Recruiting Victoria: Part 3 Loving The Girl

 A teenage American girl disappeared in 2005 in the Caribbean in 2005.  She was a naive young woman and she paid a price for that naivety.  Part 3 of this story revolves upon her experiences once she is off the hellboat.  It is about the things both of them learn about each other and about themselves.  It is a brutally dark tale of one man doing whatever he wishes to this girl and she enthusiastically respon. 

 

BOOK THREE—LOVING THE GIRL

 

Day Twenty-Seven: Jorge Makes A Discovery

 

Bossman had left over sixteen days ago and it was morning of my twenty-seventh day on the boat.  I was ready and waiting for the first of the men to show, but he was late.  I’d been through everything now and it was clear they thought I was fast approaching the point of being suitably trained for my new owner.  While still inexperienced, I’d been told that my physical qualities, my ability to perform, ensured that I would be enthusiastically welcomed.

 

I did not know this at the time, but only Jorge had been perceptive enough to have any real questions about what I had been trying to hide over the last month.  But that really didn’t matter anymore for the last movie had finally been able to accomplish what their long grinding days of sexual brutality and physical torture had not. 

 

They’d won!!  In a moment of blinding truth and self-realization, I was finally able to admit to myself that they’d clearly and finally beaten me---I had nothing left within me with which to fight, nothing left to fight for, and nothing left to go home to even if I’d somehow been able to hold out against them.  I had no desire to fight them now, the need having slowly bled from me over the last couple of weeks. 

 

There had been five men during my first five days on this boat of the damned, but only four had actually been involved in constantly physically hurting me.  After The Demon had been kicked off the boat, only Jorge, The Animal, The Evil One and Bossman were left onboard.  But even he’d left after the tenth day and that had left only the three of them to finish ‘putting the polish on’ after that. 

 

In my early arrogance, I would have sworn in the beginning that more would have been needed to destroy me.  But in the end, it seemed that three had been more than enough and they had succeeded.  Oddly, that the Bossman had clearly been the architect of my destruction didn’t seem to bother me as much as what the other men continued to do to me on a daily basis.  I still did not know what to think of him, but my animus towards his crew for some reason did not seem to extend to him. 

 

It was morning.  My cabin was clean, the bed was made and I had already worked out and showered.  I had my hair up now and was wearing a lacy white open-faced bra and G-string.  There was the briefest shelf upon which my breasts could rest and the bra “cups” had horizontal strips of lace both above and below my nipples, and my nipple chain was now connected to them outside the cups.  I actually had been provided panties for this outfit and I’d put them on over a strappy white garter belt whose lacy fabric rode low over my hips.  I’d put the G-string on over the garters since I knew I would shortly be losing the underwear, but the men would still want me wearing everything else.  I was also wearing “cappuccino” flesh-toned stockings and strappy white sandals with a five-inch stiletto heel. 

 

I sat on the edge of the bed waiting for the first of my Masters to enter.  Any remaining spirit I might have had had been crushed yesterday with the videos, but my mind had begun to sizzle with what I had been shown, trying to figure out what it meant, if anything.  Broken in as roughly as I had been, I knew I was now able to handle the never-ending sex these men demanded of females in my position, and I had even figured out how to shut my mind down and just endure the punishments and pain they inflicted upon my body.  But the three videos of me shown yesterday had destroyed any equilibrium I might have developed---and worst of all, I felt they had attempted to permanently take away my family.  The videos were so untrue, so….so…..unfair!!! 

 

Yet I accepted them for concepts like fairness no longer had meaning in my life.  Bossman had told me this earlier, and while I had not believed him at the time, he had been right.  Somehow, last night I finally understood that I had truly accepted what I was to become.  And the more I pondered this realization, the more it brought almost a sense of relief, a feeling of calmness which gently settled upon me as I ended in my mind the struggle I’d been fighting for four weeks now.

 

The mirror never lied—yet sometimes it was all lies.  Physically, even though I was worn out, I knew I still looked great.  For some reason, I had lost only a couple of pounds and even though I still ached now and then, the daily workouts had me in the best shape of my life. 

 

I had finally become more comfortable wearing the giant two-inch wide butt plug and realized I could even sit a little more easily than I had before.  And now, I often found I didn’t even feel it inside me as I sat deep in thought. 

 

Finally, Jorge walked through the door into my cabin and interrupted my thoughts.  Ominously, he carried a large curved vibrator and set it down on the side of the bed. 

 

“Do you still have that thing inside you?” he asked. 

 

When I gave a short nod, he said, “Go in and remove it.”  After I looked at his face and confirmed he really wanted this, I moved quickly to the bathroom and returned in a minute.  I had leapt to my feet upon his entrance; his telling me to remove the plug was a wonderful gift. 

 

 

I moved easier upon my return even though I felt as if I had been emptied inside.  He looked at me speculatively and motioned me to sit on the edge of the bed again.  “Tomorrow evening,” he said, “you leave to meet your new Master.” 

 

Suddenly, I felt a series of conflicting emotions inside me.  The news that I would finally be getting off this floating hell of a bordello was good, very, very good---I almost looked forward to being owned by someone new, someone who didn’t know the details of what had been done to prepare me for my new life. 

 

This craft represented a truly horrendous experience, all of which had culminated in the films shown yesterday.  At the same time, there was routine here on the boat, a predictability that somehow had its grotesquely perverse attractiveness to me.  Unbelievably, as awful as it was, I knew what would happen here.  I also knew that things could always get worse.  I couldn’t believe it, but this was a known horror, and there was a part of me that feared the unknown.

 

I’d thought a lot about the videos last night.  I knew I could’ve handled the physical punishment for at least awhile longer.  But the films had taken away any reasons for me to continue my struggles.  I’d always been strongest when there was something to struggle for rather than something to fight against. 

 

But I’d sensed over the last week that with each passing day there was less and less willingness inside me to oppose these men.  That as I cooperated more and more with each act of rape, even if only minimally, and suffered each separate pain and humiliation, the fire inside me had burned lower and lower. 

 

I hated to be so manipulable, so predictable.  But as they were meant to do, these films had put out any remaining fight in me, there was nothing left to struggle for---now that I knew I could never go home again because those films would destroy my family.

 

The pain of that final realization wouldn’t soon go away, but I’d found some relief in that I had finally faced my demons…….even if they’d won.

 

 

Jorge knew his relationship with the blonde teenager had gone through perhaps three distinct phases.  The first was that of outright brutal and sadistic kidnapper to victim and it had lasted for at least three or four days.  From there they had entered a relationship in which she had almost begun to trust him.  Certainly, she had trusted him more than any of her other captors.  It had almost been one of pupil and mentor, if one could get by the sexual satisfaction he took from her unwilling body.  This had lasted almost two weeks and had continued to get stronger over time; he regretted that they’d been forced to move on from this stage because of that madman Manuel. 

 

This last shift in their relative positions had been precipitated by Manuel beating her until she’d soiled herself.  From a position of almost trust, their dealings had then degenerated back into one of Master and pawn/slave, of taker and giver, as he’d been forced to support that maniac.  During this last time, he knew that because of psychological rebound, she had actually trusted him perhaps least of all because she’d previously felt so much closer to him than to the others---because she had actually let him inside her emotional defenses, her feeling of betrayal by him had struck her so more deeply than had that from the others. 

 

But as the time had passed from that event, he had sensed that her defenses had become weaker and weaker, crumbling over the last few days as if the cumulative weight of all that had been done to her had finally worn the girl down.  But here, now, he was back again at the remnants of the walls she had erected in her mind, searching for that which she had kept concealed. 

 

“You’re still upset with the films?” he asked.

 

 

I refused to look at him nor would I call him my Master, but as I spoke there was no mistaking the tone of absolute defeat in my voice.  “What do you care?  You’ve won---you have what you always wanted now.  You always win in the end, don’t you?  But if you really want to know, I think they were awful.  I think that they perfectly show the horrible things you’ve done to me and God only knows to how many other women.  I think…….someday, they’ll be used to send you and the others to prison for the rest of your lives.”

 

 

Jorge decided to ignore her familiarity bordering on insolence, her moment of insubordination and pique, instead concentrating on putting his thoughts about her into words….he found this surprisingly difficult. 

 

“You act like a child when you talk like that.”

 

She looked at him with beautiful flashing green eyes as she retorted, “I AM still a child.  I may look like a woman to you, but I’m not.  Not really.  You, of all people, should know that!”

 

He stopped then, but continued after a moment, unwilling to acknowledge her point, “When a woman like you is brought upon this boat, she is rightfully full of fear.  Even worse, the uncertainty of her fate tends to further exaggerate her anxiety.  But this same situation also grants the brave woman a margin of doubt which often allows her to dismiss all of the alarms that might be inconvenient to her.  These are the women who think that they will be saved and, in the end, nothing will actually happen to them.”

 

“You are young and you have been brave, but you are not foolish.  Your set of films is the seventh of these videos we’ve made,” Jorge continued as his voice grew harsher, “and no one of the law has ever even begun to be interested in tracking them.  For all anyone knows or cares, they’re just the pornographic fantasy of some lunatic mind.  For God’s sake, you’re just one person.  Do you really expect everyone to drop everything and rush out to save you?  Life doesn’t work like that---at least not here.”

 

“You’re a brave and beautiful woman, but you don’t belong to yourself anymore.  You’re ours now.  You know now in your heart that nothing’s gonna save you from that.  But think about what you’ve gone through, what you’ve learned about yourself.”

 

 

“What I’ve learned,” I flashed back at him, “is that a little over a month ago I was getting ready to enter college.  Four weeks later, I’ve been kidnapped, lost count of the number of times I’ve been raped and sodomized, tortured and beaten.” 

 

“I’ve been branded and sexually enslaved and told I would be sold to a man I’ve never met and that I will never see my family or friends again.  And finally, to top it all off,” and now I raised my eyes so that I looked directly into Jorge’s eyes, “I find that I’m pregnant by one of you monsters.”

 

 

There was silence from him for a minute, and then; “So you figured it out.  M, you react to this news like a naïve child.  How on earth do you think that we can ever truly control a woman like you?  Drugs, money, position, power; none of these would matter to you in your attempt to get back to your family.  But if you have a child that’s in our care, ahhh, now that’s a different proposition.  Once your Master has put his child inside you, and then has your infant in his possession, a woman like you would never again try to escape.  We, all of us here, know that about you.” 

 

“Besides,” and now Jorge looked directly back into her eyes, “it’s what we do to tame the women like you for good, to make you docile and controllable.”

 

He smile grimly, “You are not at all special in that way---many others before you have also left us with child.  That’s your role in life.  We’ve never lied to you M, and you’ve always known from the beginning what we had planned for you.  Others before you have been in total denial right up until we sold them.  But you, you’ve tried to please us even when you pretended the submissiveness we demanded.” 

 

He shook his head, “But it was all an act; this I know to be true of you.  And that is why a young woman like you needs to leave us her child as a guarantor of her good behavior.  Before being with us, you were like a nun sequestered in the most remote nunnery; men didn’t enter your life and if you ever really considered them, it was only as young, crass boys mostly to be ignored.”

 

Jorge smiled knowingly, “But after your time here, you’ve learned at an almost instinctive level how men look at you and how they react to you; you’ve finally tapped into a deep understanding of Eros which has always been with you, but which you never bothered to acknowledge let alone try to understand.  Now, I think you feel that you understand perfectly what the men think of you, how they think about you.  But does it scare you?  Somehow, I don’t think so.  Finally, because of what you’ve gone through here, I also think that you feel you now know how to manipulate men.  This, you feel is your strength.”

 

He nodded his head, “But you are right too, for you are still a child in so many ways……and soon you will learn who manipulates who.  But even deeper than this, there’s been something about you, some place deep inside you that we still haven’t reached.  There’s a fire somewhere that we haven’t put out and which we don’t understand.  You’ve always kept something back from me, from all of us…...”

 

She looked at him oddly, which in turn prompted him to exclaim, “Don’t make a face at me, woman!   You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

 

 

I didn’t know how to respond to him.  Even though I’d felt continually more lethargic and without the will to fight, up until the point where they’d showed me their films, with only a few minor miscalculations---like becoming pregnant---I felt that I’d successfully fooled them.  I’d fooled them into believing that I was giving them everything that they wanted; that I was giving them what they’d apparently gotten from every other female captive they’d ever had.  I knew what he was talking about when he’d brought up my deceits, but prayed he didn’t have proof of any kind---prayed he was working by intuition alone and not by something he might have learned about me. 

 

Besides, I knew I was a different person from yesterday.  The overpowering sense of resignation I now felt had been their goal all along. 

 

“I’m not sure---I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied as I stalled, desperately casting about in my mind for a better strategy.  I knew I’d quit playing games with them, and yet here I was, not twelve hours later still sparring with them.  God, I’d already gone through so much---I didn’t want to be tortured for what I’d done in the past.

 

 

Jorge looked at her for a moment with that questioning look he often had and then replied, “Well, no matter.  We shall see.” 

 

And with that, he motioned her onto the bed.  The blonde teenager slowly went from the edge of the bed to its center and lay on her back.  He stood at the edge looking down upon her and slowly shook his head, “Such beauty.” 

 

As with so many females whom had gone before on the boat, he knew that while M’s mind had been the ultimate goal, her body had been the game board upon which all of the battles had been fought.  Whether or not he liked her as a person, that thought had honestly never crossed his mind.  However, he certainly liked the docility she now displayed, how easily she was led to bed and effortlessly directed in every act while upon it. 

 

While M had somehow managed to keep that aura of innocence about her that had been so appealing initially, the beautiful woman who lay on the bed with her nylon clad legs automatically spread wide for him was such a vastly more erotic being than had been the unconscious teenager they’d carried onto the boat a month ago. 

 

With her long, gorgeous legs, tiny waist and the amazing bones of her face, the girl could easily have been an elite model…except for the fact that she was not emaciated looking enough to appeal to the high-end clothes designers and photographers.  With the way she walked and held herself, with her beautiful face and the innocence that was drenched in sexuality, all of this could have opened any door for her in Hollywood, except that she’d never had that drive to succeed at all cost that most ingénues brought to the table.  

 

He’d seen her changing in the last week though, becoming so much more easily managed, almost ready and willing to be taught by a man now, to be led by any man given the opportunity to assume control over her.  She’d almost reached the point where she no longer had the will power to maintain her individuality---or even saw the necessity to do so anymore, but rather now automatically granted control to others, taking for granted their right to do so.  He wasn’t sure she even recognized this quality in herself yet, but what he found most exciting, the increasing tempo of her willing cooperation seemed itself to be accelerating. 

 

What had always been hidden beneath was coming to the front…..

 

It was as if nothing they did to her body now surprised her, no act of brutality was too depraved to be unacceptable or unthinkable.  She had such a high level of “teachability” now that it was erotically exciting, challenging every man who rode her—take me to the next level, PLEASE—it seemed to beg. 

 

And yet, while there were still occasional flashes of the old fire, they knew she’d been tamed now, was almost meek in her obedience to their every command.  And what was even better, not only was she was finally beginning to accept her subservient role in this new world, M was now reacting as a real woman might as they led her further and further into her personal wilderness with their demands and their training.  This willingness bode well for the man who took final possession of the teenage girl.  This was what they had always wanted from her.  Her willingness to accept each and every thing they did to her now, to accept it all as it was meant, showed how far she had come in these last few days and weeks.

 

“You dream at night”, he continued as he looked down at her.  “Sometimes I come in and watch you.  Your dreams are full of anguish and this I can understand.  But you’re very intelligent too and what I can’t understand is why you are blind to so much of what you see around you here.  You’ve seen the design we have woven for you---you’ve lived through most of it.  But do you see the plan behind it?  You may not like it, but do you see the plan?  Once you’ve seen, can you then accept?” 

 

“This design is what every man dreams of whether he’ll admit it or not—to take a single woman, that special woman of whom he dreams to an isolated place and then to teach her what it is to give to him everything that makes her unique.  It may take patience, or much love, or even a lot of pain for the woman, but in the end the man always knows the woman will finally understand her role and submit to him.” 

 

“The most truly successful men aren’t looking for a woman to walk by their side, rather they want her tamed and walking behind him.  Our intentions are to fill a niche that has always existed---and as long as there are beautiful, totally desirable women like you who think they are somehow superior to men, the demand to make you obedient will always exist.”

 

His voice took on the sing-song tones of a teacher, “Most women are like you in many ways; while complex, they are always far more similar than they are different.  But your misfortune was to be both beautiful and naïve, as well as having an imperfect understanding of your true character---you have always been different from the other girls around you and this difference is why you are here.  Your beauty and the way you wear it means you will always draw the eye of every man around you and after they’ve seen you once, it’s you that they’ll dream of at night for many weeks after.  You are the woman they’d most like to have their way with on a deserted desert island.” 

 

“You should be aware; even as young as you are and as protected as you have been, you have no idea how many men have made you their invisible lover night after night.  When these men make love to their wives, they close their eyes and it is a subservient you or some other beautiful creature like you they see.  In their fantasies, it is your often bloodied but willing body they are penetrating.  And even though you may protest that you have never done anything to deserve that kind of attention, you have no idea how many times you have undergone what is nothing less than the equivalent of psychic rape.”

 

“It is your beauty that brought you here, but it is your character that we work on here.  It was your sense of survival, your submissiveness to reality which needed to be brought forward to battle your overly developed ego.  These battles are almost over for soon, my dear, if you are not already there, you too will be tamed---forever.  But until tomorrow evening,” he continued, “nothing here changes.  You will spend your time with us as usual.”

 

 

I had been holding my breath, now I let it out.  I still lay on The Bed, splayed provocatively for the next man.  I didn’t know what to say and his remarks didn’t seem to call for a response, so I said nothing.  My knees were slightly spread, one arm was by my side, while my other hand lay between my breasts, slightly covering them.  My hair was spread over the pillow and I knew I looked at him coldly, with no expression on my face. 

 

“Such beauty,” the old man repeated almost to himself.

 

 

Jorge looked down upon her as he slowly undressed.  She looked at him with those expressionless green eyes she sometimes used on him and he had no idea what was going through her mind.  He couldn’t help himself; he’d already taken this sweet teenager so many times in so many different ways, but again he stood looking down upon her, admiring her body—her body never failed to arouse him, even at his age.  Finally, he was naked in front of her and both of them knew that he was ready. 

 

But instead of need, it was his experience which took over at this point and he lay down next to her and stroked her for a couple of minutes.  First he touched her breasts lightly, before his hand stroked further down her body where her flat belly continued to lead him down to where her legs met.  His hands stroked her upper thighs and then the secret spots behind both of her knees—the spots even she had not known she’d had.  Lastly, his fingertips circled her aureoles, always avoiding the pins that kept the tips of her breasts chained. 

 

Finally, he told her he wanted her on top of him.  Jorge directed her to straddle his chest on her hands and knees while facing away from him.  The blonde girl they had kidnapped only a month ago did this willingly and without any further prompting by him. 

 

When finally positioned in the way he wanted, she leaned over without further direction or encouragement and took him in her mouth, thus baring her naked hips to him.  He closed his eyes as his hands slowly stroked the outsides of her nylon-covered thighs.  He’d never lost the feeling of utter delight at being able to touch a beautiful, docile young woman dressed in this way just for him. 

 

The fact that she’d been brought here by force and then unceasingly trained to do this…..her spectacular performance in this way…..like the best escort money could buy only made her vulnerability that much sweeter. 

 

The young girl once called Victoria was quite accomplished at giving blowjobs by now and the sensations to Jorge were quite pleasant; it was all he could do to just close his eyes and let her have her way with him.  In fact, she was good enough that he had to make her stop a couple of times in order to prevent his too cumming early. 

 

When he finally had himself under control, he reached up and slowly moved aside the thin strip of material which made up the crotch of her G-string and began to manipulate the insides of her thighs and lips of the blonde teenager’s vagina, strictly avoiding her clitoris. 

 

 

The everpresent anger which had once filled me was gone.  I didn’t think about much during sex and really did not mind the oral sex that much now.  I still hated being throat fucked by The Evil One, but was so used now to having a man in my mouth in the other ways; the taste and feel of a man’s meat and the fluids he injected didn’t seem nearly as bad as they had a month ago—it seemed a woman could get used to anything if she had to.  The tactile sensations of a man’s penis on my tongue, the texture of the natural ribs caused by his bulging veins, the ridges of his circumcised head, the motion of his hips, his hands in my hair and on my head pulling me toward him, they all combined in a mix of taste and feel that I had clearly somehow learned to accept.  Also, I’d finally realized how much pleasure it seemed to give the men.  And while the old me knew it was wrong to feel this way, in an oddly contrarian way, somehow it gave me tiny thrills of forbidden pleasure to make them happy this way. 

 

And yet, there was still a pragmatic part of me which realized that they loved what I did to them, and the woman in me noticed that if things were going well while I was sucking on them, their brains actually seemed to stop functioning and they often demanded less. 

 

At this moment, the only problem was when Jorge pulled the crotch of my panties aside and began to touch me softly between my legs.  I…I fought the feelings which suddenly rushed to every part of my body.  He’d spent too much time there and it began to feel good to me, too good, very good, waaay too good.  Suddenly, I realized that my hips were moving to a beat that only his fingers could hear and I could feel myself becoming moister between my legs by the moment. 

 

It was at that moment that he insisted I lie down and spread my legs for him.

 

On the video, Jorge had finally seen what he thought the teenager was hiding.  He’d watched her, time after time, do anything to avoid having her clitoris manipulated.  Whether consciously or not, she guarded this part of her body like it was a treasure made of pearls and gold.  She used both discrete misdirection of her partners as well as an almost theatrical ability to exploit her sexuality, but always to disguise her real sexual weakness.  He knew he’d hit her G-spot on the first day immediately after he’d performed a lot of oral sex on her.  And she’d fucked him with everything she had after that, but in the end she’d still tried to manipulate him.  She’d done it numerous times after that, and on video, he’d seen her do it to both Manuel and Enrique too. 

 

His only conclusion?  Except for the first day, sex with her had been great, but dishonest. 

 

God knows, he thought to himself, she’d been an unwilling partner in a lot of sex over the last month.  And if it were him in her position, he might even try to do the same thing.  But he wasn’t her and now that he thought he understood her, Jorge planned on using her sexuality against her, forcing her away from her deceitful behavior.  Who knew?  She might even have a totally honest sexual experience in bed for once even if it were against her will. 

 

Jorge planned on a lot foreplay this time, planned on manipulating her genitals for a while, but he would strictly leave her clitoris alone.  He would then go after her G-spot for real and make her cum until she was exhausted; only after that would he then go back and exploit her clit.  He’d work on that for a while and when he finally had her where he wanted her, then he’d fuck her brains out.  He had high hopes today of finally being able crack this girl’s wall of secrecy, the one which she used to hide her true self from them.  He didn’t like her or dislike her, he just wanted to see what she was hiding before she was taken from him.  He realized it was his ego which drove him to do this, but he just didn’t care. 

 

It might take a cosmic level of foreplay, but he was a professional and she was an amateur.  The way she had so far denied him this last victory over her meant she had become a true challenge to him---he had to see her chest flushed just like the Wolf had described to him.  Jorge figured only by this would he know he had finally succeeded in conquering the real girl hidden behind the false wall she’d thrown up inside her mind.

 

And so, while she sucked on his cock, he settled in, continued to work on her vagina with his mouth and fingers for at least ten minutes, always touching, kissing and sucking on her labia and around her vagina, but generally avoiding her clit.  The blonde’s breathing rate increased and she continued to get more and more hot, whether she wanted to or not.  He smiled to himself even as he felt himself growing more aroused, more sexually impatient.  But still he held on.  And when he finally did touch her engorged clit every so often, he would smile with anticipation as she inevitably jumped from the intense sensation between her legs.  After a few more minutes of this, he switched positions and had her laying on her back with her knees raised and legs spread for him.

 

Now he was going after her G-spot.  First he lowered himself between her thighs as he stroked her body, gently touching the inside of her thighs, stomach, breasts and her rear end.  Finally, after another moment had passed, he again pushed the crotch of her G-string aside and inserted his finger inside her vagina, keeping his fingertip facing her clitoris and moving his wrist in a way which allowed him to probe past the muscles at the entry to her vagina, following the curve of her body so his finger ended up on the other side of her pubic bone facing him.

 

Jorge felt the thin pads of extremely sensitive vaginal tissue there and he began to work them.  As he did, he felt her jump for the first time and then he felt them begin to swell beneath his circling fingertip as his touch became more pleasurable to her.  She moaned again and again, once clenching her thighs together hard to capture his hand.  He stopped with his fingertips resting on the tissues he was manipulating.  After a moment, however, she reluctantly opened herself again and allowed him to continue. 

 

Once she began swelling there under his fingers, he experimented with different moves, moves other captive women had found pleasurable too....rubbing his finger from side to side (gently at first and then increasing the pressure and pace as her arousal gained momentum)...tapping gently on the sensitive area....stroking down and up...using two fingers instead of one. 

 

Unwillingly, her body talked to him, guided him, welcomed him and his attentions.  Hard as a rock now, Jorge wanted nothing more than to fuck this woman, but he stayed focused, watched her responses, always responded to her body’s reactions.  More and more now, she stopped sucking on him, giving herself over to him, just enjoying the sensations he was giving her between her long, beautiful legs. 

 

Once again she jumped again as if in pain and he didn’t know if this was good or bad.  He knew an inexperienced woman like this had probably never undergone this kind of extended stimulation and a man just never knew what kind of response he might get from her.  For all he knew, she might jump straight into sexual ecstasy or she might feel nothing; on the other hand, it could be uncomfortable or even painful to her.

 

Jorge felt the girl’s erotic tissue swell even more beneath his fingers and he stayed with the three basic strokes he had used from the beginning as he worked her young body.  The one she seemed to respond to the most was a deep stroking action as he pulled his curved fingers almost out of her vagina.  She moaned appreciatively again and again as he followed this with a tapping motion and finally a side to side motion.  The teenager appeared deeply appreciative for all three efforts and after a few minutes, achieved orgasm, a truly awe-inspiring orgasm.  This was accompanied by the first release of a thickish, clear liquid he found on his fingers---it was almost like she was ejaculating! 

 

The smell now coming from between her legs was a strong, musky aroma that filled the cabin.  He’d done this to a lot of captives.  While all women have a scent in this situation, he’d only noticed the accompanying secretions from a few women who had been truly turned on.  The combination of strong smell and feminine ejaculate was designed by nature to drive men insane with its pheromonic demands on their bodies.

 

 

I neither knew what Jorge was doing to me nor why he was giving me this kind of long, detailed foreplay.  All I knew was that it felt incredibly good, right up until…...  Suddenly, I knew it had gone too far….that I had to reach up and grab his hand to stop him…..but I was too late. 

 

My head was whipping back and forth on the bed’s pillow.  My body was under his control and I really didn’t want that.  But he wouldn’t stop and finally, I knew he must be aware of what I had been doing.  He must have known because everything he seemed to be doing was directed towards defeating me---the me which no longer existed.  I shook my head at the unfairness of it all; to be able to protect myself all this time and then to lose everything at the very end.

 

As he pulled my hand away from his and he continued to stimulate me, it suddenly led to some of the most intense sensations and contractions that I’d ever allowed myself to feel.  Abruptly, I was embarrassed because his continued stimulation had made me feel like I had to urinate.  I whimpered that I had to pee, but he wouldn’t stop or let me go.  Instead, he whispered for me to relax and breathe, to just “let go” of the sensation.  And suddenly, as he continued, Jorge’s touch there gave me the most intense, most profound and most pleasurable orgasm I’d ever experienced in my life.  I came and I came and I came; it seemed never to end.  How could something which felt this good be bad? 

 

My head flew from side to side as I cried out in low moaning tones.  At the same time, my thighs locked his fingers inside my body and my hips humped it.  It was heaven, it was hell, it was unending….  I relaxed my legs, then pinned his hand inside me again and tried to arch my hips against his hand again.  I was not successfully in that, but oh my God!  How good it felt to let him do whatever he wanted to me.  For the first time, I knew I was his to do with as he pleased and for however long it pleased him!!

 

He later said that he could see my belly ripple as my abdominal muscles moved with each succeeding wave of pleasure and his hand was actually wet now with my vaginal secretions.

 

As he slowly allowed me to come down, I felt a tingling and then sudden warmth all over as my blood flowed rushing to all parts of my body.  I felt a deep and overwhelming sense of well-being; a pervasive flowing sensation which just seemed to speed throughout my body.  And all of this was accompanied by wider, broader waves of feeling almost as if I were weightless or floating.

 

Jorge finally relented and allowed me to breathe for a moment.  I luxuriated in the almost ecstatically religious feelings which washed throughout my body; I felt flushed by an almost spiritual release in which a totally new feeling had been awakened in me, all of which left me wondering just which areas of my being he had been able to touch with only his fingers.

 

I was still gasping for air when suddenly, too soon, far too soon he picked up the curved wand that he’d brought in and pushed my shaking knees apart again.  His fingers slid down the sheer nylon covering my thighs and I could feel how wet I now was.  I could see how easy it was for him to pull the crotch of my panties aside and insert this thing inside me.  There was no resistance within me, it just felt wonderful to be finally filled, even if by a mechanical object. 

 

I had no say in what he did next---nor did I want any---for when he had it inside me as far as he wanted it, he turned it on.  I’d raised my head to watch what he was doing to me between my legs and immediately, I felt my head slam back against the mattress as this thing in his hand exactly hit my G-spot again.  I gave me the same or even more intense sensations than those from which I just recovered. 

 

He started working on me with this and I lay totally vulnerable and opened before him, literally physically helpless now, wanting to be helpless for him, with my knees spread wide to receive his attention as overwhelming feelings and emotions of an almost religious intensity ricocheted throughout my body. 

 

Jorge’s style was excellent; he soon found that a stabbing motion didn’t do as much for me as when he ended the penetrations with a slickly forceful withdrawing motion.  He continued this for a couple of minutes, varying his routine only slightly when suddenly I came again.  This time, when I grabbed his wrist to stop him, I squirted what seemed like buckets as I lay writhing beneath his hands a second time.  I hadn’t grabbed his wrist to stop him, I was at his mercy and just couldn’t seem to catch my breath.  I knew that I was babbling to him but I didn’t care.  My God!!  I just wanted to catch my breath before he continued. 

 

 

Jorge was now crouched over Victoria facing her spread knees---it was time to work her clit a little more before the main event.  He inhaled her wonderful perfume and if possible, felt himself become every harder.  His head and hands hovered above her loins as he continued to manipulate her labia and that small elusive button of sensitive flesh even as her hips rotated madly around his fingers. 

 

He’d leaned his hips down towards Victoria’s face and she’d greedily grabbed his cock again and put it in her mouth.  By now, she’d taken him all the way into her mouth and she was sucking hard on him and manipulating his nuts at the same time---this was dangerous territory.  It was a battle now to see came first this time and who was rendered helpless.  He let go of the thin strip of material that ran between her legs and paused; his head was raised and his eyes were closed as he enjoyed what she was doing to him.

 

Finally regaining a semblance of control, he reached down to pull the thin strip of lace aside again and was astounded to feel it was burning hot and almost sopping wet from her now juicy pussy.  With his target now once more bared, he was able to apply the vibrator directly upon her red and engorged clitoris again. 

 

The second he did this, he felt Victoria stiffen and stop sucking at his loins, after which she gave out a low moan of pure animal pleasure.  After a moment, she leaned back into him and resumed her sucking. 

 

Her hips however, seemed to respond even more enthusiastically to his actions.  After several minutes, he was delighted to see the crotch of her panties were now just sodden with her moisture.  While she leaned into him with her left hand on the mattress beside his hip, he put the vibrator in her right hand.  Jorge told Victoria to take the vibrator. 

 

“Don’t stop what you’re doing to me,” he said, “but I also want you to use the vibrator on yourself.” 

 

She was nothing if not cooperative.

 

Now they reversed positions with her on top and facing his huge erection.  With his hands now freed, Jorge finally began to remove Victoria’s wetted and stretched G-string.  He took his time, ensuring that he kept his hips so she could always maintain her suction on his cock, 

 

He removed the tiny panties first from her right leg and then off of her left leg.  By taking his time, there was no interruption in the rhythm of pleasure between them.  But now finished with that chore, Jorge raised his head slightly and pushing the vibrator in her hands to the side, he pulled down on her hips, forcing her vagina into his face and onto his waiting mouth. 

 

As he began sucking on her juicy, destroyed pussy, he heard the beautiful teenaged blonde inhale quickly and then give out single deep, long, drawn out groan of pleasure again---this sound pleased him.  At the same time, as his mouth rested on her vagina, his left hand was now down by his belly and cupping her breasts one at a time as they rested on his chest.  Each breast was a handful and he was able to play with her nipples, all the while he was massaging and pulling on her breasts.

 

 

I couldn’t help myself, what he was doing just felt too good for me not to respond.  I’d already had two huge orgasms and too many small ones to count.  All I wanted to do was cooperate with anything that Jorge might ask of me. I didn’t want it stop, I never wanted it stop.  I had his cock in my mouth and whenever his face didn’t prevent it, I also masturbated myself at exactly the right place between my legs with the vibrator.  The combination of his mouth alternately sucking and pulling and tugging on my labia and then my clitoris, his pulling and manipulating my breasts and the vibrator massaging my clit was literally overpowering.  Suddenly, I had forgotten about not wanting to cooperate and about not liking to perform oral sex; I’d forgotten about everything except what was going on with my body and how much I wanted a man, any man, deep, deep inside of me.

 

 

Finally he was ready.  Jorge moved the girl onto her left side and after placing his knees on either side of her left thigh, he lowered himself until he sat on the inside of her thigh, pinning it to the mattress with his weight.  He then reached over and raised her right leg until it pointed into the air and he could grasp it and pull her extended leg into his chest with her knee in a locked position.  Telling her to guide him he moved his hips until she could grasp his erection, and then she opened herself with her left hand as she guided (actually pulled) him into her wet vagina with her right hand. 

 

As he gave the first move of his hips, she was so moist and ready for him that he was immediately buried in her as deep as it was physically possible for him to penetrate.  The moist heat from her vagina as it encased him was amazing---she was so hot it almost felt like it would burn him. 

 

At that first penetration, she threw her head back and gave a long scream of pure animal lust.  It went on long enough that everyone on the boat knew she’d finally been forced to release the pent up sexual energy that she’d been hiding from them for so long.

 

Something else Jorge knew she wasn’t thinking about at that moment was how she was also directly facing a camera that was still faithfully recording every movement she made as she fucked him, every expression on her face as she continued to have multiple orgasms.  This film too would eventually make it into the video.

 

They fucked like maniacs.  It was impossible to tell who was doing what to whom.  First he was on top driving into her and then she was on top, grasping with her vaginal muscles, demanding every inch of his erection she could possibly get.  When he finally came inside her, she refused to let go of his cock until she’d wrung every remaining drop from him.  Watching the film later, everyone was impressed with how far their ‘virgin’ had come in less than a month under their patient tutelage.

 

 

We lay in bed, exhausted.  I couldn’t help myself as I marveled at the tingling which I felt in every part of my body---it had never been like this before.  Without asking permission, I kicked off first one high heel and then the other.  I luxuriously stretched and ran my stockinged foot up the inside of my other leg and marveled at how sensitive every part of my body felt now.  God, if I’d only known how good it could be, I’d never have fought them like I had.  If they’d only promised me one or two good lays a week like this one, I’d have followed them anywhere and done anything for them.  I was not really quite that far gone, but it wasn’t too far off either.

 

I now knew that long-term sex like this resulted in something that was much like drug addiction, and like drug addiction I knew it could be broken with willpower, with enough inner strength. 

 

The truth? 

 

While the situation I was in was probably unacceptable to most, it was also incredible how it felt to me.  A part of me wanted to fight this….addiction.  But fighting a dependence like this required swearing off the poison.  But these men, and all of the ones to come, would never let me do that.  And with a sinking feeling, I also understood that I did not have the inner strength of character required to free myself of the emotional and mental bondage which now chained me….certainly not as long as the payoff was as filled with the sheer unmeasurable pleasure it promised to be. 

 

 

They lay in bed, exhausted.  He looked at her chest and it was a rosy red from her abdomen to her chin.  Victoria’s face was flushed too and the sweat on her body had just now begun to dry.  Looking at her face as his fingers traced soft circles around her still sensitive nipples, he said, “I know what you’ve been doing, what you’ve tried to keep from us.”

 

 

I opened my eyes as I came crashing down from my flights of pure imagination.  Suddenly wary, I tried to answer and failed.  I swallowed loudly.  I had been told explicitly what they would do to anyone that tried to game them.  But in the end, I’d finally learned what they had demanded---surely this counted for something?  I didn’t want to go back to being physically tortured on a daily basis as punishment for something I’d already learned. 

 

Swallowing again, I tried again to speak and was finally successful after a couple of failures.  “Please,” I begged him.  “Please don’t tell anyone, I can’t take any more pain.  I’ve changed---you’ve won and I promise I won’t try to do that anymore.  Please, I beg of you, I’ll do anything you want.  Please.”

 

He just looked at her without expression.  Inside however, he was amazed.  She’d apparently either forgotten about the cameras in the cabin or assumed they were turned off now that her films were completed.  Everything was being recorded and would be sent to her new owner.  That she’d admitted to trying to fool them, the way she’d responded to his manipulations, the way she’d fucked like a bitch in heat after the extended foreplay, even her feeble attempts at begging for mercy---all would be sent on.

 

Keeping his face expressionless for a second, Jorge finally smiled and nodded, “Okay, it’s between us.  Now we try it again.” 

 

And he pulled her unresisting body onto her stomach as he prepared to take her from the rear.  He could tell she was in a remarkably cooperative mode now.  This time, he made sure she responded enthusiastically to each and every move he made; this time he made sure that she writhed on his pole until he was satisfied; this time he made sure that she fucked him as his cock was buried in her ass. 

 

He spread her stocking-covered legs wide apart, spread her lovely cheeks, then slid between them into the wonderful home his cock sought.  The girl was a screamer this time too, even though he left her crying when he was finished.  But whether from what he’d done to her or from what he’d discovered about her, he neither knew nor cared.

 

Or perhaps she cried because for the first time because she had actually cum while being fucked in the ass?

 

 

Day Twenty-Eight: Victoria Finally Departs To Meet Her New Master

 

I had spent the morning getting ready to depart.  I was scared, but felt a sense of excitement too, an emotion which surprised me.  I was young and I was facing an awful unknown, yet at the same time I knew exactly what my new life held for me---this had been made VERY clear to me---and somehow, in some way, I found I was ready to face it with as much poise and confidence as I could.

Except for the anal sex, yesterday’s time with Jorge had left me feeling as good as I had felt in a long time.  I ached a little from what the crew had put me through after him, but it seemed like a huge weight had been taken off of my chest.  The new reality the movies had brought, the physical release which Jorge had given me, the relief I’d felt after I’d decided to no longer fight my fate, that I was moving on to my new master; it all seemed to come together at once.

The boat was still about three hours from docking when Jorge allowed me to go into my cabin and begin getting ready for tonight’s meeting.  He seemed solicitous as he served me several cups of coffee to help me relax as I packed to leave.  Somehow, a part of me hated to leave Jorge, I would miss him.  

I was able to pack everything I’d been wearing into two large suitcases.  Depending upon how he wanted to use me, while my new Master may soon need to buy me some new dresses, he wouldn’t need to buy me lingerie for years.  

I thought with regret back to Bossman, and how we’d finally been able to get along at the end just before he’d left the boat.  I surprised to discover that a part of me missed him.  The more I thought about it, the more certain I was……..if I had to have a Master, I wished it would be him.  I knew him, I respected him…..I understood for the first time that a part of me liked him.  

But that was not to be.

Still a stupid, immature girl, I felt this a golden opportunity so I took a lot of care that afternoon, trying to make myself look as good as possible for my new Master.  I was glad Jorge had decided to let me leave without having to wear that damnable plug inside me.  There had been little or no leakage for days now because of my diet.  I may be someone’s newly purchased pleasure slave, but arriving without that monstrosity in me would simplify a lot of things and perhaps allow what others saw as my beauty and grace to impress onlookers.  If he kept other women for pleasure besides me, I would do my best to become his favorite toy since I felt this would simplify my life with him.  Of course, the last thing I needed was get into some kind of a competition with the other kept women of the house.  

After carefully putting on my makeup and brushing out my hair, I walked over to the clothes hangers in the corner and took down a simple navy blue pleated skirt that came to within two inches above my knees and an almost transparent white silk blouse with a deep V neck.  I matched these with sheer navy hose, a silk navy garter belt and dark blue pumps with five-inch stiletto heels.  Looking at myself in the mirror, even if only a naïve nineteen year old, I knew I would be able to make a simple yet classy, perhaps even sexy entrance.

Oddly, The Evil One had handed me a second navy garter belt and informed I would be wearing this one too.  This garter belt was much wider than normal as it encircled my waist, it rested higher on my hips than I had become familiar with and had only one slightly longer garter strap hanging down in front between my legs.  I noticed that this garter strap was also much stronger than the other garters I normally wore.  After inspecting it closely, I could see that if this single garter were stretched tightly, it could be fastened firmly to the back of the wide garter belt I was to wear.  While it didn’t make sense to wear two garter belts, especially one that had a strap hanging down in front, I had learned to not question my betters.  

I did as I was commanded.  

The Evil One came in and I submitted to him, assuming my customary position for him one last time.  Without ceremony, he walked in back of me, lifted my skirt and pushed my thighs apart.  I blushed at this, but he didn’t seem to notice as he then reached between my legs and grabbed the end of the single unattached garter that hung down in front between my legs, pulled it up between my thighs and hooked it to the wide belt in back.  It was tightly stretched now from front to back and split the lips of my pussy as well, snuggling deeply in the crack of my buttocks.  He then left without a word.  It was as if this strap was the crotch of a weirdly designed thong.  This second garter was rather uncomfortable and it took me a while to get used to wearing it.  

I was dressed in less than an hour and now waited almost impatiently for this part of my journey to end.  I felt like I’d lived a full lifetime in the last three or four weeks.  Coincidentally, at this point the small bathroom in my cabin had backed up and I was forced to wait until I got onshore before I could go to the bathroom.  It was at times like this that I sometimes wished I were a man.  Of course, if I were a man, I wouldn’t have been here in the first place.

Eventually the boat approached a large marina dock at dusk and I was escorted by the men off of the boat in disguise.  Just before we had arrived, Jorge had handcuffed my wrists behind my back to ensure I didn’t try to runaway---as if I’d try to escape by running on a dock made of wooden planks while wearing five-inch stilettos.  And there was my family.  I wasn’t running anywhere.

Although the weather was mild, he’d thrown a long, yet light cotton cape over my shoulders to hide the wrist cuffs.  In addition, he’d also forced a two inch diameter rubber ball into my mouth and then covered my lips with a wide piece of flesh colored tape to gag me.  

Finally, he’d somehow come up with a floppy brimmed hat which covered my face most of the time.  From fifty feet away in the gathering dark, no one would ever notice that I was a woman, bound and gagged.  

I don’t know why, but I tried to cooperate, to act as normal as possible as I walked along that dock.  Acting not as a young kidnapped girl who was handcuffed and gagged, one who had been raped and tortured and who had been sold into sexual slavery.  But instead, as an innocent young girl being escorted somewhere by her older brothers.

As I was escorted to my transportation, I thought about my last four or five years at school and of what I had dreamed my future to be.  The places I would visit, the men I would eventually meet and with whom I would go on exotic vacations.  We’d have chilled drinks on beautiful patios overlooking the Mediterranean; spend time in the fantastic cities of Eastern Europe and the Middle East.  It would all be wonderful!  Eventually, I’d meet the man of my dreams and he would fall in love with me, and ask me to marry him…..  

Funny, the things you think about when you’re a newly trained sex slave and you’re being unexpectedly transferred from one location to another.  When you’re being taken some place you’ve never been because you belong to a man you’ve never met, and he’ll use you for things you’ve never dreamed you’d be forced to do.  

Oddly, I was actually somehow at peace with the fact that I now belonged to a man and that he would force me to have sex with him at his pleasure until he tired of me.  

It would have been impossible for me to have dreamed of this happening to another woman a month ago, let alone me actually living through it.

Along with my small amount of luggage, I was escorted down the dock and into a parking lot where a large SUV was waiting for me.  My floppy hat was removed and I was silently given over to the three new men waiting there.  Jorge, Manuel and Enrique turned and walked away from me without another word.  I watched them for a minute and none of them ever looked back at me.  My eyes teared slightly; the hellboat was a known evil and as bad as it had been, for some reason I felt like a small child who had just lost her parents.  Somehow, that awful place had become my home….and suddenly, I missed it. 

Still gagged and cuffed, the men helped me into the front seat and then we pulled out along the coast road.  Conversation was stiff; all of the men had clearly been ordered to say little as possible around me and seemed thoroughly incapable of small talk.  Or maybe, as the new Master’s whore I was below their station in life.  

I watched the road signs carefully.  I’d like to know where I was, not so much because I thought I could escape, for I had already been told I would be put on the leash by my new Master for at least a month, but rather out of sheer curiosity.  And still not a word from the front or back seats.

We drove for ten minutes along the well-lit road and I was surprised to see a lot of heavy truck traffic going in both directions.  We soon slowed down and pulled around to the back of a closed gas station---even if this was not the Hilton, I hoped I would be allowed to go to the bathroom here.  While the driver walked around to the back of their vehicle, the other two men helped me down from my seat and then held me with a firm grip on each arm.  I looked at the men in a little fear for this did not make sense.

The driver walked around and stood next to me where he took a stiff rubber rod out of a paper bag that he was now carrying.  The rod had a set of beads on it arranged by size and he proceeded to lubricate them lightly with what turned out to be Bengay.  These turned out to be plastic anal beads, and grew progressively larger as one went from the tip towards the base of the rod.  The big end of the rod had a wide, flat flange on it to prevent its penetrating too deeply into its female victim and it had a leather loop on the end with which to pull it out when the man was done humiliating his woman.  

Looking at me with an evil smile, he said, “Consider this a parting gift from Roberto.”

While I had never seen one of these things before and didn’t know what they planned to do with it, I also knew without a doubt it didn’t mean anything good for me.  I tried to turn and run.  However, the two men standing next to me casually grabbed me before I could even really make a move, lifted me up and threw me face down over the fender of the SUV.  

I was still handcuffed, and although I struggled, kicking my legs and throwing myself from side to side, the two men each grabbed an elbow and an ankle and easily pinned me down on the fender while they pulled my legs wide apart.  The driver unhooked the single garter which ran between my legs, spread my butt cheeks and in a totally disinterested, business-like manner, inserted the rod end and the two smallest beads into my enlarged anus.  

Because of the rubber butt plugs that I’d been wearing for the last month, my body easily accepted the smaller beads.  While I gave a muffled scream of indignation and fought this last as hard as I could, I was again helpless in the face of the experienced slavers.  

The driver then grabbed the front garter strap, ran it through the rod’s looped handle and positioned it carefully over the end of the rubber rod before re-connecting it to the rear of the wide garter belt around my waist.  The strong, tightly stretched garter strap now split the lips of my pussy again; while I was still lying on the fender and before I could even think about trying to clamp my sphincter shut the third bead had been driven inside my rectum under the pressure from the tightly stretched garter.

The men watched without interest as the girl begged them in a muffled voice as soon as the Bengay started to take effect.  She had to know that this was, without a doubt, the beginning of her punishment for trying to resist the men on the boat.  Taking her arms, her two escorts dragged her back down off the fender and began walking her back to the open door of the SUV.  

She now walked with rolling gate from side to side, in extreme difficulty due to unfamiliar presence in her ass.  The Bengay was already stoking a furnace and as they walked, the strong garter strap kept up its pressure on the rod that now pushed more deeply into her asshole with almost every step.  

Three more times on the short trip to the vehicle door, almost with each step, each move of her hips resulted in a new and larger bead forcing its way past her sphincter and injecting a whole new load of Bengay in her already burning asshole.  

Before she’d even made the vehicle, the new slut began to involuntarily accept the final and largest anal bead inside her body.  Her sphincter fought uselessly against this invasion.  The smaller beads at the tip of the rod continued to lead the way into her body, ensuring that their message of pain was received profoundly deeper into her rectum.  Little did the young woman know that the last and largest bead also carried Tabasco sauce mixed with the Bengay.  

Just as they reached the car door, the last bead popped in.

I somehow climbed into the SUV with their help and seated myself gingerly on one cheek.  I was belted into the front passenger seat by one of the men, an act which maliciously forced the beads even more deeply inside me.  The rod was now firmly seated inside my lower body up to the flange.  Well designed, that wide piece was the only thing preventing an even deeper penetration of my colon by the beads.  I was invaded so deeply by this thing that my stomach actually cramped as the tip pushed against the walls of my lower colon.  

Still gaged, I bit down on the hard rubber to hold in a desperate scream.  Roberto had planned well, the bastard. 

Within a few moments, the seat had been reclined by the driver, forcing me to lie back on my bound hands.  I was now in continuous pain from the ripping pain in my abdomen and the burning fire inside my rectum.  My hips were in constant motion, trying to achieve some kind of relief in an impossible quest for sanctuary.  Even worse, I still had to go to the bathroom.  While this pain was not as great as that from my rectum, the feeling of urgency continued to grow.

I had lost all interest in fighting these new men.  They now easily tied my ankles together using a strip of Velcro while a rope was run from my hands, between the seat back and seat bottom and then back to my ankles.  The driver pulled the rope tight, which pulled my ankles snugly against the lower front of the seat.  This in turn forced me to arch my back in an attempt to relieve the pressure on my knees and ankles.  

In my reclined position, this forced me to keep my knees above my hips.  Because of the brutal physical intrusion of the rod and anal balls, the only way I could achieve any kind of relief from that terrible invasion was to spread my knees as wide apart as was humanly possible.  

At the same time, I found myself continually grinding my hips into the seat in an unsuccessful attempt to obtain some kind of relief from the burning fire in my rear end.  After pulling my skirt back up around my thighs without saying a word, the driver now started the car, pulled back out on the coastal road and the trip to my new Master’s home began again.  

A result of gravity is that things always naturally want to go from higher areas to lower—nature rules and everything inexorably else obeys, sometimes sooner, sometimes later.  It was this function which caused my pleated skirt to now want to slide down my slick, nylon-clad thighs to my hips.  Between the normal vibrations of the road and my squirming from the unbelievable pain in my rectal canal, the pleated blue skirt started its inevitable slide towards my waist.  

The driver was an awful man.  He turned to me and smiled without sympathy, so I guess he really was a friend of Roberto’s.  “I understand your Master has some interesting plans for you upon arrival---a nice steaming enema, a good, long ass fucking and God only knows what else.”  I ignored him as I had much more serious concerns with which to contend.  

First to become visible as part of my skirt’s journey were the darker tops of my stockings.  If the outside observer could ignore my obvious pain, with my knees spread wide on the reclined passenger seat, I assume I presented a provocative and erotic view of a beautiful woman.  Although I really was not particularly aware of this at the time, for I was crying at this point.  Through my haze of pain though, I wondered faintly if the truckers driving by could see into the interior of the vehicle well enough to notice me.  I hoped not, but from the sound of the joyous air horns when they passed the trucks, I assumed they could.  

Because of my spread knees and the writhing of my hips on the reclined seat, my skirt had next slid to the point that my garters could be seen and, in a humiliating finale, my exposed and mostly naked pussy was fully revealed to each passing truck driver.  I wasn’t sure, but we might have caused a wreck or two as they passed various trucks.  Obviously, the word had gone out as every truck we passed had its driver hanging out the window to see me--the beautiful blonde exhibitionist.  The fact that I was constantly grinding my pelvis into the seat for them just made it an even hotter scene.  This was something they would be talking about for a long time.  

All they had seen were the knees spread wide, the stocking clad thighs and the moving hips.  Not one of them had really seen me, nor had they noticed the bound wrists or the shocked look in the pleading eyes, the tears running down the now haggard face or the gagged mouth that kept in the cries of pain.

I had lost all interest in reading the traffic signs for I no longer cared where we were.  This trip to meet my new Master was awful; it was hell---so much for my grand entrance.  Through the continuous acid-like burning in my anus, around which my whole world now centered, I knew this trip had started badly and that when they got me to my new Master’s home, things would only get worse.

Eventually we pulled up in front of a large stucco’d building built in the manner of the colonial past.  The SUV was parked in a large circular drive in front of a grand and well-manicured entrance.  The mansion was designed with two wings and looked to be quite large, as though it might contain up to 7,000 or even 8,000 square feet housed under one roof.  But I guess I could be excused for this estimate, since I later learned that in total, it encompassed over 16,000 square feet, much of it being underground.

 

This was the day that I had dreaded for over three weeks---meeting my new Master.  But frankly, I could care less at the moment what my new owner or the home of my new owner looked like or even how he acted towards me.  I was in agony, with the mix of Bengay and Tabasco exceeding anything The Demon might have done to me in person.  

When we arrived I was dragged from the SUV by two men and forced around to a side entrance where deliveries were made.  I could barely walk, but was mostly dragged into a sizable, well-appointed kitchen where I was met by a large Hispanic man.  He looked with disapproval at my disheveled appearance and constantly moving hips, my tear-filled eyes and rather mussed hair, but finally introduced himself as ‘Georges’.  

He sniffed with dissatisfaction, turned without another word and led the small parade through the kitchen to a heavy, locked door set into a whitewashed stone wall.  Opening the door with a key he carried on a ring with a bunch of other keys, we descended a series of steps which led to a subterranean level.

Still handcuffed, filled with fear and dread, suffering and in real pain, I was finally, reluctantly ushered by Georges into a large, rather dark room with what seemed a low ceiling.  Not really concerned whether my first impression was that of a lady or a slave, I walked stiffly to the center where I did my best to assume a submissive position.  I furtively looked around me as I subtly shifted my weight from one foot to the other and back again, anything to shift or subdue the discomfort.  My eyes had still not adjusted from being outside at night and it took several moments for me to be able to see everything clearly.  

God!  There were at least seven or eight men apparently waiting for my arrival.  

A truly submissive woman is to be treasured, cherished and protected for it is only she who can give a man the gift of dominance.

-Dominique Aury

Georges looked at me impassively and without pity, then turned without saying another word, and along with the two escorts, left me alone with the men.  In great pain, I numbly waited for instructions.  Intellectually, I knew the fate which more than likely awaited me; I now knew I could handle whatever came.  I may not have liked it, but I would handle it.  But emotionally, in my heart, I was still trying to make the leap from being a college student one day to being prostituted a month later to any man my new Master might allow to use me, let alone a whole roomful of men.  

All of the men had apparently been sitting at a long table playing cards, killing time.  Most had been drinking, but none appeared drunk.  A beautiful pool table took up the center of the room.  There were also a series of couches up against the walls around the room and what looked like nice Persian rugs in front of each couch.  A door in front of me led off to what appeared to be a bathroom.

Still standing in the center of the room, it was obvious to all that my face was drawn and white with pain.  I was still writhing, continually moving my hips and clenching my butt cheeks together in an attempt to avoid crying out.  Whatever it was, the mixture the driver had painted on the implement now buried so deeply inside me burned like acid, incinerating the vulnerable flesh of my rectum, working its way into the small rips and tears it was obvious I now sported due to the previous weeks of intense anal training.  

My world was incredibly focused.  This pain was all I cared about right now—it consumed my world and me with it.

At the same time, I slowly swayed back and forth as I tried to keep from urinating in front of these men.  If only I hadn’t drank so much coffee this afternoon.  If only the toilet hadn’t stopped working.  If only I hadn’t been kidnapped…….

I’d been a nice girl before these men, or men just like them, had gotten their hands on me---they’d degraded and humiliated me the whole time I’d been in their possession.  I remembered all the care I’d taken this afternoon in putting on my makeup and in choosing what to wear to meet my new Master tonight.  I thought about my stupid vow to unseat any other female slaves from their positions.  Fat chance of that now!  I knew I looked like hell right now; and I certainly didn’t feel very special right, but rather betrayed, abused and brutalized.

One man stepped forward and snapped his fingers.  Two men grabbed me and dragged me in front of the leader.  He looked at me for minute without saying a word, almost like he knew me but couldn’t remember my name, and then he grabbed my chin.  I still had the large rubber ball in mouth and the tape over my lips.  Holding my jaw painfully hard, he first turned my head to the left and then to the right as he looked at my face.  

Then he stepped back as he said, “So this is the one.  This is the one who has caused so much trouble over the last couple of weeks.”

He hesitated for a moment before he continued, “Pretty little thing.  Although she’s not so little, is she?  Big girl.  I like big girls.”  At this comment, there were a couple of appreciative chuckles.

“You’re due some pain, since we’ve been told that we’re allowed to discipline you.  I’m not sure exactly what you’ve done, but you’ve seriously pissed some people off.“ 

He looked me up and down, “You seem to be in a little, shall we say ‘discomfort’ from Roberto’s gift.  I like him and I don’t know you---that alone should trouble you a little.”

He tilted his head to the side as he looked at me, “I’ve been given some suggestions about how to treat you and what to do with you, but we’ll see.”

I felt a trickle of fear as he said, “You need to be ‘pumped and flushed’, but I’m not sure that we’re gonna’ give you what you need tonight.  We’d planned on giving you an enema and then corking your ass and letting you stew in your own juices for a while.  But I know you’ve got to piss too---you think the coffee and other stuff was an accident?  We were also going to catheterize you and let your bladder work a little while longer too.  By the way, you piss on the floor and I’ll beat you bloody fucking senseless---do you understand me?”

As he was saying this, he grabbed hair at the back of my head and forced me to nod my understanding of his order.  I was confused.  Someone had bought me.  Someone had spent a lot of money for me.  Why would they allow this?

He continued in a low voice, “What I do know is that we’re going to give you everything that we want you to have and that you’ll take everything that we want you take, but you may not get what you need tonight.  We’ll see; it all depends upon how appreciative you are and on how well you behave.”

The new whore’s Master had gathered these men from his plantation and given them permission to use the bitch hard on her first night in.  She needed to be broken in, needed to disciplined for some infraction which had occurred during her training.  Her new owner wanted to see how submissive she actually was.  

Some of these men were second-generation employees.  While extremely loyal, except for their leader these men were also all very low level employees like gardeners, drivers and all-around handy men---they were the lowest of the low.  These men had no real education, no real prospects and no certain hope.  They were all unwashed, ignorant and at dead ends in their lives.  Perhaps the worst part was that they knew this about themselves.  All the men knew for sure was that, even no one else did, at least the boss cared for them.  

That was what, in their minds, explained the health exams all had been subjected to less than two days ago.  None of them thought to ask about the three missing men; men who might not have passed the exam….

All the men knew was that this was the lying bitch they’d been told about, and they planned on giving her one hell of a lot more than an enema tonight.  But first, they’d make sure she knew that she was no better than them.  

If they had to live a life of ultimate hopelessness, they’d make sure this cunt was going to be right down there with them in the gutter.  They were looking at tonight as an opportunity to humiliate a beautiful young American and as a way to have great fun at the expense of this stupid bitch.  

I heard him say, “Put her up against the pool table.”

I was still handcuffed and could only move with difficulty.  Laughing, the men grabbed my arms and dragged me unresisting to the pool table where they forced me to bend over.  Fear thrilled down my spine again as they pushed my face onto the hard, flat surface.  I now laid there draped over the edge of the pool table with the right side of my face forced firmly into the felt surface.

The leader then told them to free my wrists and after a moment of fumbling, another man off to the side stepped up and took the handcuffs off of me.  My wrists now freed, one of the men put my left arm in a wrist lock and as he lifted up on my hand and wrist, all I could do was go further up on my toes as I tried to push my face into the table even harder in an attempt to reduce the pain he was causing my shoulder.  

I was barely aware they had lifted my skirt up around my waist and now looked at my nylon-clad legs and my naked butt as it was aimed into air—at this point the room went silent and one of the men gave out a soft whistle.  

The leader laughed and said in a soft voice, “Little one, you may only be nineteen, but you are definitely one hell of a woman.”

Although in agony from both the balls and rod so deeply entombed inside me and from the burning crème they carried, I was suddenly more aware of my situation.  I was both embarrassed that they could see me naked from the waist down and threatened.  I tried to resist them a little once again but they held me firm.  

My other hand had now also been put in a wrist lock and with both arms twisted into the air, I was helpless.  But I still had to urinate, and the more they pushed my abdomen against the table, and the more that the men used their joint locks on me, the more I was afraid that my distended bladder would fail and I would undergo the ultimate humiliation in front of these men.

The men were clustered around the table looking at the beautiful American teenager.  One of the men moved aside the wide garter that kept everything pushed inside her.  From the side, all that could be seen between the crack of her ass was the loop on the handle at the very base of the shaft.  The rubber stick was now buried completely inside her so deeply that when viewed directly from her rear, the wide flange at the base was only visible as it made a nice wide dimple between her buttocks, and which completely covered her asshole.  

The men first winced, then looked at each other with surprise.  Some shook their heads.  They’d been told what the driver had planned for her and they knew that most women couldn’t eat the whole stick like this without serious discomfort or even injury…….and she hadn’t seemed in that much discomfort.  Although a little young, this was a woman they knew in which a man could lose himself--a woman capable of taking inside and holding in everything a man had to offer.

I felt one of them fumble between my legs and finally unhook the pressure garter from the end of the rubber stick.  Then slowly, oh-so-slowly, one of them began to pull on the loop I knew must still be sticking out of me.  He leisurely began to withdraw the rod from inside my rectum. 

Already embarrassed, I was further humiliated as I heard my anus making either a hungry slurping noise or a farting sound as the rod was slowly removed and each ball popped out of me and back into sight again.  Soon, these humiliating and disconcerting sounds were drowned out by the laughter of the men.  

Finally, it was done and I felt like a huge, but somehow necessary presence in my colon had been removed and the void left behind felt like it still needed to be—it somehow ached to be filled again just to return me to normalcy.  But despite this, my rectum still burned with what the rod had deposited inside me and I had no way to stop that.

The leader said something to another one of the men and soon someone was standing behind me, forcibly spreading my cheeks.  I flashed with anger and tried to stand up, but I was pushed down again and pinned once more.  Suddenly, there was the blessed relief of a cold, wet washcloth, first cleaning me around my anus and then deeper as the man roughly probed and rubbed and swabbed.  He kept pushing deeper and deeper, and although he did not go as deeply as I desired it still helped me immensely.  

I was immensely thankful.  But I don’t think they were particularly concerned with my gratitude.  

I sensed the leader presence behind me and then he told the men to take off the tape that still covered my mouth.  When this had been done, without waiting for his permission, I opened my jaw as best I could and let the wet rubber ball slowly fall out of my mouth and onto the felt of the pool table.  As it rolled away from my face, a thin wet line was left on the felt from the saliva-wetted ball.  

After I did this, I guess to emphasize my training about doing nothing without first gaining permission from my new Master, one of the men put even more pressure on my wrist and lifted my arm, almost tearing it out of my shoulder socket.  All I could do was groan and cry out in pain.

The leader stood behind the kidnapped teenager and just looked at her lower body.  May still be a teen, but she was all woman too.  She was wearing sheer navy stockings and shoes with nice, high stiletto heels.  Her buttocks were bare and the tops of her hose ended only a few inches below her firm ass.  The tops of her stockings were of a heavier dark blue lace and about three inches wide; the wide lace band at the front of her thighs was pressed firmly against the side of the pool table as she was forced to lean into it.  

Damn, he thought to himself.  The bitch really did have great legs, but her high heels emphasized her calves and turned her legs from merely great to fucking magnificent.  

To his men he said, “Spread her legs apart.”  The two men looked at him, then still holding her wrists they immediately stepped towards each other and hooked their ankles inside of the girl’s  Once they’d done this, they dragged their feet back and forced her legs further apart until finally the new slave-cunt’s feet were between three and four feet apart.

The girl remained silent, her face distorted by the slate of the pool table.  Slowly, he stepped next to her as he said, “I hope you appreciate my sensitivity in trying to help you in your moment of need---in taking away some of the burning that those baaaaad men put inside you.”  

In reality, he was getting ready to fuck her in the ass and since he planned on taking her bareback, he didn’t want this burning crap on him too.

“You’ve definitely got a great pair of legs and all of us here appreciate how fucking beautiful they are.  You have to agree, one always needs to appreciate the finer things in life.  But you see, the thing is---word has come down,” he continued as he ran his hands up and down the outsides of her thighs before he cupped her buttocks in his hands, “of your inability to appreciate the pleasure that a man can bring you in a certain way.  So, it seems you have learned to just endure when you should be enjoying---you’re groaning and grunting when you should be singing your Master’s praises to heaven.”

“It’s not right,” he said, “that a beautiful young bitch like you should refuse to participate fully in what can be so gratifying an experience.  You need to learn to enjoy this with no reservations; to take part with joy and thanksgiving in your heart.  We’ll help you.”  

Along with chuckles of agreement from the men, the young woman had to hear the zzzzzippp as their leader undid his pants and dropped them down around his ankles.  She tried to raise her head but it was pushed back against the pool table again.  

Picture the slow majestic movement of a massive ship as it berths at a pier or the irresistible force represented by a locomotive gaining speed as it pulls a long line of fully laden cars.

He spread the new girl’s cheeks and opened her up with his hands to better expose the wrinkled brown target.  The girl bucked for a moment and then stopped, her efforts to get free useless.  He grimaced as he saw how she’d been pre-stretched, prepared for the current homecoming.  Then, without another word, he guided himself into her ass and stood for a second with only the first inch of his cock inside her.  

His path was perfect, the trajectory dead on as he aimed for the blonde teenager’s perfect chocolate starfish.  Her sphincter relaxed before him just the slightest, and this was what had allowed him to get the tip of his erection inside her.  All of this was accompanied by a soft groan of groan of tortured acquiescence from the helpless young woman.  He stopped then for just a moment and then leisurely leaned in against her flanks a little more.  

With this single move, he forced a small gasp of absolute discomfort from the bitch as she exhaled into the felt of the table top.  Then he put his hands lightly on her hips to maintain his balance and slowly leaned forward even further onto his toes.  

And this was how it took place.  The men watched as his long, lubricated cock gradually overpowered her body’s weakened defenses, inch by slick inch, slowly and majestically disappearing from sight inside her body from the rear end.

This is how he took the new slave the first time.  

Not quickly as a knife might pierce her vitals, but slowly, irresistibly and implacably, as if with a blunt, dull massive club.  Although to her it must have seemed as if it took forever for him to finish, in reality his entrance was soon completed and she was totally his.  

Besides the incredible feeling of his cock tightly enveloped by her young, heated flesh, his reward was her softly drawn out groaning cry of loss, a sound which let him know he had successfully filled her to the very brim.  As his groin nestled up against her firm ass flesh, he felt the lace at the top of her stockings rubbing against the front of his thighs.  He was now nestled up tightly against her rear and he leaned forward onto her back to first lick her left ear before he whispered into it, “Give me what I want or tonight we’ll make you wish you’d never been born.”  

“Give me your brown sugar, now, you bitch.  I want it now!”  Then he leaned back and looked at the left side of her face as her head was pushed into the table top.  Her left eye sparkled with unshed tears.  He couldn’t see the other side of her face but he just knew there too she would be fighting tears.  He knew he’d take this picture and this incredible set of physical sensations with him to his grave.  

He’d forced himself into me and then wanted me to make him feel good too.  Everything about me hurt.  My arms and shoulders, my hips and my rectum.  But mostly, the pain was centered on the new sensations radiating out from my rear.  But my face hurt, my bladder hurt and even my feet hurt, everything hurt.  But I tried, God help me I tried to please him.  

I pushed my hips back into him and rotated them a little.  But it wasn’t enough I guess.  Because he raised himself up on his tiptoes to change the angle of his penetration and suddenly his presence inside me felt like a knife tearing at my flesh, ripping like a wild animal at my colon.  

With this one move, he tried to rend me in half as he tore the muscle of my rectum.  I tried to raise myself to relieve the pressure on my anus, but the way his men held me, the way his weight on my hips and back kept me pinned made that impossible.  I cried out again and again as he did this to me, but all he did was laugh.  

He was buried inside the bitch to the hilt and she was tight around his erection.  This was a beautiful woman and everything about her was exquisite.  Her hole was warm, the flesh inside taut and constricting; everything was perfectly lubricated as he took his time slowly attaining full penetration time and time again.  Every time he went up on his toes, the muscles of her asshole would grab at him, trying to immobilize his cock.  Then she began to push back against him, probably in some pathetic effort to regain control of the situation.  

God, it felt wonderful as he drilled her.  Most women hated this shit.  Certainly, his wife never let him do this to her and he resented it; he enjoyed taking out his frustrations with his wife on hot little whores like this teenage American bitch.  They may not like it but they never dared complain either.

Finally, he noticed that his cock had begun to feel a little warm and he realized his man hadn’t gotten all of the crème out of her rectum, so he sped up a little and soon came like a mother-fucker inside the whore.  He stood there for a at least another minute after he’d cum and despite the increasing heat, he just concentrated on memorizing how good it felt to have a beautiful woman like this take it in the ass from him.  Finally, he grew so small he slid out of her no matter what he tried to do--it was time to pass her on to the others.

At his nod, the two men holding me now pulled me upright, escorted me over to a man sitting on one of the couches and then forced me to my knees on a rug in front of him.  He unzipped his pants and pulled his flaccid penis out, telling me in accented English to start sucking, “and if I bit him, he'd knock my teeth out and then face-fuck me anyway!”  

The two men pushed me forward and the man in front of me ground his soft, flabby cock against my face and lips.  

Still hidden in that small distant place in my mind and not yet having fully recovered mentally from being anally raped, I didn’t understand at first what he was saying.  

When I tentatively opened my mouth to him, he began to get harder without me touching him.  I shook my head a little, but eventually was able to get my hands up and grasp his penis.  Assuming a position I had by now learned by heart, I leaned into him and fully took him into my mouth.  

He immediately began to get even more hard as I began working him, but suddenly someone grabbed my hair from in back and forced my face forward completely into the man’s groin.  This other person wouldn’t let my head come back and I found I couldn’t breathe with his cock filling my mouth and my nose smashed into his belly.

Pushing back with my hands on the man’s knees, I was finally able to get enough room between my face and his groin to let me to breathe again.  But with the seated man using two full handfuls of my hair to pull my head back down on him and another man pushing my head from the back, I found myself being shoved onto and pulled off of his erection until my lipstick had left a thin glaze of color on him from tip to root.  

I was still too stunned to be doing much sucking.  But that seemed to okay, because I guess all he really wanted was somewhere to put himself inside me and then he’d do the rest.

I knew the rules seemed to have changed, that these men could do anything they wanted to me and I wouldn’t be able to stop them.  I’d really wanted to cooperate, but like the driver and the two men with him, that didn’t seem matter to these men.  I have thought a lot about this, and have concluded that it was my karma that these things happen to me only after I’d realized I couldn’t win and had finally, fully bought into my pending slavery and accepted all it entailed.  

I just wanted to survive.  My only hope now, my only defense was to do exactly what they demanded and hope they didn’t hurt me too badly.  Even though I had previously shut it down, that small part of my conscious mind which had acted like a third eye when I had been subtly resisting the men on the boat was critical to my safety now as I tried to go along with these men tonight and give them everything they wanted.  I felt as if I stood on the edge of a mental crevasse and these men were trying to push me over the edge.  And all I could do was try to prepare myself for whatever they decided to do.  

Finally, the head of his penis had lodged at the entrance to her throat and he felt her gag on him---with her face impaled on his cock like it was--her gagging motion actually felt kind of good to him.  Even as she retched and involuntarily tried to pull her head back, he still saw her lips inadvertently close over his erection.  

The moves the cunt made as she hunched her shoulders and gagged on his erection felt great and when they next pulled her head back, he could see a nice heavy ring of red from her lipstick right at the base of his cock.  Eventually, they pushed her head hard enough onto him that his cock slammed quickly past her gag reflex and down her throat in a way that didn’t allow her to breathe.  

They then held her head immobile with his cock totally buried in her mouth while they had a short conversation.  He’d known from the beginning the bitch couldn’t breathe and she became increasingly agitated as struggled to suck in air around the hard penis that filled her mouth and the upper part of her throat.  

“I love the way she stretches her lips stretch around my cock,” he purred in contentment as the teenager’s vision began to grow grey around the edges.  

“But I think you’re right though, she needs a lot of practice.”  

Then grabbing a handful of heavy blonde hair by each of her ears, he began to fiercely fuck her in the face.  It went on and on, and everyone could hear it---the sound of her forehead slapping against his belly was mirrored by her grunts as he forced himself into her; his balls making a soft slapping sound on her chin matched by the deep gagging sounds from her throat as she tried to breathe at odd moments.  

I needed to breathe desperately, but I refused to fight these men anymore.  My nose was pressed against his belly when he finally achieved release deep in the back of my throat—he wouldn’t let me come back up for air, so I was forced to swallow it.  But he came so deep in my throat that there was no taste—he had actually bypassed the taste buds on my tongue.  

A month ago I would have died if someone done this to me, but now it didn’t seem to bother me nearly as much anymore.  I hated to think I was getting so used to giving blowjobs to any man that wanted me and then swallowing his cum without retching…….but I was.  

He then pulled out a little and continued cumming in my mouth; a brutally rude move planned only to embarrass me, it still seemed like he’d never stop.  I had cum undiluted by my saliva dribbling out of the side of my mouth in long, thick white strings; it hung from my chin and spilled onto my chest and blouse.  When he finally pulled out of my mouth, I began coughing and even brought up a little cum which had been spent deep in my throat, cum which I had not yet swallowed.  For some unknown reason, this angered the fussy little man who had just throat-fucked me.  

They were all pigs, but it didn’t matter to me.  I was safe from them here deep inside my mind even as I fully cooperated.  As long as I could watch from a distance, they might take my body, but they’d never have the real me.  During my time on that floating hell, I had finally found you could do this if you just tried hard enough.  

You just tucked the unwanted thoughts and deeds of others deep into some backwater recess of your mind until the normal clutter of your life obscured it, and then you pretended it wasn’t there.  

I was good at this now.  I needed to be good because even if I was cooperating now, I still needed to somehow keep my sanity and this was the best way I’d found.

For the last month, I’d been more and more using my own special places for hiding things; dark little crevasses in my soul where one might tuck an experience or even a whole relationship, so that it never saw the light of day again.  

But this was my life now; I now knew there would be no savior for me, no white knight, no one to deliver me from the life of becoming the whore my new Master had planned for me.  

At nineteen, I also had finally faced myself and found I wasn’t really a strong person; certainly not tough enough to last for long in a life like this.  I wanted to die rather than provide sexual release for an untold number of men as I was sold from one owner to another.  

I hoped, I prayed I still had too much decency in me to survive.  I felt that a life like this would soon kill any remaining spark of goodness within me; and I knew I would be dead within a year.  But somehow that was okay too, because in the end it was only family that mattered, and because I was willing to sacrifice myself, my family was safe.  I’d kept them safe.  In the end, that truly was all that mattered.

 

 

Victoria was still on her knees coughing when two men grabbed her arms, pulled her to her feet and dragged her towards the pool table in the center of the room.  Oddly, as if she might be a danger to them, one of the men kept her in a wrist lock as they marched her back to the rest of the men, where willing hands picked her up and laid her on her back on the table.  There was a man holding each wrist and another man holding each shapely ankle. 

 

 

For some reason, this position snapped me out of my funk and back to my current reality.  I was surrounded by men who were more like wolves than humans.  My rectum ached and throbbed. I was scared, helpless, vulnerable and totally exposed.  For the first time, I begged them to let me go, but they just looked at me and laughed. 

 

While my arms were held tightly by my sides, my legs were pulled widely apart and my skirt then lifted up around my waist.  At the same time, other hands ripped my blouse open, sending white buttons flying everywhere and exposing my breasts for all to view.  Suddenly, and surprising even me, after all the men had done to me this awful night, fear metamorphosed into a blazing rage.  I began screaming my anger at them and struggling in earnest, throwing myself back and forth in a final attempt to free myself. 

 

The leader of the men grabbed my hair and pinned my head, forcing me to look at him.  He’d already taken what he wanted so no longer felt the need to pretend to any goodness. 

 

He looked directly into my eyes for a few moments before he said, “Bitch, this is what you are.  We’re not stopping for anything.  You’re a piece of ass now and you’re going to get passed around like a cheap stock tip.  These men have been waiting for you for weeks, so why would we stop now?” 

 

He then slapped me once, hard enough to stun me and I sensed him walk away as I lay motionless on the table.

 

The men were now lined up to have their turns with me.  I’d already been sodomized by the leader and I guess he’d fully indulged in his appetite for helpless women enough for now, so he pointed to who got to get up on the table with me. 

 

“Snakedriver,” he said, “go ahead.  I want to see what this bitch’s got.”

 

I had finally regained my wits after being slapped so hard.  Even though it shamed me, I pleaded with them; “Please,” I begged, “please for the sake of God, let me go to the bathroom.  Please.”

 

Laughing, the men all looked at each other and agreed they didn’t want me pissing all over the top of the pool table, so two of them helped me down and into the bathroom.  I quickly sat down on the toilet and with my blouse hanging open, I let loose with a gushing torrent.  I had been well-taught in the last month to ignore any false modesty where bodily functions were concerned.  Finished, the men allowed me wipe quickly and then dragged me back out and onto the table top.

 

 

In a supreme act of betrayal, all of the men had been informed of Jorge’s discovery of Victoria’s sexual weakness.  Telling the others to hold her tight, the first man quickly flipped her skirt up around her waist and reached between her legs and began to single-mindedly manipulate her genitals, focusing mainly on her clitoris. 

 

She’d recovered from the blow to the head but instead of fighting these men, she laid there unresisting with her legs spread wide for them as they masturbated her.  Another man soon brought out a small vibrator and between the two, after a couple of minutes of being manipulated, Victoria felt herself begin to respond in spite of herself.

 

 

She tried to ignore what they did, but the man worked hard at her tiny, hidden button of flesh, manipulating it with his fingers and the vibrator.  Finally, her clit was engorged, filled with blood and standing erect as if it was her own small penis.  Unwanted shivers ran down her spine as she still tried to ignore the men around her.  At this point, another man reached over and pulled a small silver alligator clip on a thin silver chain out of his pocket.  Without a word, he isolated her clit with his forefinger and thumb, and then attached the strong jaws of the clip to her engorged clit and ran the chain between her knees to the foot of the table. 

 

Not expecting this, Victoria couldn’t stop the surprised scream as he clamped the jaws onto her.  Ignoring her now thrashing body, he instead looked at the man who was ready to mount her and nodded his head.  Snakedriver was definitely ready for the woman, any woman, his erection pointing to the room’s ceiling.  He climbed up on the table and ignored her now weaker struggles as he got on his knees between her widely stretched thighs.

 

 

I knew what was coming, but couldn’t do anything about it.  I was finally beginning to come out of the trance I’d been in ever since I’d arrived here.  The anal burn was finally going away and the only thing really hurting right now were my hips and the insides of my thighs due to my legs being stretched apart almost to the breaking point.  I felt a gaping need between my legs which had to be filled, but I refused to allow myself the pleasure of responding to their attempts or of willingly giving the pleasure of my body.  These oafs would never entice me out of my self-imposed shell of safety.

 

First one man and then a second worked on my clitoris and it responded like I knew it would, like it always did.  Suddenly, in a flash of inspiration, I knew too that Jorge had betrayed me and informed these men of his discovery.  If possible, the men holding my ankles pulled my legs even further apart and a man leaned over my belly and hips for a second, but I couldn’t see what he was doing.

 

I tried to raise my head to watch him when suddenly there was a crushing, mashing pain in my clit and I shrieked my surprise and my pain.  It felt like my body had fragmented and the two main parts were connected only by this white hot, steel-hard point of pain between my legs.  Yet, at the same time a part of me was perversely awakened at the same time, for as sharp as sensation was, it was also somehow almost refreshing too.  When the man stood up again, I saw him lead a small chain back from between my thighs to the foot of the table. 

 

I moaned then.  God, it hurt! 

 

But, god help me too, that awkwardly headstrong part of me wanted to smile.  And the chills of anticipation which ran up my spine told a part of me that evaluating pain was a subjective matter at the best of times. 

 

Despite this, I struggled as best I could, still begging them to let me go.  Finally, I watched the one they called Snakedriver get on his knees between my legs, grab his cock and guide it into my pussy.  Whimpering with a pain that I somehow welcomed too, I closed my eyes and turned my head away from him.  I didn’t want to see the look of satisfaction on his face as he took me. 

 

Nor did I want him to see my face either.

 

I felt him split my labia with the blunt, shiny, dark purple head of his erection and he began his move to possess me.  My head slapped back onto the pool table and I gritted my teeth as it began.  Finally filled after a couple of tentative thrusts, I could soon tell I had become wet and slick to him as he now began filling me, sliding wetly and smoothly into me up to his nutsack.  The men continued to hold me immobilized as I lay beneath the one they called Snakedriver.  Refusing to move, I still did my best to reject my rapist. 

 

This was a man and therefore my master, but he was not my new Master.  I couldn’t conceive of my Master wanting me defiled like this before he’d been with me first himself.  However, according the pigs on me now, this was what he wanted. 

 

But in the end, it didn’t matter to me because it wasn’t a contest anymore.  Everyone obviously knew my body would eventually react to these pigs as they desired, but for me it would be just another in a long line of sexual assaults, rapes I did my best to forget almost as soon as they were over. 

 

I would never willingly cooperate with them.  Nothing they did to me here would change the ‘me’ that these base, vile men could never begin to appreciate.  The ‘me’ that living a life like this would soon kill. 

 

At the same time, the white hot pain that had centered between my legs seemed to change as I was kept continually filled by the man they called Snakedriver.  The sensations, the colors and smells, everything seemed to morph into something new, seemed to expand to a point where I felt it enveloping my whole body.  But I was still contained within the bubble it caused, and so I retained a modicum of control. 

 

My body wanted to respond, begged to respond to this man sexually and to the pain he so willingly shared with me.  Even though both of these things now seemed permanently coupled in my mind, still I fought, for I wouldn’t freely allow anyone to use me like this. 

 

No one, that is except my one true Master.

 

 

The leader watched Snakedriver fuck the beautiful young teenager once named Victoria and get no response.  From this, he knew the men on the boat had probably been correct---time to find out.  Nodding to the man with the silver chain, he started the teenager on her way to hell. 

 

The man with the chain began to give soft tugs on the chain connected to M’s genitals.  He would lightly shake the chain and swing it in small circles.  And after each move, he would keep a gentle pressure on the chain for a second, before he released it, ensuring she would always be feeling some sort of pulling pressure on her genitals. 

 

And then he would start the whole process all over again.  Worst of all, he seemed to be timing his tugs to the thrusts of the man fucking M.  Almost immediately, they saw a change in their new whore.

 

 

I felt the gentle tugs that were perfectly synchronized with the pig’s thrusts into me and knew for sure I’d been betrayed by the one man I thought I might trust on the boat.  I cried out in dread of what would happen to me if these men were successful and, in desperation, tried to move in a way that would stop the pulls on my womanhood, but it was all to no avail. 

 

As the tugs continued and I felt my vagina being filled by a man plunging into me in continuous, never-ending pile-driver slams, I felt too the carnal bitch-wanting-hot meat side of my nature tentatively come to the edge of the light.  It was as if the purely sensual part of mind had been lured into a fight to the death with the tiny part of rationality left me, the objective and civilized part of my mind that still remained to defend what was left of the real ‘me’. 

 

The animal side of me wanted to surrender forever to the pleasure of the moment and give every man here what he obviously wanted, to never again worry about what I had been taught as a child.  This was the side which hissed to me like a snake in the Garden of Eden that if it felt good and no one was hurt, then it was what I should do.  

 

Desperately fighting this desire to give in to my sensual nature was the other side of my being, the side my mother and father had spent years nurturing in me.  Delay your gratification, remember who you are, don’t embarrass yourself or your family, save yourself for your husband, eat your peas.

 

I fought them, I really did.  I struggled to free my arms and legs, and I threw my head from side to side, crying out for them to stop.  I begged them, “Oh God.  Please not this; please don’t do this to me.”

 

But I couldn’t say whether I meant the man on top or the man tugging at the foot of the table.  Maybe I spoke to both….maybe I lied….or maybe….

 

…I spoke to neither. 

 

In any case, they were in control, not me, and neither man stopped---both continued what they were doing.  Within minutes of being thrown on the table, I knew I was beginning to react as the men wanted.  I tried to bargain---I promised to be good and not fight them if they’d just let go of me---but no one believed me. 

 

Suddenly, it seemed like the ‘me’ I had known for nineteen years was gone and she’d been replaced by the slutty new woman now lying on the table.  The tiny part of me still capable of thought felt so relieved to give out a loud scream on purpose. 

 

I realized instead I was suddenly fearful, fearful of what might happen and fearful of what I might do. 

 

The race between my animal passion and my conscious ego took an eternity to be run and a second to complete.  I felt that tiny spark which controlled my civilized behavior move closer to the light….and closer again….and finally, tentatively, one step even closer.  Soon that tiny ember was illuminated and I looked at myself in detail---and then---like that, it was gone—I was gone---snuffed out by the pure animal needs which now so greedily controlled my every move.

 

I felt the man on me slowly withdrew his rigid cock until only the engorged purple head was still inside me, then he slammed forward again in one massive thrust, sending his engorged dick back in and filling me to my depths. 

 

I screamed again, but this time with pure pleasure.  God, I wanted more.  I didn’t want more, I had to have more of him.

 

I couldn’t help myself.  I tried, but just couldn’t.  I gasped when his groin slammed into my mound and, as my last rational act before all was lost, I tried to bite his ear.  The man softly tugging on my clit was driving me crazy!  He had to stop, he must stop.  He’d better never stop! 

 

In and out the man on top of me moved, keeping a slow, careful rhythm, obviously enjoying the feel of my tight flesh grabbing his erection; enjoying my hips arching to meet his thrusts and straining against the men holding my ankles, trying to keep his meat buried inside me.

 

After what seemed like an eternity, he pulled back for one last push.  I didn’t want to respond then and my mind ordered me stop, but on its own, my body did its best to thrust my hips up to meet him.  Almost pulling out of me, the man grunted and rammed forward one more time with all his strength.  

Just at that moment, the man at my feet gave a long hard steady pull on my clit.  

My thinking went dark as all rationality departed like a light turned off in a secluded room.  Reacting now like a mindless zombie, I felt my head snap back hard against the table and I heard myself give a long muffled wail of pure pleasure.  With the insides of my upper thighs, I felt the man inside me tighten his ass and shove into to me several more times.  

But my focus had shifted to a tiny pin-point light made of the hardest diamond and all I knew then was the continuous gentle tugging on my clit.  And finally, I felt a wonderful firebomb of burning hot semen light up every part of my vagina as it was injected deep inside my belly.  The man on top of me shuddered and grunted, and the feeling of his scalding sperm continued to shoot into me, into my pussy.  He’d drilled me with his meat and now he filled me with his wondrous creamy pleasure as the men on the boat had always done.

Now fully satisfied with what he had done to me, after a moment he withdrew his dick still wetted with both of our fluids.  I knew everyone was watching me, watching how I would react, how I had reacted, watching the lips of my dark red, blood-engorged pussy cling to his cock as he pulled out.  They saw the alligator clamp cruelly fixed to my erect button of flesh.  And they knew how much I had enjoyed being fucked.  

But sight of that metal clip didn’t matter to them, for another man quickly jumped on the table when the first man pulled himself out and then got off of me.  With one move of his hips, he entered my soaking wet, now openly inviting vagina.  As this man took his turn, I swore I could feel my vagina being slowly stretched and filled with his enormously thick cock.  He was really big around and I knew my facial expression must be one of agony for I felt like he was tearing me apart with his erection.  

At the same time, my clit was still being abused by the man below: tug, tug, tug.  The sensations there never dimmed, remaining wondrously inviting---a brilliant crystalline point of anguish/pleasure in the distance which seemed to burn brighter and brighter the more the man pulled.  I wanted this uninvited act to be awful---but the worst part was how it truly wasn’t pain anymore, but rather had gone from something which had caused me intense suffering….to something that profoundly stimulated and excited me.  

It was a beautiful, wondrous pain now.  One I had first only accepted and then desired.  Now, I found I actually needed that wonderfully erotic touch of the cold metal lover between my legs.

 

As from a distance, I heard the man on top of me ask, “You like it darling, don’t you?” 

 

I ignored his question, but not his driving cock.  I fucked him then as much, or more, than he fucked me on the hard surface of that pool table.  Nineteen-years old, captured only a month ago and here against my will, once a good girl, and now….and now…..I gritted my teeth and pumped my hips into him again and again, trying to push this unknown man deeper inside me.  They finally released my ankles and I was able to do even more. 

 

How far can a girl fall and still look herself in a mirror?  My mother and father would have been horrified to see me now.  I was an awful person, a terrible woman, was there even a point beyond which even the new me would not go?  I could not answer that question anymore because I still did not know how far I was willing to go, how far I would fall before it had been enough, what depths I was willing to investigate before finally reaching the very bottom, before reaching a threshold even I would not pass…..

 

Soon, panting with his exertions, he asked me again, “You really like it, don’t you, you bitch?” 

 

Without thinking, to my horror I heard myself agree with him softly, “Yesssss.” 

 

This shocked me enough that I knew I had to make one last feeble try to not give in to the animal pleasure.  “Please,” I begged softly in faux denial, the voice of a broken woman with one last false request, “don’t do this to me.” 

 

Doing what I had always been taught was the right thing at that moment…..ignoring my body’s desires like that and going against the demand singing through every part of my body….that was perhaps the most difficult things I have ever done. 

 

 

He looked at the kidnapped blonde teenager lying beneath him---first she agreed she liked being fucked by him---and in the next breathe she was begging him to stop.  Already contemptuous of her, now he despised the little cock teaser and he let her know this.  Her master would not allow him to hurt her physically, but he could show his contempt in other ways.  His belly and hips and ass shook with renewed vigor as he slammed his cock into her again and again as hard as he could. 

 

How easy it was that fucking could go from pleasure to grudge.

 

At the same time, he shouted, “The only fucking thing you get to beg for is more cock buried inside you, you bitch.  You come in here dressed like a fucking whore, a cheap looking cock-sucking cunt and you want us to stop?  Fuck you, you slut!  Who do you think you’re kidding?  You’ll fuck and suck every man here until none of us get it up anymore.  You’re a slut and you’ll prove it to every one of us tonight."

 

Victoria started to say something in protest.  He grabbed her throat as he interrupted, “Shut up, you whore, you cock-sucking, ass-fucked bitch.  There’re a lot of men that are going to fuck you tonight, hundreds---maybe thousands, so just shut the fuck up.”  

 

With that, he released her throat and started pumping her for real.  The man below kept tugging on her clit without mercy and finally Victoria exploded.

 

 

I groaned in sheer pleasure and with my eyes closed and head moving from side to side, I begged, “Don’t….please.  Don’t….deeper.”  Tug.  “Please.”  Tug.  “Deeper.”  Tug.  The man on me looked down in amazement and almost stopped driving into me.  Tug.

 

I didn’t want this.  Tug.

 

I didn’t want that.  Tug.

 

I didn’t want him to stop.  Tug.

 

Tug.

 

Tug.

 

Suddenly, my eyes flew open and I moaned, “Yes.  Yesssss!!  Fuck me.  You ugly bastard, you piece of shit, you wanted to fuck me----so fuck me now.  You may be ugly, but I need your cock bad.” 

 

Tug.

 

“Oh yes, right there---deeper---right therrrre---deeper, now fuck me hard, please.  Hard, HARDER!!!” 

 

Tug.

 

He smiled down at me and said, “You are such a slut, you bitch.  Rich American whores like you.  You know you’re a cunt, don’t you?  Admit it!!  Right?”  He nodded at the men holding my arms and ankles and they let go of me.

 

Tug. 

 

I was free now. 

 

Tug. 

 

I could struggle, I could stop him, I could stop this.

 

Tug. 

 

I couldn’t help myself.  “Stick that beautiful cock in my pussy.  Fuck me.  Oh God, oh God.  FUCK MEEE HEREEEEE!”  Tug.

 

They stood around the table and watched my first truly uncontrolled climax with a man that night as my ass clenched, my stomach muscles tightened and my legs stiffened.  I slammed my hands on the table repeatedly and scratched his ass pulling him further into me.  I whipped my head back and forth like a woman possessed, while my body spasmed and jerked about and my nylon-clad legs intertwined uncontrollably with his. 

 

Finally, I drew long gouges of flesh out of his back with my nails as my vagina clenched around his cock and seemed to draw ever more of him inside me.  He howled in both delight and pain, but never stopped what he was doing.  My ankles were crossed over his lower back now as we struggled in our age-old embrace, and then…and then he was done. 

 

I felt him cum inside me in a wave of wonderfully intense heat and I milked him dry of every drop he held then while he groaned above me in sheer pleasure.  But I could not do it as thoroughly as I would have liked---for there were more men waiting.

 

Men came in me and got themselves off and other men got on me.  They’d long ago released me because there was no longer any need for restraint---I was cooperating fully with them now.  They knew I was now willing to take care of ALL their needs.  

 

I had one man inside me, my face was turned to the side as I sucked off a second and I was jerking off a third with my hands.  I heard them asking me questions as if from a distance.  I didn’t care what I did or said right now, it was almost like I had been drugged and was floating on the highest high ever felt by a woman before. 

 

They demanded, and I would hear them.  I’d take the unknown man’s cock out of my mouth just long enough to mumble an answer and then I would put it back in and greedily begin sucking on it again.

 

The next man to take me had a giant cock and I didn’t even remember if he’d fucked me yet or not. 

 

Tug, tug. 

 

I grabbed his erection and said, “Oh, god, don’t stop.  Don’t ever stop.  Please fill me with that glorious piece of meat.” 

 

I looked at the man who now had his penis buried in my mouth.  I took him out of my mouth long enough to smile lazily at him, the satisfied little girl who murmured, “I’m a little cocksucker,” and then almost drowsily resumed working on him.

 

I pulled him out of my mouth again.  “GIVE ME MORE!!!” I bellowed, demanding this of the man between my legs.  Tug.  Lying between my thighs, he hunched his hips and then drove his hugeness into me.  My head snapped back and I knew my mouth gaped wide open then with his first move.  The man standing to the side took advantage of me at that moment and filled my mouth once more as it opened, but I didn’t care.  The pleasure was so intense that my eyes gave a quick flicker as they attempted to roll back in my sockets.

 

“Squeeze me with your pussy, it’ll feel even better for you; it’ll feel real good for you,” the big man demanded of me.

 

Tug.  I babbled in ecstasy, “You’re HUGE!  I can do it.  I can squeeze my pussy.  My cunt, it squeezes….good.  It squeezes, oh….so….good.”

“That’s right.  Oh, you fucking American slut.  Squeeze me you bitch,” he demanded.  “That’s right, squeeze.  Now you fucking whore, if you want more, call yourself a whore.  NOW!” 

Tug.  “I’m a whore.”  

Tug, tug.  “Fuck me, I’m a whore.”  

Tug.  “Don’t stop.  I’m a whore.  I need to be fucked…..”  

Tug.  “…..by you.”

The men standing around me laughed, but I didn’t care.  I was beyond being shamed because of my need.  

Someone else said, “You’re a cock-sucking slut bitch and you’ll fuck any man here just to empty him, won’t you.  You’ll fuck anything as long as it’s got a piece of meat to stick inside you.   Right?”

I didn’t care what I said, words had no meaning to me at this point. 

 

Tug.  “I’m a fucking slut and a whore.  Yes, I’m a slut.  Fuck me you bastards.” 

 

Tug.  “You’re too slow.  Fuck me and cum in me, cum in my pussy.  Just fuck me!  I’m a cock-sucking slut that loves to be fucked.  Find me a MAN!!  Somebody DO ME!!!”

 

Somebody else grabbed my face and made me look at them as they asked me, “Deep down inside, you’ve always known you’re a slut—haven’t you?  Being a slut---this excites you---you don’t get to make any choices here, so you’re not responsible either---you get all of the pleasure and none of the guilt.  You always thought yourself a good girl, but now you know you are not at all like you thought you were.  That you actually like having unknown men, lines of guys fucking you in the pussy and dumping their hot sticky cum in your ass and smearing it all over your face, don’t you?” 

 

He shook my face and said, “Answer, you whore.”

 

Everything about me had been a lie before this.  My actions had betrayed me here, and I had nothing left to hide.  I am not sure that the truth can ever set a person free, but it did seem like a weight lifted from my soul then. 

 

“Yes,” I replied.  “I’m a whore and a slut.  I’m everything you said.  I love having cocks inside me.  I can’t help it, I love it.”  Tug. 

 

“Fuck me.”  Tug. 

 

“Fuck my cunt.  Fuck me in the ass.  Fuck my mouth.  Just fuck me.”  Tug.  Tug.

 

When the man now riding me was finally ready to blow his first load, he pulled out of me, spread his knees on either side of my chest and jerked off, eventually shooting his sperm all over my face and my tits; then he used my long blonde hair to wipe off his slippery wet cock. 

 

I did not care even as he pulled on my hair, for I had his essence to rub on my chest, all over my tits and belly.  My vagina buzzed with excitation, my legs writhed as I impatiently waited for whoever was next. 

 

His wild eyes filled with lust, the next man mounted me like a bull.  He viciously rammed himself inside me hard enough to leave bruises.  The thing was, I found myself reacting as violently as he….the whole thing was so ferocious that it was almost like a fight. 

 

At the end, he pushed his cock deep inside me and just began flexing himself—there was no in and out motion at this point.  I was in no mood for games, I had to have him doing me!!

 

I tightened down on him with my pussy and then began clenching and releasing, clenching and releasing, all without moving any other muscles in my body.  He moaned and moaned again, muttering that it was like being squeezed by a warm, moist hand.  He began pumping then and gave me exactly what I needed.  His orgasm at the finish was so powerful he almost passed out with pleasure. 

 

But he didn’t. 

 

After he had shot his load into me, he knelt between my widespread thighs and rubbed the head of his cock up and down my slit while the previous man pulled on my hair, forcing my head to the side.  He then pushed his flaccid cock into my mouth and made me suck him clean.  The man next in line pulled both men away after allowing only a minute of this. 

 

I was to be allowed no rest.  The man that had pulled my previous lover away now lay down on the pool table on his back.  He pulled me on top of him with my back on his chest, my captured tits pointing at the ceiling.  His cock was long, but thankfully not too wide.  Lubricated, it easily slid into my ass and he began fucking me anally, reverse cowgirl style.  It felt….it felt…..there was no use denying the truth—it excited me and it felt good being taken this way—especially by a man without the massive girth I had become so used to. 

 

Then, helpless to avoid it, I watched as another man climbed between my widespread thighs.  A big man, he jammed his cock into my pussy, filling me there.  I had been double penetrated!  Not exactly new to this, I was achingly familiar with the multiple sensations that were to come. 

 

Always before though, it had been done to a different person--I had been a different girl then, a young inexperienced girl who had denied not only her true nature but her willingness to enjoy that which could not be denied—or prevented. 

 

It hurt for just an instant, having two large cocks pushing into me, separated only by the thinnest wall of flesh.  But the feeling of both holes being so fucking filled on the inside overcame any initial discomfort and literally within seconds, it put me over the edge.  I was gasping and panting in supreme pleasure when the man under me pulled my hair away and whispered in my ear, "Tell us what you want, bitch.  Now tell us exactly what you want.”

 

I tried not respond.  Truly, I knew these men already despised me.  But I didn’t care what they thought---and I had no reason to give them what they wanted that way.  So I didn’t say anything.  But just then, the two men fucking me hit a rhythm that I couldn’t deny.  Sheer physical pleasure frantically bubbled to the surface within my bound chest.  I had to say something to this, I had to respond….

 

"OH GOD!  JUST FUCK ME!" I screamed.  "FUCK ME EVERYWHERE!  PLEASE! FUUUUUUCCCCCCKKK MEEEEEEE!  I WANT ALL OF YOUR BIG BEAUTIFUL COCKS!"

 

The coarse laughter my howl brought on died out after moment.  But to the amusement of all the men watching, I wailed in need once more as another orgasm came to a head just from the feeling of the hard fat meat thrusting into my rectum from below….and to my later shame, I think I remember begging this unknown man to fuck my ass even harder.

 

Another man now filled my mouth to quiet me.  I immediately knew he had already taken me once for I tasted myself on him, but I sucked on him nonetheless like he had the world’s largest lollipop hanging between his legs. 

 

Ironically….and irrationally…having every hole in my body filled at one time somehow gave me an amazing feeling of power over these men.  I felt all three responding to me as the two that sandwiched me fucked me harder and I sucked the third harder and deeper down my throat. 

 

That feeling of control however, departed as the cock in my mouth shot a weak initial string of cum down my throat, only to pull out and cream his remaining jizm all over my face.  As he did this, the two other men came almost simultaneously in my ass and pussy.  

 

As I felt them erupt inside me, I too came one last time.  It felt like a bolt of full-body lightning struck when orgasms rolled out of my vagina and anus at the same time.  The skin on my belly and on the insides of my thighs tightened as all of the muscles in my body flexed and relaxed, flexed and relaxed over and over again as waves of pure pleasure ripped through my body. 

 

I almost blacked out with the clean and untainted sexual pleasure they had given me.  But as I lay there in a sexual daze, my mind barely working, I heard the man under me whisper in my ear, "You have such a perfect ass.  You truly are an ass-whore.” 

 

I could nothing but shudder again in pleasure as I nodded in agreement with his coarse analysis. 

 

I was conflicted--there were too many men---or perhaps not enough? 

 

Despite everything and as one might expect, the men not yet satisfied were impatient: there was no waiting, no delay. 

 

The remaining men all took their turns and did much the same as had their predecessors.  Some came in me and others on me.  One man rolled me over and took me in the ass again.  Already way too far gone to pretend to any dignity, I pleaded for more and cursed them for not having enough to satisfy me. 

 

At the end, when the alligator clamp was accidentally pulled off once, I begged them to put it back on me.  The sense of anticipation was wonderful and the familiar sharp crushing pain between my legs as it was re-applied had finally turned into a keenly intense, achingly beautiful feeling which drove my sexual need more than anything I had ever experienced before. 

 

I’d tried to fight my nature in the beginning, but that pretension to being a normal person, a good girl had not lasted long once temptation had reared.  I now finally was experiencing what my initial recruiters had been telling me all along---that my road to true freedom lay in willingly giving control to someone else; in not only accepting the pain that others brought me, but in taking it into me; in understanding the ‘rightness’ of them doing this to me, in somehow making it a necessary part of me.  Degradation can be beautiful, under the right circumstances. 

 

When every man there had taken me at least once, it started over and became more inventive.  I loved it and finally, for the first time in my life, never felt the least inhibited.  Most of the evening was a blur, a blur of pain savored and animal sex relished; I still have no real idea about much of what I did with these men.

 

At the end, I felt like the monsoon itself; as hot and wet and sticky as the Central American jungle around me.  Anything that could come out of a man was on me.  When the last man was finally drained of all fluids, my hair, my face and my chest were completely covered in semen.  It ran off of my swollen breasts in rivers and sticky strings onto my ribs and then the table.  It ran in globs down the sides of my face, into my ears and onto my neck. 

 

My hair was a darker blonde now because it was so matted, sticky and wet from cum wiped on it.  My lipstick was smeared all over my mouth and my eyelashes had globs of drying sperm on them.  My eyes were almost glued shut from sticky and drying cum.  There were pools and rivers of sperm on my lower stomach, pussy and on the insides of my thighs. 

 

My ass was sore and draining semen onto the table top as I laid there.  I was sore all over.  My clitoris and labia were especially sore, as were the walls of my vagina.  I’d never gone through anything like this before. 

 

On the other hand, as I listened to them talk, neither had the men.

 

Now that it was over, I laid on my back on the table with my eyes closed.  My forearm was draped over my eyes and I was breathing slowly, trying to collect my thoughts, trying to understand what had just happened. 

 

Out of nowhere, thoughts of my past entered my mind—what would my parents think of me now?  How would my Aunt Samantha, the black-sheep of the family react?  What would all of my friends at school say about me if they could see like this?  Where had the good-girl, the slightly naïve and socially awkward Victoria gone?  Who was this sex-crazed slut and how had she replaced the high school girl who never broke any rules? 

 

I suddenly wanted to cry, but refused to do so in front of these men. 

 

The men were all laughing and talking about what a good time they’d had with me and what they’d like to do me again tomorrow evening.  They were laughing about what a whore I was and how lucky I was that they’d been there.  Every now and then one of the men would reach over and grope me again.  I didn’t react to this, but just let it go.  Especially since I was so nasty that none of them really wanted to touch me for long anyway. 

 

Besides suddenly feeling sorry for myself, in another, much coarser way I felt pity for them too.  This was a necessary emotional defense, I think.  They had perhaps enjoyed themselves once or twice with me.  I, on the other hand, had enjoyed each and every one of them multiple times.  The newly discovered bad girl inside whispered in a mocking, laughing tone---it just didn’t seem fair now, how limited their experiences were compared to what I had just enjoyed.

 

I laid on the table for almost twenty minutes.  My body blazed with the embers of the reduced levels of hormones still awash in my blood.  I felt warm and good and tingly all over, but I knew I soon must be coming down from my endorphin high. 

 

And so, reality finally hit.  After about half an hour I had finally started to feel a little regret at my actions and within minutes after that I was feeling even more guilt.  From good girl to bad girl, and now, predictably, a small part of me wanted to go back again for more while the remainder whispered I was not bad, I was awful. 

 

I wanted to cry, but got angry instead.  I almost stamped my foot in frustration.  It wasn’t happening! 

 

I was not willing to waste any more time or effort on pretending. 

 

There was no doubt in my mind now.  I knew for certain that I belonged here---that I was property—sexual property--owned by a man.  At nineteen, I knew I was another man’s whore, to be given to other men as my Master pleased.  I had known I was going to be gang raped as soon as I’d walked into this room. 

 

Hell!  I being brutally honest with myself.  More than honesty, I filled with disgust at myself, for I wasn’t even sure it had been rape.  I knew in my heart that after they’d started, I had cooperated in every way I could with them.  God, Victoria, I suddenly thought to myself, the only thing was, if you were going to be a whore, at least you could have been a whore with a little more class.

 

I thought back to what I’d said to the men once I’d been clamped; how I’d babbled and incited them, prompting them, always promising them more.  I’d always been taught that a person’s true character comes through in times of stress and emergency and need.  But this had always been taught to me as a way to understand how people like me rose to the occasion. 

 

But this?  With this, I now knew my true character had been hidden all these years---that in fact, I had failed.  I had fallen, failed to rise to the challenge, was nothing more than a base slut who had had a little luck in being born to the right family, in being raised by good people, people better and stronger than I. 

 

Suddenly I was completely humiliated and disgusted with myself.  No, actually filled with self-hatred might be a better description for how I felt right now.  I accepted that I was my Master’s whore now.  And as his whore I knew I had to service any man he commanded me, but I had not been ordered to lose control in the way I had.  But at the same time, with what they’d been doing to me I knew there had been no way I could have avoided it either.  But that still didn’t stop the guilt.  I felt horrible guilt--that I could never again claim to be my father’s daughter because of what I’d done with these men.  I just wanted to die of shame.

 

I’d dressed like a slut and acted like a whore, a woman without quality, and I had therefore deserved to be treated like one.  I felt sickened with disgust at what I had just participated in.  It wasn’t the men’s fault, not really, it was all mine.  I had not had any choice in what I wore, but that really didn’t matter.  All they’d done was take advantage of what they’d somehow known I’d been subconsciously hiding.  I knew that if there was any responsibility here for what had happened this evening, it was all mine. 

 

Bossman had always been right, there were consequences for actions.  I knew at that moment that Jorge, Enrique and even The Evil One had been right—they’d known things about me that I hadn’t even known about myself, had not allowed myself to know.

All of these thoughts went through my mind in seconds.  Both nylons had runs in them.  I still lay on the table with one laddered knee raised and suddenly, I thought I would vomit.  I was the lowest of the low; these men were uneducated trash and yet somehow, I’d humiliated myself by raising them above me, by reveling in lying in the gutter with them. 

 

Given how I had just performed, I had no right to expect anything from my new Master other than to be used as the main attraction at an endless string of low-class gangbangs.  Serial gang-bangs until he got rid of me. 

 

I closed my eyes at the thought of how low I had fallen, of what I had become.  I put my arm over my eyes and began quietly sobbing like I was a child again.  I hated it—I hated myself---my head was so fucked up!

 

The leader of the men was smoking a cigar when he walked up to me as I lay on the table, “Get off the table and get cleaned up.  We’ve got a little while before we have to go back to our wives, the women we respect.  So get off the table while we finish playing cards.  Get up whore, NOW.”

 

I felt like a cur, a dog beaten within an inch of its life.  A dog that had always before fought to survive, but was now just too tired to continue, too tired to continue living.

 

Finally, I stopped crying and with a few sniffles, I slowly and painfully crawled off of the table.  No one offered to help me and since I was still wearing my stiletto ‘fuck-me’ heels, I wobbled precariously for a moment on shaky legs before being able to head towards the bathroom.  It hurt my vagina to walk, it hurt my rectum to walk, my clit ached and stung from where sweat ran into the small cuts from the jaws of the clamp.  My lower back hurt from lying for hours on the flat table with the men’s weight on me and I found it difficult to move my hips. 

 

I went in and stopped just inside the door, resting for a second against the doorjamb with my eyes closed.  Then I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror and my tears began flowing again for I both hated and despised what I saw there. 

 

I didn’t see a beautiful teenage girl with her life ahead of her.  Instead I saw a slutty whore who had just participated in a full-on gangbang and who had gloried in being dragged down to wallow in the most base levels a decent woman could ever pray to avoid.

 

I leaned over the sink and vomited a thin, whitish fluid from my stomach, and then ran some water into my mouth and rinsed it out.  I washed my face and ran my fingers through my hair in an attempt to bring back a little order.  I didn’t have any makeup with me or a hairbrush, so I did the best that I could under the circumstances. 

 

My blouse was a shambles with all of the buttons gone and my stockings had multiple runs in them front and back.  My short navy skirt was still in one piece, but was stained a semi-transparent white all over the front from where men had cum on me.  With what little dignity I had remaining, I looked at myself in the mirror again; when I saw what I looked like even after my best attempts at grooming, I burst into tears again.  I looked like a crack whore who had been beaten and ridden hard by wild animals.  I looked like a whore who had just voluntarily pleasured eight or ten or fifteen men multiple times with every opening in her body. 

 

I leaned over the sink again until the nausea faded a little—I felt like I was going to vomit again.

 

I heard the men start calling on me to come out, but I ran some cold water onto a small washcloth and washed my chest and the insides of my thighs, and then I tenderly cleaned my rear end of the semen that was still draining out of it. 

 

Finally, I began trying to clean the semen stains from my skirt and my wreck of a blouse.  Even though I had runs in my hose, after tightening my stockings and tucking my blouse into the top of my skirt to keep it closed over my breasts, I looked a little more respectable. 

 

Finally presentable, if that word could ever again be used again to describe me, I slowly walked back out into the game room. 

 

There was a soft Latin beat playing on a radio and the lighting was subdued except for over the table.  Without even looking at me, the leader said, “Dance, chica.  Go ahead.  Start dancing for us, you cheap bitch.”

 

I looked at him in silence for a moment and then started to ask him what he wanted me to do, when he interrupted me with, “Shut up and dance, bitch.” 

 

I recognized a peremptory command from my temporary Master, so even though I could barely walk, without another word I slowly began to sway around the room.  Every now and then I would raise my arms over my and close my eyes.  Within a few minutes, I felt I was almost safe again, cocooned in a world of my own imagination. 

 

They didn’t bother me anymore and I ignored them as I moved, refusing to meet their knowing eyes or listen to their mocking comments.  Instead I imagined I was safely back in my bedroom in my parent’s house.  Three of my best girlfriends were with me and we were planning on where we were going to college, what we were going to be doing with the rest of our lives. 

 

My eyes flooded at these comforting images, but I somehow stopped myself from crying. 

 

After a moment, I opened my eyes to my reality.  My back and feet hurt, and my legs were exhausted from fucking these men, but I danced for over thirty minutes before the men finally finished their game and started leaving---at this point, I was now dancing mostly for myself and not for the pigs.  Although tired and sore, I was still swaying my way around the room as the last man left. 

 

Finally, it registered there was no one left in the room except for myself and I stopped dancing.  I looked around and then slowly walked over to an old couch and sat down.  I didn’t know what to do next.  I didn’t where I was or where I was supposed to go.  I was so lost.  I pulled my knees up under me as I looked at the table in the center of the room and slowly, tears began to leak from my eyes.  

After a moment, I raised my chin and made myself stop crying.  A second later, I wiped my tears away, laid my head down and closed my eyes in an attempt to sleep.  God, I was so tired, so awfully tired of being abused and hurt and used by men.  I just wanted it all to end.  

I thought of Bossman then once more.  Like a stupid teenage girl infatuated with an older man, my thoughts went back to how much I had enjoyed talking with him even though he was responsible in many ways---but not all---for me being here.  I thought about what I had learned from him, and how in the end had even admired some aspects of him as a person.  

We had talked and he had protected me.  God knows it was stupid, probably suicidal, but I missed him!!

These insane thoughts rocketed around my head, but I was too weak to continue.  Psychologically bruised, sexually battered, physically and emotionally exhausted, once more just a nineteen-year old girl, I finally fell into a deep sleep.  

I awoke in the morning gasping in pain.  My whole body was sore but it was the soreness of sexual licentiousness.  The insides of my thighs and my vagina and my rear end that were the worst.  My clitoris felt like it had been caught in a door and the door slammed shut.  Several times. 

 

I had vague memories of lying on a couch, of wrapping my wet, cum-soaked clothing around me and falling into an exhausted sleep; of someone picking me up and carrying me; of hands cleaning me.  Somehow I had ended in a bed with clean sheets and wearing clean cotton panties and a T-shirt.

 

I opened my eyes and then blinked.  I found myself lying on my side in the bed with my knees drawn up to my chest.  My cheek felt mashed drool-stained.  A sheet and thin blanket were pulled over my head as if they could protect me from the monsters I now knew existed in every shadow of my new world.  Even I knew the darkness this sheltering bedding gave shielded me psychologically from the danger I sensed everywhere around me. 

 

I’m not afraid to admit I was afraid---afraid of what my future held, afraid of who held me and afraid of how I might respond to the demands he might make. 

 

Within thirty minutes of my awaking, a soft knock on the door startled me.  I didn’t move and after a minute, the knock came again.  Finally, I got out of bed and walked stiffly over thick carpeting to the door.  It was locked from my side; I unlocked it and opened it enough to peek through the crack. 

 

Georges stood there waiting patiently.  I opened the door a little wider, but still hid behind it. 

 

Seeing my face peeking around the door Georges said, “Breakfast is ready when you are.  The dining room is straight down this hall and to your left.” 

 

Pointing with his chin to inside my room, he said, “There is a bathroom there and clean clothing can be found in the closet.” 

 

With that, he nodded his head and departed. 

 

There had been nothing in his voice to tell me he thought less of me because of last night, no overt acknowledgement of my whorish acts.  Perhaps he didn’t know?  Perhaps he wouldn’t find out?  I later understood that very little escaped Georges.  Even later, I finally realized that he also was one of the very rare people who never judged a person if he himself hadn’t gone through the same experiences.  He was always a gentleman in this and never let me down.

 

Now awake and up, I began to explore the bedroom in a halting fashion as my muscles worked out the soreness from last night.  The bed was massive and must have been custom-made.  It was larger than a normal king-sized bed and the mattress was incredibly comfortable.  The sheets were of silky feeling Egyptian cotton with at least a 600 thread count.  There was a well-lit make-up table in the corner and two comfortable looking over-stuffed chairs. 

 

Located at the foot of the bed, a small upholstered bench sat next to a massive metal-strapped trunk made out of shining dark teak wood.  I later discovered the trunk had been used aboard sailing ships two hundred and fifty years ago in the silk trade between Oman and India.

 

While the bedroom was furnished in more of a comfortable old-world fashion, the bathroom was modern with shining burgundy and dark gray tile and gleaming chrome fixtures.  Drawers on the side of two sink vanity held everything I would ever need; toothbrushes still in the wrappers, toothpaste, soap, shampoo, and razors.  The lowermost drawer on the left contained a series of increasingly larger butt plugs, each set in an individual holder.  There were also feminine products, although I knew that, unless forced to undergo an abortion, I wouldn’t be needing tampons for at least another eight months. 

 

The sudden thought of being forced to have an abortion stopped me in my tracks as sadness filled me momentarily. 

 

From here I slowly walked over to two doors built into the wall.  Opening them revealed a large walk-in closet filled with various types of clothing, all my size.  Sexy skirts and blouses and dresses were hung side by side with more normal jackets and pant suits and various types of tops, all hanging from racks by the wall. 

 

One side had numerous built-in drawers; and when opened these revealed folded jeans, athletic wear, underwear, socks and even some pantyhose.  The largest drawers at the bottom held all of my lingerie from the boat, including the stockings I’d brought with me.

 

Opposite the drawers, rows and rows of shoes in my size stood in straight lines.  They included various flats and comfortable walking shoes, as well as multiple pairs of tennis and running shoes. 

 

All of the high heels that I’d been wearing for the last thirty days (plus many others I had never before seen) took up at least two rows.  An involuntary shudder ran through my body as I saw them.

 

Getting ready to eat took me over an hour and a half as I knew I had to shower and shampoo my hair before I did anything else.  I was finally able let my hair dry naturally, because I hated the way blow driers dried my hair out.  Eventually my makeup was on and I was ready. 

 

Finally, I put on a pair of athletic shorts, a sports halter under a thin cotton top and a pair of ankle socks with workout shoes.  There was no way I was going to dress up for this---it just seemed right to dress down my first day.  I debated for a moment about whether or not I should put in the anal device, finally deciding to leave it out.  I tucked my nipple chain under the sports bra and put my slave collar on last.  The shining black leather clashed a little with my outfit, but I thought to myself, “What the hell!”

 

I’d been left with no personal possessions after my kidnapping other than the sexy black dress I’d been wearing when taken by the men, so leaving the room unlocked as I went to eat presented no problems. 

 

Following his directions, I had no difficulty locating the small nook which had apparently been set for me several hours ago.  As soon as I sat down, a young Hispanic girl came up and offered me coffee and asked what I wanted for breakfast.  Ordering a small two-egg cheese omelet and dry toast, I ate about half and was full. 

 

Almost as if on command, as I lowered my fork for the last time Georges appeared and offered to show me ‘The Master’s’ house.  Thanking him, I stood up and followed him out into the main area.  It took over half an hour for him to show me everything, and even then, we only covered about half of the dwelling---one half was pretty much open to my explorations, but the other half was totally closed off to me.  It was made abundantly clear by Georges it would forever be off-limits to my investigations. 

 

My new Master’s house was huge.  It had a small, well-lit workout room lying immediately off of my bedroom.  The room had walls lined with mirrors and contained numerous workout machines along with a complete set of weights. 

 

There was a young man already in the room, but he wasn’t working out.  As soon as we walked in, he jumped up and gave me a slight bow.  Georges explained that this was the workout attendant and he was at my service any time I wished to use the room.  I knew I would spend as much time here as was allowed; it would be my escape from a new world over which I had little or no control. 

 

There was another light, airy room off of mine which contained a low, wide padded couch or bed along with a couple of mats.  This Georges referred to as my ‘play’ room.  Next to this was a room in which videos and movies could be shown.

 

There was a large library/den combination done in dark wood which must have had a thousand or more books in it.  This room contained a large stone fireplace that looked like it would be the center of the household in the winter when it had a fire in it---it was definitely a room that had been decorated for or by a man.  The maid cleaning and dusting the books ignored our presence.

 

There was another small room in which there were chairs similar to what would be found in a beauty shop and a professional-looking massage table.  There was another young smiling Hispanic girl here and Georges informed me I was expected here in another hour to get my hair done and to be given a full-body waxing. 

 

There was a large dining room with the center taken up by a large table that could seat at least twelve comfortably.  The walls were covered by expensive looking wallpaper, drapes and two large antique rugs.  The kitchen was a large room, painted and tiled in white and light yellow.  It contained a lot of professional looking equipment used in the preparation of food for large numbers of people at one time. 

 

Going downstairs to the first of the subterranean levels, I shuddered as Georges showed me how to get to the game room; this was where I had wound up entertaining so many men last night, and it would always hold these memories for me.  The room was now clean of anything that might have reminded me of last night’s activities.  Nonetheless, I knew that I would never again enter this room voluntarily.

 

Finally, he took me to another short, but solid wooden door set into the stone wall of the building’s foundations.  The thick wooden door was locked and when Georges opened it with another large key, an unpleasant odor carried on cool moist air immediately hit my nostrils. 

 

Georges looked at me and shook his head, saying, “I hope you never have to visit this room.” 

 

Leading me in, even before he’d found the light switch and turned on the lights, I knew there was or at least had been a lot of pain in this room.  My skin was prickling with goose bumps and the hackles on the back of my neck were trying to rise. 

 

When the lights were finally on, I could see that it was an extremely large, almost dungeon-like affair.  The vast space was poorly lit and its walls were made of well-fitted stone, as was the floor.  The ceiling looked like it was at least ten feet high and there were several sets of pulleys set in the ceiling above what looked like pits of various types.  There were also several drains in the floor and nearby faucets from which to run hoses.

 

There were numerous kinds of large equipment here, all of it designed for one thing---to bring pain to the human body.  Full-sized, wooden H and T and X frames designed to immobilize the body in various positions were located in the center, while there were multiple types of shackles on the walls.  There were wooden and stainless steel racks of equipment; objects designed specifically to cause injury to the body including pincers, pliers, whips, canes, steel needles of various sizes and branding irons.  Presses and nailed boxes for the foot, the hand and the penis; clamps for the breast and for the nipple, and finally, for the face---all were neatly arranged side by side.  There were leather discipline helmets and hoods of various designs and uses, all neatly hanging on the wall and each was accompanied by matching sets of wide leather ankle and wrist restraints.  There were leather restraining straps which wrapped around the body, specifically made for binding arms and legs.  On the far end, part of the wall contained a small rack of metal handcuffs and sets of chains that were used to bind a prisoner in various positions.  And finally, sitting among large electrical leads, there were numerous items that brought machine pain or electro-love.

 

On another wall there were objects d’amour, designed to show affection to the appointed one in both pleasant and not-so-pleasant ways.  Here there were various types and sizes of gags, dildos and vibrators; there were chains and rods of anal balls of various size and length; there were feather dusters and single long peacock feathers arranged among masks that would not look out of place during the Mardi gras. 

 

I looked at Georges and shuddered.  He nodded his head in agreement and said, “The Master doesn’t like to use this room, but he has men trained in these arts if needed.”  Turning on his heel, he led me out of the chamber and locked it behind them.

 

Pointing to another door, Georges said, “That leads to the next level down and to storage rooms and the docks.  You do not need to see the boats at this at this time.” 

 

With this, he led me back upstairs to the room in which I had my beauty appointment.  There, he left me with a nod of his head. 

 

Hesitantly, I walked in and looked at the same young woman still patiently waiting there.  This girl smiled and pointed at the massage table.  Apparently, I was to get my waxing first.  Never having had one before, but having talked with friends that had, I basically knew what to expect.  My legs and armpits were painful, but the worst was my crotch and rear-end.  The smiling girl left a thin strip of pubic hair just above my still tender clitoris and everything else was removed.

 

From here I was led naked and tingling to a beauty salon chair.  After giving me a towel for a wrap, the same girl trimmed my ends and then did magic with my hair.  When she was finished, I knew I hadn’t looked this good in…….oh, at least a month or so! 

 

Getting dressed again, I wandered out and finally arrived at the kitchen where I saw Georges drinking a cup of tea.  Gathering my courage to sit down next to him, I gazed into his eyes and began to question him. 

 

“So,” I asked, “who are you?” 

 

“I,” after looking at me for a moment, he replied with simple dignity, “am Georges.  I run this household for the Master.”  He glanced quickly out of the corner of his eyes at I like I was a particularly dull girl that had just asked a rather stupid question.

 

“So,” I followed up, “who are the rest of the people here?”

 

Georges looked at me for a second and sighed, “You aren’t going to leave until you get some answers, are you?”

 

I didn’t say anything but just shook my head as I looked at him.

 

“You are such a young girl in so many ways.  Okay,” he said with a tone of resignation tinged with exasperation, “I’ll try to explain a few things about what goes on here.”

 

“Your Master has owned this house for many years now.  He owns much land around here and the people respect him; things are much better than before and they love him for what he does for them.  Many people from nearby work here—they’re…servants….for want of a better word.  They’ve all worked here since they were quite young, or their parents did.  He sends these young people out into the world and pays for their training.  He then brings them back here so that they can be with their families.  Because of this, their loyalty to him is beyond question.”

 

“You on the other hand,” he looked at me impassively, “belong to the Master as does this chair or that table, or the easily replaced vehicle we have in the garage.  We do not judge him in this, he just….is.”

 

“There have been many before you,” he continued, then stopped as he looked at me with no expression on his face, “And I assume there will be many after you.  I….try not to get to know the ones like you too well, as it makes my life more difficult.  However, make no mistake.  Even if I am not the Master’s property as you are, I am still the Master’s creature.  Do not mistake me for one who can be corrupted.”

 

I listened to Georges and felt remarkably calm for it was much as I had suspected.  From my last day on the boat to my trip here last night and my time in the game room, I’d been surrounded by men who always had a higher loyalty to my new Master. 

 

Oddly, I felt an inner peace now as I talked with Georges because I’d finally resigned myself to being a man’s chattel, his property.  Georges had confirmed my status and let me know that while there would be people around all the time, they would be of no help to me should I ever try to escape.

 

He looked at me, “Would you like to see the grounds?”

 

“Aren’t you afraid,” I asked, “that I might try to escape if I’m let outside?”

 

He shrugged his shoulders, “You won’t be able to get one of the boats to run, so you can’t escape by water.  You are literally tens of miles from anyplace that might give you help.  Everyone for miles in every direction works for the Master or owes him, and they already know he’s brought in a new young blonde girl from America.  And it’s not like you do not stand out in the crowd here---what with your looks and your hair and all.  If they find you trying to run away, whoever catches you gets to keep you…..forever.”

 

“Trust me,” he said, “after seeing you, all of the young men here would be on the lookout for you.  You would do better to cut your wrists than to chance that.  And there are still many full-blooded Indians here.  Trust me on this…you do not want to fall into their hands.  And the Master would allow it if you ran.”

 

With this, they both walked out through the kitchen door onto the manicured and landscaped lawn.  The lawn was huge, and completely surrounded the massive house.  The closest trees were over a hundred meters distant, and even there, the touch of my Master’s servants was obvious.  From there, they walked for over half an hour looking at various fountains and other pieces of garden art.

 

Georges finally now turned and looked at me full in the face.  “You will be meeting your Master for dinner tonight.  You will want to take a nap and then do your best to prepare for him.  This will definitely please him.  Now go, and ask no more questions.”

 

Leaving him, I finally found my way back to my bedroom where I was able to sleep after lying in my bed for half an hour.  I woke from my nap and saw I had two hours before I was expected at dinner to meet my new Master for the first time. 

 

Time passed slowly, but finally, I was ready.  I thought about yesterday and how much time I’d spent on my makeup to prepare to meet him.  This time I’d chosen a different tack; this time I’d dressed simply for my first evening with my new Master.  A sheer white blouse with a plunging neckline, no bra underneath, a short chiffon cocktail length skirt in a light print, wide belt, skin-tone stockings that exhibited my long, shapely legs to the best advantage and which were held up by a white lace garter belt and strappy white sandals with four inch stiletto heels.  My only decorations were my leather collar, a pair of silver hoop earrings I’d found on the dresser and the loop of my nipple chain exposed between my cleavage.

I had not bothered to gather up my hair, but allowed the silky blonde strands to fall loosely.  I had applied the lightest possible makeup around my eyes, so nothing would detract from their feline greenness.  Only my lips were more heavily touched up than usual with soft crimson rouge gloss, making them appear moister and fuller.  

Considering what I had gone through last night, I was pleased to see how I looked in the mirror.  Oddly, I especially noted how high and firm my braless breasts looked—this was not something I normally worried about.  Too, my complexion looked flawless; I guess there was one thing to be said about a teenager’s raging hormones being tamed by a diet of continuous sex.  Although I didn’t feel this way on the inside, I knew that to everyone else I looked cool, flawless and devastatingly attractive on the outside.

 

Escorted by Georges, I entered the study.  The lights were on very low and a large man stood by the fireplace mantle.  It was not a cold night, but good sized pieces of wood were burning in the fireplace; the light from the fire and the lighting was such that the man stood in dark shadow. 

 

He wore a light open shirt and slacks, and was holding what looked like a snifter of some liquor and appeared to be staring into the fire.  Upon my entrance, he turned slightly to look at me.  This move brought his face slightly more into the light and I was able to see something that seemed familiar. 

 

As I was escorted closer by Georges, my new Master moved into even more into the light and I felt my knees go weak as I recognized the ruined side of Bossman’s face.  Bossman, my new Master?

 

I didn’t know what to say.  I was so tired of being used as a pawn by men, so tired of being treated like a mindless animal, so tired of thinking I knew what was going on when really I was being set up for some additional humiliation which was supposed to teach me something about myself or a new life lesson. 

 

Finally, I was able to unlock my mouth. 

 

“Oh God,” I stammered like a small child.  “I didn’t expect you.  If it had to be someone, I wanted it to be you.  But I didn’t expect it to be you.” 

 

He looked at me impassively, wordlessly for a moment, and then he rumbled, “Thank you Georges, you may go.” 

 

He continued looking at me for a moment further and then replied, “I wasn’t sure whether or not you were worth keeping.  You played games right up to the very end.  That’s why you were……‘tested’ last night.  I had to know for sure if you’ve finally given in to what you know is your new life; if you’ve finally accepted that which you have been fated from the time you were born.”

 

I started to reply and he said sharply, “Silence!”

 

I immediately shut up and assumed my position of obedience.  It was then I realized I had not assumed this position when I had first seen him. 

 

Master looked at me for a moment longer, and then he asked, “Are you willing to be here now or will I need to worry about you running away all the time?  You know why you’re here and you know what I expect from you---so do you accept what you are now?  Do you truly submit to your new life?  Think it through and answer carefully.  This is your last chance.”

 

I was looking down as I had been trained, but when I looked up at his question, my eyes sparkled with unshed tears and all I could do was nod my head yes and say in a child-like voice, “I’ll stay…I’m yours……I’ll do whatever you wish.”

 

Nodding his head, he said, “Come with me.”  Bossman led me from the study to the dining room where two places were set on the table.  Georges had supervised setting the meal on a side table and was waiting for us.  Master sat down at the head of the table and looked at me.  As I began a move towards the other place setting, he stopped me. 

 

“You,” he explained, “are not the same as the rest of the staff here.  You are in an odd position.  You are less than them……and more.  Don’t make this mistake again---assuming what your place is always here.  Here---while dining---you will serve me and after I am happy, you will serve yourself.  You may make requests of the maid, but never make the mistake of believing you are on a higher level than her.”

 

“A piece of advice….treat these people well, for they can make your life hell if they wish.  However,” and here he looked meaningfully at Georges, “if any of them go out of their way to make you miserable, they too will answer to me.  I assume Georges showed you our little below-ground ‘amusement’ room?”

 

Upon my nod, he continued, “You belong to me now, and all that that implies.  There actually was a client whom had purchased you.  However, I have informed him today that I will be replacing you with another equally serviceable young girl within the week---she will be American of course.  Assuming you are now honest with us and yourself, I could not find it in myself to pass you along---at least not yet.  The timing of your departure from our little family here depends entirely upon you.  It is in your best interest to do your best to please me.”

 

“Is there anything you don’t understand?” he asked me.

 

“No, Master.” 

 

“And one final thing, M.  Dress appropriately from now on when you are with me.  Georges will help you in that category.  Should you need additional clothing, just let him know.”

 

And with that, I began my new life with him.  I served him his meal, waiting upon his every desire.  At the end, he allowed me to eat a little as he sat and watched. 

 

Finally we were finished and I went back to my room to dress for him.  I met him two hours later and we walked, he leading by a step and me carefully following behind, one step to his right, back into the study.  He approached the fire which had by now burned down slightly and again gazed into the flames.  I stood next to him, not knowing what to do.

Moving to stand in back of me as I looked into the fire, he gently laid his hands on my shoulders.  I felt my stomach flutter as if a small hummingbird were trapped there.  He leaned in and I could feel his face as he first sniffed my neck and then kissed me lightly below the ear.  I knew he didn’t kiss me for me, but rather to confirm to himself he had taken possession of a new toy.  With his hands, he slowly turned me around until I faced him.

He reached down to stroke the inside of my forearm and I shivered.  Nervous anticipation twirled in my stomach.  His fingertips tickled the inside of my elbow.  I looked back as my gaze swept over his face, taking in the line of jaw, the tendons on his neck, the dark shadow on his chin.  He swiveled to face me, his pupils were dilated and I could smell his excitement.  

Unbidden, despite still being sore from what had happened just last night, heat ignited in the pit of my stomach and radiated down.

He smiled softly, got up and led me to his bedroom.  When we got there, he tossed me on the bed and then headed to the bar to mix himself a drink.  He didn’t ask what I wanted and made me no offer.  Instead, he made a show of unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off, making sure I had a good view of his amazingly muscled back.  

Slowly, he approached the bed and joined me on it.  As his lips moved down my neck, I couldn’t help myself---I twisted my face, nuzzling his neck and inhaling the musky smell of him.  I moved to the hollow in his collarbone and felt his heartbeat leap.

He kissed me and I could feel the heat from his body, so familiar from my dreams that I could almost drown in it.  The rich scent of him wafted through my brain, as intoxicating as peyote smoke.  I moved back a little and he pushed me against the headboard, his hands sliding to my hips and gripping hard.  His lips went back to mine, our kisses deepening.

Suddenly, I felt him pull my hands in back of me and then they levered up towards the back of my head.  The move forced me off the bed and onto my feet.  My stilettos were unstable and as he kept pulling on the line, he forced me off of my feet and onto my knees.  I still hated not being able to move and tried to pull my wrists down, but he held them tight.  

I felt him moving and suddenly I was tied to the ceiling by thin soft ropes.  I jerked my arms, but they only moved a couple of inches before the bonds on my wrist snapped tight.  I felt a brief flare of resistance to my situation, but knew suddenly it was from the old me and I fought it down.

Once I was secured, he walked around and knelt over me, obviously pleased with what he was seeing.  Still smiling, he took hold of the top of my already mostly unbuttoned blouse and ripped it down the middle.  I started to say something, but stopped, inhaling sharply.  He’d suddenly taken my breast in my mouth and was teasing the pierced nipple with his teeth.  He flicked his tongue and it sprang up hard.  

His hand moved from my breast and began to stroke my stomach, moving lower with a planned, frustrating slowness.  I had an unbidden image of his naked body over me, and the lust flared.  He shifted and I could feel his erection slide up my thigh.  I spread my legs a little and felt the roughness of his pants brush against the glossy smooth stocking on my leg.  Then he pulled back.  

“Can you feel it?” he asked.  “Where do you feel it?”  

He touched the inside of my thigh, just long enough to make my heart skip.  

“Do you feel it here?”  

I still was not sure what he referred to.  He slid his hands further down my nylons to the inside of my knee, tracing the path of the chills coursing through me.  

“Can you feel it?” he asked, his face coming closer to mine.  

I started to close my eyes.  Life can be so strange at times.  I had gone through something awful last night, I could have even died.  That kind of event makes a person thirst for life and all its basics: a comfortable meal, the breeze of our own breath in our lungs…….the warm press of human flesh.  

“Don’t,” he said.  “Watch me.”

I opened my eyes and watched him, unable to avert my gaze as I licked my suddenly dry lips.  I wanted to kiss him, with heat.  Despite the aches in my body.  

Under my skirt, his fingers slowly traced back up my nylon-clad thigh.  He reached the very top of my thigh and toyed with me for a moment.  He gently massaged my clitoris and as I felt myself begin to wet, he then plunged his fingers into me.  I let out several gasps, the first one of surprise since I was still a little sore there.  The later ones were of pure pleasure.  

His fingers moved inside of me, finding the center of my excitement.  He too knew that spot inside my vagina and he began massaging it at the same time he manipulated my clit.  It was such an intense basket of feelings, I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out.  Just as I could feel the waves of climax building to appoint where it would consume me, my brain kicked in and I realized what I was doing.  I closed my eyes tight and once more jerked my arms hard against their bindings.  

The metallic whir of a zipper cut through the night air.  My eyes flew open to see him pulling his pants down over his hips.  As I saw the hunger in his eyes and his body, my hips moved up unbidden to meet him.  He was just as I had remembered from a month ago.  Massive, inhumanly large and ready for me again.  

I shook my head sharply, trying to clear it.  I twisted away.  He bent down, his face coming to mine.  

“I won’t force you this time.  All you have to do is tell me no.”  

He waited a moment.  “Tell me to stop.  Tell me to untie you.  I will.”  

His hand slipped between my thighs, parting them before I could clench them shut.  Heat and wetness rushed out to meet him, my body betraying me.  I felt the tip of him against me, but he didn’t go any further.  

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered.  “Just tell me.”  

I looked at him, but the words wouldn’t come to my lips.  It wasn’t because I knew he would sell me again if did tell him this.  It was because I didn’t want to say them.  

Then he grabbed me under the arms and lifted my helpless body up for a second---before pushing into me.  My body convulsed and while I couldn’t do anything with my arms, I could, and did, wrap my legs around his waist.  For one long second, he didn’t move.  I could feel him inside me; oh God, could I feel him as his hips pressed against me. 

 He pulled back slowly then and my body protested, moving involuntarily against him as best it could, trying to keep him inside.  I felt his arms go over my head.  My bindings jerked once, then parted in his hands.  Now he thrust fully into me and my resistance snapped.  I grabbed him, my hands entwining in his hair, my legs locked and crushing his waist. 

Standing slowly with me impaled upon him, my Master walked to the bed and lowered me upon it.  Gently pushing me away from him, he stood again.  I held my arms out to him as my hips ached to be pressed against him when he filled me.  But, after a moment, the heat began to cool and I closed my eyes in frustration.

 

“Lie back…….this might take a while.”  Master lay down beside me and urged me to my knees; now he drew me down on his groin.  He watched intensely as I pulled up my tiny skirt just a little and settled down on top of him.  I began to move, trying to react to him as I thought he might want, but he slowed me down.  “Not yet,” he scolded me, pressing his hand between my legs just above my knee.  “Take your time.”

 

 

For him, this wasn’t about release.  This woman was already his, there was no mystery left in that matter.  It was about suspense---the sweet anticipation inherent in fine lingerie, the scent of chocolate with raspberries, an ice cube melting.  He well understood the poetry of foreplay, how to bait a woman into willingly giving him that which she had not planned to do.  How to make a woman desire senseless indenture over temporary freedom.

 

Besides, with this one, this young girl barely out of high school, as long as he did it carefully, it really would be easy to continue leading her, to further train her into offering him her loyalty even as he steadfastly gave her to other rooms filled with strange men.  She would voluntarily do these terrible things for him, she needed to this for him, for this was a young woman who now suffered with a full-blown attachment disorder. 

 

Shortly after being broken and trained, it had first manifested itself in the inability on her part to form any real lasting relationships with any the people around her, even with other women in a similar situation as she.  Of course, it was frowned on a woman in her position doing this anyway, but for her it would have brought no additional difficulties, would have caused her no additional more distress or pain. 

 

Women like her, in fact almost all females in this position, to one extent or another, typically pushed everyone away around them emotionally.  They did this because the extreme emotional and psychological stress they had undergone almost ensured they would eventually fixate on one person as their savior. 

 

In the case of this young girl, as he had hoped and planned from the very beginning, from her first moment on the boat, she had fixated on him.  She had become obsessed with him because, despite the differences in power in their relationship, in some ways she saw him as mirroring parts of her personality.  To keep her sanity, she had created a mental filter which only allowed through what she saw as the better parts of him.  How this could happen despite all things that had been done to her either by him, or by his men at his direction, seemed almost to smack of black magic—the hoodoo of the islands. 

 

Even more important though, the only way to truly control a woman like this was to give her the connections she craved—but with what she saw as honesty and sincerity.  Only in this way could she believe in her love for him.  Lie in an obvious way to one as smart as this—she’d know it in a heartbeat. 

 

 

Still impaled, I leaned forward on him and slowly began removing the wreckage of my blouse.  Suddenly, even though his slave, I felt like I needed to take risks—possibly terrible risks.  I leaned further forward and pressed my naked skin against his chest. “What do you think about when you’re all alone in your big house?  Master?”

 

“I think you know.”

 

“Tell me,” I demanded, grabbing his hands and using them to cup my breasts.

 

“You are starting to play games with me again……” he rumbled back at me.

 

“Tell me that you think about this.”  As I continued down this dangerous path, I knew that I was teasing him, taunting him, but I couldn’t help myself.  I lifted myself onto my knees and pulled my skirt high enough for him to see how my thighs looked where my stockings ended. 

 

“Tell me what you’d have me do?”  I pulled his hand up between my thighs, capturing it between the firm flesh there, just to show him that finally, I too was ready. 

 

He pulled his hand from between my legs and pushed me onto my back.  I pouted as his erection pulled free.  It happened so quickly that I was almost frightened by the speed with which he’d moved.  I lay there on the bed in front of him with my blouse off, my skirt up around my mid-thighs and my legs spread, missing the meat I’d had just a second ago.  He moved until he was between my legs and he slowly put his hands on the insides of my knees and pushed them further apart, then he slid my skirt up around my waist. 

 

 

Lowering his head, he slowly began to suck on M’s clit.  She was moist and hot, and the smell her vagina was amazingly erotic.  He’d thought about this moment since the last time that he’d taken her.  After a moment in which he struggled to find it, he captured her clitoris with his teeth and tortured the captive slave girl for a moment, before he grabbed it between his lips and just tugged on it. 

 

He looked up in time to hear M’s breath hiss in and watch her close her eyes, and then throw her head back and to the right.  He whispered to himself, “Salty candy.  Nothing but salty candy.” 

 

Wolf continued his assault on her vagina with his mouth and M responded willingly, enthusiastically, to every move he made.  When he finally brought a vibrator into play, she actually whined in anticipation as she waited for him.

 

Moving up, he gentled his mouth, sucking at her breast, feeling her relax and then nipping her again, pinching her nipple between his teeth and hearing her moan in anguished pleasure.  His hand moved back into the warm wetness between her legs, to explore her there as his mouth applied the exquisite torture to her breast.  His fingertips parted, probed, hunted, and found---invaded and stroked---and her hips arched, desperately begging for more.

 

 

And so he gave her more.  Her vagina was becoming extremely moist and productive.  She was so wet now it almost seemed as if she was letting down buckets of melted love.  Victoria felt him eventually spread her lips with his fingers in order to enter her---he didn’t need a lubricant since her vaginal flow was now so heavy she was constantly excreting a thick pearly, almost clear fluid.  An overpoweringly strong musky smell emanated from between her legs like waves of heat off of a hot country road; nature had specifically designed a woman like her to ensure men found her irresistible.

 

His first move was to slowly go to almost his maximum depth inside her; she shuddered once, not realizing he had not yet completely sheathed himself in her.  After he’d held himself motionless for half a minute, he started to work her body.  He took his time and it went on and on, until she was uncontrollable beneath him.  Finally he felt her whole body hold on to him; her arms grabbed him around his back, her legs wrapped around his waist and her vagina clamped onto his cock.

 

 

I couldn’t help myself; I was still sore enough that I felt myself make an involuntary face as he slowly spread me apart for his first entrance.  I focused on his face as I felt him position himself high on my belly and hips so that his every move, in or out, rubbed the top of his erection against my clitoris.  The rigid veins on his great Nubian cock stood out in stark relief against his black skin and felt like huge knobs which had been put on this earth for just my pleasure.

 

As wet as I was for him, I was afraid I was still too sore from last night to be able to be able to adequately respond.  It felt like he was putting a spike through my heart.  His first move to slowly impale me showed his instinctive mastery of my body; I felt helpless and totally vulnerable to him. 

 

My pussy literally physically ached as his massive cock over-filled the walls of my vagina; my clit was still intensely sensitive, almost super-sensitive to his every movement and my labia and the walls of my vagina screamed their tenderness with every move he made. 

 

It all felt wonderful!! 

 

He knew the time had come.  He could fill her as she lay on her back; make her cry out for mercy, the mercy he didn’t feel for her or any other woman.  But now he had a goal….he needed to be able to go deeper inside her….much, much deeper. 

 

He needed to position her to receive his gift of total domination; pose her in exactly right way to ensure that he took away the last vestiges of her freedom, of her ability to think for herself. 

 

His next move was to raise himself off of her chest and hook his hands behind her knees.  As he raised himself up, he brought her legs up around and against him and pulled the backs of her knees into his chest so that her legs were now locked straight and immovable. 

 

This nineteen-year old girl was young enough to be his grand-daughter.  Yet here she was, as physically beautiful as she would ever be, approaching her sexual maturity, and his cock was buried in her belly up to his nutsack.  He had spread her legs and gently opened her like one would the most fragile flower; her lush womanly fragrance had immediately spread throughout the room and made him even harder if that were possible.  His fingertips slowly ran along her long, stockinged legs, mesmerizing him with the silky feel of nylon covered flesh---the backs of her thighs soft, yet firm, like velvet covered steel.  The hard, knotted muscles of her calves, kept in that state by the high-heels she still had on feet, with the soles pointing towards the ceiling. 

 

Her heels were now up by his shoulders, but at the same time he leaned forward onto her and kept his weight on her hips as he pushed her straightened legs back towards her chest.  She was pinned beneath him like a helpless young doe.  The act of locking her legs and raising her hips into the air even as she was impaled by him, now allowed him to physically penetrate her to the very tip of her femininity and even deeper if he so desired---the great blunt purple/black head of his steel hard erection now rested at the very uppermost tip of her vagina and pushed hard against her cervix. 

 

It was a position he’d perfected with numerous other women he’d enslaved in the past. 

 

 

Victoria knew she was powerless before him.  He grimly continued to drive into her, relentlessly working her body until she was finally reacting helplessly to his unending and unforgiving patience.  Then he lifted her legs against his chest and bore down even more on her hips, penetrating her deeper than any man before him.  He was so deep inside her now that his presence hurt.  And even though the pain felt good in an odd way, she was still thankful he knew exactly how deep to penetrate before he caused her too much pain.  In this, he gave her great satisfaction, but not the full-blown anguish that she feared from his moves for she was totally dependent upon his humanity in this single kindness. 

 

Finally, she began to cum.  The walls of her vagina were clamped around his great penis in a way that let him know exactly how wonderful was the pleasure he’d given her.  And at that exact moment of orgasm, as has occurred to all women throughout time even though she was already pregnant, her cervix spasmed in preparation of receiving his sperm. 

 

He kept his cock fully buried in her, pushing at the end until there was that final physical resistance to him in her body over which even she had no control---he could literally go no deeper into her.  But with her in this position, he still had shaft yet to spare for his victim; there was iron-fleshed tool still dry and as yet unused, poised and eagerly waiting to assert its mastery over her. 

 

He continued pushing though and pinned her body, piercing this naïve girl at an unimaginable depth, as he had so many women before her.  Inexperienced, taken unaware and powerless to resist, her muscles now unresponsive, M’s face showed what looked like surprise or horror as she lay immobilized beneath his hips.  He now shrugged his shoulders almost contemptuously and allowed her legs to fall slowly, nervelessly away from his chest.  They made a whispery sound as her nylons moved along his flesh of his shoulders and her legs dropped away from him and flopped to the bed. 

 

Lying on the mattress now, each of her legs landed spread far apart, the insides of her ankles and her knees and her thighs were open to the ceiling---the pregnant teenage girl could be no more exposed or defenseless if she’d tried.  But she had no thoughts as to the vulnerability of her lower body at this moment---there were almost no thoughts in her mind at all right now. 

 

To ensure that he retained his mastery of her femininity, as their relative positions had changed with him allowing her legs to fall to the mattress, he’d leaned even further into her hips to ensure he had maintained the full depth of his massive presence inside her body. 

 

She was fully pierced and she was his; he moved to ensure he kept her that way.  This one had been important to him, and despite her youth and relative inexperience, he was pleased to know she wasn’t any different than the rest of them.  He watched her body react without conscious thought, just as he had watched so many women react to this move before her. 

 

First, the teenage girl lay frozen.  As if anesthetized, left immobile and helpless, she lay beneath him; her eyes were wide open and almost bugged out as she faced the ceiling, but she didn’t blink—she saw nothing right now. 

 

The blonde girl’s mouth opened and went into a perfect ‘oh’ shape as she sharply inhaled until her lungs could hold no more.  It opened and closed several more times like that of a fish laying in the bottom of a boat. 

 

Beads of sweat appeared magically appeared on her upper lip and her forehead as her head slowly, mindlessly, began to turn from side to side.  Even as her face continued its reasonless turning from left to right and then back again, she never once blinked her bulging eyes.  

 

At the same time, she lay beneath him with her limbs splayed out in ugly helplessness, her arms and legs extended and frozen into crooked immobility.  Nothing of her moved, not her legs nor her arms, not her fingers nor her toes. 

 

 

As I lay totally frozen, paralyzed beneath him, all animation in my body became suspended as my Master prepared me for my own personal version of nirvana---and of hell.  It seemed my blood had turned into an icy solid, like my veins and arteries were filled with slow moving or even stationary glacial ice of the most profound blue color. 

 

Very little thought was going on in my head, but in the deepest corners of my mind I knew he could go no deeper into me.  It was profound and unfathomable.  He’d inflicted so much pain in me with this last act that I was paralyzed.  He’d hurt me terribly with his move, but I couldn’t even scream my pain.  All I could do was lay motionless beneath him and try to survive.  I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe.  All that remained of me was a blinding, freezing, immobilizing, all-consuming pain that began in my loins and which spread crashing throughout my body like a tidal wave.  My mind had stopped working.  My body had stopped working.  The only sound I heard was that of rushing blood in my ears.

 

 

While he hadn’t pushed all the way in like he did with the other women because this one was pregnant, Wolf called this ‘sticking’ them.  To the woman, the pain at first was excruciating.  He had no idea of what it must feel like, of what any of the bitches must be experiencing at this exact moment; but it had happened like this every time he’d done this to one of his women. 

 

He thought of his Australian beauty: about how he had taken another man’s bride on her wedding day and turned her into his willing personal sex slave; of how after he’d healed her mind, like the young girl who lay beneath him now, she’d assumed a position of frozen rigor upon his monumental penetration of her body.  And as her body had eventually thawed from his brutal thrust and when the waves of pain had finally receded inside, how she’d screamed her desire for him and her undying love.  He thought about how at the end, he’d become her one true Master and she his true slave, and how she had willingly allowed him to do anything to her, including selling her to another, because she knew that this was what he wanted, that this was what would please him.

 

He thought back to the gorgeous German girl that he’d taken directly from her father in the Dominican Republic---how his massive piercing of her body like this had first penetrated the young woman to her heart and transfixed her, how it had turned her Teutonic blood to sleet in her veins as she froze solid beneath his hips and belly.  He thought of how her hips had slowly begun moving under him again as her blood had eventually melted from its icy state and how in the end she had become one of the hottest, most submissive and truly sexually dependent pleasure slaves it had ever been his fortune to possess.  And, as with the others, it seemed her personality had been totally changed after he’d stuck her like this. 

 

He knew too what it did to all of them subsequently, how they all had always reacted after being stuck.  How, in conjunction with the drugs and, coming at the end of everything else he’d put them through, it changed them, seemingly forever.  Every one of them had wound up being totally enslaved mentally, emotionally and physically after he’d manipulated them this way. 

 

He slowly relaxed on M’s body as a feeling of satisfaction came over him.  His giant erection withdrew slightly from the enemy territory it had conquered, but there was no doubt who was king here. 

 

 

I lay as if stunned beneath him and felt myself controlled by a precisely measured move which, even if I understood it, still kept all of its…..wonderful effectiveness.  I couldn’t move---I didn’t dare move because if I did, I knew I would surely die and spin into heaven in two separate pieces, my body wonderfully/horribly broken in two at the waist.  I didn’t know what I felt, all I could do was endure.  I later found out that he routinely did this to all of the female slaves he eventually kept.  But it did not matter to me, for I already knew where my future lay. 

 

After about forty-five seconds---or forty-five years, the pain had washed throughout my body.  It had reached my toes and fingers at its ultimate extent, as if it had reached barriers somewhere that wouldn’t allow it to depart my body.  It now crashed back to the exact spot where it began, and as the waves of pain coming back met at their source, it seemed they began to cancel each other out.  I sensed that my agony was finally beginning to decrease a little---or perhaps I was getting used to the pain.  It was the exquisite agony, something wondrous and awful, all at the same time. 

 

As the beautiful pain began to recede, I felt some small bit of life begin to return to my body again as I lay under his hips.  Now, as with all of the others before me, it started slowly with my eyelids and fingers and arms, eventually spreading to my toes and feet, and eventually my trunk.  First I felt my eyelids flutter once.  And then my eyelids fluttered again, and finally I was able to blink.  I’d always been aware of the full weight of his body on mine, but my vision had actually failed momentarily. 

 

I now could begin to move a little beneath him; and then I could move even more as my body came back to life.  Finally I was able to exhale a little to make a small sound, but all I could do was say, “Oooooooooooh myyyy Gggoddddddd!” as I breathed out the used air built up in my lungs. 

 

The overall blindingly wonderful pain between my legs and inside my abdomen continued to slowly recede and I was able to move even a little more.  It was then that I felt the heat begin in my loins as a small gentle blaze, which within seconds had exploded into an out-of-control wildfire. 

 

The pain was suddenly gone and all I could say a second time was “Oooooooooooh Goddddddd!”  I couldn’t control myself.  It was unlike anything I’d ever experienced---my arms and legs felt as if they’d been thawed for the first time in my life and were free to move now, and they moved almost with a mind of their own around and over and on him. 

 

But my hips were still frozen in place by the steel-like bar of his flesh which was buried so impossibly and still incredibly deep inside my belly.  My skirt was rumpled up around my waist; and as that had been ground between us as he moved on me, it kept me in touch with the more normal sensations of my skin and my body. 

 

Finally, the burgeoning fire in my loins began to thaw the black ice in my frozen belly, melting me to the point where I could begin to move again despite the ache his firmly buried cock was still causing.  Once I started to move in response to his massive presence, I knew there was no way that I could stop myself; there was no way I wanted to stop myself.  I knew I’d finally become for him exactly that which I’d swore I would never be for any man. 

 

I heard my voice and I lusted, I heard an enthralled teenage girl begging this adult man for more of his cock, for yet deeper and harder penetrations by him.  Even though I knew he would hurt me even more if he responded, I found myself grabbing him and pulling on him to get him closer to me, to get him deeper inside me.  I was mesmerized.  At that moment, there were no limits to the slut/whore/cuntdom that I wouldn’t go to get what I needed from him now.

 

 

After about a minute or so, again like the others before her, M was finally able to claim everything he had to give her.  Sweat was pouring off of her now just like all of his previous conquests; and like the others too, she was making frenzied, whimpering claims on every part of his body.  His face impassive in total victory, he gave her what she demanded, and more than which she even knew to ask.  But still, he always watched from afar as she approached, achieved and went past a second, impossibly higher and even more intense orgasm.  He lay upon her sweaty belly and watched almost impassively as her arms and legs were thrust akimbo, moving in an almost mindless fashion, just reacting to his dreadfully deep presence inside her. 

 

The kidnapped blonde teenager screamed and cried; she clawed at his Nubian shoulders, back and buttocks.  Her legs intertwined with his and then untwined to wrap around his waist again.  But this time, in the throes of a truly mindless passion, she squeezed him with her thighs locked around his waist until even a man as strong as he found it hard to breathe. 

 

He was making long, smooth, slamming thrusts into M’s belly now, not trying to protect her, not trying to keep anything from her or himself.  His cock now was wet to the hilt with her juices as he ensured time after time that she enjoyed; no, that she was punished with every inch he had to give her.  M was throwing her head back and forth in a manic frenzy of physical desire, babbling her love and her lust for him. 

 

He kept pushing into her and she kept pushing him higher and higher, begging for more and more, when suddenly he began to cum.  As he ejaculated, it seemed she had been filled to the top with his scalding hot semen as he came and came and came.  And as he was cumming, her desire seemed to somehow reach an impossible crescendo which lasted about thirty seconds, after which she literally collapsed beneath him.  She was drenched in her own sweat, sucking great heaving lungful’s of air, even as he remained calm and controlled above her.

 

 

And finally, I had gotten what I needed from him.  After a moment he rolled off of me.  I lay there beside him breathing heavily and then I shivered slightly as the sweat on my pierced chest began to dry.  My shattered mind was flying a million miles a minute---every trace of my previous pain was gone--I felt so good right now.  I tingled all over my body and I felt a general, wonderful sense of well-being.  A gentle feeling of warmth seemed to be suffusing into every aching muscle and joint and I was experiencing an almost religiously profound feeling of pleasure.  I stretched luxuriously and turned to look at Bossman with adulation.

 

I now know instinctively that my capitulation to him a month ago had only been the beginning and that all of my vows and tricks and games since then had been as the act of a small child to its parent.  He was truly my Master and he owned me totally---he owned me body and soul.  I knew it now, and I knew he knew it too. 

 

I was nothing but a creature of his will; his pleasure slut and his whore.  I worshipped him.  He owned every inch of my flesh and every hole in my body, and I was willing to do anything he desired in order to bring the smallest pleasure to his day.  I wanted nothing more than to belong to him---forever.

 

We lay there on his bed, drenched in sweat, chests heaving to replenish oxygen used just moments ago.  Neither of us spoke for several minutes, but finally he turned on his side and just looked at me. 

 

I looked back at him and smiled as I said, “What?”

 

I reached out to touch the fanciful part of his face and he pulled back as he said, “Don’t.” 

 

I froze for a second, then pulled my hand back and just stared at the ceiling.  This impasse continued for several minutes until it began to get uncomfortable for me.  I had to know.  Finally, I again turned to look at him and asked, “Master, what happens to me now?”

 

After a moment’s hesitation, he replied, “You belong here….to me.  You are the prize, you’ve always been the prize.  More than that, I can’t say right now.”

 

For me, even though I wasn’t sure what that meant, it had to be good enough.  I knew what my fate was now, and in some ways I was not only glad, but happy that it had happened to me.  I had traded in a freedom I had never understood or appreciated, for happiness I felt now and the chance to discover the true me. 

 

What more can a teenage girl ask than that?

 

My skirt was still bunched up around my waist and uncomfortable, so after looking at Master for permission, I eased it off but left everything else on.  We lay in bed for thirty minutes when suddenly Master got up on his elbow to look at me.  He then reached over to the side of his bed and picked up a tube of lubricant, telling me to put it on him.  After I had lavishly applied the lubricant on him, without any hesitation or subtlety, he said, “Roll over, I’m going to take you again.”

 

 

Slowly he fucks my ass, pushing himself in and out of me.  The sensation is so intense.  I feel like my inner slut has finally been freed; and I revel in her carnal abandonment, throwing my head back while Mike rides me like an animal.

-Felicity Bandon, from The Abduction

 

Don't despair: despair suggests you are in total control and know what is coming.  You don't - surrender to events with hope.

-Alain de Botton

 

My emotional high fled.  Not sure that I had heard him correctly, I looked at him in disbelief and after a moment said, “Master, please.” 

 

I knew that everything on the boat had been leading up to something…..to this.  But he was sooo big.  “This is something that frightens me---please, I’m not yet used to it like that.  You want to take me from the rear?  Even though you know that I’m afraid that you’re so big that you’ll hurt me---forever?  It was so good for us the other way, can’t we do that again?  Please Master, don’t do this to me yet, give me time to get ready, please!”

 

My Master looked at me in the eyes and said, “We’ll do it slowly, M.  Slowly.  It is not your body I desire so much, but rather your purity and your virtuousness.  The answer to your question is……..roll over, NOW”

 

I looked at him for a moment and swallowed with difficulty.  I guess, somewhere deep inside me, I had always known it would come to this—the men taking turns with me on the boat, always wearing the increasingly bigger plugs…..  With sudden tears in my eyes and without another word rolled over onto my stomach.  I kept my chest up on my elbows and spread my legs for him. 

 

 

Bossman told her, “No.  Get up on your hands and knees.”  Having undergone all of her obedience training in the last month, he was pleased that she immediately scrambled to all fours just as he’d instructed.  On his knees too, he now moved between her spread legs and up against the back of her thighs and her ass.  He knew this would give him a little better angle on his initial penetration of her body. 

 

The bitch had been bored out to fit him and he really had no plans to go slow with her from this point on.  And what she was worried about was of no consequence, no real concern of his.  Once he had her where he wanted her—on her hands and knees, obedient in every way--his options with her would be unlimited and her choices would be exactly zero. 

 

He slowly slid his hands up the back of her thighs, finally sliding over the top of her nylons and on up to what was his ultimate goal.  When they reached her ass he slowly spread her cheeks apart and bared the puckered brown hole which had been so stretched out in preparation for this very moment.  He enjoyed running his hands over her muscular buttocks and finally he spread them wide to see his brown, puckered target; it looked good, still able to close yet abnormally enlarged and ready for him to penetrate. 

 

He was glad he’d had his men working on her from the beginning, because he’d known it would come to this from the very first minute that he’d first seen photos of this teenager.  ALL of his pleasure slaves eventually took it in the ass from him---if they couldn’t handle it there, they were quickly moved on and sold. 

 

After he played with the girl for a minute to relax her, his hands dropped between her legs again and he slowly massaged her wet pussy for a minute. 

 

 

I took another deep breath.  Oh God, I was glad that he was going slowly with this.  He was so massive that if he wasn’t patient, he would kill me, he would literally kill me.  The tip of his manhood was the size of an average apple and his shaft the size of my wrist---he was just too big for me—too big for any woman.  I was frightened that I wasn’t physically prepared for him---frightened that he would seriously hurt me as he did this; yet at the same time part of me wanted this.  At least wanted to see if I could please him this way. 

 

I tried to mentally prepare myself to do this for him.  Despite my fear, I wanted this to be successful more than anything in the world.  I…I just wanted to please him.  If at all possible, I was determined to give him the satisfaction he craved from me this way, even though I knew it would hurt me so terribly much.  I was prepared for the pain, prepared to be hurt.  And….even if it went against my upbringing and my nature, the part of me which had recently been freed, which had been released because of his training, knew it was his right now to do whatever he wanted with my body. 

 

He gently moved against the back of my thighs and I felt his hands lie softly on my hips.  Then his hands went away and I felt him pull my cheeks apart with one hand as he guided himself towards me with his other. 

 

“Just relax yourself,” he said.  “I’ll take my time with this and you will just feel pressure.  It won’t really hurt.” 

 

I closed my eyes and swallowed hard.  Even as his reassurances helped calm my fear, I took another deep prepatory breath and tried to relax my anal sphincter.  Almost immediately I could feel the tip of his penis begin to press into me, then with almost a pop just the tip slightly penetrated me.  God, he was big.  He was huge!  Having affected his first entry, all I wanted to say was waitwaitwait, but somehow I remained silent.  I was shuddering slightly as he now placed his hands on my waist, then rolled my hips around and rocked himself back and forth.  He was slowly sinking into me a little deeper with each move.  Ugghhh, ugghhh, inarticulate, garbled sounds were all I was capable of making at this point. 

 

I heard myself moan softly; God he was huge!

 

I was so glad that we were going to be deliberate and take our time.  I heard him say softly, “You mustn’t struggle.  It will help you to accept, and it will make you feel better afterwards.”

 

He continued and somehow, the bulbous tip of his penis slid without too much difficulty past my first defenses and into me, and I could feel my sphincter muscles stretch to accept him and then lock onto the groove behind his great circumcised head.  My head was bobbing up and down in small movements which helped massage the discomfort in a way which allowed me to handle it. 

 

He leaned over, grabbed my head with one hand, and as he stopped the motion he whispered in my ear, “It’s alright.  It’s alright.”

 

Although painful and exceedingly uncomfortable, the month-long efforts of his men at making me large enough to accept him were apparently successful—at least I didn’t feel like he was killing me.  At first he only moved a little, giving me only a taste of what I knew must be coming.  But even this little made my cry out loud in extreme discomfort.  God, slowly!  Please, slowly!  The pain at this point was suddenly a sharp, yet dull ache, all accompanied by a tremendous feeling of fullness and my flesh being stretched to the point that it must tear. 

 

Oh God, he was so big! 

 

He whispered to me again, “See.  It’s just pressure, it’s not pain. Not really.  Take a deep breath, breathe deeply.  It doesn’t hurt at all.  Say that, it really doesn’t hurt.  Your pain is going away, isn’t it?  Do you feel it leaving?  Can you?”

 

He touched me, my clit, and I shuddered as he continued, “See how warm my hand is, doesn’t that feel good?  Doesn’t that make it all better?  It’s just pressure, and I’m not hurting you….that’s it…..that’s it……

 

He was still upright on his knees and his knees were inside of mine, continually forcing my thighs even further apart.  He was behind me…his body touching the backs of my thighs and leaning slightly over me….his hands were both on my hips now and they clenched my flesh painfully.  Then he began to move his hips and enter me even more fully---thankfully he still took his time. 

 

 

He looked down at her, feeling an eager anticipation.  He could see her long blonde hair hanging down and covering much her face and suddenly felt the beast inside roar to life.  He felt a series of thrills run through him as the young woman’s body beneath him finally gave up any last resistance.  He wanted to howl with the lust of it; the control, the complete mastery of her body as his lubricated erection suddenly began to enter her.  

 

Instead of continuing though, he stopped and just studied her.  Her body may have given him permission, but the girl herself was still struggling to accept him.  Through the fall of her hair, he could see she had her eyes closed and that her mouth hung open in pain.  She was panting slightly, as if from exertion, and tiny gasping sounds were coming out of her with each breath.  Every time he moved against her, her hair would gently sway and M’s head would rise up as if pain and she would give out another soft moan. 

 

It was amazing how something which gave him such pleasure could be so opposite to the sluts he took this way.  It truly was a pity he did not give a shit whether he hurt most of them or not.  In fact, the only reason he went so slowly with this one was to ensure that he didn’t have to tie her down every time he wanted to fuck her in the ass in the future. 

 

He was saving himself.  He looked down at M’s tiny waist and beautiful ass cheeks as they approached, yet never touched his groin as he moved.  He still had many inches to go before he was fully sheathed in this one’s ass and it took every bit of his willpower to avoid destroying her with one major thrust.

 

Her beautifully full, teenage breasts hung down and swayed with every move of his body against hers.  Her gorgeous nipples were erect, both were encased by the rings piercing them.  This look greatly turned him on.  Probably, he thought to himself, due to fear of what he was doing to her, because there wasn’t much passion here yet. 

 

But at the same time, he knew it was right that she should fear him in this, for moment, this place, was where she would determine their relationship.  He’d either damage her permanently as he had the Venezuelan police woman of long ago or turn her into his next ‘permanent’ lover.  This moment--on this night--he knew would determine her future for the next few years, determine whether or not she was worthy of keeping or was to be passed on to another, lesser owner. 

 

He was a hot blooded man of the Caribbean and the time for thinking was past.  He no longer had the patience to go slow or the desire to wait for her body to prepare to receive him with minimal pain or damage on her part.  Rather, he now reached forward and grabbed both of her elbows with his hands and then pulled back hard, forcing her upper body to collapse to the bed beneath them.  At the same time, even as she was falling to the mattress he began his first major thrust into her still tight ass with a single move of his hips. 

 

His weight was fully supported now by her hips still stuck in the air, and he rode her down like he would a cheap mule as she crumpled and her face and shoulders hit the mattress.  And as her body came to rest beneath his with a single bounce, he continued his drive into her colon by pushing hard with his hips and his thighs.  In one smooth magical move, his huge black glistening cock slickly slid between her beautiful white cheeks and completely disappeared inside her.  Luckily, the bulbous head of his erection negotiated the turn in her colon without rupturing the girl. 

 

The effect upon the teenaged bitch was immediate and electric.

 

 

I felt him hit my elbows and myself falling to the bed underneath him.  Then I couldn’t help it, I was screaming as the full length of his huge erection was rudely and unexpectedly rammed into me to the hilt.  He hit something inside me and it felt like he was about to rupture me, and then suddenly, that particular excruciating, blossom of piercing pain subsided. 

 

A part of my mind noticed his scrotum slapping me between my legs---and then, suddenly, everything else hit me---I felt like a telephone had been driven into me and I was being torn in half.  It felt like nothing I’d ever felt before.  I knew he must have torn my flesh with this initial drive into me as I lay beneath him screaming for him to stop.  Within seconds, he had muffled my screams and shrieks for mercy by pushing my face into the bedding. 

 

I don’t think he cared about what I said as much as the fact that my voice was annoying him. 

 

It was awful!  His weight was heavy upon me and he used it to keep me pinned.  He didn’t move again for almost a minute.  He just lay between my legs and upon me and kept my hips pinned beneath his while my face was pushed into the mattress. 

 

My legs were splayed wide apart and I had my hands up by my shoulders as if to do a pushup but I was helpless.  I could feel his hard thighs pushing against the back of my legs and his weighty, hard muscled body lay upon me, piercing me and keeping me from breathing. 

 

At first, I was blinded by tears running down my cheeks, but slowly, finally, it seemed that I had started to become, if not at least used to his giant presence inside me, numb to him. 

 

 

Bossman lay upon M and kept her speared with his erection as he looked at her sweaty blonde hair beneath his face.  He gloried in the feel of her beautiful tight, white ass as it clenched upon him and then let go, only to grab him again and again.  He loved the way his thighs brushed against the insides of hers and how her nylons felt against his legs as they ended at the tops of her thighs. 

 

Like a thief in the night, he gloried in the multitude of sensations he was able to take from her body; her tight asshole around his cock and her muscular buttocks erotically pushed into his groin, the backs of her nylon covered legs rubbing against the front of his thighs, her narrow waist and firm, sweaty back and soft skin beneath his belly and chest, the clean smell of her long blonde hair in his face, the strangled sobs and soft cries of pain---it all overloaded his senses. 

 

Finally, he knew that it was time to begin the dance that would decide M’s ultimate fate.  Wolf began to move his hips in a slow, yet irresistible movement that wouldn’t be denied, which could never be stopped.  M again began screaming and after a moment, he stopped again.  

 

He was pleased with her so far, because regardless of all of her screaming and obvious pain, she had never once tried to buck or throw him off of her.  Even though she was still too vocal in accepting the discomfort due her as a pleasure slut, he was glad she had finally appeared to learn to accept her new role in life.

 

 

God, he’d started pounding into me again and he wouldn’t stop.  I cried and screamed as he pulled out of me and then did the same again as he drove back into my rectum again.  Finally, after about a dozen long, deep thrusts into me, he stopped for about a minute and kept his erection buried inside me all the way again. 

 

I had my eyes closed and couldn’t see anyway because of my tears---and the worst part was that I couldn’t seem to catch my breath either.  It was as if his existence so deeply inside my body somehow prevented me from breathing---it wasn’t the pain his presence there caused---that was overpowering, but that still wasn’t it. 

 

Rather, it was as if his physical presence somehow took up all of the space I needed for breathing.  It was as if his existence so profoundly deep inside me somehow stopped my diaphragm and lungs from working, making it harder for me to inhale, infinitely more difficult to breathe. 

 

At the same time, the bottomless depth in which his iron-hard flesh was buried in mine was still causing me great pain---but in a way that made me feel like maybe I would soon be anesthetized there if he didn’t move too much--perhaps there was a possibility I could finally learn to please him this way if only he’d allow me the chance, and the time necessary.

 

 

After giving her a moment to recover, Bossman told her to get on her knees again, but to leave her forehead on the mattress.  He had to mostly pull out of M and take his weight off of the teenager’s hips in order for her to be able get her ass back in the air for him again.  She struggled up though eventually, and when she had finally succeeded in getting her hips back where he wanted them, he again entered her. 

 

This time he was able to quickly penetrate her but chose to give her only about two inches.  Even this minimal entrance brought another heartfelt scream from her though, and again he temporarily pushed her face into the mattress to muffle her.

 

 

Listen through your screams to the wind still whispering: Don't give up -- Surrender!

-Eric Ganther

 

When Victoria had finally gotten back on her knees, even as he pushed her face into the mattress, he ordered her to begin masturbating herself with her left hand.  At the same time, he was now able to grab both of her breasts and use them, like giant reins, to pull her body towards his hips. 

 

His hands were cruelly gripping and fondling her breasts and when she cried out in pain, he told her to move with the pain.  Eventually Victoria understood what he meant and she began to push on the mattress with her free right hand and back away from the head of the bed towards him in an attempt to relieve the pressure of his hands on her breasts.  He was pleased again with her level of obedience as she never stopped playing with herself with her left hand as she pushed on the bed and against him with her right.

 

Moving back against him also meant that her only chance of reducing the pain he was causing her breasts was to impale herself upon his huge cock again.  Refusing to think about anything, broken and perfectly tamed now, time after time she cried out or groaned as she determinedly forced herself upon him, never once wavering in her resolve to follow his every command and exchange the pain in her breasts for the pain of his full penetration in her ass. 

 

After a minute or so, she was grinding her ass against his groin, firmly fixed upon his cock again; she could go no further back against him.  She was continually groaning and grunting now, but whether due to his grasp on her breasts or his cock buried in her ass, he couldn’t tell. 

 

This was a great moment in their relationship, for he now had evidence that she’d been perfectly broken; that the feeling of independence which she’d professed to love so was gone and that she was his mentally as well as physically. 

 

 

I had backed onto him as far as I could and it hurt me a lot to do so, but he didn’t seem to care---he just pulled on my breasts and kept me pinned against his hips.  It was at this point that I began to realize the pain of him inside me was receding and that it was finally beginning to feel---if not good, then at least acceptable.  I later realized that the way he filled me at this point seemed beyond what my physical body could hold and that he had extended the walls of my body beyond their material limits---and that it was this feeling of total lack of control over both myself and everything around me that had begun to drive me towards my first anal orgasm.  I smiled at him then, even the smile offered was tentative, had the feel of a forged document.

 

I was finding that for me, while accepting him like this caused me a lot of pain at first and not much pleasure yet, the erotic part---the part that would later really turned me on---was the act of submitting to his will and doing something that I would never have considered on my own.  I’d reached a crossroads and had to turn left or right.  I made my turn and this single act of my willingly offering to him every aspect of my freedom automatically exempted him from the laws which ruled average men and women, this freedom allowing him to do wonderful things to me.  I felt his paintings upon my body featured freely brushed strokes of love, if not tenderness. 

 

This time, when he started moving inside me again, it still hurt, oh God, did it still hurt, but somehow a perverse part of me wanted more.  I cried out as he pulled out and then I screamed again in some pleasure as plunged back inside me again.  Eventually, I began to feel a need and a passion I knew I would never have experienced if I had given up, if it wasn’t for him. 

 

 

He had her back up on her hands and knees again.  He’d released her breasts and had two large handfuls of her long hair.  Like her breasts, he was using these like reins too.  When he pulled hard on her hair, it forced her head up a little but mainly it forced her to do a grinding motion with her ass as she backed into him to take the full length of his erection inside her.  When he let go of the pressure on his ‘reins’, it allowed her to lower her head a little and she would then slide a couple of inches off of him. 

 

Panting as if she’d run a mile, she crouched like an animal beneath him, taking it up the ass just like all of the others had---having a gorgeous bitch hanging off of his cock like this felt great.  He knew now that she was a keeper and it made him feel good.  With him holding handfuls of her hair, it gave him pleasure to be able to pull her head to the side every now and then so that he could see her face better.  He liked looking at his slutty pleasure slave’s faces when he took them like this.  This one’s eyes were still closed, but her mouth wasn’t open to show her pain.  Instead, it was now open to enable her to give voice to the pleasure he was brought her. 

 

Every now and then, she’d turn her head so that she could look at him over her right shoulder.  M’s face was beautiful, and she kept her beauty even as he knew that he was hurting her.  She’d smile even as he forced another groan out of her, and then she’d face ahead and continuing taking it in the ass like the whore that he’d always known had been hidden inside her for the last nineteen years.  The last time she looked at him for his approval, he pulled on the handful of her hair on that side of her face and held it so that she had to continue looking at him.  At the same time, his other hand grabbed her hip and then he thrust and lifted with his hips at the same time in order to change the angle of his penetration into her ass; he knew full well that he would hurt her with this move. 

 

He watched with satisfaction as her eyes fluttered shut and he could see the wattage go out of the tentative smile on her face as she was temporarily overcome by the pain he offered her.  But she willingly accepted even this anguish as the price for her being allowed to remain where she was, on her hands and knees being fucked in the ass by a giant black cock.

 

Looking down at her hips, he could see her stretched asshole grasping at nothing as he pulled all the way out of her.  He looked at the massive head of his cock and noticed with perverse satisfaction how it was almost that thick at the base.  Then her asshole was blotted out as he drove into her again and he felt her weight back on him.  She made a long ululating sound as he penetrated her this time and her cry was definitely one of pleasure and not pain. 

 

She hung off of his cock like an ornament on a Christmas tree, pinned and squirming, and like every other women before her, it felt wonderful.  Unlike the others though, M seemed to be able to put pressure on him the whole length of his erection and not just at the base with her sphincter.  It felt like her rectum was vacuum packed around the length of him, not just tight on one tiny part.  The feeling was unlike anything he’d previously experienced and he concentrated on cataloguing all of the sensations associated with it.  This one, he thought to himself, might even be around longer than most of the others as long as she kept her looks up. 

 

 

Nothing takes a sexual experience from 0-100 faster than anal.  With anal, I can go balls-deep without having to worry about hurting her.  Plus, she literally goes into a trance-like state when I’m plowing her anally.  A state vaginal doesn’t readily get her to.  You know what’s better than one hole?  Two!  And if she’s into it, I’m having it!

-Anonymous

 

At the end, when he entered me from the rear, it gave me such a keen feeling of beautiful fullness that any remaining pain was literally outside my body; a delicate yet intense feeling of cramping and distension which came as if it occurred in someone else’s bowels.  I knew my knees were spread obscenely wide as I crouched helplessly underneath him and he continued to give me the exquisite love/pain thrusts from which I no longer desired to escape.  

 

He kept taking longer and deeper strokes into my rear, always controlling my hips and legs with his body; he pulled on my hair and with his massive cock, he drove my body ahead of him as a great tsunami pushes the smallest boat.  The way he held me now, I could not avoid anything, but rather had to willfully accept everything he did to me.  While his hips controlled the entrance to my body which he now filled with incredible ease, he controlled the rest of my body and mind with his hands and voice alone.  This was what I found so erotic; he was my Master.

 

I looked at him unabashed adoration as he gave me what I hadn’t even known that I needed.  I wanted to stay like this forever.  I worshiped at his feet; I idolized the way that he kept me frozen on my hands and knees, taking whatever he wanted and giving me what I needed.  I tried to look at him to let him know how I felt, but he would pull my hair and force my face back to the front.  After he did this twice, I knew I had erred.  He then punished my insolence even more by lifting up with his hips as he drove into me once more, forcing me to arch my back and pelvis to reduce the ripping agony of accepted him,  My whole body unconsciously responded to the additional pain he offered with this single move.  God, how I loved it once the initial crushing wave of pain had passed!

 

He took me high and then made me come down again, rode me up and then forced me down again, never allowing me any release.  The constantly changing sensations finally began to help me understand what it was all about.  His giantness inside me caused more than fullness, he had given me this pain on purpose.  But it was my anguish, my helpless reaction to him ripping and tearing inside me which gave him pleasure; and giving him pleasure was now what my whole life was dedicated to. 

 

I began to take the pain he brought me and used it to take myself high into the sky when suddenly, finally, I came down in shock as I heard myself screaming to him, “Deeper, give me all the cock you’ve got!  If you want more you black bastard, then take it.  Deeper!  Rip me in half!  Fuck me, hurt me, take me!  I want it all!”  He was my Master and he deserved to be able to do this to me.

 

 

He now began a furious fucking motion and it was at that moment that they both began their first true ride up together and then they exploded simultaneously in both sound and feeling.  They rode that rocket to the skies again and again, and finally one more time.  Her screams of passion rose and rose again until her voice cracked like a cheap mirror, leaving her with only groans and moans to convey the emotions which filled her.  Always aching and in wonderful pain, her rectum still gripped and sucked him in, demanding more of him and he always responded.

 

Then it was over, with quarts and gallons of semen flooding into Victoria as her orgasm exploded and consumed both of them in its fires.  Her body shook beneath him, the breath driven from her lungs and the sight from her eyes.  Lacy, delicate waves of release washed over her as the need never before identified was finally satisfied.  He collapsed on top of her back and the two of them lay there while her uncontrollable muscle contractions slowly subsided and left her uncaring and unknowing.  She never felt it when he finally pulled out and released a flood of their mixed fluids to run down her crotch and puddle on the mattress.  She felt only the wonderful feeling of nothingness and contentment which followed the explosion of her long denied first true anal climax.

 

 

I knew now that I had been waiting my whole life for an aggressive man, one who made me feel helpless and needy, one who dominated me completely.  Thinking of the man who desired me, I knew that I wanted him to take me by force rather than by insincere gamesmanship.  I’d have opened my heart to let enter any male who wanted me more than anything else in the world, who would risk anything he possessed to have me.  An Alpha, not a Beta.  No soy drinkers need apply.  Most men don’t understand what happens to women and especially to a woman like myself.  But perhaps a few do, and to That One I had said, I’m ready, I am ready and waiting.  And the Master had responded.

 

I knew now what I was.  I was his; his to play with and his to hurt and his to love.  Whatever he wanted to do with me was alright, because I would be giving him pleasure in it, and that was what now all counted in my life.  Letting him decide what he wanted to do to me and with me would give me all the pleasure, and discipline, that I deserved.  Right now, it was my time to suffer.  I knew my cervix was bruised, my vagina ached and throbbed; my rectum hurt and I think that, despite my month long preparation, he’d torn my flesh when he first entered me there.  But I will recover and I was willing to accept this, and so much more, in order to remain with him.

 

 

Wolf lay in bed and looked at Victoria.  He was exhausted and filled with a general feeling of pleasure and well-being.  He’d gorged himself upon M’s body tonight.  Over the weeks he’d had her, she’d proved to be all he’d hoped she would be.  She’d taken everything he had in every way that he’d desired, with no complaint and in the end had somehow been able to beg for more.  She was still naïve and relatively untrained for a pleasure slave.  But what she lacked in training, she now more than made up for it in beauty, enthusiasm and sheer physical ability.  Mentally, she already accepted the fact that she belonged to another, had given up all pretenses to innate freedom and rights and privileges. 

 

He was fatigued and his loins tingled with a pleasant sensation of exhaustion.  Their sex that night had been an endurance contest and they both were exhausted.  She was now sleeping next to him, lying on her left side and holding on to his arm with her right hand.  He had allowed her to remove her high heels, but had her leave her garters and stockings on. 

 

Every now and then she would give out a soft snore.  He looked at the teenage beauty again, at the lingerie she still wore.  Like many men, he would wake up in the middle of the night with a raging erection.  Unlike them, he ensured he always had the option of rolling over onto a slave like this and taking her without warning or preparation.  In addition to the sheer physical release this unnecessarily brutal, but incredibly pleasing act gave him, the initial shock and the screams provoked from his bedmate always helped to reinforce both the helplessness of her situation and the position that she filled in his life.

 

He thought of the two young women he’d recently sold to the pimp in Mexico City; Megan, the Irish redhead and Bridgette, the brunette from France.  He always liked to keep a couple of pleasure sluts around and he had been annoyed with himself.  He’d screwed up because he’d sold these two before he’d had their replacements trained.  He’d wound up having to use one of the local girls and he didn’t like doing that.  He had to be a lot more careful with them than he did with the women that he kidnapped, and in the end he’d just sent her home again with a lot of money. 

 

M was going to be a great piece of ass, but he’d been a little pissed that he’d had to go over five days between getting laid.  He’d built up a nice little load waiting for her to finish her training and he knew that he’d probably be tempted to take out his frustrations on her over the next few days.  He’d have to watch for that.  But she was a big girl and he knew that she could take it.  Hell, she may have been a tight-assed little virgin when she was home with her parents, but from what he’d seen of her tonight, she’d probably love being disciplined and mistreated!  Well, she’d love it as long as it wasn’t too over the top. 

 

He’d ordered the pair of girls sold because he’d just suddenly had enough of the French girl.  Frustrated, he’d sold them as a pair and had been paid over $50,000 for them—they were still that exquisite.  They were now working on the second floor of a small hotel in the worst part of one of the worst cities on the continent.  He’d kept them for about a year and a half until he got tired of Bridgette’s whining.  She’d become exceedingly disrespectful, trying tell him what she thought he needed to do to/with her and with Megan, as if she knew Megan’s body and her body better than he did. 

 

In all honesty though, he had to admit that he felt a sense of pleasure at the current situation.  He’d finally realized that most of his desire to be rid of Bridgette was pretty simple---she’d put on more weight than he liked while he was gone.  Leave it to the French to eat too much bread, he thought to himself.  He’d had her disciplined, but she’d retained enough remnants of her naturally brash and impetuous personality that it had turned out to be a continuous battle despite her situation. 

 

So, instead of putting her still shapely ass on a starvation diet and continue keeping them around, he’d just decided to sell off both girls and bring in some new blood.  It was a pity about Megan; the beautiful redhead from Ireland hadn’t really deserved being sold as a whore along with Bridgette, but life can be a bitch when you’re at the wrong place at the wrong time.  In truth though, he really did have to admit that he was rather pleased with the results of his decision at this point.  He leaned over and whispered softly into M’s ear, but she didn’t awaken.  He gave a sigh and leaned back again. 

 

Wolf had watched television in the study this evening just before M had been delivered and he’d seen the woman on TV that had haunted his dreams for so long and who had forced his life into the twisted turns that he had taken over the last thirty years.  This was the woman that had told him, “You’re not the one.”  This was the one upon which he’d always vowed vengeance.  But he’d also thought that the reality was that his talk of revenge had been nothing more than that—an attempt to pacify his male ego.

 

She’d been on television a lot over the last month and she had aged tremendously during that time.  He quite appreciated that the television camera was not kind to her; that the lens of the camera always showed her as she was now and not as she used to be.

 

Wolf looked over at M and stroked her perfect breast lightly.  She awoke for moment and smiled at him and then nestled back to sleep still hugging his arm.  He wondered to himself, had she heard him just a second ago when he’d whispered in her ear, “Don’t put on any extra weight.” 

 

He looked at her breasts and saw the remnants of the telltale blush that so betrayed her emotions regarding him and he smile to himself.  He thought again about the woman whom he had hated for so long and he thanked that stupid woman for her carelessness. 

 

She looked awful, and he tried to imagine the anguish that could make someone age so greatly over the space of only a few weeks. 

 

He thought to himself with a smile, having your only daughter kidnapped and disappear without a trace can do that to a person.

 

 

Epilogue

 

It's an illusion, control, Naomi said.  You ought to understand that by now, young Claire.  We are never in control of our destinies, even the strongest of us.  All we can hope to do is not be too badly damaged by events.

-Rachel Caine, in Black Dawn

 

The efforts never stop, the operations always continue. 

 

Somewhere late at night a whispered plea for help is received on an old-fashioned cassette tape.  The agonized appeal is accompanied by a request for silence until all is resolved.  Voice verified, a decision is reached.  Quickly dressing, a rendezvous is made with the source of the tape.  A short, vicious struggle ensues and all is quiet again.  Still later, a boat departs in the middle of the night and all is still once more.

 

 

She awakened in the morning and blearily looked around her.  Over thirty-six hours had passed since she’d been kidnapped, but she was unaware of this as they’d kept her unconscious the whole time.  All she knew was that her tongue tasted awful and her jaw ached.  While her mouth was filled with her saliva, her lips were parched and dry. 

 

What the hell was going on?  She was groggy and felt nauseated every time she tried to move.  Her head felt like a balloon as it wobbled on her shoulders.  She tried to say something and only then noticed that she’d been gagged!  She struggled for a moment, but ran out of breath quickly and soon realized it was useless.  She became aware then of the sweat beading her body, running in small trickles off of her bare chest, stomach and thighs.

 

Her long blonde hair covered much of her face.  Weakly shaking it out of the way, she raised her head and glanced down at herself.  The woman wished then she had not, for she realized for the first time that she was naked and lying spread eagled on a bed---that wide leather straps had been put around her ankles and wrists and that her hands and feet were bound to the bed posts. 

 

For some reason her hips ached something awful, it hurt to move her butt and all she wore was a pair of red high-heels.  She tried to rise off of the bed, but failed.  Panic blossomed in her mind then and threatened to overwhelm.  But she was a person well-known for her self-control; she took deep breaths and the walls stopped closing in.  With this, the panic began to die too.  After another moment, she was able to conquer all of her fear through sheer will power and now began to look around the cabin. 

 

 

The man sat in the corner, silently watching her.  He knew everything about this woman—he should for he had been studying her for months.  This was a beautiful woman and he knew things about her which bode well for his needs, he just had to uncover them.  But there were things he’d discovered about her that made him think that she too had needs that as yet remained unfulfilled; deep and profound itches which as yet remained unscratched. 

 

Furthermore, she was arrogant and a control freak, and it would be interesting to see how she reacted when she first realized that she’d forever lost control over every aspect of her life. 

 

He had a feeling his life had just gotten a little more interesting.

 

 

She lay unmoving for several minutes, her mind floated, half deadened by the aftereffects of the drugs she’d been given.  What had happened?  The last thing she remembered was……… 

 

Oh God!  She’d run out of the house wearing only an old pair of sweats, and then……..

 

The kidnapped woman struggled for a second time, but finally gave up when she realized she was bound to the bed in a way which ensured she would never free herself without assistance.  Still deeper inside her, panic began to coil its unbidden way around her heart. 

 

The air was muggy and her body was now finished all over with a thin sheen of perspiration which gleamed in the morning sunlight.  Her nipples stood erect from her exertions and she had difficulty in getting enough air to breathe through her nose because of the gag in her mouth.

 

The bound woman knew this had to be nothing more than a bad dream and soon something would happen to wake her up; she’d be able to laugh about it in the morning and perhaps even jokingly tell others about it. 

 

 

He’d been sitting in the chair for over an hour, waiting for her to come out of her drugged sleep.  She’d been porpoising in and out of consciousness for the last fifteen or twenty minutes and he figured she had about as clear a head as she was going to get, considering all the drugs they’d kept her on for the last day and a half. 

 

He’d always made it a rule he would be the first to sample any new bitch’s wares and in situations like this, he liked to be there when they woke up.  It tended to take a lot of the fight out of his new women when they were first confronted with their new reality by a man built like him. 

 

He liked to take them before they’d had a chance to gain control of their fear, to figure out what was going on---before they’d had a chance to gather their willpower and the determination to fight their captors. 

 

He knew it was disorienting as hell to the women he took, waking up this way; it was done purposefully for just that reason.  There they were, coming out of a long drugged sleep, still confused as to what the fuck had happened.  And then he immediately mounted them like the sluts they were and literally gave them the fuck of their lives. 

 

The whole crew then came after him and by the time the first day had ended the women were physically exhausted, emotionally traumatized, sexually degraded and generally in great pain from their first gangbang. 

 

Psychologically, most females were totally helpless against this continuous male onslaught, and while at the end of a long day of getting their brains fucked out, a few may have had the faintest desire to continue to struggle against him, most had no idea of how to fight what seemed to be a continuously overpowering physical force.  For most, that was the secret—never give them any more time than was absolutely necessary. 

 

But this one could be interesting.  Surprisingly resilient, for one of her age and life experience, she had to be one of the mentally toughest females with whom he had worked with in a while.  But he knew the secret to dominating a woman like this was to never give her the time to gather her wits or to marshal her will power, never allow her time to rest, time to think, time to plan.  Never, ever. 

 

Fuck ‘em up at the beginning and never let up on the pedal—no time to recover, no time to sleep once it began.  It was just another set of tools he used to keep his life full of broken women.  It had worked with all of the others and he had no doubt that it would work with her.  Soon, sooner than she would ever have believed possible, she’d be willingly fucking them all, taking it in the ass and sucking on all of their dicks, just like the natural-born whore he was sure she kept hidden away, locked deep inside her mind.

 

 

There are two types of pain in this world.  Pain that hurts you.  And pain that changes you.

-Anonymous

 

Controlling her fear and forcing herself to be calm a second time, the kidnapped woman began to look around the place in which she was confined.  She noticed some cheap nautical looking furniture and when combined with the round windows and gentle rocking motion, it finally clicked---she was on a boat. 

 

Finally, the nude, bound woman noticed a black man sitting motionless in a chair across the cabin.  Her breathing instinctively became shallower.  The muscles of her throat tightened, closing it down, just as the muscles on the insides of her thighs strained to pull her legs together.  She had never felt so vulnerable before in her life. 

 

She wanted to cry then, but wouldn’t allow herself that luxury--nor him that victory.  If she started down that road filled with weakness, she knew she would never stop. 

 

Motionless, he was like a huge statue, medium brown in color and with muscles jutting out all over his body.  Part of his face was wreck, but it was difficult to tell because one side was covered in a fantastic, fanciful tattoo. 

 

A chill ran down her spine, the first she could remember feeling in over twenty years.  He was a monster, the Devil personified. 

 

She writhed then in another futile attempt to attain a position which left her vulnerable nakedness less exposed to his view, but she was once more unsuccessful in this.

 

He sat in the chair for a long time without saying a word, just watching, just looking.  The man in the chair finally gave her a slight smile and then he stood up and said, “Good morning.” 

 

He was a big man, even bigger than he had appeared while sitting in the chair.  Turning so that his back was to her, he started undressing, taking off only the swim trunks that he wore.  Face now filled with horror, she began to struggle frantically then, making the incoherent mewling noises that were her only method of crying for help.  He had a massive build, and his buttocks and the backs of his legs writhed with muscle as he folded the trunks and laid them on the chair.  Then he stood upright and said, “Listen to me and listen carefully.  How your next few weeks go depend solely upon you.” 

 

 

This was a beautiful woman.  He’d seen her before, dressed up for television and despite her age, had thought her ravishing then.  He now knew she was even more gorgeous in person than it had seemed might be possible.  He was looking forward to seeing how his man dressed her after she’d been broken and had entered the training phase. 

 

His crew had some very high quality raw material with which to work this time.

 

Finally, he turned and slowly began walking towards her.  There was nothing here he had done to himself, it was purely genetics for him.  But nonetheless, he loved this part for it was always the same.  The captive women would look at him the first time, then they’d…

 

LOOK.  AT.  HIM.

 

And their eyes would open wide and their pupils would dilate and their heads would begin thrashing from side to side as they tried to free themselves from their bonds.  But they never could. 

 

He loved watching their faces when they saw him naked for the first time, especially their eyes.  The eyes never lied; he looked into their eyes and saw the light from their soul.  Sometimes, if they pleased him, he let them keep that light.  Other times, he’d snuff it out like he would an ant under his feet.

 

 

The world is so unpredictable.  Things happen suddenly, unexpectedly.  We want to feel we are in control of our own existence.  In some ways we are, in some ways we're not.  We are ruled by the forces of chance and coincidence.

-Paul Auster

 

The nude, bound woman looked at him and she felt a deep, awful, animal-like fear.  This couldn’t be happening, he couldn’t be real.  There were laws against this….rules that had been put in place to protect women…….women like her….she’d always worked so hard to be in total control of everyone and everything around her….. 

 

But it was and he was, and as he slowly approached her bed like the Prince of Darkness incarnate, it was then that her intellect fled and pure emotions took over.  She had always made her living with her mind and she despised those who lost their heads and panicked under pressure. 

 

Eventually though, a situation had arisen where her mind was of no use and, as a woman, a pathetically weak woman, even she too now felt only panic and fear.  She was truly feeling for the first time a woman’s deepest fear--that of being forced to accept the profoundly overpowering sexual will of a stranger like him.  Only because of his greater physicalness. 

 

And although her conscious mind had not yet registered this emotion, deep inside her there also was a part which gibbered its dread of the physical damage an abnormally developed monster like him might cause her. 

 

A beautiful woman from a supportive and caring family; an intelligent, educated and progressive woman with an extremely successful career in law---none of this mattered anymore.  She had spent so many years of her life learning how to manipulate the system to her advantage and how to use it to reward or punish others.  It was always the system from which she’d derived both her strength and her power.  Many of her “victims” thought her a bitch of the first order as she used the system to beat them into the ground and grind them under her feet.  Despite the unfairness, she suddenly understood how, to their illogical minds, this might even seem to be payback for all of the pain she’d willfully caused to others. 

 

To them, it would now be her turn to experience hell, to experience that which she thought everyone had long left behind; the helplessness of the weak, the absence of the network of civilized laws and the beliefs developed over the last several thousand years which protected the vulnerable. 

 

But this time it was to be so much worse than she, than anyone could ever have imagined.  For, like a cork on the ocean, she’d been forcibly carried into a new world in which she had absolutely no control.  And yet, and yet, the act which she knew she was soon to be forced to experience was as old as time itself. 

 

This was a scene which had played itself out for millennium in culture after culture, but always under a set of laws different from that of civilization.  These were the “jungle rules”---and in the jungle, a single female alone was always dominated and eventually owned by an overpowering male presence.

 

She swallowed as best she could the saliva which had built up in her mouth.  Like a terrified rabbit in a trap, she watched him come closer and closer.  There was no softness in him anywhere and no mercy in his eyes.  But no matter how she struggled, she couldn’t do anything to stop him or to free herself.  She’d always been able to control everything before, especially where men were concerned.  Men were so easy to control, so easy to manipulate….if only she could talk to him……reason with him.  But she’d been gagged and this took away her persuasiveness and her logic, what might possibly be her most useful tools here.

 

The nude, bound woman heard him say something else, but it didn’t click at the moment because she was still in the throes of rage and disbelief.  Trembling inside before his power despite her belief in feminist values, she refused to show that fear--even as that fear of his overpowering toxic maleness radiated from her like waves of heat.

 

 

Civilization: a thin veneer over barbarianism.

-John M. Shanahan, in The Most Brilliant Thoughts of All Time (In Two Lines or Less)

 

The soft, muffled screaming soon began; it carried out over the water for quite a distance, but no one was there to hear except the sea birds.  The dulled sounds first forced from the bound woman’s throat began as harsh and inarticulate shrieks and screams of fear and pain and rage.  Within less than a day these cries of rebellion were turned by the remainder of her captors into the more typical muted grunts and soft groans of a freshly recruited slut that, while beginning to see the value of acting as if tamed by her trainers, was yet to be actually broken to accepting the harness of total sexual bondage. 

 

In the end, she was a magnificent female, and she fought them for over two days before finally, truly giving them what they desired.  And what they desired was nothing less than total capitulation, total truth, and full liberation of the once-hidden inner woman. 

 

The men loved to sit on deck and listen to the shifting sounds coming from below, the new music that followed the old, all coming from the woman’s throat as she finally began to accept the requirements of her new life. 

 

And so, over the course of the following days and weeks, the emanations from this beautiful woman were forcibly changed, from the initial gasps of an intelligent, overly proud and dignified woman being sexually humiliated and tortured, to the softer mewling and begging and crying noises of a woman who had been physically and sexually broken.  A woman who knew her only purpose in life now was to please her Master and the men around her. 

 

These were the sounds of a mature woman who knew all too well what she had been forced to give up and what she now faced for the foreseeable future.  These were the sounds of a conceited and arrogant bitch who had finally been taught that each and every one of us has a master, and we all should only pray we never meet him. 

 

But all of these sounds too were dampened by the humid Gulf waters surrounding the hellboat.  Within only a few weeks after her unconscious body had first been brought aboard, the woman’s training had finished and she was taken to her new home.

 

 

Sexuality is a glory in a slave girl which sets her apart from free women...The sexuality of the aroused slave girl is incomprehensible to the free woman. It is nothing she will ever understand. It is a color she cannot see, a sound she cannot hear...

-John Norman, in Tribesmen of Gor

 

My name is M, it used to be Victoria.  It has been fifteen months since he took me.  I am being driven in a jeep over a rough trail to another small village.  My Master owned over 40,000 acres stretching from Caribbean beaches in the east into the western part of the San Jose Province of Costa Rica.  There are at least six small villages on his property and this was the third I’d visited in the last four months for a “shopping” expedition. 

 

I was familiar with the term “middens” now and these places definitely qualified.  I am scheduled to visit one village every two months and apparently my Master has one other female slave who alternates “shopping trips” with me.  The Master trusts us both now and this means every village is graced with a visit from one or the other of his pleasure slaves at least twice a year. 

 

It seemed Master will do anything to keep his “serfs” happy.

 

I know my life isn’t a fairy tale romance in which the heroine realizes her undying love for the hero after he’s finished with her.  There are no heroes or heroines in my story and there will be no happy endings here, forever after or otherwise.  I accept this.  I can’t imagine living with him, but I couldn’t imagine my world without him either.  I need him.  It is unspeakably selfish, but it is also honest.  As honest as he is with me.  

I need him.

 

I am known only as M now, or “Slave”.  I find I have embraced my new life with a passion I never felt for anything before.  I’ve adopted and accepted my new name as part of that new life.  I know I’ve been manipulated by him into being everything I am, but that really doesn’t matter.  For in the end, I came out of my shell and entered a different world, a new world entirely of his making.  And it was only fitting I embrace his name for me too.  All he’d done was move forward the point in my life at which I would have had to choose between my true nature and what I had mistakenly believed as a child.

 

I rarely feel any emotional stress regarding the decisions I have made about this man and how I now fit into his life.  Sometimes though, in a completely disconnected sort of way, I understand that I am being used, but it is by a man larger than life, a man who deserves to be in charge of my life, in charge of the lives of many weak women.  But I am the lucky one, for he looks at me and everything I do now, and he grins wickedly as he makes me a better woman. 

 

I am his, but even more important, he is mine. 

 

There were times I watch the earlier movies made of me on the boat and I can only shake my head at the naiveté shown by that young girl.  How obvious it was in hindsight I had fought my true nature with every breath I took.  But I’d come home now and that was all that mattered. 

 

I loved making love to him.  It was like making love to a wolf with a human heart, the beast holding its strength and instinct in check, aware what it could do with those powerful jaws, the vicious teeth, the instrument of death caressing me as gently as it would pick up a pup in that mouth.  It was frightening, and it was exhilarating, and it was this I had come to want most of all over the preceding months. 

 

Somehow, somewhere, I stopped being a victim and had instead become a survivor---just not the kind of one-dimensional survivor feminists love to promote, but a real survivor.  And if I have become a survivor in a way they cannot understand or agree with, then this is okay with me too.  Everything that happened to me in the past is just that, in the past.  I just don’t think about it anymore. 

 

I, nor any other woman, will ever tame this man.  Even thinking of that seems blasphemous.  The metaphor which best described the two of us was not the lion and the tamer, for only he would ever tame himself.  I had become used to my life.  And so, my metaphor would be that of the woman “married” to a werewolf, a creature considered by many to be normal in most times, but prone at times to a monstrous affliction. 

 

In the legend of the werewolf, the affliction came from an ancient curse.  In my man’s case, it came from a twisted and tortured childhood.  But the metaphor could be stretched no further, for he did fall upon strangers and terrorize the innocent.  His victims, like me, were the only witnesses to his transformations, the only ones who saw him, however briefly, in his monster form.  Despite my initial misgivings, I have come to accept this. 

 

My life became so much better when I stopped fighting him.  Instead, I have come to love the lingerie I was initially forced to wear.  He no longer needed to make me wear lingerie or sexy clothes or high heels, since I often did so anyway, but now just out of my desire to please him.  I have come to love the way the silky material feels on me and the way it makes me look—I can tell by the look in other men’s eyes that I am still attractive this way.  I love the tight, supportive feeling of the stockings on my legs and the glossy look of nylons supported by the garters I wear.  I like the way the high heels I wear all the time now make my legs look, and the way they allow me to look a tall man like him directly in the eyes. 

 

Even though still not necessary, I take more care with my makeup now.  And when he is with me during the day, I do my best to look enticing for him, dressing like the most beautiful models I see on TV.  At night, I always try to dress like the slut he wants me to be, wearing the sexiest and flimsiest items I can find. 

 

To me, sex is finally something special—a privilege---and while not always necessarily as intimate as I had dreamed it might be when I was a younger, I am comfortable with it and with what I am. 

 

I am with someone now who knows to treat me the way I need to be treated and I’ve found I respond to his coarse maleness with great desire.  I want to have sex with him all the time, the thought is rarely out of my mind.  Because of him, I’ve finally been forced to open up and discover what was always waiting inside me---and now I am ready to have sex with any man---but only if Master commanded me.  I’ve discovered that I like the male body….I just like everything about a man.  I like men’s firm, muscular arms and their legs that are so unlike mine.  I like to grab men’s asses, to feel their great muscles there.  I like men’s hard bellies—and if he has that beautiful treasure which hangs below---that is all I care about.

 

 

We do not choose our Masters nor is it up to us, whether or not we will please them, or to what degree.  We must strive be perfection all ways, for anyone.  That is part of what is to be a slave.  In reconciling myself to bondage I had, also, to reconcile myself to this condition, it is a part of bondage.  It is something which the slave must accept.  Without it there can be no true slavery.  I had accepted this condition, at least theoretically, verbally acknowledging its incumbency on me, in my training.  Somehow, interestingly, this acceptance too, seemed liberating to me, it made my bondage much more real to me.  Too, interestingly, in its way, it also made it seem much more precious to me.

-John Norman, in Dancer of Gor

 

Wolf slowly let himself into the woman’s bedroom.  The air was warm and aromatic.  He sniffed then, smelling the wet odor of an aroused woman, and another even more distinctive smell, that of fresh sex.  She lay on the bed and as was often her custom now, she wore only the red high heels similar to those he had first given her upon her arrival. 

 

Upon his entry, she stretched and gave him a soft smile of welcome and respect.  One hand rose towards him, beckoning him to come back to her bed. 

 

This one was not M, who had matured nicely into her new life.  At first, he’d been forced to beat this one unmercifully for not being more respectful, but she only seemed thrive on his blows.  This was a woman who had a huge desire for and an incredible capacity to accept pain.  Of course, as her master, he had willingly accepted her challenge. 

 

It had been a long fought competition between two strong-willed individuals.  But, in the end, the struggle had been completed in the way he had always known it would be from the very beginning.  People teach you who they are under pressure.  That’s when you see all their failings, all their weaknesses.  And under his tutelage on the boat, this beautiful woman had looked deeply inside herself and had found a bottomless capacity for accepting pain which could only be filled by blows from the man she acknowledged as her master.  But before accepting him as that one man, she had fought him, oh, had she fought to make him prove his worthiness to own one such as her. 

 

Wolf mused to himself, our body feels pain to warn of us danger, but it also reminds us we are alive—that we can still feel.  That’s why some seek it out, and others choose to give it.  As for the two of us, the sharing of pain connects us, she and I, and it reminds her that we are not alone as long as we can feel it, not as alone as she had thought she was. 

 

He walked over and looked down on her.  The insides of her thighs, her belly and her breasts were all bruised from where he’d hit her, but where before she had demanded physical brutality from him in raging defiance, now she required it as proof of the rightness of his control….and of his love. 

 

This once proud and arrogant woman had been completely tamed and humbled by him and his crew.  And if she fought, it was all a pretense now, for everyone knew what she was. 

 

Her overweening pride and conceit had disappeared, along with her dignity, with the first realization that the whore she’d hidden for so long inside had finally demanded to be let out.  Her false vanity about being above the vagaries of life and her arrogance over her place in the hierarchy of male/female relationships, both of these aberrations were gone now.  In turn, they had been replaced by the acceptance of her new life, as being the lowest of the low, available to any man or woman, as long as they could master her. 

 

Wolf had never understood men who let a woman control them, no matter how accomplished she might be.  Because he kept her hidden away for himself now, no one would ever know this was an extremely intelligent, exceptionally well-educated woman.  For despite her native intelligence and education, the men on the boat had been amazed when after only two and a half days she’d finally realized her true nature, releasing it, embracing it, for all to see and appreciate.  For, once broken, there was almost nothing she would not willingly do for them—all they’d had to do was suggest, not demand, and she enthusiastically complied—as long as they continued to demonstrate they were worthy of her sacrifice. 

 

She’d looked fabulous as they dressed her up, appearing on the outside like the most sophisticated of wealthy women.  But in the cabin of the boat and lying upon the bed upon which so many women had been raped until senseless, she truly became the most wanton of whores, greedily consuming every awful thing they did to her and often demanding more even as she recklessly continued to insult them just to earn the desired additional punishment. 

 

The other thing about her was her incredible ability to take being fucked by massive cocks in both her pussy and in her ass.  To not only take it, but to love and demand it from him.  It truly was amazing---this woman was all pussy and ass, and he had never seen another quite like her.  She’d fought the anal love-making at first, perhaps because there was no love involved or maybe because she had been taught as a child that it was something forbidden, shameful. 

 

But, over time, the needs of a stronger mind won out over the reluctance and hesitation of a weaker body.  Masochistic to an extreme, in the end, the more they could hurt her this way, the more she wanted it that way.  And finally, she’d been stretched until she could easily accept any man including him, and still get pleasure from the encounter.  And she was that one-in-a-million woman who never seemed to suffer any physical ill-effects from it. 

 

She might still fight him at times but it was pretty much all role-playing now, for this was a woman who had been well-taught her new role in life.  This was a slave female who had learned to like being sexually humiliated in every new way he could come up with as well as being physically beaten on a regular basis.

 

 

The woman held her hands out to him again, once more imploring him to re-enter the world of her bed.  He slowly dropped between the woman’s welcoming, wide-spread knees and as he began to take her for the third time in the last two hours, he thought to himself how profoundly pleased he was with both of his current pleasure sluts. 

 

They both were definitely his slaves, but they both were also natural-born sluts too.  So many women came through his hands that he could always afford to be incredibly picky about his personal sluts, but these two were quite spectacular. 

 

So different, but yet so similar.  The genetics of this one’s family must be amazing. 

 

And with that last thought, he thrust smoothly and massively into Victoria’s aunt Samantha.

 

 

How incredibly, and yet rationally and justifiably, I felt at his mercy.  He was my master.  He owned me.  He could do whatever he wanted with me.  He could trade me or sell me, or even slay me upon a whim, should he wish.  I was absolutely his, his girl.

-John Norman, in Slave Girl of Gor

 

Georges hit an especially rough piece of trail and the open top jeep began bouncing all over the place.  My long blonde hair flew loose behind me in wind-blown disarray.  I reached up and grabbed the roll bar with both hands to stabilize myself, but this allowed my unconfined breasts to be thrown all over the jeep.  If possible, my nipple chain seemed to be pulling the piercings out of both of my tits at the same time. 

 

Grimacing in frustration and no little pain, I put my arms back down over my chest and raised my feet up on the dash, where I was able to push in and keep myself braced in the seat.

 

It had been six months since I’d had my baby, but Master had not yet granted me the privilege of naming him.  For the first month, “baby boy” had slept in my arms, but no more.  Master did, however, allow me to spend one hour a day during the week with the infant and three hours on the weekend; that was enough to keep me happy. 

 

He’d not allowed me to breast feed because he didn’t want me to have stretch marks on my breasts.  In the same way, he’d ensured his staff kept my abdomen well-oiled while I was pregnant to avoid marking what he jokingly referred to as his property.  Master knew he now had a permanent hold on me, that I could no more abandon my baby and leave his estate than I could stop the sun from rising. 

 

I’d gained thirty pounds during my pregnancy, but with hard work and good genes I’d been able to throw off all of the effects of giving birth within a month.  I had my trim waist back now and Master had me on birth control.  While he didn’t particularly want any more children from his women, instead of getting me fixed, he told my next owner might want to impregnate me himself if I were purchased as a breeder. 

 

 

Punishments include such things as flashbacks, flooding of unbearable emotions, painful body memories, flooding of memories in which the survivor perpetrated against others, self-harm, and suicide attempts.

-Alison Miller, Healing the Unimaginable: Treating Ritual Abuse and Mind Control

 

My baby was beautiful.  Medium brown skin, fairly straight black hair and soft, chocolate brown eyes.  Six weeks after I’d given birth, another baby had been delivered at his mansion, but this one a girl.  This baby looked much like my son in that she had the same color skin and hair, and oddly enough, the same color eyes.  The staff passed rumors to me this baby’s mother was my Master’s other pleasure slave, although the mansion was so large I had never seen her myself. 

 

That’s not true, I corrected myself.  Actually, I’ve been with her numerous times, but we’ve just never been introduced nor had I seen her face.  Master had given me an exquisite black discipline hood made of the softest Spanish leather soon after my arrival.  When wearing this hood, one breathed through a small cutout area around the nostrils, but still remained totally blind.  If the three-inch penis gag which came with the hood was inserted into one’s mouth, one could not speak.  If the ear pieces were inserted, one could not hear.  When wearing the hood, my remaining senses were magnified and I soon came to love the uniquely intimate smell of sweat and saliva mixed with the aroma of its fine leather. 

 

One day, when I was only two months pregnant and had only the smallest of bellies, Master had brought this other pleasure slave into the play room off of my bedroom.  He informed me this was “B.”  It was clear Master had had two hoods made, for this woman wore one identical to mine except hers was a rich red color, the deep dark red of wet blood from a woman’s veins, not her arteries. 

 

Feeling tinges of jealousy, I took that opportunity to review my competition with a practiced, if slightly jaundiced eye.  B’s arms were bound high behind her back with her forearms and hands encased in a single red leather sleeve.  This sleeve was tightly connected by a small, yet ornate chain to the discipline hood after her arms had been pulled up high on her back.  She was my competition for his affection and the bitch truly was helpless.  I wanted to hurt her, but another part of me hesitated—doing something like that just wasn’t like me. 

 

B was naked except for her hood, arm sleeve and red pumps with four-inch stiletto heels.  She had a gorgeous body, with long and slender, yet shapely legs.  Obviously, B had danced sometime in the past.  Her calves were shapely by nature, but were made even more so by the heels she wore.  Her thighs were well-muscled and her ass firm and high. 

 

But the perfection of her skin was marred by a series of bruises on the insides of her thighs which centered on her genitals.  I felt a momentary sense of shame at first quick flush of pleasure I felt at her misfortune.  He had obviously beaten her severely with his fists sometime recently.  When he turned her, I could also see she had been marked by the whip on the back of her thighs, her ass and the small of her back.  As with me, her waist at that time was still small.  But both of us would soon balloon with our Master’s seed having taken root inside. 

 

Like me, B too had a bikini wax which left her vagina nude except for a thin strip of curly hair.  But unlike me, she had multiple rings piercing both of her labia.  Her hair was pulled up inside her hood, but judging from the dark blonde color of her remaining pubic hair, she was a natural blonde.  Her breasts were large for her frame and had small aureoles, while each dark pink nipple was pierced by a large golden ring and each ring was connected by a chain similar to my own. 

 

But even though an experienced pleasure slave who had been pierced and remained bound, this woman still seemed to hold herself with pride and even dignity.  Between her natural bearing and her arms pinned in back by the sleeves, she held her shoulders back as best she could while her breasts jutted out fearlessly from her chest without support. 

 

I watched her for a while, and then realized I was smiling.  I turned my back on her and gazed at the wall for a second, shocked and deep in thought….did I find her predicament amusing?  Why was I smiling?

 

 

After a victim is made to participate in an act of evil, the people in charge put a lot of energy into convincing the child or adult that he or she is evil and a perpetrator rather than a victim.

-Alison Miller, in Becoming Yourself: Overcoming Mind Control and Ritual Abuse

 

This other woman, my competition, was unaware of my presence.  Master led this unfamiliar female into my play room and tied her without struggle on her back with her legs in a spread-eagled position onto the low, padded bed there---B was still very submissive at this point.  Next, he’d ordered me to slowly caress the woman’s body all the while I was to talk to her, whispering into her ear, attempting to calm her with the reassurances I did not feel for her. 

 

But in this, no matter how often we have been brought together since that first time, I have never been successful.  B could obviously hear me because that first time, she made a startled movement when I began speaking.  After tilting her head away from the female who was her rival, she began to struggle mightily against her bonds.  But the stupid woman never could free herself. 

 

Our interactions together never changed early on.  She must have known I too was our Master’s other pleasure slave.  She resented me for it and hated it when I tormented her.  She would always go berserk in her attempts to free herself as I slowly licked her breasts and the sweaty naked skin between her legs.  Eventually, Master always had to hold B’s shoulders down.  When I finally began tonguing and eating this woman’s pussy, no matter how hard I tried to calm her fears, B would cry in her rage and frustration with me.

 

She was continuously being disciplined because of her inability to accept me.  For example, Master had given me a strap-on dildo to use on this slave.  It was an enormous black rubber affair, so large it made me fear hurting her.  Far larger than anything I could have comfortably taken, especially without significant foreplay to make me wet and my flesh more pliable, but Master assured me B loved it inside her, and so, at first I reluctantly obeyed. 

 

This was my first time to use one of these and I was always looking at Master for guidance, to ensure I was doing everything right.  Since the other woman was already tied to the bed, I laid down on top of her and after taking a moment to tell her what I was going to do to her so she wasn’t surprised, I plunged the giant lubricated piece of hard rubber into her already moist pussy with one move of my hips. 

 

B went berserk again, arching her body and bucking like a wild mare, attempting to throw me off of her hips and belly.  But as others had done to me so many times in the recent past, I just centered my weight on the other woman’s hips and held on to her asscheeks for the ride.  Quickly B became exhausted, less and less physical in her struggles, quieting down as her need for air increased. 

 

Soon we both were covered with sweat and finally, I was able to completely take this woman as my Master demanded.  I found this to be more like work than a pleasure I enjoyed. 

 

Yet, he seemed to immensely enjoy this sight, of me urgently fucking B with a giant strap-on dildo.  I lay each time between her widespread legs with the dildo buried from sight inside her vagina and my weight heavy upon her belly as I kept my head buried in the left side of her neck and my left ear near her nose.  I could easily hear her tortured breathing as its tempo increased with the movements of my hips. 

 

She proved to be a reluctant lover. 

 

It took a long time, much longer than I had expected, but I was nothing if not relentless in my pursuit of the woman who lay hidden behind the red mask.  Finally, she broke under me and I was able to make this unknown woman cum and then cum a second time. 

 

When I had finished with her, I rolled off of her sweaty body and lay next to her for a moment.  Again, strangely, she began crying again.  Softly though this time, as if her heart were breaking.  This was an odd woman.  I found B distressing and myself wondering, if she always acted like this with my Master, why would he keep her around?  I knew many women passed through his hands.  Seriously, he should sell her and take another, more appropriate slave from one of the islands.  Or maybe another North American, but one more suitable for this life.  Later, I realized just how much he had changed me if I was able to even entertain for a moment this kind of thinking. 

 

Master allowed us to rest for a short while, then he had me help him take B off of the couch and force her face down on a foam rubber cushion lying on the floor.  For just a moment, she did not struggle.  Once her ankles had been freed from the bed though, she again struggled against us and I found myself treating her harshly, perhaps more harshly than was actually necessary.  I cannot lie, I enjoyed beating her.  Clearly, this was a woman who needed refresher training in obedience and I was beginning to get frustrated with her constant defiance. 

 

It took both of us to finally subdue her and this was difficult for me because I was still wearing the strap-on dildo.  Even with her being bound and sightless and there being two of us, she put up a mighty struggle.  But in the end we prevailed---for as I have learned, he always wins in the end. 

 

With me sitting on her lower back, he was able to grab B’s ankles and finally spread her long legs, binding them to the ends of a metal bar which was about four feet long. 

 

With her again immobilized, he told me to fuck her in the ass with the dildo.  I really didn’t want to do this because I knew it could actually maim her, but Master was insistent.  Clearly, B could hear him and knew exactly what he was saying to me, for once more, even hooded and with her arms bound high on her back and laying on her stomach with her legs tied far apart, she still tried to struggle against her fate. 

 

I had been surprised at the amount of vaginal fluids secreted by B when I first took her with the dildo and was able to use these to now lubricate the rubber cock again.  She was my rival, and even though I was feeling more and more confident in our competition for his affection, a part of me took pity on her.  I only wanted to hurt her, not maim her.  Crawling once more between her thighs bound so far apart, but now from the other side, I reached down to spread B’s cheeks and then I looked at her anus. 

 

It looked just like I knew mine must look, so I knew that Master had re-sized this woman for himself too, just as he had me. 

 

Soon both B and I were slick with sweat from our struggles, yet B was still proving a distraction, shaking her head back and forth, and moving her hips and rear end in an attempt to make my target more difficult to hit.  All the while she maintained a continuous stream of mewling and pleading noises, the incomprehensible sounds emanating from behind her gag. 

 

I remember every detail of the small smile he had on his face as he heard me repeating in her ears over and over again, “Don’t make me hurt you.  Please relax and don’t make me hurt you.” 

 

Keeping B’s firm asscheeks spread wide open with my left hand, I finally hunched my hips and guided the rigid piece of rubber with my right, tentatively beginning the first moves that would result in implanting the huge artificial cock totally inside this other woman. 

 

Finally, it was done and I was a couple of inches inside my new lover. 

 

Even held down by Master and with my weight on her back, B had at that point still gave out muffled shrieks and fought me every step of the way.  It was obvious that B was a proud woman who had already been anally trained, but who was being forced now, against her wishes, to accept a new anal lover---or was she being punished for some infraction? 

 

Once I had slowly forced my way past B’s sphincter, things began to go much more smoothly for both of us.  As more and more of the giant, soft gel-rubber rod entered her ass, B struggled less and less.  For her, it was a hopeless act of defiance to fight this anymore, for it would happen.  And it would happen in exactly the way our Master dictated.  When I finally, carefully, pushed eight or nine inches into her ass, the woman was lying totally quiescent beneath me.  It was like she’d gone into a trance or something. 

 

Her anus had blossomed to perfectly accept the punishing rubber cylinder I now offered and her rectum appeared to receive the full thickness and each inch of length without difficulty.  Except for an occasional series of minute shudders which ran through her body, B now lay spread-legged and frozen beneath me. 

 

There were no more struggles nor did she make the slightest sound.  I knew I too would have laid still at this point, since this great, brutish thing would have ripped my intestines to shreds or nearly broken me in half.  She either had given up and was accepting everything I did, or she was in so much pain that she was afraid to move; I wasn’t sure which.

 

On Master’s order, I now hooked my toes against the bar that forced B’s ankles so far apart and I pushed against it, thus allowing me to use my thigh muscles as I began taking long, slow, even, deep strokes into my reluctant lover’s body.  Eventually, and despite what appeared to be her best efforts at not responding, the other female slave finally began to warm to me, moving and wiggling her buttocks against my groin in reaction to my slow measured thrusts in and out of her body. 

 

At the same time, I noticed that Master was now fucking her in the pussy with a giant jelly dildo.  The only sounds she was making at this point were exquisite moans of pleasure.  Amazed, I suddenly realized she was also pushing back on both tools, voluntarily taking them as deeply as her bound body could. 

 

I was astonished this woman could not only accept something this large inside herself, but had even somehow been taught to enjoy it too.  What had she been like in her other life?  What had been her story before being taken?  What must she have gone through to reach this point?  What had the crew on the boat been forced to do to turn her into this kind of a slut? 

 

Regardless of her history and despite my initial feelings of ambivalence, after everything I had already done to her, I found it exhausting to be fucking this woman in the ass this way. 

 

Not so on her part though, for by the end of our first time together the woman on the bottom had been giving out muffled screams of what could only have been enormous pleasure and enthusiastic encouragement, always pushing her pelvis up and grinding her buttocks into my groin in absolute anticipation of the next thrust. 

 

Filled with pleasure, Master laughed and laughed at us as we fucked, encouraging me to always dominate B and ensure she gave us whatever he demanded.  It was soon over again as her helpless body once more shook with one powerful orgasm after another, all brought on by her vagina and rectum being simultaneously filled with massive sex toys, tools actually meant for little more than feminine humiliation and destruction. 

 

To this one though, these characteristics, so brutal to other women and if I were to tell the truth, even to me, these seemed to make them even more desirable to her.  Perhaps this was only because she could not see who I was or what I was doing to her.  But still, she could feel.  She could tell these were not the normal toys used on a willing woman. 

 

What kind of woman wanted this?  What kind of hell had made her this way? 

 

B had cum again under me and I was finished now, or so I thought.  However, Master had me stand up and after removing the strap-on, he had me straddle B’s unmoving body and squat before urinating on her back.  I was mortified to be doing this to another person, but Master insisted and so I reluctantly complied.  The woman lying between my legs just laid there in her slowly increasing pool of warm urine and accepted the humiliating shower. 

 

After this, Master freed B by releasing her ankles from the bar.  But B still laid there for a minute without moving in the urine puddle.  It was as if she was recovering from a marathon or some extended endurance challenge, with her poor reddened rectum gaping open like a fish’s mouth. 

 

Then her shoulders starting shaking.  At first it was a small movement, but soon I could hear great heaving muffled sobs coming from within the hood.  Suddenly, I felt really bad about what I had done to this woman, but I knew in truth I’d had no choice. 

 

I also knew that roles here changed overnight and it might be she doing this to me tomorrow.  None of us here, except my Master, had any choices at all except to honor his will, whatever that may be. 

 

Pulling on the top of her hood, he made her climb to her feet unassisted out of the urine and this was difficult for her since she was still wearing the red pumps with the four inch heels.  But now her legs were weak and her knees trembled either from all of her efforts at fighting me or perhaps because of enjoyment at what I had done to her. 

 

In any case, she could barely walk, her shoulders were slumped as if in defeat and they shook as she still cried beneath her hood of blood red.  It was then that I slowly, gently wiped my urine off of her body even as I murmured gentle sounds of reassurance into her ears.  This tiny act of kindness, grudgingly allowed by my Master, brought on paroxysms of crying once more, and this time I knew her arrogance had been defeated for she cried like a mute baby under her hood. 

 

Though I know this is only my imagination, even her breasts seemed to sag in defeat now, hanging lower on her chest as if dejected, almost deflated in part.  Master finally led the poor hooded slave away and, a little troubled, I continued with my daily routine as a blank-faced maid quickly entered and cleaned up the tile floor.

 

I knew I had raped and sodomized my Master’s new pleasure slave upon his command, but I had not changed so much on the inside that I liked the way this made me feel.  When an inexperienced teenage girl on the hell boat, before I had come to know myself, I too had been repeatedly raped and sodomized---I knew exactly what this did to a person. 

 

The only thing which helped me through my initial time with B was my prayer that she realized I had no more choice in this than did she, and the forlorn hope that perhaps, at the end, she had somehow enjoyed, at least a little, our sex together.

 

 

Before we both gave birth to his infants, we were brought together numerous times after that first hooded introduction, and I was still never able to see my mystery lover’s face.  Sometimes she fought Master when he led her into my play room, on other occasions she seemed resigned to her fate as she was tied to my bed. 

 

Always though, after that initial tryst, however much she might initially have fought me, she responded enthusiastically to our sex in the end.  However reluctant my mysterious lover might have been initially, I somehow knew too in my heart that in the end she wanted me to do this to her.  Somehow, this feeling made it a little easier for me to continue. 

 

I have been with other women at my Master’s command since then, and I have learned to enjoy these times too.  Despite my instincts that she had accepted me doing these things with her, I must admit, for some as yet undiscovered reason and unlike all of these others, I still remain both troubled by my times with B and have never myself yet achieved any kind of real sexual release with her.

 

But Master assures me this will change—that all things change over time.  I am a mother now.  My giving birth to baby boy changed me as a woman.  It opened my eyes to many things about which I had previously been unaware.  It seems this event too has also changed B.  Master led B into my playroom for the first time a month after she had given birth and she appeared a new woman.  Wearing her now familiar leather hood and arm sleeves, she now almost pranced in a red bustier which left her full, pierced breasts pushed up and bare, and for the first time she wore a garter and sheer stockings that matched her red heels. 

 

Although I sense she is a little older than me, I somehow know the mystery woman in red is also a truly beautiful woman. 

 

I too was dressed differently at the insistence of my Master.  With my long blonde hair done up in a tight bun, wide severe black leather straps now crossed my body, emphasizing my buttocks and my breasts, and barely covering my pierced nipples.  On my legs I wore tacky black widow spider web hose held up by thin leather garters and custom-fitted, black leather boots that went up to mid-thigh and which had five inch stiletto heels---all of these things I wear now when with B just to please Master. 

 

And when I strap on the huge dildo, I know I must look very severe, very frightening to any who might see me dressed this way.

 

The female infant to whom she gave birth has changed the other woman too, for there is no defiance left in the unknown woman anymore.  There were no more bruises now, for she was much more behaved.  At least, I assume it is the child that has changed her.  Having given birth to a child, she just seems to accept her role in my Master’s life now. 

 

B now willingly enters into our lovemaking, exhibiting a wantonness which surprises even me in its depths and range.  She has a built-in location finder and demonstrates her desire for both myself and my rubber dildo, beginning as soon as he leads her into my playroom.  Her walk changes--she almost prances, walking with the exaggerated movements of a runway model, rolling her hips and pelvis, and thrusting her breasts at me.  The Master loves our new relationship and often belly laughs with mirth at what we three do. 

 

I no longer have to tie her down or her legs apart.  Without coercion of any type, she voluntarily consents to all the things I do to her now at his command---no, this is not totally right, this is not exactly what I sense about her now. 

 

She has now actually discovered a profound need that demands these things I do---and I sense in some way it is me she desires doing these things to her and not just anyone else.  I somehow feel she has abandoned any attempts to control her most intimate needs and there is now an inner compulsion which drives her to seek out domination by me, and me alone. 

 

And I sense this desire of hers for me requires being quenched, requires periodic relief just as much as she must crave his mastery and control.  I know what I now feel about B may not be logical, but it is what my intuition tells me.

 

The sight of us together always seems to bring Master great enjoyment.  I am ever pleased to see him smile and laugh, but find it strange it is always we two who bring him such great pleasure.  He never gags me but always gags my mysterious lover when we are together.  This I find somewhat odd and even a little frustrating, for I would like to hear her voice….unless it is her duty to always please him while muffled and mine to do so while free. 

 

I still hate the gag.  But Master knows this quirk of mine and no longer uses it on me very much now, preferring instead to hear me give full throat to the pain he renders when either in my playroom or on my bed.  Only when he has had a bad day or is in a foul mood does he bring out the gag and then I know that, with my body belonging to him, it is my duty is to give him the pleasure and the release he both needs and seeks. 

 

In this, I try to do my best, but for some reason I find it psychologically more difficult to accept and accommodate the pain he offers me when I’m wearing his gag.  Sometimes though, even this difficulty of mine seems to give him joy and delight.  However, I have learned to not question or second-guess my Master--the lessons gained along the route of this knowledge were painful and long lasting.

 

Master has recently assured me that soon, very soon, B’s hood will be off and we will each then assume new positions in our relationship.  He assures me I will be to B what he is to me.  That I will be taught to use the whip and the cane, the rope and the clamp and the pliers---and that she will learn to serve me as we both serve him. 

 

While I admit I do at times get pleasure in making this unknown woman cum for me, this pleasure is not always sexual but rather is more due to being able to so easily dominate her now.  However, I do not feel I will enjoy becoming this familiar with her and with making these kinds of demands upon her mind and body after that.  For this is a woman with a dark side to her that in some mysterious way makes me uncomfortable.  And as such, I would prefer that our contacts remain intermittent and impersonal--if they could ever be called that--and that she continued to be anonymous.  I actually feared further real intimacy with this unknown woman.  I did not want to know her, I did not want to see her face. 

 

While I was inexperienced when my Master acquired me, I had not been a complete novice.  I knew then what a Dominatrix was and I sense that he was preparing me for that role with B now.  This was not something with which I am necessarily comfortable.  Obviously, I cannot tell him this, but I think he somehow knows anyway.  This situation must have troubled me more than I had realized because that first night after I had dressed for my new role, I had a nightmare. 

 

I was in a room and I felt as if all of my surroundings, my whole life in fact, were illusions recorded on a series of slides.  And now someone had changed the slides.  There was no dizziness or disorientation.  Suddenly I was there, standing in a meadow, ankle deep in grass that was soft and blue-green under a cloudless sky.  A stream flowed by to my left and its sound was magnified in the still air, peaceful, as it rolled over the stones in its bed.  The meadow stretched on forever as if the world were flat and there were no horizon.  I could feel no sensation in my body or in my feet.  It was as if I floated or lived only in my mind.  I heard no sound---in fact, there was no sound in this meadow.  I was suddenly aware of clouds in the sky, or in my mind; I could not tell which.  But they were there, dark and foreboding, cooling the air.  There was a feeling of evil in the air, of impending violence.  Oddly enough, I found this exciting in a new and different way. 

 

Nevertheless, I knew that someone was there, just behind me.  I turned and she was there.  There was now a woman standing by the stream, staring at me.  I could not understand where she had come from, for the meadow was open and stretched empty for what seemed an eternity.  Nevertheless she was there and she was interested in me.  She took a few steps forward and I sucked in my breath. 

 

The woman by the stream was me, but she was the exact opposite of me.  This woman’s face was etched in cruelty and while she was astoundingly beautiful, it was the beauty of the hooded cobra or the well-tied hangman’s noose.  Her jet black hair was pulled back severely, framing her face in a mask of pure evil.  She was dressed all in black, in garments that might have been wet rubber. 

 

Her breasts surged beneath her top, diamond-hard tips pointing straight out so that one could imagine their nipples cutting and tearing any who would touch them.  Her legs were encased in sheer black nylons and her black pumps glistened.  In her hand she held the butt of a whip which snaked out over the grassland in front of her, lighting and smoking the blades of grass where it touched.

 

Suddenly, the woman opened her mouth and let out a soundless scream I could only hear in my mind.  I started as she broke into a run, coming directly at me, her whip uncoiling behind her, ready to lash out at my skin.  I held up my arm as if to ward off a blow, but then I realized the woman was moving in slow motion, jumping and gliding at a gradually increasing pace as she crossed the meadow.  I was immensely relieved for, though I was tremendously excited at the way her breasts bounced as she ran, I did not want to be injured.

 

Suddenly, the woman in black was intercepted in the center of the meadow by a woman dressed all in white.  All motion now returned to normal speed.  But somehow, even as they began to fight, I knew this other was me too.  But this was the me which had existed before I had been taken by my Master, an innocent child compared to what I was now. 

 

The woman in black was kicking out with her needle pointed shoes, but the other leaped and dodged like a gazelle, always out of reach.  The tip of the whip lashed out and touched the woman in white on the breast, leaving an ugly purple welt.  Then they were locked together, wrestling to the ground.  They ripped and they tore at each other.  The woman in white seemed untouched, but the other’s garments were torn and shredded.  Black garters and the ribbed tops of her stockings stood out against the stark white flesh of her thighs.  Her breasts seemed to leap and dart across her chest as she struggled with the woman in white.

 

They tumbled back and forth on the grass, beating at each other, kneeing at every sensitive area of the other’s body.  They rose to their feet and while still locked in each other’s embrace, finally toppled over into the stream.  The water from the stream splashed into the air, hovered for an eternity and then fell slowly back in a sheet of individual drops. 

 

They were out of sight, but then rose from the water a moment later two leviathans.  They were still locked in each other’s arms, but this time their embrace had a different quality; it was an embrace of passion.  The water had not only cleansed them, but it had miraculously healed them too.  Both bodies were now devoid of clothing, and shown white and clean from across the meadow. 

 

The legs of the two women were now intertwined and their hips moved back and forth furiously.  Suddenly, the women sank to the ground out of sight.  I tensed, then hurried to the stream.  They were nowhere to be seen.  I started to cry, not for what I had seen, but for what I had lost. 

 

And then I awoke.

 

This dream has many potent meanings and my unconscious mind was certainly trying to tell me something.  Perhaps it told me I had reached a critical point in my life; a point where I have the choice of either staying as I am or of becoming a darker version of myself.  And all of this depends upon whether I allow myself to delve too deeply into the seductive embrace of the Dominatrix.

 

Maybe my subconscious was telling me that darkness and light already exist inside me and I need to open myself to my mysterious lover in red.  And only by willingly giving her what I know she so desperately craves from me, will I be able to marry together the two separate sides within me and save myself.

 

Possibly, my mysterious crimson lover was represented in my dream by the woman in black.  But why then would she have my face?  And why was I excited in my dream by the thought of impending violence between myself….and myself? 

 

Perhaps this dream is telling me my crimson lover is more like me than I could ever know?  And that we share the same likes and dislikes, the desires and needs?  That the violence which she needs and which I do to her, in reality stimulates us both?  Although I do not believe this interpretation, if this is the case then I have done her a terrible disservice. 

 

 

Sometimes, when I long for baby boy but cannot hold him, I feel lonely.  For a while, for just a moment, I thought I’d felt a glimmer of the human kinship the Greeks called agape, without which, they said, one could not live a balanced life.  Despite my misgivings, I had wanted to know more about B.  But that glimmer had gone out when I asked the servants who this mystery woman was and what she looked like.  All of them would just look at each other in contrived confusion and scurry off or pretend they hadn’t understood my question.  Eventually, I stopped asking any questions.

 

For me, the oddest time had been when Master had brought us together when we were both seven or eight months pregnant.  Master had enjoyed seeing us spoon on a bed with each other, with pregnant belly extended and ground into the small of the back of another pregnant belly.  Even then, at eight months pregnant, I had thoroughly enjoyed touching this woman from the rear as we both lay on our sides. 

 

Again, she fought me when things went beyond that, and Master’s help was required to subdue her.  And as before, after her initial reluctance had faded, B had enthusiastically taken part in the sex between us and seemed to thoroughly enjoy being filled by the giant rubber phallus I wore. 

 

We both enjoyed anal sex now, although I felt relief when I coaxed Master into downsizing the phallus size—did B appreciate my efforts too.  .  

 

 

It is a beautiful moment when the woman realizes that the man who owns her is her love master, and the man realizes that the girl he bought, looking up at him, tears in her eyes, is his love slave.  Then the only danger is that he will weaken.  One must be strong with a love slave.  If one truly loves her, he will be that strong.  The slavery in which a love slave is kept is an unusually deep slavery.

-John Norman, in Beasts of Gor

 

There was other gossip about this mysterious slave woman although few of Master’s servants would talk to me of her.  It was rumored that life between my Master and this pleasure slave was lived in her bedroom; and at first, it was like re-living the great battles of World War II.  Much screaming and fighting, and both the giving and receiving of great pain would always precede the main event in which they fucked like animals, never leaving the bed for half a day.  I am not particularly jealous of this other slave now because Master always made sure I too am kept satisfied. 

 

There was also hearsay that B is also greatly in love with being hurt and that Master takes great pleasure in the pain he gives her.  These are things I can believe about her.  Even though I had never earned the dungeon, the other slave had moments of awesome rebellion in which she screamed terrible insults at my Master.  She was heard through the thick wooden door screaming “was that all he had?” and “why had he taken her for he was too old to satisfy a real woman.” 

 

I would never dream of doing this to Master and know he is correct to beat B mercilessly for behaving so badly. 

 

The consequences of her previous misbehavior were severe and I know this was a woman with a deep capacity to enjoy her discipline; that she has been taught well by our Master to deeply appreciate and love both the pain and anguish which he offered her, even more so than I. 

 

I have gone through much myself in these last few months and even though I try not to judge others, I feel she was almost demented in this aspect.  She pursues this outcome, over and over again, at great cost to herself and I freely admit I do not understand this.  He disciplines me and I accept the pain because of my love for Master.  But this one?  I feel she greedily consumes this pain, actually gorging herself upon it as if at a buffet because it fills a need with which she was born.  According to the staff, she seems to have an unending desire for the pain inflicted by him and an almost infinite capacity to accept it. 

 

I wonder: did she come from a place where she was never shown love or respect?  Did she never learn to respect herself?  Or do her aberrations represent the real woman, were they something always there but hidden from the world because of circumstances?  Had she always been this way or was she this way because of how she had been raised, or was there a genetic aspect and she has no choice about what she is?

 

While curious about her, I also know there must be emotional issues too; something critical inside must have been inherently flawed with this woman from the very outset, for her to have had from the beginning this bottomless need to be hurt by a man before she accepted his rule. 

 

Again, I try not to be judgmental, but anyone who pursues torment and suffering like this to the exclusion of all else; anyone that has this one-dimensional and almost inexhaustible capacity of being groomed to willingly accept more and more pain and who was yet able to keep so focused on this single aspect of her existence; this person was not right in the head. 

 

What would it have been like to have been around this woman in a previous incarnation?  It was impossible to tell anything about this woman’s history; no tattoos, no scars, nothing that gave her away as being either a genteel lady of the house or professional woman, or pole dancer and biker slut from the gutter. 

 

Yet, I know one cannot hide this sort of maladjusted psyche from those around you---something would have always have given her away.  Back in my old world, in my previous life, a woman like this would have been considered…..jarring….distasteful….trashy, and we would have avoided her like the plague. 

 

But she merits his attentions now, and I’m glad he found her and that he gives her what she so obviously needs.  Clearly, she desires him….and she deserves him.  But she is so different from me---perhaps the fact that Master has two totally different types of pleasure slaves is what keeps him so happy all the time?

 

The discipline my Master specializes in giving this slave seems also to be what has kept her a sexual dynamo, the servants eventually confided in me.  When he conquered her and she finally gave in to him, and according to the staff she was always defeated in the end, their sex was something about which epic poems might someday be written. 

 

And when he had been with her for hours and hours and was finally ready to leave her, bloody and bruised, exhausted and worn out in her bed, they would always hear her begging him to stay, to give her still more……to lay next to her and just sleep with her for one night. 

 

But late at night when he was not sharing her bed, they also heard her softly crying as if for what she had been forced to leave behind.  Somehow, I sensed if this other slave hadn’t meant something very special to my Master, he would have sold her by now.

 

I do not look forward to a new, even more intimate relationship with this strange woman.

 

 

Master continues to test me, confirming to himself my commitment to him and bringing out ever more of the submissive in me.  He sometimes makes me prove my devotion to him by wearing nothing beneath a too-short dress as he takes me to public places.  At odd times then, he tells me to lift it and show him my most private and cherished prizes in front of others.  At other times, we go to cantinas in the closest villages and he takes great delight in forcing me to display myself in public places, where the anticipation of discovery by tourists always makes my heart race and my face turn red.  Even as I do this, it somehow soon brings out a frozen side of me which was intimidating to all who saw it.  It is odd how even here, he has no fear that a visitor might see my face and recognize me, for he has that much control over the local authorities. 

 

There is a small, almost deserted chapel about half an hour walk from the mansion.  The priest tending this chapel is an old man from Poland who has been here for over twenty years; from his eyes it is obvious he both knows Master and exactly what the Master does.  But in the priest’s extended time here, he’s also developed a taste for the younger female members of his native flock.  This, and the five gallons of dark rum which Master sends over to the chapel once a month ensures that the priest continues ministering to the group without saying anything to the authorities or higher ups of the church. 

 

However, the hypocritical priest never misses a chance to obliquely condemn him to the few who attended his Mass.  I have no doubt this priest will roast in hell, beside Master, when their time comes.  I hesitate then, for there is no doubt in my mind that I will be there next to them too for my sins. 

 

Once, late on a Wednesday afternoon, Master took it a step further.  He made me wear a loose native blouse and long skirt while I accompanied him to the empty chapel.  There he made me bend over one of rough hewn pews.  Without needing to be ordered to do so, I pulled my skirt up and showed him my naked bottom. 

 

Stepping in against me, he took me vaginally from the rear on the spot.  Of course, I came multiple times, and the unmistakable odor of wetly aroused woman filled the musty, hot air of the chapel as it fought against the smell of old incense and lit candles.  Afterwards, I found myself filled with such exhilaration and adoration that I was wet for him for the rest of the day.

 

The location didn’t bother him, for the Master didn’t much believe in revealed religions.  I think he made me part of his statement. 

 

 

Freedom permits a woman to live without a man.  Slavery makes a woman need a man’s touch.  Slavery, of course, is the surest path by means of which a woman can discover her femininity.  The paradox of the collar is the freedom which a woman experiences in at last finding herself, and becoming herself.

-John Norman, in Magicians of Gor

 

Running my fingers inside my fine Italian leather collar, I looked down at my bare, tanned legs and grimace.  I am not particularly looking forward to this trip---it is another of his dramatic, overly large gestures in which I am again forced to participate.  This time by “proving” my ultimate submissiveness.  I personally feel it is crazy.  It terribly insulting too, but if this was what he desired I do it willingly if not enthusiastically. 

 

Master has me wearing what I call my ‘Dukes of Hazard’ outfit.  Tight faded denim cut-off’s which barely cover the cheeks of my rear end, a white tied off “fuck-me” blouse that leaves my mid-rift and arms bare.  No panties or bra and of course a pair of impractical red strappy stiletto-heeled sandals to complete the costume. 

 

The village is small, without any kind of security or police present.  I’d found out the first time I’d been sent shopping that there was more on the agenda than buying fruit and vegetables---I had to earn the coin with which to make his purchases.  Clearly, he does this to test me. 

 

Although I am only twenty, I have experienced much in my short life, especially over the last year and a half.  Sex is a natural act.  And having sex with many men at one time no longer bothers me, for sex is just sex unless it is with Master.  If with one or twenty-one, in my mind it truly is still just sex.  It just takes me a little longer to recover.  Like Master, I have learned to ignore accepted cultural teachings regarding freedom and monogamy and “correct” behavior.  Sometimes though, when I see a certain look in the eyes of a man who is fifth in line or perhaps twenty-fifth, I know what they are thinking, and I try not to let that bother me. 

 

Mostly, I am successful. 

 

 

Master had set it up so that Georges delivered me to a small room in the village which contained only a bed and a wash stand upon which sat a warm pitcher of water.  Every male in the village, from twelve to seventy had been told they could “spend time with me” and men had been coming in from far and wide to participate.  Master had ensured that rumors were spread and the male population of the village had apparently doubled overnight in anticipation of arrival of the beautiful Norte Americana who would be freely giving away of her charms. 

 

There had only been two rules for the villagers: I was not to be harmed or marked in anyway, and this included biting, slapping or hitting, and all of the men were to be clean of any diseases.  One reason the villagers adored him was that he would always have a local doctor visit each village one day a week.  It was the first time that these people had ever had consistent medical care and it immediately bonded them to him.  It also allowed him to maintain a vigilant eye on the health of village inhabitants as well maintain an eye out for strangers.  Thus, he knew for sure the men were all healthy. 

 

But in all honesty, I’m not sure he cared whether or not the men were clean.  If I came down with an STD, while I think he might have missed me, I knew in my heart I would quickly be gone from his sight forever. 

 

Unfortunately, during this last trip one man hit me twice in the throes of sexual passion.  I truly had not minded.  In fact, slut that I turned out to be, I had responded even more enthusiastically to his aggressive attentions.  But Georges hadn’t even let us finish, immediately dragging him off of me and out into the low jungle where he shot him.  Everyone from that point on had obeyed my Master’s rules explicitly, even as it had temporarily left me frustrated beyond belief.

 

While initially unaware of my role to play, I had assumed it willingly—for this was what Master desired of me.  Still, it was a long and wearying day, even for someone with my….tastes.  I lost count, but a conservatively estimate is that I must have had sex with somewhere between twenty-five and thirty-five men that day.  It took hours and hours, and at the end, it was nothing but determination and sheer physical labor to finish the last few.  I’d sucked and fucked all day and when finished, I’d drained of seed every male villager willing to bed me. 

 

I was exhausted.

 

Originally, Georges would only let one man be alone with me at a time and I’d become impatient---it was taking too long to achieve the Master’s goal…or to satisfy mine.  To speed things up, I’d told Georges to let in more at one time.  By the end, all three of my body’s openings were filled at the same time and I had two more in my hands.  I’d been in slut-heaven pretty much all the rest of that day.

 

Unfortunately, I’d not realized what was to happen on my first visit to one of these villages, so I’d wasted what little water was in the pitcher and had not known to bring along a small towel like I had today.  This way, when I had finally worn out the last man in the village, I could clean myself a little before I went into the market and purchased what was on Master’s list. 

 

I thought back to that first visit to a village and even now still felt a little embarrassed.  The men and boys of the village had cum in my hair and all over my face.  Their semen had been rubbed into my belly and pussy and rear, and was draining out of me on the insides of my thighs. 

 

I’d probably swallowed a quart of their honey-thick, syrupy juice that day.  I was sore front and rear from all of the sex I’d both given and taken, and when finished, I’d done the best I could to clean myself up afterwards without water. 

 

But afterwards, it’d been necessary for me to walk, stiffly, a little sore and unwashed, into the village square, covered from head to foot with the sticky, drying semen of their men.  It had seemed an unending line as I walked past woman after woman, mother after daughter, wife after sister. 

 

They’d silently glared at me and they’d turned their backs to me.  Some hissed at me like a snake and two had spit at me.  Somehow I managed to maintain my poise at that moment, but it was all a façade, for despite what I was, their actions did hurt—perhaps the reason they wounded me so deeply was that the person they really hurt was the girl that had once been---not the hardened young woman who they saw now.  Yet, as much as they despised me, they were all too aware of the Master’s anger should they openly cross him, and so I knew none would dare report me in revenge for what I had done. 

 

Unfortunately, what I had needed to buy had to be purchased from the men I’d just fucked---somehow that had been the worst part of all. 

 

While there were no overt actions---the men of the village were too smart for that---they’d still puckered their lips at me, made soft kissing sounds and other, worse motions with their hands and their hips.  It was clear what they thought of me now.  I wasn’t virgin and exotic anymore, but rather completely explored territory which had been fully plowed and was now to be cast off as barren and less than worthless. 

 

Unless it was to be offered to them once more. 

 

 

Do you know, ultimately, I asked, who will prove to be your one best trainer?  No, Master, she said.  You, yourself, I said, the girl, herself, eager to please, imaginative and intelligent, monitoring her own performances and feelings, striving lovingly to improve and refine them.  You yourself will be largely responsible for making yourself the superb slave you will become.

-John Norman, in Savages of Gor

 

But it really didn’t matter to me anymore---they were men and I knew they’d want me again---or the other woman---when one of us came back to them the next time we were here to “shop.” 

 

I knew what I was—for I’d had to choose and in the end, I chose as I must, as my nature dictated.  He had known long before I finally had realized the basic truth about myself; that I need to belong to someone, to have them run my life for me.  I am my Master’s whore---and his slut. 

 

Forcing me to this realization is his gift to me. 

 

I am twenty-one years old now.  I am an intelligent young woman, a loving mother and willing slave to my Master’s needs and desires---this is my truth and my reality.  Other than the brand and the nipple piercings I received that first day on the boat, he would not allow my body to be permanently marred or marked in any way from that point on. 

 

Of course, this didn’t include the various bruises and temporary marks of ownership left by him when he shared with me his beautiful need to bring pain to our relationship.  I have grown accustomed; no, I had actually grown to need his pain. 

 

This is my gift to him.

 

It had taken me months, but I have finally been able to admit to myself what I really am.  God, I am his slut!  I love fucking him.  I glory in fucking him.  I look down at my lap.  Even now, the lips of my vagina and the muscles on the insides of my upper thighs ache; they actually physically ache to have him inside me, to fill me and extend me and to render me helpless before him when he was done with my body. 

 

His victory and my defeat.  But oh, how much pleasure a person can derive from being defeated!

 

I am always waiting for more from him, I just can’t get enough now.  I need his essence, his maleness---I’d shoot it into my veins if I could.  I find myself dressing up in sexy clothes and waiting for him everywhere now, hoping to waylay him just in order to lead him to my bed. 

 

I had been foolish as a teenager, expecting love to be like what I had read in books.  Instead, what I have found is that love is not like a bus or a train, it doesn’t run on a schedule.  It is unexpected and inconvenient and sometimes messy, not all what you expect…or maybe even want at that moment.  And some people have to wait their whole life for it to show up.  But when it does…when it does……if you are smart enough and lucky enough, you grab tight and hold on, because the bumps and twists and the stomach lurches—these are things which make you feel alive. 

 

I hadn’t worn the last butt plug in months.  With that rubber monstrosity fitted inside me, he’d soon ensured I was sized just right for him and now he routinely takes me that way a couple of times a week.  He is so big that it still hurts me when he enters my body, but now I love the tender pain as he slowly dilates me.  I love it all, I need it all.  I need the way he makes me feel his discomfort, I exult in the way he fills my insides and I demand he control my total physical being when he rides me. 

 

He laughs now when he “drills and fills” me, and I have come to anticipate with pleasure the way I feel my abdomen cramp up when he first bores into me and distends my colon; when he first enters me and my anal sphincter screams in protest, but then eventually, grudgingly and then joyously accepts his meat. 

 

If this was what it takes to please him, then it is a small price to pay.

 

I know now he doesn’t love me, at least not in the way I’d been brought up to think about love.  I’m not even sure he is capable of love in that sense.  At the same time, I also know I have some kind of a hold upon him, but what it is I have never known.  I have never tried to take advantage of this either. 

 

Eventually my body will age; I know my days here as one of his pleasure sluts will be over for me soon enough and then I will be gone.  I just don’t want to hasten the ending in any way.

 

I, who have always been so quiet before?  Now I use vulgar language and habitually curse when we fuck.  And as I submissively beg him for ever more of his meat, there is nothing I won’t say or do to please him.  I never insult him; that is the game the other woman plays. 

 

There are other things I now routinely do for him that I never dreamed I would do to or for a man.  I’ve learned to suck his cock after it’d been in my ass, just to taste myself on him, because this pleased him.  There were other, worse things that I’ve done too, especially with the other woman. 

 

I am his slave and his whore; I am his submissive pain/pleasure slut now and forever.  I crave the way he owns me.  I would do anything he asks, as long it means he will continue treating me like the slave I deserve to be.

 

When growing up, a friend and I came up with the theory that we each get just one Best Day Ever.  Yeah, there are lots of days that might come close, that are fun or meaningful or interesting.  But there was only one best day ever according to all measures by which these things are calculated; you are not too young or too old to try something, you are not wise enough to know you can fail and not naïve enough to still think that things came easy….. 

 

And the thing that surprises me the most?  Every day with him is better than the last—each day with him is the best day ever until the next day. 

 

He’d known me far, far better than I had ever known myself that day on the boat when he first took me.  He told me he was going to show me it was all about me actually giving, while I pretended he was taking.  That in the end, it was about intimacy and naked honesty, about fears and needs and losing myself in my desire to give him the gift of my suffering.  That in the darkness, there was no accountability for my cravings, and that he would be there to save me from myself and give my life meaning.”

 

For many long weeks in the beginning of my stay with him after I’d been broken and trained but before I truly understood, I’d felt that horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach, the feeling one might get when they know they’ve gone over to the Dark Side forever. 

 

But you see, I knew now that I’d be just fine.  That’s the good thing about the Dark Side.   Eventually, your eyes adjust.  I thought back to what Jorge had told me on the first day of my training: “You need to be mistreated in love.  You are the type of woman that will always from now on seek out angry and aggressive lovers.” 

 

He had been right and now I have found that lover. 

 

Forever. 

 

Or at least until he tires of me.