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From: boonthailand@hotmail.com (Boon)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: Thu, 26 Aug 2004 02:42:22 +0000 (UTC)
Subject: {ASSM} Gentleman's Club (part 2) by John Argus
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Date: Thu, 26 Aug 2004 06:10:05 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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Amanda's eyelids fluttered slowly, and light hit her eyes, hazy as
yet, but clearing rapidly.  Why this place? What was it for, and why
was it so brightly lit?
      She groaned weakly, fighting back a feeling of nausea as she lay
still. After several minutes both her eyes and her head were clear
enough for her to look around her.
        She was in a small room with mirrored walls. The only
furnishing was a low, narrow white table on which she lay. The room
was very bright, and she blinked her eyes as she slowly sat up.
        There didn't appear to be any door, though there must be, she
thought. She remembered the men, and the woman, and her mind filled
with terror as she sat up and looked around.
        She was dressed again. That was reassuring. She wondered...
but then her mind shied away from the thought of what they might have
done to her while she was unconscious.
        She swung her legs over the side of the table she had lain on
and looked around, anxiously studying the mirrored walls.
        An odd place to keep a captive, she thought in confusion.
She'd expected a small dank basement or something of that sortwas all
one wall, really, since the room was circular. It was barely eight
feet around, and she couldn't fathom why she was placed in it, or
where the doorway was.
        She returned to the table and sat down, wondering why she had
been taken. Her parents were well-off, but hardly as wealthy as many
others. And why had they gone through that brutal, humiliating
stripping by the road if they were going to dress her once again?
        The only reason she could think of was they wanted to
humiliate her. But why? What kind of people were they? Were they
terrorists? She'd heard of some cases were wealthy young women were
sexually abused by those who kidnapped them. Her heart fluttered at
the thought of what might await her.
        Then a section of the wall pushed inward, revealing a door.
She whipped her head around, then stared, eyes widening as two
enormous black men stepped inside.
       The door closed behind them... 
       Each of them was well over six feet in height, and wearing
nothing but a loincloth. Their heads were shaved bald, and their
bodies bulged with enormous muscles. They smiled at her and she felt a
stab of fear, slipping off the table and placing it between them.
        "What do you want!?" she demanded, fear crawling up her spine.
         Neither spoke. They split apart, each going around one side
of the table until they hemmed her in against the mirrored wall,
smiling, doing nothing but smiling down at her as she jerked her gaze
from one to the other and back again.
        "What do you want!?" she demanded. "Where am I? What am I
doing here? Who are you!?"
         Edward took his seat next to the glass. There were three
tiers of seats surrounding the small glassed in chamber, and though
not all were full, there was a nice turnout as the men watched the
small play unfolding within the room. Here and there naked young women
knelt beside their masters, massaging their crotches or gazing up
adoringly.
        He watched the girl cowering back. A fierce grin of triumph
appeared on his face as the two big blacks gripped her arms and
dragged her away from the wall. He rubbed his hands in anticipation,
reaching down and turning up the sound slightly.
         Amanda knew fighting was useless. These men were the largest
she'd ever seen. Their arms were easily larger than her thighs, and
they were each more than twice her weight, possibly three times.
        One gripped her wrists, then lifted her arms high, so high her
feet left the ground and dangled uselessly as he held her up and
stared at her.
        Then the other moved behind her, taking her arms and holding
her like that as the first released his hold. He moved his hands down
and cupped her breasts through her blouse, then gripped the material
and with effortless motion, tore the blouse open, shredding it like it
was tissue paper and flinging the front part of it behind him.
        His hands undid the belt around her waist, then opened the
clasp of her pants and tugged, pulling them down to her ankles and
then off over her shoes.
        Amanda quivered in terror, her mind reeling with
anger,humiliation and fear. Doing anything to resist seemed pointless
against this massive men, intellectually she knew that, yet she
couldn't help trying to pull her leg back as one gripped her ankle.
        It was like pulling against steel. He removed her sock and her
shoe, then released her foot.
        The one behind her set her down, then his grip shifted to her
blazer and blouse, jerking them back over her shoulders and down her
arms with a swift, practised motion.
        Clad only in small black string bikini panties and matching
bra she darted away from between them, her chest heaving as she backed
against the wall and stared at them with wide eyes.
        "Please!" she gasped. "I... my father has money! He'll pay you
if you don't hurt me!"
        They approached her from either side, then one gripped her
arms and jerked them back behind her, holding them in tight fists. The
other smiled as he gripped her bra, then tore it apart, baring her
proud young breasts.        Her face scarlet, she fought back tears as
the man smiled thinly, his eyes enjoying her nudity. Furiously she
kicked out, but he seemed to expect it and caught her ankle easily.
Then his hand cracked across her face very lightly.
        Still, it was like getting hit by a cricket bat and her head
whipped to one side as she tasted blood. His other hand cracked
against her opposite cheek and her head was thrown to the other side.
He slapped her again with his first hand, then again with his second,
then again, then again.
        Amanda's mind was dazed as he halted. She tasted blood in her
mouth as the world swam around her. The hulking man slipped a hand
behind her back and pulled, forcing her chest out, then ran his other
hand over her breasts, squeezing them and pinching her nipples into
erectness. He bent and fixed his lips over her nipple, suckling and
chewing as she regained her breath and senses.
        He eased down onto his knees and gazed into her crotch, then
tore her panties off.
        Amanda sobbed as her last protection was removed and the man
stared at her with obvious lust. She tried to cross her legs but he
simply yanked them apart. His strength was frightening.
        He pushed his face into her sex, his tongue lapping up and
down her cleft as he held her thighs in a vice-like grip and tongued
her up and down. It was all a dream, she thought. It was all mad. This
was the product of some dark, bizarre fantasy. She would waken and it
would all be over. But as much as she willed herself to wake nothing
changed.
         The man in front pinched her pussy lips, pulling them apart,
even painfully so, his tongue slithering in and out of her, driving
impossibly far inside her and wriggling around like a snake.
        He pulled back after what seemed an eternity, and rose. He
nodded to the one behind her and she was marched forward to the table,
then lifted onto it. They turned her onto her back and spread her legs
far, the tendons in her thighs aching at the strain as the first one
moved into position.
        "P-please," she whimpered. "Please..."
        His hand cracked across her face and she cried out as pain hit
her. Then she felt his heavy fingers at her sex, felt herself pulled
open, then, as she lifted her head dazedly, she saw him draw back his
loin cloth.
         He was impossibly large and thick. She'd never seen one that
big in her life, not even in the adult movies she'd watched. Her jaw
dropped and she gazed at it in horror as he pushed it in against her
opening.
         "No!" she cried, but her hands were caught by the second man,
pulled up above her and held easily. She strained and pulled, her back
arching repeatedly as her buttocks ground against the table, but the
two men held her without effort as the first pushed his thick head
against her, jabbing with more and more pressure.
        She felt the strain against her pubic lips, felt them slowly
forced in and apart. She sobbed in fury and frustration, unable to do
anything to hinder the man as her opening was forced wider and wider.
It stung, then ached as she was stretched wider than she'd ever been
in her life.
        She cried out in pain as the blunt head of his penis pierced
her. He chuckled, the first sound he'd made, then put his weight
behind his monstrous tool, forcing it deeper.
        Amanda felt every ridge and vein on him as it scraped slowly
through the taut, straining lips of her sex and forced its way upwards
through the soft, elastic layers of her pink pussy sheath.
        Amanda strained and writhed, sobbing in pain as his immensely
thick organ bored its way into her inch after agonizing inch,
straining her sheath out like an overinflated balloon.
        "Oh God!" she cried, her head thrashing as he lurched forward
again.
        Inch after inch drove remorselessly through her
aching,straining pubic lips until he was so high inside her she
thought he meant to force his way into her stomach. Still he pushed
forward, and she desperately jerked her head up, staring down between
her splayed thighs, her eyes widening in horror and disbelief as she
saw how much more of him remained.
        "No! I can't! It won't go!" she screamed, her voice breaking.
"Please!"
        He halted his forward pressure, and remained still inside her
for a long moment. Her head fell back onto the table as she gasped in
relief. She felt him easing slowly back, then suddenly he slammed his
hips forward. She felt the blunt nose of his tool slice upwards and
slam against her cervix. Her eyes bulged as she screamed in agony, her
body thrashing and wriggling, muscles standing out beneath her
glistening, sweat-covered skin as she strained again and again.
        He was impossibly deep inside her, and she thought he must
have burst right through the back of her womb. She screamed as he
ground his pelvis against her, his long, thick steel-hard organ
twisting around inside her abdomen.
        She felt her insides being torn and twisted, and screamed as
cramps ripped through her belly.
        "Stop it! Please God!" she screamed, sobbing helplessly as he
leered down at her.
        He drew back slowly, and she sobbed anew at the blessed relief
as the pressure relented against her cervix. He pulled back slowly,
then pushed back into her again, taking his time, enjoying himself as
he used her for his pleasure.
        But his slow, steady stroke did not last long, and was more
for effect, more so the watchers could see the immense side of his
tool each time it moved into her, each time the full long length of it
slid past her entrance and disappeared up into her body.
        Once he thought they had had their fill of watching that he
picked up the pace, his tool, pre-oiled to prevent damage to the
female glistened as it pumped in and out of her.
         Edward gasped in delight, his cock pushing up eagerly against
his pants as he watched the slut being raped. It was just the first of
the punishments that awaited her, he thought with vindictive lust, and
not nearly the worst either.
        His slave moved forward and reached for his crotch but he
slapped her away, sending her sprawling. He wanted nothing to touch
him, not until he spewed himself over that bitch's face!
         Amanda could hardly breath as the powerful man slammed his
hips forward against her again and again. She'd never been so brutally
ridden before, and never by such a monstrously long and thick organ.
It was pounding up and down inside her, tearing her vitals apart,
churning her guts to a heaving pulp as the man hammered his hips into
her belly with unrelenting fury.
        Small choked sobs escaped her lips as she moaned and gasped
and grunted in an agony of pain and fear, the brutal raping seeming to
go on forever.
        Then with a groan he released his hold and she felt...for the
first time in her life actually felt a man's semen gushing down into
her body. He continued to pump, though more slowly, and she felt his
juices spurting out around him each time he sheathed himself in her
body.
         His member slowly softened and he pulled it free. Amanda felt
hollow inside, and groaned as the taut pressure on her pussy lips
eased finally.
        Then he reached forward and gripped her by the throat. The
second man releasing her as he yanked her up into a sitting position,
then off the table. He raised his arm high into the air, extending it
fully as the weakened, dazed woman struggled feebly, then he dropped
her down and forced her onto the ground on her knees, then onto all
fours.
         She collapsed, but a quick grip on her hair, yanked her upper
body back off the floor, and held her there until she steadied
herself.         The second man moved in behind her, lowering himself
to his knees, his hands moving slowly over her back and buttocks,
thenunderneath, thick fingers probing her sex, feeling the slickness
there, the juices of her previous rapist oozing out.
        Amanda felt tears slip through her tightly clenched eyelids,
tears of misery and anguish as his cock pushed at her, tearing her
lips open again, then sank down into her raw, aching belly.
        His big hands went almost completely around her waist as he
jammed himself in to the hilt, and she sobbed in pain as he mashed the
nose of his tool against her cervix.
        Then he began to ride her, to use her like a bitch dog, his
hips working up to speed quickly until they were slamming into her
with bruising force.
        He shifted his hands upwards to her shoulders, yanking her
back to meet each thrust, increasing the force of his deep, vicious
thrusts so the pain screamed along her nerve endings. Her entire body
shook, jerked back and forth by his rutting strokes. Her head bounced
up and down and her vision swam dizzily.
        Suddenly he slowed, and she tried to catch her breath,
groaning as her insides throbbed and burned.
         "Are we enjoying ourselves?"
        It was a new voice, but at first she hardly noticed. Only
slowly did Amanda raise her tear-stained face, looking up higher and
higher until she saw the smiling face high above her. It was not one
of them, one of the monsters as she thought of them, yet he seemed
oddly familiar...
       "Well, Amanda," he said. "It's been some months now, has it
not? You were quite rude to me last time we met. I trust you regret
that behaviour now."
        Who was he? The face was a little familiar, but she didn't
think it was anyone she'd met before.
        His smile turned to a cold, angry glare at the confusion on
her face.
        "Don't try to pretend you don't remember, you little slut!" he
snarled in an oddly high-pitched, petulant voice.
        Memory dawned and she stared up at him, not understanding at
first. He was... Sir Edward something or other, an old lech who had
groped her at a party.
        "That's right, you whore," he spat. "I had you brought here to
punish you for your insolence! I hope you begin to understand what a
mistake you made!" He gestured to the man behind her, who immediately
picked up the pace, battering her insides with his giant cock,
bruising her buttocks with his muscular hips.
        "This is perhaps more of what you wanted, slut? Hmmm? This is
the reason you would have none of me? Because you wanted to be ridden
like the she slut you are! Well here you are, ridden by an animal
barely out of the trees! I hope you like it!"
        She gasped and gurgled as the man pounded himself into her,
her insides burning like fire as he plunged down her aching hole again
and again and again.
        She gasped as the man above gripped her hair and yanked her
head up to face him, staring at him through desperate, pain-filled
eyes as he smirked down at her.
        Then the man behind spewed into her body, pouring what felt
like gallons of hot cream into her wounded cavity before withdrawing.
         She felt her arms pinned behind her, then shackled there as
the man in front, the white man, lifted her to her knees by the hair
and undid his pants. He pushed his red penis against her face, rubbing
it there, then forcing it into her mouth.
        "You could have saved yourself a good deal of difficulty if
you'd only done what I wanted back then," he said. "Now suck this like
a good little whore."
        His cock lunged into her, and she choked and tried to twist
away, but he gripped her hair tightly, sneering down with a cruel,
shark's smile as he forced himself into her mouth and almost into her
throat.
        Desperately, gagging repeatedly, she bit down on the intruding
member. He squealed like a pig in response, batting at her head and
dancing backwards, then stumbling against the table and falling.
         She stared at him as she gulped in air, then got to her shaky
legs and tried to run to the door. One of the tall black men easily
grabbed her, however, turning her to face him and holding her in place
by a fistful of hair.
        "You... You... You'll pay for this!" he gasped, cupping
himself.

        It was going to be a day to remember.
        Lord Andrew of Scotland Yard could hardly contain his
enthusiasm when he woke Ms McDermitt of the Home Office up in the
middle of the night to invite her to a raid he had planned on the
'secret headquarters' of the white slavery ring she had accused him of
doing nothing about.
        He picked her up shortly afterwards, annoyed somehow that she
appeared perfectly awake and dressed, wearing an expensive and
obviously tailor-made blue suit with a high collared silk blouse
beneath.
        "This better be good," she grunted as she slipped into the
back of the Rolls.
        "Oh I promise you it will be memorable," he said, barely
containing his glee.
        Behind them, as the Rolls moved out, two shadowy figures
entered her flat, but Victoria McDermitt didn't notice as she
demandedinformation from him.
        "It seems these cads had an insider within Scotland Yard," he
said. "They also have several highly placed members of the government
helping to keep any investigation of them from getting too close."
         "I knew it!"
        "You informed no one that I had called?"
        "I said I wouldn't," she said crossly.
        "Good. There's no telling who's involved."
        "Bloody macho men so proud of their ability to overpower
helpless women," she said. "This bloody thing should have been crushed
in its infancy."
        "Well, don't worry, thanks to good solid police work we've
ferreted out their headquarters."
        "Thanks to a young that policewoman Meghan Sims, you mean,"
McDermitt retorted.
        Sir Andrew smiled, inwardly snarling. He should have known
that little blonde slut would go over his head. Probably another
lesbian! He allowed himself to imagine the two attractive young women
in each others arms, naked, kissing, and felt his manhood stir. He
turned his mind away from such thoughts as the Rolls raced through the
night. There would be plenty of time to enjoy his fantasies soon.
        They were soon near the docks and driving amongst warehouses. 
       The car turned into one particular warehouse and stopped. The
overhead door rose and they drove through. It closed behind them.
         There were several men gathered around a desk set against the
wall. Two were apparently unpacking a crate. Two others were drinking
coffee at the table, while another was leafing through a clipboard.
The only woman aside from Victoria herself was a tall broad-shouldered
Mediterranean beauty dressed in a black leather corset and a matching
mini-skirt, leaning against the wall, a look of aloof contempt on her
lushly attractive face.
        They got out of the car and Lord Andrew took Victoria's arm,
leading her towards the desk. She shook it off brusquely.
        "Gentlemen," he said. "I have here Miss Victoria McDermitt."
         "Fancy that," one man said. "Looks nice. Like to see what her
legs look like, though."
        Victoria's eyes widened and then storm clouds appeared in them
as she jerked her head around to glare at Lord Andrew.
        "Well?" he said.
        "Well what?" she snapped.
        "Well show him."
        "If this is your idea of a joke you old -"
        "Oh I'm not joking at all," he said, calmly removing his own
blazer.
        "Lord Andrew if you don't explain..."
        The back of his hand caught her in mid sentence, smashing into
her mouth and knocking her backwards. She fell against some boxes then
stumbled to the floor with a cry of shock.
        Lord Andrew cracked his knuckles as he walked over to her, a
smug smile on his face
.       "You... you..."
        "Indeed," he said.
        He dropped to his knees, straddling her, another backhand
sending her reeling back to the floor as she tried to sit. He gripped
the front of her blouse and tore it open, exposing a frilly little
half bra containing her full breasts. He tore the bra open and let his
pudgy fingers sink into them, groping and mashing them together.
        "B-bastard!" she half sobbed, sitting up, clawing at him.     
   Another backhand sent her flying back, then he straddled her body,
his knees pinning her arms at her sides as he began to methodically
slap her face. Again and again and again his heavy blows sent her head
jerking from side to side, until her face was beet red and her mind
spinning dazedly.
        Then he moved down her body, bending and sliding his lips and
tongue over her breasts. He bit freely and deeply, ignoring her sobs
of pain and feebly flailing hands, chewing and digging his teeth into
her sensitive nipples.
        He lifted his head with a crow of laughter, then opened her
trousers, unzipped them, then simply tore them open wider, ripping the
thin fabric at the crotch to completely expose her inner thighs and
the soft white panties she wore. He gripped her panties, tearing them
off and then snickered at her tight cleft.
        "Here's one that's long overdue to get plugged," he called to
the watching men.
        Victoria groaned weakly, wriggling and trying to pull away.
Lord Andrew spread her legs wide and knelt on her thighs, then began
to slap at her breasts with both hands, slowly, enjoying every second
and every cry of pain.
       "Slut! Filthy, despicable pervert!"
        He undid his pants and pulled free his engorged cock, then
thrust it into her with every bit of force he held. She was no virgin,
but she was quite tight, and entirely dry as he pounded himself into
her, and she screamed in pain and shocked humiliation as he laughed
and dropped heavily atop her body.
        She gasped in horror, humiliation and terror as he thrust into
her, his heavy body pinning her to the floor as his manhood tore in
and out of her despoiled sex. All around her she could see the others
watching, smirking, laughing at her rape. She cast her eyes in mute
appeal to the single woman but that beauty looked back in amusement
and even excitement.
        Lord Andrew rutted fiercely, thrusting into her again and
again, his lips crushing down on hers as he gripped her hair and
forced her head back. She whimpered helplessly, feebly trying to push
him away as he continued to drive himself into her with brutal and
relentless energy.
        Then he was done, pouring his semen into her. He lay atop her
for a few moments, then rose to his feet, putting his cock back into
his pants as he looked down with contempt and satisfaction.
        "Well that's about done for you, you slut," he said.
         Victoria lay there spread-eagled, gasping, whimpering, her
blazer and blouse wide open, her pants torn open at the crotch. She
made no effort to close her legs for she hurt terribly there and her
mind was still dazed from the sudden violence which had been inflicted
upon her.
         Lord Andrew knelt, gripped her hair, and lifted her head,
jamming the muzzle of a gun into her open mouth.
        "In the morning, a warrant will be issued for your arrest," he
said with glee. "Your flat will be found to be stuffed full of kiddy
porn, and we'll have produced at least one pathetic young girl who'll
tell the world how the nasty old bull dyke raped her at an early age.
You, of course, will have fled, and despite our best efforts it's most
unlikely your body will ever be found."
        The woman stepped away from the wall and came over to them.
"Don't kill her. Let me have her."
        "I've decided to kill her, Lisette," Lord Andrew snapped.
         "That would be a waste. I can make considerable use of her.
Besides, you don't really want her misery to end so quickly, do you?"
        Lord Andrew snorted and glared down at the terrified woman
below her. "Very well. Have your fun with her, Lisette."
        He pulled the gun out of her mouth and stood up as the woman
moved forward with a slow smile on her face. "Get up, you," she
ordered.          Victoria stared up at her dazedly, trying to come to
terms with the fact that she had almost been murdered, that Lord
Andrew was actually been going to kill her.
        Lisette leaned over and gripped her hair, yanking her up off
the floor. Victoria screamed in pain, clawing weakly at the woman's
powerful arm even as her pants slipped down around her ankles.
        Lisette dragged her forward but she stumbled over the pants
around her ankles and dropped to the floor again. Lisette sneered,
dropping onto her back. In seconds she had yanked her blazer back over
her shoulders, then pulled the torn remnants of her blouse and bra
back over her shoulders and bound them in tight knots behind her,
pinning her arms behind her back.
        She snatched off the pants along with Victoria's shoes, then
dragged her to her feet by her hair again.
        "Owww! Oh please!" she cried as the big woman laughed. "Come
with me, sweet girl," Lisette said with a smile, leading the mostly
naked woman along the floor and into a small room set into one of the
walls.
        There she flung her against one of the walls, eyes gleaming,
then forced her to her knees. She pulled a heavy belt from around her
slim waist, then slipped it around Victoria's throat, yanking it up
tight. "You do as I say, understand?" she said calmly.
         Victoria gasped and choked, then nodded desperately.
        Lisette smiled and let go of the belt, though it remained
looped around Victoria's throat. She stood back, her tongue flicking
out teasingly as she reached down and pulled open her leather jacket
and slipped it off. She ran her hands tauntingly over her own body,
then lifted her short skirt and moved forward.
        "You know what I want, my dear," she said with a leer.
         "Please don't," Victoria gasped. "D-don't make me do this!"
         Lisette gripped the belt and yanked up hard, choking off her
words. She lifted higher and higher, forcing Victoria to her feet,
then her toes, watching with a smile as her face turned red.
        "You do as I say. Yes?"
        She loosened her hold and Victoria swayed, then fell to her
knees, gulping in air desperately.
        Lisette was barely twenty-one, but deep in depravity. She
loved the power she held over others, be they men or women, and had a
wide and varied knowledge of perversity, a knowledge she loved to
share.
        She gripped Victoria's head and jammed her face up into her
sex, grinding her moist pussy up and down against her gasping lips.
        "Lick me," she growled. "Now!" She tugged and pulled and
twisted at Victoria's hair until the sobbing woman complied and began
to push her tongue out and up into her sex. An hour later she was
still lapping and sucking as Lisette sat back in a chair, slumped
down, legs spread wide and sighing in pleasure.
        "P-please... please I can hardly move my jaw any more," she
whimpered.
        "Please mistress," Lisette said with a smug smile.
        "Please m-mistress," Victoria gasped.
        Lisette giggled, then stood up slowly. She gripped the belt
and with a yawn, pulled Victoria after her as she left the small room.
Victoria cringed as she came under the eyes of the men in the
warehouse. Lord Andrew was gone, but half a dozen men remained.
        "This is my little pet, Fifi," Lisette said with a giggle.
"She's lonely and so wants your company."
        "Glad to give it," one of the men said.
        Victoria moaned as the men crowded around her, their hands
fighting for possession of her body. They dragged her back to the desk
and across it, gathering around as her legs were spread wide. Then,
one after the other they raped her, cruelly, savagely, pouring verbal
abuse down on her as they used her body for their pleasure.
        And through it all Lisette looked on coolly.
        Victoria, like other women, had imagined what rape would be
like, but her worst nightmares could not begin to match the terror and
humiliation she felt as the men used her again and again, slapping and
groping her as they poured insults over her.
        And all the while Lisette smirked, glorying in her
degradation. When the men were done Lisette had led her by the belt
around her throat, forcing her to crawl along after her on the floor
as the men looked on.
        She was taken back into the back room and her hands and arms
strapped together behind her back. Then a leather arm sheath was
forced up high, making her elbows press together and nearly
dislocating her arms at the shoulders.
        The bottom of the sheath had a long leather belt which held
two large dildos attached to one side. Lisette giggled as she pulled
the belt down between her buttocks, forcing the dildos up into her
anus and vagina, and not incidentally forcing her arms down and back
even more painfully.
        The strap separated into two just past her mound, with the
twin straps going up and over her hips to fasten to the side of the
strap behind her. Lisette jerked the belt up high, hooked it to a
heavy nail set into the wall, and left Victoria like that, on her
toes, gasping for breath.
        An hour or so later she returned, smiling as she ran her hands
over Victoria's full breasts.
        "You enjoy yourself, English lady?" she smirked. She pinched
her fingers together against one of Victoria's nipples, jamming the
sharp nails in against the sensitive pink flesh. Victoria screamed in
pain, tears filling her eyes as the younger woman smiled.
        "You forget who your mistress is, yes?"
        "I-I'm sorry, mistress! I'm sorry, mistress!" Victoria
screamed.
        "Now that you've had so much rest I'm sure your tongue is
feeling ready to pleasure me again."
        She took the belt from the wall and pushed Victoria down to
her knees, lifting her skirt, and once again Victoria was forced to
lap at the younger woman's sex until her tongue ached.
        A red ball-gag was forced into her mouth then and she was led
out to a car and pushed into the back with Lisa. They drove through
the industrial part of the city until getting onto the highway and
driving to the airport, to a secluded private hangar.
        Lisette got out and pulled on her leash. This was no longer
the belt, but a chain which was attached to the centre of a second
chain. The second chain had a rounded loop at either end and those
loops had been closed tightly and painfully around Victoria's now
aching nipples.
         She hurried along behind Lisette, burning with humiliation as
the woman led her over the concrete pad and up to a small private
plane. Two large men lifted her up the stairs and she then followed
Lisette to the small private cabin in the back.
        The plane took off and Lisette smiled as she removed all her
clothing for the first time.
        "You like?" she purred, running her hands over her nude body. 
       She removed Victoria's gag, then pulled the dildos free of her
and slipped off the sheath. Then she took her hand and led the shaken
woman into a large bed, slipping under the covers and drawing Victoria
in after her.
        There was absolutely nothing she could do, Victoria knew. the
woman was not alone, and even if she could somehow overcome her, which
seemed most unlikely, she could hardly take over the plane.
        Lisette drew her lips back with a pout, then pinched one of
Victoria's nipples hard enough to make her gasp.
        "Kiss back better," she demanded.
        Their bodies rolled together as their lips joined again, and
this time Victoria pushed her tongue out to meet the younger woman,
moaning in despair as Lisette's hands roamed her body and the woman's
sex ground against her own.
         All through the flight, hour after hour, Lisette forced
Victoria to make love. The girl was insatiable, and whenever Victoria
showed a lack of eagerness she had quickly found painful ways of
bringing it back.
        It was dizzying and humiliating, for not only was Lisette ten
years younger than her, but obviously uneducated, if shrewd. And
Victoria was a sophisticated woman who had worked many years to make
others aware of her status, taking great care to always retain her
dignity. To be forced to grovel before this French bitch had been
almost more than she could bear. Lisette sensed that, she thought, and
delighted in it.
       Lisette called her Fifi, and forced her to crawl the length of
the plane, then down the stairs to the airport Tarmac. Even there,
with the sun beating down, Victoria had to crawl along beside the
woman while men walked back and forth, many of them Asian, smiling,
grinning and pointing.
        They were at a small, private airport, and despite her
desperate search she found no sign of any kind of authorities. 
Mortified, she crawled beside Lisette, gasping in pain as the weights
hanging from her nipples and clitoris swung and bounced below her.
        A Rolls arrived and they got into it, Victoria laying on the
floor in back, for, as Lisette told her "Bitch dogs don't get on the
seats, Fifi."
        She had tried a small rebellion in the car. Lisette had
ordered her to lick her feet while she was down there and she had
refused. Almost instantly, moving so quickly Victoria was astonished,
the woman had her hand buried in Victoria's hair, and had yanked her
head so far back her spine was burning before she was even able to
scream.
        Then she felt one of the chains attached to her nipple yanked
hard, then again, then again, as Lisette shook her like a rag doll.
        "You do what you're told, English bitch!" she hissed. "Or your
death will be so painful you will welcome it!"
        The rest of the trip had been spent with Victoria licking
Lisette's feet and whimpering, cupping her aching nipple and trying to
forget how much her scalp had hurt.
        She crawled from the Rolls, again on the leash, and into a
small bare looking building. Inside was all luxury, with Persian rugs
and marble floors. Lisette handed her leash to a stout, older woman,
obviously a servant.        The woman looked down at Victoria in
disgust, and she dropped her eyes, humiliated anew. The two spoke in a
language she didn't know, then the older woman led her away, with
Lisette calling after her, warning her to obey. She went to the sink,
and when she returned she had a straight razor and a small bottle of
shaving cream. She roughly forced Victoria over onto her back on the
floor, then spread her legs and lathered up her mound. She said
something in a warning tone, glaring at her, then began to shave her.
        Victoria didn't dare move as she stared at the straight razor
and felt it sliding along the most tender, sensitive parts of her
anatomy. The woman was careful, but the chances for a terrible cut
were ever present.
        She felt the woman work thick, stubby fingers into her sex,
using them to keep her flesh taut as she sliced along next to her
cleft. She burned with the indignity of it all but dared not move as
the woman shaved her as bare as a child, then positioned her on all
fours again and began to scrub her with rough hands and an even
rougher brush.
         Again water was poured over her, this time very hot, steaming
as it hit the floor around her. She gasped and felt her flesh throb
with the heat of it as the woman emptied several buckets over her
body.
         She leaned over her then, with a towel, and began to wring
the worst of the water from her hair, then patted down her body with
the now damp towel.
        A man came in then, watching with a sneer on his lips, adding
to her humiliations. He spoke to the woman for a moment, and the woman
rose, muttering, and walked out. The man came over to her then,
looking down. He reached down, gripping one of her arms, and pulled
her to her feet, then looked her up and down.
        Tired, exhausted, and still damp and hot, she did not react,
merely looked at the floor until he forced her chin up. He turned her
then, roughly, shoving her against the stone wall, pushing her hard
against it so her breasts pillowed out.
        His hand moved up and down her back, along her spine, down
over her buttocks, then between her legs to cup her now bare mons. She
clenched her teeth, fighting back tears of rage and misery as his
fingers probed at her opening.
        Then she heard his zipper, and a moment later his erection was
pressed against her. She thought at first he meant to turn her around,
but his heavy body pressed into her, crushing her into the wall as his
male organ pushed against her rectum.
        Her eyes widened in horror, and she struggled, but she had
little strength of either will or body then, and gave up after a slap
to the side of the head, sobbing lightly as she felt the sharp pain of
his penetration, felt his cock forcing its way up into her anus.
        His hands ran over her damp, overheated flesh, pinching and
squeezing as he burrowed deeper. Cramps rippled through her belly and
she felt sharp twinges and burning from her rectum as he jammed it
ever higher. She rose to her toes, gasping, yet still he forced more
in.
         "God! Please!" she sobbed.
        He ignored her, thrusting in again, and now she could feel his
pubic hair against her buttocks, could feel his flesh against her damp
cheeks. He laughed, bending and biting down on her shoulder, then the
side of her throat. His hands came around and cupped her breasts,
mauling them, crushing and squeezing them as he ground his loins into
her backside.
        "Bastard," she sobbed. "Bastard."
        He drew back, then thrust forward again, rapidly building up
speed so she thought her insides were being torn apart, grunting with
pleasure at his crude sodomy.
        Then he gave a sudden gasp and pumped desperately, his hips
slapping into her behind, grinding her against the wall as he came
inside her. The realization that his male semen was pumping into her
bowels made her sick, and she almost threw up.
        She turned her head to one side, gasping, eyes closed, and
when she opened them Lisette was there.


        The pain was intense, and Amanda had never imagined her feet
could hurt so much just from standing on them.
        Of course, she had never tried to put all her weight on the
balls of her feet for so long either.
        She was standing in a small brick-lined room, on a small round
platform surrounded by deep plush carpeting. She was nude, her lush
young body glistening with sweat, her breasts thrust out and up. A
heavy leather strap bound her arms behind her back, pinning her elbows
together. A second bound her wrists.
        She was wired to a thick glistening steel pole and her toes
were locked into two narrow metal braces so she could not move them
even an inch. Under her heels were two pedals which, were they
depressed, would cause an electrical contact to be made, thus sending
powerful jolts of electricity up the metal pole and into her body.
        Her back was arched strongly, painfully, aching only slightly
less than her feet. Her long lustrous hair had been wound into a
tight, thick tail, and pulled back crudely, forcing her head back, her
eyes facing the ceiling. Standing in front of her was another metal
pole, thinner than the one she was straddling. The top of this pole
was flat, unlike the rounded one up inside her pussy, and dangling
perhaps a half inch above it was a small but heavy metal contact held
aloft by a narrow wire.
        That wire ran upwards to approximately the height of her
shoulders, then over a small wheel, splitting in half and extending to
two strong metal alligator clips with sharp teeth. These clips were
firmly biting into her nipples, which throbbed and burned with pain.
         She had already had the experience of allowing that metal
contact to touch the pad below, and her breasts still tingled with
shocked pain even several minutes after the event. So now she was
doing her very utmost to prevent a recurrence.
        But it was hard, so hard. Her breasts and back and nipples
hurt so, and her feet... she didn't know how much longer she could
keep her heels off those pedals. Her feet trembled and shook every few
seconds, and she whimpered in misery and fear, her mind frantic and
bewildered by how her life had changed over the previous twenty four
hours.
        In a corner of the room was a luxurious recliner, deeply
padded and comfortable, made of the finest leather. Edward sat in the
chair, sipping brandy and smiling as he looked on at her torment.
        He was nude, and a lushly endowed young redhead knelt between
his legs softly mouthing his flaccid penis, not with the aim of either
arousing or sating his excitement, but for comfort, to soothe his
aching member.        In truth the doctors had found nothing but a
little bruising and a bit of scraped flesh, but the psychic wounds ran
much deeper. Edward found himself feeling fear whenever one of the
whores started to mouth him, and, enraged, had beaten several since
his second humiliation at the hands of the vile Graham woman.
        Allowing the redhead to lick and suckle softly was his way of
showing his bravery, both to himself, and to anyone else who thought
the slut had frightened him.
        Of course, the redhead, barely five feet tall and weighing
under a hundred pounds, was tightly bound. Her arms were encased in
leather sleeves and pulled not only behind her back, but painfully
high behind her back, her hands up behind her neck, where they were
bound to the collar around her throat.
        Her arms were strapped tightly together as well, as were her
ankles, knees, and thighs. Next to him on the table sat a heavy whip,
and the girl well knew what would happen if he even imagined he felt
her teeth on him.
        He raised his eyes and looked at Amanda again, hating her,
despising her, and imagining cruder and fouler punishments with each
passing minute.
        She screamed and he looked up to see her shaking violently,
swaying slightly as she yanked the contact point off its pad by
arching her back even more. His lips curled into a slow, evil smile
and he felt his loins stir anew.
        Amanda could barely breath as her chest burned. She felt her
mind growing faint and fought to keep from collapsing. She sobbed
piteously, not caring any longer about pride or dignity, unable to
stand the horrible and perverse punishments she was subjected to.
        "Please!" she sobbed. "I beg of you! Please!"
        "Please?" he said lazily. "Please what, slut?"
        "P-please no more! I'll do anything you want! Anything!"
        "Will you suck my erection?"
        "Yes! Yes!"
        "And kneel on all fours like a bitch in heat while I ride
you?"
        "Yes! Please!"
        "And of course you'll let me sodomize you?"
        "Anything!"
        "Well now. Why don't we see just how much you want to suck my
wonderful penis, hmm? Let me hear you beg me. Beg me like the filthy,
miserable whore you are. Beg me to let you get your ugly lips around
my beautiful cock. Go on, slut! Beg!"
        She swayed and her feet trembled, her right heel touching the
pedal beneath her. She whimpered again, trying to raise it, but it
lowered and she felt a tingling between her legs, a tingling that
moved upwards into her sheath, setting her abdomen quivering.
        "Please, please, please let me suck you cock! Please let me
wrap my miserable slutty filthy lips around your beautiful, wonderful
cock! Please! I'll give you a wonderful blow job! I will, truly!
Please, oh please!"        She raised her heel slightly, at terrible
pain, and the tingling eased, but then her left dipped and she felt
the tingling again, stronger now. She tried to rise and in doing so
leaned forward just slightly, fire shot into her nipples and she
screamed, lurching back.
         This time her heel pushed down harder, and the tingling
became a crackling charge of electricity. It surged up the metal pole
and blasted deep into her belly with terrible results. She shrieked in
agony, vibrating like a plucked guitar string, her body bathed in fire
as she lurched up desperately.
        Too much, and the fire caught at her breasts, consuming them.
Again she screamed, pulling back, just enough, holding her heels
aloft.
         She sobbed in misery and pain, her body still tingling in the
aftermath of the voltage which had coursed through it, her mind still
stunned in the aftermath of the pain.
        "Would you, er, repeat that please? I don't think I quite got
it," Sir Edward said.
        "Oh God, please help me!" she whispered.
        "I'm God here, slut. I'm your god. And I am most displeased
with you. Now let me hear your beg to be sodomized, you miserable,
wretched, diseased little trollop. And don't forget to call me master
this time."
         "Master," she croaked. "Please, master. Please sodomize me.
Please rape me in the ass. Please use me. I... I'm a filthy, worthless
slut. I'm sorry, master. Please let me show you how sorry I am."      
  He stroked the hair of the girl fellating him and tilted his head
back, appearing to consider it.
        "Uhmm, no," he said.
        Amanda moaned, fresh tears spilling from her open eyes. Long
minutes passed. She swayed forward and another blast of pain hit her
chest, then she slipped backward, her heels depressing the pedals.
         She screamed, the sound echoing against walls long familiar
with screams, as the power threatening to rocket her upwards off the
pole as it crackled up into her body.
        Again she managed to drag herself up high enough for the
pedals to rise, and held there trembling for long minutes.
        "Perhaps I should get this on video," Edward said. "You really
do look quite erotic like that, you know. I'm almost tempted to take
you down and ram myself up your tight little rectum. But I'll restrain
myself. I know how you hate forward men touching your pure little
body."
          Amanda barely heard him. She had never felt such pain, had
never imagined there could be such pain. She had thought she was in
pain during her terrible rape, but now she longed to be back in the
room with those monsters. For things had only become worse since then.
        Her heels sank, and try as she might overworked muscles would
not respond. Her heels touched the pedals and the tingling began
between her legs, getting more and more powerful as her heels lowered,
crackling up the pipe and into her guts like a rising scream.
        And then she realized the scream was hers...
         There was a knock at the door, and Edward motioned the slave
girl sitting by it to turn and open it. A man came in, smiling to
Edward, and, with barely a glance at where the girl was writhing in
the grip of an electrical storm, came forward and shook his hand.
        "How do you do, Sir Edward," he said. "My name is Prince
Achmed Abdullah."
        "Uhmm, well, hello there, er, Your Highness," Edward said,
standing awkwardly as he stuffed himself back into his trousers.
         "I am glad to meet you as your companies and mine have
numerous dealings which perhaps we might use to our advantage," Achmed
said in heavily accented English.
        "Well, er, I'm always glad to do business, but, well, uhm..."
He nodded at the girl on the pole.
        "Quite right, of course. Business before pleasure," Achmed
said, looking dispassionately at Amanda. "Your intend her death?" he
asked.
         "I suppose. Well, er..."
        "She is, I hear, quite new here, yes? You western men do not
understand that revenge is best if it lasts longest. If she dies after
so little time..." He held up his hands regretfully.
        "Well, er, yes, now that you mention it. She would be getting
off easily. There are so many other, uhm, things I had in mind for
her."
        "Exactly."
        Edward moved to the machine and shut off the power, but the
girl kept shivering and trembling for a full minute even as he turned
back to Achmed.
        "I'm er, new, as you might know," he said.
        "Oh course. I am fairly new myself. Perhaps I could show you
around, and we could devise more interesting punishments for this
impertinent female. I myself brought just such a female here two weeks
ago, you know."
        "Oh, really? Well, er, uhm, what did you do to her?"
        "Come and I will show you," Achmed said, smiling broadly.     
   He led Edward down the hall, then around a corner. There were many
sections of the club Edward had not yet fully explored, so he was glad
of someone to show him around, even if it was a damned wog. Still, he
thought, surely the wogs knew quite a deal about punishing and
torturing people. They were all damned barbarians anyway. It would be
interesting to see what Achmed had in mind for the slut back there.
         He was glad he'd stopped before killing Amanda. What had ever
possessed him anyway? That would have ruined his fun with her. He
wanted her crawling to him on all fours, not dead. He wanted her
begging for his attentions. He wanted her as degraded and demeaned as
possible.
         He really did have to mind his temper, he thought. It was
because he was so strong-willed. Strong-willed men always had tempers,
he told himself.


       Achmed led him into a wide room lit by crystal chandeliers, a
kind of grand hall of the tormented, where delectable young women were
placed out for the amusement of jaded guests.
        As they entered, the first thing the came to were a row of low
marble pedestals. The first pedestal had a young blonde lying back,
arms stretched straight down along the far corners of the pedestal,
legs stretched straight up and apart. Her head hung down over the far
side of the pedestal, her hair bound and pulled down to keep her from
rising.
         A man stood in front of her, using her mouth casually, and
Edward felt his lusts stirring as he saw the bulge in her throat and
watched the man's cock slide right into her to the balls. He'd heard
of this sort of thing, vaguely, but never experienced it himself. To
push himself right down her throat like that!
        He simply had to do it to Amanda!
        The next pedestal had a girl bent over on her belly, legs
straight and bent, head pulled up and back, and bound back by her
hair, which was pulled back in two tails and chained to the near
corners of the pedestal.        Achmed led him around to the far side,
where her face was, and stroked her cheeks before pulling his cock out
and placing it in her open mouth. She closed her lips - though not
without some difficulty - and he began to thrust into her.
        Edward licked his lips hungrily as he watched Achmed's tool
slide right into her to the hilt, and watched the Arab grind his
pelvis into her face as he sighed in pleasure.
        He moved to the next pedestal, where another girl, this one a
redhead, was bound on her back, head hanging free. His fingers fumbled
at his trousers, then opened them and drew out his semi-hard cock,
pushing it into her mouth.
        She started tonguing it immediately, sucking and lapping as he
drove it in deep. He felt a tremendous wave of pleasure and
satisfaction as he entered her throat and slid right down it. His
hands gripped her neck, squeezing as he pumped up and down, trying to
feel himself moving inside her.
        That she was breathing with difficulty was apparent, but not
terribly relevant to him as he pumped harder and squeezed harder. He
came quickly and softened, then pulled out, fumbling himself back into
his clothing even as Achmed pulled his still hard prong from the other
girl's mouth and put it back into his robe.
        "I hate to waste myself on one when there are so many
deserving of Allah's seed," he said piously.
        "Uhm er, yes, of course," Edward replied, somewhat bemused.
         "Observe," Achmed said, lifting a foot long metal baton of
some sort off a nearby shelf.
        He turned to one of the women on her back and thrust it deep
into her bare little pussy opening, then pushed a red button the end. 
       She started shuddering and shaking, her body bouncing wildly on
the pedestal as she warbled and moaned in pain.
        "There are many uses for electricity," he said.
         "I see." Edward nodded.
        He took one of the batons as well, then picked up a short,
heavy riding crop as well.
        The two moved along the row, zapping this or that girl in
whatever hole presented itself, and Edward tried out the crop on a
very round little behind.
        In the main part of the room women hung from the ceiling in
various positions. Achmed motioned towards one girl hanging upside
down, legs spread wide, and smiled at Edward. Edward showed his teeth
and lashed her several times as she shivered and shook and sobbed in
pain.         They went on to the next girl, who hung from joined
wrists, whipping and shocking her for a few minutes.
        The next hung by both wrists and ankles. She was older than
most of the others, perhaps by ten years. Still, she was lovely
andfull-bodied, with an intelligent, aristocratic face and soft brown
hair.
        She eyed them anxiously as Achmed produced another curious
device. It appeared to be a foot long tube made of interlocking
plastic mesh. It was open at one end, and at the other had a small
oddly shaped hole.
       "What is your name, bitch?" he demanded.
        "V-V-Victoria, Master," she gulped.
        "Another English girl," he said to Edward.
        He slid the device deep into her opening, then slipped a thin
handle into the end and began to twist it slowly. At first Edward
didn't see what effect this had, but then he realized the tube was
noticeably thickening. The wire mesh was unwinding inside her,
uncoiling and expanding.
        Victoria groaned and her head fell back as she began to strain
at the chains holding her. The tube widened and the plastic mesh
pushed out tightly against her pussy and vaginal opening.
        She cried out, sobbing, her body trembling and shaking.
        "Can you make it any wider?" Sir Edward asked.
         "Not without doing a great deal of damage."
        "Go ahead."
        "Regrettably, to damage the club's general property requires
permission first. It is in case someone has reserved her use, you see,
who might be inconvenienced."
        "Oh, I understand. Of course. But I could use this on one of
my personal slaves, right?"
        "Yes, of course."
        So she was not to die yet. She groaned as the thing inside her
grew smaller and smaller, then pulled free. Her vaginal opening
remained open for some time, her muscles strained beyond instant
recovery.
         Achmed led Edward further into the room and they found a big
busted blonde hanging by her breasts. They were tightly encased in
leather straps, and her arms were tightly bound behind her back. She
swayed slowly in place, whimpering and moaning as men passing by
pushed to set her swinging.        Edward pushed his baton into her
rectum and shot a burst of electricity into her, giggling in delight
as she screamed and danced wildly.
        Next were traditional rowing machines with a little extra.
Achmed sat in the seat and gripped the oars, smiling up at him, then
turning and beginning to stroke.
        The difference, of course, was that the oars were attached to
a long rounded wooden pole directly in front of where the rower sat. A
dildo sat poised on the end of that pole, directly before the bared
cleft of a delicate looking Japanese girl. Each time he jerked the
oars back the pole rammed forward a full foot, burying the dildo into
the girl.
        There was nothing she could do about this, of course, since
her knees were tied apart and back and her arms were bound behind her.
Nor was there anything she seemed to want to do, as her head began
bobbing back with each hard thrust and she began whispering and
moaning in Japanese, her grunts obviously that of pleasure rather than
pain.
         "Slut loves it," Edward sneered.
        "Ah, but think of the effort it required to teach her to love
it," Achmed responded. "It's so easy to give pain, but to force their
minds to accept pleasure is something of considerably
moresatisfaction."
        He got up and moved to a weightlifting machine, turning and
sitting on the bench, then grasping the handles and lifting slowly. A
willowy blonde was lifted into the air by her wrists, then lowered
again.
        Achmed got up and Edward saw her ankles were locked to a metal
bar. Achmed strapped several weights onto the bar, then sat back and
pumped the handles again. He could see the strain in the girl's face
now as her arms were lifted up against the weight trying to hold her
down.
        "How much weight is on her ankles?" he asked.
        "One hundred pounds."
        "How can you lift that much and her?"
        "I am stronger than I appear," Achmed said with a smile.
"Also, the weight of the girl is offset by pulleys, see? So all I lift
is the weights."
        "Ah, so you could strap a couple of hundred pounds to her
ankles and lift her up and down?"
        "Certainly."
        "Just like the old English rack, huh?" Edward said with a
smile.
        "Same basic affect." agreed Achmed. He got up and then
suddenly took Edward's arm and led him towards a staircase. Edward
chuckled when he saw it, for each stair was a naked girl lying on her
back. He mounted slowly, to the sound of gasps, grunts, and groans
from each of the girls he trod upon.        Soft music played in a
lounge upstairs. Comfortable chairs were dotted about the room, as
were small stylish pedestals.
        On one pedestal two lovely women, one black, the other white,
stood together, arms about each other, hands and lips moving softly
and seductively over each others bodies.
        On others women were dancing, masturbating, or simply posed
for artistic effect. Achmed sat him down in the seat next to this one,
sitting back comfortably.
        "So tell me, Sir Edward," Achmed said. "How did you come to
join the Viceroy Club?"
       "Well, er uhm, they contacted me, you see."
       "Oh really? How did they know to do that? A member recommend
you?"
       "Er uhm, not quite, though yes, I suppose you could say that.
You see, I'd er, well, I'd been sort of, uhm, amusing myself, enjoying
myself, as you can imagine, and well, the local authorities were
starting to take notice of it."
       "I don't understand."
       "Well, er, you see, it was like this. About a month or so, I
was walking along, well, er, driving along, and there was this young
lady, you see, quite lovely, wearing revealing clothing and well,
obviously just asking for it. You see?"
       "Of course."
       "Well, I had this American gadget, this electrical stun gun
thingy, you see. And, er, well, I stopped and, you see, tested it on
her. Worked delightfully well, actually, at least that first time, and
I er, well, pulled her into the car you see and headed home."
        "For a bit of sport, as you English say."
        "Precisely," Edward beamed. "But unfortunately, she woke up
before I got home and, well, started becoming rather violent. I
quickly subdued her, of course."
       He dropped his voice and glanced round before continuing...    


        I remember it so well, Edward told Achmed... 
        The girl had struggled frantically, and it was all he could do
to keep his gloved hand across her face, preventing her screams, and
drag her down the stairs to the basement. His heart was pounding madly
and he was sweating as she clawed at him, her legs kicking out, her
entire body writhing and thrashing furiously.
        He was appalled at the fight she was putting up. He had chosen
her as much for her small size and meek appearance as her lush young
body, yet he could barely restrain her.
        "Little bitch!" he gasped, twisting her arm as he dragged her
the final few steps. He lifted her, swinging her around, then marched
her to the small hidden door to what had once been a bomb shelter.
Again she struggled and he cursed as her heel slammed into his shin.
He flung her into the wall, using his body to hold her there as he
clawed at the release. The hidden opening slid aside and he caught the
girl by the short hair and flung her down the stairs.
        He hurried after, hitting the release so the door closed after
him. The girl bounced a few times, then scrambled to her feet and
screamed so loudly his ears almost popped. She turned and raced down
the narrow corridor, passing the open blast door with Edward
following.
         He heaved a sigh of relief, closing and locking the door
behind him. There was no way the girl could escape now, nor would
anyone hear her, however loudly she whined.
        He rushed forward after her and almost ran into her. She was
wide-eyed, having run right into his torture chamber, stared around in
horror, then fled right back at the man who'd hit her with one of
those electric shock devices then dragged her into his car.
        "No!" she screamed, turning and trying to flee once more.
         His hand shot out and gripped her hair, yanking her head
back, bowing her body, then twisting her, gripping her arm and
slamming her into the stone wall. She yelled in pain, but he pinned
her arm up behind her back now and marched her back into the small
room he'd fitted out to exorcise his personal demons.
        A fist to her gut halted her wild and desperate struggle, and
as she sagged to her knees he hurriedly fetched a rope from the
cupboard and squatted before her. He wound it tightly around one slim
wrist, then pulled the other out from where it was clutching her
stomach, wrapping the rope around it, then binding them tightly
together.
        It was a slapdash affair, but no less tight and effective for
that. He heaved a sigh of relief, then looked upwards to the several
hooks he'd hung on chains from the ceiling. He dragged the girl to her
feet by the hair and led her under one, then lifted her arms high
above her and, with a deal of effort as she began to struggle again,
slipped her wrists over the hook.
        He stepped back, panting for breath, then stumbled to the
cupboard and poured himself a stiff brandy, shaking his head as he
turned to regard the girl.
        About twenty, and not much over five feet tall, the young
woman he'd captured with that difficult to obtain (and faulty) stun
gun was stretched tightly before him. Her toes barely touched the
floor and her wrists were tightly held high above her. She had a small
rounded face with large brown eyes and a pouty little mouth. Her
chestnut hair was cut short, and she was wearing a tight black mini
and a now-torn white blouse.
        "Bastard!" she groaned, half sobbing.
        "You'll soon find out what I am," he gasped, recovering his
breath even as she recovered hers.
        He moved over to her, then undid her skirt. She
triedhalf-heartedly to kick out at him but the fight seemed to have
gone out of her. The skirt dropped to the floor and he licked his lips
as he beheld her bare thighs, his erection well under way now.
        She wore a pair of small, silky, high cut pink panties, and
with a single strong pull he tore them away, baring her small, neatly
trimmed bush and the darker line of her sex hidden between her thighs.
        Tears filled her eyes and she struggled weakly, wriggling like
a fish on the end of a hook as Edward tore at her blouse. It was
harder to remove, but in less than a minute only shreds remained, and
then not even shreds. Her bra he had to cut off, but then he stood
back to admire his handiwork, trembling with excitement and lust, his
cock hard against his tight trousers.
        The girl groaned, her face filled with terror and humiliation.
Her toes twitched above the floor, and her belly was indented below
her shapely full breasts.
        Edward moved around her slowly, admiring her firm
roundbuttocks. He reached out and squeezed them, making her cry out in
alarm and kick out with her feet.
        "That's not on, girl," he said roughly. "If you do anything
more to get on my nerves I'll teach you just what I do to nasty little
girls around here."
        His voice was icy and she halted her struggles, gasping for
breath as he moved around in front of her. He reached out, his angry
eyes boring into hers, and cupped her right breast. He smiled thinly
as his fingers sank into the soft flesh and she made no resistance.
        "Slut," he spat, pinching her nipple cruelly.
        She gasped and whimpered but did not attempt to kick out as he
bent and folded his lips around her nipple. He chewed hungrily at her
flesh, his tongue whipping across the sensitive surface of her nipple,
his lips sucking furiously as his fingers mauled both her prized orbs.
         He stepped back, gulping in air, his face alive with
excitement and passion.
        "Slut!" he repeated.
        His hand drew back and then lashed out, his open hand cracking
against the side of her face and sending her head spinning to the
side.
         She cried out, then cried out again as his other hand caught
her on the opposite cheek and flung her head back. Again he slapped
her, then again, then again, each time cursing her.
        Dazed, moaning, she let her head hang down as he moved behind
her, this horrible man who hated her for no reason she could imagine.
         He stood behind her, his eyes fixed on her beautiful form, on
the smoothness of her back and the spine running down to her rounded
buttocks. She was so helpless, so utterly helpless, and he could do
anything he wanted to her.
        Anything.
        He picked up his strap, the one he'd taught the others to
fear, and twisted it through his fingers again and again as he ran his
eyes up and down her soft ivory skin.
        Then he stepped forward and raised his arm, pulling it back.
His eyes were fixed on the centre of the young woman's back. With a
shudder, he drew his arm back and then swung it forward. The strap
flew through the air and whipped down across her lower back with a
crack! that echoed around the small room.
        The girl's back arched as her lower body tried to
instinctively pull away from the pain that bit into it, and after an
instant's hesitation she cried out in pain, her voice high-pitched and
filled with terror.        Again he lashed out, another crack!
testifying to the strength of the blow. This time she screamed, her
legs kicking out wildly, her body twisting and spinning.
        He waited for her movements to ease, breathing hard, knowing
from the feel that if he reached down and squeezed himself even once
he would explode.
        "Please! Please, sir!" the girl cried, tears trickling down
her cheeks. "Please don't hurt me! I'll do anything you want!"
        "Of course you will," he murmured, moving behind her.
         Crack! Crack! Crack!
        The girl howled as the strap whipped across her back, jerking
and dancing wildly on the end of the hook. She tried to keep him from
her back, twisting to face him, or trying to, even as tears poured
from her eyes.        Impatiently he swung his arm cruelly and the
long leather strap cracked down across one of her breasts.
        Her scream made him wince even as his cock pulsed with
delight. He watched the soft round orb redden even as tears fell from
her face onto the softly rounded surface and trickled down over the
small pink nipple.
        "Slut!" he said with a cruel smile.
        He moved behind her and the strap began to fall again, raising
angry red lines of pain across her shoulders, her lower back, then her
buttocks and upper thighs. After dozens of blows her screams faded,
became soft cries and grunts.
        He halted, panting for breath, then moved in behind her. His
hands shook as he undid his trousers and pulled his erection free. He
jammed it in between her red buttocks, rubbing it there for only
seconds before he exploded, his come spewing out across her wounded
flesh.
         He staggered back and fell into a padded chair, gasping for
breath.
        He was neither surprised nor annoyed at his quick climax. He
had always been like that - the first time. This had made relations
with women under normal circumstances embarrassing. But he would hold
out longer the second time, and still longer the third. Edward's
required little time between climax and erection provided he had the
proper stimulus. And hanging there in front of him, groaning weakly,
helpless, aching with pain, was more than enough stimulus.
        No doubt she would be easier to handle now. They always were. 
       He did up his trousers, then stood and moved forward. He
gripped her arms and raised her, lifting her wrists over the hook,
then letting her sag to her knees on the floor before him.
        He looked down at her teary-eyed face, feeling tremendous
power. He smiled at her, revelling in her helplessness, then slowly
undid his zipper and opened his trousers. He let them fall and smiled
again as she tried to turn her head away.
        He gripped her hair and she cried out in pain, fresh tears
filling her eyes.
        "You know what I want, slut," he growled.
        He pulled her face in against his crotch, rubbing her face
against his groin.        "Do it," he ordered. "Take it into your
mouth."
         With a brief sob she obeyed, and he sighed as her lips
slipped around his tool and she took him all inside her warm oral
cavity. She sucked and licked at it tentatively and he quickly began
to harden.
         Soon he was fully erect again and she was bobbing her lips up
and down his length, or as much of it as she could take into her mouth
without choking.
        He pulled out at the last instant, squeezing himself as his
juices spurted forth, splattering across her upturned face.
        She whimpered, but was held tightly by the hair. He rubbed his
organ against her face, smearing his juices into her pores, then flung
her back roughly so she fell on her back on the floor.
        He removed his trousers and strode back to the chair, sitting
comfortably, facing across the room where the girl still lay as she'd
landed.
        "Come here," he ordered.
        The girl began to rise but his voice beat her back down.
        "Crawl!" he yelled. "Crawl on your belly!"
         She trembled, then sank back to the floor. She took two deep
breaths, then slowly began to wriggle forward, her breasts cold
against the stone, grinding below her as she moved slowly forward.
        When she reached him he placed his foot down against the back
of her head, pinning her face to the cold concrete.
        "I want you to remove my shoes," he ordered, "then clean my
feet with your mouth."
        She looked up at him in misery.
        "Now, slut!"
        "Please," she said in a small voice. "Please, sir, I -"
         His hand cracked down across her face, hurling her back onto
the stone floor.
        "Now!" he ordered.
        Helpless, she crawled back to him and obeyed, whimpering and
cringing, then her small pink tongue licked out almost delicately
across the heel of his foot. He smiled down at her as her tongue
lapped reluctantly along the top of his foot, then downwards over his
toes.
         At his orders she took each of them between her lips, sucking
at it as she licked, then worked her way across the bottom of his
foot.
         When he felt himself hardening again he reached down and
gripped her hair, dragging her up and into his lap and pushing his
cock at her again.
        She took it into her mouth, bobbing her lips up and down it as
he watched, hands folded across his chest, a smirk on his face.
        "That's enough," he said. "I want you on all fours like the
sow you are. Go on. Now!"
        She moaned as she obeyed, and he rose, walking slowly around
her as she knelt submissively. He prodded at her heavy, hanging
breasts with one foot, then at her pussy with the other.
        "This is what you were made for, slut," he said. "This is the
natural position for a slut like you, on all fours like a bitch in
heat, ready to be mounted by her master."
        He moved behind her and dropped to his knees, rubbing his
spit-wet erection back and forth over her sweating cleft. He reached
down with his hand, prying her tight lips apart and baring her pink
inner flesh, then pushed himself forward into it, jabbing at her hole,
forcing himself into her inch after inch as she trembled and shook and
tears dropped to the floor.
        He used his erection like a sword, jamming it into her,
forcing it higher and higher into the young woman's sheath, griping
her hips tightly to yank her back as he stabbed deep and buried
himself inside her hot young depths.
        Giving her little chance to get used to it he began to rut
into her, his hips pounding into her round buttocks with bruising
force, his hard cock pistoning up and down her tight pink tube.
        For long minutes the only sound in the small enclosed space
was her ragged breathing, grunts and whimpers and the soft slap slap
slap of his hips striking her buttocks.
         "So you had your own little impromptu version of the
Viceroy?" Achmed said with an indulgent smile.
        "Well, rather," Sir Edward chuckled. "But then the very next
morning, with the little tramp still downstairs, I had this visit, you
see, from a gentleman representing the club. It seems some information
had drawn the attention of a high ranking member of Scotland Yard, a
Lord no less, regarding my little, uhm, adventures, and he had some
connection with the club. So he was good enough to, well, to destroy
what evidence there was and issue me an invite."
        "It's good to have friends in high places," Achmed said. "And
the club has a good number of them."
        "Yes. Delightful people. A real gentleman's club."
        "Quite a few people from all over the world here."
        "Yes. Quite so. A goodly number of English gentlemen too, and,
of course, quite a number of your people."
        "We know how to treat women in my land," Achmed said
seriously. He leaned forward and slid his hand between the girl's
thighs, fingering her cleft. He stroked gently alongside her clitoris,
then tugged lightly on the chain hooked to her labia. She whined
softly and trembled.
        He eased a finger up inside her, gently caressing her soft
pink flesh, pumping it in and out as his thumb moved across her
clitoris in a circular motion.
        She moaned, then gasped as her small motions tugged against
the chains holding her so tightly in position.
       Achmed smiled and continued to stroke her clitty, causing her
to quiver and shake, her juices to flow down his fingers.
       He halted and drew his hand back, turning to Edward.
       "Now you see what true torment is? I shall leave her like this,
wanting more, needing relief, but unable to obtain it."
        "You're a cruel man, Achmed, to treat a slut like that,"
Edward said with a sneer of contempt for the girl.



         Agent Sarah Bergstrom stared after them as they left,
fighting to control her breathing as she considered ways to get back
at 'Achmed'.          Achmed was Agent Paul Stern, like Sarah, from
the Mossad, Israel's intelligence service. It had taken them a long
time and a lot of effort to infiltrate the Viceroy, and many times
they had risked their lives so that they could get as far as they had.
        It wasn't because of the way the men of the Viceroy Club
treated women that Mossad had become involved. At least, not women
inparticular. It had been ordered to find three young Israeli army
junior officers who had gone missing over the past three years. Each
of them was young and beautiful, and had disappeared without a trace.
        The immediate suspicion was a kidnapping by Arabs. The fact
that they were all so young and beautiful pointed to a motivation, and
the Mossad began to search for powerful Arabs who were known to have a
reputation for abusing young women. Since that was a fairly common
perversion among a number of powerful men in the middle-east the
search had taken some time.
        A number of powerful and wealthy Arabs belonged to the Viceroy
Club, and it was through them that Achmed had managed to gain an
invitation. His cover was solidified by his desire for them to kidnap
an Israeli tourist he'd run into in Cairo.
        Sarah was the tourist, masquerading as a college student. She
had been well-briefed in advance as to what her role would require of
her, and chosen for two reasons in particular. First, she was
extremely beautiful, with a slim, athletic, but curvaceous body. And
second, though she had tried to hide it from her superiors, careful
checks into her background had shown her to be deeply involved in
bondage and sadomasochistic sexual practices.        Sarah had been a
masochistic person for many years. Since it only aroused her in a
sexual context and she was able to separate her sexual life from her
working life, nobody bothered her about it.
       Until they needed a woman to do something they could not ask
any normal woman to do.
        Normal, she thought. She had been 'normal', once, years ago,
before... David.
        She'd been a teenager still, eager to explore strange realms
of sensuality. The sex she'd experimented with had seemed tame, and
lacked the kind of excitement and pleasure she had heard and read of.
David was far older, and seemed - dangerous, somehow.
        Yet the moment they had been alone she had begun to suspect
she had only the merest hint of what lay beneath his handsome
exterior.
         He'd ordered her to strip, and she had, feeling excited, but
quite self conscious. After all, just stripping, alone, was
notsomething she had any experience with. All the boys she had had sex
with had groped and kissed her as they were both undressing.
        Once naked she had stood there, trembling slightly, and he had
ordered her to turn her back to him. Then he had pulled her wrists up
behind her back and tied them there.
        The instant she realized his intent she felt a surge
ofexcitement that almost made her faint. She'd never really thought
about bondage, nor really heard much about it, but as her wrists were
bound tightly together she knew something deep inside her had finally
been satisfied.
        He had treated her cruelly, demeaning and degrading her, using
her roughly, contemptuously. Yet she had revelled in it, and come back
for more. The next time he had slapped her repeatedly, her face, her
breasts, her buttocks, making her squeal each time. Yet her climaxes
had been so powerful she again came back, like an addict, knowing what
she was doing wasn't good for her but unable to resist.
        The third time other men were there. They had raped her under
his eyes, and she had cursed him in her mind, yet climaxed powerfully.
He hung her by her wrists for the first time that day, and whipped her
back until she had been sure it was bleeding.
        Each visit grew worse, until she had finally broken off with
him, a mass of bruises, cuts and welts.
        Yet he had opened a new doorway in her mind, and
alwaysafterwards she had needed bondage and pain to arouse her. She
had hidden this from everyone, of course, or thought she had, until
the Mossad had told her they knew it all.
        Though embarrassed initially, Sarah had agreed to help. She
had thought she had some idea, as did her superiors, of what she
faced, of what they were up against. However, all her experiments and
sexual games of bondage paled in comparison to the perversions of the
Viceroy Club, and that posed a danger she could not admit to Paul.
        It wasn't that the pain or humiliation were more than she
could take, though they often came close, it was that she was finding
herself being sucked in to the role of obedient slave, to that of
sexual playtoy and victim.        She had been kidnapped just as
expected, and, unharmed but with a tracking device planted inside her
body, delivered to an island, which, she had since discovered, was in
the middle of the South Pacific.
          She woke in the strange mirrored room, wearing, not the
civilian clothes she had worn on being kidnapped, but an Israeli army
uniform. This had puzzled her greatly, and at first she had feared
that their cover had been seen through.
        She had suspected immediately that the mirrored walls were one
way mirrors, had been certain she was under observation, but had still
almost given the game away when a section of it opened and Paul had
come through.
        His behaviour had alerted her, of course. He was leering at
her threateningly, and he called her a filthy Jewess and Israeli pig.
She had glared at him, called him vile names, and then he had raped
her.
         He had whispered an apology in her ear as he had torn her
clothes off, and she knew he had no alternative, yet it was still a
bizarre experience. It had been a rough, violent rape, and the only
thing that had saved her from real pain was that he was playacting, at
least in a sense, and because it had aroused her.
        That shocked her, for knowing she was under observation during
it was embarrassing, and though she had played many bondage and rape
games she had not thought of herself as an exhibitionist. But as she
had slowly let Paul tear her uniform off her, and as he had slapped at
her face and torn at her hair she had gradually lost some awareness
that what they were doing was in a sense, an act, and had begun to
fall into her old role playing, as she had with former lovers.
        She had fought hard, but he had stripped her. Then a fist in
the belly collapsed her resistance long enough for him to bend her
over the table there and enter her from behind.
        She was wet, very wet, and her body charged with sexual
desire. Fortunately her gasp of pleasure was interpreted by the
watchers as pain, and her subsequent cries, moans and whimpers were
likewise thought of as the pain she was receiving from the brutal rape
by Achmed the evil Arab.
        But inside her pleasure had soared, and her mind and body had
rolled up and over successive waves of scorching sex-heat
thatthreatened to drown her. She had barely had enough presence of
mind to disguise her orgasm when it came, for it had been intensely
powerful.
         She was still caught up in the sexuality of her degrading
rape when her wrists had been bound behind her back and she had been
led out into a much larger room. There she had seen the crowd which
had gathered around the circular glass room. She had felt humiliation
and anger, yet something deep inside her was touched as she was led,
bound and naked amongst the sneering, spitting crowd of men, led down
a narrow hallway and then thrown into a cell.
        They had imagined something like captive sex toys, like a
bordello for rich men to amuse themselves with pretty young girls,
possibly a little bondage, spanking, that sort of thing.
       They had expected her to be bound and used by other men too,
that Paul, to maintain his cover, would have to offer her 'services'
to other members.
       They had quickly come to realize how wrong they were.
       Immediately after her rape, when Paul/Achmed showed no further
desire to abuse her, two other Arabs, two of the ones they had
targeted, as a matter of fact, joined him and persuaded him to loan
her to them. He really had no choice, especially as ingratiating
himself with them was part of his cover.
        She was subsequently dragged downstairs and hung naked by her
wrists. Paul was nowhere in sight as the two Arabs leered and groped
her, making bloodthirsty threats and cursing Jews and Israel.
        She had been frightened, of course, but she had found her
sexual juices flowing freely and her body quivering with excitement.
Even as she feared them she found herself wishing for their abuse,
wanting them to do unspeakable things to her.
        And they had.
        Sneering at her, slapping and pinching and kicking her, they
had quickly bent her across a low bench, her legs strapped straight to
one side of the table's legs at ankle, knee, and thigh, her arms
strapped to the second set of legs at wrist, elbow and biceps. A final
heavy strap was pulled across her back and cinched so tightly she
could hardly breath.
        They took turns raping her then, rutting as hard and furiously
as they could, pounding their erections into the softness of her
silken tunnel as she gasped and moaned helplessly.
        Then had come the caning as bad as any she'd ever had, if not
worse, the thin cane cracking down across her upturned buttocks at a
slow, measured pace that she thought might drive her insane. Blast
after blast of incredibly sharp pain bit into her exposed behind as
the men laughed and jeered.        One of them had lifted her head at
the end, lifted it by the simple expedient of yanking up on her hair.
And as she screamed in pain his once more stiffened penis had thrust
into her mouth and, without hesitation, plunged straight down her
throat.
        It had certainly halted her scream, and her eyes bugged out as
she felt he unfamiliar thickness of the object invading her throat.
She gagged repeatedly, choking helplessly, her face going scarlet as
she tried to get control of her reflexes.
        He giggled cruelly, his smelly groin mashing into her face,
grinding down against her nose as he tugged at her hair. She felt her
breath going, felt herself becoming light-headed from lack of oxygen
as her head threatened to explode.
        He pulled back slowly, and she fought another battle to
control her gagging reflex as his cock slipped up her throat and the
head popped out into her mouth.
        He pulled it free, wiping the spit-wet thing all over her face
as she gulped in air.
        And all the while the man behind continued to cane her
fiercely burning cheeks.
        He pushed himself into her again, thrusting himself deep into
her throat, and she gurgled for a moment before his cock slipped into
her and drove down to the hilt. It felt like her throat was going to
tear, felt like his cock was right down inside her very chest cavity.
        Then he started pumping, using her throat as he had her pussy,
his steel hard prong sliding up and down her throat, the glistening
shaft appearing from between her lips only to disappear into them
again as he held her there and used her.
        Yet it was not as bad as the first time, for she knew she
could take it now. The gagging reflex was less, and she controlled
herself and her fears as his tool pumped inside her throat. He pulled
out once again and she gulped in air before he could sheath himself
again.
        The man behind finished beating her, and after some discussion
in Arabic, which she wasn't supposed to know but did, they unstrapped
her and pulled her upright.
        She had been caned many times before, of course, and strapped,
and spanked and paddled, but as she they hung her by her wrists there
in the small room she had tasted the bite of the whip for the first
time, and across her back.
        The pain had driven the breath from her, and she had screamed
helplessly. But almost at once she had felt a hot gut churning surge
of high-pressured sexual desire and heat flooding her body.
        To be hung by the wrists and whipped! Actually whipped across
the back! It was the fulfilment of more fantasies than she could
possibly remember. She had never dared actually go through with it,
though eventually she would have worked up the courage.
        But now she had no choice. For the first time in her life she
was truly helpless. There were no safe words here, no coded words that
would cause her partner to halt and release her. These men were not
acting, not playing, and she truly was their prisoner.
        The next blow had drawn another scream, the pain terrible, yet
her nipples hardened into hot little pebbles and her loins quivered
hungrily as her legs kicked spastically.
        Again and again the whip lashed across her back, each time
drawing a scream of pain and a flashing blast of raw carnal lust that
had gripped her body and mind and shielded it from the full effect of
the pain.        And when one of the Arabs slipped his hand between
her legs and squeezed her mound she had been unable to suppress a soft
moan of pleasure. Cursing her, sneering at her in contempt, he had
roughly thrust his fingers up into her, pumping them savagely as her
legs writhed and her body shook with helpless pleasure.        The
whip had continued to lash her back but she had ignored it. Or rather,
each blast of pain served to rocket her bliss higher and higher. The
orgasm almost consumed her mind. It was more powerful than any in her
previous experience, and she had screamed in wanton bliss even as the
two Arabs cursed and spat on her and whipped her furiously.
         The Arab in front had even begun to slap angrily at her face
and breasts as he plunged his fingers up into her, yet still her
climax rode on, screaming higher and higher until it finally spent
itself and she hung dazed and limp.
        God, how she had hated them, despised them. They were evil,
despicable men, her enemies, and the enemies of her people.
        Yet how she had loved it, how she had revelled in her torture!
        And that had been just the beginning. She had rapidly
discovered just how much delight the Arabs of the club took in
degrading and tormenting Jewish and Israeli girls.
        They lowered her to the floor, then led her to a small corner
of the room. There she saw four red shackles bolted to the floor. Her
ankles were shackled to one set, then she was bent back, back, back,
and her wrists buckled to the other set only a couple of feet behind
her feet.
        As encouragement for her to keep her body violently arched up
they rolled over a small wheeled cart which they placed beneath her.
The top of the cart was lined with needle sharp metal spikes.
        And then the two had picked up riding crops and stood on
either side of her. One began to methodically whip her breasts while
the other rained blows across her inner thighs and mound.
        They took their time, obviously enjoying their work immensely.
The one at her head alternated between breasts, though sometimes,
perhaps to throw her off, he would strike one twice, or even three
times running. The other slashed the whip against one thigh, then the
other, then down on her mound, though, like his companion, he altered
his rhythm so she couldn't brace herself.        She screamed until
her voice was a raspy croak, her body seemingly aflame with agony as
the men jeered and cursed her. Yet quickly the heat seemed to shred
the intensity of each new blast of pain. The throbbing pain itself
became a kind of fog over her mind, absorbing and diffusing the
jagged-edged agony as the crops struck anew, toning it down and
absorbing it into itself.        She felt the sexual songs singing
within her body and mind, felt her outrage melded with the shock and
fear and turned into something stunningly wicked and wanton. Her legs
were splayed wide, yet she opened them more, gasping, crying out,
screaming with each new blast that struck her pussy.
        Yet she wallowed in it, her body revelling in the blows to her
mound and breasts especially. She rose higher and higher towards the
peak of pleasure, her mind swimming, drowning in sensory overload.
         Then she came again, her voice unable to bare the howls of
pleasure, becoming little more than a hoarse gurgle and grunting as
she raced up from the peak rather than down, upwards towards a
previously unattainable plateau of ecstasy, her mind stunned by the
power of the orgasm as it went on and on, carrying her ever upwards.
        Every muscle in her body was spasming and twitching, her
nervous system in melt-down as convulsions tore through her in an
endless procession.        Her mind was shattered, flung back from the
cataclysmic ferocity of the orgasm that was rippling back and forth
along her spine. She was on the verge of passing out, and knew only a
small dart of fear at what would happen when she did.
        But the men halted their beating. One of them, the one between
her legs, cursed her and slammed his boot into her open and vulnerable
sex. Then they pulled the cart out of the way and moved to unshackle
her.        She collapsed soon afterwards, lost to blackness.
  

      Amanda had been given precious little time to understand what
had happened, to cope with it and adjust. They had given her all night
to 'rest' after her shattering electrical torture.
      She was taken to a stone cell and placed down on the floor, her
aching, shocked pink pussy slipped over and down a ten inch long metal
tube protruding from the stone. Her legs were spread so wide apart she
was doing the splits. Her thighs ached as each leg was forced straight
out to either side and shackled there.
      Her arms were pulled straight up above her, shackled together
and locked in place to a low hanging chain.
      And there she was left to contemplate her sins for several
hours.
      Then they came for her, to rearrange her position, they said, so
she would be more comfortable.
      They unstrapped her, then strapped her ankles together tightly
before pulling them up behind her buttocks and encircling them and her
thighs with a heavy strap to pin them together.
      Her wrists were strapped back against her upper arms and she was
forced to kneel there on elbows and knees. Her hair was wound into a
single tail again, this time from the very top of her head, and lifted
up high, forcing her head and upper body high, then an alligator clip
was slipped around her clitoris, drawing a scream from the
halfunconscious woman as the tight, sharp little teeth bit into
herultra-sensitive button.
      A wire pulled up above her and was attached to a hook high
above. Then two more clips were attached to her nipples, and weights
hung from them. As a final measure for her comfort, they pulled her
tongue out with tongs, attached another clip to it, and pulled a wire
taut to force her to keep her tongue sticking out painfully far.
      Then they shut off the lights to let her sleep and relax.
      When Edward casually opened the door of her cell the next
morning, accompanied by two of his slave girls, Amanda looked somewhat
the worse for wear. The straps were gone, and a coarse, heavy rope had
taken their place. A belt around her hips had been made of it, with a
length then descending down her abdomen and up between her whip-marked
buttocks, pulled very, very tight so it was forced up between her
pubic lips.
      Her breasts were thrust out like two overfilled balloons, for
rope encircled each at the ribs, squashing them painfully. The rope
then went behind her under her arms to be tied so tightly she could
hardly expand her chest wall enough to breath. Her arms were tightly
bound together behind her, above and below the elbows, and again at
the wrists, the elbows touching firmly.        Her ankles were bound
together and then bound to her thighs so her feet were pushed up
against her buttocks. Her feet were also bound together, though with
cord rather than heavy rope. The cord wound neatly around her feet
mid-way between toes and ankles. Her two big toes were bound tightly
together, apart from the rest, and the cord pulled them up and back
painfully hard.        Likewise her hands were bound together just
below the thumbs, in a praying position. Her little fingers and thumbs
were bound together separately, her thumbs forced up and back and her
little fingers forced down and in.        Amanda was on her knees on
the cold stone floor, but no other part of her body touched the floor.
She was balanced perfectly on her knees with only the help of her
hair, which was bound still and held high to a hook. A heavy leather
blindfold covered her eyes and a thick ball-gag filled her mouth,
keeping her jaws wide.
     Seeing her like that made Edward smile in delight, and had he not
already used both slaves within the past half hour he would have
raised his erection to full attention.
     But he was content to merely observe her, then go to his
breakfast, the two giggling slave girls following to feed him.
     Sarah recognized the newcomer to breakfast as the one Achmed had
been speaking to the other day and her lip curled upward in disgust
before she caught herself. Then she hurried down to greet him, as was
her job in the dining room that morning.
        Sarah was dressed in thigh high black leather boots with
stiletto heels, shoulder length leather gloves, and a leather harness
that was something like a corset, though not nearly as comfortable or
concealing.
        The harness had two rounded, hard-leather cups which
encircled, squeezed, and slightly raised her breasts but certainly did
nothing to cover them. Lower down it consisted of strips of hard
leather which encircled her lower chest and waist. The strips had been
pulled tighter and tighter and tighter as she had knelt before one of
the attendants, until she had felt like the life was being squeezed
out of her.
        She had felt her internal organs being pushed downwards,
pressing down on her lower organs. The result was not only could she
barely breath she could barely move, and the downward pressure made
her feel her labia and sex organs distended, pushing out with the
pressure coming from above.
        But lest she fear they would tear open and let her insides
spill out a tight, two inch wide leather strap was cinched tight
against her pubic mound, yanked up hard, with painful pressure, then
fastened to the harness.        The strap, though unseen, had two
long, thick dildos attached to the inside, both of which were now deep
inside her lower belly.
        To complete the ensemble a heavy leather collar was around her
neck, hard and thick, forcing her to keep her head up firmly.
        "Welcome to the dining hall, master," she said gaily. "We're
so happy you could come! Where would you like to be seated?"        "I
don't care," he said.
       "Would you like to come this way then, please, master?" she
asked.
        He motioned her ahead and she led him to an available table,
then bowed - with great effort - and presented him with a menu as the
two slaves, clad only in chains and G-strings, knelt at his feet.
        "It is our pleasure to serve you in every way, master! What
may I bring you?"
        "Shut the fuck up until I decide."
        "Yes, master! Sorry, master!"
        Sarah stood there in discomfort, considering the hundred
different ways she could end his life, and which would be more painful
and take the longest amount of time. It wasn't that this Englishman
was particularly more brutal than any of the other men around. It was
more, she thought, that he was so much less of a man than he seemed to
think.
         Word had quickly got around that he had had two of the
attendants conduct the rape of that girl he had brought in rather than
do it himself as almost all the members did with personal prisoners.
And then she'd bitten his cock and sent him squealing like a pig!
Since then he'd made sure she was tightly bound whenever he was in her
presence, and had hadn't yet even dared to use her sexually,
contenting himself with torturing her.
        Not that being used by such a dog wouldn't be torture in its
own way, she thought wryly.
        "Bring me a couple of poached eggs and a coffee, black," he
said, dismissing her.
        "Yes, master! Right away, master!" she sang, turning and
hurrying - as much as she could - away.
        Among those who showed up for breakfast - many members had
breakfast delivered to their rooms - was Paul/Achmed.
        He came to her section of the dining room, and pulled her
across his lap so they could talk without arousing suspicions.
        "Ow. God!" she whispered.
        "What's the matter?"
        "What's the matter is I have two large dildos up inside me,"
she gasped, still trying to smile in case any others were watching.
        "Really? Well, that must make you happy," he said, reaching
out and cupping her breast.
        Sarah restrained a glare, keeping her face smiling as he
tweaked her nipple.
        "I have some news," he said. "I've found one of the girls.
Gabrielle. She's a privately owned slut that belongs to a man named
Omar. He doesn't let any other men touch her except to beat her."
        "Was he one of the men who beat me when..."
        "No, those were other admirers. By the way they want to do it
again tomorrow."
        She shuddered and he smiled and pinched her nipple.
        "Don't worry. I said you were busy."
        "Thank you," she said, both relieved and oddly disappointed.
         "I've offered you to Omar instead."
        She blinked her eyes and opened her mouth.
        "I told him you could do a lesbian show with Gabrielle. He
hasn't subjected her to anything like that yet, and as you know she
was quite religious. So she won't be happy. But with the two of you
close together I'm hoping you can say something to her, letting her
know to hold on, that help will be here soon."
        "If I do then she might tell them the next time he beats her."
        "I don't think so. I think given what she's already been
through it will allow her to take his new torments without going
insane. She must be halfway mad by now. Unlike you she isn't a crazed
slut."
        "I'm not a slut," she said resentfully.
        He pulled back on her hair and she gasped in pain
        "You're as much of a slut as it's possible to be," he said
coldly. "You think I don't see you coming whenever any man sticks his
cock into you!? Now do what you're told, or it won't be the Arabs
taking a whip to your back, but a Jew!"
        He loosened his grip and she looked at him strangely, then
swallowed whatever she had intended.
        He felt a little uneasy, for he was finding himself much more
relaxed about giving pain and abuse to the sluts here - and he had to
continuously remind himself they weren't sluts, but prisoners.
        For that matter, Sarah was a fellow agent playing a role, yet
he kept seeing her as a nympho slave and feeling the urge to treat her
as such.        He started to apologise, then abruptly halted and
changed his tone.
        "Tell me, slut," he said, noting the arrival of one of the
Arabs he was seeking to ingratiate himself with, "does that strap push
up very hard against your little bare pussy?"
        "Yes, master," she said.
        "Hello Achmed," the man said.
        "Omar. How good to see you," he said, rising and shaking his
hand.
        "The strap not only pulls up tight but it has other
advantages, doesn't it, slave," Omar snorted.
        "Yes, master!" she said gaily.
        "What other advantages?" he Paul curiously.
        Omar sniffed in amusement, then reached behind her and
unbuckled the strap, letting it fall away, at least as far as it
would. Then he gripped the bottom and pulled until the two thick
leather dildos began to slide out from her rectum and pussy.
       "Ah, keeping them happy," he said.
        Omar pulled the two long dildos almost completely out, then
thrust them back up sharply, making her gasp and shudder and rise onto
her toes briefly.
       "Who has shaved her mound?" he asked, scowling. "I did not give
permission for that."
        He found himself both aroused and worried as he looked at
Sarah's soft white mound.
        "It's standard procedure for them all, Achmed," Omar
explained. "Keeps them cleaner."
        He tugged the dildos completely free and lifted the belt,
displaying her barren sex.
        "It is attractive, in a way," Paul said, licking his lips.
        "It shows what they are, anyway," Omar said. "Just walking
cracks waiting to be used."
        Omar moved to shove the dildos back in but Paul halted him,
reaching up and running his hand back and forth over her mound,
rubbing it softly as she squirmed inwardly.
        "You can see she likes that," Omar said.
        "Yes. I like it myself," Paul agreed, grinning at Sarah.
         He pulled her over his lap, his fingers probing her swollen
labia, stroking against her throbbing sex as she as she gasped and
moaned, and ground her helplessly behind back at his fingers.
        He knew he would get in trouble for this if his superiors ever
found out. On the other hand it wasn't likely Sarah would tell anyone,
and his erection was getting painful.
        "Hot little slut, isn't she?" he said.
        "Some of them take to it like a fish to water," Omar said.
"Though others have to be broken."
        "Uh... Uh... Uh... Uh... Uh..." Sarah groaned, her behind
bucking and grinding as sex-heat flooded her body.
        Then she was pulled off and stood upright on shaky legs.
        "Go and get my breakfast, slut," Paul/Achmed said.
        She almost glared at him, but that would have required a
beating with Omar as a witness, and she caught herself in time,
stumbling off to the kitchen to get the food he'd already ordered.
        She could not touch herself between there and the table, for
to do so was to bring on the most severe of punishments, and as a
result she was hot and frustrated when she brought the plate back to
Paul's table.
        He promptly fingered her again, to the point where she was
dancing from one leg to the other, her body undulating helplessly.
        And again he stopped, turning to his meal and his conversation
with Omar as she stood there panting and gasping.
       "You're being very cruel to the little Jew slut, Achmed," Omar
said in amusement.
       "It's a rough life," he said with a shrug.
       "I think she needs a little relief. Come here, Jew," he
ordered. He turned to Achmed. "With your permission, of course."
        Achmed shrugged and nodded and Omar yanked her down across his
lap, let his fingers trail up and down her sopping cleft, then began
to spank her, not on her behind, but on her bare mound.
        At first the blows sent shock waves of pain and nausea through
her body, but even as she squealed and kicked helplessly the sexual
heat overcame the pain, and soon she was gasping and bucking back,
thrusting herself up to meet each new blow until the orgasm howled
through her system and she began to shake and tremble violently.
        A portion of her felt humiliation at this public display of
her weakness, especially in front of Paul, but she could do nothing to
repress the massive release of sexual energy as it flared around her.
Each new slap against her exposed pussy made her squeal in new
pleasure, until she finally collapsed limply across Omar's lap,
groaningexhaustedly.
        She then dazedly licked Omar's hand clean, before having the
dildos stuffed back into her belly and the strap buckled behind her.
Then she went back to serving the new arrivals.
       A couple of hours later, after a shower, her hair made up and
make-up on, wearing the same leather boots and gloves, but with a
G-string now and a soft glistening leather bustier, she accompanied
Achmed to see Salaam, the Arab in personal possession of one of the
Israeli girls.
        Sarah was not enthusiastic about having sex with another
woman. She'd done it on one previous occasion, an assignment involving
a lesbian spy, but she didn't like it. Still, she was finding that she
was so constantly and powerfully aroused these days that even the
thought of going down on a woman was not nearly as unpleasant as it
once had been.
        Gabrielle Stein had once had long wavy hair. She had prized it
so much that, despite how difficult it was to maintain under military
conditions, she had carefully washed and bound it up tightly each
morning.
        But that was gone now. When beatings and torture had failed to
break her to the proper degree of respect Jubal felt was necessary for
a Jewess her hair had been shaved off.
        After the hours long gang rapes and then tortures she had been
subjected to it was the final indignity, robbing her of last vestiges
of humanity. Now she didn't seem to care what was done to her,
andsubmitted meekly to whatever punishment or abuse was directed her
way.
         A deeply religious young woman, Gabrielle had been a virgin
the night she had been kidnapped. Her brutal gang-rape, which had
lasted through the night and on into the next morning, had seen so
many gleeful participants she still had no idea how many men had taken
part.
        Then, naked, wrists bound tightly behind her back, she was
thrown into the back of a trunk and driven into Beirut. Helpless and
in both emotional and physical pain, she was dragged out of the trunk
by the hair to find herself in a narrow alley just behind a dark
street.
         There her captor led her deeper into the alley and into one
of the buildings through a small steel door opened by another man, a
man who ogled her and groped her as she passed.
        She was led down a narrow stone corridor to a small room at
the end. There she was presented to a large, older man in expensive
western style clothing. Money had changed hands and another man had
taken her further along the corridor and into another room.
        Her wrists were unbound, but she was too weak to take
advantage of her temporary freedom. They were soon shackled together
in front of her in any event, then she was hung from  hook as the man
turned a fire hose on her, soaking her, freezing her, and not
incidentally, having fun doing it, half drowning her as the powerful
stream of water battered her body and set it swinging wildly on the
end of the hook.
        He had turned off the hose, then scrubbed her roughly, using
strong soap and a rough cloth. He had even plunged a pipe cleaner of
sorts up into her rectum and vagina, tearing them in and out as she
had sobbed in humiliation and pain.
        The firehose was used again to rinse her off, then
thebedraggled girl was taken down and dried with rough towels. Her
hair was brushed out and dried as much as it could be. Her wrists were
handcuffed in front of her and she was led back down the corridor, up
a flight of stairs, and out to a small truck.
        She was driven to the airport, and then led out of the truck,
across a few feet of Tarmac to a private, and luxuriously appointed
helicopter, and then placed aboard, where she found the man who'd
bought her, now wearing flowing Arab robes.
        When she had been pushed to her knees in front of him her
glare up into his face had met a brutal slap that sent her flying back
across the carpeted floor.
        Jubal tolerated no insolence, no rebellious looks, no
hesitation of any kind from a woman, much less a Jewess, as he had
been quick to make clear.
        After raping and sodomizing her he had bound her ankles, then
flung her out of the by then high flying helicopter, to be tossed and
twirled and buffeted by furious winds as she hung a good hundred feet
below at the end of a rope.
        He had dragged her up, forced her to her knees, and demanded
she curse Israel and Judaism and beg him to use her again. When she
had refused, hoping he would kill her, she'd been thrown out again,
the rope almost snapping her legs out when it had gone taut.
        The helicopter slowed almost to a hover, then lowered her bit
by bit. They were over water, and soon her face was crashing through
the waves as the helicopter moved slowly forward. After a few minutes
she was raised about ten feet, then dropped, this time splashing into
the water up to her ankles.
        She had kicked frenziedly, but the rope kept her tightly bound
and she couldn't break the surface until it hauled her back up and she
was dragged back about the helicopter. They threw her to her knees in
front of him then and she had obeyed him, then kissed and licked at
his feet until he gave her permission to take his cock into her mouth.
        He ejaculated into her face, then flung her backwards and let
her be for the remainder of the flight.
        They'd got off at another airport. There, hands shackled
behind her, ankles shackled, and gagged, she was led from the
helicopter across the Tarmac to a private jet, then placed aboard for
a long flight to she knew not where.
       Several times Jubal had raped and sodomized her, but the real
hell hadn't begun until they had arrived. Then the whippings and
tortures had begun in earnest, sometimes lasting hours. At the end of
each session she was flung onto a cold stone floor, then chained to
the walls in awkward and painful positions.
        Now she knelt respectfully, sitting on her heels, hands on her
thighs, back straight. All she wore were the heavy iron shackles which
had been permanently welded to her wrists and ankles and the heavy
iron collar around her slim throat.
        Master had a visitor, and she was to entertain.  


       Meghan was nervous, despite the fact that she believed that
other constables had the place under tight surveillance and would be
listening to her through the microphone she carried. Still, this was a
major case. If she cracked it she would no doubt make
detectiveconstable far sooner than her classmates, despite the sexism
of that old fart, Lord Andrew.
        Besides, it outraged her that men would buy and sell women in
this day and age, that they would take some helpless young woman and
carry her off to the South Pacific to have their way with her. And
there were dark hints that rape was the least of the things the poor
victims of this group had to cope with. Whispered tales of whips and
chains, of abject slavery and cruel tortures circulated amongst the
wealthier members of London's sex club regulars.        Meghan could
hardly wait to bring such men to justice and free the poor young women
they held prisoners.
        She looked around nervously, then knocked at the door. It had
taken several more visits to the Carlyle to get the information that
the group operated out of the small office and warehouse complex here
on the edge of London. Nothing was nearby but scrub trees and the
cold, eyeless walls of other factories.
        A moment later the door opened and a tall, blonde haired man
looked down at her.
        "Yeah?"
        "My name is Ann. I've come representing Lord Dodge."
        He motioned her in, looked around, then closed the door behind
her.
        "Lord Dodge is interested in acquiring a companion," she said
carefully.
        "A slave, you mean."
        "Well, yes."
        "Why?"
        She looked at him in confusion.
        "He's got you, ain't he?"
        She flushed angrily. "I am not a slave," she said.
        "Why not? Got the looks for it. Got good looking teats. I
could make ya a slave, girl."
        "Lord Dodge wants me as I am," she said, feeling a tight
dagger of fear.
        He shrugged. "What's he looking for?"
        This was too easy! Meghan felt herself become more excited as
this fool showed so little caution.
        "Well, someone young, of course."
        "Come on down the hall and we'll discuss it in my office."
         He led her down a narrow hallway and into a small,
stone-walled office with no windows. A small ratty looking desk almost
filled the room, with a ripped chair behind it and two small hard
chairs sitting in front.
        He beckoned her to one and she sat down, trying to appear
casual.
        "Yeah, yeah, they all are. We don't deal in old hags, you
know. Does he want a blonde, brunette, or redhead? He want slim or
buxom? Black, white, brown or yellow?"
       "Well, uhm, white I suppose and er, a, uh, redhead."
       "With big teats?"
       "Well, uhm, yes, of course." 
       "Why don't he just dye your hair red and use you?" he asked
with a sneer.
        She flushed and looked haughtily down her nose at him.
        "I am Lord Dodge's personal secretary," she said stiffly.
        "You look like good girl flesh to me."
        "We're not speaking of me. We're speaking of a girl you might
procure for Lord Dodge," she said sternly.
        The door opened behind her and two more men came into the
room, halting behind her chair. She felt a quiver of alarm, even
though provoking them with this obviously contrived story was the
intention of her coming here.
        "We've checked with Lord Dodge, darling," one of the men
behind her said. "He never sent anyone down here to inquire about
anything."         With that heavy hands came down on her shoulders
and she was yanked roughly from her chair, arms quickly pinned to her
sides as the man behind the desk eyed her dispassionately.
        "Would you like to tell me what it is you're doing here now?"
         "I... I'm looking for a girl that went missing," Meghan
gasped.
         "And what makes you think we'd know where she was?"        
"I heard... that you're white slavers!"
        "You heard quite right. We are."
        She felt another surge of elation as the fool admitted it.
         "Perhaps you might find that girl you're looking for after
all. We're always looking for big titted blondes."
        She glared at him then gasped as one of the men behind her
gripped her hair and yanked her head up and back.
        "Why don't we see what you've got that may be of worth," the
man said with a grin.
        She cried out in alarm as her blouse was shredded and torn
from her body, then kicked out at one of the men holding her. He slid
aside easily, grabbing her ankle and holding her leg up as his other
hand went to the catch at the front of her jeans.
        "Stop it!" she cried. "What do you think you're doing! Get
your hands off me!"
        She had no serious belief they would care what she said but
wanted to communicate with the rest of the squad listening in on the
microphone so they'd burst in before things went too badly for her.
         Her jeans were yanked down and her face went scarlet with
embarrassment as the men chuckled in lewd appreciation, then tore at
her panties and bra. She thrashed wildly, furiously, knowing it would
be the talk of the station when the men burst in and found her naked.
They'd be telling tales in locker rooms all over London!
        She grunted as she was lifted up then slammed belly-down
across the desk and her wrists forced together behind her back. She
felt a heavy rope slip around them, then cinch tightly together. It
looped around her wrists again and again and again before it was tied
off.
         Then she was pulled upright by the hair, her head forced back
to thrust her breasts out as the man smirked at her, his hands behind
his head, his feet up on the desk.
        "Very nice," he said. "Lovely breasts, nice body, delicious
face. You'll make a lot of men very happy, my dear."
        "Let me go!" she snarled, eyes filled with fire. "You have no
idea of the trouble you're in!"
        "You'd be surprised at the ideas I have," he said with a
smile.         He gripped her hair and she cried out as she was
forcedbackwards onto the desk. The men chuckled at her struggles,
prying her thighs wide, their hands groping and fondling her in
outrageous fashion.
        "No!" she gasped. "You can't!"
        "Shut her up."
        She cried out in pain as one of them yanked her hair back,
then a thick ball-gag was stuffed into her mouth and strapped behind
her head. They held her legs wide as the man who seemed to lead them
moved into place and undid his trousers.
        "You'll like this, darling," he said with a smirk.
         Meghan screamed into the gag, thrashing wildly, but she was
helpless to resist as he pulled out his bulging erection and rubbed it
lewdly along her cleft. He laughed to see her twisting and writhing,
holding himself against her and slowly forcing his way through her
tight pussy lips.
        Meghan fought to keep from getting hysterical, for that would
accomplish nothing. Every second she prayed her backup team would
burst through the door and put a stop to this before it was too late.
        And then it was.
        She shuddered, her head falling back as he rammed himself into
her. The pain burned through her as he thrust deeper and deeper,
boring up into her abdomen, slamming his way through the soft aching
flesh until he was buried within her.
        She moaned helplessly as his hands moved up and down her
lushly displayed body.
        "Now this is what you were built for, darling," he said,
grinding his pelvis into her crotch, twisting his cock around in her
belly.
        He began to thrust then, faster and faster, heedless of her
pain and misery, grunting with delight as he used her for his
ownsatisfaction. His heavy balls slapped against her buttocks as the
other two men looked on and applauded.
        Again and again he drove himself into her. It seemed to last
forever. And after him came the second man, then the third. By the end
she lay there dazedly, whimpering and trying to understand what had
happened.        "Put her in the van."
        She came back to life somewhat as she was dragged off the
desk.         Where were they anyway, she wondered. What in the hell
had kept her backup from bursting in?
        She was yanked back out of the office, then further up the
hall and around a corner to stop in front of a door. One of the men
shoved it open and bright sunlight hit her eyes. She gasped and
struggled to pull back, knowing the men watching would see her.
        That was stupid, she knew, stupid self-consciousness about
nudity. No doubt they were waiting for her to get outside so they
could take the men without a hostage situation developing. Perhaps her
microphone had failed and they'd had no idea what had happened inside.
         A slap against one of her jiggling breasts made her squeal in
pain and she rounded on the man who'd delivered it, trying to kick at
him, but another hard yank on her hair forced her head way back. Then
she was matched across the parking lot, the air chilly as it hardened
her nipples.
        She looked around wildly. What was keeping them!? What were
they waiting for?
        Her bare feet stumbled on the cold wet pavement and the many
small stones littering it, and she felt horribly exposed as she walked
nakedly towards a gray van.
        They halted by a van and opened the rear door, then forced her
up inside.
        She was lifted up onto a bench and shoved roughly against the
side of the wall, then one of the men pulled a metal bar around on a
swing arm. It was rounded and came around against her throat, pulling
in firmly before snapping to the van's wall on the other side of her
head. At the same time her ankles were strapped together, then a small
chain bolted them to the floor.
        The two men withdrew and slammed the door closed.
        Now, she thought, they'll come. I'm alone and in no danger.
They can take the men outside easily.
        She wondered if they had held off just to taunt her, just to
take their own sorry adolescent joke at her expense. She had no doubt
she would be the victim of taunting for years now.
        The men got in the front of the van, and she frowned as the
engine started. The van lurched forward, and her mind spun as he tried
to understand why her backup hadn't moved in. Was it possible they
didn't know she was here? No! How could they not?
        Perhaps the microphone really had failed. It must have. And
maybe they hadn't been watching the parking lot. That
seemedastoundingly stupid, yet she'd witnessed a number of ridiculous
mishaps since becoming a policewoman.        Could that rotten bugger
Lord Andrew have decided to let her stew for a while, to let them do
with her as they would in order to lead to the others? Would the man
dare to do that to her?
        She felt terribly vulnerable in her nudity. Despite several
months playing a pretend prostitute she was inexperienced about sex
and though not as shy about her body as she'd once been when younger
was still terribly humiliated at these strange men, and probably a
number of policemen watching, seeing her naked.
        Bastards! All of them were bastards! When this was over
she'd...
        The van bounced, then made a sharp turn before picking up
speed on what felt like a much better road. She tried to look around,
but the tight metal pinning her head to the wall didn't allow much
room for movement. She squirmed a little, pulling against the ropes
binding her wrists, but that only made them bite in deeper.
        The van halted and she heard conversation, then the back door
was opened and another man she didn't know came inside, dragging a
young woman behind him. Like Meghan, the woman was nude, her wrists
bound behind her back.
        She was gagged in the same way, and her eyes were wild as she
was forced down onto the bench across from Meghan, her neck bound
there and her ankles chained to the floor. The man cupped one of her
breasts, then winked at Meghan before climbing down and slamming the
door.
        The van started off again and the two bound, gagged women
stared at each other.
        The girl was quite beautiful, Meghan saw, probably the same
age as she, her breasts high and proud, her waist narrow, her legs
exquisite. Meghan wanted to reassure her that the police would stop
them before anything serious happened, but of course, couldn't make a
sound.
        And even if she could she was starting to have her doubts
about that. Surely something desperate had gone wrong to have let the
van take her away naked like that.
       The van drove on, then stopped again. This time a young  girl
was lifted up into the back. A petite redhead who Meghan doubted was
over sixteen, she had large breasts and a terrified look in her big
blue eyes as she was strapped into position.
        Half an hour later another woman was lifted in. This one was
wearing a tight leather hood over her face. There was no eyeholes, no
mouth, just two small holes where her nose would be.
        Her arms were strapped tightly behind her back, and her legs
were strapped together at thighs, knees, and ankles. Her chest rose
and fell rapidly as she was placed on the bench, then the metal neck
brace snapped around her throat.
        The van drove on, and about half an hour later stopped once
again. This time when the back opened no new girl was placed aboard.
Instead half a dozen men came up and removed the four young women
there.
          When she was taken out Meghan saw they were at an airport.
She looked around frantically but there was no sign of any police cars
racing across the Tarmac to rescue her.
        A private jet waited, its engines running, and though she
struggled, she and the other three were quickly marched or dragged up
its stairs and inside.
        The four were placed in a small room, then the engines roared
and the plane took off.

 
       Amanda was not touched by anyone for two days. She was washed,
then soothing balms were applied to her skin. For what seemed an
eternity she hung upside down by the ankles, wrists shackled behind
her, blindfolded, with soft music playing in the room and sweet voices
telling her endlessly that she must obey, that she must serve, that
she was made to serve the masters, that her only pleasure would come
in serving the masters.
       Then she was lowered, the blindfold removed, and forced onto
her knees.
       'He' was there, standing over her and smirking.
       "Well, well," he said. "And how are you feeling today, my lady?
You look much refreshed from your little er, ordeal."
        He bent over her and ran a hand through her hair, then
unbuckled the ball gag and pulled it free.
        Amanda moaned in pain as her stiff jaws were finally able too
close slightly.
        "I trust you've learned some manners now," he said.         He
sat down next to her and lifted a tall glass of ice water, sipping
lightly from it.
        Amanda raised her eyes to it desperately. She had no idea how
long she'd been bound, but it seemed like forever since she'd had
anything to drink, and having the ball gag stuffed in her mouth for so
long had made it as dry as a desert. Right then and there she would
have done anything for a drink of water.
        "Like some water?" he asked.
        "Y-yes," she croaked.
        "Yes, what?"
        "Yes please sir," she gasped.
        "Sir isn't good enough. I am your master. If you want any
water you shall have to learn to ask properly."
        "Master," she whispered. "P-please may I h-have some water,
master?"
        He dipped his fingers in the glass and flicked them at her so
droplets of water spattered over her face. She opened her
mouthdesperately and he chortled in amusement.
        "You want some water, trollop?"
        "Yes! Please! Please, M-master!"        He dipped his fingers
in the water then pulled them out and placed them against her dry,
cracked lips. She opened them at once, and unashamedly took his
fingers into her mouth, suckling desperately at the moisture.
        He smirked anew as he let his fingers slide around in her
mouth. Then he pulled them out, dipped them into the water, and let
her suck on them again, then again. Amused, he poured some water into
the palm of his hand and held it out for her, giggling as she bent and
pushed her mouth into it with an eagerness that made him feel
all-powerful.
        She sucked the water dry and licked at his palm.
        Inspired, he removed his shoes and socks, then, as she watched
desperately, dipped his toes into the water and held them out to him.
With barely an instant's hesitation she leaned forward, her mouth
slipping around his toes and licking at them.
        He laughed gleefully.
        "Not so high and mighty now, are you, slut? Starting to learn
your place in things, eh?"
        He let her lick at his toes again, then abruptly placed the
bottom of his foot against her face and shoved. She flew backwards and
landed heavily on her back, gasping in pain.
        "Want the whole glass, slut? Let me hear you beg for my cock,"
he said. "Come along. Beg me to do you, you rotten little cow. Beg me
to use you like the cheap slut you are. Show me how much you want me
inside your filthy hole."
        "Please," she moaned.
        "Do it!"
        "Please I... please, master... I need you inside me! Please, I
want you to, to use me. I want to give you pleasure, master!"
        She spread her legs, drawing her knees back, exposing herself
lewdly to him.
        "Please use me! Please! Please fuck me! Fuck me, master!" 
        "You're my little slut slave, are you?" he said in amusement.
        "Yes! I'm your little slut slave, master! Do me good! Rape me,
master! Please rape me!"
        He slipped off the chair and onto his knees, smirking again as
he undid his trousers.
        "You want it, slave girl? You want my cock inside your dirty
hole?"
        "Please," she whimpered. "Please, master! Please put your
wonderful cock in my dirty hole!"
        He ran his hands over her buttocks, then gripped her thighs
and forced them wider apart. He pulled his erection out, slapping it
against her bare little pussy cleft. Then he centred it against her
and pushed it slowly down into her tightness.
        "Yes! Yes! Yes!" she groaned as he filled her. "Do me, master!
I want you in me!"
        "It's what I want that matters, you filthy whore," he sneered,
thrusting in sharply.
        "Oh! Yes! Yes! I'm s-sorry! Ugggh! Master!"
        He sank deep, his hands moving up onto her rounded breasts and
luxuriating in their soft fullness. He kneaded them roughly as he
began to work himself in and out of her belly, feeling a sense of
tremendous conquest and power over her as his lower belly began to
slap against her upturned buttocks.
        He had her now! She was his slave!
        He thrust in wildly, gasping and grunting as her insides
squeezed and caressed his sensitive glans, then came with a wild
flurry of strokes before collapsing atop her, panting for breath.
        He pulled out quickly and sat back on his heels to catch his
breath.
        "Water? Master? Please?" she begged.
        He glared at her. The stupid slut only wanted the water! He
considered not giving her any, but then she mightn't believe him next
time.
        He lifted her roughly to her knees, then let her drink half
the remaining water before taking the glass away.
        "You weren't enthusiastic enough to suit me, slut slave. I
think you need a little more time to think about things," he said.
         He shoved the ball gag back into her mouth, then, ignoring
her imploring eyes, blindfolded her and chained her upside down once
again before leaving the room.
         It was a long flight, and there was nothing for Meghan or the
other girls to do but look at each other. The hooded girl didn't even
have that luxury. Before very long they were all very thirsty, but
nobody came to water them. They were left alone with their fears for
the entire flight.
        The plane finally landed, and men dragged them out of the
small cabin then down the stairs of the plane. Meghan saw they were at
another airport, a small one. It was very hot and moist out, and she
realized with a shock that they were probably at the South Pacific
location she'd heard discussed previously.
        Where was her backup?
        The four young women were led across the Tarmac to a
helicopter, then placed aboard and again ignored as it warmed up and
took off. This time the flight was not long. Again they were led
across a small concrete Tarmac, to be placed in another van.
        The van drove them along a bumpy road, then backed up to a
building of some sort, where the four were helped down and led inside.
Meghan had little chance to see anything around her as she was led
quickly by impatient men intent on their business.
        In a small stone room she was untied, and her hands were
locked together in front of her with heavy, padded leather restraints,
then raised high and placed over a hook which hung from a chain. All
four young women were then roughly washed in a quick but casual
fashion. The hood was removed from the previously disguised woman and
Meghan saw she was a lovely, but delicate looking brunette in her
mid-twenties.
         After their washing their legs were spread wide and chained
that way, then a man with an electric razor casually sheered their
pubic hair off, leaving their clefts bare and excruciatingly naked.
        Another man carefully spread a jell over their mounds. Meghan
began to squirm as it burned, but the men left it in place for several
minutes before wiping it off. When she looked down she saw that she
had not even so much as a hair left on her body between her legs. She
was as bare as a newborn.        A tall man came in then and stood
before them, looking each of them up and down.
        "You must all be wondering what has happened, and why you've
been brought here," he said. "I will say this one time only. If you
wish to avoid as much pain as possible you will listen very, very
closely. You were taken here to become slaves. You are slaves. Do you
understand that word? Do you know what it implies?"
        He walked up and down in front of them, glaring at them.
        "You have no freedom now. You belong to us to do with as we
choose. Any resistance, any disobedience, any hesitation will be
punished in a very severe fashion. You are here to give pleasure to
our members. You will do that in any way which amuses them. You are on
an island that is very heavily guarded. Nothing is nearby but miles of
shark infested water. The government which owns this island
andeverything else within hundreds of miles is quite cooperative with
us so you needn't look for rescue. Nobody on Earth has the faintest
idea any of you are even prisoners."
        He paused before Meghan, then reached out and pinched one of
her nipples, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger before
walking on.
         "You will simply have to make the adjustment from spoiled,
pampered little trollops, to devoted slaves. And we will do our best
to help. Won't we gentlemen?"
        The men nearby chortled and laughed in agreement.
        "First, we'll remove this ridiculous belief you have that your
naked bodies... correction, our naked bodies since your bodies now
belong to us... that naked bodies need to be covered in clothing. The
female body looks best without any covering, and that is the way our
members usually prefer it... Take them down to the lobby and place
them where the members can see them.".        The men moved forward
and the four young women were pulled down from their hooks, then, all
except Meghan were dragged from the room. The man who seemed to be in
charge, who had spoken, had her taken into a small side room first.
        "Well, my dear," he said, stroking her damp hair from behind.
"I must say you're the most lovely policewoman I've ever met."        
Meghan's eyes widened.
        He kissed the side of her throat as one of his hands slid down
her back and cupped her buttocks.
        "It was quite fortunate you brought your tale to Lord Andrew.
He's a friend of ours, you see. That was a terrible breech of security
on the part of those two gentlemen you told him about, and they have
been warned never to speak about the club again in such a fashion."
         His hand rubbed slowly up and down between her buttocks, then
slipped down between her thighs to cup her now bare mound.
        "Lord Andrew arranged this little trip for you in order to
ensure you didn't say anything in the wrong ears. There never was any
surveillance on that warehouse, nor anyone else involved. As far as
your colleagues are concerned you are on a vacation in the south of
Wales."
         He kissed her shoulder as his finger pierced her and slid up
inside her tight pussy.
        "No doubt the police in Wales will search high and low for you
when you don't return to work in a few weeks time, but I don't think
they'll find you, do you?"
        He drew his fingers out then abruptly gripped the back of her
neck and slammed her down across the desk. She gasped in stunned pain
as he kicked her thighs apart and squeezed her mound.
        "And now, a small taste of what your new life will be like,"
he said.
        She heard his zipper go down, and struggled wildly, twisting
and thrashing in as she felt his erection against her newly shaved
mound. But it was hopeless. With her arms bound in front of her she
could do nothing as he thrust himself home in her tightness.
        She sobbed in fury and terror, the full weight of her
situation now coming down around her as she realized for a certainty
that there would be no rescue, that nobody knew she was here besides
traitorous Sir Andrew. She had hoped to arrest white slavers and
instead had become a slave!
        She whimpered as she felt his pubic hair against her bare
mound, as he twisted himself around in her churning belly.
        "Get used to it, constable," he grunted. "This is what you'll
be doing now for the rest of your life! It's what you were made for
anyway!"
        He drew back, then thrust home again... then again... then
again as Meghan sobbed and closed her eyes against the rough surface
of the desk.        He used her casually and roughly, his hands
slapping and squeezing her buttocks and moving up and down her back.
When he was done he dragged her to her feet by the hair then gave her
to another man, who took her out of the room and down a hallway.
        She was led into a busy looking corridor, the rug soft under
her bare feet. Men walked up and down the hall, eyeing her casually as
they went about their business.
        In the entrance hall she saw the other three girls kneeling on
a small raised platform. A sign under the platform said 'New
Arrivals'.
         Like the other three she was forced to kneel on the platform,
her knees far apart, shackled in place, then her arms were raised up
and back behind her head, a studded collar buckled into place, and
chained there.        The hall was a fairly busy one, and men passed
back and forth in front of them for hours. Often a man or groups of
men would pause to inspect them. Hands would slide between thighs to
cup newly shaved mounds, or tug back on hair to force breasts to
thrust out. They pinched the girls nipples and commented on their
beauty and worth before passing by.
        Meghan had never felt more mortified in her life. Yet, she was
stunned to realize that even this terrible humiliation could become
routine. For after hours she was no longer embarrassed when strange
men looked at her or groped her, not even when they thrust their
fingers up into her and told her how they were going to rape her as
soon as she was made available.
        She was gripped by a deep despair, however, and, like the
other girls, could not quite believe that this was all happening, nor
that this horrid experience was to be a permanent one.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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