burning sensation where the ropes had scratched her delicate skin. Another pair of metal cuffs were slipped around her ankles, and locked in place. A short length of chain separated the cuffs, allowing her to walk with small steps only. Laura fastened the middle of the short chain to the end of the long vertical chain.

Mark slapped FeliciaТs bottom: Move forward, bitch!

Completely naked, wearing only a large metal collar and chains keeping her hands tied in her back and her feet restrained, Felicia took a small step towards Laura. She felt absolutely helpless, absolutely shameful, utterly lost in a new world that she could not start to understand. But her pussy was still pulsating in an unexplainable way

Mark walked to Laura and took her by the waist. They both contemplated Felicia for an instant.

What do you think of our new slave, darling? Mark asked in a cheerful voice.

I think she will be absolutely perfect And training her will be so much fun

Felicia barely registered the words. Slave? Training?

Obviously, the bad dream was only beginning

Another day in FeliciaТs new life: a life that was unthinkable twenty-four hours earlier; a life that still seems impossible to contemplate; a life that goes beyond all bad dreams. The life of a slave for Mark and Laura!

What had started as a comfortable au pair position with a rather attractive couple in a very nice estate in Florida, suddenly turned into a complete nightmare of forced sex, humiliation and pain under the rule of a pair of perverts.

The day before, right after the humiliating garage episode, Felicia, still in chains from head to toe, had been introduced to her new living quarters. Long gone was the nice little bedroom she had lived in for two weeks, with the French windows opening over the swimming pool, the private bathroom and the many closets. Mark and Laura had taken her to MarkТs library, a huge room the walls of which were lined with books from floor to ceiling. In the center of the room, a low set table and a few comfortable armchairs allowed company to enjoy a good cigar while reading a book chosen among the thousands collected along the years.

Felicia had visited the library many times, sometimes borrowing a book from Mark, but she had never noticed the special feature that was hidden in the far corner of the room, at shoulder height: an electronic buzzer, large as a silver dollar, on the far side of the bookshelf. Laura pressed on it, and the precious parquet floor started moving, a whole portion opening up. It stopped when it reached a vertical position, and Felicia, who had been kept in the center of the room by Mark, could see the stairs leading down, into what appeared to be a sort of basement.

Laura went down a few steps first, and turned on the light. She disappeared down the flight of steps.

Go down the stairs, bitch, Mark ordered Felicia, pushing her by the elbow. Very carefully because of her restraints, Felicia started down into the secret room. The room was quite large, way larger than what the girl had expected. In fact it was probably running under most of the surface of the house.

The room was mostly bare, with only a few metal cabinets visible along one wall. One end of the room was not visible, because of a drawn curtain. In the visible portion of the room, along the south wall, stood a metal cage, visibly bolted to the concrete floor. The cage was a simple cube with a 4-foot side and strong vertical bars. The front panel of it, which was obviously the door, bore a little black shiny box on the left side, which seemed to be some kind of electronic lock.

Through the bars, inside the cage, Felicia could see a metal pail and a little metal bowl stuck in a corner, next to each other. A black blanket, of crude wool, was folded on the floor.

Mark explained: Welcome to your new home, Felicia. This cage is yours, all yours. From now on, this is where you will be kept when we do not require your services, and this is where you will sleep at night. How does this sound?

Felicia looked at the cage with unbelieving eyes. Living in a cage? Like a zoo animal? They must be kidding! Laura interrupted her train of thought, and added.

If you turn around, you will notice that the camera here is constantly filming the cage. She pointed to a camera mounted on the wall opposite the cage, and facing towards it. The image is relayed to different monitors upstairs, mostly in our bedroom, so that we can check on you easily, day and night. You will see very soon how convenient this is, my little slut

From his pocket, Mark produced a little remote control and showed it to Felicia. And this is the key to your cage, if I may say so. As you can see, lock picking is not an option for you; the lock is electronic. Only this remote control will open it I guess itТs time for you to get acquainted with your new palace Get in the cage, bitch!

Laura opened the front panel widely, and with her hand on the top of FeliciaТs head, made sure that the girl would bend enough to fit into the cage. Felicia crouched and stepped in, clumsily, her moves still uncertain with the leg and wrist irons locked on. She was so shocked that she could not even utter a word. While she was turning around inside the cage to face her captors, Felicia heard a loud click. The door had been closed shut. With her hands cuffed in her back, she tried to shoulder the door; it did not move at all, and all she achieved was to hurt herself.

She started crying and yelled at Mark and Laura: Let me out, please, let me out What are you going to do to me?

Laura answered the question: We are going to leave you in here for a little while, time for us to get organized upstairs. WeТll be back in about an hour, and we will explain to you exactly whatТs going to happen to you from now on DonТt be impatient, darling

Felicia kept her eyes on Mark and Laura while they disappeared up the staircase, back into the library. The panel clicked shut, and the light dimmed a little; a faint glow still illuminated the room, and Felicia noted the little red light blinking on top of the camera lens, probably indicating that the image was on. Unable to stand up in the cage, Felicia fought to find a suitable position. Kneeling down was not bearable for more than a few minutes. Lying down in a fetal position was feasible but quite uncomfortable because of the bars from the ground panel. Finally, she settled for a sitting position, her back resting on the back panel, her legs spread in front of her. With difficulty, she managed to slip the blanket under her ass, making a sort of cushion to soften the hardness of the horizontal bars.

In total despair, she realized that she was completely trapped and watched.

________________________

A little more than an hour later, Mark and Laura came back to the basement. They each carried a glass of wine, and they seemed quite pleased with themselves. Mark disappeared for an instant behind the curtain, and came back with two folding stools that he set in front of the cage. He and his wife sat down and looked at the girl with amused eyes

Mark took a sip of wine before talking to Felicia: Ma petite cherie my little darling, there are many things we need to explain to you. YouТd better listen carefully, because we wonТt repeat them twice. Burn this into your sweet slaveТs brain, and never forget anything

Mark paused and Laura intervened. She crossed her beautiful legs; her manicured toes fiddled with her shoe slipping the heel off and on. In spite of the awkward situation, Felicia could not prevent herself from finding the woman extremely sexy.

HereТs the deal, Felicia. As of now, you are no longer free. Very simply, and in a few words, you belong to us; you are our property. You no more have rights, nor personal possessions, nor choices. Your life will be governed by the rules that we impose onto you. There will be many, but they all come down to two basic rules that are easy to remember

Mark followed suit: Rule number one: you will obey all orders and instructions given to you immediately. You will do it without hesitation and without question. Mark turned towards his wife, smiling broadly.

Laura continued the expose: Rule number two: you will never undertake any action of your own accord without asking permission first. And I mean NOTHING. You wonТt speak, you wonТt move, you wonТt pee you may breathe, but that is the only exception to the rule Laura sneered at Felicia and giggled towards Mark. Laura was certainly enjoying this part the introduction to the rules of the game

Do you understand clearly the two golden rules, Felicia? Mark asked the confused caged girl. FeliciaТs face fell…her blurry eyes to the floor she shook her head in disbelief. Her mind reeled at the complexity of her situation. Truly, she was captured. Truly she could not escape. In some insane way, the rules made sense she no longer trusted her own sense of reality. Alone and lost in unfamiliar territoryshe began to slip into the insanity of her situation

Mark stood and approached the cage. He reached inside and took FeliciaТs down turned face. A whole new world is about to open for you be proud that you are one of the privileged few to whom it is presented. Give yourself over to the inescapable condition that you are in concentrate very hard on the measures you must go to in order to provide proper service to your owners.

Grabbing and pulling on FeliciaТs hair, Mark said: Look at me We expect many services from our slave: domestic, personal and sexual of course. YouТre going to be busy here, trust us And youТre going to show us what youТre capable of, right away, slut!

Mark let go FeliciaТs hair and Laura punched in the code on her small remote control. The cage door opened with a small click, and Mark pushed it opened all the way so that Felicia could go out. DonТt stand up Remain on your knees! ordered Mark.

Felicia struggled to her knees, and half fell on her right side. She connected hard with the bars, and let out a short gasp. Not being able to use her arms, still cuffed in the small of her back, she twisted and finally got out of the cage, on her knees, crawling forward in small paces given the short length of chain joining her leg irons.

Once again, Mark took hold of her long hair and twisted it around his fingers, taking a firm and controlling grip. On the stool, Laura uncrossed her legs and stood up. She slowly removed her T-shirt and slid her mini-skirt down to the floor; she carelessly pushed the garments aside with her right foot. Felicia could only admire the resplendent body in front of her: large and heavy breasts, still holding quite well in spite of their mass, nicely rounded hips connected to muscular thighs and thin legs. Laura sat down again, this time keeping her legs wide open, her pussy well visible in the fork of her thighs.

With his left hand, Mark opened the padlock keeping FeliciaТs hands tied. This time, you will be allowed to use your hands to please your new Mistress. Make good use of them, slave!

But I have never

Before she could finish her sentence, Felicia felt a sharp pain and tears filled her eyes immediately. Laura had slapped her on the left cheek, a strong and precisely aimed slap that left a nice imprint on the skin.

Did we ask you to talk? I donТt think so YouТd better start concentrating on the rules weТve given you. You do not talk unless authorized to Is that clear, bitch? Without a word, Felicia nodded, unable to look at Laura in the eyes. She still had difficulty coping with the reality of her new condition.

Laura reached forward and wiped the tears off FeliciaТs face, almost tenderly. Then she pulled the girlТs mouth towards a fat, plum colored nipple. Suck your Mistress, little slave Only a woman knows how to properly pay homage to tits.

Still uncertain about what to do, Felicia used both hands to caress the large twin globes of her Mistress as she sucked on each nipple in turn. She instinctively seemed to know what to do and found herself relishing in her new found ability to give pleasure to another woman.

Bite my tits hard, Felicia. Mark them with your teeth!

With her own excitement growing, the young girl needed no second bidding and began biting into the soft flesh. At first she used little nips but, as her confidence grew, she began biting into mouthfuls of firm flesh, thrilled by the sound of her Mistress groaning above her.

She never heard the swish of the cane.

For a few seconds she had forgotten about Mark, who had discreetly taken a thin bamboo cane from one of the metal cabinets. When it cracked across her ass cheeks, the shock forced her head back. Laura grabbed her by the hair and pulled her back, this time bringing their mouths together. FeliciaТs mouth was invaded by the demanding tongue and she greedily sucked on it as the next three lashes blasted against her fleshy bottom. Felicia could not understand her own sexual appetite for the woman who was in fact raping her, forcing her to perform something that she had considered so faras impossible and against nature.

Laura pulled away, breathing quickly. Give pleasure to your Mistress, whore, while Master canes you. Show us how good a slave you can be

The hand yanked her hair again, and a nipple was pushed into her mouth. She opened it as wide as possible and used her fingers to fill it with as much breast flesh as she could while the cane stung her, she bit into it as hard as she could.

She attacked both mounds of flesh with vigor, intent on making her Mistress moan as loud as she could, biting her each time the cane landed. When it seared across the back of her thighs, its stinging, burning cut made her moan almost as loud.

In an unexpected flash of perverse creativity, she pushed the two mounds together and was able to force both nipples into her mouth at the same time.

Yes, slave Bite them both. You are making me want to come!

She suddenly felt MarkТs fingers teasing her tight hole before dipping them into her streaming slit. She pushed back against them, trying to make them slide into her but jumped when his hand slapped her hard. She realized he wanted her to keep still and in a short instant of pure insanity she hoped he was going to fuck her as he had done in the garage.

Pulling again on FeliciaТs hair, Laura pulled her mouth away from her boobs and directed it downwards towards her pussy.

“Eat your Mistress cunt, slave. And do it good!”

To her complete surprise, Felicia felt a tremendous thrill run through her as her mouth trailed through the precisely trimmed pubic hair of her Mistress. When she felt dampness, she opened her mouth and gently kissed the soft lips, using the tip of her tongue to pry the closed slit open. Now, for the first time ever, she tasted a womanТs juice other than her own and she found it truly delicious.

She felt Laura begin to squirm against her mouth and watched as a finger sought out the hidden bud that quickly grew to an amazing size. She sucked it into her mouth, careful not to be too rough or catch it with her teeth. Just as she was massaging it with her tongue, she felt MarkТs fingers leave her and the cane cracked across her behind again, making her moan into the wet pink slit.

Unable to recognize herself as the little lesbian whore she had suddenly become, Felicia began rubbing the hard stalk with her fingers and pushing her tongue in and out of the wet depths as fast as she could. Acting now on pure instinct, she moved the other hand so that her fingers could tease the smaller, tighter hole.

Fuck my ass! Chew on my clit! Get ready to drink my juice, slave!

Her finger slipped easily into the tight hole so she pushed two more in and began frigging her MistressТs ass hole. She sucked the hard clitoris between her lips and began to bite it.

She felt Mark move close behind her then felt his hard cock sliding between her thighs. He reached down and guided the swollen knob to the wet entrance of her slit, then rammed it all the way into her.

There was an urgent edge in his voice when he spoke: Let me see you suck your gorgeous tits, darling. Bite your own nipples!

Felicia wished she could look up and watch Laura biting her own nipples, but all her attention had to be focused on making her come. Her fingers sank into the hot tight channel all the way up to her knuckles. She rolled the hard clitoris across her teeth with her tongue, the pressure dictated by the force of her masterТs cock as he kept ramming into her.

Through the loud moaning, she heard the panting voice of Laura. Tell me when to come, Mark!

As he fucked her with growing urgency, his hands began slapping her; stinging blows on thighs, belly and breasts. He found her nipples and sank his nails into them, the sudden pain making her groan into the cunt that was now almost swamping her mouth. She fought to hold back her own crisis while trying to make her Mistress come.

Come on, Laura. Bite them harder. ThatТs it. Ah yes, wait wait now come! Yes, come with me now.

MarkТs fingers dug into her breasts as she felt his dick start pumping into her. As her own climax erupted, her mouth was rammed hard up against LauraТs slit as an amazing amount of juice flooded over her lips, making her swallow as fast as she could. She felt his full weight as he collapsed onto her back, pushing her forward and making her lift her head up. Laura promptly pulled her close and allowed her to use her breasts for a cushion. She noticed with pride that they were covered with bite marks.

They remained locked together for a little while as they slowly recovered. When Mark finally spoke, his voice was casual.

Did you come good, Felicia?

Sandwiched between Laura and Mark, feeling deliriously satisfied, Felicia completely missed the trap that was laid in front of her and she stepped right into it.

Oh yes That was unbelievable absolutely fantastic!

Mark withdrew from Felicia and looked at Laura with a sadistic stare, his dick going limp between his legs. In a playful voice, he commented: Oh, is that so? Let me ask you a simple question, Felicia. Who gave you permission to come?

It took Felicia several seconds to understand the question and its implications. Permission to come? Why would she need to ask permission to come? Then the answer hit her like lightning: rule number two! Never undertake any action without asking permission first. Looking at her, Laura could almost see the wheels turning in her brain, while she was trying to figure out the meaning of the question. She took great pleasure in seeing the fright in her eyes when she realized she had made a mistake.

Obviously you already forgot one of the rules we explained to you just a few minutes ago. ThatТs ok; it will happen again But you must understand that under these rules, any mistake will earn you a punishment. And the more mistakes you make, the heavier the punishment will be. Laura paused for a short instant, and then asked Mark.

Darling, what kind of punishment seems appropriate for such an obvious lapse of memory?

While Mark was standing up behind Felicia, the poor girl, absolutely terrified, burst in tears and pleaded mercy. Please, donТt hurt me I beg you I will be more careful, but do not punish me please

Mark grabbed her arms and manacled her wrists again in her back, as they had been before. Felicia was so frightened that she did not even resist. One thing we hate, is a whining slave. Of course, we know how to cope with that little inconvenience

Mark walked to the first metal cabinet; digging around inside of it, he found what he was looking for and came back to his wife and the shivering girl. He handed out something to Laura, and showed Felicia what he had kept in his hand.

This is the ultimate remedy for a whining slave. IТm sure you will soon get used to it The gag consisted of a broad leather mouth cover with an adjustable strap. In the center of it was a semi-solid latex plug shaped like a fat, stubby prick. A hole through the center guaranteed an uninterrupted air supply.

Open your legs wider Mark ordered. Felicia complied without thinking, moving her knees apart as far as they could go with the ankles chained. She watched Mark slip the plug between her very wet pussy lips, twisting it to make sure it was liberally coated with her copious juice. When he was satisfied, he held it up to her mouth. Felicia could smell the familiar fragrance of herself.

Keep your mouth open, bitch! Felicia felt the wet prick-shaped plug touch her lips and found that she had to stretch her jaws open in order to suck its fat girth into her mouth. She gripped it between her teeth as Mark buckled the gag tightly behind her head.

Now, Laura said, Show us your tits. WeТve got something for them. From her lap, she pulled a pair of large alligator clamps with sharp teeth. To each clamp was attached a metal ball covered with spikes, dangling at the end of a 5 inch chain. Carefully pinching FeliciaТs right nipple between her fingers, Laura started playing wit it, rolling and twisting it. A few instants later, the pink nipple was once again erect. Laura opened the vicious jaws of the clamp and set them precisely on the throbbing button. When she removed her fingers, letting the full pressure crush the tender flesh, Felicia let go a silent scream of pain, muffled by the gag. Her whole body jerked under the searing pain. Laura applied the same treatment to the other nipple, causing tears to run down FeliciaТs cheeks. Not only were her nipples crushed by the clamps, but the tits themselves were stretched downwards by the large metal balls.

Stand up now, bitch, Laura ordered. Mark helped Felicia from behind and she carefully stood up. Each movement of her torso made the weights swing and the young girl let out a groan of pain. With each swing, the balls rammed into her belly, their spikes almost piercing the delicate skin. She was obviously in terrible pain and was crying constantly. The pleasure she had experienced just a while ago was a distant memory now. Pain was the only thing she could concentrate on now, and it was driving her mad

We want to make sure that you wonТt forget again such an important rule, and consequently, your punishment is not over yet. Mark disappeared again behind the curtain, and came back with a device that looked like an old metal seat from a tractor. It was stainless steel, formed in a shape made to take a human butt. However, from the middle of it a thick, hard rubber dildo pointed up. It was at least 9 inches long and 2 inches thick. Immediately behind it, was a stainless steel rod about 1 inch thick. At the tip of the rod was a metal ball about one inch in diameter. There were three more balls below the first, each getting larger, the bottom one being two and a half inches in diameter. The whole seat rested on a metal box with dial controls along the front.

Felicia stared at the monstrous seat in utter disbelief and cried even more. “Time to take a seat, cunt! Mark said happily. He helped the young girl walk slowly to the device. When she got by it, Mark unfastened the leg irons, so that the girl could open her legs widely. The teenager stood over the stool and turned to face her owners. She slowly started lowering her butt down till the rubber dildo touched her cunt lips.

Go ahead, sit down! And donТt forget to keep your legs open, so that we can enjoy the show.

Wiggling slowly on the dildo Felicia started to press down. As the thick dildo began to spread her tight young cunt, grunting as she was stretched. Slowly the first inch of dildo worked into her until her small young ass came in contact with the first metal ball. She looked up pleadingly at her Masters but they just smiled at her. Sobbing, she started to press her asshole down on the sphere. Slowly it spread her.

“Agghhh!” she moaned as she got past the widest part of the ball that seemed to pop into her ass. She pushed down to the next ball. The dildo was feeling impossibly large in her tight cunt. She pushed further and the next ball stretched her asshole out. She cried out again in her gag as it finally slid into her ass. She was starting to feel dizzy with the pain but concentrated on keeping conscious.

Two more balls, slut! YouТll take them all in the ass, or we will whip you bloody Do you understand? Laura asked, grabbing the cane from MarkТs hand and brandishing it in front of the girlТs eyes.

Felicia started pushing down on the third ball, but with every downward movement, she felt like her ass was going to tear. She just couldnТt force herself further. She sat, half impaled, weeping deeply. Her tears were now making rivers down her cheeks, over the large leather mouthpiece, dripping on her tortured chest.

Mark stroked her hair: “Poor dear! Would you like some help?” The young girl looked pitifully at him, tears dripping off her chin and nodded weakly. Mark placed two strong hands on her shoulders and nodded to Laura.

“You know what to do, sweetheart!” Laura grabbed FeliciaТs ankles and pulled them from under the young teenager. Mark used no strength to push her down, but just held her upright. Felicia plunged down hard on the two invading dildos. The one in her cunt seemed like it was going to pierce her guts as the one in her ass ripped her anal ring while the largest ball pounded its way through. Even through her gag, the tortured girlТs squeal was high pitched, and it resounded through the room.

Mark held her upright for the entire time it took for her screams to subside. Her muffled pleas to be removed from the horrible device tearing into her were ignored. Laura took a strap and placed it across the lap of the suffering slave and pulled it tight. Mark reached between her dangling legs and turned the dials. He then flipped a switch on the box and a humming started. Felicia resumed her desperate squealing in a rhythmic chant.

Her Master went behind her and checked how deeply the torture machine was thrusting. On each outward pull, two balls were pulled from her ass only to be thrust back in, like an incessant piston of pain. The tear in the girlТs ass was now slowly dripping blood. Her screams and pleas were settling into a medium level series of horrendous grunts as the monstrous balls pushed in and out of her.

Oh, Laura added sardonically, I forgot to mention that this time, you do not have permission to come Mark burst out laughing.

Ten minutes of ass tearing like this, and you wonТt forget so easily next time, will you, cunt? Mark approached his wife and kissed her in front of Felicia. He slipped his right hand in between LauraТs thighs, and was pleased to notice how dripping wet his perverse partner was. Nothing like breaking a new slave to get her juices flowing And this was just the beginning

The alarm clock buzzed in the master bedroom. Mark extended his arm and turned it off. Even though he didnТt have to go to any office, he had always maintained a fairly strict work routine, only allowing a few exceptions after particularly busy nights, which had not been the case of yesterday.

Mark rolled on his side towards Laura, who was barely opening her eyes. As everyday, Mark found that his wife was magnificent in the early morning, even without any make-up, even with her hair unmade. He leant towards her and kissed her warmly. His right hand automatically moved to her tits, and he started fondling the two heavy globes, playing with the buttons that became hard immediately.

Still half-asleep, Laura began to moan softly and spread her legs to open the way to MarkТs agile fingers. Both of them always slept naked, and it was frequent for them to indulge into a quick fuck in the early morning.

Mark pushed the covers aside and knelt next to Laura. Slipping his right arm under her thigh, he used his left hand to spread open his wifeТs slit. Bending forward, he plunged onto the pussy he knew so well, and expertly ran his tongue in between the soft folds of her cunt, taking in the delicate aroma of his wifeТs intimate parts. He ate her pussy for a couple of minutes, making her wet and dripping. After many years of marriage, Mark was still amazed at how easy it was to make Laura wet

The tip of his tongue played with the clitoral hood; when the little love button grew erect, Mark started using his teeth, lightly biting it, sucking on it with his lips. LauraТs moans grew louder. Mark inserted his middle right finger in his wifeТs slit, making sure that it got copiously covered with her love juices. Still sucking at LauraТs pussy avidly, Mark slowly pushed his wet finger into her tight asshole. With his finger firmly in place, he began making slow circles inside her rectum, and Laura immediately responded with jerking her hips. She grabbed her husbandТs hair and pushed his hair more firmly against her crotch. Mark was happy to comply. He could feel his erection grow bigger and harder by the minute

________________________

Ten minutes later, Mark got off the bed, his dick still hard. LauraТs fingers were still playing softly with her cunt, now covered with the sperm load left by Mark. On her back, legs wide open, both her arms squeezing her boobs, she was offering a great show

Darling, we must go and check on the slave, Mark said, looking at his watch. Let me remind you that I have to be at the airport in less than two hours. IТm going to take a shower He disappeared in the adjoining bathroom, and soon Laura heard the water flowing in the shower.

Laura got up too, and stared at the little monitor that was set in the corner of the bedroom, at eyes level. On the screen, she saw Felicia in her cage in the secret basement that opened under the house library. She was on all fours, looking at the floor, turned towards the front panel of the cage, knees apart, ass in the air. Exactly as she had been ordered to be every morning while waiting for her owners to come and take her out of the cage.

Almost one hour ago, another alarm clock had woken the slave up. Upon hearing the clock ring, Felicia knew that she had to assume the position in which she was to wait for her release. She also knew that the camera was displaying her upstairs, and that her Masters were checking on her. She had only been their unwilling slave for a couple of weeks, but she had very rapidly understood that disobeying orders was not wise: the punishments were systematic and very harsh. The crisscrossed marks on her lower back and bottom, the bruises on her tits, were ample proof of that

Less than thirty minutes later, Felicia heard the trapdoor open, and footsteps coming down the stairs. She remained absolutely immobile, still staring at the ground in front of her, her long blond hair falling on both sides of her bowed head. With her peripheral vision, she caught sight of MarkТs shiny black shoes stopping in front of the cage, while LauraТs bare feet moved a little sideways.

The familiar buzz of the electronic lock sounded in the quiet basement, and the cage opened automatically. Mark finished opening the door, while Laura approached the cage.

Get out of there, slut! ordered Mark.

Yes, Master Felicia answered in a respectful voice. Still on all fours, the slave crawled outside of her cage and stopped at MarkТs feet. Without adding a word, she lowered her head and lightly kissed her MasterТs right shoe. She then turned towards Laura, and repeated the kiss on her MistressТs bare toes. Good morning Master Good morning Mistress Your slave is ready for you and will serve you in everything

As every morning, this sentence that she had to start her day with, made Felicia both sick and wet. Sick because of the intense humiliation it implied: describing ones self as a slave was not an easy thing to do willingly. In the past few days, Felicia had started to realize that she was no more than a slave in the hardest sense of the term. She now belonged to Mark and Laura, who could use and abuse her without any limits. She had been deprived of everything: no more choices, no more rights, no more personal possessions, and no more freedom. She had been reduced to being a plaything for her owners, a useful piece of furniture, a piece of meat for their exclusive and insane pleasure And she had found some kind of perverse and unexplainable pleasure in this degradation.

Many rules had been added to the list of rules that she had to respect strictly, since the first two rules described the first day of her enslavement. Each additional rule had taken her one more step down the food chain. As a slave, she was no longer allowed to refer to herself as a person. The use of personal pronouns such as I, me, etc was strictly prohibited. She had to describe herself as your slave in all circumstances, both in private and in public. Mark and Laura were now Master and Mistress respectively. Of course, the transition to the new grammar rules had been very painful, and the mistakes very numerous. But with the help of carefully chosen punishments, she had rapidly improved, and she was doing much better in this respect. Unless unduly stressed, she was now able to avoid stupid errors, and she was quite proud of it, even though she would not dare show any sort of pride. A slave was not allowed this kind of luxury, she had been told

Show yourself for inspection, cunt Laura ordered. Felicia silently rolled on her back and lay down on the concrete floor, shivering at the cold contact on her spine. As she had been ordered, she spread her legs as wide as she could, bent her knees and grabbed her ankles with her hands, keeping her soles on the floor. She opened her mouth wide and stared at the ceiling, in what her Masters had described as the inspection position. The object of the inspection was to make sure that the slave was wet, that her cunt was juicy enough to please her owners. They had explained to her that it was the slaveТs duty to remain constantly wet for its owners, and every morning she had to make a mental effort to get excited without touching herself.

Laura bent over her slave and slid a finger into the slaveТs cunt. The finger disappeared easily inside the well-lubricated slit. Laura smiled with satisfaction. She inserted a couple of fingers along the first one, and started fingering Felicia, pushing them deep inside her pussy. Felicia did her best to not move. After a little while, Laura squatted next to the slave, slid her fingers off its slit and brought them to its mouth. First, she smeared FeliciaТs cunt juice on her lips, making circles around her mouth. She then pushed them inside the gaping mouth, and Felicia started to lick them clean, feeling a humiliating pleasure at tasting her own cunt flavor.

While Felicia busied herself with licking her MistressТs fingers, Mark picked up the set of steel manacles that was lying on the floor next to the cage, out of reach of the girl when she was inside.

Stand up, slave Laura instructed. We donТt have much time this morning. Master has a plane to catch. Move your ass, bitch!

Felicia stood up, with her feet apart, her hands in the small of her back, her eyes looking at the ground. She was never allowed to look at her owners, unless ordered to, which did not happen often. In a few seconds, Mark put the restraints on his slave: leg irons, metal wrist cuffs, each pair linked by a short chain. This morning, they cuffed her hands in front of her body, rather than in her back. Laura affixed the leash to the metal collar that the slave wore day and night.

LetТs go upstairs, cunt. You are going to prepare MasterТs breakfast in a hurry Laura pulled on the leash and stepped towards the staircase. Felicia followed as fast as she could, limited in her moving ability by the leg irons. Mark followed the two women and closed the trapdoor behind them.

In the huge kitchen, Felicia went to work immediately, while her owners sat down at the large table. Mark was already fully dressed in a nice Armani suit, ready to fly to New York for a stock-exchange conference to which he was to deliver a speech later in the afternoon. Laura was loosely draped in a saffron colored silk kimono, which did not hide much of her delicious anatomy. Mark got hold of the newspaper and went directly to the business section, as he did everyday.

In the last few days, Felicia had learnt how to cook and serve meals while restrained. That required some concentration because the movements had to be thought of before hand, otherwise the chain would get caught up everywhere. This way, Mark and Laura had explained, the slave had to constantly think about what it was doing, and was reminded of its condition as an inferior being. This was also a difference between a slave and a paid maid

Felicia brought the plates with the sunny-side up eggs to her owners, along with coffees mugs and white bread toast. While Mark and Laura ate their breakfast, Felicia remained in between them and facing both of them, her feet as separated as the leg irons chain allowed, her hands spreading her pussy lips as wide as possible as a symbol of her servitude and inferiority. On the table, next to Laura, was the leather flogger that her owners used to slap her in case of a mistake.

Half an hour later, Mark took his car out of the garage and left for the airport, after kissing his wife. Take good care of the bitch, and have fun with her. IТll call you tonight, and IТll be back tomorrow early in the afternoon.

Mark gone, Laura went back to the kitchen where her slave was finishing the cleaning of the breakfast table and dishes. Now, little cunt, she said, weТre going to have some lesbian fun you and I. It is time for me to train you in the subtle art of serving a Mistress. YouТre mine and mine alone for more than 24 hours, and I am going to enjoy every minute of it, believe me.

Laura approached Felicia, unhooked the handcuffs and set them back on in the slaveТs back. She asked: Do you need to pee, slut?

Eyes still on the floor, Felicia answered in a soft voice. Yes, Mistress. Your slave needs to pee.

Very well, weТre going to take care of that. Follow me. Laura grabbed the leather handle of the leash and dragged the bound girl into the garden. In a far corner of the lawn, Mark had organized a little sandy area, surrounded by a low wooden fence with a narrow opening. Next to the opening, a sign said: SLAVE AREA.

The whole garden was very private, walled with large trees keeping the ground hidden from the neighbors. Laura ordered: Step in and do what you have to do But hurry up, I have many things to do today with you

Felicia walked into the sand pit, turned to face Laura and squatted, keeping her knees very widely open. She still needed to fight a wave of strong humiliation when she had to pee in front of her Mistress or Master. Her cheeks became cherry red when the first drops of piss flowed out of her little pee hole, arching between her ankles and pooling in the sand in front of her. She emptied her bladder while Laura kept the leash in her hand, always staring at the slave.

When the flow stopped, Felicia wiggled her butt to get rid of the last drops, which added to her humiliation. With her hands bound in her back, she could not wipe herself Laura pulled on the leash, and Felicia had to struggle in order to avoid falling face first in the sand. LetТs move, slut

Laura dragged Felicia towards the large swimming pool. The air was already very sticky and the sun still quite low on the horizon. This promised to be a very hot day! Laura stood by one of the elegant teak lounge chairs resting in the sun. She undid her kimono and let it slide down to the floor. Facing Felicia, she said: You have five minutes to shower and dry yourself, while I swim. IТll keep an eye on you. When youТre done, wait for me with a towel. Go ahead, move your filthy ass!

Yes Mistress.

Buck naked, Laura dove into the pool, shivering for an instant at the contact with the cool water. When she reappeared at the surface, she looked at Felicia. Following her instructions, the Spanish girl was using the garden hose, kept coiled by the swimming pool, to wash her self. As a slave she was not allowed to use the regular bathroom facilities, and because it was the summer, she could only use cold water to clean herself. She had been given a small hand rag and a simple soap, which she used both as soap and shampoo. Five minutes was the maximum time allowed for her grooming needs, and she could not loose time, in spite of the coldness of the water, in spite of the restraints that she still wore. She did her best, and rapidly cleaned her entire body, cunt and ass included, with the rag. When she was done, she dried herself with the hand towel she had been given and very rapidly combed her hair.

Feeling that the five minutes were almost spent, she tried to run towards the lounge chair, where she picked up LauraТs kimono. She folded it carefully and set it on the low table next to the chair. She unfolded the soft and large beach towel and turned towards the pool as Laura emerged from the water. Felicia could not help but finding her Mistress extremely attractive: dripping wet, she was rearranging her wet hair, shaking it like a dog, while crossing towards the chair. She left tiny wet footprints on the ground, which disappeared under the sun almost instantly.

Felicia wrapped the towel around her MistressТs shoulders, and started drying her back with gentle strokes. She started with the neck, and slowly went lower towards LauraТs bottom.

ThatТs enough said Laura. Put the towel on the chair.

Felicia complied silently and Laura laid down on the chair, looking for a comfortable position. From the table, she picked up fashionable sunglasses and put them on. She opened her legs wide, keeping her feet on the cooler ground, on each side of the chair. She grabbed the leash and tugged at it.

Now, be a good girl and eat my pussy, bitch.

Yes Mistress replied Felicia, already getting on her knees next to Laura. With her bound hands, she carefully parted LauraТs cunt lips and slowly started licking her MistressТ pussy, the chlorine scent from the swimming pool filling her nose. It was not long before Laura pressed her hands to the back of FeliciaТs head while the younger girl sucked and swallowed the whitish cream oozing from the cunt into her mouth. Laura started to moan while her clit grew harder under FeliciaТs precise tongue treatment.

When Laura felt her climax approaching, she rolled over and put her slaveТs head under her cunt. She sealed her pussy to FeliciaТs mouth and slowly started to urinate directly into the slaveТs throat.

A week ago, Mark and Laura had begun to train their slave as a toilet slave for their benefit. Felicia had almost fainted when she heard these words, and then she rebelled in earnest. The only thing that she had gained in so doing was a severe punishment: Mark and Laura had taken turns delivering two hundred lashes of the thin bamboo cane on her entire body. No place had been spared: tits, stomach, pussy, thighs (front and back), ass cheeks, sole of the feet. She had cried constantly, begging for mercy, and when the punishment was over, her body was a complete mess of blue and red marks, some of them bleeding where the skin had been broken. In the end, in a trembling voice broken by her sobs, she had accepted to be used as a urinal by her Master and Mistress, who had made it very clear that drinking their piss was only a beginning.

She had then spent the next twenty-four hours in a special contraption, designed by Mark for toilet service training, as he had explained. He called it the urinal box. It was in fact a sort of wooden crate, the size of an old-fashioned toy trunk. Mark had modified it, affixing straps and mounts to hold the slave firmly in place, totally helpless and cramped in the torture trunk. There was even an inside liner so that when the slave pissed herself, or if her owners pissed on her, nothing would leak out and the trainee would spend the day laying in, and smelling, their piss.

First, Felicia had been fitted with a rubber waist corset, wide enough to cover her from the base of her ribs to the top of her hips. Laura had drawn it tight enough to make the slave wince. Then she had been placed in the crate, after they had installed the liner and removed the wall at the foot of the box. Straps had gone across her belly and chest. Each leg had been bent and spread, then tied to the bottom of the chest beside her waist. Her ankles had been tied down at the other end and her arms had been strapped to the sides. Her head had been put on a small block of foam, to keep it tilted slightly towards her chest.

With one end wall of the crate removed, Mark and Laura had an excellent access to FeliciaТs asshole. Laura had carefully selected a butt plug, about ten inches long and very thick. Coating it with a fair amount of lube, Laura had pushed the entire length of the dildo inside FeliciaТs rectum, taking an immense pleasure in seeing the slaveТs anal ring stretch out grotesquely, despite all of FeliciaТs crying and begging. Mark had finally slid the wall in place, which completely prevented Felicia from expelling the plug that raped her ass. Laura had fitted a sort of ring gag over FeliciaТs mouth, forcing her jaws open and at the same time sealing the sides of her mouth.

Sadistically, Laura had explained: During these next twenty-four hours, each time Mark or I have to piss, we will come down here and see you. We will piss down that tube in your mouth, and you, our good little toilet, will swallow it. The rest of the time, the tube will be capped, so you will need to breathe through your nose. IТm sure that you will appreciate the smell

Felicia had groaned and closed her eyes, knowing that she would also be lying in a puddle of her own piss after a few hours. Mark and Laura had closed the top of the box, pierced with a hole for the long tube attached on one end to the gag-like device covering FeliciaТs mouth and on the other end to a sort of wide funnel.

Felicia had spent a full day cramped in the box, the pain in her bent legs causing her to twitch uncontrollably, causing her fatigued anal sphincter to clamp helplessly on the huge intruder in her body and piss to shoot from her body. Seven times, Mark and Laura had visited the female urinal and peed in her mouth. Seven times, she had had to drink all, almost choking to death many times. At the end of that dreadful day, Felicia was ready to drink her MastersТ pee voluntarily

And today, in the sun by the swimming pool, Felicia acted as a good toilet slave for her Mistress: she swallowed the dark yellow, bitter flow as Laura ground her wet cunt onto her face. After emptying her bladder, Laura rode FeliciaТs face until she came, splashing the slaveТs face with her love juice.

During the next hour, Laura got ready for the day. She had Felicia run her a hot and scented bath in her immense bathtub; she had her rub her back, her chest, her pussy, once again. While Felicia, still naked and chained, was cleaning the bathroom, Laura applied her make-up and went to the master bedroom to dress. Today she had selected a short dress with matching shoes; the dress was barely covering the top of her perfectly shaped thighs, and if she bent forward her round bottom was completely visible. Under the dress, she wore only red G-string panties, that disappeared between her ass cheeks; no bra.

She ordered Felicia to follow her into the living room, and she sat comfortably in the large leather couch. She made Felicia bring her a glass of sparkling water with a piece of lime and she took a sip before ordering.

Now, slut, get on all fours immediately.

Felicia dropped to her hands and knees to the floor at the side of the sofa, expecting her orders. Laura said: You may have noticed that, unlike many American families, we do not have a dog Well, I should say: we DID not have a dog Do you understand what I say, cunt?

Yes Mistress You are saying that now you have a dog. Your slave is your dog, if that is what pleases you, Mistress.

Very well It is amazing how well and fast you have improved your manners; I can hardly believe it. IТm starting to wonder whether becoming a full-time slave was a secret desire in you, bitch

Felicia said nothing, but in the bottom of her heart she was asking herself the same question. Could it be possible? Was she secretly dreaming of such a humiliating condition? Was she made to drink piss, to live naked and shackled?

Anyway, this morning, I feel like having a dog to play with What kind of dog could you be, slave? Let me think With your long hair on the sides of your head, you make me think of a cocker spaniel Yes, that matches you perfectly.

Laura reached under the cushion of the sofa and produced a latex plug of medium size, a perfect replica of a manТs dick. She held it up for Felicia to take a good look at it, and she threw it across the room. The dildo landed about five yards away, and rolled under an armchair next to the large home-video screen.

Go on, doggie Fetch the dick, and bring it back to Mistress!

Felicia turned around and crawled towards the armchair. Reaching it, she stopped and slid her arms under the seat, reaching for the plug. She started bringing it towards Laura when Laura yelled to her. When was the last time you saw a dog picking up anything with its paw, cunt? Even as a dog, youТre worthless! Take it in your mouth, bitch, and bring it here

Felicia lowered her head to the ground and fought to reach under the piece of furniture with her mouth. The seat was scratching her spine, and she barely managed to reach the plug that she took in between her teeth. Clasping her jaws tightly to keep it there, she started back towards the sofa.

Laura said approvingly: ThereТs a good dog Now, when you say that to a dog, it normally wags its tail. What are you waiting for, cunt? Wiggle that butt of yours. Show your Mistress what a good doggy you are

Still crawling forward, Felicia wiggled her ass and brought the dildo to Laura. Opening her mouth, she dropped it next to her on the sofa.

Ok, not too bad You make a passable dog, finally Now, walk around the room. Let me see how you crawl. Go ahead

Felicia made a wide circle around the living room, making sure to keep her ass high in the air, and her knees well apart from one another. Because of the position, her tits were swinging lightly, to the great pleasure of Laura who commented: Crawling like this, gravity becomes your friend and makes your teats seem almost adequate. ThatТs what you have, cunt, teats Your Mistress has beautiful breasts; you have pathetic teats, my little doggy Now, come back here and hurry it up!

Felicia, on the other side of the room, hurried back to the sofa as fast as possible. Her chains were rattling noisily on the wooden floor, and the tip of her leash trailed on the ground between her tits.

Come closer Now, pant! ordered Laura, slapping FeliciaТs face. YouТre a dog, remember? Behave like one, then ThatТs better Bark!

Felicia emitted a deep sound, which was not very convincing. She was rewarded with another slap on the face, which brought tears to her eyes. ThatТs not a bark. Try again bitch! And this time, youТd better be good, or IТll beat you to a pulp

Felicia struggled to control her sobbing. She did her best to bark in a convincing way and shouted what she thought was a pretty good waff waff. Laura smiled: Now, youТre talking. That was better. A cute little bitch Laura wiped the tears off FeliciaТs cheeks.

Now, I want you to roll over Not bad. Do it again, slower this time.

Felicia rolled on her back, taking her time and keeping her arms and legs up and bent, as a dog would while playing on the ground. Then she completed her rolling motion, coming back to stand on her hands and knees.

Now, bow before your Mistress. Show me a glamour dog!

Felicia looked at Laura, with questioning eyes. Mistress, your slave doesnТt understand. What is a glamour dog, Mistress?

Keep your ass up, legs apart; stretch your arms out on the floor in front of you Yes, thatТs good. Now, rest the side of your head on your arms, and look up with nice wide eyes, and a little pant.

Felicia complied and looked at Laura with begging eyes, displaying her submission in a rather obvious and sincere way. Laura appreciated the effort and the result. Pretty good job, bitch. Remember this position well; this is precisely the stance youТll have to assume if we want to fuck you as a dog

Leaving the slave in the humiliating position, Laura stood up and went to the kitchen to refill her glass. Coming back in the living room, she stood next to the prone dog slave.

Ok, that will do for now. Get back on all fours, doggie. Hand me the leash. WeТve got to do some shopping this morning, but first IТll have to dress you up a little bit for your visit to the mall. LetТs go to my bedroom. On all fours, of course

Dragging her compliant dog slave behind her, Laura left the living room

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Melissa [ED]

Melissa

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Melissa
by Ed. All rights reserved.
Illustrations by Stig.

1831, The Transvaal, South Africa

With a noisy creak, the heavy door opened and Kleine Kraal’s head servant, Hlubi, stood in the entrance, large and forbidding, his presence all the girl needed to know that the time for her punishment had come at last. Scarcely a day after Rodger Blore had left for his yearly trip back to England, his son Kyle, now twenty and in charge of the ranch during his absence, had made a pass at the pretty Boer servant girl, Melissa Meuws, he had desired for the past four years. She was demurely cute, with glorious red hair down to her shoulders and freckles across her creamy-white skin. He grabbed her tits once from behind and tried to kiss her, but she had slapped his face and cursed him, beating his hands away. Rodger did not for get – or forgive. Soon after, a search of her single room had been initiated which turned up some gold coins under her mattress. Kyle identified them and accused her of thievery. As the acting Nkosi, laird of the ranch, he had coldly sentenced her to the Whipping Post the following morning. Still protesting her innocence, she was taken to the small house, used for the extra hands during the round up, and locked inside. There she sat all night, trying not to think about the horror morning would bring.

“It is time, missy,” Hlubi said. Resigned to this moment, Melissa stood and took a step toward the door. Hlubi held up a hand, stopping her.

“But first, you are to remove your blouse, missy. The Nkosizana, the little master has ordered that you are to walk to the post naked to the waist. Please, Missy. You have to leave your shirt here. Either you do it yourself, or I have to do it by force. I … I would rather not have to do that. Please, missy, it is time to go and his instructions must be followed.”

The young Boer girl could see both the reluctance and determination in his eyes. She knew that nothing would be accomplished by fighting here-at best, she would only delay the inevitable and at worst, well, there would be two floggings this day and Hlubi had always been kind to her. She stood and her hands rose to the drawstring at her neck. It took only a minute to undo the buttons and husk the well-worn blouse from her shoulders. Beneath it she wore only a simple bandeau of cloth crossing her breasts and tied in back. Her hands reached behind her to work at its knot. Soon it, too, opened and she dropped it reluctantly on the bunk. Melissa was now topless and she saw Hlubi look away in embarrassment. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, but he said, “Hands at your sides, missy. The Nkosizana was very clear. He wants to see you exposed when you walk to the post.”

“B-But why?” she said plaintively, her arms slowly lowering. “Just to finally see me like this?”

Hlubi could not meet her eyes. “I think … I think he means to hurt you.” He gestured toward her chest. “Hurt you there, I mean.”

The pretty redhead’s arms flew back up to cup and hide her bare breasts at his words and a chill ran through her. Oh gods, oh gods, she thought. Of course. She would be facing the Post, she knew, but with her hands tied up high there would be little protection for her titties and the sjambok had a long reach. With the old man gone, there was nothing to stop Kyle from directing the lash around to sting the tender sides of her globes. She had frustrated him and he would not have forgotten. And he was cruel.

“Sorry, missy. Sorry, but we must go now. Try to be strong.”

Melissa took a deep breath, gathered her courage, dropped her arms, and walked past him through the door into the yard. Oh gods!

Just a week past her eighteenth birthday, Melissa Meuws possessed a stunning young female body. She had a heart-shaped face, high cheekbones, eyes of sky blue, and a cute pixieish face often given to smiling. A light dappling of freckles crossed cheeks, nose, and neck before decorating the tops of her proud bust. Not quite five and a half feet tall, she had matured young and filled her blouse and skirt with ample promise of ripe feminine flesh beneath. In the bright sunlight, the glorious rose-cream of her skin seemed to glow. Bared to the waist, the maid’s lovely nude tits thrust out from her torso like two round and perfect cones. The tapered mounds were capped with broad coral-red disks that rose to hardening points. The petite girl stood rigidly erect, the lines of muscle showing clearly beneath her pale skin, highlighting the long concave curves of belly and abdomen. Years of hard work had pared her form of any excess fat, although her curves were still nicely rounded. Carried low on her slim hips, the home-spun skirt rode just beneath the dainty puckered navel.

The sun was very bright coming from the dark room, so she lifted a hand to shade her eyes, unaware of the erotic way the motion lifted her right mound. She saw the estate’s Whipping Post fifty paces away, seven feet of ominous dark wood. The other servants were assembled there already to witness the punishment, as were Kyle Blore and Bette Marlborough, niece of a neighboring rancher. They were both on horseback and watching her intently. Melissa found that the presence of the white girl embarrassed her more than that of Kyle and the black servants. Then Hlubi gently pushed her back, pointing towards the post. Dropping her hand and squaring her shoulders, Melissa Meuws started forward toward the Whipping Post.

* * * * *

Kyle saw movement at the small house. So, the wench had finally come out, standing in the late morning sunshine. One hand was up to shield her eyes from the glare and the man could see that his orders had been carried out-the young Boer girl was totally and gloriously nude to the waist. Even at this distance, he could plainly make out the ruddy disks of her nipples against the creamy chest skin. He shivered in anticipation and felt his sex stirring beneath his trousers. I’ve waited a long time for this, you haughty bitch. The elderly servant touched her shoulder and pointed forward, falling in behind like an escort.

Kyle and Bette watched avidly as the lovely redhead strode towards the punishment ground, eyes straight and shoulders back. She walked proudly, with that sinuous twist all women are born with. Her thrusting white titties jiggled provocatively to each slow step, swaying delicately from side to side. From a distance, the maid looked brave and resolute, but her lower lip was trembling in fearful anticipation of the ordeal facing her. She had witnessed many whippings during her time working at Kleine Kraal and always felt nauseated after they were done and the bleeding victim was left, twitching and moaning against the bloodstained wood. Melissa could see Blore, leaning up in his saddle, and next to him that sweet-smelling tart from the next krall. An audience. Kyle was not going to spare her the least indignity.

Soon she drew near the dreaded Post, a tall mahogany trunk set firmly in the ground. Large iron eye-bolts were buried into the wood at points down its length. The dark hardwood carried still darker stains, memorials from many past beatings. Kleine Kraal’s flogger, a large, muscular Matabele named Mbane, stood waiting beside it, holding the fearful sjambok in his hands, forty inches of cured, supple hippo hide tapering to a split tip.

Once at the Post, Melissa looked up at it with loathing, then she turned towards her accuser. Standing tall and proud as her 5′ 5″ permitted, her beautiful bare breasts thrust arrogantly out from her chest in the hot morning sunlight. Kyle Blore walked his horse up a little and leaned on the pommel.

“Melissa Meuws, you were caught stealing from your laird’s House. As acting laird while my father is away, I order that you receive the maximum discipline allowed: five dozen strokes with the sjambok!”

“You know the truth, Kyle Blore”, she threw at him. “You know I’m innocent, you pig! Just because I wouldn’t submit to your filthy touch-”

“The guilty always lie,” Kyle interrupted blandly. “You only seek to delay your just punishment. Mbane, secure her to the post and begin!”

The large Matabele draped his cruel whip casually over the stunned girl’s shoulders while he locked broad leather cuffs tightly around each wrist. Her two milk-white beauties trembled between her arms. The redhead looked tiny next to the muscular Matabele, even more so as she cringed against the cool touch of the whip against her tender flesh. Once finished, he turned her around and pushed her against the post, the dark wood warm against her chest from the sun’s rays. Raising the captive arms high, he crossed her wrists before tying them off to the top ringbolts with stout cords. Melissa noticed the positioning, but thought that it was just some minor enhancement to her discomfort.

The two Brits nudged their mounts over to get a better view. They stared at her breasts as her wrists were raised and tied, the proud white cones pulling up and back into a pair of high, rounded melons. Kyle’s prick twitched up in his pants at the sight. He had seen them push against her simple blouse and sampled their fullness during his one grope, but now the sight of them naked-and the knowledge that soon they would feel the lash-stimulated him powerfully. The pretty Boer girl’s nipples kept their shape as the tits rode up, sticking out from the two beauties like coral-hued mushrooms. Gads! He had never seen puffy nipples like that on a white woman before and the image stirred his loins.

In a moment, Mbane was done. He dragged the sjambok free from her shoulders and the girl shivered. She had seen what the whip could do, but at least she would be taking it over her back. Just the slick touch of it slithering over her breasts made her feel sick with loathing.

Kyle gestured to the Matabele, eager now for the show to begin. Mbane nodded and shook out his whip. He looked over at the expanse of milky white skin waiting for his whip and chose a spot. His arm went back and then, with a powerful motion, he swept the sjambok forward to deliver the first whistling slash over his captive’s shoulderblades.

“Uhnnnn,” Melissa grunted and her body twisted sharply. She had determined during the night that she would deny Kyle the satisfaction of crying out under the beating, but the sudden, searing line of pain across her back drew the sound unbidden. Maas! No stranger to the switch, she knew the rhino whip would be worse, but the reality of that difference was shocking. The supple lash seemed to cling to her skin, leaving only fire behind. How would she ever withstand sixty such strokes? Her thoughts were brutally interrupted by the next lash, a lightning bolt of fire that cut over her lower back just above the hips, bisecting the pert sacral dimples. The split tip snapped sharply against the exquisitely tender skin of her contoured side, biting a tiny hole in the soft flesh and starting a small drip of liquid scarlet oozing down over her hip. The redhead twitched in response and again held the cry of pain back with great effort.

Kyle grinned hugely at the erotic sight before him. Every time the sjambok sliced over the wench’s back, her lusty white female body would jerk and writhe against the tall post. His eyes kept returning to the dancing white globe of her right breast. It would leap and jiggle like a thing apart of her, the cream color a delightful contrast to the dark stained wood, and he felt his sex swelling against the front of his pants in response. Mbane varied the timing and placement of his strokes, sweeping three rapid cuts to shoulders and then waiting one, two, or three long moments before applying the next, long anticipated, attack to some new soft virgin spot. Brilliant red and rising weals left a vivid testimony to the power of the flogging and small droplets of bloody fluid leaked slowly from spots where the skin abraded or the snake’s-tongue tip had bitten. A fine sheen of agony-sweat coated Melissa’s upper torso now, making the fine feminine curves shine and sparkle in the bright South African sun.

Bette Marlborough was excited as well, her loins hot and wet. The sheer decadence of the show in front of her was stirring in a way she had never dreamed. Her father wouldn’t permit the whip on his ranch, so she was only just discovering this side of her feelings. She had been Kyle’s guest twice before to watch as two natives, a man and a woman, were tied to the Post and their backs flayed. This was special, however, and she had decided to make a play for Kyle Blore soon after it began. Such a marriage would increase her power and also promised a lifetime of diversions such as this. She could see the growing bulge in the front of his trousers. Soon, she thought. Soon, but not yet. She leaned over and whispered into his ear, “That dancing boobie of hers has you entranced, Kyle. Why not see if it’s as sensitive as it looks?”

He looked back at her, pleased by the look of lust in her eyes. “Don’t worry, pet, I haven’t forgotten about those fat titties of hers. Oh no. I have something very special in mind for them, but just to make you happy …” He signalled to Mbane with one hand. The Matabele saw it and nodded.

Mbane leaned forward into the next stroke, slipping the pointed end around to snap viciously against the outside of her right chest melon. Melissa let out a hissing gasp of shock and her narrow back arched sharply in reaction. Damn damn damn, that hurt! Even though she was topless, she had been certain that the whipping would be only on her back, like when they disciplined the servants. True, they sometimes turned a pretty female slave around to lash her front if she was young and large there, but that was just man-play with a darkie. Even though a Boer, she was still a white woman and such things were not supposed to happen. She would soon learn just how far wrong she was.

“Oooo, yes,” Bette said in a husky voice. “I thought that would get her attention. A woman’s titties are very sensitive, almost as much as her-well, you know.” She blushed demurely. “It’s too bad we can’t see her bottom and thighs. I bet they would look pretty wearing stripes, too.”

Kyle grinned back at her. He kicked his horse and walked it up to the far side of the post. Melissa stared at him with hate-filled eyes, shamed by her uncontrollable tears. He glanced down to her chest, stirred by the sight of the two sweat-shiny globes on either side of the pole. He could clearly see the rising red weal curving around the right from behind. Ooo, that must have hurt. Then another stroke crossed her back and the girl lunged against the pole in reaction. Kyle grinned. Another left a line of pain right where her skirt ended low on her loins. There was long delay and then the sjambok flew again, the twelft stroke, and Mbane swept it out long to score the girl’s right globe again, this time scoring it along the full bottom curve. Although shamefully aware of the man’s eyes on her, Melissa just couldn’t control her maddened spasms of agony on the Post.

Kyle moved his mount closer, stopping Mbane with a hand. “Are you ready yet to apologise for slapping me, to ask-no, beg me to take you to my bed? That’s only the first dozen strokes and the sentence is four more. I can stop it now. All you have to do is beg me for a fucking. Come on, beg me to take you to my bed and I’ll stop the pain.”

“Never!” she snarled up at him, chest heaving. “I would sooner die than submit to such a thing!”

“No, you won’t die, bitch. Although you may well be pleading for that before Mbane is finished. First you’ll scream and then you’ll beg.”

“Never!”

The man reined back and glared over at the whipper. “Continue! Whip her some more! I want to hear her wail!”

SWACKKT! SCRACKT! Melissa writhed impotently at the post as the next six strokes carved her back from hips to neck again. Through her tears, she could see Kyle staring at her from the saddle. Mbane made sure that every one of them ended along her tender side. He knew from past experience just how agonizing the lash was there. The split tip left small, painful rips behind, each one soon dribbling thin runnels of blood from armpit to hip. The sixth returned to her right tit, biting like a serpent’s tongue around the ripe curve, but still she remained silent. Kyle called for another break in the beating.

Kyle nudged the horse up closer beside her. “A special target for you now, Mbane!” he ordered. Then, swinging low from the saddle, he grabbed the hem of Melissa Meuws skirt and lifted it high, exposing her bottom. She wore a frayed pair of mid-thigh pantaloons underneath, her only store bought garment. The flimsy cotton did little to hide the fine compact melons shifting beneath. “Six more on her arse now and put your back into it. I want to see her bottom bleed!”

“N-No, you mustn’t. It’s not right. I’m no kaffir wench and this is wronUUNNHH!” The hissing strike of the sjambok stopped the protest in her mouth abruptly. The flogger pulled back at the last moment so only the final foot of his whip struck the taut rounded buttocks. She lurched against the unyielding wood in response to the sudden pain. The slicing stroke with the sjambok cut through her flimsy pantaloons and the flesh beneath like a knife, leaving a shallow tear behind. A bright line of blood started staining the white fabric even before the next lash flew.

The redhead’s cheeks were crimson with shame at the embarrassing exposure, but the searing pain of the sjambok slicing across her bottom brought her back to the immediacy of her predicament. SCRACKT! Another hot whip cut bisected the broadest expanse of the girl’s clenching ass cheeks. Mbane sent each new lash down lower over the firm hillocks, leaving fresh lines of fire behind. Each stroke was delivered so as to slice through the flimsy pantalloons and the top layer of skin beneath. The last of the six carved the tender flesh of her upper thighs just under the round melons and Kyle laughed at the mincing dance of pain her small bare feet performed. Yet she still wouldn’t scream.

The rancher dropped the skirt angrilly. Very well, my pretty, he thought. No lousy Boer slut turns me down. I’ll teach you your place. You’ll beg before I’m through with you! Melissa looked back over her shoulder and saw him talking to the flogger. Mbane nodded, set down the whip, and approached her. Melissa mistakenly sagged against the post in relief. I’ve done it, she thought. Withstood the unjust flogging without breaking. The large Matabele grabbed her arms near the wrists and she reached higher so he could undo her cuffs easier, but instead the maid felt her torso being twisted roughly around so that she now faced out, her aching back pressed against the mahogany.

“W-What are you doing?!” the redhead protested loudly. “This isn’t right! It’s over! Let me go! Let me go! Oh oh oh, not like this! Not on my front! No, it’s wrong! Let me go, I say!”

Mbane didn’t say a word, but quickly moved behind the mahogany pole, reached around and yanked Melissa’s feet out from under her. He pulled her feet back roughly behind it. These he quickly tied sole to sole with a short cord. The girl’s tattered skirt dropped off her hips during the repositioning and now stretched across her thighs, so Mbane took a knife and just cut it away. Now the lovely young redhead’s sole garment was her flimsy, store-bought pantalloons. There were little frills around the bottoms, just above the knees, a sight Kyle found strangely arousing. In back, her bloodied back and ass rubbed against the post, adding to its myriad stains. Kyle walked his horse up again.

“No, my haughty little Boer, it’s not over. Not by a long shot! And I have no intention of letting you go, either. Your plump titties just beg for the whip’s caresses, and they shall feel them! Ever since I first saw them last year when I caught you bathing at the river, I’ve wanted to see them up close and naked, wanted to touch them. But you wouldn’t let me-Me! Soon to be Lord of this entire manor! You’ve remained remarkably quiet up to now, but I want to see how brave you will be when you face the sjambok! You can imagine what that means, can’t you, ‘Lissa? Soon you take the whip on your pretty tits!

“The bitch has three dozen more to go, Mbane! Stripe her pretty belly up well now! There’ll be other targets later!”

Melissa suddenly felt very vulnerable and very very exposed. She squirmed against the dark wood, desperate to somehow protect her soft front, but there was no hiding the arrogant thrust of her lusty young tits and she blushed furiously in shame at the young laird’s lascivious leer. The pretty Boer girl was absolutely helpless, hanging against the Whipping Post with her naked upper torso bared for the lash.

The muscular African picked up the cruel sjambok and resumed his position to her side. His black eyes ate up the sight of the white girl’s lusty bare breasts. Her buttocks were far too small for his liking, but the color contrast of her plump tits was curiously arousing, and the skin there would show the marks of the whip very nicely. The terrified captive looked around her. She could see Kyle sitting his horse next to Bette again, the Englishwoman’s hand busy now over his crotch, undoing the laces holding it closed. All about were the other servants, some shamed, but most enjoying the show along with Mbane. A sudden, cool breeze blew over her naked torso and goose bumps rose across the white mounds, visibly hardening the erect paps in the bright sunlight. All her weight hung from the chaffing wrist cuffs and her mounds had risen high on her chest, the puffy coral nipples pointing pertly up and out. With the wind evaporating her sweat, the teats pinched up hard in their centers, looking like little pink mountains.

She saw Mbane pulling back his arm and then the bloody sjambok flew through the air to slice harshly across her softly rounded belly. Now that she was facing the other way, her untouched left side was available to the split tip. A young woman’s sides are extremely sensitive and Mbane’s cruel tactic of attacking them with the sjambok’s fangs added a shrieking note of intolerability at the end of every stroke.

Lash followed lash and bright red welts appeared over her abdomen, stomach, and ribcage as if painted by a mad artist. Melissa gasped to the whistling strokes and her white form writhed, making the high perched bare breasts wobble wildly just above. As before, the native flogger varied the interval between his cuts, so the helpless wench couldn’t anticipate any set rhythm. Her head twisted and tossed as she worked to endure the whipping in silence, her auburn tresses flying over shoulders and upper chest. Finally, the last of the third dozen raked the maid’s taut ribs and Mbane lowered his arm.

Kyle approached again, looking down at the moaning young girl. A heavy pattern of angry scarlet weals crossed and criss-crossed the curves and planes of her belly and abdomen, highlighting the fine gleaming white globes above. He waved a hand in front of her face to get her attention. After a long moment, she gathered herself and looked back up at him. Despite the tears, there was still defiance there, still contempt. He glanced down again, admiring the superb bust and rounded coral nipples. Melissa followed his gaze and shivered in horror. There were still two dozen lashes remaining and she was very conscious of her protruding chest. Kyle wheeled his horse back to Bette’s side. “Do you remember that special bit I promised? Well, it’s time, pet. Now we’ll see her really squirm!

“Apply your whip to those proud titties now, Mbane! No deep wounds, but make sure the wench feels them! And get her hair out of the way first. There must be no protection for them, none! I want her broken, screaming. Now begin, and make those titties dance!”

The huge Negro took a moment to pull the long auburn tresses behind Melissa’s neck and shoulders. Then, to make sure that she couldn’t shake them back over her tits again, he bound her head to the post with an inch-wide leather strap. Once secured, the girl couldn’t turn it and her sky-blue eyes darted back and forth in helpless fear. The girl couldn’t protest this latest refinement; her anxiety now was complete. Her back, ass, and belly still burned terribly from their beating and now it was time for her beautiful nude breasts to feel the sjambok’s hot kisses and she was absolutely helpless to protect them. From the time they had bloomed on her chest, the proudly capped peaks had proven to be exquisitely sensitive. Just the feel of a boy’s hand fondling her there would fill the junction of her thighs with moist warmth. Now the huge Matabele was taking aim at them with the hideous rhinohide whip, pulling his muscular arm slowly back. How would she ever endure the pain!

There was a dark flash low in her captive gaze. SMACKKT! A sudden line of white hot agony carved both tender bottom curves and tears flooded her eyes again. “UUHHHNN!” she grunted in uncontrolled reaction. She had wanted to remain absolutely stoic throughout the punishment, but oh the pain, the pain! The sweet responsiveness of her poor bare breasts, meant for the thrill of a lover, was now being used to bring her unendurable misery. The girl’s lusty semi-nude body writhed lasciviously under the insanely intense agony in her jutting chest. SWACKKT! A second line cut diagonally over her chest, catching lower right and upper left and the young female’s body contorted again.

From his vantage point, Kyle had a perfect view of the action and was enjoying it immensely. Moments earlier, Bette had deftly unbuttoned his fly and freed the swollen organ inside to the sun and breeze. Now her slim fingers were gently gliding up and down the rigid shaft, playing with him, as they both watched the lurid scene unfold. Mbane delivered a fourth stroke and a fifth, each new lash setting the pointed globes heaving and leaving a bright red weal behind on the milky skin. With wrists, head, and feet bound, Melissa was quite helpless, but her topless form still managed to writhe deliciously. The maid’s desperate motions only served to launch her two high perched globes in an endless dance of suffering. Now the sixth slash embraced the sweat-shiny tits, returning to the two under curves a finger’s-breadth from the aureoles. Kyle groaned with the girl as Bette expertly milked a heavy drop of fluid from his turgid glans. She dipped her head to lick it away just as Mbane swept the sjambok down to both smooth upper slopes and the girl twisted again. He relished the erotic sensations rippling down through his rigid penis under the English girl’s deft attentions, but he was also growing extremely angry with the Boer wench’s stubbornness. There were only eighteen strokes left and the bitch still wouldn’t scream. Very well, he thought, very well.

“Hold your arm, Mbane. I have an idea that will make her more repentent.” He slid smoothly from the saddle and strode to the post, so intent that he didn’t care that his erection was clearly exposed between his legs. As soon as he reached the bound maiden, his hands rose to her breasts. Kyle fondled the nude globes roughly. “I’ve waited long enough to finally get a feel of these naked! They’re soft, very soft-very pretty. I bet the whip really hurts when it kisses them, eh? Bet they’re very sensitive, too.” He drew sharp gasps from the panting girl by tracing the rising red welts with a thumb nail. Soon his fingers were drawn to the pink mushroom cap nipples. Kyle pinched the spongy buttons and toyed with their flinty points. The prisoner on the post could feel his sex pressing lewdly against her right thigh while his hands groped her breasts and shivered in revulsion. His smiling face moved in front of her and, without really thinking, she spit into his face!

The young rancher jerked back as if struck. “BITCH!,” he snarled. He wiped the spit away with one hand while viciously grabbing and twisting Melissa’s left pap with the other. “You arrogant bitch, that little trick just earned you a ride on the Bishop’s Horse! But not yet, oh no, not just yet! Not while the sjambok still has kisses left to give. And I have a little idea that should make those kisses even more painful. This will break your pride, ‘Lissa girl. You’ll scream for me before I’m through. Oh, yes, you will.”

Kyle reached into a shirt pocket and removed a box of lucifers. He saw her eyes grow wide as the realization hit. The girl threw all of her strength at the wrist and foot bonds, fighting madly to somehow escape, but the straps were much too strong and all she managed to do was squirm impotently in the sun. He fished one of the little sticks out and struck it against the box until the tip blossomed into a sulphurous flame. His left hand pushed the cute redhead against the post, holding her torso steady. Cupping the match against the light breeze, Kyle brought the burning end up and began passing it slowly beneath the large coral nipple of her right tittie.

“HUUUUUNNNNNNNNNN! AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH! S-S-STOP, STOP! AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH! OH, IT BURNS! IT BURNS! OH, YOU VILE PIG, STOP IT. OOOOHHHHHH!” The teenager couldn’t keep her cries in check at this unexpected attack. She fought against his hand, but was powerless to escape the savage heat afflicting her areola. The flickering yellow flame licked up at the coral dome, searing the tightly clustered nerve endings. He was able to torture the rigid teat as well before the match reached his fingers. She saw another flash of light and then he returned to the right summit, roasting the upper semicircle this time, holding the yellow flame right against the coral dome. Melissa tried desperately to escape the inhuman pain, but was too firmly held. Before the second match had gone out, he had raised numerous tiny blisters along the flinty shaft of the teat, creating an exquisite agony. Down below, he could feel his penis twitching up vigorously in delight at the girl’s ghastly sexual suffering.

It took three of the mundane, yet horribly effective, implements before Kyle was satisfied with his treatment of the delicate left pap. Tears streamed down the young girl’s freckled cheeks and she was forced to cry out during the burning of her nipple, yet she had still managed to keep from breaking. The teenager cursed him like a voortrekker between her gasps and groans, aggravating him even further. He held the last of the lucifers under her sensitive left teat until his fingertips hurt and he had to toss it down to the ground. Stubborn bitch! Kyle stuck his fingers in his mouth to soothe the pain there. Those pink caps must be really throbbing now. Will you be able to endure the sjambok’s kisses on them now?

He moved behind the post and reached around with his hands to find her seared and aching tittie tips again, thrilling to their hot feel and the pimply spread of aching fire blisters across their bottoms. He moved his lips close to one ear. “Remember the Bishop’s Horse, bitch!” he hissed, “but that’s later. No, it’s what’s coming next that you should be thinking about. Your nipples feel hot, now. I bet the fire really hurt, eh? Well, you’ve got seventeen more strokes from the sjambok coming and I’m going to tell Mbane to aim them all right here where my fingers are playing with you. That’s right, my beauty, that’s right. Now Mbane is going to flog you on your pretty plump nipples with the nasty whip. Now you’ll wish you had given your ripe breasts to me freely.”

His hands left her flesh and he returned to his saddle, rigid phallus swaying. “Whip her pretty tittie tips now, Mbane! I want them to hurt. I want them to hurt bad!”

Oh, no no no. Melissa’s mind churned in panic. Stretched by her weight, back arched by the unyielding post, whipped bare breasts heaving on her ribcage, and her nipples, her poor blistered nude nipples, protruding out and away from their tips as if begging for attention, her every sense was focused on her immediate plight. The pain so far had been almost beyond belief and now the sex pain would be even worse.

There was the briefest of warnings as the sjambok flew through the air and then Melissa Meuws’ world burst into waves of blinding white-hot pain. The Matabele sent his stroke across the very centers of her jutting tits, biting both nude nipples viciously.

“HHHHHUUUUUNNNNNN!” the wrenching young nude barely

kept the full lunged wail of absolute misery behind her quivering lips. Sweat poured down her head and body, glinting in the brilliant yellow sun. The malevolent lash ravaged the cruelly irritated nerves, sending bolts of fiery pain surging through her rosy peaks. Melissa’s sculpted torso heaved to her desperate need for air.

SSSCRACKT! There was no warning at all this time. Mbane sent another crisp cut to the proffered chest, the split tip bursting against the left cap. Only seconds later it struck again, diabolically returning to the same swollen red nipple and shredding open several of the hard little blisters.

It was a scene out of medieval times: A young female, stripped to the waist and hanging with her back to the Whipping Post. Lovely pert globes bared to the hot afternoon sun-and stinging touch of the sjambok. The air split from the whistling slice of leather through the air, then came the loud, moist SMACKT of the lash slapping cruelly home to tender female tits. Finally, the ageless dance of the whip, the frantic, desperate, futile, wild contortions of a young naked woman fighting to somehow withstand excruciating pain, pain barbarously aimed at the most sensitive portions of her helpless anatomy. The great brute swung his bloody whip again to the jutting nude globes and the lurid display of sexual sadism continued.

Bette Marlborough could tell that Kyle was extremely aroused. She leaned over from her saddle and took the young man’s throbbing penis into her mouth and heard him gasp with the new pleasure. Oh so slowly, she slid her lips up and down his shaft, fellating him expertly.

He gripped her hair with his right hand, controlling her motions, but his eyes were glued to the scene at the post. The pretty young Boer was writhing wildly to the scant limit of her bonds as lash after lash curled over her protruding bare breasts. Numerous bright red welts striped their middles, each one crossing some part of the puffy areolas. Clear fluid, streaked with vivid scarlet, oozed down over Melissa’s lower curves. SMACKKT! No interval, the supple tongue of rhino hide striking brutally down on the swelling aureoles before the miserable girl had fully absorbed the previous stroke. With her legs wrapped behind the Post, her back pressed firmly against the wood and there was no give, making the whip strikes over her front sting even more than before. Her eyes were darting wildly in terror and her mouth gaped like a grounded fish’s. Sweat poured down her lithe body from the enormous effort of enduring the savage torture.

SCRACKKT! The pointed tip exploded against the very center of her left pap, ripping a hole open at the base of the teat and drawing the first real blood from the sensitive nipple. At long last, her final reserves of strength exhausted and Melissa finally broke under the prolonged inhuman sex torture.

“AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!” she shrieked loudly. “NO MORE, NO MORE, NO MORE! AAAAHHHHHH, IT HURTS, IT HURTS! HIIIIEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!

P-PLEASE, NO MORE! I’LL DO IT! I’LL DO IT, JUST MAKE IT STOP! OH, MY POOR TITTIES, OH THEY HURT SO MUCH, SO MUCH! PLEASE! I’LL DO ANYTHING, ANYTHING, LET YOU MAKE LOVE TO ME, ONLY MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOPPPPP!”

Kyle was very close to coming in Bette’s warm, wet mouth. There was no way he was going to stop now. “Continue the torture of her breasts,” he yelled to Mbane, hoarse with passion. “She should have controlled her pride sooner. Now she gets the full five dozen! Continue!”

“No! Oh, no, please noOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWAAAHHHHH!

EEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! OH, PLEASE, OH PLEASE, NO MORE, NO MORE, NO MORE!”

The Matabele crossed to Melissa’s left and swept a vicious backhand cut to her proud right globe and nipple. His aim was true, but it still took a second such stroke before that tit’s swollen cap split and sprayed crimson like the left’s.

“HIEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH! AAAAAAOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWW!” Now that Melissa’s resistance had cracked, each fresh lash wrenched piercing screams of unendurable suffering from her powerful lungs. After having withstood so much shame and pain proudly, the hideous sensation of having her sensitive nude nipples burned and beaten until they bled had crushed her control. All the pent up suffering so expensively bought over the past hour now burst through the shattered levee with every new touch. Now she wished only for an end to the hideous torture of her tits. She would beg, she would grovel, she would spread her legs like a Bantu bride if it would only stop the intolerable pain!

There was no escape. Mbane moved to Melissa’s front so he could attack the jutting turrets with a pair of snapping vertical strokes to the very tip of each. Loud shrieks of inhuman suffering roared from her throat at the blinding flash of pain that exploded through her seared nude nipples at each one. Kyle leaned back in the saddle to better present his rigid penis to Bette’s imaginative tongue and mouth play as he watched the cruel tit torture go on.

SCRACKKKT! “IIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH! N-NO MORE, NO MORE, NO MORE!”

SWACKKT! “OOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWW! OH, MY BREASTS, MY POOR BREASTS! F-Fuck me if you must, but STOP HURTING ME ON MY POOR BARE BREASTS!”

SWACKKT! “HIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!”

Shiny red rivulets of blood rolled down over both bulging lower curves now, bright droplets flying as the titties danced. Now only three strokes to go and Mbane, back on her right side, applied a full-arm swing that caught both seared aureoles and abraded their upper crescents, drawing yet more blood and yet louder squeals. Finishing with this ghastly focus on such tender portions of her body was inhuman, the agony barbarically sexual in its intensity.

SCRACKT! The Matabele swept another raking slash over the helpless redhead’s bloated nipples, scouring their undersides this time. The miserable teenager shrieked incoherently in pain, her sweaty white female form thrashing on the post, large, whip-wealed titties heaving wildly on her chest. The sjambok burst most of the remaining heat blisters on the swollen areolas with this cut and the pain was awesome.

Bette could sense Kyle’s imminent explosion and was swirling her little tongue around his glans. Her cheeks curved in sharply as she sucked on the man’s throbbing sex. Melissa’s heart-wrenching scream and the sight of her lusty nude body writhing, and bleeding, under the whip, finally triggered his orgasm. He gripped Bette’s head with both hands as the hot liquid waves of pleasure shot up through his spasming penis into her throat. He let out a long, low groan of delight. The young man’s back arched tautly in the saddle as Bette bobbed her mouth quickly over his pulsing phallus.

One more lash remained and Mbane made it a good one, a harsh whistling cut that bisected the aching nude nipples and tortured the hard red teats jutting from their centers. The miserable young girl squealed with desperate abandon, utterly mastered now by her prolonged ordeal. It was several long minutes before Melissa realized that the beating was indeed finally over.

* * * * *

Kyle smiled. The day’s entertainment had already been better than he had imagined-and he had imagined a very enjoyable day, indeed. Melissa Meuws had delivered a superb performance on the Whipping Post, arrogant and stubborn to the very last, prompting Kyle to torture her large puffy nipples with matches and then have the bulging paps scourged until the wench finally broke under the inhuman pain. Bette’s knowledge of “French Play” had come as a marvelous surprise. She had used her mouth to give him a memorable orgasm and even now was gently cleaning his sex with a kerchief. And there was still more fun to come. During a moment of rebellious pride, the silly wench had had the temerity to spit in his face. He immediately added a ride on the Bishop’s Horse to her ordeal. Now it was time for her to mount the cruel rail.

The beaten girl hung against the Post, her heavily welted nude upper torso still wracked by uncontrollable spasms of agony. Mbane cut her feet apart and untied the strap holding her forehead still against the wood. Melissa’s head lolled forward. The Matabele flogger tried to get her legs under her, but her knees kept collapsing and she would dangle from her cuffs. Mbane looked up at Kyle, who nodded. Several buckets waited in the punishment yard for this purpose and he picket one up and unceremoniously doused the moaning girl with its contents.

“Huh! Wha . . . OOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWW! OOOOWWW! WHHHHAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH! AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRAAAAHHH!” She screamed.

“Salt water,” Kyle commented to Bette Marlborough. “It helps to prevent infection, but more importantly for this Boer bitch, it stings like acid when it gets into all those little rips and tears in her skin.”

The effect was indeed dramatic. The young redhead had suddenly revitalized, squirming madly and fighting the ropes holding her against the post. Tendrils of blood oozed down her forearms from where the wrists had abraded. Her swollen bare breasts juddered side to side as the strong brine attacked raw, exposed nerves all over her whipped upper body. The new pain was appalling, not only in its fiery intensity, but because the liquid was able to flow over large areas of sliced and swollen skin at once. The pretty redhead’s contortions of intolerable sexual suffering were extremely lascivious.

“That’s better!” Kyle called out. “Good job, Mbane. We want her wide awake for her ride! When she settles down take her to the Horse.”

It took almost five minutes before Melissa’s spastic convulsions died down and she hung whimpering on the Whipping Post. After that, it was only a moment’s work to undo the wrist and ankle cords from the iron bolts. Melissa’s hands immediately flew down to cup her throbbing tortured tits, desperate to soothe them, but Mbane effortlessly wrenched her arms behind her back and strapped them together wrist to elbow. A last rope was looped around her neck and knotted tight to her overlaid forearms. This final binding forced the maid to arch her back to ease the strain on her throat. Mbane spun her around so the two British ranch heirs could get a good look at her.

The cruel back-bending posture had the additional effect of forcing the two whip-streaked chest turrets out high and proud in front of her and the varigated red and purple globes drew the eyes of both Afrikaaners. Her white pantalloons and were soaked from the bucket and splashed with scarlet blotches, making the thin fabric cling to her lithe thighs. Kyle was gratified to see a bit of the old rebelliousness back in her eyes, but she was unsteady on her feet.

“Give the wench a hand onto her mount, Mbane! The way she’s wobbling on her feet, she could use a little rest in the saddle.”

The rebellion gave way immediately to fresh fear. In the relief of surviving the sjambok, she had forgottten about the Bishop’s Horse and now she faced that new horror. Mbane dragged the babbling young redhead over to the ghastly thing waiting nearby. It was such a simple thing: a triangular plank of ironwood, sharp side up, mounted high on a pair of stout posts front and back. Years back, someone had attached the head from a child’s rocking horse to the front, an incongruous bit of whimsy on such a hideous device. A pair of stumps sat on the ground on either side and it was to these that Mbane led her. He placed her left foot on the near stump and swung her body up and over the ridge until she stood precariously on the two supports, her crotch a foot or so above the ridge. Kyle rode over and held the girl upright by her overlaid forearms so the big negro could complete his preparations down below. Small sacks of lead shot were bound tightly about her big toes with twine. They weighed only about fifteen pounds each, but she was a small girl and Kyle did not want her crippled. Still, the bitch would feel it between her thighs well enough. He would have liked to order the big Matabele to peel away the pathetic pantaloons, so the girl could ride the sharp ridge with her genitals naked, but doing that to a white woman in front of all these blacks could bring trouble if it got out. And he knew that the thin fabric would do nothing to ease the coming ordeal.

When Mbane was finished with the bags, Kyle walked his mount around to the front of the horrible frame. Melissa teetered on the stumps, her sculptured nude trunk held erect by the cord connecting neck and arms. She was an arousing sight to the young sadist, whipped and enreddened naked breasts heaving on her slim torso.

“P-P-Please, oh please, don’t do this to me,” the russet-haired beauty begged in a trembling voice. “PLEASE! You win, I’ll do what you wanted. I’ll – I’ll make love to you! That’s what you wanted! Please, just don’t hurt my poor body any more. Please, Kyle, I beg you, please don’t hurt me any more!”

The rancher was enjoying himself far too much to stop now. But for Bette’s sweet fellatio, he would probably have spared Melissa this ordeal, if only to take the edge off his sadistic lust. Watching the pretty white girl stripped to the waist and writhing under the lash was even more erotic than he had imagined it would be, but thanks to his blond companion, he could now afford to wait until tonight to rape the wench. Bette took his hand and he leaned forward to watch. He nodded briefly to the Matabele.

Mbane wrenched powerfully on the ropes and the stumps jerked out from beneath Melissa’s feet. The fall wasn’t far, but all of her weight and that of the lead shot dropped her crotch heavily on the sharp wooden ridge. There was a sound like a falling sack of grain and the wench seemed to bounce a bit, but that was only the lead shot settling. The height of the Bishop’s Horse had been cruelly designed so that the weights wouldn’t rest on the ground and all the weight centered on the victim’s genitals. Kyle saw a look of uncomprehending shock on the Boer maid’s face and then the full, inhuman pain erupted in her sex and the screams roared out across the veldt again. It was hard to believe that such strident noises could possibly emerge from such a small creature.

The two South Africans sat their mounts looking at the tortured girl. Her mouth worked like a fish’s laying on the dock and anguished groans rolled from her throat, interspersed with incoherent pleas and loud shrieks. The brutal flogging had made her pointed tits swell into two taut, empurpled globes heavily striped with numerous seeping red welts. The pretty redhead’s upper body was sweating profusely again from the effort of enduring inhuman agony throbbing through her most private and tender parts.

“What’s next for the slut, Kyle?” Bette asked. “I mean, a little taste of the whip, an afternoon sunbathing–surely the bitch deserves more?”

“Oh, she’ll be taken down when the sun sets and cleaned off. I’ve set up a few toys in the barn. She and I will play some more games tonight. I want to see if the treasure she is sitting on is worth the price she paid for it. Beyond that, I don’t know. Father won’t be back for another two months and my imagination has been busy.”

Bette reached out her hand again to cup his crotch. “I’d like to join you this evening,” she said demurely. “I think the games could be even more fun with an extra woman there, don’t you? And I can tell you all of the worst places to play with a girl…”

Kyle looked over at the blond beside him and saw the glint of sadistic lust in her eyes. Yes, another willing female could make for a more pleasurable night-and little Miss Marlborough here had a very talented mouth. “Yes, of course you can join in. It will be just the three of us. Let’s go in now, I’m hungry.”

Melissa Meuws heard enough to realize that she would still be raped and that the Englishwoman was going to help in her violation. The sharp edge caused an unendurable throbbing ache straight down the middle of her slit, feeling like it was splitting her in two. She squirmed a bit and groaned loudly in pain as the plank attacked her tender sex. Above, the sun beat down mercilessly.

* * * * *

The next five hours seemed an eternity of misery and suffering for the young Boer. The hot African sun baked the front of her naked torso, burning the pale white skin painfully. Cattle flies crawled all over, drinking her sweat and biting her skin, but the veldt wasps were even worse. They smelled the sweet blood oozing from her back, buttocks, sides, and tits. When she first felt their tiny legs scratching over the aching aureoles, Melissa instinctively tried to shake the myriad insects away, but only managed to anger them. In moments, her savagely whipped breasts and nipples received numerous fiery stings all across their sore surfaces. Other stingers pierced her tender abdomen and sides. And then, of course, there was the endless agony throbbing between her straining thighs. It felt as though she was sitting on a red-hot sword that was splitting her up the middle, it’s endless presence grinding up against her loins. She tried to bend forward to protect her tits from the sun, but the neck rope held her upright. With her arms tied behind her back as they were, the poor girl was utterly helpless to do anything to ease the hideous protracted torture in any way.

She drifted in and out of awareness as the day wore on. Once Kyle rode over to check on her and saw her eyes closed. Oh, no, my pretty, you don’t get away that easily. Without warning, he swept a couple of searing lashes over her lower back with his quirt, right across the girl’s cute sacral dimples. Melissa’s sweating body jerked madly to the cuts and a long, keening wail burst from her raw throat as she was cruelly brought back to full suffering consciousness. The uncontrollable reaction to the lash made her loins grind over the sharp edge and increase the sharpness of her genital pain. Kyle was amused to see that the cotton in front of her pantaloons was splotched with red.

“That’s better,” he said to her. “I didn’t arrange all of this for you to take a nap.” He looked up at the sun. “Only a couple more hours, bitch, and then we’ll see how stubborn you still are. Only a couple more hours before you’re taken down and allowed to rest-four hours should do it; after all, we have a rendezvous tonight, remember? You did ask me to fuck you, after all, and a gentleman never keeps a lady waiting!” He laughed and gave her one departing slash across her tortured bare breasts before riding away.

* * * * *

Her next real conscious awareness was waking up in agony. It seemed as if every nerve in her poor bare body was throbbing with different kinds of hurt. She had heard that a body had no ability to remember pain, but she now knew that to be false. Slowly all the hellish memories came back: her stripping and the ordeal hanging from the Whipping Post, Kyle burning her nipples, and then the hours of anguish sitting on the Bishop’s Horse. Even now her skin burned from the long hours in the hot African sun, the whip weals hotter lines of pain across her flesh. Unconsciously her hands roamed gently over her body, trying to gentle and soothe the sorely abused flesh, but having little success. They reached to her abdomen and she started suddenly. Her pantaloons were gone! She was now totally naked!

Melissa looked about her in sudden fear. She was in the barn she saw now. She tried to move and discovered that heavy iron manacles had been bolted to her wrists and ankles, securing her to a stout supporting post. Oh, gods, she thought, it’s not over, IT’S NOT OVER!

The chestnut-haired beauty yanked at her chains with increasing desperation as her strength returned, but she was locked in tightly.

* * * * *

The two young adults worked quickly, wrapping Melissa’s elbows up and over the top rail of the stall and then running the cords attached to her ankles out to hitching rings set into the floor. Kyle pulled powerfully on the ropes, extending the teenaged captive’s slim legs out tautly, one at a time while Bette tied off the ends to the rings. A moment later, they both stood back and stared down at the bound young girl. Although well flushed from her earlier flogging and exposure, her skin still implied the soft cream color beneath. Kyle’s eyes bounced up and down between her stirring, high-perched bare breasts and the plump pink lips that bulged insistently from her auburn pubic patch. The hours spent on the cruel Horse had irritated the Boer’s genitals to a fierce protuberance. The yawning spread of her legs only exposed that most delicate flesh even more to the grim tools Kyle had assembled.

Once again, the imminent anticipation of torturing the nude young woman stirred him and he automatically reached inside his pants to reposition his swelling sex. Bette Marlborough saw his hand and quickly moved to his side. Her small right hand reached down to cup the bulging front of his trousers. She squeezed the bulge and felt it grow beneath her fingers.

“You want this naked when you torture her again, don’t you?” she asked with a husky voice. “I want to be naked as well, with you, when you work on her again. We can have such fun together, you and I.

“Now, let me release this beast of yours. It strains to be free.”

“J-Ja. Sehr gut…”

Bette immediately dropped down to her knees in front of Kyle Blore. Her hands rose to the front of the man’s pants and undid the belt buckle. She seemed almost frantic as her fingers opened the buttons of his fly and yanked the coarse homespun down. Undergarments were rare on the Natal frontier and Kyle wore none. He groaned when the pants slid down to his ankles and his rigid manhood bounced up high and proud from his loins.

Still kneeling, she reached up with one slim hand to gently caress Kyle’s erect shaft. His eyes slitted with pleasure at the sensation as he stared down at Melissa’s splayed nude body. It was time to begin this final act of the day.

He looked down at Bette Marlborough. “It is time,” he said “How do you propose we begin?”

The pretty blond rose to stand beside young Blore, although her fingers never left his throbbing shaft. She formed a circle with her first two fingers and thumb and lightly stroked up and down its length. She felt Kyle shiver in delight at the sensuous touch. “The red-hot rods,” she said cooly. “That’s one torment she hasn’t endured yet.” She pointed with her head. “You already have tools heating in the brazier. I say start with them.”

Both Kyle and Melissa turned their heads to look at the squat bucket of coals with the dozen or so wooden handles sticking out. At their ends were round irons, slim lancets, and keen blades, all heated to a glowing orange-yellow ferocity. Bette felt his sex twitch up in her hand. “Ja,” he said.

The blond finally let him go and went to the brazier. She grabbed one of the handles and pulled out a brightly shimmering red pyramid of iron. She handed it to Kyle, who turned toward Melissa’s spread naked body. He leaned forward and touched the blunt point up into the taut hollow of her left underarm. There was a quick flash of steam and then Melissa’s scream of utter suffering rang out through the large barn. The horses stamped nervously at the ragged sound, but Kyle still slid the red-hot iron slowly down the girl’s tight tender side to the top of her hip. The iron sizzled and sputtered as it left a raw red swath down Melissa’s striped skin.

While Kyle seared the captive Boer’s delicate side, Bette shucked off her dress and camisole. Now wearing only her hose and boots, she squirmed up against Kyle’s naked body, rubbing her chest melons against his chest, and reaching down again for the young man’s bobbing sex. “Touch her again with the irons; her tits this time.”

“Ja. Hand me another instrument, Bette. Those titties of hers do seem to insist on stringent treatment.”

Bette Marlborough tugged another handle from the brazier, this one terminating with a short, hooked blade that glowed almost white-hot. She handed it to Kyle and slid up behind him, rubbing her chest against his back. She reached around in front of him, her right hand tugging the silky skin taut down toward his scrotum while the left teased up and down the rigid shaft. Keeping this young man aroused was the key to having the Boer bitch suffering, and Bette felt a hot, wet thrill grow between her thighs. Kyle was a lusty young man with a definite mean streak, but the pretty young Marlborough girl was truly evil in her relish to watch another’s pain. The feeling of Blore’s erect manhood twitching in her hands only added to the lurid tang of sadism.

Melissa’s large green eyes found the cruelly gleaming blade and blubbered as it came up towards her vulnerable right breast. It dipped low now, hanging just beneath the softly rounded bulge of the female gourd. Kyle dropped the glowing iron and then lifted it up, blade first to carve three shallow cuts into the welted undercurve. Each one was announced by a short, sharp hiss, followed by the stretched redhead’s desperate squeals of agony.

For the next forty minutes they continued that way, Kyle applying fresh red-hot implements all over the captive redhead’s sweating nude body, Bette skillfully masturbating him to the edge of orgasm time and again, backing off just in time, while Melissa could only writhe in desperate suffering as the barbarous glowing tools caressed her most sensitive flesh. Along with her deft genital play, Bette Marlborough maintained a running advisory to the young man. An infernal advisory that promised nothing but ever increasing pain to Melissa.

“Oh look-pliers! You did think of everything! Use them down here, just below where her thighs meet the slit. That’s it-you can squeeze as hard as you like-the jaws are hot enough to cauterize the flesh closed, so she won’t bleed all over. That’s it, listen to her scream!

“Here’s a nice one, a four-pronged needle-head. Just look at them glow! I think that it would work perfectly if you stabbed the tips into the bitch’s aureoles. After Mbane’s whipping-and that marvelous thing you did with the lucifers-they have puffed up quite nicely, don’t you think? Ah, yes. Listen to those wails. Hot steel on the nipples always works.

“Run this one up and down both inner thighs. Make sure you slice the blade over her labia every time. Girls just hate the kiss of hot metal on their lips. Here, I’ll lick around your glans while you burn her.

“Take this one and just hold it against her side. They’re ever so sensitive. Second-degree blister burns are more painful, but charring the skin has a unique pain all its own. Mmm, you taste good. You men like this more than fucking, don’t you?

For the miserable young beauty, the ordeal was pure hell. Under Bette’s cruel instruction, every one of her most private and delicate parts were subjected to the hateful kiss of red-hot steel. By now, her voice was raw from screaming and her lovely nude body was bathed in the shiny sweat of torment. Her naked torso writhed lasciviously in her bonds at each new touch. The marks left by the radiant tools stood out as brilliant scarlet lines over the duller reds of her whip weals and sunburn.

The dark sex play and the blonde’s imaginative teasing had Kyle Blore ragingly erect. The tiny slit in the tip oozed a steady stream of clear pre-come fluid that Bette licked away as it appeared. At the slightest caress, she could feel his turgid shaft quiver with delight. The man, for his part, had never imagined that such levels of pleasure were possible. She herself had already experienced one orgasm, although Kyle hadn’t even noticed, so focused was he between his own legs. It was time, she judged.

* * * * *

She gave her lissome play a short break, pouring both of them a glass of fierce Cape wine. Melissa gradually regained her breath, but the pause would only give her stamina enough for the night’s finale. By the time they finished their drinks, the young man’s penis had softened a little, drooping down, but still thick with blood. Bette Marlborough dipped into a jar of lard and massaged it between her palms to melt it into liquid. Then she stepped up before him and gently reached for Kyle’s sex. He groaned loudly and slitted his eyes as the beautiful nude blond rubbed her slim hands up and down the rapidly rising shaft, lubricating it even as she brought it back to full arousal.

Bette walked backward slowly, drawing the young man along through her delicious caresses. She stepped aside when he neared Melissa’s swollen labia. “Take her now, my love. Here, let me guide you inside the wench.”

She slid her right hand down the rod and gripped the base tightly, drawing the greasy skin tight. Deftly she aimed the hard purple glans between the puffy red genital lips. Kyle groaned out again as his rigid penis slid smoothly up to the hilt into the redhead’s vagina. Once she saw he was buried, Bette moved quickly back to the brazier. This time she chose two of the implements, a long-handled blade for the man and pliers for her. Handing the instrument to him, she said,”Now we continue the torture of her breasts. You work on her left nipple and I’ll pinch the other. I heard her scream when you roasted her tittie tips this afternoon. Now she’ll learn that was nothing. The bitch will likely buck a bit, but you seem to have a good seat in the saddle. Just ride her and you shouldn’t have to do much more. Come, our utensils grow cold.”

“N-No, oh please no,” Melissa babbled when those bloodthirsty words penetrated her mind. “Oh please, no more, no more. Ah, I hurt so much, so much already. Please. PLEASE! Haven’t you done enough? For pity’s sake, don’t burn my poor tits any more.”

There would be no mercy for the auburn-haired teenager. Both of her tormentors were far too excited to stop before the final pain and indignity. Kyle raised his glowing blade and started a series of quick vertical slices across the puffy left areola from outside to inside. Bette Marlborough went straight for the right’s straining erect teat, grabbing the flinty button of flesh between the red-hot jaws. Slowly she squeezed and twisted the clamp on that most tender point.

“By the gods!” Kyle gasped. At the fiendish dual torture of her aching nude nipples, Melissa Meuws’ spongy inner vaginal walls spasmed uncontrollably, the hard young muscles rippling and seeming to milk the embedded male organ. The long, imaginative foreplay his neighbor’s daughter provided already had him in a fever pitch of arousal. The sensations of the Boer’s maddened reactions to the hideous nude nipple torture were exquisite in their sadistic intensity and he felt a rising eruption surge down in his balls and then he crossed the brink and his loins exploded with pleasure.

Kyle managed one horizontal slice across the upper curve of Melissa’s swollen left aureole, adding a crackling hiss as the glowing knife slid across the sweaty nipple. He had scarcely lifted the blade for its second pass across the pap when his orgasm grabbed him. A low, rising moan came from deep inside him and the dull red torment instrument shook in his hand just above the nipple.

Bette saw him start shaking and understood immediately. She squeezed down hard, crushing the tender right teat and twisting it half away. One hand reached up from behind to lightly stroke the man’s scrotum with her fingernails. The blond felt the uncontrollable vibration between Kyle’s legs and her second orgasm ripped through her body. She squeezed until she felt the jaws meet.

Even the cauterizing heat of the red-hot jaws was inadequate to withstand this savage abuse and a bubbling flow of bright red blood started from the torn red teat. At the sight, Kyle’s final inhibition shattered and he ejaculated into the pretty teenager’s quivering vagina with savage force. It seemed as though his entire being was centered between his legs and he gave himself fully to the orgasm. Kyle Blore grunted loudly as each heavy spurt shot out of his sex. It was only a minute or so, but it felt like a delightful eternity before he stopped coming inside the cute redhead. He was surprised to see that he was draped over the girl’s naked body when he came back to the present. Kyle gradually pulled his hips back, slowly withdrawing his penis from the still spasming inner walls. The swollen head came out with an audible wet plop.

Kyle collapsed back into one of the chairs, but Bette wasn’t ready to stop yet. While Melissa whimpered behind her, the blond stepped up over the man’s still erect penis and placed the head up between her labial lips. Once partially inside, she suddenly dropped her hips to imprison his manhood within her. Madly aroused herself by the lurid sadism, the lovely young woman needed only the slightest additional stimulation to reach her third orgasm. This latest physical convulsion came quickly and Bette’s gasping grunts of pleasure reunited with the rising and falling friction of her genitals on the man’s penis to bring the young man to an unexpected second orgasm just minutes away from the first. If anything, this body-shaking paroxysm was even more pleasurable than the one before. His brain boiled over and the sweet spasms drove his prick on relentlessly, spurting his semen deeply into the blonde’s vagina. The young woman’s naked body acted like a milkmaid’s soft hands, vigorously milking the man’s rigid penis as it shot its seed fiercely inside her. The new pleasure was exquisitely delicious and he resolved then and there that his father would never return to the krall alive. Finally, the last hot squirts emerged from Kyle’s sex and he groaned a last time.

Thoroughly spent, Kyle stumbled back into his chair. Bette stood up and off him and staggered to a place beneath Kyle’s legs. Melissa continued to mewl and make intermittent pleas for pity. After all the long hours of ever increasing sex torment, the chestnut-haired girl could barely endure her prolonged naked torture. It was over now, for all she knew, but her sweating nude body still shook from the residual agony.

After ten gasping minutes, Kyle sat up in the chair. Bette Marlborough still lay on the barn floor, jerking in pleasure. “I will have Hlubi take care of her. She will carry some marks until she dies, but that won’t be for long. I want her back on the Whipping Post, fully nude this time, in a week.”

end

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Annetiie [ED]

Annetiie

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Annetiie
by Ed. All rights reserved.

Year 1670. Araby

Annetjie had been aboard a VOC–the Dutch East India Company–ship taken by corsairs between Madagascar and the Fever Coast of Africa. No one had anticipated that one of the ferocious storms that occasionally trod these waters would appear to ravage the fleet accompanying the heavy treasure galleon and leave it a wallowing cripple, ripe for the plucking. Limping down to Good Hope, the Hirondelle, Swallow in English, the fat East Indiaman had been attacked by a dozen of the smaller, more agile dhows of the corsairs. Even though more heavily gunned, her lack of maneuverability and the speed of her attackers soon had the Captain of the Hirondelle dipping his colors in surrender.

The officers knew that they would be worth more as ransom than dead and so remained calm. The more experienced sailors jumped overboard, better the sharks or drowning than alive in the hands of the Arab pirates and slavers. Later, much too late while hiding in her cabin, did Annetjie Van Doorn discover the situation. She emerged on deck and loudly cursed the patiently waiting officers before jumping over the side herself, expecting a quick and clean death.

The captain of the dhow that fished her from the tepid waters had immediately seen her value and had her chained belowdecks, as much to keep her away from his lust-crazed crew as to prevent her escape. The captains of the larger dhows, with their larger crews, took all the bullion and spices. The smaller ones had to make do with what they could fish out of the water. Usually, that only meant a few work-slaves ill prepared for a life of cruel bondage in the salt mines or cotton fields. Annetjie was a surprising and potentially valuable gift from the sea. A week later, in the Zanzibar slave market, he had obsequiously approached Hassan ibn Alamut, chief buyer for Prince Abd Ishmael ibn Muhammad, known as al-Auf, the Bad. Hassan had ventured aboard the smelly dhow reluctantly, but was immediately interested when he saw the captured Frank, although he hid that interest well. Four hours, and countless thimbles of coffee later, the deal was struck for 42 gold rupees. Hassan well knew his master’s enjoyment of the unique, especially when it was an obviously beautiful young woman. The Frank’s bright red hair and cream-white skin would earn him a most hansome commission.

* * * * *

Annetjie Van Doorn was niece to one of the Seventeen in Amsterdam, the old, gray-haired heads of the VOC. She was heading back down to the Dutch colony at Good Hope from Bombay to wed the new Governor there. Already considered a handful in India, she was, in short, a haughty pampered young woman of considerable looks, great family wealth, and a monumental temper. Wedding her off to the fat old man chosen to administer the Compangnie’s interests in such a strategic port would solve many problems. Capture by Arabic pirates would only complicate things, so the ship’s officers all avowed that she had died in the attack. So far as anyone knew, Annetjie Van Doorn was dead.

A month later, she was in Oman, largest city of the Caliphate on the Western edge of the great sea. There, with a dozen other slaves, she was delivered into the care of Fouad, the head eunuch of the Prince’s harem, for preparation.

Fouad read her in an instant, having had much experience with the various royal wives, and turned her over to the ladies of the harem. That first day was a nightmare for the proud young Dutchwoman.

As a royal Prince, Abd Ishmael maintained a respectable harem of over sixty concubines—the great Mogul, the Caliph, kept more than 200 (although the Prince followed the strictures of only having four current wives). While Fouad stood back and watched with great amusement, all sixty-some went after the strawberry-blond girl.

Annetjie was immediately stripped naked and forcibly bathed, her body rubbed with coarse sponges until her entire skin was flushed a rosy red. Then, repulsed by the luxuriant hair beneath her arms and between her thighs, the fiercely struggling girl was held motionless and carefully shaved while the other slaves tittered and laughed at her embarassment. Her frenzied struggles were quickly cut short when the girls started physically yanking her pubic and underarm hair out with their fingers. The pain brought tears to her lovely blue eyes before she acquiesed and lay still for the shaving razors. They left only a small patch of red-straw hairs up at the very top of her mons, knowing how it would excite their lord. Every day thereafter she was bathed and shaved. The head eunuch insisted on examining her, stripped naked, for the slightest flaw in her shaving.

In her first week in the seraglio, Annetjie made the mistake of trying to slap Fouad during one of his intimate inspections. The fat eunuch was well versed in dealing with proud young women and caught her hand easily. As the head eunuch, he was forbidden to inflict the serious or bloody torments on the new slaves, especially the unique ones, but he was also tasked with maintaining discipline in the Harem. “Secure the Frankish bitch to the ankle stocks,” he ordered. “The bastinado for her temerity. You others may play with her as you wish.”

The women of the Prince’s harem descended upon Annetjie like a plague of locust, squealing and laughing as they stripped Annetjie Van Doorn nude. It took only moments before her slim ankles were imprisoned within the ankle stocks and her feet stuck out from the far side, with Annetjie face down on her knees.

Her blushing face was pressed down into a pillow and her naked ass stuck up behind her. Diramar, one of the older concubines, slid her hips down until the Dutch girl’s face pressed up into her notch. Annetjie Van Doorn smelled the musky scent of female arousal in her face and tried to twist her face away. A dozen of the other harem women reached in with their hands to fondle the Frank’s bare breasts, belly, and thighs. The young Dutchwoman writhed deliciously under the concubines’ assault.

Annetjie had small, well-formed feet with high curved insteps. Unlike the majority of the concubines, hers had been protected by shoes all her life. The bastinado would prove savagely painful on such soft tender flesh. Once locked within the narrow stocks, her soles stuck up and out toward the small punishment room. Fouad looked down, holding a yard-long bamboo rod in his hands. From his first sight of the foreigner, he had taken an instant dislike for her, her white skin, her lush curves, her—her utter femininity. He knew he was treading on thin ground, but his hatred was too strong. “The red-hot needles. You know where to apply them,” he commanded.

The concubines knew what he meant. The fat eunuch ruled their lives. Sarafin, the eldest ex-wife, placed the bone-handled needles into the nearest brazier of coals. Ahmei joined her, fanning the coals until they shimmered bright red and the thin lancets glowed dully. Diramar was still trying to induce the Frank to pleasure her slit, but she drew her sex back when she saw the red-hot needles being readied. She well knew Fouad’s cruelty and didn’t want any part of her genital flesh to be between the Frank’s teeth when the first agonies began. The hulking man would beat the Dutchwoman on her tender soles, but first he wanted her to suffer a fiendish refinement that would greatly enhance her suffering. He pointed to a pair of the waiting concubines. They knelt down by Annetjie’s feet and reached for her toes. Fouad gestured again and two more spread her big toes apart from the long ones beside them, exposing the thin membrane between. Then the glowing needles darted down to drill half an inch into the exquisitely tender flesh.

The pain was sudden, ghastly, and totally unexpected and the helpless nude girl couldn’t stop her sharp squeal of pain. Fouad smiled at the break. The soles of a young woman’s feet were exquisitely sensitive and their beating a hideously agonizing torment. Adding the kiss of the red-hot needles between her dainty toes would only serve to make the coming bastinado intolerable.

Three more times Annetjie’s tiny toes were held and pulled apart to expose the tender skin between them to the radiant needles. Now aware of the threat, she was able to only gasp during the fiendish applications, but was compelled to cry out once more when Sarafin and Ahmei stabbed that fine tissue just inside her little toes and the ones next to them.

The two older wives withdrew, leaving the Dutchwoman sobbing in helpless fury, her feet throbbing with hurt from the piercing hot lancets. Then Fouad began. He raised the cane, took aim, and brought it down across both of Annetjie’s tender soles with a fierce horizontal stroke.

“HUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN! Annetjie’s sudden squeal was smothered in the pillow before her, the only thing that kept her break under wraps. Still, the fierce sharp pain that exploded in her delicate feet was beyond anything she had ever expected. It was beyond belief.

WHOCKT! WHOCKKT! WHAPT! WHOCKT! Again and again the bamboo rod flew down to strike the bottoms of the redhead’s delicate bare feet, striking with a loud crack. Fouad beat the nude girl’s soles from the base of her toes to the small round heels. Annetjie’s naked young body writhed furiously under the cruel attack. The pain afflicting her soft pink feet was beyond endurance. Her insteps reacted most to the relentless blows of the bamboo cane, but the strokes over the ball and just below the toes reawakened nerves recently burned by the steel needles, a unique added form of pain. WHOCKKKT! WHACKKKT! WHOCHKKT! Only through the most extreme exertion did Annetjie hold her grunts and squeals under control and not break down into an endless wailing aria of suffering.

Fouad delivered one dozen, then two, then three to the delicately shaped little feet. Bright red lines quickly appeared across the soft white soles from ball to heel. In spite of himself, the fat eunuch admired her strength. None of the other concubines or wives could have taken three dozen strokes of the bastinado without wailing like a babe, and them largely with feet hardened from years of barefoot walking. He had, of course, occasionally beaten a girl’s feet until blood flowed and many of the tiny bones had broken. While he would prefer to beat the Prince’s slaves on their breasts or slit, he was much to experienced an executioner to neglect a young woman’s feet. Flogging them to the blood was a level of torment he would dearly love to inflict on Annetjie, but could not. Still, he was able to stroke the tender, upraised soles with twelve more vicious smacks before having her released. He was pleased at the tears he saw running down her lovely face, but would have prefered her screams. The next time, he knew, the punishment would have to be even more extreme. The next time he went after this Dutchy bitch he would go after her most private female parts with his cruel instruments of torture. The next time she would scream …

* * * * *

Enticed by the description he had been given by his concubines and chief eunuch, the Prince sent for his new slave the very next day. The girl tottered on her whipped feet into the Prince’s presence. The Dutchwoman standing before him presented a unique vison to what he was used to. Due to their extreme youth and countries of origin, most of his concubines had olive skins, black hair, and a petite size. Annetjie Van Doorn stood taller at a good 5’ 6” or so. Her long, straight blond hair was lightly shaded with hints of red born of the sunrise. At nineteen, she was in the full flush of feminine maturity, with full shoulders, deep ribcage over a slim waist, and newly swelling hips. Her thrusting breasts were especially enticing, large and well-fleshed, like ripe round pears. Even her nipples looked different: broad disks colored like apricots in contrast to the small hard paps of the Islamic slaves.

Fouad held her with nothing but a leather collar and leash about her neck and bared to the waist, exposing her lush female form for the Prince’s appreciation. Clad in a light cotton keffiya, Abd Ishmael walked slowly about the semi-nude young woman. Her hands at her sides, Van Doorn feigned subservience until he got close enough and then nearly succeeded in ripping out his surprised eyes before he knocked her out—and this a day after enduring the bastinado! By Allah! What spirit!

He couldn’t ignore the attack, of course, and meant to see the Frank tamed. This time he had her delivered into the hands of his Royal Torturer, Ali.

* * * * *

A day later, he went down to his dungeon where Ali had hung her up by her ankles from the low ceiling chains. Ali had tied her arms behind her back and then cut away her blue silk pantalloons until she dangled naked below the waist in the torchlit room. The Prince walked around her, admiring the unique combination of curves and colors she displayed. The Dutch girl sported a delightfully pert and round pair of buttocks and in front …

“By the Prophet, Ali! You have not already touched her up between her thighs, have you?” “No, Beloved of Allah,” the hulking torturer chuckled, “although the Frankish wench’s lower lips do look that way. Never have I seen such a plump and succulent pair! And look here!” Ali reached a couple of hard, fat fingers around from behind to spread the shaved labia. Annetjie squealed in outrage and then let loose a torrent of Dutch obscenities she had overheard and learned from the VOC sailors. Ignoring her obvious insults, Ishmael bent down to look. There, at the very top of her gaping slit, sat one of the largest pearlescent pink clits he had ever seen. “They grow them big in Frankish land, do they not?” the torturer commented.

“Aye, Ali. That they do. I want this one tamed to the saddle, do you understand? Make her hurt, but don’t permanently damage her.”

“And between her legs, my lord?” Ali asked slyly.

“Make her hurt, but don’t permanently damage her.”

Ishmael took a seat to watch. Yasmin, a favored concubine attended him, serving him coffee and sweetmeats. A pretty young slave born in Ceylon, Yasmin had been raised in the colony there, a slave child to a slave on the cinnamon farms, and spoke fluent Dutch as well as Arabic. Not only was she exceptionally skilled at fellatio, but she could interpret as well.

“Begin, Ali.”

The heavy Arab started with an arm-long strap of tapered water buffalo hide made supple through hours of chewing by female slaves. The very first stroke burst with a loud wet smack against Annetjie’s poised white ass cheeks and the hanging girl’s mouth erupted with a stream of angry Dutch.

Ishmael watched avidly as Ali swept the sjambok across the Dutch slave’s bottom and thighs. Yasmin, coy and talented girl that she was, found a way to slip her hand through the folds of the Prince’s keffiya to find his swelling sex. Her tiny hand worked its preliminary magic on his manhood to make the shaft fill and grow while he watched Ali flog the Frank’s back, ass, and thighs. Annetjie’s seminude body writhed from the ankle chains and she continued to scream out a steady stream of invective as the stinging leather caressed her backside with ever increasing force.

“Yasmina, what does the wench say?” the Prince asked, using the affectionate diminitive address.

“She curses you in the name of her infidel god, my lord, I apologise to say. And she insults the Lady, your mother. Most grievously, I fear, my lord.”

Abd Ishmael’s face hardened. “Ali, I have been overly kind to this Frankish slut. A bit of a spanking and she has the termerity to insult the Calipha! I release you, good Ali. Let us both see how large you can make the soft flesh between her legs!”

The next hour was excruciating for the hanging girl. Ali was well practiced at his cruel craft. SWACKKT! SWAPPT! WHOCKKT! A couple of stinging strokes would punish Annetjie’s lower back, buttocks, or upper thighs and then he would swing a crisp vertical swipe down from behind her to slap brutally against her yawning labial lips.

WHACKK! SWACKKT! SWOCKKT! The first couple bit cruelly over the cute sacral dimples on her lower back and then the third hissed down to smack viciously against the swelling red lips of her sex. Annetjie shrieked at them. “The Frank continues to curse you, my lord,” Yasmin said.

“Bleed her bottom!” the Prince commanded. “The bottoms of her legs as well, but only puff up her labia. Let us see just how fat we can make them!”

Stroke followed after stroke after stroke, each bitter slap of leather biting the Dutchwoman’s naked flesh. Hanging upsidedown as she was, the white silk blouse drooped down to expose the girl’s lower back and belly to the strap. Even as she continued her angry invective, Annetjie squealed her pain and shame as the lash continued to kiss her most private flesh. Her reactions were especially violent immediately following the brutally intimate cuts down across her spread nude genitals.

Yasmin slowly worked al-Auf’s keffiya apart enough so that his loins were completely exposed. The concubine’s caressing hands were quickly substituted by her hot little mouth, teasing his rigid prick while he watched the pretty young Dutchy writhing from her ankle chains under Ali’s fiendish flogging.

Annetjie lasted for over an hour of the barbarous whipping before Ali detected the first genuine breaking in her voice. Still, he gave her a dozen more lashes across her back and ass and gash before finally cutting her down.

Fully engorged by watching Yasmin’s play, the Prince mounted Annetjie Van Doorn, now twitching on the carpeted floor, and stabbed into her brutally. He felt his rigid penis hold briefly at her maidenhead and then pierce through the virgin membrane. She squealed in final outrage at this intimate violation. The Dutch girl’s labial lips were hot and swollen from the strapping and gripped his rod tightly as he pumped roughly in and out of her vagina, lubricated by her virgin blood. Even as inured as he was to pain and sex, he lasted only five minutes before the incipient orgasm shook his loins and he blasted his seed into the whimpering strawberry blond with a roar.

His orgasm done, the Prince pulled his rod out to be cleansed with warm wet towels. “Take her and have the surgeons treat her wounds. This Frank amuses me. I would have her body whole for our next encounter. She is altogether too proud. I will teach her the price of spurning me!”

* * * * *

Now, ten days later, it was time for her next ordeal. It had taken that long for the last of her welts to fade back into her natural lustrious pearl white and for her feet to heal. Prince Abd Ishmael decided to have her tormented until he broke her pride in the larger punishment room of the seraglio. This would bar his chief torturer, Ali, of course, as he kept his full male equipment—necessary for certain torments, but the eunuchs were certainly skilled and motivated enough to accomplish the task. He invited a dozen of his favored concubines and older (in their late twenties) ex-wives to take part in the Frank’s agonies. They all assembled in the early afternoom, after the brutal heat of the tropical sun had waned somewhat. The Prince reclined on a pile of pillows on the raised settee in the harem punishment quarters dressed in an immaculate white silk kaffiya. Around him reclined the selected houri.

Once he had settled in and had taken coffee, he gave the command and Fouad and Ahmed entered from a side entrance, dragging the Dutchwoman between them. Annetjie stood tall in contrast to the Arab concubines who attended him, little more than girls in their late teens, most of them. The Koran forbade sex before menstrual maturity, but Prince Ishmael was not a man to wait much longer. The sweetness of the grape exceeded that of the raisin, as the old texts said. The dark, bearded noble accepted a small cup of thick sweet coffee from Caramina, the youngest, while he idly played with one of Yasmin’s ripe puffy nipples through her sheer blue silk blouse. The Frankish woman wore the blousy silk pantaloons of the harem, but a white bandeau above. A long cotton cloth that met behind her neck, crossed and cossetted her tits in front, and then tied again just beneath her shoulderblades. The bandeau exposed Annetjie’s midrif and gently flaring hips from just below the top of her ribcage to the tops of her hips. The Arab Prince admired her unusual height and her two long slim legs. But it was the sight of her stirring torso, gloriously white yet luminously pink that really stirred him.

The eunuchs had bound Annetjie into a special kind of stock. Instead of the standard pair of boards with three holes, this one, carefully carved of African hardwood, held the wrists of the victim a full span behind her shoulders while a separate clamp imprisoned her long neck. The wooden stock was designed with care to press the shoulderblades of a woman back behind her and together, presenting her bare breasts up and out thrust in front for the cruel attentions of the torturers. Now the plump female gourds pushed forcefully against the flimsy cotton bandeau, straining the thin fabric tautly.

Iron rings had been set into the ends of the stocks and these were locked into chains that dangled from the ceiling. Then the eunuchs bent down and fastened Annetjie’s small ankles into iron cuffs spreading them a full meter apart. Now the lovely Dutchy stood helpless before Prince Ishmael and his concubines. The two massive eunuchs stood to her side, awaiting the orders of their Prince. A long, low table behind them was covered with a selection of instruments, bloodied torture instruments from the bloody chambers below the palace.

Annetjie Van Doorn stood tall and proud in the center of the harem punishment room. The Prince leaned back and relished the sight the Frankish woman presented before him. She didn’t look the least bit tamed now. He didn’t know how mortified she had been at her weakness during the back, ass, and cunt whipping. She had endured that without dying, as well as al-Auf’s subsequent rape. So she was determined to withstand this next ordeal with all the pride and control at her command.

His first command came as no surprise, although its execution did.

“Strip the Frank. I wish to see her naked,” he said.

Immediately, the assembled concubines sprang up. Like a pack of harpys, they descended on the spreadeagled Dutchwoman. In moments, the squealing pack of females had stripped off Annetjie’s cotton wrap and silk pants, revealing her utterly nude before the Prince. The sun was only a couple of hours past noon and all the side doors and windows were wide open, flooding the room with a brilliant yellow light that made her nude body seem to glow from within. The Prince stared at her and felt his loins twitching and filling with pleasure beneath his robes. He didn’t know why the sight of a naked young woman, bound and exposed to the cruel devices of torment, should arouse his delight as it did, but he did not care. As a royal Prince who provided his annual tribute to the Caliph, his slightest desire was catered to by fawning subservients eager to avoid his displeasure. Prince Abd-Ishmael ibn Muhammad had earned his lesser title of al-Auf, the Bad, through the sadistic and relentless indulgence to his whims. Beyond their ability to please him, he could not care less for the bodies and lives his eunuchs broke and flayed and burned. This was as it should be.

Their sole reason for existence was to please him in whatever way he chose and more often than not he chose to have their lovely bodies subjected to cruel sexual torture before he fucked them.

Now Annetjie found herself spreadeagled and utterly nude before the Omani Prince. The naked girl shivered in fear. For the first time, her proud bare breasts were exposed to the sight and attentions of the fiendish Omani torturers. They had grown in sensitivity even as they grew larger on her chest. More than anything else, she feared torture inflicted there. The secret she had refused even to admit to herself was the supreme sensitivity of her chest globes. And now she faced fiendish torments inflicted solely on those proudly protruding parts of her body. Still, she would try to withstand the brutal ordeal he could order. Even facing the worst tribulation she could imagine, she was still too proud to surrender easily. Prince Abd-Ishmael watched the Dutchwoman writhing between the stock and chains. He made a casual gesture and leaned back for another cup of coffee. Six of the houris returned to the Dutchy’s splayed body. The eldest four dipped their hands into the fragrant oil vat while the youngest knelt between her knees. Annetjie groaned in shame as her naked body was rubbed down with oil. The youngest, chosen for her long and pointed tongue, laved up between her widespread thighs to tickle her lips and clit.

The concubines, twelve inststent hands on six giggling girls, caressed Annetjie’s nude body, greasing her with the rare aromatic oils. Their hands fondled her bare breasts, belly, and ass, oiling her naked body until it gleamed. Then the Dutchwoman felt a strange sensation between her legs. Caramina had knelt in front of her and was using the techniques she had learned to pleasure a man on the Frank’s cunt, licking and probing into her vagina with her tongue. Suddenly, her initial revulsion was turning into something much different.

Against her will, Annetjie Van Doorn felt herself responding to the incessant caressing. She was a young girl in the full flush of feminine maturity and her situation was extremely erotic. Her sex flowered and expanded of its own accord to Caramina’s steady licking and she shivered as a sudden wave of pleasure swept through her naked body. Without realizing it, her teats peaked up in the centers of her aureoles, hard and pert. Not a year earlier, she had first fingered herself to orgasm. Now she felt the first tremors of that exquisite pleasure under the control of another. “Stop!” she heard the Arabic command.

Annetjie Van Doorn looked in front of her to the reclining Muslim Prince as the houri withdrew. Caramina, the one who had so devilishly aroused her slit, took seat beside him and was now spreading his ornate silken robe below his waist. Only 27 himself, the Lord of Oman was a lusty young man, slight, as was typical of the desert-living Arab. But no doubt a man; his newly revealed sex was already rising up and filling between his legs. The Dutchwoman could not help but see his erection. It was already plump as an Egyptian sausage and growing larger before her eyes, it’s single eye straining toward her loins.

Annetjie could only stare at her captor’s swelling spear. She was painfully aware of her absolute exposure in this hideous room. But still … still, so much as she hated it, the teenager relished the effect her nudity was having on this obviously virile young man. Her upper body shook, then she leaned forward, thrusting her bare breasts and loins out toward him. The young Dutchy couldn’t help herself. After the mass fondling by the concubines, her youthful body had betrayed itself. As much as she hated herself for it, the young Dutch girl could not stop herself from relishing the effect her splayed nudity was obviously having on the Prince. Annetjie knew that she was a beautiful young woman. Before she had been carted away from Bombay, she had been pursued by every young European son in the colony. All had tried to reach her newly blossomed chest with their hands and pushed at her loins with their own. Now, helpless and utterly displayed before a healthy young Emir, she felt her sex responding in spite of her upbringing. Warm wet pulses of hot sexual arousal flooded her loins. My nude body is arousing him, she thought. I am beautiful, and my beauty is straining his manhood to the point of erupting. Annetjie spread her thighs and arched her back to stick her full tits out even further toward him. While she hated herself for it, secretly she relished the effect she was so obviously having on his exposed naked penis. As much as she dreaded the savage sexual torment she knew was about to begin, she felt an unusual warm moistness between her thighs, but she was powerless to control her surging young hormones. Stripped and stretched, Annetjie could only feel her utter nudity and helplessness before the Prince. And then her ordeal began in earnest. The small Arab girl who spoke Dutch came up before her, holding a small jar of lacquered wood in her hands.

“My lord, the Prince, enjoys your body. He especially likes your nipples and slit, as they are so much unlike ours. He has commanded that those portions of your body be made bigger.” Yasmin smiled evilly. “It may interest you to know that there are many ways to do this. The eunuchs could pierce them with the red-hot needles, but my lord the Prince had decided to be merciful and not burn you there yet. Then there is a paste of oil and ground chili pepper seeds we get from the East. Spread on your nipples and especially around your nether mouth, it burns worse than the flames, but my lord the Prince may chose to honor you with his noble shaft and the chili paste would ruin you for that.”

Yasmin opened the lacquered jar and held it so Annetjie could look inside. She saw something moving within. Then she focused and suddenly whinnied in horror, wrenching her head back. Insects!

The concubine smiled at the white girl’s terror. “Special wasps. They come from the continent. Their sting is intensely painful. They also cause the flesh to swell.” Yasmin rubbed her fingers unconsciously. Once, when she had been new to the seraglio, she had offended Fouad. The wasps had wings and he had given her the job of catching the insects within their jars and pulling them off. Her hands had been stung repeatedly by the irate bugs, her fingers so swollen that others had had to feed her for days.

Abd-Ishmael al-Auf barked an order, breaking Yasmin’s bitter reverie. She took a pair of wooden tweezers and fished out one of the tiny creatures while Fouad grabbed her waist to hold her still. Wasting no time, Yasmin presented the tweezers to Annetjie Van Doorn’s left breast. She stared down at the thing, feeling its six small legs tickling her tender pink areola. Then it struck, lancing its sharp stinger directly into the tip of the girl’s teat.

“HHHHUUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!” she grunted fiercely, wrenching back against the eunuch’s barrel chest. The densely clustered nerve ending in that delicate bud flashed white-hot from the urticating venom. The flash gave way quickly to a series of rapid pulses of no less intense pain.

Annetjie’s head tossed side to side at the agony afflicting her tender left nipple. She writhed so desperately that she didn’t notice that Yasmin’s tweezers had already fished out a second wasp from the jar. The pretty blond groaned loudly, still determined to maintain her dignity when she became aware of the insidious tickling on her naked right nipple as the wasp gripped the pointed pink bud. Then came the same white-hot pang as the diminutive lancet darted into her rosy teat to squirt its aggravating venom deeply into the tender bud.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The Dutch girl wailed. Despite her best efforts, the urticating fluid filling her delicate pap with its irritating poison wrenched the loud gasp from her throat. In moments, long moments of fighting the hideous bare breast agony, both of her naked nipples swelled up into hard, sensitive caps tipped with flinty-hard teats, both throbbing with hot pain. Ever since they had first started growing at the tips of her budding breasts, her nipples had become more sensitive with each passing year—even more so than between her legs. But bad as it was, her ordeal was only beginning.

“Please hold her tightly now, good Fouad,” Yasmin crooned. “This milk-skinned bitch has one more teat that our lord the Prince would have enlarged.”

Annetjie Van Doorn couldn’t understand the rapid exchange of Arabic, but she felt the giant eunuch’s arm tighten about her waist while his other hand reached down to spread the fragile lips between her legs apart to expose the dainty pink pearl at their apex. Oh gods, gods, not that, please not that, not that, too. Yasmin pulled a third wasp from the jar, a particularly large and angry insect this time. Kneeling between the Dutch woman’s spread legs, she lifted her wooden tweezers to present the third wasp up against the Dutch girl’s notch.

Annetjie squealed in horror when she felt the tiny legs grasping and stroking her most sensitive naked flesh and then came that hideous stabbing agony at the very top of her slit, as the African wasp lanced its sting into the tip of the Frankish woman’s clitoris. “AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRAAAAAAAHHHHHH! AAAHH, IT HURTS, IT HURTS ME SO!” NOT THERE, NOT THERE AS WELL! You’ve already caused unendurable agony in my tittie tips, but now you torment my private parts also. Oh, bedamned, you heretics, all of you bedamned!”

Caramina employed her small hands with all the deftness and skill she had learned from Yasmin to pleasure a man’s sex to play with the Prince’s rigid male shaft while he watched the Dutchwoman writhe in anguish. His dark male eyes stared at Annetjie’s nude body, relishing her bloating nipples and clit. By Allah, he thought, this infidel bitch’s body could awaken the dead! Caramina felt his surging passion and wisely eased her ministrations to the heavy rod of flesh in her hands. “Flog the Frankish wench now, Fouad, and don’t neglect those lovely plump udders of hers. I will enjoy watching them dance to the tune of your lash!”

Fouad made the thin whip pop loudly behind her and saw her cinnamon hair toss as she tried to anticipate this new threat. But the mahogany neck brace effectively prevented that. Annetjie Van Doorn could only look straight ahead at the black-bearded Prince and his female attendants watching her.

As he stood behind her, the head eunuch was entranced by the sight her breasts presented. Every other houri was petite and small-breasted. This Frankish wench’s tits were already so incredibly fat and round that he could see their outer curves jutting out to either side of her slim torso. Fouad smiled to himself. This would be a delightful task. He well knew how sensitive a girl’s naked breasts were to the kiss of the lash. If this white-skinned bitch was larger and rounder there, then she would be just that much more sensitive. He couldn’t see her nipples, but knew well from past experience how turgid and achingly tender they were after the wasp treatment. The Prince had all of his eunuchs castrated by women at the age of ten, before their genitals matured. No balm was applied; only the hideous cauterizing irons. Only a third survived and they maintained a deep and abiding hatred for women until they died. Denied forever the knowledge of orgasm, the eunuchs took their small peverse pleasures from tormenting the women given into their charge. As Annetjie displayed the attributes of her sex to a much more pronounced degree than the others, so her coming ordeal would be all the more agonizing. Fouad looked to his Prince, eagerly awaiting the command to begin.

Fouad had brought with him two of his favorite whips, capable of inflicting the most grievious pains. The first was a hyena’s tail, soaked in brine and attached to a two-foot long handle of ironwood. With this cruel weapon, he had absolute control. Sweeping across the flesh, he could slice it like a knife if he so desired. But that was reserved for executions, when the woman was condemned to be whipped to death. At three-quarters strength, the hyena’s tail would burst against the skin with a hideous force and leave a long red line of agony behind, but not break the skin. The other was similar, the soaked tail of an African antelope. This one was much thinner, starting with a little finger’s width and tapering down to a fine point two feet away. That whip was for later, when its fine control and line could be applied to a wench’s bared breasts and crack.

Abd-Ishmael ibn Muhammad raised his hand and dropped it. Fouad grinned and swept out his lash. SCRACKKT! The hyena whip cut through the air and burst across the Dutchwoman’s lower back just above her high rounded ass cheeks. WHACKKT! A harsh cut to the tender backs of her thighs just beneath. SCRACKKT! SWACKT! WHACKKT! Again and again the lash stroked the Frankish woman’s back from her deep sacral dimples to the backs of her thighs. The monstrous eunuch flogged Annetjie’s back from neck to knees with the supple hyena tail whip. Each and every stroke left a harsh red welt of burning pain behind it. The hot agony was horrible, but still she was able to emit no more than sharp gasps following each one. The slices across the tops of her thighs just below the buttocks were the worst and she was embarassingly aware of the lascivious writhing dance her nude body was performing, but was helpless to stop it.

The head eunuch next switched his attack, lowering the hyena whip to the floor and then sweeping it straight up between her straining thighs. The lash swept right up the middle of the pretty blond’s slit, applying a bitter bite to the swollen pink clitoris. “Unnnnnnnnnnnnhhh!” she grunted and her long slim legs hopped back and forth as she strived to endure the savage burning agony between her legs. SWOCKKT! Again, the fat eunuch swept his whip up between the Frank’s spasming thighs to kiss her ripe pink genitals. Again. And yet again, until four bitter strokes had caressed her loins. The flesh of her sex swelled up under the brutal whipping until it bulged and bloated, filling the notch.

Now Fouad switched to the thin antelope whip. A long arm’s span of cartilige soaked in brine to make it supple. At the end of two-feet of mahogony handle, it tapered down to a fine pointed tip. The eunuch returned to his place directly behind the splayed nude girl. His cruel little eyes took in again the sweeping arch of her spine, down from the gap between her shoulderblades to the swift concavity ending in the crack separating her plump buttocks. Slim and supple, she was, white of skin. And her sacral dimples inflamed his hatred of all things female. Given his leave, he would have whipped this splendid back until the skin ripped open and the blood ran from neck to knees. Then a good dousing with seabrine and a similar whipping across her front. He would like to flog the Frankish wench to the death—with the chili seeds up her nether holes and riding the red-hot iron saddle, but he would have to settle for this. He started with a vicious forehand stroke that carved the thin skin over Dutch girl’s heaving white ribcage, leaving a bright red weal behind.

SWACKKKT! SWOCKKT! The whip curled repeatedly around Annetjie’s bared torso, stinging her belly and abdomen. Unlike facing the whip, there was no possible warning to this fiendish flogging.

Fouad waited only a dozen strokes before sweeping the cruel lash up to caress the Dutchwoman’s prominent tits from behind. The slim lash darted around from the back to carve Annetjie’s jutting bare breasts. The slim antelope tail would suddenly appear from one side or the other and then there would be that hideous stinging pain as the tapered tip scourged one jutting bare breast or the other.

SWOCKKTT! The cruel antelope tail curled around the Dutch girl’s narrow back to caress the very middle of her breasts, biting the wasp stung right nipple for the first time. “AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! What Fouad only suspected was now borne out: the Dutchwoman could endure extreme torment to her slit, but couldn’t withstand the slightest attack to her tits. As he had hoped, the high-perched white gourds were acutely sensitive, especially the large pink nipples. He grinned. Now he would make her really sing. SWACKKT! Around from the left this time, the point accurately finding that breast’s tip and stinging the rigid teat.

“IIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

WHISSSSKT! HISSSSWOCKKT! SWICKKKT! Back and forth, back and forth, the fat eunuch flailed the young woman across her jutting naked titties from behind with the thin whip. Now, finally, Annetjie’s fierce resolve broke under the savage sexual torture and she wailed loudly after every cut over her nude breasts. Prince Abd Ishmael leaned back, accepting a thimble of Arab coffee from Yasmin and lifting his hips up for Caramina’s lascivious play. The young concubine gripped the base of his balls and tugged the skin down tight along the shaft. Her head lowered and she delicately licked about the Prince’s rigid penis and glans, teasing, always teasing and arousing without the release of orgasm. It was the Prince’s favorite form of play: To watch the whipping of a pretty young woman’s tits while another played with his manhood to the edge of orgasm.

“HEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAHHHHHH!”

SWACKKKT! Another crisp darting stroke curled around her back to leave its stripe atop the bulging curves of her thrusting naked tits. WHISSSSSSSICKKT! Hard from the right, the antelope-tail burst upon Annetjie’s jutting ripe globe. Ishmael spread his legs instinctively to better present his bared erect penis to the slave’s delicate ministrations. He groaned with pleasure as he watched the slim whip curling around to caress the jutting naked gourds again and again. At each new lash, the nude girl wrenched against her wrist bonds, frantic to somehow escape the stinging cuts over her exposed chest melons. Her shrieks of agony burst forth, loud and raw. The strokes continued to leave their cruel stripes over her tits until a full two dozen had carved the globes and Annetjie hung panting and sweating from the mahogany stocks. Finally, Abd-Ishmael ibn-Muhammad called a halt.

The Prince arose and walked slowly up to the spreadeagled nude girl, naked himself but for the ornate headress. Annetjie’s chest heaved from her recent exertions, her body shiny with sweat. Despite her pain, she couldn’t help staring at the large rigid shaft wobbling between his legs. Two other concubines wrapped silken loops around her legs just above the knees. They pulled on them, lifting her feet from the floor and stretching her trembling white thighs even further apart. After being stung and flogged, Abd Ishmael could plainly see the bloated red currant of her clit sticking out from the top of her gash. He moved his gaze up to admire the Dutchwoman’s chest. The soft creamy globes were both nicely decorated with a pattern of rising scarlet welts, several crossing directly over the paps. The girl’s naked nipples had swollen to a remarkable degree, the aureoles puffed up and the wasp stung teats bulging out hard and erect in their centers.

As he got close, the Prince reached up his hands to gently fondle the whipped bare breasts. Annetjie van Doorn gasped at the touch. His penis twitched up with delight and he bucked his hips to rub the hard plum head against the girl’s distended clit. With her legs held widely apart, there was no way to avoid this most intimate caressing of her genital teat. The man groaned with pleasure and in spite of herself the lovely strawberry blond felt a shiver of powerful sexual heat rush through her body to center in her loins and she felt a warm wetness. Her situation was heavy with lurid sexuality, utterly naked, bound, and helpless, made to endure fiendish torture on the delicate organs of her sex. Now an obviously virile young man was gently playing with those same female parts.

It was such a small thing at the moment; Ishmael’s hard purple glans pushed up against the tender inner lips of her labia, just below the bloated clitoris. The Dutch girl felt her fragile nether mouth blossom under the man’s visceral probing. She felt her genitals reaching down to capture Abd Ishmael’s stiff glans and shaft within her loins, the fierce heat of her labial whipping adding a ferocious intensity of her unexpected arousal. But then it struck. Then the stubborn arrogant upbringing tossed her into an even deeper hole.

Suddenly shamed by her tormented body’s response to the handsome Prince’s insistent manhood, she tried to wrench back and away and spat full in his face! Prince Abd Ishmael ibn Muhammad al-Auf, stepped back in shock. The Dutch bitch was so close, so close to yielding of her own will. Her sudden surge of pride both excited and insulted him. No other of his concubines would dare to refuse him this way. The challenge of breaking this Frankish bitch to his slightest whim amused him—and he could not ignore the grotesque insult she had inflicted on him.

“Yasmina, place the small brazier down between her feet and use all of your tools to keep her genitals properly entertained. Fouad, bring in Ahmad and use the whips to flog her big naked tits. Don’t make them bleed until I order it, but I don’t want the bitch to enjoy this treatment. The Frankish wench has insulted me—I want her to suffer!”

Yasmin quickly placed the small bowl of red-hot coals down between the splayed Dutch girl’s gaping long legs and squatted down in front of her. The little Arab girl carefully slid the bone-handled needles and sharp narrow blades into the small bed of coals to absorb the fierce heat. The two huge eunuchs armed themselves with the animal-tail whips and took up places to either side of the naked girl. The other concubines pulled harder on Annetjie’s knee cords, keeping the thighs apart to totally expose her swollen labial lips. Prince Abd Ishmael ibn-Muhammad al-Auf remained where he was, standing a scant meter away. Caramina glided down to kneel at his feet, reaching up with her small hands to softly play with his scrotum and shaft. “Continue the Frankish girl’s torture,” he commanded grimly.

Fouad and Ahmed began first. Fouad chose the thinner antelope whip, by default giving the shorter hyena-tail lash to Ahmed. The beautiful strawberry blond looked side to side in terror as they took up positions to left and right in front of her. She saw the cruel whips twitching in their hands and knew instantly how they were going to make her pay for her pride—they were going to hurt her poor bare titties again! She looked ahead at the standing Prince, desperately babbling for mercy, but his black eyes and insistent manhood offered little hope. The cleverly designed head and wrist stock forced her stirring striped globes to jut out proudly away from her chest, a fact used to good advantage by the eunuchs as they resumed their savage bude breast flogging.

Lash followed lash, attacking her nude upper torso relentlessly with their bitter kisses. Already beaten down by the previous breast flogging, the lovely young Dutch girl started squealing immediately under its cruel, more intensive, resumption.

Down between her legs, Yasmin pulled the first of the needles from the brazier, the keen point shining red-hot. Her tiny fingers spread the Dutch girl’s dainty labia and then she stabbed the glowing lance up into that exquisitely sensitive flesh between her inner and outer lips with a loud hiss.

“HUHHHHNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!” Annetjie groaned in pain. Her naked genitals exploded in agony at the intimate kiss of red-hot steel on her most private parts. Next came a small scalpel blade, glowing red that sliced small sizzling cuts across the Frank’s bulging pink cunt, each working closer up toward the gleaming pearl of her clit. Annetjie’s straining nude thighs tensed and quivered under the fiendish genital torture. Each and every slice cut and cauterized the plump sexual lips. Yasmin devoted her next two blades to the back end of the splayed Dutch girl’s genitals. Slicing slowly up between the wench’s thighs from the dimpled hole of her anus up between her strapped and swollen lips. HISSSSACCCCKT! The second blade made a sputtering sound as it slipped right up the middle of her straining slit until the keen point cut up to the front of her gaping naked slit. Yasmin was exceptionally well trained. As a female, she knew all the ways to hurt a fellow female to the limits of her endurance. Especially when focused on the delicate tissues of her sex. HISSSSSSSACCCCKT! Yasmin slowly lifted a fresh glowing blade up between Annetjie’s puffy labia until the red-hot tip slid up the base of her clitoris to the tip. The pretty strawberry-blond wrenched against her bonds in a vain effort to somehow escape the hellish torment, but the hardwood wrist and head stock was much too strong and the two concubines just pulled harder on their knee cords to keep her swollen genitals fully exposed to Yasmin’s fiendish implements.

Meanwhile, the torture of Annetjie’s jutting bare breasts continued unabated, lash following lash following lash across their jutting naked surfaces. The pain was hideous and the young Dutch girl could only shriek out her shame and suffering. The two eunuchs were whipping Annetjie’s protruding nude tits up one side and down the other. Every fifth or sixth carved the middles of both bare breasts to punish both of Annetjie’s achingly sensitive nipples at the same time.

“AHIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! AAAAAHHHHH! OH, STOP, STOP, STOP! PLEASE STOP WHIPPING MY POOR BREASTS!” Down between her thighs, Yasmin took a glowing red needle and lanced it slowly down the upper side of the shaft of her clit down to its base deep in her loins.

“AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! OH, NOT THERE, NOT THERE! OW, GODS, STOP BURNING MY CLIT! PLEASE, OH PLEASE, STOP BURNING MY SEX! OOOOOOWWWWWWWWWW! AAAAAAHHHH!”

And always, standing right in front of her, stood Prince al-Auf, wearing only his headdress. Caramina was using her mouth and tongue on his manhood now, licking up the bottom and sides of the rigid shaft while he watched Annetjie’s nude torture continue right in front of him. Only her skill held him at the edge of orgasm without crossing over.

By now, the pretty strawberry blond had taken more than fifty strokes across her proud bare breasts and nipples. Both of the large soft globes had swollen greatly under the hellish flogging and the once cream white skin was now flushed an angry red-purple and heavily overlaid with bright scarlet stripes. Extremely sensitive at the best of times, after over sixty lashes and the fiendish wasp stings each new kiss of the leather created an excruciating agony across her chest. Annetjie shrieked frantically and her sweaty naked torso writhed to the scant limits of her binding. The eunuchs laughed at her obvious suffering and continued their ghastly breast whipping.

Prince Ishmael had watched the young girl’s savage nude torture and was fiercely aroused from the sight. Finally he rose and held up his hand. Yasmin knew what he intended now and quickly shoved the small brazier out of the way. Al-Auf walked up to the hanging Dutchwoman. Annetyjie Van Doorn’s ribcage was heaving as she sought to recover from the insane pangs of fire still pulsing through her bare breasts and nipples. He stepped right up between the gaping thighs until the hard purple glans nudged up against her puffy red labia. Yasmin reached up between them to grasp the rigid shaft. Caramina came with fragrant oil and the two concubines anointed his sex, rubbing up and down the male rod to lubricate it. Yasmin slid the slippery head up and down against the bloated female lips and he groaned at the hot slick feel of her genital flesh. Then she positioned him just inside the vulva and he pushed all the way to the balls within her.

If Annetjie thought that her suffering would cease with the rape, she was sadly mistaken. Leaving Caramina to play with the Prince’s heavy scrotum, she went to the eunuchs.

“Continue the torture of her breasts! You whip them, Ahmed. Fouad, apply the pincers to her nipples. That should convince the Frank to give our master a good ride!”

The two brutes grinned and returned to the dangling girl’s sides with their implements. Fouad started, reaching down with the thin pliers to grip the flinty red shaft of her left teat and slowly squeeze the turgid bud. Ahmed followed quickly with a short cut to the right’s bulging undercurve.

“HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! IIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAHHH! MY BREASTS! OH MY POOR BREASTS! OH THE PAIN, THE PAIN! K-KILL ME AND BE DONE WITH IT! AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRHHHHHH! LET GO OF MY NIPPLE! PLEASE, OH PLEASE, STOP TORTURING MY POOR BREASTS AND NIPPLES!”

Fouad continued cruelly pinching, pulling, and twisting the girls tender left teat until his partner had administered an even dozen bitter strokes across the helpless right gourd. Then they changed places and the pincers sought out the other nude teat while Ahmed resumed the tit whipping.

Ishmael groaned again with pleasure. He had only to stand there with his with his sex buried inside her. Annetjie’s sweat-shiny naked body was squirming under the fiendish bare breast torture, an action that provided all the motion necessary to stroke him. In addition, the slippery inner walls of her vagina clutched strongly at his swollen penis every time Fouad squeezed or Ahmed struck. Annetjie’s powerful loin muscles contracted rhythmically from the hideous chest torment, teasing the man’s prick deliciously inside her.

A low moan began rising from his throat. Yasmin knew that meant that he was close now. She took a short steel rod from the coals and swiftly pressed it against the Dutch girl’s round white buttocks. The sweat crackled and steam rose in a puff, then the little concubine rubbed the glowing rod down over the delicate skin. The miserable captive screamed loudly and her hips lunged down on al-Auf’s shaft. He gasped at the sudden muscular compression inside her and felt the first deep stirrings between his legs. Yasmin grabbed a fresh rod and pressed it vertically into the deep valley between her taut ass cheeks, sliding the red-hot steel up and down the crack to the edge of her anus. Her shrieks rang out hoarse and raw. Fouad, back at the left side again, squeezed and twisted at the throbbing female teat with new passion, finally breaking the aching flesh. A small droplet of bright red blood oozed from the tortured tittie tip over the metal jaws. The savagely tortured girl was now thrashing dementedly, lost in a sea of relentless burning sexual agony.

The Prince grabbed Annetjie’s hips and rocked her back and forth against his loins. The motion slid her sex up and down the length of his rigid shaft from head to balls. She screamed again. Now her labial lips felt a direct friction that reawakened the countless nerve endings so recently and so cruelly seared by the red-hot instruments. He lifted his own hips a bit on every stroke, rubbing the hard upper surface of his penis against the shiny red pearl of her clitoris.

The pain was terrible, beyond endurance, both in her chest and between her legs. And still these men made it grow. The Prince shoved his phallus deeply into her vagina, sliding against her bloated clit yet again, and suddenly her loins burst with a liquid fire beyond belief. It was an orgasm, yet not one she desired. Her entire body was suddenly fiercely aware of nothing but sexual arousal, only not the pleasurable arousal she had occasionally created with her hands. No, this shattering feeling somehow coupled with her torture, making the sex pain infinitely more agonizing. The pretty Dutch girl’s screams rose in volume and stridency as the Prince pumped his shaft into her with ever increasing speed and violence. For her part, Annetjie’s nude body thrashed against Ishmael’s punishing assault.

Annetjie had lost any consciouscontrol over her body. She was lost in the throes of sexual agony and pleasure, combined with the unexpected current vigorous fucking. Nothing had ever afflicted her this way. Ishmael bucked his hips up and back, sliding his rigid shaft up and into her once-virginal vagina to the base of his balls and then back to the hard rim of his rock-hard penis. Then in again. And again. And again.

Of everyone, it was little Yasmin who read the signs and acted. She darted to one of the fruit baskets and snatched up a lemon. Slicing the bulb in half, she reached a slim arm up above the Dutchy’s horribly flogged nude left nipple and squeezed.

Drip, drip, drip, the yellow-tinged droplets fell down to splash over the redhead’s whipped left nipple. Annetjie’s shrieks rose in both volume and timbre. Her frenetic orgasm, spurred by pain, was now enhanced still further by the added burning of the lemon juice irritating her cracked tittie tip. The heavy load of pain finally broke the Dutchwoman’s resolve entirely. Too much pain, too much sexual assault.

Muhammad Abd Ishmael felt the uncontrolled spasms grow behind his balls and then suddenly erupt out of his shaft buried deep into his young slave’s vagina. The combined spastic wrenching of Annetjie’s young body under her grim torture made for a most rousing fuck. The Prince grabbed her hips and used the grasp to ram his rigid sex up to the hilt into the girl’s vagina even as he fell into the spasms of orgasm. The pretty redhead jerked madly from her chains in pain even as the young Prince burst his load deep into the Dutchy’s hot quivering cunt.

“AAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

“AWWWWWWEEE THE PAIN, THE PAIN. I CAN’T TAKE IT, I JUST CAN’T! NO MORE! OH, PLEASE NO MORE!”

The young man pumped his hips up and back, up and back, spurting his seed deeply into the hanging nude girl. When she felt the first hot ejaculation filling her sex, she finally lost all control. Annetjie’s loud, ragged squeal of utter agony ripped through the room as her body wrenched into mad spasms of pain and orgasm combined. Every last vestige of control was totally shattered and the beautiful nude girl shook, quivered, and wailed in absolute agony.

Ishmael grabbed the redheaded Frank’s flanks, sliding his hands up and down her shivering sides from tits to buttocks as his shaft surged load after load into the grasping vagina. The Arab Prince let out a roar at the unbelievable hot pleasure centered in his loins. Although it seemed like an eternity, after scarcely five minutes of staggering physical bliss, Muhammad Abd Ishmael collapsed on top of Annetjie’s hanging nude body. He rested against the Frank’s welted front, thoroughly spent.

Finally, after another five minutes, the young man pulled back out of Annatjie Van Dorne’s tight cunt with a surprisingly loud PLOP. Aided a bit by Yasmin, he moved back and dropped down on his cushions. It seemed like a natural thing, so he spread his legs as he reclined. Yasmin knelt down to clense the Prince’s slowly drooping prick with her mouth. She detested the task, but would do anything to spare her own flesh from the public breaking of his captive prisoners and so went to her task with enthusiasm. In the meantime, Annetjie hung twitching from her bonds, her sweat-shiny nude body gleaming in the late afternoon sunshine. Blood oozed from her scoured bare breasts, inner thighs, and labia. Even now, once that the active torment was over, her most sensitive flesh still throbbed with hot pain.

“Oh, by Allah! Never have I enjoyed one so much! Cut her down and care for her. Keep her body shaved and oil her skin daily. My good Fouad says that this wench’s tits are perfect for binding and suspension. I should enjoy that. Take her away. Another grape, Yasmin, if you will.”

end

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Wooden Chair [CORTEZ]

Wooden Chair

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The Wooden Chair
by Cortez. All rights reserved
Posted November 12th, 2003

‘Get your filthy hands off me…Jenny…JENNY! HELP ME!Т Samantha Lewis screamed in terror and fury as two of the Internal Security officers manning the road block dragged her from the battered hire car. Jenny Ondougu didnТt answer; two other officers had grabbed her too; thrown her to the ground and one of them had his fingers digging into her throat so all she could manage was a feeble, strangled gasping noise as she threshed around on the dusty track.

Minutes later the two women were gagged and hooded, hands tied behind their backs and in the back of a truck heading back into the city. The hire car was a distant plume of reddish dust in the opposite direction. The normal sounds of urban life slowly returned and people emerged from houses and shacks as the sound of the vehicles faded. No one looked, no-one commented; they had learned from bitter experience that it was healthier if such things were simply not noticed.

The two of them had only met two days before on the flight from Nairobi. Nineteen year old Samantha, blonde, pretty and foolishly unaware of just how dangerous this part of the world could be for someone of her age, colour and appearance could be, was just one of the many thousands of young students taking a chance to travel and explore before starting her university course.

Jenny Ondougu had been in the next seat on the long, boring flight. Thirty years old, attractive and divorced and very self-assured, she worked for on of the human rights organisations that were trying to deal with the excesses of the military governmentТs bloody and oppressive regime. TheyТd got talking and, discovering SamanthaТs predicament, Jenny had offered her a spare bed for a night or so whilst she tried to get a flight out.

SheТd also tried to tell her new friend about the dangers she faced every day. Samantha had listened politely, but as someone used to a generally law-abiding society, she simply couldnТt believe what she was being told about the corruption and sadistic brutality of the regime. Jenny had tried so hard; she had even told her about how the security forces routinely tortured detainees, using electric shocks on the genitals, especially where a woman was being questioned.

She only understood on Tuesday morning when she went with Jenny to her office, or what remained of it. ThereТd been a panicky brief and anonymous call to say they were being raided…then nothing. When they got there all that remained of the building was a blackened shell; inside there was nothing but a mass of ash and charred timbers a blizzard of scraps of burned paper swirled around in the wind. The jostling crowd was being kept back by a heavy police presence, each constable using his long cane enthusiastically and indiscriminately on anyone within range.

An old man appeared at JennyТs open window and the two of them had a rapid muttered conversation, money changed hands and he disappeared into the seething crowd. СJumoТs our caretaker. He was next door when the raid took place. HeТs taking a risk talking with the police there…it was those Internal Security bastards. He said it was me they really wanted…Т

She paused as she manoeuvred the car through the milling crowds. СLook, I know this is nothing to do with you…but, IТm sorry I canТt risk going back to the flat at present. Have you left anything vital there?Т

Samantha swallowed nervously, now all those things sheТd been told were all too real. СN-no nothing apart from clothes and my camera; IТve got my money and passport with me here.Т She patted the black bag slung across her shoulder.Т

СThank God for that, right, IТll drop you at the airport then head on for the border.Т She thumped the wheel. СThis heap of junk is hired so itТll be no loss if I have to dump it. Oh damn,Т she murmured to herself.

СWhatТs the matter?Т

СWrong side of town, itТs going to take us an hour or so to get through the outskirts but I darenТt take the main roads.Т

Five minutes later they reached the road block and capture.

Samantha squirmed and yelled, her frantic pleas muffled by the horrible, stinking hood when half an hour later she was pulled at long last from the truck. No words, just hands holding her, plus heavy breathing and smell of lots of men…then more hands; pinching and tweaking her breasts through the thin tee shirt, fondling her bottom and probing between her thighs as she was forced along at a near trot. She could only whimper and plead as she was half dragged, half carried down concrete steps then along another echoing corridor.

СNice private room for you…donТt worry…weТll be back for you soon.Т All she knew it was a manТs voice then she was sent stumbling forwards to crash into the far wall of the tiny cell. The iron door slammed and Samantha Lewis, only eighteen and a half years old, slid down the wall to curl up one the floor, sobbing uncontrollably into the hot, stinking darkness of the black hood.

СTake it off.Т In a whitewashed bare room at the other end of the underground corridor, Jenny Ondougu blinked, shaking her head to clear it as the stifling hood was roughly removed. The room was small, only about ten feet square, and empty, apart from the grinning cruel-faced men holding her and two other people who were standing waiting for her. A solid looking wooden chair in the middle of the floor seemed to be the only item of furniture. It was marked and scratched with long use, and Jenny could see that metal strips had been bolted on to reinforce the joints of the seat and legs. Jenny tried not to look at the chair because she didnТt want to think of what was to come.

Jenny knew instinctively that it was the man in front of her who really mattered, he and the slim, severe looking young woman next to him. He was in his mid fifties; rake thin with a skull-like face that seemed to be all harsh lines and angles. His wiry hair was speckled with grey, the colour almost matching the soft expensive grey of his lightweight suit. His ebony skin showed off the very pale blue of his Italian cotton shirt, worn without a tie and open at the neck.

The woman was only in her twenties, not tall but slim with a muscular, boyish figure and small pointy breasts. She was dressed mannishly, like the guards, in a short-sleeved white shirt but with a short black skirt rather than trousers. Her hair was cut close, trimmed to no more than a black fuzz that emphasised her high cheek bones and thick, full lips. In the moist heat her brown skin gleamed, shiny as polished leather. Her only touch of colour was a vivid pink gloss on her lips and nails

The man studied her through Ghandi-like glasses; small round lenses in plain wire frames. СMy name is Kipengi, Jonas Kipengi…my rank is unimportant. It is sufficient for you to understand that I can do what I wish in matters of National Security.Т A brief flicker of amusement showed on his face. СThis is Sergeant NТdaga. Please do not be misled by her youthful appearance. She has a talent for this work as you will quickly discover…her preference is to work on women,Т he paused and let his eyes rake up and down JennyТs body. СEspecially the more attractive ones.Т

The young sergeant was breathing a little heavily as the man spoke, the sharp points of her breasts showing hard under the taut cotton with each movement of her chest. Jenny Ondougu shuddered as she saw the obvious arousal, the sadistic excitement in the sergeantТs eyes at the thought that she was going to be allowed to dominate and hurt another woman…using her own knowledge of a womanТs most sensitive places to extract the maximum pleasure from her victimТs screaming agony.

СStrip her,Т Jonas Kipengi said calmly. The guards grabbed JennyТs wrists so her arms were pulled out sideways then twisted viciously forcing her to arch back, lifting onto tiptoe to try and reduce the tearing pressure on her elbows and shoulders. СSergeant NТdaga always likes to start things off,Т he murmured conversationally, СI suggest you remain still…the knife is very sharp.Т

Jenny shuddered as she caught the familiar sharp scent of sexual excitement as the womanТs body came closer. She shut her eyes, head turned away denying the touch as slim, elegant fingers grazed across her breasts. She felt a gentle stream of warm air on her ear then a soft, throaty whisper. СPretty…I like long nipples…ah; you like having your tits stroked…you want me to play with them?Т

There was a brief tug, the hiss of a knife slicing cloth and another tug followed by a sharp СsnickТ. Jenny felt the air suddenly cool on her belly as her ruined blouse gaped open then the sudden loss of support as her bra was cut through and the cups fell away from her breasts. The young womanТs hands touched her again, cradling the firm brown cones while her breath blew across their black tips. As JennyТs body reacted, her thumbs grazed the peaks of both nipples bringing them to full erection. СSee what I mean…oh…oh yes…nice, very nice…sensitive too.Т

СLeave me alone you bitc…Naaaah!Т JennyТs furious response ended in a scream of pain as the young woman used her fingers and thumbs like two pairs of pincers; squeezing the out-thrust nipples viciously.

СNo names…itТll only make it worse,Т she hissed. The fingers tightened again, this time twisting as well so Jenny gasped and bucked at the fresh, stabbing pains. СDo you understand me…you terrorist slut!Т

СY-yes.Т

The fingers released their grip and Jenny heard another soft СsnickТ as the knife sliced through the fastening of her skirt and it fell to the ground with a slithering whisper of sound. There was a pause, a moment filled by a low growl of appreciation from the two guards as they saw the rest of their prisonerТs body for the first time, her genitals emphasised by a brief thong in glossy black. The young womanТs clever, expert fingers cupped the plump bulge through the thin fabric, gently squeezing her cunt lips in a deliberate milking action that made the thirty year old executive squirm uncontrollably. Jenny Ondougu could feel the wash of hot embarrassment spreading up her chest and face as her body responded and she felt the wetness oozing from her to soak the tight, clinging panties.

СN-N-N-Naaaaah!Т

The gasp was involuntary; Jenny bucked her hips forwards as her young tormentor hooked her index finger and drew it back along the line of her slit just pressing inwards lightly to touch those sensitive inner folds, the nail setting up an exquisite, tormenting vibration as it scratched against the wet silk. Twice more, each time pressing just a little harder and the woman chuckled again.

A movement in the air made Jenny open her eyes as she caught the sharp, coppery tang of her own juices in her nostrils. The young woman was smiling at her and rubbing her fingers together, holding them close to JennyТs nose. The finger tips gleamed wet with sticky moisture. On either side the men moved and shifted, their breathing heavier with sexual excitement as they watched the outstretched woman being masturbated and teased for their entertainment.

Two more swift cuts and the ruined panties joined the rest of JennyТs clothes on the floor. Now the men could see everything; the neatly trimmed black patch of curls arrowing down to the plump, shaved cunt lips, the bulge of her mound and the way those thick cunt lips were now gleaming wet and slightly parted to reveal a tiny flash of her pink, inner flesh with every movement.

BDSMwChair01.jpg (78639 bytes)

The young woman lifted her hands and gently gripped the points of JennyТs breasts. She pinched hard again but this time Jenny bucked but clamped her lips together and said nothing. The woman smiled again, as if some unspoken challenge had been accepted. Still holding her nipples she moved to the side, forcing Jenny towards the wooden chair.

СSit down.Т Jenny obeyed. СArms over the back and legs apart,Т the fingers twisted…just a little and Jenny gasped, struggling to do as she was told. The two men holding her arms twisted them down over the wooden chair back, making her wince as a thin nylon cuff was looped over her wrists and zipped tight. More of the unbreakable nylon ties were used to secure her ankles, doubled back and tied high up just under the seat so she was forced to sit with her thighs splayed wide apart.

BDSMwChair02.jpg (74551 bytes)

With no chance to struggle and her ankles secured the two men took their time with the rest of what was obviously a familiar routine. Straps around each knee, buckled just above the joint and round the chair legs ensured her legs remained splayed wide and there was no way she could clamp her legs together and shield the gaping slit of her genitals from their obscene attentions.

She was forced to arch up, thrusting her breasts out even more when as they tied her bound wrists to the bottom strut of the rear legs then pulled the cord tight dragging her arms down behind her. Finally a single, wider strap was passed under her breasts and round the chairТs back then buckled tight, preventing her lifting clear of the chair when the torture began. One of the men tweaked the out-thrust tip of her left breast and there was a roar of laughter from both of them.

Jonas Kipengi waved them out of the way. СTime for a little talk, Mrs OndouguТ he said quietly, leaning forwards and adjusting the wire-rimmed glasses as he spoke. СAbout the organisation, names, addresses…just the routine things really.Т

СWe had permission to operate from the authorities…! Your stupid, fucking gorillas burned our records along with everything else this morning or youТd know it too.Т She tried to keep the tremors out of her voice. Like the man in front of her, she knew this conversation was futile…just part of the nasty, sadistic game they enjoyed so much.

СAh no, no not that organisation…the other one…the one that isnТt supposed to exist.Т

СI work for Kangali Aid…youТve got my papers there.Т She nodded towards the file in the manТs right hand. СThere no other organisation and you bastards know that.Т

Jonas Kipengi smiled and leafed through the file again. СThen it seems weТll have to help your memory, Miss Ondougu.Т.

СYou can fuck off you pervert! IТve…Т

СSplaatt!Т

The manТs open palm smashed into the side of the pinioned womanТs face so hard the chair scraped sideways across the bare concrete. He smiled thinly. СThink about your situation for a moment…rudeness is not clever.Т He snapped his fingers and the two guards carried a small table that had been hidden behind the door to one side of the torture chair. On the top was a mahogany box, about the size of a shoebox with two brass terminals at the back and a small brass and bakelite handle sticking out of the right side. Next to it was a loosely coiled jumble of red and black wires and some unidentifiable shiny metal objects.

Sergeant NТdaga bent over, her fingers busy untangling the wires. The man held up his hand. СBefore the Sergeant here gets to work, let me tell you what is going to happen now. YouТve had your chance but refused to give me the information I require.Т He patted the box, Сthis is my little persuader…so much more civilised than all those beatings, needles under the nails…things like that. ItТs a field telephone set…a magneto in other words. It produces an electrical current.Т

Jonas smiled and paused, relishing JennyТs expression of sick understanding. СSergeant NТdaga will attach the wires to your body and I will use the magneto to pass a current through the wires.Т He looked round at the guardТs eager, grinning black faces. СThe men like this little show…I know theyТre going to enjoy your performance a lot more than you will.Т He paused, his fingers caressing the worn and polished handle of the magneto. СEventually, Mrs Ondougu, and after much pain, you will tell me what I want to know…everyone does, sooner or later.Т The smile widened, СIТll leave you to guess where the Sergeant will put the electrodes…being a woman sheТs so much better at finding exactly the right places…Т

The young woman flicked her pink tongue lizard-like across her lips as she moved towards Jenny holding red and black wires in her left hand. Each one had a small metal fitting connected to the bared end. Jenny could see that each wire was already attached to one of the brass terminals on the back of the ominous looking wooden box. The young sergeant grinned as Jenny wriggled and heaved uselessly against her bonds; her head shaking in furious denial as she saw the fittings were electrical connectors, the kind they called Сalligator clipsТ because of their long, toothed jaws.

СOh yes, you know what these are for then?Т Sergeant NТdaga held out one of the clips and pressed the end so the jaws opened and Jenny could see the sharp, triangular teeth lining each edge. СJust right for those nice long titties of yours so letТs get them all stiff again,Т she giggled, licking the forefinger and thumb of her right hand. She reached across daintily and gently rolled and rubbed JennyТs left nipple. The terrified businesswoman arched back, muscles clenched tight as she tried to avoid the inevitable reaction but to no avail. The sergeant licked her fingers again, working the now-slippery teat so it rose and stiffened to full, jutting hardness once more.

СOh yes, plenty to grip on now,Т she chuckled as she steadied the black tip of JennyТs nipple between the open jaws and slowly relaxed her grip. Jenny arched back as brass touched flesh, her breath hissing through clenched teeth as she tried to ride the pain of those teeth biting into such a tender place then…

СNnnnnngggg! N-N-Naaah-aaaaah!Т

The half-stifled cry was forced from her in another spasm of pain as the young sergeant smiled down at her victim and deliberately squeezed the brass jaws together, pinching the nerve-laden stub in an agonising vice as the teeth bit deeper. When she finally let go little pinpoints of blood welled out along the edge of the jaws.

BDSMwChair03.jpg (73546 bytes)

Satisfied with the placing of the first clip, Sergeant NТdaga repeated the careful stimulation of JennyТs other nipple before attaching the other electrode, again pressing the teeth down into the delicate tissues so Jenny bucked in an involuntary spasm. This time, seeing that Jenny was bracing herself for the vicious stabbing pain, she pressed even harder trying to extract another stifled scream from her victim.

СWell, well think youТre a tough lady…in five minutes youТll be squealing like a baby…Т She walked away leaving the shivering thirty year executive squirming helplessly on the wooden chair. In the sudden silence, everyone could hear the racing panting of JennyТs breathing. Her head twisted to and fro as she stared round desperately, still unable to believe what they were about to do to her. Her body was filmed with sweat and the brass electrodes gripping her nipples shivered and jiggled with every breath.

All she could see round her were cruel pitiless faces, each one tense with obscene excitement. She bent her head forward and Jonas Kipengi smiled as he watched. No different from all the others, he thought, before the first time they always look down like that. Next thing sheТll follow the wires back to the box and then…

Unaware of how predictable her response was, Jenny did just that, tracing the swaying black and red wires from the tips of her breasts back to the terminals on the mahogany box. The man stood still awaiting the right moment, left hand resting on the polished top of the box…his right hand resting on the little brass and bakelite handle.

СWatch my hand, Mrs Ondougu,Т he said…and he turned the handle.

For long seconds there was nothing, just a rising whine from the box.

СAaaaaaaahhh!Т

Jenny Ondougu snapped back in a quivering bow, every muscle shivering taut as the current blazed through her nipples. No words, just a single desperate and half-stifled gasp of agony through clenched teeth as she rode the first fizzing shock. Twenty seconds…thirty…the man stopped turning the handle and she slumped down, chest heaving, her breath coming in huge gasps while thin trickles of saliva tinged with blood from her bitten tongue dribbled from the corners of her mouth.

For a moment it seemed she wanted to say something. Her mouth opened and she looked at the grinning faces round the chair…then the man turned the handle again, faster this time and Jenny OndouguТs body arched back again.

СNnnnnnaaaaaah!Т

Each time the magneto whined there was that slight pause before the woman strapped to the chair bucked into another spasm of agony. Each time she kept her teeth clenched tight as she tried to control the animal noises forced from her by the fizzing current searing through her nipples.

Jonas Kipengi nodded, acknowledging her courage…and his hand turned the handle a little faster.

СAhhhhh Naaarrrgghh…Gaaaaaaaahh!Т

Sweat drops flicked off in showers as she vibrated and bucked under the hot kiss of the electric current. This time he played with her, letting the note of the magneto rise and fall so she was twisted and arched again and again by the changing force of the shocks. Each time the current peaked she was bowed back so hard that her chest thrust out with each rib showing and it seemed as though she was deliberately offering her tortured breasts for her tormentorsТ special pleasure.

After twenty minutes, the whining song died away and Jenny Ondougu, only semi-conscious now, sagged down again, trembling violently. This time her head lolled forwards, her eyes closed to mere slits while her mouth hung open so thick ropes of saliva drooled onto the upper slopes of her breasts. In the sudden silence everyone heard liquid trickling from between her splayed thighs and dripping from the edge of the wooden seat to join a spreading pool on the bare concrete beneath the chair.

The young sergeant pushed her head back. СWetting yourself, thatТs naughty…let me have a look a moment.Т Jenny jerked back, suddenly awake again as she felt the womanТs fingers cupping her left breast.

СAaaah N-No D-DonТt t-touch meeeeee!Т JennyТs voice lifted into a shriek as the grinning woman twisted the brass clip…

СReady to talk…?Т the woman said, flicking the end of the clip with one finger. СOr shall we try somewhere else…? Her finger traced down the smooth curve of JennyТs abdomen and through the carefully trimmed patch of hair to touch the very top of her cunt slit. СPut one of those clips on this stiff little clit …Т her finger stroked the naked split…just feathering across the peak of pink flesh peeping from between the parted lips.

СOh God! Oh G-God! Oh p-please…please d-d-donТt…aaaah…p-p-please…nuh…pleeeeese!Т

The two guards shuffled closer, stroking the thick obvious bulges in their black trousers, surreptitiously masturbating at the sight of that slim, pink-tipped finger gently fretting the tortured womanТs clitoris, each caress forcing her to jerk and move even though the tiniest movement jarred the electrodes. Electrodes clamped to nipples that were now so horribly swollen that the taut flesh looked almost polished, like ripe berries held between the toothed, brass jaws.

The sergeant looked up at her shivering victim as her finger pressed and circled gently, watching the expressions of pain and growing, unwanted pleasure on the womanТs tear-stained face. She heard the manТs voice through the fog of her agony. СThe sergeant asked you a question, Mrs Ondougu…we havenТt heard an answer.Т

Jenny shook her head violently in an attempt to distract her mind from that delicate, skilful touch that was slowly driving her to the brink of coming despite the pain. СN-nothing to s-say…told you…aaaaah!Т She drew in her breath with a hiss as the edge of the sergeantТs nail just scraped the moist, exposed bulb now peeping clear of its fleshy hood. СT-told you…thereТs nothing e-else…nuh…naaaaah…aaaah!Т The sergeantТs finger flickered back and forth and the pinioned woman strained against the ties holding her down.

СA moment, Sergeant,Т the man said quietly. Jenny gasped with relief as the tormenting stimulation suddenly ceased but the gasp changed to a frantic pleading as the man continued, СI think itТs time for a change…one up inside and the other on the clitoris. WeТll see how stubborn Mrs Ondougu really wants to be.Т

СNoooooo, you canТt noooooo Pleeeeesssssseee! ARRGGH!Т

The pleas became a scream as her young tormentor jerked the clips free from her nipples; Sergeant NТdaga giggled at the two sharp СclicksТ as each one was ripped off. Letting the wires dangle from one hand she leaned over and kissed the bloody tip of JennyТs left breast. СJust you wait till these are swollen a bit more…then youТll feel it when we put the clips on again.Т She smiled and kissed the other abused stub as Jenny wriggled and panted at the thudding agony of returning circulation, a feeling that the drum taut peaks of her breasts were going to split open at any moment.

As Sergeant NТdaga spoke her fingers were was busy with the wires. Jenny realised that each alligator clip was on a push connector so it could be easily removed. This time the grinning sergeant had attached the black wire to a polished metal probe about six inches long that looked like some deformed metal penis…A curved, finger thick shaft swelling to a bulbous crest the size of a small egg, the whole thing was made of gleaming chrome apart from a small black plastic disc near the base and an abbreviated black insulated rubber finger grip below that.

JennyТs smiling torturer knelt between her knees, carefully avoiding the damp patch on the floor. Holding the probe by the base, she stroked the gleaming bulb up and down the wet lips of JennyТs cunt, coating it with a film of slippery juices. Craning forwards and staring down at her own genitals in terror, the thirty year old business woman finally realised that it didnТt matter if she gave in or not…they were enjoying torturing her too much and they were going to go on doing these obscene things to her until her body could take no more.

As the bulb pressed against the opening of her vagina, Jenny also understood why the young sergeant had been allowed to masturbate her so obviously during the torture. Her own wetness would improve the electrical contact; not just that but in her aroused state every part of her cunt, especially her clit, would be ultra sensitive. Jenny heaved against the straps as the wide bulb stretched the opening but she couldnТt resist because her own arousal allowed the sergeant to slide the probe easily up into her body.

СAaaah!Т

Just a single gasp of protest as the stretching sensation became painful then the sudden cold fullness deep inside as the metal cock popped through the ring and curved up into her body…deep enough that she could feel the pressure of that domed head against the mouth of her cervix. The plastic collar pressed tightly against the pink inner folds of her cunt leaving only the rubber finger grip protruding, and the black wire snaking out between her parted thighs.

СAnd this oneТs for that special place,Т Jenny stared at the red wire the woman was holding out to her. This time the little clip was silver, like a tiny pair of pincers. The sergeant held it open so Jenny could see the toothed front edges and then reached down and parted the dark brown outer lips to reveal the pink inner folds of JennyТs cunt. She stretched the flesh even wider, pressing down so the shiny pearl of JennyТs clitoris stuck right out. Very delicately she moved the clip until the little bulb was between the jaws then paused, stared back up into her victimТs panic-filled eyes as she slowly let the teeth close around the base of the shivering business womanТs clit.

Jenny had already braced herself but she couldnТt contain an anguished whimper as the metal points bit into her most sensitive place. The whimpers became a rapid, frantic panting as the sergeant got up and moved out of the way and Jenny saw the man touch the handle.

СNothing to say I presume,Т he said quietly, looking at the terrified face of the woman in the chair. СYou will have my dear…in a little while, you will have,Т and his hand moved the handle, slowly and deliberately, and the whine of the diabolical machine filled the room again.

СNnnnnnnnnnnnaaaarrrrggghhh!Т

This time there was no stifling her screams of agony. Jenny OndouguТs body snapped taut against the restraints; muscles and sinews showing in cruel, vibrating relief as the current sent her into an uncontrollable spasm of agony. Despite the strap beneath her breasts she arched up from the seat of the chair bucking her hips as though trying to fuck the air. Her head was thrown back, mouth stretched wide in a fixed grimace and eyes bulging out to stare blindly at the cracked plaster of the grubby ceiling.

For ten long minutes he kept the torture going. With the diabolical skill of an expert he kept her on the squealing, unbearable edge of raw agony; stopping, and then starting again immediately his shuddering victim had taken a few breaths to recover. Jenny OndouguТs screams became more and more frantic until each new turn of the handle produced a piercing, mindless squeal that was hardly human.

In the pauses the pitiless voice continued, adding to JennyТs torment with each sadistically taunting comment. СAh…louder that time…donТt forget to watch the handle…Are you getting tired, Mrs Ondougu? Oh dear I see you are…my little box never gets tired. Anything to tell me…no? Perhaps itТs time I asked Sergeant NТdaga to slide that nasty probe up inside your anus instead?

СOh Goh!…Oh Goh!…Oh Goh!….nuh…nuh….pleeeeg…pleeeeg!Т

The once elegant executive writhed against the straps, her reply now just a mumbled babble, barely audible to her tormentor who leaned forwards to hear the slurred and broken words.

СNo? But you havenТt told me anything yet…perhaps if I turn the handle just a little more…?Т

The whirring whine began again and the babble became a single demented screech of outrage as the electricity fizzed through Jenny OndouguТs clitoris and scorched the delicate inner tissues of her vagina. Once more she slammed back against the chair, rocking it back onto two legs for a moment as her muscles convulsed. At ankles and thighs and beneath her quivering breasts the ties dug deep into her flesh. Round each wrist, where she still had a little power of movement the skin was stripped away leaving a red-raw band; the white nylon cuffs now streaked with blood from her manic efforts to free herself.

СSergeant, I donТt think Mrs Ondougu is really listening. LetТs see if she pays more attention the back way…Т

СNo-no-no-no-no-no…oh no…pleeessssee…noooo…no-no…Nooooooooo p-p-pleeessssee!Т

Jenny Ondougu gibbered out her useless pleas as the sergeant wriggled the horrible probe free from her cunt. The young woman grinned at the desperation in her victimТs face as she realised what she was about to do and traced the rounded bulb across JennyТs mouth, smearing her own blood and mucus along her lips. СYou know where itТs going now…donТt you…all the way up inside…Т

She squatted behind the chair, one hand resting on JennyТs shoulder as she pushed the probe along the wooden seat and into the cleft of her buttocks. Instinctively, Jenny lifted away as she felt the probe nuzzling against the puckered whorl of her anus, but the strap held her down and there was nothing she could do to stop the slow deliberate insertion as the sergeant skilfully worked the probe deeper and deeper. Her breasts heaved and she arched out, her mouth wide in anguish as the probe stretched the tender ring of her anus almost to splitting point. The sergeant pressed harder and Jenny screamed wildly.

СToo big…no-no-no…no, too big! Aaah! Aaaaaaah! Aarrrghh! Nooooo take it out, pleeeese take it out…please!Т

Then, just as before, her traitorous body let her down. Once the widest part of the bulb was through her anal ring the probe was pulled fully inside by the immediate contraction of her own muscles, gripped as though by a hungry, sucking mouth.

СTell me about the organisation…,Т the pitiless voice demanded through the fog of JennyТs agony, Сjust tell me all about it.Т

All she could manage was a single shake of the head. Tears trickled down her cheeks as she saw him reach for the handle again. This time there was no finesse and the note of the magneto rose higher and louder than ever. Jenny Ondougu once more arched up from the chair, lifting herself from the seat so the watchers could see the wires trailing from her anus and her clit. Her whole body vibrated madly and for a few seconds there was nothing but the magnetoТs whine and the rapid tattoo of the wooden legs against the concrete floor. Then her inhuman scream echoed round the room. A scream that went on and on and on as the magneto continued its whining song of agony.

СYaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrggggghhh!Т

This time the overload of pain was too much to bear and, as the machine growled into silence, Jenny Ondougu collapsed into unconsciousness, her breath coming in short, snorting gasps while her head rocked bonelessly, chin resting on the saliva-wet slopes of her breasts.

СUnclip her and put her over there,Т there was no obvious emotion in the manТs voice, just a vague dissatisfaction that she had not yet succumbed to the persuasion of the little metal crabs. СI want her arms above her head and her legs apart so we can get at her again if necessary. Gag her and then.Т He paused and looked at the two sexually excited guards and the flushed and aroused figure of Sergeant NТdaga. СThen you can fetch that young English student…perhaps seeing someone else in the chair may loosen that stubborn tongue…Т

Samantha Lewis was huddled in the corner of the cell when the door crashed open. She was shivering with terror having spent the last hour listening to the inhuman screams coming from the room at the other end of the corridor as they tortured her friend Jenny Ondougu. Worst of all had been when the screams stopped…and she heard the footsteps getting closer.

СGet her up!Т Samantha twisted her head round inside the sticky darkness, shocked to hear a womanТs voice. She pressed herself into the corner but the hands were too strong, the pinching grip on her arms too painful to resist. Someone fumbled with her wrists then, as she felt her hands come loose for the first time in hours, the filthy bag was yanked off her head and she could see the three black figures crowding the small cell.

СRight, your turn now white girl…Т It was the woman who spoke, her voice hard and aggressive, the threat very obvious. Samantha stumbled backwards until she could feel the rough plaster against her shoulders. She rubbed the sweat from her face, trying to brush the wet, clinging strands of blonde hair away from her cheeks.

СP-please, what do you want…IТm only a tourist…I came her on Monday…P-please, check with the airline. I havenТt done anything!Т She looked up, rubbing the swollen, red marks on her wrists. СPlease let me go, please!Т

The woman and the two muscular guards just laughed. СAlways the same story, didnТt know anything, didnТt do anything,Т the woman sneered. СFirst you get searched…strip!Т

СStrip, what, what do you mean?Т

СI mean get your fucking clothes off or my two friends here will do it for you, understand?Т

СP-please, no, no please donТt make m…Aaaaarrrggh!

One of the men held her shoulder and with the other hand grabbed the neck of her tee shirt. One vicious wrench and the material ripped down the seams leaving Samantha almost naked to the waist. His hands had caught the edge of her bra so one pink-tipped breast was exposed, the brief lacy cup barely concealing the other from the guards grinning gaze.

Her hands came up instinctively.

СThwap!Т СThwup!Т СThwap!Т

The womanТs right hand flashed out smacking against SamanthaТs cheeks with three vicious slaps, right…left…right.

СLeave your fucking tits alone and do as youТre told!Т

Blinking the tears from her eyes and trying to hold back the gulping sobs Samantha Lewis let the ruins of her tee shirt fall off her arms then scrabbled at the fastening of her jeans, hands fumbling to push the tight denim over her hips without dragging her brief cotton panties down as well. Hurrying to avoid being hit again she scraped her trainers off then braced one hand on the wall as she tugged the jeans over each foot in turn. She was just straightening up when the men grabbed her wrists.

СTime to show us what youТve been hiding,Т the woman chuckled and rolled the other cup down so SamanthaТs breasts were completely exposed. Still confined by the band of her bra they were pressed together and lifted so the small pink tips jutted upwards, each framed by a small lighter triangle against her suntanned skin.

СNo, no please donТt, donТt touch me!Т

The men held her easily, sniggering at her embarrassment as she blushed red, closed her eyes and turned her head away as Sergeant NТdaga reached up to stroke the firm, full globes. All three of them laughed as she used her nails on the pale pink aureoles; scratching lightly so the tips stuck out like tiny blunt spikes and Samantha writhed and gasped at each tickling caress.

The young sergeant squatted in front of the terrified teenager and reached up for the waist band of her white cotton thong.

СOh yes…Т her voice was husky with arousal. СLook at this, boys, just like a babyТs slit…all smooth and silky…Т The three of them stared avidly at the eighteen year oldТs shaven mound and the naked, pouting cunt lips. The sergeant pulled SamanthaТs panties down, let her step out of them then lifted her cupped hand between the girlТs legs.

СAaaah…nah…p-p-p-please…aaah…d-d-d-donТt….naaaaah!Т

One finger wormed between the naked cunt lips and probed into the opening of SamanthaТs vagina so she bucked and lifted onto tiptoe at the unwanted invasion.

СSomeoneТs been up here before, havenТt they?Т The question was accompanied by a sudden jabbing movement that jerked Samantha even more upright.

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СAaah…y-yes…yes…donТt please…no, no…Т

СWell, once weТve had a little chat IТm sure youТll be ready to entertain us too…Т the finger twisted and scraped, С…wonТt you?Т

СNo, please, please let me go…IТm not hiding anything, anything at all…Т

СDidi, get rid of that…Т her finger slipped free and touched the crumpled bra still fastened uselessly under SamanthaТs breasts. The guard on her left hooked his fingers under the band and wrenched it free before dropping the remains to the floor. СRight, take her along…and keep your hands off…for now.Т The young sergeant jerked her head and the guards twisted the sobbing teenager between them and dragged her out and down the bare echoing corridor.

Samantha almost passed out as they forced her ahead of them into the whitewashed room. The two men held her up easily as she shuddered and mumbled in abject fear as she saw what they had done to the woman who had befriended her only two days before.

Jenny Ondougu was stretched up on tiptoe near the back wall of the room, arms above her head and tied by the wrists to a rope that ran through a thick iron hook in one of the wooden ceiling beams and down to a fastening on the wall behind her back. If that wasnТt enough, her legs were straddled wide apart, held at full stretch by the ropes tying her ankles to metal rings fixed into the floor itself.

Like Samantha she was naked, her body wet and slick with sweat and shiny with trails of saliva down her breasts and belly. Her strained muscles shivered and twitched constantly while Samantha could see her chest heaving with the effort of breathing. As she saw Samantha she jerked even more, eyes staring at her in shock and horror. But the only sounds she could make were a series of bubbling, snorting gasps because her mouth was stretched wide round what looked like a red rubber ball; a ball that was threaded onto a black, nylon strap tied tightly round the back of her head.

СOh no, no, Jenny, Oh God what have they done to you?Т Samantha wailed. Now she was closer she could see the signs of torture; the streaks of blood from her mouth, the way that her nipples looked so horribly sore and swollen…and the way her friendТs cunt lips looked puffy and sore too.

СMrs Ondougu has been foolish enough to refuse to help us.Т Samantha twisted round to stare at Jonas Kipengi who was sitting on an ordinary plastic chair watching her reactions, completely at ease with legs crossed and smoking a cigarette. СYou probably heard part of our conversation a little while ago.Т He got to his feet and walked over to where the young student stood trembling in the grip of the two guards. СIn a minute you will discover why she was singing so loudly.Т He smiled and stroked the upper slope of the English girlТs breast. СVery nice, such a pity though…Т

СPlease, whoever you are, this is all a mistake, a horrible mistake…IТve done nothing, nothing at all…I told her,Т a frantic nod in the direction of Sergeant NТdaga, Сtold her that IТve only been here two days…how can I know anything!

СWell now, thatТs the pity…for you. You see it is important that Mrs Ondougu tells me what I want to know. SheТs being a little stubborn so perhaps the sight of her young, innocent friend enjoying the attentions of my little persuader might make her change her mind.

СТYou…you…bastard…you canТt do this…you just canТt!Т

СI can do anything…Т and without warning he touched the tip of his cigarette to the very edge of the pink aureole capping SamanthaТs left breast.

СNaaarrrgghh!Т

СYou see…anything at all. Listen carefully, my men are going to let you go. I want you to sit down in that chair. You will sit with your knees apart, hands behind you over the back of the chair so they can strap you down all ready for our little chat.Т He moved across to where the straining figure of Jenny Ondougu writhed helplessly. СJust in case you are thinking of doing anything silly…each time you pause I will give your friend here a taste of what youТve just experienced, ready?Т

As the guards let her go, Samantha instinctively clasped her injured breast, her breath racing as she huddled forwards and stared wildly round the room. Jonas Kipengi smiled to himself, drew on his cigarette and touched it precisely to the swollen tip of Jenny OndouguТs right nipple.

The wet mewing noises became frantic and the brown body bucked insanely as he held the glowing tip against her flesh with a soft sizzling noise.

СAre you going to sit down…or shall I continue?Т

СOh God! Please donТt please donТt hurt us…pleeeeese!

Сssssssssttt!Т

СThatТs both nipples…shall I burn them again or do you think I should try somewhere else?Т Jonas Kipengi deliberately drew the cigarette to glowing brightness, tapped off the ash and held it at the fork of JennyТs body. JennyТs head threshed madly and she strained backwards trying to avoid the heat from the burning tobacco.

СPlease, no, no, IТm doing what you want please, please donТt burn her again…Т

Samantha scrambled to sit down on the wooden chair then slowly and reluctantly lifted her hands round until they were over the chair back. СAnd the feet please Miss Lewis…Т Samantha kept her knees almost together as she tucked her feet to each side of the chair

СNnnnnnnnnggggggggh!Т

This time the noises from behind the gag were even wilder as Jonas Kipengi touched the tip of his cigarette delicately against the protruding tip of JennyТs clitoris. For a moment she appeared to go completely; mad threshing and writhing so violently that the rope creaked and vibrated with the strain of each spasm.

СNo, no I said wide apart…tuck your feet back behind you.Т

At a nod from their master the two guards had Samantha strapped into position in less than a minute. Like Jenny her ankles were tied up against the base of the seat, her wrists bound with a nylon cuff then dragged down by a cord looped through them and round the bottom rail so she was forced to sit arched back offering her breasts and the naked oval of her cunt to her torturers. The two thigh straps were enthusiastically cinched tight until the flesh bulged up on each side ensuring the teenager was unable to close her legs at all. Sergeant NТdaga finished off, taking time to position the final strap right under the girlТs breasts before cinching it painfully tight to clamp her upper body to the chair frame.

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СNow, Miss Lewis…you are going to provide a somewhat painful lesson for Mrs Ondougu…Т

Samantha stared in disbelief at the sight of the gleaming chrome probe on the end of the black wire. This couldnТt be happening, not to her, it couldnТt be true it must be some disgusting nightmare…

She jerked, making the chair stutter on the concrete as the sergeant ran her fingertips teasingly along the split bulge of her cunt. Oh God it was true, this woman was going to attach those clips to her body and then…

Sergeant NТdaga gently parted the girlТs outer labia then licked the fingers of her other hand, transferring the wetness to the folds of her soft, inner lips, watching the girlТs reaction to each feather light touch. She licked her fingers again, spreading her saliva over the swollen inner lips making them even more slippery as she continued with her slow expert masturbation. Finally, as SamanthaТs hips moved against her hands, one fingertip circled the girlТs engorged clitoris and Samantha bucked uncontrollably, unable to disguise her sudden intense reaction to being touched in her most sensitive place.

The finger wriggled so the sergeantТs nail fretted under the hood and Samantha jerked and bounced helplessly again.

СD-d-donТt p-p-please…nuh…nuh…naaaaah!Т

СOh yes you like that really donТt you,Т the voice was mocking. СNow letТs see how you like my metal cock…Т

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Samantha craned forwards as the sergeant brought the domed head of the probe sliding along the wet, open channel of the teenagerТs cunt. She worked the shiny head to and fro along the girlТs slit, each time pressing gently against the tight opening of her vagina. СCome on, let the little man inside…Т

СAaaaarrrggh! No…no take it out! Please take it out! I donТt want t…Naaaagggghh!Т

The sergeant pressed harder, twisting her wrist so the bulbous head suddenly slipped through the ring of muscle, sinking deep and impaling the girl fully on the polished metal shaft. СOh yes, slides in good and easy…seems you being doing a bit of hard fucking already.Т

With the probe fully inserted the sergeant straightened up and walked back to the little table. She put on a black rubber glove and picked up the red wire. No clip this time, just the last quarter of an inch of insulation stripped off to leave the bare copper core. She walked back and knelt down in front of the chair holding the wire carefully in her gloved right hand.

The girl wasnТt looking at Jenny or her guards; panting and gasping in terror of what was to come, her eyes were fixed on the two thin black wires, following them across the floor then up to where they were attached to the brass terminals on the polished mahogany box.

СNow, Mrs Ondougu itТs up to you, all you have to do to spare Miss Lewis any unpleasantness is to tell me what I want to know…otherwiseТ He looked at the quivering, gagged figure held stretched up in that inverted Y. СOtherwise it will simply get worse and worse…for both of you. Perhaps we should let you have a sample so you can hear your friendТs singing voice.Т

He turned the handle and the rising whine of the magneto filled the room once more. As the machine started, Sergeant NТdaga touched the bared wire to the very top of the girlТs cunt slit, just sliding it in between the lips and holding it in place with a delicate precision.

Eighteen year old Samantha Lewis managed a couple of grunting noises before she arched back in the chair. Just like Jenny Ondougu, to the watchers it seemed as though she was manically fucking some invisible lover as her hips bucked and vibrated. The black wire clattered on the wooden chair seat but the probe was too deeply impaled for her to eject it despite the mad frenzy of her spasms. The sergeant skilfully kept the end of the red wire inside the girlТs cunt so the current seared through her genitals with every turn of the handle. The tendons of her neck showing like cables, the teenager stared blindly at the ceiling and screamed insanely in her agony.

СYEEEEAAARRRGGHHH! Argh…Argh…Argh…NNNAARRGGGH!Т

At a nod from Jonas Kipengi, the sergeant pulled the wire away from the girlТs cunt letting her flop down against the straps sobbing and gasping uncontrollably as the whine of the magneto died away.

СDidi, whilst Miss Lewis gets her breath back, remove Mrs OndouguТs gag would you, letТs hear if sheТs changed her mind.Т The sounds from the back of the small room became louder and harsher as the ball gag was pulled free from Jenny OndouguТs mouth.

СBassar…youfukkin bassar….tol you…there wash n-nothing…sheТs a v-v-vishitor…m-met her on the plane. Leave her lone you bassars!Т

СAh, still the same unpleasant noises, you really donТt have much regard for your friendТs welfare do you? Sergeant, attract the young ladyТs attention.Т

СSwack!Т СSwock!Т

СAaaaaaah, Oh God!, no, please please…no donТt pleeeese!Т

Samantha LewisТs head snapped up, eyes wide with pain and shock as the sergeantТs gloved hand smacked across her exposed breasts, making the full globes bounce first to one side, then to the other. Red, angry blotches bloomed against the tanned skin where the sergeantТs rubber-gloved palm had made contact.

Jonas Kipengi continued as though nothing had happened, СIТm becoming tired of these stupid games, Mrs Ondougu. Unless you tell me something, the sergeant will insert the wire up the girlТs urethra this time…she will find it particularly agonising. And remember thereТs nothing she can do to stop it…thatТs up to you.

СYyyyiiiiiiiaaaahh!Т

The girlТs body suddenly arched taut as she strained forwards in a desperate attempt to avoid the sergeantТs fingers parting the lips of her cunt once more. She squealed again as she felt the tip of the bare copper wire tickling the entrance to her pee-hole. The squeal became a shrill scream as the sergeant skilfully twisted and turned the wire, scoring the ultra sensitive walls of the narrow tube as she inserted the wire deeper and deeper.

СWatch carefully, Mrs Ondougu…youТll be feeling the same thing in a few minutes unless…Т Jonas Kipengi smiled sadistically and wound the magnetoТs handle. He kept the speed steady, listening for the girlТs animal screams to reach their fullest pitch as Sergeant NТdaga carefully moved the wire inside her urethra, skilfully extracting the maximum agony from the electric current. Each little movement of her hands brought new and higher shrieks from the demented girl as she jerked and bucked like a puppet in the torture chair, once again her hips thrusting madly as she fucked the air in her torment.

The torture only stopped when Sergeant NТdaga suddenly moved out of the way as Samantha Lewis lost control of her bladder and a thin stream of urine splashed onto the chair seat before dripping onto the stained concrete below.

The magneto whined into life again. СJust a few touches on her clitoris I think sergeant, you can put the wire up inside again in a moment…Т Grinning with pleasure, Sergeant NТdaga touched the tip of the copper wire to the little pink bulb of the teenagerТs clit.

СNaaaarrrrgggghhhh!Т

Instantly, Samantha convulsed in a single arching spasm that moved the chair a foot backwards, scraping noisily on the bare concrete. Sergeant NТdaga waited for her to relax…just a fraction…and touched the wire to her clitoris once more.

СYeeeeeeeeeeeaaarrrrggghh!Т

The wire touched and caressed the tiny bundle of nerves again and again, each time sending the eighteen year old into another muscle-wrenching spasm.

СHold it there…weТll see how she likes it if I turn the handle a little faster.Т The whine rose in pitch and the sergeant leaned forwards once more, this time pressing the tip of the copper wire into the stem of SamanthaТs clit under the hood. This time she held the wire in place as the mad convulsions started, moving her hand in time with the frantic surges of the girlТs hips and jerking muscular spasms.

СNooooooo! No, stop you fucking bastards, stop it NOW!Т The yell of protest from Jenny Ondougu cut across Samantha LewisТs piercing screams. Jonas Kipengi let the handle go and the magneto whined down into silence. The only sound in the room was the whimpering, bubbling gasps from the teenager strapped down in the torture chair.

СStop doing that…sheТs not part of this…leave her alone and IТll tell you…tell you what you want.Т JennyТs head hung down, tears of desperation and despair trickling down her cheeks as she gave in.

СWell, well…just as I thought. Right Mrs Ondougu, letТs hear what you have to tell me…

Jonas Kipengi lit another cigarette and walked across to where the woman hung from the rope. He stroked the swollen and blistered tip of her right breast, smiling at the jerk and sudden hissing intake of breath. СDonТt waste my time, Mrs Ondougu…your friend stays in the chair until IТm satisfied. And if she passes out then IТll have the sergeant here use the wire up inside you…understand?

Jenny Ondougu nodded, her eyes fixed on the glowing tip of her torturerТs cigarette.

On the other side of the room the two guards grinned at one another and furtively eased the curving bulge of their erections inside their pants. Soon it would be their turn to fuck the delightfully pink breasted white girl. A bonus for a job well done.

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Victoria And The Emir [CORTEZ]

Victoria And The Emir

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Victoria and the Emir
by Cortez. All rights reserved
Illustrated by Aries

Illustrations added on June 28th, 2003

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The three of them had been taken prisoner two days ago when the EmirТs men had attacked the caravan and massacred the rest of the expedition. Nineteen year old Victoria Standish and her two Arab maidservants, Yasmin and Fatima, had all woken to the sounds of screams and shots around them. In the confusion the three had fled out of their tent and into the dunes.

VictoriaТs guardian, the other officers and everyone else traveling with them had been killed in vicious hand to hand fighting with the EmirТs men. The girlsТ escape attempt had barely started when they were spotted and surrounded by grinning soldiers. Victoria had expected to be stripped and raped immediately but ominously, once they had been tied up, no one had touched them at all apart the occasional vicious stroke from a camel whip forcing them to keep up with the pace of the column.

Victoria suspected the awful truth of why they were been treated so well. The EmirТs cruelty, his love of torturing captives, especially if they were young, female and attractive, was well known. Sir Nigel Stokes, VictoriaТs guardian, had been so concerned about possible capture on this part of their journey that he had actually given Victoria a small revolver Сa final escape for youЕТ he had said grimly at the time.

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Staggering along, her wrists roped to the saddle of a camel, Victoria wept bitterly at her failure. When sheТd threatened to shoot the soldiers they had all roared with laughter. Then, as sheТd struggled with the safety catch, one of them threw a cloak over her head and the revolver had been plucked from her fingers before she could fire a shot. That had been their last chance and now she knew they all faced an agonizing ordeal at the hands of the EmirТs torturers.

Once inside the red mud walls of the fort the prisoners were forced down ancient stone steps to the cells. The guards held them still whilst two women, naked except for gold bracelets at neck, wrists and ankles and a cord round their waist holding a tiny white cache sexe in place between their legs, inspected the new arrivals. Their bodies gleamed with oil and they studied the newcomers with hot, excited eyes. СI am Rena,Т the older of the two women said in heavily accented English, Сand this is MeeraЕ Our Lord, the Emir sent us to see what beauty there is to entertain him this timeЕ Т

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Victoria found herself shivering uncontrollably as the inspection went on. She had heard whispered talk of the EmirТs so-called daughters; the two women who were his favorite Arab torturers, trained to use their skills to entertain their master as they took a victim slowly and delicately to peak after peak of agony. Victoria still had her wrists bound behind her but the two Arab girls had been untied and stood waiting obediently, hands clasped in front of them, heads bowed as they were circled and inspected.

Victoria, growing red in embarrassment, tried not to watch as Yasmin and Fatima let their simple robes fall to the ground when Rena flicked her fingers. She felt a sudden hot flush of arousal as she saw both girlsТ bodies were plucked smooth. She just couldnТt help staring. YasminТs cunt lips were full, their plumpness somehow emphasizing the soft inrolling slit of her cleft.

The feeling of wetness and warmth between her legs increased as her eyes flicked across to Fatima, her arousal increasing as she studied the second girlТs slim, wiry figure. Her labia werenТt as plump and full as YasminТs but the dark lips were parted so the gleaming pink slit of her inner flesh was exposed to the young English girlТs excited gaze. Victoria felt a thrill of illicit excitement as she glimpsed the erect tip of her maidТs clitoris peeping between those moist, parted lips. Despite her guilty embarrassment, the young blondeТs tongue slowly traced along her lips; her breathing getting slower and deeper as she responded to the erotic show of pretty young girls being sexually tormented by two oiled and near-naked older women.

Both of her eighteen year old Arab maidservants had deep olive coloured skin and black hair. Yasmin was the taller by half a head; long well-shaped legs with rounded hips curving into a slim waist and then up to full rounded breasts, each tipped with thick button-like nipples, a figure very different to FatimaТs slim figure and toned dancerТs physique. In contrast to her friend, FatimaТs breasts were small. Firm, sharply pointed cones capped with wide, almost-black aureoles. However, despite their lack of size, Victoria was amazed how long FatimaТs nipples had become as she was stimulated by the two womenТs tormenting caresses; the black tips jutting proudly upwards like little fingers.

The EmirТs daughters exchanged knowing smiles as the watched the blonde English girlТs fixed stare, high colour and rapid breathing. Suddenly aware of their gaze, Victoria looked away, her face flaming scarlet with shame at being caught so blatantly playing the voyeur.

Rena moved silently behind Yasmin, rubbing the hard, oily tips of her own breasts against the girlТs back then waited for the English girlТs gaze to lift once more before reaching round to finger the fuller, rounded peaks of her chosen victim. Yasmin shivered, cupping her hands to lift her breasts; deliberately offering the aureoles and their stiff tips for the womanТs special attention.

Victoria tried hard not to respond to the sight of the young maid trembling with excitement as the womanТs fingers caressed and rolled the thick stubs in a series of slow, milking caresses. It was no use; she could feel her own nipples stiffening as she stole more furtive glances at the scene being played before her and listened to the whimpers of pleasure as the womenТs fingernails scratched those sensitive tips with delicate, maddening skill.

СYou infidelsЕ so foolishЕyou have not enjoyed the pleasures of their bodies yetЕ?Т Rena smiled, catlike, from behind YasminТs back at the blushing blonde. VictoriaТs eyes followed RenaТs left hand as it traced downwards across the girlТs mound to cup those engorged, pouting lips, fingertips stroking expertly along the wet slit so Yasmin shuddered and bucked her hips in excitement. СShe likes it, see how wet and ready she isЕТ The woman abruptly left the trembling girl and, walking over to Victoria lifted her hand so the English girl could see how her fingers were already wet and sticky with juices of YasminТs arousal. Victoria flushed red once more, part embarrassment and part growing sexual excitement as she scented the strong, musky tang of the girlТs cunt on RenaТs fingers.

СOh, ahЕaaahЕ.aaaaaaah, mistress!Т A pleading, half-whispered cry of pleasure from Fatima turned all eyes back to her. RenaТs companion, Meera was squatting in front of the slim figure; one hand resting on the girlТs hip whilst she used just forefinger and thumb of the other to caress that little pink bulb Victoria had noticed nestling so prominently between the parted lips of her cunt.

Fatima shuffled her feet astride as she cried out, thrusting her hips forwards to open herself even more; displaying to everyone how the womanТs careful masturbation had made her clitoris swell and jut from its fleshy hood like a shiny pink berry. The girlТs hips twisted and rocked gently with every delicate caress; her mouth agape with soft mewing sounds as the womanТs skilled fingers stroked and strummed her towards a climax.

СSee, she comes so easilyЕas she will, again and again until her pleasure turns to an ecstasy of torment.Т RenaТs voice was almost a whisper as Fatima jerked and chanted in her own language, hips working frantically as she rode the maddening ecstasy of the womanТs fingertips. With the ecstasy building she was now squatting slightly with her knees apart to increase the wonderful stimulation being applied to her clitoris.

No words now, just the girlТs whimpering cries as everyone watched her riding Meera fingers harder and harder. After a minute or so, Fatima suddenly bucked violently six or seven times, chanting the same cries of pleasure over and over again as her climax came. Meera grinned at her companion and straightened up, finger and thumb still moving slowly inside the girlТs cunt as she milked her of the last jerking spasms of her orgasm.

Rena broke the panting silence that followed, СЕbut it is you who will interest my Lord the mostЕТ Her fingers traced across the neck of VictoriaТs high-necked blouse and the young English girl caught the strange exotic scent of the womenТs bodies; perfumed oil and perspiration mixed with the sharper, pungent scent of sexual excitement. She tried twisting away but RenaТs fingers held her jaw, turning her back to watch as Meera left Fatima to move closer.

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СThat one is already hotЕ such passion will please my master greatly.Т Victoria gasped and jerked as Rena caressed the point of the shivering English girlТs left breast; the womanТs fingers squeezing the traitorously stiff peak through the fine linen blouse and lace underbodice. СAnd youЕso proper, so correctЕbut the sight of a womanТs pleasure stirs the fire within I thinkЕyes?Т

СNo, oh God no, of course notЕIТmЕ I mean IТm notЕn-not l-like that.Т Her voice quivered as the fingers continued to squeeze and toy with her nipple. Her voice rose. СStop, stop it at onceЕLet us go. I demand you take us to your master. You have no right. YouТre animals, all of youЕ just animals.Т

Her outburst brought cruel, mocking laughter from both women. Victoria stared at the floor in fury, her face once more scarlet with mixture of anger and embarrassment. She gave a sudden gasp and twisted in the guardТs strong grip as Meera slipped her right hand, the fingers still wet from FatimaТs orgasm, boldly between the buttons of VictoriaТs long, ankle length skirt to fondle the lips of her cunt through the damp linen of her drawers!

СAaaah! Nooooo! How can you, no, no d-donТt no itsЕitТsЕits disgusting!Т Victoria shook her head, mouth open; chest rising and falling rapidly as the woman found the drawstring at her waist and wriggled her fingers inside to probe into the wet folds of her slit, applying the same teasing masturbation she had used on Fatima only moments before.

Unable to resist, Victoria suddenly gasped even louder, catching her breath as MeeraТs hand wormed further between her thighs, fondling the sensitive folds of her cunt until finally one finger slid up into the wet opening of her vagina. Virginia arched upwards on tiptoe gasping in shame and delight at this final touch. Meera crouched slightly, smiling at her companion. The girlТs seduction was complete; both of them could see how her knees were now splayed wide within the confines of the skirt, parted to allow the womanТs expert fingers to work their magic

MeeraТs hand moved more quickly beneath the girlТs skirt, one finger vibrating the young girlТs clitoris whilst two others fucked the nineteen year old blonde relentlessly. Juddering madly, her head thrown back in ecstasy, Victoria Standish gasped and cried aloud as the waves of pleasure took her to the very edge of excitement.

СC-c-c-c-canТt h-h-help it-t-t-tЕsheТs m-m-m-making m-me c-c-c-cum Еaaah, aaaaaaahЕ!Т

But, with Victoria on the brink of losing control, Meera smiled sadistically and slid her hand out from beneath the young English girlТs skirt, leaving her sobbing and jerking in an agony of frustration. She locked eyes with the scarlet-faced girl and slowly licked the sticky, glistening fingers of her right hand СLater you will taste the sweetness of our loins,Т Rena murmured, watching her companionТs tongue lapping obscenely against the tip of one finger.

СNow, it is time for you to meet his HighnessЕТ Rena smiled unpleasantly, her eyes hot with lust and excitement, СI trust you are in good voiceЕТ She looked at the flushed, panting figures of Victoria and Fatima with open excitement. СHis Highness too likes to hear the sounds of a woman in ecstasyЕ both from pleasureЕand painЕТ Her hand stroked the taut swell of VictoriaТs breast and she leaned closer to whisper. СFor you it will be pain before the pleasureЕwe will break that English reserve so you will beg to do anythingЕanything at all that we wishЕТ

Rena watched Meera delicately licking the last of the girlsТ juices from her fingertips then flicked her own fingers at the grinning Nubian guards. СNahib! Take them upstairsЕ his Highness will be waitingЕТ One of the men, the tallest and most muscular who wore a golden chain of office round his neck, bowed and signaled to the others.

Yasmin and Fatima were hurried out of the hot, stone cellar. The remaining guards seized the young Englishwoman by the upper arms. Victoria lifted her chin arrogantly dismissing RenaТs words as she was forced, struggling uselessly, up the stone stairs with the guardsТ fingers digging cruelly into crooks of her elbows.

The upstairs chamber was large and airy, pillars and a high ceiling with arched openings onto corridors at either end. More archways down one side led through to a flagged terrace with plants and a small fountain. The floor was tiled in intricate geometric designs in blue, gold and scarlet. In the middle of the side opposite the terrace, the Emir lounged at ease on a low dais, reclining against a heap of silken cushions. He was obscenely fat, overlapping rolls of brown, gleaming flesh showing under the richly embroidered robes. Jeweled rings encrusted the chubby fingers of each hand and his tiny feet were concealed by ornate, jeweled slippers.

Forced to stand in front of him Victoria shuddered as she looked at the smooth moon-like face, the small wet, pouting lips and the hot, sexual excitement in his eyes; hooded dark eyes almost hidden by the creases in his rounded features. There was no mercy or kindness hereЕ the figure lolling on the cushions might look comic but she realized instantly that the whispered stories about the cruel and perverted pleasures enjoyed by his Highness the Emir of Quatara, Lord of the Sands and self-styled Ruler of the Seven Tribes were all too horribly trueЕ

СAaahЕMiss Victoria Standish, my reluctant guest. But what can you expect when you British are foolish enough to poke your noses where you are not wanted once again.Т He paused grinning maliciously, СI am so pleased to see you are unhurtЕalthough I fear you may well come to regret your survival.Т He chuckled at the sight of the bound and shivering nineteen year old standing before him. СBut first let us see what delightful flesh we have to play withЕremove your clothes Miss Standish.Т

Without warning the cord round her wrists was cut and she stood free for the first time in hours. СWhat! How dare youЕyou, youЕ monster, you animal! You gaarrgЕ..Т Thick fingers closed round her throat strangling her, Victoria jerked and bucked, threshing madly for air. Her own fingers clawed uselessly at the black hands gripping her throat. She was almost unconscious when there was a nod from the Emir and the guard let her go.

СDisobedience and disrespect, such stupidity has earned you considerable further punishmentЕ You must realize that you have no choice in the matter, Miss Standish, remove your clothes or my men will strip youЕdo it now!Т

Victoria, still gasping and sobbing in her efforts to draw breath, gave in. Her fingers fumbled at the tiny pearl buttons of her blouse. She was horribly conscious of the staring eyes and growing sexual interest as, item by item, the heap of garments at her feet grew larger. Naked at last she tried to retain a hint of modesty by clutching the thin, sheer cotton of her underskirt against the front of her body, desperately shielding her breasts and genitals from the EmirТs gaze.

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Two of the big, black Nubians seized a wrist apiece, one of them wrenching the flimsy garment away as he did so, and lifted her arms away from her body. Each twisted the arm he was holding back against the joint, forcing her to arch forwards on tiptoe and holding her up, body stretched out in a taut СTТ displayed for their masterТs inspection.

The two women hurried forwards to run their hands over the nineteen year oldТs flawless golden tanned skin, making her squirm and wriggle so the full high globes of her breasts bobbled and jiggled with every movement. Rena licked her fingers and rubbed the pale pink tips, bringing VictoriaТs pointed nipples to hard, jutting attention once again and making the outer circle of her aureoles swell, the coral pink colour deepening with her unwilling arousal.

Her fingers twisted in the thatch of golden hairs on the English girlТs mound. СSuch a pretty colour, but my Lord desires you to be naked as his other womenЕ prepare her!Т

A wide, knee high bench was placed in front of the dais and Victoria was forced to straddle it. She had barely been pushed into position at the end nearest the Emir when the guards slammed her down onto her bottom and then onto her back. The width of the bench ensured her thighs remained splayed apart, the position of the bench deliberately chosen to afford the Emir a delightful view of the soft pink inner folds of the young English girlТs cunt and the little jutting nub of her clitoris.

Victoria gasped as a thick leather strap slapped across her belly and for a moment she thought she was to be flogged then and there. There were chuckles as the big Nubian reached under the bench, followed by the clink of metal and the thick leather gripped her belly tighter and tighter. VictoriaТs breathing became a series of rapid gasps as Nahib cinched the strap up one last notch before fastening the buckle to hold her down hard against the smooth, polished surface.

Immediately, other hands grabbed her arms, pulling them down on either side until her wrists could be tied to the bottom of each carved leg. The sides of the bench dug in to her shoulder joints as the position forced Victoria to arch her back, lifting and exposing her breasts even more obviously. Only her long, tanned legs were left unsecured but even that freedom was denied moments later when Victoria felt the pressure of strong fingers on her ankles as two guards grabbed a foot apiece.

The Emir smiled as the two men pulled the pinioned girlТs legs straight, waited for a teasing moment and then moved apart, using their strength to stretch her astride in an obscene splits. Victoria Standish was quite helpless, exposed with the sensitive core of her body and those stiff, pink-tipped breasts completely open for her torturers attentions. The Emir leaned forwards. СBlonde hair and such fair skin is so excitingЕ tell me Rena, is she wet?Т

СNo, you bastards, no NO! DonТt you dareЕno donТt touch me, no, noooo! Aaaaarrrgggh!Т Victoria wriggled wildly and quite uselessly as she saw the older of the two women kneeling in the vee of her splayed thighs

The two heavily muscled Nubians grinned and leaned back even more, stretching her legs even wider apart as RenaТs fingers stroked the gold-furred edges of VictoriaТs cunt lips, a teasing titillating caress that made her squirm and buck her hips as much as the belly strap would allow. One finger dipped into the pink folds, swirling and twisting expertly, making the girl gasp with unwanted pleasure. She held up her fingers, slippery and gleaming with the oily juices of VictoriaТs arousal. СFlowing like warm honey, masterЕ shall weЕ?Т Her fingers twirled among the glistening cunt hairs, pulling them so hard that VictoriaТs skin lifted in little peaks and she gasped with the sharp, stinging pain. Rena kept the tension as she looked at her Lord, lolling at ease on the cushions.

The Emir nodded and clapped his hands. Servants padded silently across the tiles carrying metal bowls, wooden tools and strips of fine white cotton on copper trays. One tray had a larger bowl held over a charcoal burner. The amber yellow mixture in the bowl moved and bubbled slowly, swirling like liquid toffee. The scent of lemons filled the chamber.

СYou may beginЕТ Victoria craned her head forward, peering fearfully down between her breasts, desperate to see what they were going to do to her now. Meera twisted a flat wooden spatula in the toffee-like mixture, lifted it out and held the loaded end over the triangle of blonde hair on the girlТs mound. Rena wormed one finger into the girlТs vagina as Victoria gasped and panted in terror as she felt the approaching heat of the mixture. The young English girlТs mouth opened to protest the invasion of her cunt as Meera brought the spatula down and spread the hot, sticky mixture across her delicate fleshЕ

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СAaaaarrrggh! ItТs burning meЕplease, please aaaaaah!Т The finger was ignored as the heat of the mixture grew worse and worse. Her cries of pain got louder as Meera continued to spread the lemon scented mixture across the pouting bulge of her mound and into the tender creases at the top of each thigh. Rena picked up one of the strips of cotton cloth, pressing it down onto the sticky covering thenЕ

СNaaaaa-aaah!Т

Victoria bucked violently, mouth wide in a scream of pain as Rena ripped the cloth away dragging the first swatch of the girlТs pubic hair away stick to the sugar syrup coating. As her scream died the only sound were her racing breaths as she felt her tormentor pressing another strip against the next patch of sugared hair.

Ten more times Victoria bucked and surged against her straps at the increasing pain of the forced depilation. The last two strips brought more choked and muffled cries from her as the inner creases of her thighs and the soft, delicate lips of her outer labia were stripped of any trace of the fine golden fur.

Suddenly, the grip on her ankles slackened. The English girl had just taken a single deep breath of relief when the guards, obeying a flick of the fingers from Rena, forced each leg back over her head so Victoria was doubled back, her feet almost touching the floor behind her head. They were big men and held her down easily as she screamed and writhedЕ her movements becoming even wilder as she felt RenaТs fingers teasing and tickling the sensitive flesh round her anus.

СNow you will have cause to scream,Т the woman said softly, and laughed as Meera let a thick gobbet of the burning hot mixture fall into the crease between the girlТs parted buttocks. VictoriaТs cries became a series of sobbing wails as the hot lemon-scented toffee was spread round her anus and into all the hidden folds of her bottom. This time, each sharp, ripping removal of the cotton strips was accompanied by a shriller, frantic cry from the doubled figure strapped to the torture bench.

At long last, Rena threw the final sugared cloth onto the tray and VictoriaТs legs were once more stretched into an obscene splay for the Emir to view the soft, newly stripped folds of her genitals . She squirmed and jerked even more wildly, sniveling and shivering with pain and sensation as RaniaТs fingers caressed the now ultra-sensitive skin, toying with the plump, exposed and hairless lips of the girlТs cunt. СAh yes, you will feel everything so much more now.Т Rania bowed to the Emir. СShe is ready, Master.Т

СAnticipation is the spice of enjoymentЕbut before you make the infidel sing with pleasure there is the matter of her disobedience. Nahib,Т the big Nubian padded across to salaam respectfully in front of his master, СI would have her feel the caress of the SerpentТs Tongue.Т He paused and studied the way VictoriaТs body was strapped down; how her firm young breasts were thrust out and upwards, their pink tips jutting towards the ornate ceiling of the chamber, and how exposed and inviting her newly plucked genitals were with her legs held wide by his men. СPunish those places she sought to conceal from us so rudelyЕТ

Rena twisted her fingers in VictoriaТs hair and forced her head round as Nahib padded back with something swinging from his right hand. СLook, English bitchЕsee what your pride has brought you!Т She waited for Victoria to look at the black leather blade the massively muscled guard was holding. The horrible thing the Emir had called the СSerpentТs TongueТ was about three feet long and shaped like a slim, elongated leaf attached to a wooden handle that was bound with silver wire. The leather blade was thick, but well oiled so it flexed and swayed with every movement of NahibТs hand.

An ornate pattern of holes was pierced down the length of the blade. Rena released her grip on VictoriaТs hair and lifted it to show the shivering girl how the SerpentТs Tongue got its name. She pressed against the supple leather so the two sides parted, revealing how the blade was slit for the last six inches. СAcross your bottom the kiss of the Tongue is like liquid fireЕbut for you it will be worseЕmuch worseЕТ

Victoria eyes widened in horror as she saw how the split ends moved in tormentorТs hands, the colour draining from her cheeks as she understood the awful meaning of the EmirТs words. СOh God, no, no you canТt, no itТs inhuman, you monsterЕnoooooo!Т

Rena traced her nails over the swell of VictoriaТs right breast, circling her nipple so it stiffened into a hard, sharp peak. СFirst here and thenЕТ Her fingers trailed down to the naked lips of her cunt, Сand then here so my Lord may watch as you pay for your earlier insult with your agonyЕТ

At another unseen signal from the Emir Rena stripped the minute thong away from her own oiled cunt before straddling the bench to sit behind the pinioned girl. She stroked VictoriaТs temples. СFirst your breastsЕ then your agony will pleasure me as Nahib uses the Tongue between your legs. Now watch your punishment beginЕТ

СThwapp!Т

No warning, just a single whistling swish as the leather blade sliced down to slam across the pink circles of VictoriaТs exposed aureoles with a flat, wet noise that echoed round the pillared hall. The breath exploded from the girlТs mouth as she reared up against her straps, the two guards fighting to hold her legs still as she convulsed in wordless agony. Her eyes bulged wide and her mouth formed an O as she fought to drag air back into her lungs. And as the searing pain built upЕ VictoriaТs first scream rang out.

СNaaaaaaaggggh!Т

СTen more like that will do, Nahib,Т the EmirТs voice cut through the whimpering sobs as Victoria tried to ride the blazing pain of that first stroke. СBut slowly Nahib, slowlyЕlet her feel each one fullyЕafter all anticipation makes things so much sweeterЕI find.Т

СThwapp!Т СThwappТ! СThwapp!Т

СNuhЕnaaaaghЕnaaaaaarghЕNAH! NAAAH! NAAARRRGGGHH!Т

Victoria Standish screamed and gibbered in vain as each stroke of the leather tongue flayed her breasts and their tender pink tips to fiery redness. After the first five strokes, Nahib walked round to the other side of the bench to ensure that the devilish slit end nipped and pinched each nipple equally. The girlТs body writhed against the straps and cruel hands holding her down but her tormentors were too strong; too experienced in the application of such punishments to allow her a momentТs respite. Besides, all were well aware of the dread penalties that awaited them too if they failed to do their masterТs bidding.

A pause and the wild screams became a gasping gabbling series of pleas as Nahib stretched lazily at the end of the first ten strokes. Rena brought a fresh series of high pitched squeals from her as she scratched her nails over the throbbing red-flushed globes of VictoriaТs breasts. СShe will not be so eager to insult you again, Lord,Т she said as she pinched the taut swollen tips of the girlТs nipples.

СNow you have felt the kiss of my little serpent on you breastsЕ Nahib will give you a lesson in true obedienceЕТ The Emir grinned at the eager expression on RenaТs face. СOh yes, my hot oneЕyou may ride her face this timeЕТ As he spoke, Nahib moved to the end of the bench and the two guards holding VictoriaТs feet brought her legs back and out so the split oval pouch of her cunt and the brown rosette of her anus were turned upward and held open for the scalding kiss of the tongue.

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СScream well for me English girl, Rena murmured as she lifted her self and edges forwards until she was squatting astride the girlТs face. To steady herself she brought her hands forward and gripped the girlТs breasts, the sharp nails digging deep into the hot, scarlet flesh. As the pain of RenaТs touch ripped through her, VictoriaТs mouth opened in a wide O of agonyЕbut any scream was muffled before it could be uttered as her tormentor sat down, pressing the wet, oily lips of her cunt across the girlТs nose and mouth.

СBeat her Nahib, beat her that I may feel the pleasure of her agonyЕТ Nahib whipped his hand down and the leather blade hissed down to snap viciously against the newly-plucked and still sensitive flesh of the girlТs cunt lips.

СSplaaaat!Т

The figure on the bench jerked wildly and a long muffled wail bubbled out from between RenaТs thighs. Not to be left out, Meera stood behind her friend, gently caressing her glistening breasts as Rena shivered in delight as the girlТs cries and writhing lips worked and stimulated her clitoris.

СMMmmmmmmmmmfffffffff!Т

The beating continued remorselessly, each stroke bringing even more frantic movement from the pinioned girl; and each stroke increasing the stimulation as VictoriaТs agony brought Rena to the bring of coming. Her hips bucked madly and, for a few moments Victoria was quite unable to breathe at all as Rena pressed down harder and harder against the girlТs face. But she was too experienced, too skilful in the ways of torture to allow her victim an easy escape into unconsciousness. She lifted slightly, her fingers twisting and pinching the girlТs whipped teats and that fresh series of screaming spasms was enough to tip her over the edge.

Sated for the moment she eased back onto the bench, resting against MeeraТs legs. Both of them smiled, catlike in their cruel pleasure, as the hall echoed with the smack of the last three strokes of the tongue and wild, unmuffled screams of VictoriaТs continuing agony.

The Emir clapped his hands in delight as Nahib wiped the moisture from the leather blade and bowed to his master. СExcellent, excellentЕuntie herЕТ

Victoria was released and forced to her feet, wrists gripped by the guards so she was unable to soothe the blazing agony between her legs or the throbbing, burning pain in her breasts. СOh God, y-y-you devilЕyou monster! You will burn in hell for thisЕLET ME GOOOO!Т

Victoria StandishТs yell of rage was greeted by guffaws of laughter from her tormentors. The Emir raised one hand and silence fell. СMiss StandishЕ that was simply a lesson in manners. I assure you there is a much longer ordeal awaiting you now.Т He looked across to where other guards were holding VictoriaТs two maids so they could watch everything that had been happening to their mistress. СSecure her first.Т

Instantly, VictoriaТs wrists were brought together and a thin rawhide strap wrapped round and round to bind them together. A rope with a metal hook on the end was lowered from the ceiling and the hook slipped through the wrist tie. The guards released their hold and Victoria gasped in shock as her arms were hoisted into the air. She scrabbled for balance but the remorseless pull on her arms continued until she was at full stretch and balanced on the balls of her feet.

СNow, Miss Standish, since you do not seem to understand your position hereЕRena and Meera will demonstrate their skills on your two maids. You will watchЕand learn before it is your turn to provide the entertainment.Т

СY-y-youЕТ

СЕI suggest you say nothing, nothing at all. And do not think to spare them by looking away. If you do that their agony will so much worseЕas will yours.Т

He looked at the two maids for long moments. СThat one,Т he pointed at Yasmin, Сlet us hear how she enjoys a taste of the bastinadoЕТ

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How Much She Can Take 1 [CORTEZ]

How Much She Can Take 1

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How much she can take – 1
by Cortez. All rights reserved
Posted July 27th, 2004

‘The remote compound had been built in colonial times as a small, walled police post to uphold authority in a turbulent area. It was still secure and private behind those solid walls, despite the peeling plaster and the neglect of years. Now it served another purpose; although all signs and notices were gone, deliberately removed because officially the building no longer existed. Publicity was the last thing the regime wanted for the obscene things that now went on within the thick walls in the name of Internal Security.

Locals knew it as a place to avoid…for anyone who wished to remain healthy. Guards apart, the only visitors arrived in the careful anonymity of government cars, powerful black Mercedes with darkened windows. Officials and their guests rode in air-conditioned comfort whilst their victims, usually bound and hooded travelled inside the trunk. Occasionally the victims might be men, but not often… in this place most of the involuntary guests were women.

Many were young and most students, although not all. Among the others were white farmer’s wives or daughters, inquisitive aid workers and outspoken nurses; not forgetting the occasional journalist who thought the rule of law, human rights and civilised behaviour was protection enough…all deluded by the assumption that such things wouldn’t…or couldn’t…happen to them.

One of those foolish enough to believe those lies was Susan Brown. A citizen, although English by birth, she’d been brought up by an aunt living on a remote farm after her parents were killed in a minor local uprising. Recently she’d dropped out of her course at the country’s main university and, ignoring both advice and common sense, had begun working for one of the many volunteer human rights organisations in the city.

Nineteen years old, she usually disguised a beautifully toned and curved figure beneath the inevitable student uniform of jeans and loose-fitting tee shirts. Her black hair was cut short; in a simple but severe style that required minimum looking after.

This particular afternoon that figure was all too obviously displayed as she stood alone, head swathed in a black cotton hood, facing the blazing lights in the sweltering interrogation room inside that sinister compound. Her arms were behind her, elbows strapped tightly together bracing her shoulders back and forcing her to thrust her firm, high breasts out even more prominently. She swayed to and fro in the stinking darkness, trying to balance; trying to ignore the fiery pain in her bottom, trying not to give into to the rising shame and terror that was threatening to overwhelm her.

Susan Brown was naked. Under the lights her tanned golden skin glistened; covered in droplets of sweat in the room’s airless heat. Blotchy red marks from gripping fingers and pawing hands showed all over her body, especially her breasts. Her nipples were taut and swollen, already bruised and throbbing painfully from the attentions of cruel, pinching fingers.

Those marks were not the only signs of the ill-treatment she had already received. A criss-cross network of angry red weals, some dotted with little beads of fresh blood, laced the taut curves of her buttocks and the tops of her legs. The carefully trimmed strip of black fur on her mound, the tops of her thighs and the shaved, engorged lips of her cunt were glazed with a sticky mixture of semen and her own juices.

Standing there, fighting for breath under the stinking black cloth, Susan knew there were men watching her…she could hear muffled sounds; the scrape of chairs, the sounds of heavy breathing interspersed with coarse chuckles and obscene comments about her body and the obvious evidence of her recent fucking. She could also smell the stink of cigarette smoke and the hot, rank odour of male sexual arousal and excitement coming from the darkness in front of her.

She jerked at the sound of her tormentor’s voice close to her ear. ‘Let her see,’ and Susan screwed her eyes shut, jerking away from the painful glare of four or five powerful lights as the black cotton bag was roughly yanked off. Green blotches and black shapes filled her vision as she shook her head, dragging in deep lungfuls of the hot, humid air that to her, after the confinement of the hood, seemed like an air-conditioned luxury. Her face was scarlet, eyes puffed from crying and her black hair sodden with sweat and plastered against her cheeks and forehead from the confinement of the hood.

Gradually as vision returned, she caught glimpses of eyes and teeth, flashing glints of white against dark brown and black skin. An arc of chairs with more behind and, on the rim of light before the shadows, the edges of shoes and trousers; polished, black shoes and the greens and khaki of military uniform. She hunched over, whimpering in shame and embarrassment trying to shield her body from their eyes. A thin, bony hand gripped her chin, lifting her head forcing her to stare out into the lights.

‘Gentlemen, this is Miss Susan Brown; a young lady whose activities have caused my department considerable time and trouble and it time for her to make amends for causing so much trouble. Besides, as you can see she is young, white and attractive…and I thought her questioning should provide an arousing entertainment.’ He held up a hand, stilling an eager murmur of sound. ‘No she has yet to be interrogated…the marks you see are nothing, just a punishment caning as a lesson in manners from my men.’ Susan twisted and tried to pull away but the fingers pinched and dug into her flesh holding her head still. ‘Behave, Susan, no one is going to come; there is no one to stop us doing whatever we want to you.’

‘You can’t…I’ve got friends…people will be looking for me…asking questions…’ she said desperately, trying to force the words out with some kind of bravado despite the man’s cruel grip on her jaw.

‘Oh no, no Miss Brown, no-one will come looking for you because no-one knows or cares…after all,’ he stopped and grinned into the lights. ‘Our official records show that you left the country yesterday…we have all the paperwork to prove it too.’

There was a series of knowing chuckles from the watching men and Susan sobbed aloud, trembling in horror at what his words implied, and the tears trickled down her cheeks as she thought how stupid she’d been…

Only that morning she thought she was safe as she lay stretched out on a towel next to the clear blue water of a private swimming pool wearing a minute white bikini that only emphasised her near nudity and her deep, smooth tan. The brief triangles of the halter top did little to conceal the full ripe firmness of her breasts. It wasn’t just that the top was tiny, but also that the material was so sheer that the darker circles of her wide aureoles showed through clearly, tenting up into an obvious peak over each nipple.

The bottom half of her costume was equally scanty and revealing. The side ties joined a single string that cut up between the cheeks of her bottom at the back to leave her firm, tanned buttocks completely exposed. The brief vee of stretch fabric at the front barely covered her mound and emphasised the plump bulge of her genitals; cupping her cunt so tightly that a faint indentation showed the slit between the plump inrolling lips.

To be honest, at that moment Susan Brown couldn’t give a fuck if her bikini was too brief or not. This was her first chance to relax and unwind after the horror of a recent arrest by the sadistic thugs of the Internal Security Service… and she wasn’t going to waste it. Her boss, James Phillips, had said she could use the house and pool while he was working up country and she’d jumped at the chance.

In his late 60’s, James was a lawyer who had lived here all his life. Since beginning her human rights work, both of them had drawn the unwelcome attentions of the Internal Security police and on at least two previous occasions she had been arrested and held for a few anxious days.

That was why, subconsciously, Susan knew she had pushed her luck to the limit and now it was time to get out – before things got worse.

The last incident had been the worst, a terrifying three days in a stinking cell being groped and mauled by the guards interspersed by long sessions being screamed at and threatened in the most crude and obscene way by different interrogators. Despite the slaps, punches and threats she hadn’t been tortured or raped but other had. The horror had been all too real as each day she’d listened to the wild screams of others being beaten and suffering other horrible tortures just a few doors away down the corridor. She knew that it was only the fact that James had seen her being arrested, and had been able to make the right noises at a high enough level that had saved her.

Without him… despite the heat, Susan shivered, she’d read the reports and talked to many people…she knew what they did to young women who fell into their hands. Especially the hands of that pervert Kipengi, Jonas Kipengi, the one everyone feared the most.

Lying in the morning sunshine Susan finally made the decision that had been on her mind for some weeks…it was time to leave. She’d tell James tomorrow when he got back. He’d be pleased because she knew he had wanted to get her to a safe country immediately after her release. Relieved that she had finally decided, and admitted the truth to herself at last, she sat up and ran her hands across the oiled curves of her body, automatically adjusting the string straps of her bikini top. Suddenly impatient with sitting still she jumped up and dived into the pool, swimming underwater with long, assured strokes all the way to the steps at the far end.

That was why she didn’t hear the splintering thuds of the front and back doors being broken down…or the noise of the arrest squad beginning their search. Susan Brown only knew her luck really had had run out as she surfaced and walked up the shallow steps… into the muzzle of an AK47 held by a grinning black soldier in camouflage fatigues. The grin widened as he took in the near transparency of Susan’s wet bikini and the rifle’s muzzle jerked up and to the side in an unmistakable order.

Still numbed with the shock of events, Susan obeyed, moving to the side and back towards where her towel was spread on the patio. A vain thought that this might be just a simple robbery was dashed as another man; thin, hatchet-faced and in his mid fifties with greying hair, wearing light grey trousers and a crisp, white open-necked shirt; his eyes hidden by dark glasses, spoke from the open door of the large, airy living room.

‘Ah, Miss Brown, it is Susan Brown isn’t it? We wanted another word with you anyway, how very convenient to find you here…’ He let his words drift away and smiled unpleasantly, those blank, black lenses fixed on the beautiful curves of the young white woman’s figure so blatantly displayed by her minimal costume.

‘Just who the fucking hell do you think you are, breaking in here?’ she yelled in fury taking a single pace towards the figure in the doorway. ‘This is a private house and you’ve no righ… Aaaaarrrggh!’ The butt of the AK47 smashed into the small of her back just over her left kidney. Susan crashed to the tiles by her towel, writhing in agony.

An expensive and highly polished black shoe pressed across her throat, reducing her cries to rasping gasps of pain. ‘Foolish…most foolish, this is an Internal Security matter and I can do what I wish…to anyone. I am Jonas Kipengi.’ The thin lips twitched in a parody of a smile, ‘I deal with traitors and troublemakers,’ he paused, I enjoy my work.’ He stopped, his eyes raking over the girl’s near-naked body, ‘especially when the troublemaker is a rude and insolent young woman.’ From behind the black lenses he studied her like an insect on a pin as she stared back, shock and horror mixed with the agony and the desperate, rasping need for breath. He smiled again, and leaned his weight forward watching intently as her face contorted at the agonising extra pressure on her windpipe. ‘Aaah…I see you have already heard of me…good, very good, it saves so much time.’

The shoe lifted and disappeared and there was the peremptory click of his fingers. Two of the soldiers dragged her to her feet and into wreckage of the airy, once-elegant living room. ‘You fucking bastards…you bloody animals, how dare you treat me like this…Naaah!’ Her struggles and protests were cut off instantly as Kipengi smashed his hand casually against the side of her face. The ‘thwaap!’ of the impact echoed round the room.

He looked at the shivering and now silent nineteen-year-old with a sneer of contempt. ‘You will be quiet… foolish little girls need lessons in manners, Corporal, did you bring a cane…?’

To Susan’s horror she saw one of the three remaining soldiers, a heavily muscled, shaven headed thug whose grin seemed even whiter and more threatening gleaming from his shining black features, was holding a thin rattan cane; flexing it in a semicircle between his hands. ‘Yes Sir, just one of the ordinary ones though…’ His thick, rumbling voice sounded almost disappointed.

‘Very well, that’ll have to do. Now, let’s see how nice and obedient you really are, Miss Brown… First, we can dispense with that indecent and totally inadequate swimming costume don’t you agree…?’

‘Wha, what do you mean?’

‘You know perfectly well what I mean…get undressed, take your bikini off, strip…whichever term you prefer.’

‘No, no you can’t ma…’

‘…Corporal Mutu, I think that Miss Brown needs a little help…’ There were coarse laughs from the other soldiers as the corporal made the cane slice through the air with a vicious ‘ziiiip!’

‘No, no, please I’ll do it,’ she interrupted in sudden panic whilst her fingers fumbled with the bow at her neck. There was an eager silence as everyone watched the gleaming suntanned figure reach behind her back to undo the last tie of her wet bikini top. As the strings came undone the top came loose, but remained clamped in place by the pressure of Susan’s arms. Without a word Jonas Kipengi caught hold of one of the string ties and tugged, very slowly and insistently. Susan sobbed and stared down at the polished floor as she let the top go, crossing her arms tightly in front of her in a vain attempt to hide her breasts from their hot, excited gaze.

‘Go on…the panties too or…’ Kipengi’s threat was enough. The men’s grins grew wider as the white girl struggled to peel the damp material of her bikini bottom down her legs. She kicked the rolled scrap of fabric free and immediately hunched forwards, right hand cupping her genitals, left arm held across her breasts in the classic pose.

‘Better, a little better,’ Jonas Kipengi’s voice became harsher. ‘Now stand up properly, straight up… and put your hands behind your head…’ Susan paused, shivering and trying not to burst into tears at the pain and sheer humiliation of her plight.

‘DO IT!’ Jonas Kipengi’s shout jerked her into automatic obedience. There was a low growl of excitement from the three soldiers as she slowly raised her arms; lifting and presenting the firm cones of her breasts, the hard peaks jutting upwards like dark brown spikes.

‘Noooo, please, please!’ Trying to hold the ordered pose, Susan began shaking as she saw the pale creamy-yellow rod was now in Kipengi’s hands. Almost tenderly he stroked it against her flank, sliding it across then lifting it until it was horizontal, just pressing up into the soft under swell of her breasts.

‘Oh yes…this comes next,’ his voice purred, ‘A sharp lesson for a rude little girl…to make her remember her manners…and then… well then we will take you somewhere more private for a more intimate discussion.’ He paused watching the shivering get worse as he stroked the cane upwards, following the jutting curves until it rested under the hard peaks of her nipples. ‘Now my corporal here is going to give you ten strokes with this cane. No, don’t do anything…yet’ He clicked his fingers, ‘bring a chair,’ and Susan shivered in fear.

She stared blankly as one of the other soldiers carried an upright wooden chair across from the dining table and placed it just in front of her in the middle of the living room. She caught the smell of his body, the oily reek of sweat and excitement; his deep black skin gleaming and shining under the lights as his powerful muscles flexed with every movement. He chuckled at her expression of confusion and fear as she stared at the chair.

It was very ordinary and plain; the back was a single top rail connecting the two uprights with two other rails below that. The seat itself was made of wooden slats. Like the rest of the chair they were bare wood, light brown and gleaming with the careful polishing of years.

She jerked even more upright as she felt the cane caressing her nipples, touching the tips so they swelled and hardened… each brown stub pointing up and out even more prominently. ‘Now…I want you to bend over the back of that chair and put your hands flat on the seat.’ The thin rod tapped her rigid nipples and she gasped and jolted at the sudden sensation. She drew breath but he went on before she could say anything. ‘No, there’s nothing you can do to stop it happening, nothing at all…’ He paused, ‘but I will give you a choice.’ The thin lips curled into a sadistic smile at her wild, frantic expression. ‘You can obey me immediately and hold the position all by yourself…or my men will strap you down and you will receive double the number…well?’

‘Please, please no I don’t want to be caned, please I’ve done nothing!’

The cane tapped against the tips of her nipples; a steady, gentle rhythm than made them rouse and stiffen into traitorous peaks. ‘Not quite the answer I asked for so the punishment is now fifteen strokes. Again, which way do you want to receive your punishment?

‘No, no please…’

‘Twenty strokes, you are really being very stupid.’

‘I…I…I’ll bend over the chair,’ she whispered.

‘Speak up; I want my men to hear your promise too.’

‘Please, I’ll bend over the chair, d-don’t t-tie me down.’ Her voice was hoarse, the words broken by frantic swallows and gulps for breath. The cane moved away from her breasts and she felt it pressing against the middle of her back.

‘Well, go on then…do it.’ The tip of the cane dug into her spine, urging her forwards as she took two small steps until the toned curve of her belly touched the top rail. ‘No, no… the feet outside the back legs if you please.’ She stifled a cry as the cane flicked the backs of her knees forcing her to spread her legs apart until she was standing with each instep pressed against the outside of a chair leg.

Jonas Kipengi smiled broadly; watching the nineteen year old pressing her front against the wooden back rail as she tried to shield her cunt from the view of his men. The silly white bitch had no idea, no idea at all…modesty would be the last thing on her mind when they really got to work on her. He felt a pleasurable tightness in his groin and gently adjusted the thick bulge of his erection… now, I wonder how many it will take to make her disobey and stand up…?

‘Bend right over, hands flat on the chair like I told you.’ Susan Brown bent from the waist, rising a little onto her toes so she could put the palms of her hands on the wooden slatted seat. As she did so her breasts swung free, bobbing and juggling with every little movement and only shielded by the position of her outstretched arms. ‘The rules are simple; you count each stroke aloud…if you miss one, or if you move your hands or try to get up, then it doesn’t count and you get that one again…clear?’

There was a muffled noise from the doubled figure, her face hidden by the short curtain of black hair that stirred as she nodded. From their position Jonas and the three soldiers could see every intimate detail; the full swell of her buttocks, the long taut, trembling legs and, because of her straddled position, the dark brown rosette of her anus and the moist slit bulge of her cunt lips nestling between her parted thighs.

Jonas Kipengi moved round until he could crouch by the front of the chair, one hand stroking the nape of the girl’s neck. He passed the cane to the grinning corporal. ‘Twenty strokes, Mutu…twenty hard strokes.’ His fingers twined in the girl’s hair, twisting so she arched her neck back and he was able to see her wide eyes and the way her teeth nibbled at her lower lip. ‘Now, Miss Brown, let’s see how brave you really are.’

Whilst his boss was talking, the grinning corporal took off his camouflage pattern trousers and adjusted the grubby white athletic support that barely contained the heavy bulge of his genitals. The thick length of his cock tented the elastic fabric and there was a tell-tale oval of wetness marking the place where the smooth dome of his glans pressed into the material. Taking his time deliberately he stretched and flexed his muscles, enjoying the chance to show off his body builder’s physique and knowing that every second added to the girl’s distress and fear.

Taking the cane back from his master he bent it into a circle then let it whip straight with a wicked hissing ‘zzzzzzzt’. There were crude comments as they saw the girl jerk at the sound. There were more laughs as he took a series of practise swings and cuts. Each time she heard the vicious zipping of the cane through the air Susan gasped and twitched, her grimaces and terrified anticipation only making the soldiers laugh more at this familiar show. Besides, they knew that their turn would come once the boss and the corporal had fucked her.

Shuffling his bare feet astride to ensure he had a firm footing on the polished wooden boards, Corporal Mutu measured the distance with care, tapping the cane across the out-thrust curves of the trembling white girl’s outthrust bottom cheeks. Again, Susan jerked and gasped at each contact whilst a flush of colour spread down across her shoulders at the crude, obscene comments from the watching soldiers then…

‘Thwuck!’

‘Uh…uuuh…haaaah!’

Not a scream, not yet; just a hissing indrawn breath then a single voiced gasp of anguish as the first stroke sliced into her flesh. She arched back with her eyes wide, staring at the window; muscles quivering in an effort to ride the scalding heat of the red weal branded across her flesh.

‘Since you’ve said nothing, we’ll take that as a practice stroke to let Corporal Mutu get his eye in…’

‘Oh God, no please…one…that was one…pleeeese!’

‘No it wasn’t…this one will be…if you remember to do as you’re tol…’

‘…thwuckk!’

Naaaaaah, aaah-aah…ONE! Please,one, one… please…’

Susan screamed out the count as Corporal Mutu placed the next cut parallel with the raised weal of the first stroke. Again, she arched back, fingers clawing at the slats, leg muscles shivering with strain as she danced on the spot; her feet slapping out an agonised tattoo on the boards. Each succeeding stroke brought another screaming cry.

‘TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIIIIVE…aaaaaah, Oh God…p-p-p-pleeese, nooooo!’

‘The next five under the crease, Mutu,’ Jonas Kipengi said quietly when the girl’s desperate pleas had died away. ‘Miss Brown can sing louder than that…’ Corporal Mutu grinned and wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead as he moved a little so he could cut the thin rattan right into the tender flesh where the curve of her bottom cheeks met the top of each leg.

‘Swuck!’

This time the sound of the impact was lower and meatier, the cane slicing exactly across the sensitive crease. Susan rose on tip-toe; her head snapping back and her mouth gaping wide as she wailed aloud in pain and despair. Somehow she managed to hold her hands down; managed to keep her body doubled over the chair back.

‘Naaaarrrggh! Sis-sis-six!’

Jonas Kipengi straightened up and nodded. The next few would break her, force her to rise and disobey his instructions…then they would hold her down over the chair whilst they fucked her in turn. Then…the rest of the promised punishment caning before taking her back to the compound for a more sophisticated and leisurely torture session. He walked to the settee and began to get undressed. A precise, methodical man each item of clothing was carefully laid along the leather back of the settee as behind him the sound of the cane continued with a slow, agonising rhythm.

‘Swick…swick…swick…swick…swick…swuckkk!’

‘Gaaaah…s-s-seven…Naaah…eh-eh-eh-eight…p-p-p-p-pleeeeeessss…nuh-nuh-nuh-nine..t-t-t-ten…aaah-aaaarrrgh…aaaa-leven…T-T-TWEEEELLLLVVEEE!’

The last stroke was just too much to bear. As she squealed out the count Susan forgot her orders and sprang upright, dancing on the spot on tiptoe whilst her hands clawed and rubbed frantically at the raised and burning weals striping her bottom cheeks. Jonas Kipengi turned in the middle of unbuckling his trouser belt and snapped an order at the two watching soldiers.

‘Still eight more…you two, get the silly bitch back in position!’

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I Draw Pain – 108 Torture Comics

2013-05-04_201645

I Draw Pain – 108 Torture Comics

Categories: Guro, Death Fetish, Original ArtWork, Fantasy, Cannibalism, Rape, Extremely Torture, Cidnapping, Bloody Cunt

Description: 108 PhotoSets | Pics

Format: PDF

Comics Name:

Comics Name: SICKEST COMICS 1-17, Kidnapped cop, Glamorous stylist, Sheik of Salisbury, Valeria, The Circus, 120 Days Of Sodom, Pat Chris, Thing, Les Brigades Roses, Lara Jones story 1-5, Douces, Perils of penelope enter the scorpion, Solange Messager sur le Front, Nazi Doublecross, Die Sadistiche Markiezin, Hard Games Hotel 1-2, Hotel of Hars Encounters 1-2, Juicy Alice, Le Salon Des Chatiments 1-2, Middle Eastern Nights 1-2, Pussy In Boots, The Punishment 1-2, The Punishment Parlor 1-2, Bondage Slaves 1-3, Book Of Bondage 1-6, Diane de Grand Lieu 1-4, Hilda 1-5, Le Mistere du Harem, Beautes Dociles, Twisted Toon Tales 1-13, Twisted Toon Tales Annual, The Berger Institute, 11001 Strokes, Anitas Nightmare, Countryside, Lust, Siss in Peril, Agan Medon, Kose, Fetish World, Nameless Slave, Slave Execution, Slave Market, The Monastery, The Way, Torture Devices, The Ballerina, Circle of Cult 1-3

Language: English

I Draw Pain.rar

Example Cover:

RESISTANCE [Quoom]

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“Heil Hitler!”
Sophie startled from her doze, when she heard the voice and the steps from heavy boots from outside of her cold, dirty cell. Her chains rattled lowly and she couldn’t suppress some groans when the rough metal of the shackles rubbed over the chafed skin of her wrists and ankles. Somehow she felt, that this time she wouldn’t have to listen the screams of someone else, as she had to do since she was brought here in the cell an unknown, but endless seeming time ago.

She shuddered not only from the cold, when the cell door opened and a guard quickly approached and reached her before she even got on her feet.

“It’s your turn, lady,” he grinned and opened the lock that fixed the chains to the wall. “I’ve waited for this, since you’ve entered this little paradise!” He grabbed her upper arm and pushed her forward towards the door. “You need an invitation? Hurry on, bitch!” He said impatiently, when she stopped for a moment, blinded by the bright light that her eyes weren’t used anymore.

Outside an officer in black uniform was waiting and sized her up from head to toes. Sophie felt so naked under his gaze, knowing to well that the thin and dirty dress didn’t hide much from this piercing gaze. They had fetched her deep in the night from her bed, not even allowing her to dress anything else than this thin nightgown, that she wore now, not able to fight the cold or greedy looks in anyway.

“Nice, really quite nice,” the voice of the officer sounded amused. “If you talk early enough that something is left from your beauty when we are done with you, you could become a highly appreciated whore in the brothel for our brave soldiers!”

Blood rushed in her face and for a moment her fear was replaced by a thoughtless rage, when she shouted a course towards him. His answer came fast, and without warning Sophie was sent down to the floor by a violent punch in her face. The world turned and vanished behind a veil, blood shot out of her nose, filled her mouth with its salty taste. With some effort she tried to stand up, but kicks in her belly, sides and kidneys threw her back again, she heard herself scream and coughed bitter liquid, crawled on the floor in the useless try to avoid the kicks.

Somewhat it stopped and only half-conscious she felt rudely grabbed and pulled upwards, her arms raised and the shackles fixed to a chain dangling from above.

“Better you choose you words with more care, imprudent partisans are not very popular here, you understand?” A clap with the riding crop underlined his words, and slowly regaining full consciousness Sophie realized, that her dress was torn wide enough now to reveal her firm breasts and the nipples erected from the cold.

She breathed hectically and hardly, tried to ignore the pain from wrists, arms and shoulders that increased from second to second while she hung her suspended like on the hook in a slaughterhouse.

Fully busied with her own miserable situation, Sophie didn’t notice the entrance of another man. Only when he almost has reached her, she perceived this older man in his black trench coat, who looked at her emotionlessly and ignored the greetings of her tormenters.

“You must excuse. Those young people are sometimes a little bit overzealous, but I’m sure we will find a way for a more civilized conversation.”

“Please, why…?” she started; frightened by her own rough and hoarse voice, but he stopped her and wiped off the blood from her face with a quickly reddening cloth.

“Don’t speak now!” His mouth smiled quite friendly, but his gaze was cold as ice, when he lightened a cigarette and advanced her. Almost panic-stricken Sophie tried to turn away, when he advanced her face with the glowing tip. But he only laughed lowly and took a deep puff.

“You want?” Relieved that he didn’t burn her, but still voiceless from fear she just shook weakly her head.

He shrugged his shoulders. “Good for your health, you should care for it too, when you answer to my questions.” He took another deep puff and sat down to the wooden stool the SS-Officer brought to him.

“Please, Mister, let me down, I don’t know…” Again he interrupted her. “Stop, not now. Let me finish this cigarette and meanwhile use your certainly existing brain to think about the answer you will give me then. As a student of medicine you should be smart enough to find a solution for your misery, right?”

Lowly groaning Sophie closed her eyes and let her head sunk down. Her heart bounced hard enough that she could feel the pulse at her chin. It was quiet know, only low creaking sounds from the slowly pending chain, from which she was suspended, low breathing and her own low groans were heard in the chamber.

She knew, she wouldn’t talk – not yet at least, not betray her friends from the resistance, and so she tried to prepare for the coming hell, that was only the length of a cigarette away from her…

“Okay, let’s begin now!” His voice together with sound of the chair pushed across the floor sounded like a sudden explosion in Sophie’s ears. She started to tremble and her heart seemed to try to jump out of her body.

“You know why you are here, Miss Meschamps?”

“No, I don’t know, it must be a confusion, I…” She screamed out loudly when the crop hit her breast with force, leaving a fast swelling mark on the soft skin.

“No, you are wrong, we usually don’t make such mistakes,” the Gestapo man continued unmoved, when her scream finally ended in a low sobbing. “You are here, because someone told us your name. Can you imagine, who this could be?”

Sophie’s thoughts swirled; as far as she knew none of her friends was captured, no one who knew from her connection to the resistance.

“Now?” This time the blow came less surprising and she succeeded in suppressing another scream, just took a deeper breath between clenched teeth.

“No, I swear, Mister, I don’t have any idea…I…”

“Maybe this helps you to remember…” He showed her a picture. “This is an English soldier our boats caught while he tried to flee back to his island. And you will not believe it… but after some convincing work he told us your name when we asked him for his helpers. How can this be? Maybe he met you somewhere on marketplace and just told this name to avoid further torture?”

Desperately Sophie took the shown way out. “Yes, yes… I remember, I met this man on the marketplace an he asked me for the way. I…”

She couldn’t finish, felt her legs lifted and grabbed and then a couple of violent blows with the truncheon hit her belly, her sides and her ribcage, mercilessly ignoring the loud screams, that ended in a low whimpering after some minutes, when she couldn’t get enough air for more screams…

“This was very stupid, Miss Mechamps. Even more than stupid lies I’m hating, if anyone thinks I’d be a fool.” He hung his hat on a hook and undressed his cloak. “It seems we have to talk a longer time than I thought, so I may call you Sophie now, yes?”

Sophie didn’t notice much, only the pain from her torso, her wrists, that have started bleed as she rubbed away the skin in her desperate tries to protect herself from the blows.

“Well, Sophie, the French of this English soldier was so terrible that even a less smart girl than you would easily identify him as a foreigner. And as you know very well: fraternization with the enemy is a severe crime; your government has a signed the peace-treaty with us, and so you count now as a lawless partisan. Do you know what happens to such people?”

Her teeth trembled so much that she couldn’t answer even if she’d wish to do, but he doesn’t wait for a reply.

“They are hanged! Not a nice death at all, this you can believe me.” He pressed her neck until her head got red from the lack of air, and waited then until her coughing stopped.

“But I think, you could be just a young girl, a bit careless as young people are. And maybe if you have learnt your lesson and you will be a good girl from now on?”

“Yes, I will,” she breathed with rough voice. “Please don’t beat me anymore, I…”

“Good, good… then just give me the prove and tell me some details about your friends and the way your organization is helping our common enemies to escape, will you?”

Sophie closed her eyes, tears ran down now; she could use this way out, maybe his offer even was honest, but then she would betray her friends and the poor remains of the English army, that desperately looked for way out from this trap, France has become for them. She knew that a bigger transport had been organized, it should be one week after her capture. How long she was here now? How long she had to endure the torture before this information was worthless for the Nazis?

“You still hesitate? You are disappointing me. I thought, you’d be smarter…Well, then you have to learn another lesson.”

He grabbed her leg and sat down on the wooden stool. With wide opened eyes, Sophie watched the guard who reached him a pliers.

“What…what are you going to do with this?”

He smiled coldly. “You can guess it. If I don’t get your answer immediately now, you will loose the first toenail.” He hold her foot in a strong grip and Sophie felt the cold metal edge that touched the tip of her toe and searched its way below the nail.

“NO…NOT…” the sharp pain filled her mind, and as well she noticed the warm liquid at her toe, her blood that started to run , when he dug the pliers deeper into the nail bed. Somehow she felt like not being here, it was too unbelievable that this really happened to her, but the pain felt too real, with horrified opened eyes she stared along her stretched out leg to the source of this pain.

Sophie coughed and gasped. “Really, I don’t know… I …” With a final yank he tore away the nail, and her words ended in a terrible scream that echoed from the walls.

“Nine left…” He threw away the bloody nail and stood up, hold the pliers threatening in front of her eyes. “And ten fingernails, as well as some even more sensitive targets!” The pliers touched her nipples. “Do you really want to force me to continue?” “Let me ask you again: who are your helpers and where do you hide the fugitives?” Sophie’s head was whirling; she didn’t know how often she had heard this question meanwhile. It was always only a short rest where she tried to fill her burning lungs with some air – air that she needed for the screams, when the beating continued moments later. Even shaking her head was too much strain for her now, and that beseeches were a useless waste of breathe, Sophie also had to learn meanwhile, so she just ignored the question and waited for the certainly coming pain.

And she didn’t have to wait a long time, but this time it were no blows that made her scream out loudly with hoarse voice, but a splash of scalding water, that hit her back, steaming on her former icy skin, burning in countless wounds and scratches the beatings had left on her skin. Sophie howled like a wounded animal, with unknown reserves her muscles tensioned and she writhes in her bounds. Another bucket hit her buttocks, colorizing it in a deep pink color, boiling hot water run over the cleavage, run downwards until it licked at her puss lips, bringing an explosion of pain that made her muscles spasm in the futile try to run away from this hell.

Still trembling from fingers to toes, she was rotated, so her breast and belly were now targets for the steaming bucket, which the guard brought with sadistic smile.

“NOOO, God no, stop it, you boil me alive!” She shrieked in panic, hauled at her bounds that she almost broke her tender wrists.

“You talk?” Only two words he wasted, and as she hesitated too long just to inhale the air to reply, the boiling water splashed against her chest.

“YIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEHH” There were not much human in her scream anymore, again she bounced in her bounds, weaker now, her limbs felt like lifeless and useless appendages, her trembling muscles didn’t obey her mind anymore. And already the next bucket was brought. while her eyes were like magically attracted from a blister that grew from reddened skin near her left nipple

“We have a lot of water here, how much do you need?”

How she hated this voice, so sarcastic and now so self-confident, that she’d be broken in the next moment! This voice filled her with enough rage, that she could forget the pain and exhaustion for a moment.

“You will need the whole ocean, you bastard!” she hissed hoarsely, before the next bucket changed the skin of her front in a crab-like red and her screams echoed from the walls another time.

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PRISONER OF WAR [Quoom]

PRISONER OF WAR

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It was the right front wheel that hit the mine. The explosion struck with such force that not only was the ambulance lifted up and dropped on its side but a hundred pieces of metal from the truck tore through the cab like shrapnel. The waiting Viet Cong leapt out of the jungle and within seconds had climbed onto the now useless vehicle. The driver and his passenger were bleeding profusely, and if not dead, were dying. The VC emptied their weapons into the cab anyway, headless of the Red Crosses both men wore on their arms.

A third guerilla had circled to the back of the truck where he found the rear doors had been sprung. Sprawled across the ground was a pretty blonde woman dressed in camouflage, unconscious and bleeding from a gash in her scalp. After checking quickly inside and finding the truck otherwise empty he turned her on her back while his two companions watched closely.

She came to with a start when her eyelid was pulled back and she found herself staring up into the face of the Viet Cong. She instantly realized what had happened and tried to fight off her captor. It was useless. She was pulled to her feet by her hair and when this did not stop her desperate struggles, a rifle butt was driven into her stomach.

Gasping for breath and momentarily helpless she was pulled around to the top of the truck which now lay on its side. They pressed her against the rack and bound her wrists to it, spreading her arms wide. Recovered now, she kicked and fought her captors who responded with blows to her face and breasts. Her shirt was pulled open and her dog-tags torn from her neck. A rifle was pushed into her mouth and they began to shred the camo from her body.

The leader gave an order the other two began to strip off her bra and panties. “You bastards!” she screamed, “You slimy slant-eyed bastards!” Unable to move her arms she tried to kick him in the groin. A fist slammed into her cheek and then the rifle was again driven into her belly, driving the breath from her with a loud whoosh. The leader hit her again and again slammed the rifle into her suspended body until she hung limply unable to fight any more.

Through a haze of pain and exhaustion she heard him laugh and felt the rifle butt pushing up into her crotch. She could only moan. Hands were at her breasts and then at then at her belly. Her pants were ripped in two and her legs spread. They started to pull her panties down; they were going to rape her. She pulled at the thongs that bound her wrists but she was at their mercy.

Then she heard the WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP of helicopter blades. Moments later the sound was almost on top of them. “Help!” she screamed, “Help me! Save me!” A hand was clamped over her mouth and her hope disappeared as the chopper headed away. They hadn’t seen her and of course could not have heard her over the noise of the engine, but her captors realized they couldn’t wait around any longer. The truck would be missed and soldiers might appear at any moment. They would take their prize back to their base and deal with her later. The name on her dog-tags was Sharon Connelly.

With the chopper went Sharon’s hope. She watched with growing terror as they found two thick branches and tied them into a cross. When they untied her and pressed the cross into her back she knew they weren’t going to kill her, at least not now. She did not struggle, thankful that she was going to live. Her elbows were bent around the horizontal member and then her wrists tied together at her bare belly. Another long thong went from the top of the cross around her throat binding her neck to the wood and leaving two leather strands in front to act as a lead. Finally her mouth was forced open and a short thick stick pressed between her lips and that too bound to the cross gagging her tightly.

The leader took hold of the lanyard that circled Sharon’s neck and pulled at it sharply. She staggered forward behind him, the other two trailing behind them, rifles at the ready. Painfully bound by leather to the wooden cross that dug into her back, the half naked girl was led into the jungle, shivering with fear despite the heat. She had one last sideways glance at the disabled truck and the thought that it might be the last she ever saw of American civilization flashed across her mind.

The three-quarter moon had risen high in the sky by the time the party arrived at the VC base camp. Sharon did not even know they had arrived until the sentry shouted down a greeting from his perch above their heads. Not only was the camp well concealed but for the past two hours she had not had the energy to lift her head. It was all she could do to keep from keeling over from exhaustion.

Her forced march had not been terribly far, perhaps five miles, but the path had been almost nonexistent and the footing treacherous. Bound as she was with her arms tied at the wrists and her back held rigid by the cross it was hard to maintain her balance on the rough path as she was pulled along by the lead around her neck. The guerilla who headed the small procession made no attempt to hold the branches he pushed aside, and with her wrists and neck firmly tethered she could neither block them or avoid them as the whipped across her body. Her bare breasts and belly took the worst of it, but her thighs also showed numerous welts and scratches, as though she had been lashed with a thin whip.

Only her surpassing agility and determination had kept her on her feet, but near the end of the journey she had finally tripped on a root unseen in the gathering dusk and toppled forward. Somehow she managed to twist to her side and avoided any bad damage, although her knee hit a jagged rock and began to bleed profusely. The fall pulled the lead from her captors hand and he immediately turned around and started shouting at her to rise.

She couldn’t. Face down in the dirt with her arms bound in such a hideous fashion she was as helpless as a turtle on its back. She was kicked in the side and a rifle but struck her sharply on the buttocks, but all she could do was writhe helplessly on the ground and utter muted cries through her gag. Finally her captors tired of their sport and lifted her to her feet by the cross and they continued on, Sharon now capable of thinking of nothing but keeping on her feet.

Her first emotion upon reaching the camp was one of relief; her forced march was over. This almost immediately gave way to shame as she felt the hungry eyes of the VC guerillas on her – shame not of her near nudity but of the bondage that left her vulnerable and helpless in the midst of the enemy. They pushed her forward without a word and seconds later she was gripped by fear as the door of the wooden cage was opened and she was thrust inside.

The cage was set at the edge of the compound in what was once the margin of a rice paddy. It was only shoulder high and open at the top. Escape would have presented no problem for an athletic girl like Sharon if she had not been bound to the cross and if wicked seven inch nails had not been used to attach the cross-members to the cage so that they protruded into the “living space” itself. The result was that any attempt to rise from her squatting position was blocked by the long spikes, as was any movement to the side. Worse, if she moved forward or tried to stretch her cramping legs she would have been impaled. There was nothing for her to do but squat in the stagnant water as the door was shut and locked before her.

Oddly it was not the pain in her legs or the fear of her unknown fate at the hands of an enemy she knew to be cruel and vengeful that made her cry. It was the fact that her captors had left her unguarded that started her weeping. They were that sure not only that she could not escape but that there was no help coming for her. In other words, it was hopeless; she could not escape, she would not be rescued. She was their prisoner to do with as they pleased. And so she began to sob.

Throughout the night pajama clad men would come to stare at her. She would doze for a moment, her agony overwhelmed by sheer exhaustion, to wake up with a start and see a face staring at her naked breasts with undisguised lust. Then the eyes would move up to hers and the expression was always the same – one of pride and superiority, as if to say, “How strong is your great American army that we have you at our mercy?” But none spoke.

This display of arrogance by her captors gave Sharon incentive not to show her misery. She managed to stifle her sobs but they were soon replaced by moans of pain. Her calf and thigh muscles were exhausted from the long trek. Normally such a walk would not have disturbed her but with her arms, neck and head bound so tightly in such a constricting position every step had been torture. Now hunkered down in her cage in water up to her crotch her legs had cramped painfully and there was nothing she could do to relieve the agony other than squirm fitfully between the spikes.

In a way the pain was a blessing. It kept her mind from dwelling too long on what the next day would hold. She would be raped, she was sure of that, but she had already steeled herself and was sure she would be able to bear it. Her legs became numb but it was now her back that kept her in constant agony. Her moans became louder and more constant. Somehow she managed to drift off into a restless sleep for a few minutes but when she awoke she realized with horrible clarity that her captors had not bound and caged her like this simply to make escape impossible – they had done it to cause her pain. She was being tortured. Was this just the beginning? Was this simply the first of many and more horrible tortures? She had heard the stories, the stories of bamboo being pushed under fingernails, of hot coals searing off nipples, of the slow and careful mutilation of a woman’s sex. Oh God, she thought, let them only rape me and then kill me. I don’t think I could bear torture.

Posted September 2nd, 2006

Sharon stood before the guerilla leader using every bit of her courage to put on a brave face, while her stomach was in truth tied in knots from fear. She was exhausted and even if she had not been terrified, she would not have been able to still the trembling of her limbs. Every muscle in her body was aching to a degree she would not have believed possible before her introduction to the Asian talent for sadistic bondage. She had been unable to walk or even stand when they had first dragged her from her cage. As a reward, her face had been pushed under the muddy water of the rice paddy by a booted foot. Even after the foot had been lifted off her face she did not have the strength to lift her head and would have drowned right there if she had not been lifted by the wooden bar that ran across the small of her back.

She coughed and spit up water around the thick wooden stick that served as her gag. Barely able to stand she was dragged forward and forced to walk until the cramps in her legs abated enough for her to stumble forward between her two captors until they came to the open hut where their leader waited.

She stood there, half naked and gagged, trembling, her back held upright and rigid by the cross, while the Viet Cong explained the circumstances of her capture and the destruction of the military ambulance. When he finished the leader scowled and said to Sharon in clearly understandable if heavily accented English, “I not think you are nurse or any kind medical worker.” Instinctively she tried to answer but the thick wood in her mouth made it impossible and the rough bark of the stick sawed painfully at the corners of her mouth.

The guard holding her pushed her roughly forward against the small table in front of the VC captain. When she resisted he grasped the vertical member of the cross at the top and bottom and bent her forward so her face was close enough that she could smell the captains foul breath. She tried to jerk her head away but that too was held tightly by the thong that bound her neck to the cross.

He pinched her nipple between the fingers of his left hand while he held a knife at her throat with the right. For a moment she thought he was going to slash her jugular and she stared at him with unalloyed hate but he simply cut away the cords that tied the wooden gag in her mouth. “Now you tell me…what you do here?”

Sharon licked at the dried blood on her lips. “Water,” she croaked, “Give me water.” She was slammed face first onto the table. The captain shouted at her, “You not tell me! You do as I tell!”

Sharon’s shorts were quickly pulled down below her knees and she knew she was now going to be raped. “You fucking animals! You fucking bastards!” The captain grabbed her hair and pushed her head down on the table. She felt the guerilla’s cock between her legs and began to struggle and curse her attackers. But she was helpless. The guerilla rammed into her and then pulled hard on the cross while the captain retained his grip on her hair. She cried out in pain; it seemed she was being pulled in four different directions – the captain pushing and twisting hr by the hair, some times banging it on the table; the guerilla jerking up on the cross while he fucked her viciously, slamming against her buttocks. Her head was pulled up and the captain shouted at her, “Who are you? What you do here?” The guerilla never stopped ravaging her while the captain shouted and threatened her, calling her an arrogant American dog and promising to slit her throat once every one of his men had fucked her twice.

They turned her on her back. The guerilla jammed his fingers into her pussy and spit on her with contempt, but Sharon was barely aware of it. She started to moan and the captain put his large knife in her mouth. “You not want talk, maybe I just cut your tongue out.” Sharon closed her eyes and waited, almost not caring whether he did so or not.

They tied SharonТs ankles to the legs of the rough hewn chair. Even though she had been practically nude for the past 12 hours and had been brutally raped only minutes before, being tied to the chair with her pussy exposed left her feeling more naked than ever. She pushed her thighs as close together as the ropes would allow and instinctively tried to cover herself with her hands, but held tightly by the thongs that bound her wrists they merely fluttered uselessly in front of her belly.

The guerilla grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head back, straightening her back against the chair, and slapped her across the face. From behind him she heard the captains voice shout УWho are you?Ф a moment before the VCТs fist crashed into her face. Now he had her face in both his hands forcing her to look straight at the captain. УOne minute we stop playing unless you talk quick.Ф Sharon spit out a globule of blood, licked her lips and managed to speak in a husky whisper, her fear and caution replaced by rage. УFuck you, fuck all of you.Ф

The captain took over the beating while the guerilla held her head, slapping her face hard, back and forth, back and forth, all the while shouting УFuck you, hah hah, fuck you.Ф He worked on her with his fingers, probing the painful wounds on her face until she wanted to scream, but she choked it back despite the pain. The VC holding her head grabbed her throat and strangled her to the point she almost blacked out while the captain continued to slap her harder and harder and use his fingernails on her wounds. Blood was pouring from her wounds and she felt herself getting lightheaded from the punishment and her lack of food and sleep. Still she held on, afraid of what they would do to her if she fainted.

The captain reached into his pocket and pulled out her dog tags. УThis say you name Sharon Connelly.Ф She said nothing but couldnТt help smirking at the butchered pronunciation. He slapped her hard again then leaned on her thighs putting his face inches from hers. УI have message from friend in camp Echo that say soldiers searching for missing one with name Connelly. Very worried. But that Connelly not nurse. No, she translator. She help with questions. Maybe torture men yes.Ф

With the word УtortureФ Sharon felt the blood rushing from her head, felt her grasp of consciousness slipping. She was a translator, and she had been present at the interrogations of Viet Cong prisoners. But that was all. She had never been present at the torture of any of the prisoners, could not even have sworn that such torture had taken place, although the stories certainly led one to believe so. УNo,Ф she groaned, УNo. I didnТtЕФ

The captain grinned. УNow your turn.Ф SharonТs shook her head weakly back and forth one time before she fainted.

She regained consciousness as though she were climbing out of a deep pit. The first thing she was aware of was that she was lying on her back, tilted at an angle so her head was below her feet and that there was a pressure on her throat. Her eyes fluttered open and she saw the VC who had raped her bent over and looping strands of cord around her neck, tight enough to hold her head steady but not so tight as to cut off her air. Her arms were still tied in front of her with her elbows bent around the pole that crossed her back. She could feel rope being tied tightly around her legs just below her knees. She managed to twist her head just enough to see she had been bound to a wooden board. With horror she realized there could be no other purpose for this other than to secure her for torture.

The captain began to pull off her boots, the last piece of her uniform that remained intact. When he finished she would be naked except for a few torn shreds of her blouse that remained across her breasts. Worse, she knew that that simple operation was all that remained between her and the beginning of her torture. Sharon began to weep and writhe in her bonds. УWha…what are you going to do to me,Ф she sobbed.

The captain answered in stern voice of a school teacher lecturing a recalcitrant student. УWe teach lesson in humility.Ф

Sharon began to struggle against the ropes but it was of no use. УNoЕnoЕplease oh God no,Ф she begged, УWhy? Oh God why? Not me please no not me.Ф

Her pleas dissolved into an ear splitting shriek as the captain slid his knife under her large toe nail and began to slowly pry the nail from its bed. She tried to move her foot away from the horrible pain but between the ropes that bound her so tightly to the inclined board and the captains firm grip on her foot she was completely helpless. All she could do was claw at the air with her hands, scream and suffer the agony of the slow Viet Cong torture.

Sharon lay in a state of near shock. Despite the searing pain she never fainted although she was aware of little beyond the agony that racked her body. There were more threats, more demands, none of which made sense to the tortured captive. The pole that had been the vertical member of her cross was forced between her thighs. Sharon gave a startled cry, feeling the pressure against her pussy but not knowing what was causing it.

“Am I being raped again?” she thought but as the rough wood was forced into her vagina she knew it was worse. No man’s cock was that thick and that rough, no rape could hurt that much. She opened her mouth to scream but her cry of pain was muffled by a cloth that dropped over her face. Simultaneously with the entry of the pole between the lips of her pussy the captain began pouring water onto the cloth that covered her face. Completely disoriented by the pain and the cloth that blocked her vision, she began to struggle and scream with renewed energy brought on by panic. As she opened her mouth to gulp in air. the cloth, dripping and heavy with water sank into her mouth. Water ran down her throat into her straining lungs. She gagged and coughed trying to expel the water but more dripped down her throat. Unable to breathe Sharon tried to get air through her nose but the wet cloth clung to her nostrils and made that all but impossible. She was strangling, dying, slowly suffocating, gasping desperately for air between hacking coughs. She tried to toss her head from side to side to throw off the torture shroud but the ropes around her throat held her head fast. And through it all the VC guerilla fucked her with the thick wooden pole, pushing it deeper and deeper, until she felt as though it were slamming against the top of her head.

The captain stopped pouring water and lifted the cloth two inches above her face, allowing Sharon to gulp in enough air to stay conscious. Then the cloth fell back across her lips and the captain once again started to spill water in a thin stream over the shroud. Sharon writhed desperately against the ropes that pinned her to her torture board, trying to keep her mouth closed but unable to get enough air through her nose. She felt the pole being shoved and twisted deep inside her and her back arched against the ropes, pushing her breast against the sharp point of the captain’s knife. Slowly the captain worked the knife into Sharon’s nipple, slicing at the delicate flesh until she couldn’t contain her screams of pain anymore. Then the cloth was back filling her mouth, the water once more running into her lungs, her breasts rising and falling on her heaving ribcage as she fought for air, her incessant coughing making breathing impossible. Again her consciousness started to slip away and she was sure that if she blacked out she would stop breathing and die. Not a bad thing, her rational brain told her as everything began to go dark, an end to the torture. But she knew with a certainty much deeper than that that she must live, that she couldn’t allow this VC scum to kill her. Then suddenly the cloth was lifted once again and she was gulping in air as fast as she could.

Twice more her tormentor drew her through this cycle of torture, lifting the cloth free of her face just as Sharon was sure she would strangle on the wet clinging shroud. Finally he tossed the cloth to the side and looked down at his helpless captive. “This just the beginning,” he hissed, “You will suffer for all you have done…for all imperialistic swine have done.”

The captain drew the knife down Sharon’s cheek, leaving a thin trail of blood. The poor girl moaned loudly, more from her fear of being disfigured than from the pain, but could do nothing more than wait for him to continue slicing her face until it was nothing more than a bloody mask. But he drew away the knife and the next moment Sharon felt herself being untied from the torture board.

Bound hand and foot Sharon’s naked body was dragged face down across compound. She was barely aware of the stones that dug at her soft flesh. The guerilla reached the cage in which Sharon had spent the night and with strength surprising in one as small as he managed to lift her inert body into the hellish contrivance. Only this time she was not dropped onto the floor. Instead he held her upright while his comrades scurried toward him carrying two long poles and fresh cord.

It took only a minute for her captors to prepare her. The poles were laid across the top of the cage, one in back of her neck and one in front, then lashed together with twine. This left Sharon’s feet, bound at the ankles, barely able to reach the slatted floor. The only way the naked prisoner could ease the agonizing pressure on her head and neck was to put some of her weight on her toes. Pain shot up her leg like electric current from the toenail that had been all but torn from her flesh.

This was the way they left her, trying desperately to ease her pain, allowing her to choose her torture from between her violated toe and her stretched neck. Within minutes her calves began to cramp, adding new agony. She cried and moaned. The sun rose in the sky, beating down on her nude body. Then the captain was standing in front of her.

“No more,” she begged him, “No more.” He merely smiled and turned away. A half hour later he was back. This time Sharon moaned through cracked lips, “Water. Please…water.” The captain lifted a canteen to the suffering girl’s lips and let the water flow slowly into her mouth. She managed to take three swallows before he pulled the canteen away. “More,” she pleaded, “Please more.”

The captain held up the canteen in front of Sharon and screwed the top back on. “Just enough to keep alive. Keep alive for more torture…more pain. You suffer more, much much more before I allow to die.” Sharon screamed “Noooo!” at his receding back but all that emerged from her parched throat was a hoarse croak.

Posted December 14th, 2006

It was past noon when the two guerillas who had tortured her that morning appeared in the clearing. Sharon was dehydrated and half delirious from her ordeal in the wooden cage. She saw them from the side of her vision and at first could not be sure whether they were real or a hallucination. But as they came up to her she heard them and smelled them and knew it was not a figment of her imagination.

She moaned in fear, certain that there could be no other reason for their visit than to remove her from her bondage for more terrible torture. Then she saw the pot the men carried between them and thought they were going to feed her. For a moment her spirits rose a little from the dark hole in which they had plunged from her ordeal. Although the thought of food had little appeal – it was water she desperately craved – it gave her hope that her captors had decided to show her some mercy. These hopes were dashed when she saw that the pot contained not food, but mud, and crawling in the ooze were insects, slugs and wormlike creatures with antennae and legs – a collection of the foulest looking vermin she could have imagined.

Before she was sure what they were going to do with the disgusting cargo, one of the slimy creatures was being pressed against her lips. She tried to turn her head, her stomach churning with revulsion, but strong hand gripped her tightly, pinching her nose shut so she had to open her mouth to breathe. They forced her mouth wider and held her jaw fast, pushing the horrible “meal” at her while she struggled vainly to escape. She felt the moist carapaces against her tongue, felt the legs and feelers against her gums and palate, felt the slimy vermin slide toward her throat. She gagged and retched but now her jaws were being held shut and there was no escape from her mouth for the creatures except down her throat.

“Enjoy your meal,” the captain said in Vietnamese, “You will need it for strength.” He laughed, then placed a centipede on Sharon’s cheek and laughed even louder as the creature began to crawl into her nose.

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