Recruiting Victoria: Part 1 Breaking The Girl

Author: Scotchlass

Recruiting Victoria

If there is one thing I learned early on, it is that you have to live with what you have done.  Not the total submission and whoring required of a sex-slave.  If you couldn’t do that, it would have been better to early on have been sold in one of the local flesh markets.  No, I’m talking about the consequences of accepting your slavery—to your conscience, your relationships, your future, your life.  If you knew at the onset what you understood at the end, would you make the same choices, take the same risks, accept the same sacrifices?  No.  No one would.  You cannot appreciate the weight of that burden until you have assumed it.  You can’t comprehend what it really means.

But that first week, I didn’t know any of that.  And acquiring that knowledge almost killed me. 

 

BOOK ONE—BREAKING THE GIRL

Day Zero: The Prize Is Taken

The whole family of pride and ignorance are incestuous, and mutually beget each other

-Charles Caleb Colton

I think it's always important to be vigilant of what you're doing and aware of your surroundings.

-Leona Lewis

She walked down the street of the Caribbean party town, arm in arm with her two best friends from school.  Falling into the same trap that many others like her had, she assumed that cultures around the world were the same, that her values were their values, and that she was safe because of this cultural relativity. 

Her walk was a thing of beauty, a long gliding step that caused the thin, cotton knit dress to sway back and forth with each movement of her hips.  Her extreme high heels slowed her walk a little as they forced her hips back, yet her remarkable chest was thrust forward in order to maintain her balance.  A striking young woman, the girl acted like she owned the world.

Their two week vacation in Cancun had been a complete success, but now they were all exhausted and ready to go back home.  The plan for tonight was to hit a couple of small places after dinner, and then finish up at the Tropical Orange (known only as T. O.’s) before they went back to their hotel early next morning in preparation for departure.

 

Victoria was nineteen and a starting freshman at the University of Florida, although she actually came from a small place in southern Mississippi.  The town in which she had been born was not what anyone would call sophisticated, so her parents had sent their only child to a small finishing school for her last couple of years before entering college.  After all, they could afford it.  In addition to a better education, they also wanted to keep her away from the trashy local kids around her age, especially if they weren’t---suitable.  They just didn’t want her associating with them, and let her know this in many subtle—and unsubtle-- ways.

She was one of those girls who stayed close to people online but didn’t hang out with them much in real life.  A person who was more socially nimble behind the cocoon of a screen than in front.  Despite her beauty and the attention it drew, she was a person who consistently missed the normal social interaction cues in school. 

She’d dated some at her private Catholic school, but had never found the right guy—she was waiting for the perfect boyfriend; a cowboy, a Southern gentleman.  An innocent, despite her parent’s wealth and superior airs, she had turned out to be a nicer person than one might have expect, liked by pretty much everyone despite her slight social clumsiness. 

She was a careful girl too, not a rule bender.  She was a good jazz dancer and being able to maintain a straight “A” average allowed her to avoid finals in her senior year.  So, while Vic was a popular girl and still found herself the center of attention from all of the local boys, most of them also accepted that she was pretty much unavailable.

 

The three girls walked into the first place and immediately drew the attention of the men there.  The girls all were young and tourists, very good looking and obviously appeared to be having a great time.  Best of all, they were unchaperoned. 

A single short phone call had been made upon their entry, but none of them paid attention to the anonymous black man that slipped in about five minutes later, sitting down about twenty feet away and ordering a cheap local beer.

By this time, Vic and her friends had their rum and cokes well in hand.  The girls were vivacious and alive, bringing smiles to even the most hardened of faces that looked upon them in that tatty little place.  While two of the three were quite attractive brunettes, the third was a stunning, long haired blonde.  She had a superb body covered by a sexy black cocktail dress.  Despite the obvious attractiveness of the other two, the first thought of every man in that place was that the long-haired blonde was by far the most desirable of all.

Vicki moved her head to talk to one of her friends and her thick blonde hair swirled around, framing her face.  Her hair was one of her favorite features and she had let it grow almost to the small of her back.  She was tall at a little over 5’ 9” in height and in excellent shape, weighing a little over 130 pounds.  She was athletic and had long, shapely legs that allowed her to run for hours when playing sports.  They were also one of the main reasons she looked so good in bikinis and cut-offs, sundresses and short, sophisticated cocktail dresses.

Her ankles were shapely and slender, tapering off to rather small feet.  Victoria had just shaved her legs that afternoon, emphasizing the luminous glow of legs, her softly muscular and yet quite shapely calves, and her gorgeous set of thighs.  These in turn ended in the other reason that she looked so good in skimpy clothing.  She had extremely firm and well-rounded buttocks, and they filled every man that night with lust as soon as she had walked in.  Most of the men there silently agreed that she probably had the best ass they had ever seen on a white woman.  Her shoulders were rather broad for a young woman, but helped to place her large breasts in perfect perspective.

This was their last night at the resort and all three friends had decided to dress up a little for their final dinner at the hotel.  The hotel also had a casino and they visited that too.  Although she had learned to pretend confidence, Victoria was by nature a somewhat shy young woman and generally didn’t call attention to herself in what she felt were the overly coarse ways that characterized many of her age.  Even if she was overdressed for beach bars, tonight was a night to celebrate, and different rules applied. 

As usual, Vic’s natural beauty had first attracted the eyes of every man there, but the way she had dressed ensured they never drifted to her friends.

She was wearing a black spaghetti strap dress that came down to about three inches above her knees along with a one inch wide black velvet choker around her neck.  The dress was tight around her narrow waist and billowed freely below.  It plunged both in front and in back, and every man there agreed that the cleavage the blonde revealed ensured that she was not only NOT wearing a bra, but in fact, sure as hell didn’t need one either.

Her toe nails were painted bright red and she was wearing black, strappy sandals with 4 ½ inch stiletto heels.  The sandals were kept on her rather tiny feet by long leather laces that wound up her lower leg crisscrossing half way up around her tanned calves and then were tied in back.  She had been saving for six months to buy this dress and heels, and she wasn’t going to let them go to waste on her last night on the island.  A small fashionable black clutch containing her identification, money and a few other items completed her ensemble.

She liked the way her hair looked tonight---and especially her eyes.  After dressing, she’d crossed the room to the full-length mirror on the closed door of her hotel room and struck a pose.  Shifting her weight, she turned on one heel.  The dress was the color of ink and seemed almost transparent. 

She liked the warm tone of her skin underneath and the way her breasts seemed to bob with her slightest move.  It had been exactly the right choice.  She wore little jewelry except for some long dangling earrings, but while putting on her makeup tonight, Vicki had decided to emphasize her beautiful green eyes.  She thought her eyes were her best feature, but most men would strongly argue that she was mightily in error. 

A little bit shy most of the time, Vic was generally conservative in both her dress and in behavior.  Never one to be driven by peer pressure, she thought that bizarre manifestations like body piercings and tattoos were unrefined and vulgar; something she would never consider herself.  But tonight she was going to show her two friends that she too could get into a festive mood on the last day of their vacation.

Because of her flawless complexion, she needed little else to be ready.  Her lips were always a luscious red without having to use much lipstick (which she generally hated to use anyway because of the taste) and somehow always looked moist.  Her naturally light olive skin tone, in conjunction with her green eyes and long, thick, slightly curly blonde hair, ensured that all eyes would be on her.

When first a teenager, Vicki had wished she had been a little better endowed by nature, but at around fifteen she had begun to blossom into something remarkable.  Her body still remained slender, taking after her father’s side of the family, while her breasts had suddenly begun to grow, taking after her mother.  By the time she was seventeen, Vic was what Hollywood star makers dreamed of—looked five years older than she was and had that indescribable ‘something’ that made her stand out from all others.  Her breasts were not the huge, ungainly things that many women now had artificially created for themselves.  But at 36D, hers were naturally slightly larger than average.  Even better, they were also naturally high and firm with small tan aureoles and pink nipples that jutted into the air. 

She truly was a beautiful girl with green eyes, a nice smile, and a naturally sunny disposition that was immediately obvious to all who might see her.  While also smart and well-read, she hadn’t been allowed to travel a lot and was still oddly naïve about the world in general and specifically about how her looks affected every man around her.  Victoria wasn’t a virgin, but had only been with one boy one time and that was well over a year ago.  It wasn’t a particularly pleasant experience and she wasn’t in any rush to get involved with any of the immature youths with which her small school had seemed to be filled. 

Victoria often dreamed about her future.  She sometimes had regrets about her single sexual encounter because she felt that she had perhaps been cheated.  Hopefully, when the time was right and she had found the right boy to give herself to, she had far more of substance inside her to offer than she had so far been able to give.  But, she often thought, that was life.  Vic consoled herself with the knowledge that college would be different.

 

The girls all stayed for over an hour at the first dive.  One of the brunettes ended up lying on the bar with men taking jello shots out of her navel.  All three had been dancing provocatively at one time or another, mostly with each other.  Eventually, they left together in search of the next place to conquer.

Their shadower followed them out and remained around 100 yards behind them, maintaining his distance.  When the lighting was right, every now and then he would move in closer and take either another photo or bring out a small camera and take a short video of the girls. 

Even when not close to them, he could follow them by sound as they walked under the uneven lighting, the click-clacking of their high heels always pin-pointing their location for him.

He knew the strip of beach clubs intimately and watched intently as the trio came to the next place.  They walked in, repeating their entry pretty much as they already had done twice before.  Later, when questioned by the police, everyone admitted they specifically remembered the beautiful young American girl. 

The laughter continued and another hour had gone by before the three friends were finally ready for the main event; a night at the T. O.  The T. O. was the one place that all of them seemed to enjoy the most, and while in Cancun, they had ended too many of their evenings there fending off various men in the bar.

 

The girls entered the T. O. and, as usual were seated at one of the best table’s still remaining open near the dance floor.  Vicki loved to dance and this was the one place she could lose all of her inhibitions.  Frankly, to the men watching, it didn’t matter how good a dancer she was, she danced provocatively and was just generally sexy as hell to watch.

Also, as usual, Victoria was asked to dance by a multitude of men, but she generally turned down most offers.  Even so, she still danced most of the night and was having a great time.  Around two in the morning, both of her friends were ready to go back to their hotel, but Vicki was thoroughly enjoying herself.  More than a little drunk for one of the few times in her life, she told her friends to go on back to the hotel room they shared and that she would catch up with them in the morning. 

Both girls got up and gave Victoria quick kisses on her cheek before reluctantly leaving her alone at the table by the dance floor.  Looking back on this choice later, she realized this was the single greatest mistake she had ever made, one that changed her life forever.  Later, she would sometimes wistfully wish she had just been just a little less eager for more fun that night, just a little less drunk, just a little bit more responsible. 

The worst part was that Victoria later knew she had no one to blame but herself.

To avoid getting raped, “…young ladies should not drink too much.

-Lai Tung-kwok, Hong Kong’s secretary for security

Kidnapping is such a strong word.  It should be thought as “Surprise Adoption”

-Unknown

Victoria’s shadow watched the two girlfriends get up and leave the blonde teenage sitting alone at the table.  A man with great experience in human behavior, he knew this was the moment for which he had been waiting and that it would not last long.  He looked at the sweat-stained and folded picture of Vicki in his hand, just as he had looked at it a hundred times before.  It had been taken at a nearby hotel beach ten days ago and it showed Vic in a rather subdued and unadventurous bikini.  Still, regardless of the conservative beach wear, he knew this was a gorgeous young woman and he felt his groin tingle with anticipation at what was to come; he could hardly wait to get the operation under way.

He walked up to the bartender and pulled him aside.  He showed him a small vial of colorless liquid and told the man that he would pay him $50 right now if he would put this in that blonde’s drink, pointing out Victoria.  Once the blonde started acting a little woozy, he would pay him another $450 if he grabbed anyone, and he meant anyone in the bar, and had them help take the tourist girl out to a yellow taxi that would be waiting near the entrance to the bar.  This taxi would be driven by a woman who would then pay him the remainder that he was owed.  He was too loudly tell the female taxi driver that she was to take Victoria back to her hotel, the Renaissance.  Finally, the dark man assured the bartender that he wouldn’t get in trouble because he would have a witness as to what he had done.

It was a lot of money to the bartender and he was tempted.  He looked over at Victoria and thought to himself, “What the hell.  She’s a big girl and if she gets fucked a little tonight, no skin off my back”.  With that, he nodded and took the $50. 

It was getting quite late as he put the vial in his pocket and went back behind the bar.  He watched the waitresses, and when Vic ordered her last rum and coke, he was able to slip the drug into her drink without the barmaid noticing.  From there, the plan worked perfectly.  Shortly after, a wobbly and obviously drunk Victoria was helped outside by the bartender and a patron of the bar that had volunteered to help.  She taken to a conveniently waiting yellow taxi driven by a hard-looking older woman, and in one of those coincidences for which the men could only pray, the stranger that helped the bartender had danced with Vicki earlier and knew where she was staying.  Thus, in front of unsuspecting witnesses, this man took it upon himself to give the driver her hotel destination.  No one saw the taxi driver slip the bartender a wad of cash just before she left.

The woman driving the cab had helped the ‘collectors’ before.  She’d had a hard life growing up and could care less what happened to any of these young, spoiled white tourist bitches she saw partying on the beaches every night.  Bad things happened every day to better people than these tourists, so, to hell with them. 

There was no danger to her, both since the cab had been stolen and since she wasn’t a taxi driver anyway.  In less than two hours, the taxi would be cleaned of all prints and returned to the driveway of the actual owner.

As planned, she drove the taxi less than half a mile before pulling into a small, dark secluded parking lot.  There, the four members of the team quickly transferred an unconscious Vicki into a small van.  The taxi driver was paid and both vehicles left the lot, the van heading toward a small secluded natural cove that was about ten miles away.

Once there, Vic was carried to a small runabout and dumped in it.  The small boat was pushed away from the beach and it then headed out for a larger boat waiting offshore.  This new boat was over sixty feet long and had been set up to stay as sea for long periods of time.  It had a large canopy covering a 10’ x 20’ foot deck area in the back, and the side rails all had canvas liners that blocked most of the view of the back deck. 

The small boat carrying Vicki finally hooked up with the yacht and was tied off at the back.  With a lot of work, a limp Victoria was transferred onboard by the four men and finally taken down below into the main cabin.  This was where she would spend the next three or four weeks, depending upon her mental toughness and how quick she a study she was.

The four men carried Vicki down the stairs and through a galley where they met a fifth man in the cabin; he told them to strip her right where they were holding her.  Most of the men in his crew called him Bossman.  She was completely unconscious at this point and so had to be held up at all times. 

First, her dress was unzipped and allowed to drop into a puddle around her ankles.  She wore no bra and her black French-cut panties were slipped over her slim hips and pulled down to her ankles.  One of the men reached down and picked up one sandaled foot at a time to remove the dress and panties.

The man in charge told them to remove the choker and earrings, but to leave her heels on.  Because he well knew the ‘Principle’ that had just purchased Victoria, he was also aware that she was going to get used to wearing high heels all the time from now on.

She was taken to the cabin’s queen-sized bed and laid upon it.  To avoid marking her delicious body, instead of metal handcuffs the men attached wide, soft leather cuffs to her ankles and wrists.  Her wrist cuffs were locked together and then tied to the head of the bed.  One man grabbed each of her ankles and her unresisting body was pulled down the bed as far as possible before they spread her legs and tied her ankle cuffs to the posts at the bottom of the bed.  The leader then reached into a cupboard and pulled out a large ball gag which he proceeded to insert into Vic’s mouth and tie around her head. 

Finally, he went into the cupboard one last time and pulled out a piece of hard black rubber that was about four inches long and about 1½ inches in diameter, generally resembling a stubby dildo.  After lubricating it, he inserted it into her unresisting asshole.  There was a narrow ring around the end of the plug and her anal sphincter greedily closed itself around the smaller diameter of the plug end. 

At this point, even though she was still unconscious, the captive blonde gave a soft moan as her stretched anal muscles locked onto the hard, black rubber now firmly seated inside her body.  There’s no time like the present to start working with her, the man thought to himself as he looked down upon the young, female beauty his men had taken.  All she was wearing now were her high heels, ankle and wrist cuffs, butt plug and a gag; that’s just about right amount of cover, he thought to himself with a satisfied smile.

He looked impassively at the helpless girl.  What a pity.  What a stupid, stupid girl.  Girls with utopian views, pretty girls just like her were disappearing around the world at an incredible rate.  All of it due to diversity and inclusion, and the chaos which engulfed the Middle East, Africa and the ‘Stans.  Stupid progressive twats who ignored government warnings and believed all that quixotic shit they learned at university about spreading love in dangerous places—the ugly truth is, not all cultures are equal, some are better than others.  He didn’t think a girl had to be a hermit to survive, but she sure as shit better be aware of her surroundings. 

Canadian Edith Blais, missing in Burkina Faso; the two Scandinavian tourists raped and behead in Morocco; Jay Austin and Lauren Geoghegan, mowed down off their bicycles and stabbed to death by Islamic terrorists in Tajikistan; Pippa Baca, a solo hitchhiking Italian performance artist raped and strangled to death in Turkey; Amanda Kijera, determined to preserve the dignity of Haitian men, held prisoner on a rooftop and repeatedly raped.  Unable to learn from her experience, she later wrote about it and blamed white men for what happened.  Zaida Catalan, a Green party politician who was raped and beheaded, then left in a shallow grave in the Democratic Republic of the Congo; Elly Warren, environmentalist raped, murdered and dumped in a toilet stall in Mozambique.  This shit was so common place now that the news barely carried it, but NGO’s and charities routinely covered up the crimes so as to not stigmatize poor countries and migrants.  Innocents abroad, the fucking morons. 

He inhaled a deep breath and then huffed it out as he looked at his new girl again.  Her profusion of dark blonde pubic hair proved that she’d probably never had a bikini wax, which fit with what he’d learned about her.  The tan lines on her chest indicated she rarely if ever went topless while sunbathing and it also appeared that she wore a larger bikini bottom than most female tourists her age flaunted.  Her delicate feet were arched in a position dictated by the high heels she still wore and her calves were exquisitely shaped by the tensed muscles beneath the leather lacings.  If you like leather, the Bossman thought to himself, you’re on the right boat.

She was gorgeous, but this caused him no real sympathy for or interest in her.  He’d collected too many fabulous looking women in the past to let this one’s looks stir his blood.  He and his current crew had been doing this for years.  He kept a very low profile on the islands and sandy coasts, and only a few trusted men knew what he really did. 

A slaver, he worked the Caribbean and east coast of Central and South America and had been offering unwilling female slaves he’d kidnapped and trained to various individuals and organizations for over twenty years.  He would move his boat up and down the long coastlines, never hitting the same country twice in a row.  The local police either never talked to each other across national borders or the politicians hushed everything up to keep tourism going.

-www.doctionary.reference.com

-www.brainyquote.com

There was an incredibly strong and remarkably steady demand for the kind of high quality product he handled—the rich just never seemed to be able to get enough.  He’d never kept track of the total number, cutting notches in his gun as it were.  But it must number in the hundreds by now and without meaning to, his mind went backwards in time, going over various women he had ‘collected’ in the past.

It had become a true meat market out there over the last ten years.  As youth tasted the freedom that social revolution offered, young women had become carefree, unwilling to admit that there were limits to anything in life.  Increasingly desperate to experience the next new thing, as time rolled by, many of these young women wound up taking far more risks than was necessary. 

And it was this market of needs that he trolled so successfully.  It was interesting, he thought, how his pursuits intersected with the lives of so many of these women; it seemed almost fated that they would eventually belong to him.  It had been written in the stars for as long as they’d been alive that one day he would own their bodies and their souls. 

He felt he performed a valuable service; skimming off the very best of the best, keeping these beautiful young women isolated from lower class males and those of lesser abilities, providing the high-quality females instead to men of proven means and power.  Even though he earned a good living by trading in these females, he preferred to look at his efforts as part of the ‘natural selection’ of life, a proven way to improve the species.  The most beautiful and talented women were provided as pleasure sluts to men of demonstrated ability; any offspring from this union were therefore bound to be superior even if unsanctioned by law. 

It was, he thought to himself, his little contribution to improving the world.

He had taken girls as young as fourteen, thinking about the short-haired blonde English teenager they’d snatched off of a Dominican beach.  Accompanied by her wealthy parents and a younger brother, the family had showed up and two children had then been allowed absolute freedom at their hotel.  Totally unsupervised by her parents, the girl had had a remarkably well-developed body for her age and even at that young age had enjoyed flaunting it by wearing a tiny bikini while at the beach. 

What could her parents have possibly been thinking? 

At the same time, she’d been seen as being very stuck up and arrogant with the few local boys that saw her at the hotel and on the beach.  It turned out she was actually just a little shy, but that really hadn’t matter to him in the end.  They’d snatched her off the beach one day when she’d been snorkeling in shallow water.  He’d had her checked out after making their snatch and unfortunately hadn’t been able to sample her wares; she’d been a virgin and that “complication” brought a shit-load of money from corporate clients in Japan. 

That was a few years ago, and at seventeen or eighteen now, he didn’t think she was doing much flaunting anymore—given what the Japanese did to enslaved blonde Caucasian females, he doubted he would even recognize her now. 

In the end and far too late to accomplish anything, her parents had gone nuts when she first disappeared and he wondered if they were even looking for her anymore.  Did they ever accept even the slightest responsibility for what had happened to their daughter?  Had they even changed their parenting style once their young daughter disappeared?

He knew for a fact she would never want to go home again after what the Japanese would have done to her.  Those guys took their sex slaves very seriously and when you were put in a company brothel as a young girl, you were used by countless men each day over a period of years and, without attempting to downplay the impact or significance of massive sexual activity, it tended to affect your outlook on life.

He’d taken older women too, some being professionals like the well-tanned, lovely brunette lawyer from Amsterdam.  She had a dark, even tan and long, naturally wavy brunette hair, high cheek bones and brown eyes.  Her face was beautiful in its technical proportions, but ice-cold from lack of warmth and kindness. 

She’d been “recruited” after he saw her one night dressed to kill at a bar on Andros Island.  She’d been an arrogant bitch then; he’d known this immediately as he’d watched her walk in one night wearing a short sundress and fashionable five-inch stiletto heels.  The cunt had come in and looked around as if she were a queen or something and owned the place. 

After picking out a table that ensured she was the center of attention, she’d walked over regally and sat down.  After a moment, she crossed her gorgeous legs and looked around to see if anyone had noticed.  In his own mind, he immediately knew he’d own this bitch within two days.  He’d had no particular order to fill at that moment, but he knew he wanted her, needed to take her down to the bottom of the gutter where she belonged.  This one had been born to be one of his slaves.  And there would always be a buyer for this kind of high-quality merchandize when he had finally tired of her. 

For a smart woman, she’d been pretty dumb.  It was easy to drug her drink and then grab her.  Staying on the open seas, moving from port to port in the islands, the boat had been his personal dungeon as he’d personally fucked her brains out for two weeks and listened to her scream in broken English the first couple of days as she begged for his mercy---mercy he was unwilling to show.  She’d especially been a screamer when he fucked her in the ass that first time. 

Regal attitude gone now, almost surgically removed as he showered her with punishment and rough sex, eventually he sold the whimpering wreck of a bitch to a pimp who needed more bodies for a string of prostitutes he ran out of Panama City. 

Purposefully selling her to a man that offered mostly worn out, lower class prostitutes, she’d been grunting and sweating on her back in a whore’s crib for three years now and he was pretty sure that she’d forgotten how to practice law.  The only practice she got nowadays was letting strange men fill all three of her holes at one time and then sucking on their cocks afterwards.

He thought about all of the young, uneducated, poor and even middle-class girls he’d grabbed over the years.  There were so many that their faces merged and then just ran together.  Many had been tourists, but more than just a few had been locals. 

One woman in particular had belonged to the local police force on a small island off the coast of Venezuela.  She’d been a strikingly beautiful girl with smooth skin tanned dark brown from the sun and long dark brown hair with reddish highlights.  Athletic and with a great figure, she’d fought his men like a tiger from the beginning and his sex with her had been great. 

This one had been different from the others.  It wasn’t just her body he’d wanted, although it had been a joy to fuck her.  It had been her energy, the thing that made her her---that was what he’d wanted.  Eventually, he’d taken it all and it no longer pleased him to fuck her. 

He’d ridden her like a mare in heat without taking her in the ass, and even now just the thought of when he’d first taken her, when she still had all that fight left in her, it gave him a major erection.  Her personality upon initially being taken had been naturally aggressive, remarkably so.  Pure speculation, but this belligerence was what had probably attracted her to police work in the beginning. 

At the end, he’d left her on a small, uninhabited island with his men for a week just to ensure that her pussy became very well used, and then he’d come in and fucked the cunt in her back door, just once, just to get one last piece of ass off the bitch.  He’d purposefully crippled her by almost puncturing her colon before he left a full load in her ass.  Nude body covered in sand, her face driven into the loose sand on the beach where he’d pushed on the back of her head as he rode her ass, he’d left her without any clothes that night, half paralyzed, crying softly and babbling in Spanish. 

Whether as a taunt or a lesson, he wasn’t sure. 

He pictured the two Japanese sisters he had taken off a beach in Buenos Aires and how submissive they had been from the very beginning.  They had been eighteen and twenty years old and had brought over $60,000 since he’d sold them as a matched pair. 

They both had been secretaries, but a little later he’d found out they now starred in certain underground films and it was rumored they quite enjoyed their trade.  He’d found that these two were different from most Oriental women in that they weren’t bowlegged.  Damn, he hated women with ugly legs.  There should be a law, he thought to himself with a snort of amusement.

He’d made sure both were present as he fucked each of them in the cabin of the boat, but he didn’t enjoy them quite as much as he’d hoped.  Part of that he thought might have been due to their yielding so quickly to his will.  It was then that he’d discovered another truth about himself. 

He didn’t particularly care to physically hurt his women, but he immensely enjoyed the looks on their faces when after a long fight, they realized for the first time that they truly were his property and would never be free again.  That look of broken will in their eyes; the utter subjugation that their posture screamed to the knowledgeable was worth all of the other bullshit with which he put up. 

In any case, these two were almost too easy and it was with pleasure he got rid of them. 

He remembered the two different times that he had been able to grab brides on their wedding day.  To reduce the inevitable bad publicity that must follow such potentially high profile kidnappings, the corrupt and incompetent local police had each time performed a quick investigation and then hastily reported that the brides had decided not to go through with their weddings because of nerves. 

To the world, after a week of fruitless, and incompetent police work, the official verdict was that it seemed they had simply decided to run away. 

In other words, it was all the fault of the women….

But he knew the truth!  As did the grooms.  Both men vehemently denied that their fiancées had run away or departed voluntarily.  But after a couple of weeks of interest from reporters without anything new to report, the stories had died down, just as he had known they would. 

Both brides had been beautiful women, one a twenty-eight year old Brazilian, the other a twenty-year old Australian.  He’d taken them straight out of the hotel rooms on the afternoon in which they’d actually been dressing for the wedding.  He assumed they loved their husbands-to-be, but he still savored the look of absolute horror on their faces as he was the first one to lift their bridal dress and go down on them on their wedding night, instead of their new husbands.  It had been one of life’s delicious ironies that it had been him to slowly remove their wedding garters before initiating them into their new life of slavery. 

Both had been indoctrinated while wearing mainly bridal lingerie; it had been his little attempt at humor even though the two brides had not taken it particularly well.  It had taken him four weeks to fully train each to his complete satisfaction.  He’d quickly become bored with the Brazilian bitch, though he’d kept the Australian for almost two months. 

She’d been a very special case; loved her accent and the way she talked, especially when he’d taken her to the verge of cumming.  Truly a beautiful girl….and ultimately, so responsive to his every need.  He was pretty sure she had never talked to her fiancé that way.  And now she responded in bed to another man, unless he too had sold her ass in one of the island’s flesh markets. 

He would never sell another woman to the man who had purchased this one. 

Right now, there was an active but little known sex trade going on in the Caribbean, and he was a major part of it.  He took these women, trained them and then sold them.  Ironically, surprisingly, many came to care for him, or at least said they did.  In the end, he always explained to each of them that they were not his friends, not his partner, and they were not comrades in any way.  It was purely a business relationship in which they provided a temporary benefit but represented a potentially ongoing cost.  The less the outcry when he kidnapped them was additional benefit, while the time spent training them increased their cost to him.  Nothing but business despite their tears, cost versus benefit…..

He was a serious man, a thoughtful man, a strong man.  His men followed him because of this.  Yet he was a man of many facets too.  Sometimes he had moments of lightness.  With all the women he’d taken, he sometimes thought of himself as Captain Luv or even the Slow Cosby.  When he had sex during these times, he sometimes drew the syllables and consonants of these names out like a black crooner.  It was a childish foible, but he indulged himself nonetheless.  The look upon their faces when he did this was always priceless. 

Other times, he suffered from a darker side, probably brought on by the head injuries of his youth.  There was a mania which descended upon him which depended upon the circumstances, on how severely temptation beckoned.  There was literally no way to tell ahead of time.  The mania had fooled him more than one time, bursting into life when peace should have reigned.  In these times, when he took them, it compelled him and he hurt some of them. 

He thought of them all as his victims.  Despite having been kidnapped, most of them responded to him in the end.  He worked hard at satisfying them and he was good at sex, very very good at sex.  The ones who responded the best, he thought of as his lucky victims for they always got more in the end than they wanted, more than they likely had ever dreamed of.  These were the ones who were always sated when he finally finished them, before he passed them on.  He saw to that—he kept working until they were.  And in the end, he was as generous a lover as he was patient.  It was the only time he was ever careful with a female that way. 

Over the last eighteen months, he had already acquired for his own use a very nice redhead from Ireland and a tasty brunette from France.  But his current principle’s tastes ran to young and hot, yet naïve blondes from North America and Victoria seemed the perfect answer to the most recent order the wealthy man had put in.  As with all the others, when these tourist girls disappeared, if the snatch was done correctly, the search would generally last for no more than a few weeks before the excitement died down, so the business had really been quite profitable.

He felt the odd little rush he felt whenever he had successfully invaded another’s private space, whether physical or online or mental.  Victoria’s future was rather grim.  Once trained and delivered, if she pleased her new owner, she would be kept around for the foreseeable future or at least until her looks were gone; he knew for a fact that females used strictly for physical pleasure in this way tended to age quickly when getting their guts fucked out day after day after day.  Especially when you combined that with the continual physical and emotional punishments inflicted upon these women.  And if she did not please her owner enough, in a couple of years she would be sold to any one of a hundred anonymous brothels that existed in the shitty cities of South and Central America.

Once she’d been sold a second time, he knew her new pimp would immediately hook her on heroin or crack, the better to control her, and then put her in a locked room and force her to sell her ass.  All the men here wanted to fuck pretty young blonde American girls, so there would be no end of customers. 

She’d also probably be sold from one pimp to another, and after a few more years when her looks were finally gone, she’d be reduced to offering blowjobs on back streets just to survive.  None of the girls he’d provided over the years had ever wanted to go back home once they’d been reduced to that state.

They were now over 180 miles away from where Vicki had been “recruited” and the local police there were just now beginning to be aware that there might even be a problem.  The boat was anchored facing shore, so that no one could see anything on the back of the boat.  When needed, the runabout would go ashore on the other side of the island and pick up supplies at the small store there.

Victoria had briefly regained consciousness while it was still dark.  Her mouth tasted like hell and her head hurt.  She was on some kind of a hammock she thought, since there was a rhythmic motion that had almost immediately lulled her back to sleep.

Day One: The Prize Is Softened

This just didn’t happen to girls like me.  This just didn’t happen to anyone.

-Jenna-Lynne Duncane, in Hurricane

To the sexual offender, possession is power, and total possession is absolute power.

-Stephen G. Michaud, The Evil That Men Do: FBI Profiler Roy Hazelwood's Journey into the Minds of Serial Killers

When I next awoke, I was disoriented and nauseated.  Somehow I knew it was morning, but had no idea what day it was.  My body felt like a block of lead, and for some reasons my shoulders and hips ached.  My mouth tasted awful.  This was worse than the worst of hangovers I’d experienced in Cancun. 

There was a bright, almost stabbing sunlight shining through a couple of small portholes immediately over my head, and the room spun and jittered with every move I made.  Without thinking, a heart-felt groan of discomfort bubbled up from my core.  I took deep breaths and slowly the walls stopped their spinning. 

Even though my mouth felt as if was filled with saliva, my lips felt dry and parched.  I tried to smack my lips together a couple of times since my mouth tasted awful, but I seemed to have difficulty doing so and my jaws ached.  It was when I tried to rise off of the bed that I realized for the first time that my hands were bound to the head of the bed.  At that point, I drifted off into another hazy interlude. 

I awakened again, and not sure what had happened, I turned and twisted my head in order to look but it felt like my head was too heavy for my shoulders.  But after a moment I tried again and after my eyes had finally focused, I saw wide leather straps around each wrist that were tied to the head of the bed.  First a wave of queasiness rolled over me, instantly this was followed by a rush that coursed through my blood, like a narcotic had flooded into my veins. 

Immediately filled with panic, I began to struggle and that was when I found that my ankles were tied about five feet apart to posts at the foot of the bed.  My hips were killing me from having my legs spread wide like this for what must have been hours while I was unconscious.  For some reason my anus hurt and when I looked down at my feet, I realized in shock that except for my beautiful sandals, I was also naked.

I felt my mind fracture, felt pieces fall away.  A sudden fever burned through me…  A for-real thrill of terror ran through my spine now and I began struggling frantically against my bonds.  Because I had been tied so tightly, there was little slack for me to maneuver.  My struggles forced me to breathe strongly through my nose and it was this realization that told me I had been gagged.  My nipples were stiff now from my exertions and I was quickly covered with a light sheen of perspiration both from the humidity and my fear.

Wait!  WAIT!!  You stupid girl!  Calm down, Victoria.  This has to be a nightmare, I thought.  I’m going to wake up in the morning and laugh about this.  This can’t really be happening.  It’s like something out of a cheap romance—or a horror novel. 

I was snorting for air when I finally stopped struggling and even though my head still hurt, I began to think.  I tested my bonds one at a time.  It was hopeless.  I finally realized I wasn’t getting out of this on my own.  An inexplicable chill ran through me.  Another slow, controlled breath helped me overcome it.  Nothing mattered.  I had only myself to save me.  No daydreaming.  No false hope.  No reliance on the abstract.  One hour at a time.  Think.  Plan.  Act.

It was then I noticed an odd burning smell and felt an additional fear try to take hold.  I could see myself tied helplessly to this bed while everything burned down around me.  I closed my eyes again and forced myself to take even, deep, calming breaths.

Eventually I began to look around the cabin.  There was a small dresser fastened to the wall with a mirror on the wall behind it, a couch was set against the wall and two wooden chairs were anchored to the floor around a small table in the corner; it was then that I saw the man sitting motionless in one of the chairs.  He was like a huge statue, medium brown in color and with muscles jutting out all over his body.

I froze at the first sight of him and then felt an uncontrolled shudder run through my body as I looked away.  As I jerked at my bonds, I thought about what I had seen.  He was an old man, probably a maniac, a convicted criminal of some sort.  Another deep thrill of fear ran down my spine.  He was definitely a degenerate peeping tom.

The thought brought my mind to a standstill—he was also probably a sex maniac if my luck held, and clearly some kind of pervert.  He was old, old---at least fifty, fifty-five years old, his face was broad and heavy, and seemed sodden with dark, brooding thought.  Under bushy brows his eyes were nothing but dark gleams of fire.  He had lines and wrinkles but they were hard to make out for one half of his face appeared normal, even handsome—to a fifty year old woman maybe--but an intricate tattoo decorated much of the other half. 

I was hyper-ventilating through my nostrils.  I closed my eyes to help better recall what I had seen, but it didn’t help much.  All I remembered was that the pattern was complex, professionally designed and skillfully applied; it gave him a fierce, almost demonic look.  He looked like a black Lucifer of some kind.  It was clear that the tattoo was a mask meant to stop other’s eyes from seeing what lay beneath.  In a later moment of unguarded truth, he later told me the tattoo covered damage done to him in his youth by an angry father when he had first begun trafficking in young women. 

Suddenly, reality roared back and, my mind filled with a chaotic deafening sound which paralyzed me, the sight of this unknown man brought fresh paroxysms of struggles, again to no avail.  I was naked, why was I naked?  Why was he here?  Why was I here?  Why were they doing this to me?  God, please help me!! I was only nineteen, barely out of high school.  Please God!!

Nothing made sense.  My mind was still filled with chaotic roaring, buzzing sounds only I could hear and I couldn’t think.  I could not reconcile his presence here in my mind….for that matter, I could not reconcile MY presence here. 

I writhed again, trying to cover myself a little more—I failed again and suddenly I understood.  I was trapped and we both knew it.

You see in others who you are.

-Bernard Malamud

The Bossman sat in the chair for another five minutes without saying a word, just watching Victoria, his beautiful new prize.  He could tell that being naked in front of a strange, unfamiliar black man totally terrified her….as planned.  It also humiliated her too.  He watched as she writhed slowly, trying to achieve a position in which her vagina was covered, but as he had planned from the beginning, she was unsuccessful in her attempts at modesty. 

Well-conditioned by her culture, although not her fault and even as petrified as she was with fear, it was obvious the blonde captive’s nakedness still shamed her; she could not know that her inability to cover her nakedness was part of his plan.  He watched as her eyes darted to various parts of the cabin, as if there might be a rescuer hiding in one of the corners if only she could find him. 

Generally, he was not a man who liked to rush the taking of a woman.  A perfectly planned job was like a seduction in some ways.  Hours spent looking, wanting, turning the target around in his mind.  And then, he moved closer, maybe even brushing past, making contact, just to see what would happen.  And when everything was ready, everything was right, all of that preparation paid off in one sudden moment. 

The team had taken photographs of the younger female tourists then currently available on Cancun.  All of them together had then winnowed that group down to the fifteen best-looking single, white women, and had forwarded these to the “Principle”.  Upon reviewing at the photos, it was clear that Victoria was the cream of this crop and the man had put in his order accordingly. 

Once the choice had been made, the team had followed her day and night during the remainder of her vacation.  When she walked into a clothing store, they knew her dress size thirty minutes later.  After she had visited multiple stores, they were aware of her every measurement including shoe size. 

Being confident of their skillset regarding acquisition, they had purchased clothing and lingerie for Vicki, as well as numerous other things.  Given the opportunity, they planned on ensuring she would be a well-trained slut when they were finished—quite well trained indeed!

The man in the chair finally gave her a slight smile and said, “Good morning, Victoria.  Listen to me….and listen carefully.  How your next few weeks go depends solely upon you.”

Bossman had watched her reactions as she awakened and had seen nothing different from any of the females he had previously taken.  At the same time, he also knew that each woman had to be treated differently—he didn’t need to see into these women’s souls.  He owned them.  After taking so many women, he had become something of an expert in the psychology of turning unwilling ‘recruits’ into willing slaves.  He thought back to the last meeting of his team just before they’d kidnapped the blonde teenager; it was then that they’d finally decided how she would be handled.

He was known for providing top of the line females to his clients and he prided himself on his reputation in this niche market.  He’d made a lot of money doing this, but actually it was as much a sport for him as it was a business.  In addition to his formal training, he was a natural psychologist and he’d spent a lot more time just learning about people in general.  He used this knowledge when analyzing the women he took; this was why he was always so successful.  But he’d have been this analytical anyway, whether or not he was a slaver---because this was his nature.

Bossman knew everyone has beliefs.  The more central these beliefs are to the idea of who we are, the more difficult they are to change.  But if that central belief is changed, the greater the effect on that person.  If he could force a change in this teenager’s view of herself more towards what he desired, the more profound effect he would have on all of her related beliefs and values.

It would take controlling everything around the girl because he was most successful in an environment of complete coercion.  Finally, he was aware that people are most likely to change when fed a line of bullshit that is consistent with what they see as their own values.

The act of creating a good slave always consisted of two parts.  Depending upon the individual female and what he did, breaking their will to resist generally took less than one day to three or four days.  Breaking them consisted of subjecting the female to pure and simple physical and sexual torture under controlled conditions, all of which continued non-stop until the recruit broke.  Sometimes he joined in on the initial part of this stage, but after that he tended to maintain a distance from the “prize,” all the while allowing his crew full access but always under his specific directions and control. 

The second phase took place after the subject had been physically and sexually broken.  This was where he began the psychological manipulations with which he had been so successful.  He took a young woman who had generally been protected her whole life, a woman who had been taught from birth that all people were equal and had equal rights, and that good things happened to good people, and he turned her into a compliant and even enthusiastic slut who willingly did anything her Master might order.  He rarely participated in either physical or sexual activities with the slave during this stage since it tended to defeat his purposes.

Russia had experimented with ‘brain washing’ drugs from the ‘50s to the ‘70s.  While their military had not followed up on this research, some of their government labs had greatly advanced this science in the last fifteen or twenty years.  He had obtained the advanced psychoactive drugs that he used on his recruits from a couple of Russian expatriates he knew in Cuba.  He’d found these ‘friendship’ drugs rather helpful because they suppressed a woman’s natural inclinations and emotional defenses and opened their minds to points-of-view that were radically different from what they might normally feel. 

Regardless of what might be read in fiction, most people aren’t too enthusiastic about being mentally reprogrammed by another and tended to fight it every step of the way.  He’d been using these drugs for the last fifteen years and they were a true marvel; his subjects had no idea they were getting them with their morning supplements. 

Best of all, after two or three days the full effect of the drug really screwed the bitches up.  They became confused and didn’t know what was going on in their heads; they’d feel both pleasure and fear at the same time when they saw his men, they’d want to please the men and at the same time want to fail in their training.  They’d be unhappy at disappointing his men, yet unconsciously trying to undermine them at the same time. 

It fucked their minds up, and he found it delicious watching the women try to figure out what the hell was happening to them.  But over time, the drugs really worked---damn did they work.  Once he’d switched over to using them, he’d multiplied by ten-fold the effects of his psychological and physical manipulations---and that alone made his work both easier and resulted in a much higher success rate.  His income had at least quadrupled with these drugs.

At the same time he used these “friendship” drugs and denied his captive her sleep, the female was also subjected to unusually intense and prolonged periods of physical and sexual “persuasion”.  This sex had nothing to do with eroticism and everything to do with demonstrating absolute power over the captive.  Coercion, domination and humiliation in equal portions, all the time.  As time progressed, these stages became longer and increasingly aggressive as the crew followed the menu that he’d laid out. 

Ultimately, the vast majority of women quickly realized they were in a situation from which there was no escape; they were isolated on the boat and brutally forced into modifying their behavior.  The finality of this realization and its impact on their psyche was important in both initially breaking them and ultimately training them.

To help drive home the finality of their situation, he kept them gagged during this initial period except for the short time when they were allowed to eat or drink.  Even then, they were threatened to not say a word unless answering a question.  If they did, they were punished severely.  These girls were not allowed to give up too early---for psychological purposes, it was critically important that the female only surrender on his terms and not hers. 

Even though the women did not know this, to hammer this point home, he ensured the recruit’s sexual torture and pain continued for many long hours after their victim had finally given up all hope of ever being saved—it was only in this psychological extremity that he felt he could achieve the perfect Realization.  Here, he used the word as a noun rather than a verb.  For him, a woman’s realization was the end of one phase and the beginning of another.  It was much more of a place of the mind than an act. 

He’d found it was only by this act of realization that the slave truly understood, at a “gut level,” what had happened to her.  Physical defeat was not enough.  Her will to fight also had to be totally crushed early in her new role as a slave.  It was only by grinding his captive into emotional and psychological dust that she reached a place where his victim finally understand that she began her new life at the very bottom.  That she only earned relief from their torture by her continued and increasingly acceptable behavior.  This was their moment of realization. 

Once he broke them, their training began, albeit still accompanied with continuing coercive techniques.  Emphasizing this new stage, he now took away anything signifying their individuality and which might give them emotional sustenance.  He allowed nothing from their previous life that might give them support in any way at the same time they were forced to participate in continually more intensely sexual acts and scenarios. 

The cruder and more extreme behaviors in which they were forced to participate were chosen because of their “foreignness” to the victim.  Consequently, these acts were also considered both demeaning and degrading to all but a small percentage of them.  The more he forced them to buy into what they were doing, the more he could accelerate their forcible indoctrination.

At the same time he began to increase the dosage of drugs his captives received, he also began coercive reprogramming of the female’s beliefs.  It was at this point he really started to get inside their heads.  The one thing which he could always depend upon was the fact that each woman always had something which shamed them--some little act or peculiarity of character---something about themselves that they kept from everyone else. 

There were also things they kept even from themselves---everyone lied to themselves about something.  He dug and he pried until he had figured out what it was.  Then, with these tiny little things at tools, he would attack their beliefs about themselves and the world around them.  If all went well, by the end of ten to fourteen days, in addition to being a well-trained piece of ass, most of his women had adopted the majority, if not all of his perspectives on sexuality and relationships.  He’d reprogrammed them. 

He’d proved this to his satisfaction time and time again; so much of sex and sexuality was in the mind, not the body.  And when he was successful, at this point they would want to do just about anything a man demanded just to please the man.

The four men in his crew were not so much similar in appearance as they were in inclination.  Uneducated men, they liked danger, violence and money.  They got all of this with him.  But mostly they liked the lazy days on the boat where they had full access to the beautiful young women who would never have taken one look at them under normal circumstances. 

So, once he’d taken the newly acquired woman on an unexpected psychological journey to the point where she’d begun some rather deep introspection about her values and worth, the rest of his crew’s time was spent both in training her in new sexual techniques and in reinforcing her new beliefs. 

Above all else, Bossman firmly believed in aggressively reinforcing the aspect of ‘total submission’.  There were minor acts and major acts of submission demanded of all of his women during this part of their re-education.  Again and again, he put his recruits into terribly demeaning physical, psychological and emotional situations; situations which demanded complete and total submission to a man, her new Master. 

But while each act of submission was carefully thought out to ensure that it allowed the recipient to successfully face increasingly higher levels of pain and humiliation, the men of his crew were only human.  The women being trained were always beautiful and sometimes when they didn’t cooperate, the men became angry or a little too enthusiastic in their training; they strayed a little too far from the boundaries he’d set.  At that point, he was forced to quickly improvise as he incorporated into his training whatever stupid thing the men might have done.

As for the teenage blonde called Victoria, while there were some very specific things he had to do, the program would end with her being eventually broken.  Of this, he had absolutely no doubt.  As her training progressed after that, almost every act of submission would be demanded, no matter how small.  And no matter how much she “gave” to them, no matter how many times she cooperated, each performance would be judged as unacceptable, each episode would ultimately still always end badly for her, would require that ever more humiliations be demanded of her.  She wouldn’t be allowed to succeed at anything, but she would also learn that not giving in to their demands was even worse. 

And at the same time, her ongoing psychological training would ensure that the urge to cooperate with her captors became more and more compelling.  The ultimate test would be to see if she would submit to a man’s will even if she understood that doing so threatened her life.

Continuing his train of thought, the Bossman said aloud to his victim, “We know everything about you.  But what you need to know is that your life has just taken a big-time change.  You’re not your mother’s daughter now and you’re not your daddy’s little girl anymore.  You’re not a teenager going to college anymore and there’s no boyfriend or super hero coming through that door to save you.  No one knows you’re here and in a week or so, no one will care about you anymore.  And in a week---you won’t want anyone rescuing you.”

I was amazed as people must be who are seized and kidnapped, and who realize that in the strange world of their captors they have a value absolutely unconnected with anything they know about themselves.”

-Alice Munro, in Lives of Girls and Women

He spoke with a trace of a Caribbean accent, but one blunted by years away from home.  I struggled briefly, absolutely freaked out all of this, by what was happening.  My eyes filled with tears at my frustration and fear, and I wouldn’t, I just couldn’t look at him now.  I wanted to leap off the bed, race screaming up the stairs and throw myself over railing—I wanted to swim to the nearest shore wherever that was and report this monster to the police.  But I couldn’t.  The way I was tied, I wasn’t able to free myself or fight him.  But I knew that if I ignored him, I could maybe somehow pretend to myself that he wasn’t there.

Sand on the beach, make a hole for my head!!!

He continued and without thinking, my gaze went back to his impassive face.  “Girl, there is an eternal sexual dance that all of us go through, but which women feel that men simplify and look at all romantic things as either strategy or obligation.” 

I struggled to cover my nakedness again as chills ran down my back.  What the hell was he talking about?  Yeah, he really did talk too much.  My anger ebbed as an existential fear suddenly washed over me and my stomach turned into a hard ball.  Incomprehensible shock and anger were suddenly replaced by true fear. 

“But”, he stated, “I’m also going to show you there’s a seductive power found by women, found in women, when they embrace the inexplicable with utter abandon.  You’re eighteen, nineteen, and your oh-so protected life so far hasn’t yet taught you this, but the mind is the most sensitive and responsive sexual organ in the human body.  I’ve had to take away your options at life because I’m going to help you find and embrace the future…that for you…is inevitable.”

“As a teenager, I’m sure you’ve read those ridiculous novels written about seduction fantasies--but you always knew that they were just that, fantasies.  But here.  On this boat.  Now.  This is really happening.  The reality here, your new reality, is that I’ll have your body no matter what you do, no matter how much you fight me.  But it’s your mind that I’m really after.  You’d better understand that from the very beginning.  I own you now, but I’ll OWN you when I’m done with you.”

Even though helpless, my chin came up in denial.  I was owned by no man!!

Seeing this, he stopped for a moment, and then continued with a small smile on his face, “The simple truth is that you’ve been “recruited” as a sex slave for one of my clients—in the vernacular of my trade, you’re a piece of ass now.  And in the next couple of week, you’ll be trained for him by us.  I prefer obedience to independent thought; it’s so much less work for me in the long run.  So---you can either fight me, and you’ll lose with a lot of pain involved on your part, or you can give me what I want now, with minimal pain; your choice.”

I felt my head shaking back and forth in helpless terror.  I frantically jerked at my wrists again and then struggled to free my ankles—nothing worked.  I felt sweat trickling from my hairline and another drop of sweat run from my naked chest over my rib cage.  Finally, I lay there on the bed panting for breath through my nose as he went on in his horrific, totally confident monotone.

“I have no doubt that you are like every other teenage girl alive.  That you’ve had fantasies you‘ve never told to anyone else.  Well, that ends here.  We’re going to teach you to embrace the fine line that separates your dark fantasies from reality.  We’re going to help you to blur those boundaries ahead of time, and help you see what happens.  Many popular girls your age are wanton sluts---I blame the MTV genre for that.  The rest however, are fit only to work in libraries.  You however, on the surface seem to be different from all of them; beautiful, yet shy.  Naturally sexy, yet truly naïve about your effect on men.  But I’m going to take pleasure in proving to you that you are just as much a creature of sex as the sluts are.”

 

He shook his head in frustration.  “Young people like you just don’t understand.  Our lives are connected by a thousand invisible threads.  In these sympathetic fibers, our actions run along these as causes and return as results.  Think about that, Victoria!  What this means is that nothing is coincidence, fate is real.  Do you honestly believe that life is little more than the sum of your choices?  That if you do something often enough that, your reaction changes?  And that these choices define who you are?  I say no.” 

He nodded his head, filled with a crazy certainty.  “Let that thought give you a measure of confidence in the coming weeks and months.  You are who you are, and I am what I am.  And your life only ends one way.  Fate has controlled you from the very beginning.  You have always been meant to be here, now.  Have faith you have found your future.  ”

Insane talk, the talk of a man who needed help.  Again, I tried to twist my wrists free as he talked.  While the black man told me, in detail, what he had planned for me, I had continued my struggles, still unsuccessfully trying to free my hands and feet.  After another moment of utter futility, I stopped and lay on the bed taking deep lungful’s of air through my nose staring at the boat’s ceiling, trying to not to panic at my feelings of suffocation.

As he began talking again, a second man walked into the cabin and stood waiting.  I quickly glanced at him and noticed in a crazy moment of thought that he looked like a black Elvis might at 50 years of age.  Great!  Another pervert!

This second man stared at me, devouring my nakedness.  I blushed again at the intensity of his gaze.  Unconsciously, I tried to cover myself again, but it still didn’t help.  My nakedness humiliated me, as much as my helplessness infuriated me. 

I breathed out, then inhaled again shakily as the big man continued, “You know, to seduce a man, women will wear a pair of killer heels in bed, maybe a teddy or a mask; maybe change the way she holds herself as he watches.  The line moves forward, the dance changes tempo, the props evolve with it.  Suddenly, the music is deliciously dark.  And she has seduced him.”

Without glancing his way, I emerged just a little from my welter of incoherent thoughts and tried to listen.  I tried once more to pull my knees together—what the hell was he talking about?  He was just vomiting words, an old man saying crazy stuff, stuff that would get him arrested in any civilized place.  He was insane, clinically insane!  Had to be.  I had no idea what he was talking about, and here I was, his naked prisoner. 

Like any maniac, he continued his incoherent rambling in the same vein, “But for me to connect with a woman, I’ve found that it’s different.  It’s about knowing how the entire dance relates to your past; your cold and distant father, or perhaps it’s about that one boy that went too far too fast.”

 

Wait, I thought to myself.  What?  What!!  What was he talking about?”  My mind was spinning, I couldn’t think straight.

 

He just wouldn’t stop talking, “It’s about your needs, about me caressing them, taking them and swallowing them whole.  It’s about your fear, which in moderation can be very sweet.” 

 

He was at least fifty.  He was a creepy perv.  A dirty, perverted old man.  No, I screamed in my mind.  No!  There would be no caressing, no swallowing anything!

His face and voice were serious, he actually meant what he was saying!  “Victoria, you’re too naïve to know this yet, but I… Really.  Don’t.  Care.  Soon you’ll be pretending I’m just some dark forbidden pleasure---you won’t be able to help yourself.  But in reality, what I’m going to be doing is feeding your demons; and these things are never going away.  You’ll always have them and you’ll always be mine.”

Forbidden pleasure?  Demons?  Even if I couldn’t protect myself from this creepy maniac, I still continued to avert my face from him.  But his first comment finally registered as my mind spun madly, trying to get traction.  It made me to look at him again.  Oh my God, I thought to myself, how did he know about my one experiment with sex?  How could he know just how unfulfilling and just down right unpleasant it had been? 

I felt of myself in a way as a romantic.  I’d even thought I might be a sexual person if just given the opportunity.  But I’d shut myself off after that one time and had not yet met anyone that I felt I might be comfortable with. 

 

The Bossman looked at the blonde and smiled to himself.  A girl this stupid would almost be too easy.  He thought for a moment and then spoke again.  “You’re young, haven’t been beaten up by the world much yet.  You might even see yourself as the kind of person who’s selfless, always wanting to give to others.” 

He smiled a sort of dirty old man smile as he said, “You won’t understand this yet and I know you won’t believe me when I tell you my demands are eventually going to be intoxicating for someone like you.  But soon you will—and you won’t be able to help yourself.  You’re too young and too inexperienced to understand yourself yet---you don’t understand your needs and when you feel their demands they frighten you sometimes.” 

“A girl like you?  With your looks?  You’re gonna hate it and you’re gonna love it.  Being a sexual creature--it’s a balancing act you’ll experience, half way between worship and consumption, between possession and obsession, both absorbing and devouring the things that inflame your lust.  I’m gonna show you the unlimited ecstasy which comes with willingly handing over everything, your spirit and self-control, your anguish and your body, to a dark lover.  A man who causes your pain, yet who licks away your tears even while he puts you in a protective embrace.”

 

Her beautiful eyes were huge and she still shook her head.  Her wild eyes told him he was crazy.  He snorted.  Most of them reacted just like this at first.  But they all came around eventually.  They all ended up willingly spreading for him, letting him do almost anything he wanted to them

He nodded his head eloquently, perceptively.  “I’ll know what you need the moment you need it and I’ll give it to you in ways you never imagined, in ways which transcend all those books you’ve read and even more, anything that you could have dreamed.”

At the same time, in his mind he was thinking, you poor, stupid teenage girl.  I could almost pity you.  You’ll eventually understand that what you’ve given me when I’m done with you is everything you are.  I already have your body, but what I really want is your mind and your soul.  How frightened would you be if you knew I’ve already taken a hundred women like you and broken them all?  That every one of them has given me exactly what I wanted, exactly what I needed?  That I’m good at my job and I enjoy it—I just wish I could tell you how very much I enjoy it.  How I KNOW that a young woman with your kind of looks was put on this earth for only one reason, and that’s to give pleasure to a man.  That inexperienced bitches like you should not be allowed to squander your body on just any man, but needs to be subdued and domesticated like any other wild animal, and then savored and enjoyed by the right man.  A man who will appreciate your beauty and your youth, one who will choose when and how and where he takes you and who will then choose, maybe, to share your beauty with others of his kind.  And if you learn nothing else, I promise you, you’ll learn to obey and to give pleasure.

 

I pretty much ignored most of what he said at the end.  I laid on the bed and writhed in anger and frustration, in terror and humiliation.  My face felt on fire from the blood rushing to it as I barely listened to this man talk about things I didn’t understood, things that I did not want to understand.  He wasn’t going to absorb me and there was no way I would ever willingly cooperate with him---in anything!!  Whatever he wanted, he would have to take by force and it would be against my will in every way and forever.  I would fight him to my last breath. 

Bossman continued speaking as his chocolate-smooth voice dropped an octave.  “It may take a day or two, but I’m going to show you that it’s all about you giving, while you continue to tell yourself that I’m taking.  In the end, it’s about intimacy, about you and me wallowing in naked honesty….”

Naked honesty?  My outraged gaze snapped back to his face as I screamed incomprehensible obscenities at him through the rubber which filled my mouth. 

“……..about you not being alone with your fright and your distress and your pain.  You have fears and needs, and once I have broken and trained you, you’ll want to lose yourself in that desire, to offer me the gift of your suffering….and the more dismal the better, because there, in the darkness you will pretend that you have no accountability for your own cravings, there you are a little girl again and a victim of your own beauty.  And I’ll be there to save you from yourself and to give your life meaning.”

Bossman looked at her, deep into her eyes as he said with an enigmatic smile, “In the end, to do this to you is in a way really very simple.  There are only two things I need to discover and then take from you.  One; what is it that you hide from us?  With ones like you, there is always something, one small critical thing that you hide from others.  The other is what do you hide from yourself?  There are always things about which we lie to ourselves; what is it that you keep secret even from yourself?  You may not even be aware of these things yet yourself.  But as soon as I approach them, you will immediately know how valuable they are to you---and to me.  You will fight me, you will try to deceive, but in the end you will fail at that too.”

“Once I discover what you wish above all else to be kept hidden from us, you’ll have given me the lever to move your world.  And when I strip away that cloak of familiarity which allows you to lie to yourself, you’ll have no place left to run to or hide when all of your other beliefs about yourself come crashing down around you.”

My mind focused a little as he spoke, but my emotions still ran unchecked, my anxiety and fear remained undiminished.  I was being held captive, naked, by this crazy man.  I knew he was absolutely insane.  He just had to be.  But insane people can hurt you as much as the sane.  Regardless of what happened, he…he was unsettling.  Even more distressing, his words actually seemed to mean something to him.  It was as if he was speaking a language only he understood.  That it had meaning to him and to others even, but I was the only one who didn’t understand, who wasn’t educated enough to understand what he was really saying to me. 

He spoke like one of my college professors, like my Behavioral Psych prof—I had hated that man for some reason.  Chills ran down my spine and I felt the hair rise on the back of my neck as these thoughts scared me all over again.  

“And by doing this, I will push you through the biggest turmoil you have ever faced.  What you eventually do here, for us, will be of far greater significance to you than being kidnapped.  It will mean that you will have to change your view of me and you and your whole world.  What you get here will be the equivalent of a cosmic mid-life crisis.  I’ll change your beliefs about yourself.  I’ll change your values and the way that you want to behave---and there’s nothing you can do to stop us.”

The dark man shook his head at the young girl’s feeble attempts to first free herself and when that failed, as it must, to then cover her complete nakedness.  Stupidly, she continued the same unsuccessful attempts to cover her nakedness over and over again. 

“Shit, woman, know this.  You can’t escape from me.  If you try, you’ll find that you need to swim, a lot.  And even if you did somehow manage to get away, do you believe I would allow your family to also be that lucky?”

Bossman stopped for a second, an annoyed look on his face.  He slapped the ankle closest to him, the one she had been pulling and tugging with. “And stop trying to get yourself free.  Ain’t happening.” 

He shook his head but put the inscrutable smile on again, “Police can’t protect all of them forever.  You belong to me; and I will have your body.  But if necessary, I promise that we’ll kill your father, and have your mother and your aunt here inside of twenty-four hours and then they’ll take your place on this bed.”

“I often find that people care about the lives of loved ones than they do their own.”  He gave a small shrug, “Aren’t people funny?” 

My parents?  My family?  The thoughts of harm coming to them shocked Vicki, shocked her to the core.  I…what….I…..  Even in her mind, she stammered.  He can’t hurt them!  He—they—can’t be allowed to hurt them.  I…I won’t allow it!  The resolve she felt at that moment, the purpose, was the first really familiar emotion she’d experienced in the last couple of hours.  Vicki rotated her hips and ankles again in an increasingly familiar failure to accomplish anything.  She didn’t really think she’d accomplish anything, but she wasn’t the type of girl to give up.

His captive looked into his fierce brown eyes and she believed.

“Of course” he leaned back into his chair, “You can always try to commit suicide.  But that’s not really an option for a good Catholic girl like you, is it?”  

The girls are usually branded impersonally, perfunctorily, as cattle.  Though they feel the mark intensely physically, it is felt, interestingly, even more intensely, more profoundly, psychologically; not unoften it, in itself, radically transforms their self-images, their personalities.  They are only slaves, not permitted their own wills, rightless, at the bidding of masters; the mark is an impersonal designation and this is understood by the girls.  When she is marked she understands herself not to be marked by a given man for a given man, to be uniquely his, but rather, so to speak, that she is marked for all men.  To all men she is a slave girl.  Usually, of course, only one among them, at a given time, will be her master.  The brand is impersonal, the brand marks her as property.  The brand is impersonal, the collar is intensely personal.  The brand marks her property, the collar proclaims whose property she is, who it is who has actually taken, or paid for, her.  That the brand is an impersonal designation of absence of status in the social structure is perhaps another reason why masters do not often brand their own girls.

-Tribesmen of Gor - Page 42

The blonde teenager ignored his jibe.  For some reason a guilty look came over her face and she refused to look at him.  Bossman gave a quick, unseen nod to his man and while he talked, the other man approached Vic.  “Your future owner has several requirements regarding his newly acquired slaves.”

Without warning or hesitation, he immediately plunged it behind her left ear just below her hairline.  Her whole body arched stiff, Victoria gave an inarticulate cry as she felt an intense burning pain and suddenly smelled burning hair.  When he let go of her hair and withdrew the small branding iron after about five seconds, her green eyes were bulging in shock and pain as she looked at him again.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait, wait, wait, stop!

-Gary, in The Muppets

He’d branded me.  He’d had me branded!  Part of me was in shock, part of me was filled with disbelief.  I’d been branded like a cow—I couldn’t believe it!  I hadn’t even had time to begin crying and the act was already complete.  I forgot about my nakedness, and as I looked at him, my eyes flooded and then tears of pain fell on my cheeks.  As I began to cry, I blushed too with my embarrassment at crying.  Finally, a burning rage began to build inside of me. 

This just can’t be happening to me, I thought as I raged uselessly once more against my bonds.  This just isn’t possible in this day and age.

Without another word, Elvis then climbed on the bed and straddled my stomach.  His weight made it almost impossible for me to expand my chest to breath and it totally immobilized me.  I couldn’t breathe and panic filled me!  I began to struggle weakly, but the two men just ignored me.  Reaching just above my head, he removed a rubber glove and put it on his right hand.  Holding that hand clear, he then used his left hand to slap first my right breast and then my left. 

Grabbing my left breast and roughly immobilizing my nipple between his left forefinger and thumb, Elvis smiled at the black man and said, “That’s very nice”.  Reaching just above my head again, but now with his gloved right hand, he pulled out something about the size of a large Bobbie pin and without hesitation, drove it from the outside to the inside of the base of my nipple, completely piercing my left breast.  I bucked shocked surprise and shrieked my pain through the gag, resulting in a surprisingly loud howl of wordless anguish.

Still keeping me pinned with his body, the man left in the first needle piercing my breast.  He reached up to grab a second one and proceeded to pierce my right nipple in the same manner.  I was gasping and huffing for breath now, choking with the saliva that was accumulating behind my gag, trying at the same time to blink away the tears of pain that were streaming from my eyes.  The pain in each nipple was both sharp and intense and wouldn’t go away.  It just seemed to build and build.  Or perhaps it was in my mind, I just don’t know.  However, I was heavily sweating now from head to foot and I found it even more difficult to get enough air.

Little blood leaked from the small punctures in the blonde’s breasts and without a word, Elvis withdrew the needle from the teenager’s left nipple and, accompanied by muffled feminine huffing sounds, pushed a fine, one-inch diameter gold ring through the hole left behind.  There was a one-inch ring on one end of the bar, while the other end was threaded.  Turning to her right breast, he pierced that nipple too.  The cunt now had a ring through each nipple.  He closed each ring and finally put a drop of liquid-gold solder on each gap, effectively locking each ring into the bitch’s breasts. 

She was glaring at him now through teary eyes, sniffing when her nose ran too much.  Bossman looked at her thoughtfully and said in a soothing tone more appropriate for talking to a two-year old, “This hurts now, but you’ll be OK soon.  We’ve done this before and I guarantee you’ll be healed by the end of the week.”  Standing up and walking over to her, he took a small tube of ointment out of his right pocked and softly rubbed it into soft flesh of each pierced area.

Through the tears that refused to stop, I knew my eyes blazed with rage at what he had just ordered done to me.  No matter what it was, I would die before I gave him satisfaction of any kind.  I turned my face away, refusing to look at him.  If I could just hold on long enough, I knew something must happen that would give me a chance to escape.  My nose was running.  I sniffed in misery. 

Capture a woman's body, you get sex.  Capture a woman's heart, you get love and loyalty.  Capture her mind, you get the woman.  Any Man can bind a woman's flesh, but only a true Master can bind her heart.

-Unknown

Bossman smiled to himself.  Having done this so often before, he could read her flashing eyes like an open book and was not at all worried.  She would never have a chance to get free while on the boat, and by the time he was done with her will, her mind, she wouldn’t be able to hurt a fly.

It had been good start with the nipples and the branding, he thought.  She really was quite naïve.  With this one, her beautiful green eyes were a window to her soul and they let him know at every step just how effective he was and what he had to do next.  It was time to begin. 

He had broken many females before, some as young as or even younger than this one, some older.  With all of these women, there was always a script of some sort he needed to follow.  His experience told him that the psychological aspect was always more important in breaking a woman’s will than was either physical force or intimidation to sap her strength.  And developing that script kept everyone on task, sort of. 

While he knew that he wanted the new blonde, he still hadn’t decided in detail what was required to turn her into what he wanted.  She didn’t seem particularly strong willed, at least at first scan.  But on Cancun his crew had uncovered some interesting facts.  She did have some strong beliefs, particularly about her family; these feelings of loyalty and belonging were rather quaint and old-fashioned and he thought he might be able to take advantage of them.  And while intelligent, she’d been overly protected by her family and as a result was fairly unsophisticated. 

Another interesting tidbit was that while she tended to view herself as modest and shy, perhaps even chaste, there were also instances in which she’d portrayed just the opposite behavior.  Certainly there had been a couple of times in Cancun when to their surprise, the watchers had felt that after a couple of drinks, she’d actually come onto a couple of guys, one at the beach and another at a bar one night.  At the same time, while she’d also dressed in a way that his men had perceived as quite provocative, she had never allowed anything to come of it.  But it was interesting because it seemed anomalous.  To him, there seemed to be a disconnect between how she acted sometimes and how she always saw herself.  Taken together, this tended to suggest she was much more sexually charged than perhaps even she was aware.

Beautiful, yet not overly taken with her looks, at least not more than any other teenager with her upbringing.  More popular than normal, yet not particularly outgoing.  Sexually inexperienced and a little conservative by nature.  Smart, yet naïve, and strongly loyal to her family. There was a ton of shit to work with here, the script almost wrote itself. 

When she had finally been selected, his crew had taken additional pictures and made videos of her on Cancun.  Everything had been emailed to him on the boat.  His first thought when he saw her was how young she had looked.  But, then again, they all looked young to him now.  After viewing the films taken of her by his crew at Cancun and listening to her conversations that had been secretly taped, he decided to follow normal protocols: the crew would isolate her on the boat and would begin to sexually brutalize her.  At the same time, he would also put her on an immediate program of the “friendship” drugs. 

Within reason, all of his men would have free rein with her body.  That kind of sexual deviancy screwed up every woman’s mind.  As usual, the teenager would be gagged and not be allowed to “quit” too early.  She must be forced to experience the full brunt of terror and helplessness; gagged most of the time, she wouldn’t be able beg for mercy or tell anyone how she wanted to cooperate and make it all stop—it only stopped when he said it did.  She would not be allowed to sleep and she would be given the minimum amount of food that would allow her body to still continue functioning. 

There would be no clocks so she would soon become disoriented, losing any sense of time other than daylight and darkness.  She would not be allowed to perform her bodily functions in a normal manner and multiple ways would be found to punish her using her own filth for extended periods.  This last tended to hasten the psychological fracturing of the young and previously protected girls.

Once she’d broken, once she had achieved realization, he would begin his re-education program.  He’d take away her given name to remove any emotional support that it might give her.  As best he could, he would also develop a positive relationship with her—sometimes that was the hardest thing of all to accomplish, other times it was far easier than expected.  To insulate himself as best he could from being seen by the teenager as her main terrorizer, once he’d initiated her, he’d make sure he was not actually involved in most of the follow-up; the physical aspects of breaking her or participating in her day to day sexual reprogramming or training that followed. 

In fact, he would pretty much avoid the girl during her training periods.  He had to be seen as the absent ‘Master’, perhaps only being around afterwards.  A corollary to this he had discovered was that once she was broken, one or two of the men had to be seen as particularly brutal in their training and discipline, while she had to see at least another one of the crewman as being almost supportive or even being worthy of her trust. 

During this initial period, the evil men would be gentle with her every now and then, while the nice man might present himself as supportive one day and abusive the next.  This was all necessary in order to keep her psychologically off balance---confused, she must unlearn any habits of being able to trust her instincts.’

The training program consisted of using force to compel her to perform explicit sexual acts, most of which he was sure that she would initially find both humiliating and degrading.  When she cooperated, she would be rewarded, except for the times when she was punished for not cooperating enough.  At the same time, strong physical and psychological punishments would be used to punish unacceptable behavior.  If she was like the others, the young woman would very quickly devolve, to begin to performing sexually for the men, even as she continued to consider that behavior demeaning and degrading.  Once she’d been started down this road, the level of sexual humiliation would be continually revised upwards.

While physical force was important, probably the main psychological coercion used against her would be her family (continually physically threatening close family members if she was uncooperative, convincing the girl that her family had abandoned her and through conversation, subtly attacking loyalty to family as old-fashioned and perhaps even inappropriate or unwarranted under the circumstances). 

Finally, he would convince her she explicitly presented a sexually conflicted personality.  He would use this to undermine any defense of her conservative sexual core-values in order to bring out what should be the ‘true, more liberated’ her.  Hopefully, this would allow his young captive to eventually view the willingly promiscuous behavior demanded of her as not only acceptable, but perhaps even desirable or ‘freeing.’ 

Taken together as a whole, the reprogramming he put his women through was extremely powerful.  Even if they were educated and knew exactly what was being done to them at that moment, it was generally impossible for the women to fight.  And when the uninitiated were shown later what had been done to them and why, their reaction was invariably that of tears of shame and finally, acceptance of their fate, rather than continuing to fight.

Bottom line: in this kidnapped teenager, he wanted to create both a woman that was submissive, who liked sex if had not become addicted to it and who would also be totally indiscriminate in her behavior at the demand of any she perceived as dominant.  If he was successful, she’d be everything he wanted.  And he had no reason to think he would fail here after he’d been successful so many times in the past.

Like many powerful men, Bossman always reserved first taste for himself.  He now began the dance that would ultimately end with her total subjugation by turning away from her and saying; “I don’t think I like you; I know I don’t like what you stand for.  You have an over-bearing pride, you’re white and wealthy and you’re from the south.  We’ve been watching you for two weeks, and you don’t seem to like black men.  Now, I find that interesting.”

She had been naked for a while and nothing had happened to her.  But it seemed the atmosphere in the boat cabin had suddenly changed.  Warily, the blonde teenager now watched him from her bed as a mouse might watch a dangerous cat. 

He had taken off his tank top while speaking and folded it.  He was nothing if not a methodical man.

He then began removing his trunks: “And the thing that’s interesting is that I have a handpicked crew of four more just like me waiting up top for you.  You’re going to be broken and trained by the very thing in life that you have done your best to avoid.” 

He heard a soft whimper from the bed but ignored it, casually folding his trunks and putting them on top of his tank top.

He now stood up straight still facing away from her.  He was tall and built like a bull from the back.  “Think about your mother and your aunt, and whether it’s better for you to go through this ordeal alone or if both of them should be here taking your place.  By the way, your aunt’s a tasty piece and I almost hope you do something stupid.”

I just want to sleep.  A coma would be nice.  Or amnesia.  Anything, just to get rid of this, these thoughts, whispers in my mind.  Did he rape my head, too?

-Laurie Halse Anderson, in Speak

With that he slowly turned around and faced me.  It took me a moment to register what I was looking at—Jesus God, Jesus!  Without thinking, I screamed and frantically began struggling against my bonds.  He was huge!  At least 9 or 10 inches long and the straining purple head of his circumcised cock looked like it was the size of a navel orange!  His erection and nutsack were a darker color than the rest of him and even as I was looking at him, I saw his engorged penis slowly rise until it jutted out into the air like a huge flag pole.  A massive black flag pole which narrowed only a little from tip to base.

I was now only subconsciously aware of my nakedness and the vulnerability it offered him.  As I struggled, frantic thoughts that I didn’t remember two seconds later kept racing through my mind.  I’d only been with one man before—I knew there was no way that this mutant could fit into me without tearing my flesh, ripping me to pieces--he was a monster, an inhuman monster.  I struggled desperately; as he approached, but nothing worked, nothing helped. 

Stop it, my father’s voice suddenly demanded in my head.  You’re being weak.  Stay focused!   I inhaled as best I could once, and then closed my eyes as I tried to focus on what had happened, on how I could get away from this. 

“Welcome to your new life,” he said quietly. 

I looked at him.  He stood in front of me for a minute, literally ensuring I could see him clearly—all of him.  I tried to look away, then looked at the ceiling.  My eyes flicked down once more to him and then back to the ceiling as I slowly, methodically twisted my wrists in an attempt to free myself that I knew from the beginning would fail.  But I had to try. 

Then my mind went blank as it was taken over once more by sheer fear.  My mind stopped working altogether and I suddenly felt cold spreading throughout my body, frozen as if I was filled with mile-thick layer of glacial ice as he slowly lay down on top of me between my wide-spread, tightly bound ankles, letting his weight settle onto my belly and chest. 

I couldn’t even help myself then.  He was like a mongoose and I the cobra—I looked into his eyes and saw nothing human there.  I screamed then.  But both heavy and solid, he snuggled against my body and my breathing became instantly more difficult.  I couldn’t scream again, I couldn’t fill my lungs!  Claustrophobia roared into my mind as I slowly suffocated: I felt nauseous and thought I might have to throw up and that would be awful with a gag filling my mouth.  The thought, God, no. No, no, no, nnnnooooo, kept running through my head.

As I threw my head from side to side in my struggles, I felt him move around on my belly and hips, settling into a more comfortable position on me.  I kept trying to move to make it more difficult for him, yet when suddenly he moved his hips the first time---his aim was perfect!! 

However, my vagina was dry and my labia difficult at first to part; he stopped abruptly after forcing only about half an inch of his erection’s massive head into my pussy on his first attempt. 

I was a sexually inexperienced teenager and this felt like someone was trying to hammer a mailbox inside me or drive a truck into me.  I screamed even though there was only minimal penetration at this point, because I knew he was only in the initial stages of tearing me apart.  My shriek fell on deaf ears.  I muffled my next cry, trying to control the pain.

He pushed again and I bucked my hips in desperation as I felt the lips of my vagina stretching beyond belief this time.  Once more I desperately tried to close my legs, but my bindings still kept my legs open and me completely vulnerable to him.  I almost felt the muscles on the insides of my thighs pull into cramps as they strained against my spread ankles.  At the same time, my screams morphed to even more desperate sounds, at the end reaching the level of one long “Uhhhhnnnnmmpphhhhhh!” 

Bossman groaned with sheer pleasure as he buried about four inches of his bone into her this time.  Her hips bucked desperately under his, surprisingly hard given how little air she could get into her lungs.  He kept her belly flat on the bed, and since the little bitch’s pussy had finally begun to lubricate a little, he knew he’d be able to bury his cock to hilt in her when he slammed his next thrust home.  He looked down at her face, the look of total shock on it and in her eyes showed how completely rational thought had fled this teenage beauty.  The cynical manipulation of her mind combined with his sheer overpowering maleness, it was an unfailing combination.  He lifted himself up on his elbows, pulled his hips back and….

And I was suddenly convinced that he was toying with me, stretching the rape out for some reason.  After suffering through his first two partial penetrations, I knew he would be able to take from me whatever he wanted from this point on.  And even without fully penetrating me, his erection felt absolutely huge and still seemed to completely fill me.  I was crying continually.  I was both frustrated and shamed by my helplessness; I was filled with horror that I could not stop him.  It was a total violation of me and he was in complete control.

Then it happened—massively—thoroughly—without mercy.  With his third bull-like thrust, I knew with absolute certainty that he now possessed me completely---there was nothing left inside me he hadn’t explored with his last move.  I felt my eyes bulge as the head of his thick cock seemed to bang against the base of my throat.  Still crying, I screamed again into the gag that filled my mouth as I felt my flesh tear.  My cry of horrified anguish carried out over the water through an open porthole but was lost long before it reached the nearby island. 

Amazingly, my rectum hurt almost as much as my pussy when he filled me beyond my physical limits time after time after time!  God help me, why was this happening?  Why me, God?  Why me?  My world had been destroyed—it was as if my whole world had fallen off a cliff and lay crushed at the bottom.  My previous reality had just disappeared as if wiped clean by a cosmic eraser. 

His shaft was finally buried inside me up to hilt and it felt as if it was the size of a tree trunk. . He was so big that every time he moved on me, it made me instinctively try to pull my knees up into my chest to protect myself, but all I could do was strain helplessly against my bonds even as my knees clamped against his sides.

He now began taking long, slow, deep satisfying strokes into his sweet little blonde’s inexperienced body.  With every thrust, his balls slapped against the crack of her ass.  Her whole body shook and quivered under him.  To him the moist heat from her cunt felt great; she felt extraordinarily tight around his cock and he knew that each time he thrust into her, he was filling her completely.  As usual, the idea of forever possessing an untamed woman as beautiful as this one was wonderfully erotic. 

Even more satisfying was the way she responded to his every thrust with a muffled “Mmmmppphhh” or “Kkkgghhnoooo” and to each withdrawal with a soft, heartfelt moan.  This was always the best part, he thought to himself; to be able to control a beautiful, undomesticated woman like this and to know that he could do anything to her in any way he chose.  No one would ever try to stop him.  She was his and he was going to tame her his way, making his claim permanent the best way he knew.

My whole world centered on the sensations I endured.  I shuddered uncontrollably and kept losing my breath as he slammed into me.  This made it almost impossible for me to scream, but yet I still tried almost every time he buried himself in me.  I began hiccoughing as I cried and saliva continually built up in mouth.  I choked and swallowed convulsively but could never seem to get my mouth emptied of saliva. 

His huge erection not only filled me, but also seemed to be rubbing and pushing and sliding against every organ in my body.  As inexperienced as I was, the sensations were totally unlike anything I had ever felt before.  He gave such a feeling of unnatural fullness that my vagina felt like it had been expanded far, far beyond what it should be and it was now rubbing, pushing against my pelvis from the inside.

He was a machine made of ebony flesh and wouldn’t stop.  My continued sobbing only energized him, never seemed to make him feel guilty, never made him want to stop or set me free.  Sweat continually rolled off of him onto me.  My body was quickly covered with his sweat, and it was especially slick on my belly and chest.  His sweat somehow felt thick and smelled…musky.  I was unused to a man’s odor like this and the raw animal smell made me want to vomit. 

Every now and then he would just stop and lay motionless on me, but he always ensured he kept me filled.  He would be breathing heavily, but that was his only movement. 

I think this was another of his tortures. 

His giant organ remained buried completely inside me during these moments of stillness, and although it was motionless, it still seemed to throb and pulse like something alive as intense heat radiated from it in waves.  I had never felt anything like it---it seemed to be like an animal lying in wait, ready to take me by force again even as it consumed me over and over. 

During those moments in which neither of us moved, I was physically connected to him only by the rigid, black bar of his engorged flesh, but it was enough to still control my body and my every thought. 

It finally began again.  I was no longer crying as he thrust into me again, randomly changing angles of penetration as his hips drove into me, first slamming into me at a shallow angle to my body.  With each of these lunges, he did his best to drive my body toward the head of the bed.  Only the restraints at the foot of the bed kept me in a position ready to receive his next frenzied attack. 

I cried out often in pain or when begging for his mercy, but that was all—my tears had mostly dried up at this point.  In some ways, the worst part was that his size was no longer so intimidating.  I had somehow begun to accommodate his manhood even as my faltering mind had somehow acclimatized to being raped by him. 

Then he slid up my stomach and assumed a blunter angle to my body, where each thrust would rub more against my clitoris and he seemed to trying to drive me into the bed under him, as if he had to break its springs.  The pressure and friction on my clit from the unceasing hammering while in this position was almost unbearable. 

This was not sex, it was a controlled violation of my body.  He was like a force of nature.  How could you fight a hurricane or a tornado?  There was no fighting this, all I could do was try to survive.  I knew I was being totally consumed, ravaged and raped by an animal obsessed with destroying me. 

And all I could do was endure. 

I told myself it would soon be over and prayed he would let me go then.  Very soon, it became a little easier as I got wetter between my legs.  To my humiliation, my juices had finally began to flow freely—I was horrified at the thought he might think I was enjoying this.  But none of that really mattered as he just kept going on and on, pistoning his cock into me for over ten minutes.  He got heavier and heavier lying on my chest, his weight at the end was unbearable on my sweat-slick belly and groin.

Finally, I heard him groan softly in my ear.  With a feeling of total horror, I instinctively knew he would soon achieve orgasm within me.  The thought filled me with absolute disgust, with overwhelming horror.  I was dizzy at this point, and either kept my eyes closed or tried staring at a point on the ceiling of the cabin.  My inexperienced vagina was very sore at this point from his unending pile driver slams into me.  I could feel how my body had betrayed me by finally stretching to accommodate his enormous erection.  I knew I would be sore later.  How sore I remained I wouldn’t know for hours and days later. 

Bossman had found his teenaged captive to be a physically extraordinary women, fully capable of accepting his full cock from almost the first thrust.  Few white women were able to take what he’d given her without first being gradually warmed up by taking only a few inches at a time.  When he’d fucked some of the other bitches like this, he’d actually injured a couple of the lesser ones. 

He was an expert in this and regardless of how she might feel right now, her vagina had taken him in without injury and she was now easily accepting anything he could put into her.  If he wanted to hurt her, he knew he could put her body in other positions that would allow him to make her scream for mercy in seconds.  But these moves he kept for later punishments

To extend his pleasure with his young blonde, he’d been stopping whenever he felt an orgasm build.  He always tried to maintain control when he was on a job, and he always knew when he’d gone far enough.  He felt a full-on boiling in his loins now, and he knew he was going to cum soon and couldn’t control it anymore. 

He wanted her to feel his ownership, emotionally, intellectually, physically.  He needed to plant himself in her so deep that she would never be touched like this by another man.  If he’d had her in certain other….positions, he knew that he would have had to be more careful.  But once he’d measured her capacity as a woman, with her flat on her back like this, he knew that he could finally let himself go, give rein to his overpowering animal lust and penetrate her as deeply as his heart desired without hurting her too much. 

With nothing in his mind except the will to dominate and to subjugate, the basic driving male need to prove eternal ownership over a female, the desire to impregnate every woman available, Bossman pushed off the end of the bed with his feet and tried to get that all important last centimeter deeper into her hot and tight, fresh and moist hole before he finally lost all control.

I had the sniffles and still struggled to breathe as my body jerked back and forth under him on the bed.  I felt so alone and vulnerable and afraid at that moment.  God!!  I was only nineteen.  Inexperienced nineteen-year old girls should not have to go through this, no one should never have to suffer this!  I wanted to be home again.  I hadn’t talked with either of them very much in the months preceding my trip here—I guess I always assumed they would be there whenever I wanted them.  I wanted my mother now, to hold me once more; I wanted my father to tell that everything would be okay, that he would protect me. 

Instead, my mind took me back to the boat and it filled with horror as I felt the man lying on me hunch up on my sweaty belly and then brace his feet on the foot of the bed, allowing him push into me as deeply as he could one more last time.  It was almost as if with this last move, he somehow felt he could claim my body as his forever, if he just planted his seed deeply enough in my belly. 

He was now deeper in me than seemed humanly possible, bumping right up against, painfully pushing against my cervix with the tip of his erection.  It was a new move and filled me with a horrified anticipation of even worse things! 

Then he began to ejaculate and huge great waves of heat began to blossom inside me as he injected his hateful semen into my helpless body in a series of explosive ejaculations.  Detestable, repugnant sensations filled my body as tears blinded me once more; I knew I could never go lower than this feeling of total helplessness had taken me. 

I could actually feel him ejaculate in pulses; he came in gushing, cutting jets of semen that seemed to travel almost to the tip of my womb, all resulting in a series of vibrating sensations so intense I almost passed out.  I could tell when each spurt occurred, because of the lava-like heat each generated anew inside my vagina.  It felt like he came in torrents, leaving his blistering hot fluid deep inside my belly. 

I was humiliated anew as each spurt of semen caused a scalding pain/pleasure throb that seemed to go on forever.  Pleasure?  God, I was so embarrassed to admit the truth.  Finally, God help me, he was finished with me for the moment and lay upon me as he caught his breath—waves of revulsion rolled over me.  I have never hated another human being as much as I hated this man at this moment. 

He’d just had a pretty good orgasm inside this beautiful young teenage girl.  Not the best ever, but pretty damn good for an inexperienced piece of ass who was tied down. After a couple of minutes, he finally had caught his breath and was ready for act two.  He grabbed Vic’s hair and pulled her head to the right again and whispered into her ear, “I hope your birth control is working well, because if it’s not, you’re gonna to be having a nice little half-breed nigger baby to take home to daddy in about nine months!” 

He was playing mind games now, using any psychological wedge that might help him eventually break her or control her.

With shock, I remembered I’d been at the end of my BC patch and had planned on replacing it when I got back home.  I hadn’t been with a man in over a year and used birth control simply to help regulate my periods rather than protect me from an unwanted pregnancy.  I’d become thoughtless and uncaring, careless with this---oh God!  He couldn’t have known this, it must have been nothing more than a coincidence. 

At the same time, a small voice whispered in my head, telling me he was right.  I remember my mama telling me a woman always knew these things.  Godgodgod, he might be right!  After what he’d just done to me, I might be pregnant!  I might be having his child!  And if I couldn’t get free of him, there was nothing I could do about it, no way could I stop it. 

I have always been an optimist, and something told me I would somehow get out of this bind.  But oh my god, what would my father do?  What would he say? 

While I was not a violent or aggressive woman, even with his penis still inside me, I felt a white-hot rage begin to grow.  At this moment, I felt no shame from what had just been done to me, for this was not something I had wanted or deserved.  One man had just branded and pierced me, and another had just brutally raped me.  Each was a monster and I knew if I had a chance, I’d try my best to kill them both.  It didn’t matter what these men did to me, I’d beat them at their own game somehow and make them pay for what they were doing to me.

The silences after his last gasp were sung together by a blackbird.  I lay there, my eyes unable to close.  His were unable to open.  I listed the places where I hurt, and how much.  My loins felt ripped.  Something inside had torn.  There were seven places on my body where he had sunk his fangs into my skin and bitten.  He'd dug his nails into my neck, and twisted my head to one side, and clawed my face.  I hadn't made a noise.  He had made all the noise for both of us.  Had it hurt him?

-David Mitchell, in Ghostwritten

Bossman finally rolled off of Victoria and stood up.  Her hard, flat stomach was slick with his sweat, and he rubbed and patted it in an almost possessive sort of way before he grabbed his clothes.  He looked down upon her sleek, bound body and shook his head with admiration. 

She wasn’t crying anymore, but just stared up at the ceiling, her shiny eyes blinking rapidly.  She made no effort to cover her nakedness anymore.  It was obvious her mind had temporarily shut down.  He wasn’t surprised.  Young and naive.  Kidnapped in a foreign country, then taken to a boat somewhere unknown, then stripped, branded and raped by a guy who looked like he should be starring in a porno film. 

The physical compulsion to control the situation was foremost in his mind, controlled his every action.  He was too disciplined to stop now, despite how well everything had gone so far. 

Turning around, he went into the galley and spoke.  She remained motionless, stunned, and incapable of thought.  She could hear him say something, but could not understand what he said.  It must have been funny because anticipatory laughter followed his announcement and she heard a lot of feet coming down the steps and into the cabin.

She vaguely remembered two of the remaining four men in the recruiting team now surrounding her, just looking down at her.  The men stared at her, assessing her with open hostility and contempt.  What they saw deserved their scorn. 

Her hair was tangled and sticking to her head with sweat.  The rest of her slender body was covered in sweat too and the insides of her firm thighs were streaked with white, honey-thick rivulets of Bossman’s semen.  One small pool of cum was cooling into a sticky mess, trapped along with sweat, in her belly button.  Most of his seed however, was either still entombed deep inside her belly or was slowly draining out of her vagina, down the crack of her ass and onto the bed.

Suddenly, part of my mental fugue disappeared, replaced by an overwhelming sense of shocked vulnerability and fear…..and helpless rage.  While my rage gave me strength, my other emotions actually controlled me.  With the sudden entrance of the other men it only got worse.  Horrible chills, one after another, ran through my body as I was engulfed by the primal fear every woman who has ever lived has experienced at one time or another.  It threatened to overcome me, seemed to rise from my very bones and chill my blood.  A tiny part of me understood that what was happening was all planned, but my vulnerability was still real nonetheless. 

Stupidly, I began crying in my helpless rage and once more struggled on the bed.  But my attempts were weaker now than they had been before.  I soon stopped, my sweaty, naked chest heaving for air.  This scene just seem to excite them and the four men just laughed at my feebleness, even as their eyes ranged up and down my naked body like wolves staring at their next meal.  I have never felt so exposed and defenseless in my whole life. 

They laughed and spoke to me in the broken English of the Caribbean!  One of them, apparently the leader of the four, told me their boss always went first with a new trainee.  God!  I was their trainee!!  My eyes were blinking again and I fought back more tears.  He complained then, saying his boss often ruined their new women for other men.  But by God, they were willing to make an attempt to match him with me this time!!

She felt like a baton getting passed along in a relay race, completely devoid of any control over her destiny.

-Gretchen McNeil, in Possess

All of the men quickly stripped down.  The one I had nicknamed Elvis in particular was already hard and appeared impatient to get started.  I began to struggle, for he was apparently was lucky number two.  His eyes were angry, burning with hatred, accusing me as a white woman of things I hadn’t even done—and never would. 

His erection too was coal black and while over 8 inches long, it was not nearly as thick as his leader’s.  I was shaking my head no, no, as he impatiently crawled between my legs and settled down on my stomach, moving his hips against my sweaty flesh to get more comfortable. 

Since the bitch had already been Bossman-fucked once already, her pussy was already wet and stretched out.  With one thrusting motion of his hips, Elvis buried himself completely in her.  The kidnapped American teenager arched her back and gave a muffled involuntary scream as he too seemed to bang the top of her vagina. 

Gags were used on women like this for a reason.  When his women wore gags, Elvis really didn’t like them making a lot of incomprehensible noise so he raised up on his elbows and gave her two quick back and forth slaps to the face.  He didn’t care whether or not he cut the inside of her mouth and this happened again and again. 

Soon she lay quiet beneath him, stunned by his blows.  With his feet braced at the foot of the bed, each of his massive thrusts into her pussy drove her senseless body up towards the head of the bed, her ankle bindings then forced her knees together as her bindings became taut.  Each time he pushed into her body, her toes would involuntarily point together and her feet would arch towards the wall away from the foot of the bed.  It was like a professional dancer pointing with her toes and the men with Elvis snorted with laughter at this.  Every inch of their new whore’s body, it seemed, was under his control.

The rage was gone, a total waste of energy.  Now I just wanted to die.  The worst part was how the other men’s eyes never left my face or body while I was being raped.  Filled with anticipation at their turn with me, they laughed with each spastic move of my tortured body.  They mocked the moans I could not keep inside and the muffled screams my rapist caused.  Again and again, they struck me, just to keep me quiet.  It was clear my screams did little more than annoy them as they raped me. 

My head lolled to one side as he let go of my hair.  I vaguely heard them even make bets on who could get the most action from me.  I didn’t even have the strength to wonder what they meant by “action.” 

They called me “bitch” and “cunt” and “whore”, but most often they referred to me as their “slave”.  Except for actually raping me themselves, watching me be gang raped seemed to be the high point of their day.  I really did want to die of humiliation.  To these men, this was as much a spectator hobby as it was a participant sport.  The weight of my horrific new world settled in on my body then, crushing me with depression.  I had no way to fight them, no way to keep my pride or dignity, and any decency I might have once had was now gone.

They raped me all afternoon. 

Each man took his turn; all eagerly partaking of my helpless body.  Sometimes in addition to the rape, they’d use a cane to whip the insides of my thighs or belly or ribs, sometimes they’d hit me or slap me with their hands.  I was helpless, unable to avoid anything.  At first, while I still had the strength I tried to fight them physically, attempting to keep my body away from the worst of their abuse.  And I tried to fight them mentally by pretending that any woman could beat them--after all they were only five men.  I fought them emotionally by withdrawing deep within myself and not allowing my mind to feel the pain they were inflicting upon me.  By letting my body and mind shut down, I hoped to come through this horrible day without giving these animals the satisfaction of knowing how much they were hurting me.

But these last four, they were beyond anything an inexperienced teenager could ever know.  Obviously bored, or horny, or both, each of them took their time with me again and again and again.  Every man was well endowed; some were longer, some were thicker.  But all wanted multiple visits to the bed where I lay bound. 

As I lay there and one of them was cleaning my vagina with a wet cloth for perhaps the tenth time, I wanted to die of shame, of humiliation.  I had done nothing wrong, but I was humiliated nonetheless. 

The only one who had not come to my bed more than once was Bossman.  I knew he just sat up on deck and lazed in the sun, listening all the while to what his crew had to say about me--the prize they kept in the cabin below.

By the time the sun was setting, the men were exhausted for the day.  I think I was in severe shock at that point.  I know I lay quietly crying on the bed, my legs spread wide, still wearing my beautiful high heels.  There were no thoughts in my mind then.  It felt like my mind had been wrapped in multiple layers of protective cotton or bubble wrap.  I felt cutoff from all sources of outside stimulation. 

Perhaps it was my mind trying to protect itself?

I had tried, God, I really had.  But at the end I no longer had had the strength to fight them and my rage had fled after the second man had finished lying between my thighs.  Right now, as darkness finally settle over the water, my face was turned into my shoulder away from any man watching.  I was quietly crying with shame and humiliation at what had been done to me.  I did not even remember taking that position. 

My face was slightly swollen and there were light red welts on my stomach, tops and insides of my thighs, and over my exposed ribs.  My jaw ached terribly from the large gag and my mouth stung from all of the cuts on the inside of my mouth.  I was drooling excess saliva, it was running down the side of my face from the corner of my mouth.  There was a large wet spot outlining my hips on the sheet beneath me, consisting equally of sweat and the semen of five men. 

I was exhausted.  But if I could just get some rest, I would be able to fight them tomorrow.

I could occasionally hear the men on deck, each bragging about what they had done to me on different occasions.  I lay on the bed, alone with my thoughts and my pain.  Hearing them, that was the worst part; how could anyone enjoy hurting another person like they had? 

One I had named “Dog Nose” made lewd comments about my breasts and the new piercings, while another bragged about what he would get me to say when finally my gag came out.  One however, was particularly brutal and laughed about when he had made me scream; many more times than had the others. He seemed to have enjoyed my pain more than the dead-body, zombie sex he had with me. 

They were drinking beer on-deck as the sun went down.  It was like it was a normal end of the day for any typical bunch of workers.  I heard this go on for over an hour.  Yet, despite the horror I had just experienced, the respite allowed me to slightly clear my head and to get a little energy back.

Bossman finally came downstairs and just looked at me.  Even though he had been the first to rape me, he hadn’t been as abusive as the others.  Without saying a word, he took the ointment and again silently rubbed it into my pierced breasts. 

He looked at me for a long moment and then told me to stop crying.  Finally, he asked if I was thirsty.  I looked at him for a moment trying to decide if it was a trick and then sniffling like a little girl, I nodded I was. 

Bossman hesitated as if trying to reach a decision and the abruptly said, “Listen to me.  I’m going to take your gag off now so that you can drink some water through a straw.  I don’t want you saying a word to me unless it’s a yes or no answer to a direct question.  Do you understand?”

I nodded my understanding and Bossman reached down and released both of my ankles from the bed posts, causing incredible pain in my hips.  He next told me to rollover onto my stomach.  Filled with fear, I obeyed slowly and with much pain.  My hips hurt so much.  I had difficulty in doing this because my legs didn’t work right and I kept getting one or both of my heels hooked in the sheet. 

He gently straddled my body but not in an overtly sexual way, taking care to keep his weight off of me and unhooked my wrists from the top of the bed.  Unlocking the wrist cuffs from each other, he quickly rotated my arms down and into the small of my back where he again locked the cuffs together.  There was no fight left in me.  Next, he reached down and fumbled with the cheeks of my ass. 

His act filled me with fear at what might come next.  But suddenly, the incredible fullness and pain I had been feeling all day in my rectum disappeared.  Finally, taking my shoulders Bossman helped me rollover again and then scooched carefully over to the edge of the bed.  The semen stained bedding beneath my body had begun to cool and dry a little and it felt unpleasantly rough, yet sticky as I moved over it.

Her feelings were easily hurt, a valuable property in a slave girl.  Too, she could not control her feelings, another excellent property in a slave girl.  Her feelings, vulnerable, deep, exploitable, in her expressions and on her face, betrayed her, exposing her to men, and their amusement, as helplessly as her stripped beauty.  They made her more easily controlled, more a slave.

-Tribesmen of Gor - Pages 103 - 104

Bossman looked at his new cunt carefully.  Rotating up using just her abdominal muscles, she sat straight up on the edge of the bed and stared at the floor.  Suddenly, she began to cry silently without looking up.  The girl’s shoulders shook as he allowed her to sob for another moment.  Then, he snapped his fingers and she finally looked at him, her breasts helplessly thrust forward, wrists still bound behind her back.  Her long blonde hair was a tangled, sticky, sweaty mess after one of her “recruiters” had cum in her face and hair.  What little remained of the blonde’s makeup was smeared around her eyes because of tears and she looked like a ridiculous raccoon. 

The girl’s knees were spread in an unladylike sprawl and finally she noticed him looking at the inside of her stained thighs.  A small amount of blood from tiny tears in her vagina was mixed with his semen and their sweat, staining her skin a light bronze.  High-heeled sandals emphasized her still perfect calves and as she sat erect with her arms bound behind her, her pierced breasts and swollen nipples reflected the glow of the setting sun. 

Physically only nineteen-years old, she looked like a bloody, yet unbowed goddess to him.  Mentally, he had no doubt she was in a whole different zip code. 

Bossman slowly unhooked the strap on the back of her neck that kept the black rubber pear in her mouth, and took the gag out.  She moved her jaw around a little and then sucked on the straw he offered, delivering gloriously chilled water to her parched throat. 

“Are you hungry”, he asked?

She glanced at him quickly out of the side of her tear-reddened eyes.  Like a small child who suspected some sort of a trick, she gave him a tiny nod in return.  He got up and walked over to the other side of the cabin where he picked up some hard, bland crackers.  Her eyes watched him move all the way there and all the way back.  He offered her sips of water alternating with the crackers, and both seemed to taste heavenly.

“Do you have to go to the bathroom,” he asked?  After another hesitation, still like a small child she nodded yes.

I shrank away from him, I didn’t want to be anywhere near him.  But I could barely walk even with his assistance.  He helped me stand up and walk over to a previously un-noticed door in the cabin.  I was unstable on the heels that had been on my feet during the entire rape and I could barely walk, could barely lift my feet.  My knees shook uncontrollably and my legs felt like they were made of lead. 

My lower back ached and I knew I walked bowlegged in a slightly bent over position, but I couldn’t help it.  The pain in my hips was due to my legs having been tied so far apart for so long and the unfamiliar cramps in my groin were a direct result of the monumentally brutal number of vaginal penetrations---the rapes to which I’d been subjected. 

The lips of my vagina felt raw from the abuse I’d been forced to suffer through all afternoon; my rear end ached and everything below my waist hurt with each step I took.  I truly did not want him, or any other man on the boat to touch me, but I couldn’t do this alone--someone had to help me.  So Bossman held me as I unsteadily made my way across the cabin with my wrists still bound behind my back, my stride now nothing like my walk that last night on Cancun. 

He opened the door and I could see a bathroom inside, equipped with a surprisingly large shower stall without a privacy curtain.  He told me there were two buckets for me to use, depending upon my need.  I looked at him for a second in disbelief as he said, “Go on.  Do what you gotta’ do.”

I know it was stupid--I felt stupid.  But even after being gang-raped all afternoon, I still felt inhibited about peeing in front of another person.  I stood there swaying with fatigue, unsure if he would give me any privacy, when he pushed me forward roughly and said, “Go in the bucket now or forget about it for the rest of the night.”

Filled with an odd disbelief, as if THIS was a bad thing despite what they’d done to me all afternoon, I slowly walked into the cramped bathroom.  My face burning with shame and the door still wide open, I squatted over the pail and let loose a torrent of pent up urine.  Despite the humiliation, I felt a hundred percent better when I had finished. 

My mind was finally beginning to work again.  I ignored anyone watching and looked around while I was squatting.  In addition to the shower, I saw a small stained basin with a leaking tap.  This was not a pleasure boat, at least for any women these men took.  There was a small porthole high up on the wall.  When I looked through it, I had seen nothing but water.  It was too small in any case, for me to use to escape.

In the door way, Bossman asked a question.  All I heard was, “…if I had to shit…”  I shook her head no, somehow not shocked at his coarseness.  Being bound, I could not wipe myself and I dreaded having him doing it.  But instead, he just hosed me down—my poor sandals--and wiped me off with a rough towel.  Then he grabbed my upper arm and tried to lead me back to the bed.  I pulled back as best I could but he was irresistible. 

The still-fresh memories of what had been done to me on this bed made my skin crawl, I was terrified to be going back, but I somehow let him guide me there anyway---what choice did I have? 

It seemed like I was walking in a dream, my feet mired in molasses.  But my poor pussy felt like I was living in a nightmare.  We sat down again besides each other.  I looked at him and unconsciously licked my dry lips.  I couldn’t help myself as I blurted, ”Please.  I’ve got money.  And I’m pregnant—you don’t want to hurt my baby.  Let me go, I promise not to tell any....ooof.”

I could not protect myself and the last sound was that of the air exiting my lungs as his stiffened fingers punched deeply into my solar plexus.  I gagged and slowly sagged over onto my side away from him.  Angrily, he grabbed the pear gag and roughly inserted it back into my mouth and tightly fastened it in back.

Stupid bitch!!  They never learned, never understood that he was serous without a lot of unnecessary pain.  Without warning, he punched her in the stomach again.  Grabbing the teenager’s ankles, he removed both of her sandals and then stood up and grabbed her ass plug from where it lay on the bed along with a handful of her hair.  She was still handcuffed, so using the hair as a handle he dragged her stumbling ass back across the cabin to the bathroom and threw her half into the shower stall onto her stomach.  Reaching down, he grabbed the unclean butt plug and roughly inserted it back into his new girl’s ass again.

When she started to struggle weakly, he hit her one more time and then locked her ankles together with ankle cuffs connected by one link of chain—no way was she running for freedom hobbled like a goddamn camel or goat.  Going back outside, he grabbed a training collar and piece of rope.  Bringing them into the shower, he fastened the collar around her neck without any resistance. 

The collar was made of thick leather and wide enough that it almost immobilized her head like a punishment collar might.  He then tied the rope to a metal loop on the back of her collar.  From there, he ran it between her wrist cuffs and then between her bound ankles under her cuffs before returning it back towards her wrists.  While she was lying on her stomach, he pulled hard on the free end of the rope.  This movement pulled her head up and back and her ankles up and towards her head, leaving her body arched into a painful bow which totally immobilized her.  He made sure she could still breathe before he tied the rope off on her wrist cuffs; all the while she lay softly crying into her gag, trying to look at him with pleading eyes. 

Bossman shook his head in disbelief and disgust.  His voice filled with anger, he said, “You’re one stupid bitch!  You still don’t get it.  Your life has changed forever.  You are no longer mommy and daddy’s little college girl---you don’t belong in that world anymore.  I could kill you right now and no one would ever know.  Get it though you’re head that you are a slave now; you’re meat, a fucking piece of ass that belongs to a man you’ve never met.”

He stopped and took a deep breath, finally cooling off before he continued, “When I tell you something, or one of my men tells you something, or any man tells you to do something, you sure as hell better do it from now on.  Obedience is everything.  Do you finally begin to understand that you are nothing but property now?”

With that he disappeared for a second and then reappeared with her urine filled pail.  He looked at the blonde girl for a second and then threw the still warm contents of the bucket on her.  She cried out in disbelief as he pushed her feet into the shower stall and then locked the door behind him before walking away. 

He left the dumb cunt there all night long. 

Day Two: A False Submission

Tears gently rolled down Anne's cheeks and she looked at me like a forlorn puppy.  But I've always tried to be so submissive, she said.  I started speaking again, gently.  Yes, Anne, you see whilst you were being so submissive to men, you still didn't do what the Holy Spirit was telling you to do on many occasions. 

-Kathie Walters Ministry, in False Submission or Just Another Kind of Rebellion

The next morning, Elvis reached the shower and looked in.  He wrinkled his nose at the smell, at her misery and said, “Man, you guys come down and check this cunt out.  The bitch shit all over herself and she’s been laying in it all night.”

It was true.  The clean wholesome all-American girl who everyone loved had had an uncontrollable bowel movement during the night.  She had fought it as long as she could, but stomach cramps had finally won out over personal hygiene.  It had forcefully driven out the plug that had been quickly inserted into her the night before and fecal matter the consistency of pudding had oozed out all over her legs and lower body; it was cold and wet and ground into the skin of her belly and hips and thighs.  She had been laying in it for hours and the smell of it was in her nostrils and her hair---an absolutely miserable Victoria just knew the smell would never come out of her skin. 

Physically she was a mess, psychologically she was in shock.  He was pretty sure he was talking actual shock with low blood pressure and everything.  He looked out into the cold emptiness of the Caribbean and knew it was reflected in himself.  Drinking coffee up on deck, Bossman knew this wasn’t bad for him at all, that he could use it.  Forcing any young innocent middle class girl to lie in her own excrement overnight was a huge mental blow, something that would shake her to her very foundation.

The other men came down and stuck their heads into her little world of the barnyard smells and left laughing and making dirty jokes at her expense.  It was the most shameful moment of her life, the most recent in the long line of devastating humiliations she had just undergone.

Elvis came in and untied the rope, took off the training collar and unlocked her ankle cuffs.  He made her stand up in the shower on legs that were unsteady, turning the water on and allowing it to sluice over her body washing away the night’s filth.  He turned her by her shoulders multiple times, leaving her much cleaner in the end even with her hands still bound behind her back.  Elvis was more than willing to be helpful, running his hands all over their victim’s slick body and his probing fingers into her various crevices and holes.

I felt so helpless as he pushed me out of the shower and roughly toweled me off while paying special attention to my breasts.  Then he led me toward the bed as he told me to sit down on the edge.  I thought I still could smell my fouled skin even after the shower.  I carefully sat down because of the object still protruding from my rectum and closed my knees as best I could, just as I’d been taught my whole life.  He left and in a second Bossman walked down the stairs.  He looked at me and shook his head, all the while getting a cup of cold water and a straw. 

“Ya’ think you can keep your mouth shut this time,” he asked roughly?

Not having being able to sleep during the night, I nodded wearily.  He sat down beside me and removed the gag.  I thankfully sipped the cold water he offered and ate part of an apple he held for me, along with swallowing a couple different kinds of vitamins and the supplement pills he offered. 

When I was done, he reinserted my gag and looked at me for a minute.  “Yesterday was the first day of your new life,” he said.  “Welcome to the second.”  He took out the antiseptic ointment and proceeded to gently rub it into my pierced breasts.

I had not slept for over 24 hours, but a sudden inexplicable fierceness filled me.  I knew although exhausted and shaken by my night in the shower stall, I would fight these men today with a rage that would not allow me to back down.  When gang-raped yesterday, the assault had been so sudden, so unexpected, and I thought to myself, had continued to be so brutal for the rest of the day, I hadn’t been able to catch up, to prepare myself mentally to fight them. 

My body ached all over and my mind felt fuzzy from lack of sleep, but today my rage and my pride would not allow me to again be made into an object by these bastards.  No matter what they might do to me, I felt I was too valuable for them to seriously injure, let alone kill.  I would use this weakness to beat them at their own game.

Suddenly, he made me stand again and led me to the shower stall.  Reluctantly, I followed until I stood in the still wet shower.  “Are you really pregnant now,” he asked.

I fiercely nodded my head yes.

Bossman looked at me for a second and then held up a pregnancy dip strip.  “Okay, I’ll take your word for it.  But if you’re really pregnant,” he said, “this will show it.”

He waved the test strip in front of my face.  “Keep in mind that if you are lying and continue this farce, when this strip shows you are not pregnant, I will allow the men to beat you twice as badly as they did yesterday—and they will still take you sexually.  Now, again I ask.  Are you really pregnant?”

My fury-driven courage now all gone, I looked at the floor as I miserably shook my head no—I was not pregnant. 

He just nodded his head and took me back out to the bed, where I sat quietly on the edge. 

Bossman then went up on top without another word; immediately the other four swarmed down the stairs. 

He hadn’t really thought she was pregnant, but it didn’t really matter.  For today, he thought to himself, she was to be initiated into the glory of anal sex.  Well, at least he enjoyed it.  She had an absolutely great ass and while he knew he desperately wanted to fuck her there himself, he was far too big for her as she was right now. 

There were few women alive who could accept his engorged cock without a lot of preparation ahead of time.  He remembered a pretty Cuban girl he had maimed during his inexperienced youth and knew now that he had to be careful.  It had been a pity what had happened to that girl just because of his naive stupidity and lust.

Women enjoy anal sex because it feels amazing.  It's a totally different sensation than regular sex.  It's not her vagina, yet it's inside her.  In other words, it’s a completely alien feeling that she isn’t used to, which makes it intriguing.  Meanwhile, the rectum will just suck up your penis like a vacuum.

-Askmen.com

Anal sex was my least favorite bedroom activity.  Even through half a bottle of lube, the whole charade felt like pooping backwards.  It was a negotiation token- something I begrudgingly did in exchange for backrubs and switching the television from football to Sex in the City.  Anal sex was something I tolerated in order to be a cool girlfriend, because it was and still is common knowledge that that men love shoving their dicks in buttholes.

-Maggie Young

No?  Is that all you know how to say?

-anonymous, in projectunbreakable.tumblr.com

Laughing and now refreshed from yesterday’s Olympian exertions, the four men grabbed me and flipped me onto my stomach on the dirty bed. 

As they removed her butt plug, I heard one of them laughing, “We gonna party you up, babe.  And when we’re finished, you gonna like it here, you won’t wanna leave anymore.” 

Suddenly, I knew what they had planned, what was coming.  I had been a fool to let it go this far without fighting them.  I struggled frantically and screamed, but was helpless against them and quickly found myself lying back on the center of the filthy bed.  There, they took a minute and put my sandals back on my feet.  I tried to kick the men holding my ankles, but they were too strong and were able to avoid my heels. 

I never stopped struggling, even when my wrists were released from the small of my back and my cuffs were locked together back over my head and attached to the bed.  With one man pulling on each ankle, I was then stretched out tightly and my ankle cuffs again locked to the bed posts. 

Elvis laughed as he stood in front of me and stripped.  He picked up a tube of lubricant and proceeded to rub it all over the tip and shaft of his extraordinarily long but narrow erection.  Climbing on top of me, he pushed my cheeks apart to bare the puckered brown hole that was his target. 

He said, ”Awww, c’mon baby, you’re gonna to learn to like this.  I’ve ass-fucked a million young bitches like you and they all learned to love it in the end.  And that’s where you get it today baby, in the end!” 

Now knowing what he intended, I screamed my rage and frustration into the gag that filled my mouth and did my best to keep myself safe by moving my hips back and forth and clenching my buttocks together with all of my might.  Yet Elvis parted my cheeks with little difficulty and, keeping my defenseless anus exposed with his left hand, he guided his stiff penis into me, past the first muscles that futilely protected my anus. 

The other men looked at the crewman the girl thought of as Elvis.  The crew was a mixed bag, and all did what was required.  But some enjoyed inflicting unnecessary pain much more than did others.  Elvis was a man who did not treat women with gentleness.  Instead, he tested their physical, emotional and psychological limits; he fucked them hard, perhaps for good reason, perhaps just for the hell of it.  Yet he was not the worst of them by a long ways. 

All of them saw the devilish grin of anticipation on his face as he took his place on the girl’s body…..

My head reared up as I bellowed my pain and rage, “GGGGNNNnnnooo” and immediately stiffened as much as I could, desperately clenching my buttocks and anal sphincter, arching my back in a futile attempt to buck and remove myself from his attack. 

However, as the other men laughed and watched from the side, it was apparent to all that my attempts were useless because of the way I’d been dilated.  With one quick move of his hips, Elvis had effortlessly sheathed his banana-sized erection deep inside my body. 

I immediately froze in horrific disbelief.  I did not realize this at the time, but he actually took care to not rupture me, to not puncture my colon.  Not because he cared for me, but to avoid damaging or even killing the Bossman’s property and thus bringing the giant’s wrath down upon his head.  I was their “product,” and such must be protected.  Nonetheless, and despite his horrific, perverted attempt at what he must have seen as a display of some sort of sensitivity, the discomfort, shock and pain was literally overwhelming. 

As if from a distance, I heard him saying, “The bitch seems to like it!  That’s why she’s not fighting us anymore.”

I could smell his breath as he leaned over and whispered into my year, “That’s right honey, this is how you’re gonna learn to take it, you bitch.” 

He pulled out then, hesitated for the slightest second and then drove himself back inside me.  His second full thrust into my body brought an even stronger response from me as I began bucking again and inarticulately bellowed, “KKKNNNOOOOOO!”  As every man there had known from the beginning, my clenched cheeks had been a hopeless defense once he’d lubricated himself. 

They laughed at my naiveté and howled at my agony.

God, I couldn’t help it---my body’s reaction was both instinctive and instantaneous.  At first when he had thrust into me, I had felt almost paralyzed and had been afraid to move for fear that I would further injure myself.  Later, as my anal muscles had stretched and finally began to be able to unwillingly accommodate his huge penis, I had been able to fight him more.  I had never before been violated like this, had never even dreamed of doing this with a man.  Again and again, I howled and screamed in my agony into the wet rubber that filled my mouth.  With his every stroke into my body I cried out and every time he pulled back out I gave an involuntary moan of relief, “Uuuuggghhnnnn”. 

There had been no small increments of movement in and out, no tentative thrust and retreat, no testing for pain and waiting for acceptance.  There were no soft offers of love with this, no concern for my pureness here for at nineteen years of age, he preferred to dominate me in a most brutal and uncaring way. 

I was “owned,” completely penetrated and totally possessed, all in one smooth move of his hips, and he continued his ownership for what seemed an eternity.  I was sure he had torn my flesh with his first thrust.  He took what he wanted and to hell with me.  I was his virginal bride and he owned me at this moment, body and soul.  He controlled my body, but more to the point for him, it was his way of letting me know he also owned the me I tried to hide from him inside.  But with this, there was no place to hide.

The pain of this huge erection stretching my insides was incredible.  Hs hands cupped my head, he had my face pushed towards the wall.  As I stared at it through my tears, it was like I was looking through the wrong end of a telescope as my vision swam dizzily and more and more of the boat cabin took on a tunnel-like look.  As this monster thrust himself into me using the long, smooth full strokes of a professional sodomite, I knew he couldn’t see my face because my tangled hair covered me—it was obvious he didn’t see me as human anymore. 

But I honestly don’t think he would have cared even if he had been able to look on me.  My mouth was open in a rictus of agony around my gag and my eyes were squeezed shut as I shrieked for mercy from him, but all these men knew was their immediate physical pleasure.  All of them could see there was no pleasure here for me, but that wasn’t going to stop them. 

The worst thing was the terrible, ripping feeling of fullness inside me, stretching me and forcing my insides into positions they were never meant to experience.  My abdomen continued to cramp again and again as if from the worst attack of constipation anyone had ever endured.  Every nerve in my anus was on fire and I felt my torn anal sphincter spasm and convulse as it continued to be both stretched and forced out of shape by the brutal invader’s unending and uncaring motions.

Elvis groaned then with the sheer pleasure of his cock being buried in the blonde American bitch’s tight, warm cave.  Upon complete penetration her anal muscles had clenched around the base of his penis and would not let go.  Then her sphincter began to release and contract on him in uncontrolled spasms. 

The bitch may not have been aware of what she was doing, he thought, but damn, it sure felt good!  He knew that when he blew his load in her beautiful, tight little ass, it would be a mind blowing orgasm.

Just as I felt I had begun to adjust to this brutal sodomization, I heard myself scream again before I actually felt the new pain.  He had just thrust back into me viciously, but this time adjusting his angle to push more upward than before, stretching me in a new and totally unpredictable way.  I felt my flesh tear, and he had done it on purpose.  He did it again.

My muffled wails went up a full octave as it once more felt like my flesh was being ripped within my body.  I almost blacked out then, my throat felt raw and I was finally beyond screaming as only a ragged moan passed from my throat and snot ran out of my nose. 

As he pushed my face into the mattress, Elvis stopped for a few seconds and then thrust in again, once more changing angles to make sure I had received the most pain he could give me.

Bitch’d been weakening, but he’d awakened the beast again.  The new cunt’s blonde hair began flying once more as she continued thrashing beneath him.  He was toying with her now, changing angles, thrusting and lifting his hips off her ass a little, stretching her out even more.  And for every time he thrust into her like this, she matched him with a muffled scream of pain and an unsuccessful attempt to buck him off of her back. 

When he pulled out, she almost always gasped her relief in some pitiful way, but it was an act which struck no chords of sympathy with anyone watching here.  Suddenly impatient with her games, he finally grabbed a long handful of hair which he used as reins to pull her head up and back, gaining an additional measure of control over her. 

The teenage blonde’s bound feet made short pushing motions as she tried to climb up the bed, tried to push up and away from each thrust into her ass.  But these men were experienced in enjoying women in this situation and they had already planned on controlling her struggles--the way she was tied ensured she would never get traction as she continued to writhe helplessly beneath him, forced to fully accept anything that he desired to do to her. 

Much of the time that he rode her, their new ass-whore made a high keening wail.  It was an eerie sound that carried out over the calm morning waters of the Caribbean. 

It seemed to him like it went on for days, when in reality the vicious ass-fucking of their new slut probably took less than ten minutes.  Finally, covered in sweat, he knew he was ready to blow his load and he warned her, "You little ass-fucked whore!  Get ready"! 

He thrust in as far as he could now and exploded.  And even as she wailed her loss, he filled her insides with wave after wave of his scalding hot semen. 

He’d once read that except for the asshole, there were no nerve endings in a person’s ass.  But he had convinced himself that everything he injected into her ass, she felt as a white hot burning feeling deep inside her abdomen.  She certainly acted felt like he’d put his giant cock all the way up into her lungs and its blunt end had torched her throat with his hot jizm.  He knew that to an inexperienced bitch like this, it must have felt like the tip of his cock had a burning coal on it and she was being branded on the inside of her intestines. 

At least that was what he wanted her to feel, for he wanted to ensure that the American bitch never forgot the first man who’d fucked her in the ass. 

His sweat falling upon her now motionless body, he finally lay still upon her, breathing heavily while his cock slowly shriveled to a more human size.  When it had shrunk to the point that it was not long enough to stay in her fully reamed out ass anymore and had slipped out, he got off of her back and without saying a word, motioned to the next lucky man. 

She was to be passed around among the crew like a cheap sex toy.  What better way to take away any pride the girl might feel for herself? 

Like yesterday, each man seemed not able to get enough of Vicki.  There was no drinking of alcohol and each wanted seconds and some even came back for thirds.  Even though she was gagged, every time one of them thought she was getting too loud they would choke her with their hands or push her face into the mattress for up to a minute, making it even more difficult for her to breath and muffling her cries completely. 

When she made too much noise to satisfy Number Four, he put a loop of rope around her neck.  Even as he took her and made her scream, he took particular pleasure in choking her with it until she was almost unconscious. 

In this way, he had double the pleasure---fucking her and physically brutalizing her at the same time.  Finally, she no longer had the strength or the will to scream anymore, but just cried, grunted and groaned as each assault occurred.

The Bossman was not a man who endured agonies of conscience afterwards.  He never had.  Nor was he cold or unfeeling either.  Without remorse, regret or triumphalism; he was like a man who worked in an abattoir and earned a monthly wage.  An enigma and not at all understood by the others, yet he was depended upon. 

At the end after hours of pain and humiliation, when the last man finally pulled his shorts on, the cunt’s tormented asshole was ripped and bleeding.  She was hoarse from screaming, but little of the sound coming from the cabin of the boat had been loud enough to disturb the nearby seabirds. 

The sodomites stood around for a last moment, looking at their prize.  Even bruised, bleeding and almost unconscious, the cunt was still lovely.  But that didn’t matter to them now for they had temporarily satiated themselves with her helpless body.  What they were was hungry after a long day of good exercise, and they all trooped out into the galley and started talking about making dinner, as if the battered female they’d left nearby below did not hunger, or even exist.

She couldn’t get any farther away inside from her skin.  She couldn’t get away.

-Cynthia Voigt, in When She Hollers

From there it mixed there with the sweat in the crack of my butt and on my inner thighs and then pooled onto the bed sheet under me.  My stomach and lower back were cramping, and because of how far my legs were tied apart, my hips felt paralyzed. 

I did not want to move, could not move.  Everything hurt too badly.  A massive pain coalesced, centralized around the middle of my body.  I wept then helplessly, for I just knew I had been damaged for life. 

After a moments inspection of my naked and bruised and tormented body, he said as if to an audience, “So, what to do now?” 

He looked down on me then and answered his own question as to my fate, “I think I’ll keep you.”

He clarified, “For myself.” 

After about a minute of silence, he sat down on the side of the bed, reached over and grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled lightly on my head, forcing me to look at him.  He said, “Listen to me closely girl, because your first lesson begins now.”

Bossman shook the teenaged blonde’s head to get her attention, “I know you’re hurting and this is the last thing you want to hear.  But you need to learn the rules.  I can be your best friend or your worst enemy, your choice.  I can help you to learn or teach you helplessness.”

“Listen closely,” he demanded.  “You’re a slave now---understand that, believe it with all your heart.  Forget about whether or not this is wrong.  Winners are the ones who write history and they are the same ones who invent morality.  You’ve lost here and you have entered our world, and it’s a world controlled by our morality.  Morality?  Shit, I don’t even know how to spell it anymore!”

He smiled grimly.  “We’re going to teach you everything you’ll need to know.  You’re a gorgeous young woman; excuse me,” he said with a small smile, “teenager.  You’re young enough to learn quickly, and smart enough to know what you have to do.”

“We’re on this boat to teach you what you need you to know to please a man.  If you’d just cooperate, little of this would be necessary.  But, we’ll go into all of this in more detail once you’re ready to listen and to learn.”

I looked at him through eyes reddened and swollen by tears of pain and humiliation.  I wanted to scream, After all I’d been through, after all they’d done to me, and these men still wanted me to cooperate with them?  But instead, I just shook my head stubbornly. 

They had taken too much today and yesterday and the day before.  I didn’t care anymore.  These people planned on destroying me and taking away all that I loved.  After all that I’d been through, in my ignorance, I felt there was nothing more he could do to me.  It seemed at that moment that there actually was power in my despair, I felt like this man could not touch me anymore, could not harm again the me I had hidden deep inside. 

Like a naïve fool, I felt they had nothing left with which to threaten me.

He thought to himself, a girl like you never willingly cooperates with someone like me.  Letting these guys have you as much as they want is how I’m going to break you.  I don’t give a shit if you know that before we start, you stupid, foolish bitch, because there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.  Sex and pain and a few drugs, taking away your sleep and food, your honor and your belief in yourself, that’s all I need to turn you from an average nineteen-year old ball breaker that gets off on MTV, video’s and tormenting boys and into a beautiful, tame and submissive, well-trained slave to an important man.  You belong to me now, sweetie pants.

“Say it now through your gag,” he said to her. “Say it out loud,” ‘I’m your slave.’” 

The American girl he had kidnapped looked him in his eyes and didn’t make a sound, instead shaking her head no as a scared, yet determined look filled her beautiful green eyes. 

Bossman repeated himself, “say it out loud, say ‘I’m your slave.’” 

She shook her head no once more.  Even though her eyes were brimming with tears and the look on her face this time was more of shock and fear than determination, the captive girl remained firm.  She had committed herself to war with him. 

When he repeated his order a third time, she just turned her face away from him without responding and he could see the tears running down her cheeks.  Bossman looked at her with a little frustration, and decided it was time to escalate to the next level.

“Honey, you just don’t learn.  You’ve just been ass-fucked today by some experts and I’m guessing it hurt you a lot.  Kinda’ tore you up inside, if you know what I mean.  You also know how big I am, and that none of the guys that rode you today can match my size.  You know this too.”

“Well, here’s what I’m going to do.  I’m going to take you right now and there’s not a damn thing you can do to stop it.  The only choice that you get to make is where you take it.  You can take it up your ass or in your pussy, your choice.  I’m going to untie your ankles and if you want it in the ass, you just lay there like you are.  Of course, you know that if I ass-fuck you right now, you probably won’t survive.  At that point, we just weight you down and toss your useless, well-fucked ass overboard.  Then we’ll grab your momma and that great looking aunt you’ve got and they get to take your place.  Just think about them spreading for me and the crew right here on this bed.  Pussy and ass, pussy and ass, that’s where they’ll be taking for days and weeks.”

“Or you can cooperate: you can roll over onto your back, spread your legs, and I’ll fuck you in the pussy.  Your choice.”

With that, the monster walked down to the end of the bed and released my ankle cuffs.  I lay there on my stomach for about thirty seconds as Bossman began taking off his clothes.  It didn’t matter, nothing mattered anymore.  I was too tired to resist, too tired of being hit and choked.  I just didn’t care anymore, I just wanted it over.  But when he noticed I hadn’t moved, he said as if to himself even though I knew he was talking to me, “OK, you want it in the ass.  You made a good choice.” 

With that comment, I groaned and scrambled to roll over onto my back.  At least I had a little freedom to move now.  Surprisingly, he leaned over and removed the gag from my mouth. 

They hadn’t taken me in the vagina yet today, but I was still quite sore from yesterday.  I tried to spread my legs a little, but the pain in my hips and vagina made me stop after I had moved my feet about eighteen inches apart.  I groaned and tried again.  It was no use, it hurt too much.

You’ll tell yourself anything you have to, to pretend that you’re still the one in control.

-Jodi Picoult, in Change of Heart

Bossman knew that by freeing her legs and then making her choose how she got fucked, he was forcing her into taking an important psychological step towards accepting her slavery.  It would be her first submissive step of many on this boat.

The big man was now kneeling on the mattress by her feet.  Grabbing an ankle in each hand, he pulled them apart and spread her wide.  The girl he his men had kidnapped cried out at the pain and tried to raise her hands to protect herself, forgetting that her wrists were still tied to the head of the bed.  He knelt between her thighs and stroked his cock, finally bringing it to full attention after in less than a minute.  She shook her head silently at him, didn’t seem to want it anymore.  What with being gang raped and sodomized in the last thirty-six hours, it seemed she may have somehow forgotten how massive he was. 

He looked at her for a moment like a lab specimen, and finally lowered himself onto her body.  As he had stroked his cock, it glistened with what must have been previously applied lubricant, because with one smooth movement of his hips he buried his huge rigid cock up to the nut sack in her.  Victoria cried out at the sudden violation as his penis again spread her dry lips wide apart, and it all came back to her in a rush as she felt him completely fill her vagina.  Again, it seemed more than she could take as he pulled out and slammed it back inside her again.

Keeping me impaled on his cock, he raised himself off of me and while looking down at my face, he told me to wrap my legs around him.  I shook my head and he said, “Then take it in the ass.  God, you’re a stupid bitch-slave.  You don’t get a choice; do what I say or take it in the ass!”

Scared, I tried to raise my legs and after a couple of attempts, finally had them wrapped around Bossman’s waist with my ankles crossed.  This seemed to satisfy him.  My hips ached with any movement of my legs, but I knew that didn’t matter to him—his attitude towards me said that he always got what he wanted from his women.

She really was coming along very nicely, he thought.  He now possessed her completely, having made her choose how she was to be violated and then making her cooperate in her rape.  His body was slick with sweat allowing him to slide easily upon her belly even as her firm teenage breasts poked into his chest. 

It went on and on, he never stopping, she never responding unless complying with one of his orders.  The expression on her face was almost blank; only her dazed eyes changed, the pupils sometimes getting larger on some particularly deeply vicious thrust he would make into her. 

Once, he grabbed her hair in both hands and pulled her head back, forcing her chin towards the cabin’s ceiling. When he had exposed her throat, he took the flesh of her neck above the collar and bit down, keeping it softly but firmly pinned between his teeth.  His hands then went down and he filled them with handfuls of firm ass flesh, and he fucked her mercilessly. 

As she lay there beneath him passively looking up at the ceiling, her body was driven toward the head of the bed with each thrust he made into her pelvis.  Each time he pulled out, it seemed like she was drawn back down toward the foot of the bed.  She was the moon and he was the earth, without her will her body rotated around every movement of his groin. 

It was as if I wasn’t in my body, but was floating above near the ceiling, looking down and watching everything that happened but without actually participating.  As before, when he did finally cum, I snapped back into my body.  It seemed then like he spewed pints and quarts of his semen inside me.  It burned like wildfire and seemed to invade every niche and cranny of my womb.  It jetted out of him with enough force that it squirted between the tightly stretched lips of my vagina and the base of his engorged penis, and then it splashed on the inside of my thighs. 

I knew I was inexperienced with men.  However, I remembered him raping me yesterday and his comments afterward.  While wildly sexual in both of his attacks on me, he was not as sadistically brutal to me like the others.  My mind kept going around and around in seemingly random patterns, my thoughts disjointed and fuzzy.  I remembered the way he’d hammered me for what seemed like hours yesterday and then seemed to cum and cum and cum inside me.  And now, he was doing it again after having rested less than a day.  He was not a young man, so how was this possible?  Was this normal?

Suddenly, my stomach lurched and I turned my face to the side just as thin, foul-tasting bile rose from my stomach and trickled from the corner of my mouth onto the sheet.  Instinctively, I swallowed convulsively and got most of it back.  It was sour and burned since it was filled with stomach acid, and it epitomized my life. 

I had been “partied-up” by the full crew and their captain, and I just wanted to die. 

And torture can be employed to advantage as a penalty when the subject is far enough along with the treatment to accept punishment as deserved.  To this end I devised several forms of disciplinary procedure.  One was known as the Switchboard. Electric drills that can be turned on at any time are clamped against the subject's teeth; and he is instructed to operate an arbitrary switchboard, to put certain connections in certain sockets in response to bells and lights.  Every time he makes a mistake the drills are turned on for twenty seconds.  The signals are gradually speeded up beyond his reaction time.  Half an hour on the Switchboard and the subject breaks down like an overloaded thinking machine.

-William S. Burroughs, in Naked Lunch

Having just fucked her brains out, Bossman was feeling more relaxed now and was ready to continue with Victoria’s education.  He liked fucking her—no, he loved fucking her.  But she still had to learn to obey him.  He usually did this kind of training himself, but for some reason didn’t want to do it with her this time.  So he left her lying there with her hands tied to the head of the bed, but with her legs free for the first time in almost two days and went up on deck.  There he gave orders to the two men that Victoria had come to call Elvis and Dog Nose.

There was a small stun gun kept on the shelf over her head; not the model shaped like a gun, but the one shaped like a rod and which was used for infighting.  Elvis pulled this out, and after gagging her again, he put the two electrodes to the hairline on the left side of the blonde’s neck and mashed the trigger button, watching as her body arched up in uncontrolled spasms.  He almost felt like yelling “CLEAR,” like he had seen in the movies.  After fifteen seconds he let off on the button and her body slowly sank back to the bed where she lay twitching uncontrollably, eyelids half-closed, staring glassily at the ceiling.

Going over to the cupboard, he pulled out a roll of medical tape, a small box that had a slide on it like the controller on an electric train set, a small control board, two clamps, and a special dildo. 

Still conscious, she lay stunned and unmoving when Elvis leaned over and took most of her left breast into his mouth and began sucking.  Her nipple was at the back of his throat while the ring piercing it lay rough on his tongue.  There was a strong sweaty-salty taste associated with her nipple and within thirty seconds, it was erect and ready to be clamped.  Taking her breast out of his mouth, he noticed that when erect, her nipple stood up over half an inch.  Was there nothing about this slut that wasn’t special, he wondered to himself?

The nipple clamps used by Dog Nose had smooth jaws and strong springs.  They hurt a lot, he knew, since he’d tested them on himself.  After applying some conductive gel to prevent electrical burns, he attached a clamp to her hard pink button and then went through the same procedure with her other nipple.  As the second clamp was applied, she jerked her chest away from him and to the side, so he knew she was beginning to regain a little motor control.

Number Three and Number Four then grabbed Victoria’s ankles and stretched her out, spreading her legs wide and locking her ankles once more to the bed.  Then with Elvis looking on, Dog Nose took the double pronged dildo and lubricated it.  Two small metal leads were located on its tip and numerous metal contacts glistened on both shafts. 

The piece going into her vagina was about eight inches long and two inches thick.  The probe to be inserted up her anus was about one inch in diameter and about six inches long.  He smeared both with conductive gel and was trying to insert both of them into her together when she began weakly trying to fight him.  However, because both prongs were lubricated he had no problem finally sliding both pieces into Victoria up to the maximum possible depth.  Her eyes were closed and she was now taking heavy, deep breaths through her nose as he taped the base of the dildo in place, completing his initial preparations.

While Dog Nose was busy with the dildo, Elvis had been attaching clamps to both of her big toes and her ears.

Dog Nose looked up at the blonde girl’s face from between her thighs and with a laugh said, “Bitch, this is going to hurt you a hell of a lot more than it does any of the rest of us.  Young, arrogant cunts like you always need a taste of the juice early on to really learn a lesson.  Sort of acts as positive reinforcement.  Learned what that meant by listening to the Bossman.” 

He attached lead wires to each nipple clamp, to both contacts on the dildo and then to each toe and ear.  Running these to the control board, he attached them to eight of the more than twenty available receiver pegs.  The small variable output transformer was then attached to the control board and plugged into a wall receptacle at the side of Vicki’s prison bed. 

The danger from shock was not from voltage, but rather from amperage.  That is, all things being equal, it’s not the overall power that’s dangerous, but instead how quickly that power moves through your body.  That’s why even low voltage systems at home can be so dangerous---the current was moving fast.  As long as resistance is low—the way it is, say, when your skin was wet—a low voltage shock can be enough to cause ventricular fibrillation and immediate unconsciousness, maybe death.  But the team had been trained by experts, and it turned out there was a sweet spot for producing ventricular fibrillation—between 100 and 200 milliamps.  Below that bottom threshold, although the muscles in the vicinity of the shock might seize up, the heart itself wouldn’t be affected. 

The transformer-like box varied the maximum amount of electricity offered to the generally unwilling recipient.  While the voltage was set and would not change, the control panel generated a random sequence controlling the amperage of the electricity passed to the leads, which lead would receive the electricity and for what amount of time.

After taking a long look at her face, Dog Nose turned the transformer to about half strength and turned it on.  The control panel did not pass any juice through at first.  Suddenly, electricity flowed into both prongs of the dildo and the teenager’s hips arched up and began frantically jerking, almost vibrating as she pumped at the air.  Her eyes were open and she looked up but he could sense she no longer saw anything.  She gave out muffled squealing screams through her gag, “Mmmmfff”, Mmmmfffhh”, “Mmmmmfffhh” as her beautifully firm, well-fucked ass thrashed at least twelve inches off of the bed. 

Finally, after about ten seconds, she gave out a soft, muffled groan as she exhaled through her nose and lay back down.  Her body relaxed then—the shock was gone, switched off, but it was clear she could have no longer maintained the arch in any case. 

The electricity had fiercely traveled through the thin wall separating her vagina from her rectum, and each probe must have felt like it was both sending and receiving current at the same time.  The pain had to have been intense, her heart beating so hard she had had to have been afraid it would explode.

Dog Nose continued watching Vicki and for over half a minute, there was little movement except for a slow writhing movement from side to side and her heavy breathing, when suddenly she began screaming and frantically throwing her chest from side to side.

Gotta be getting it in both tits this time, he thought to himself.  She finally stopped screaming when the juice stopped and just cried. 

Since he didn’t want to kill her during the night, he made a couple of changes on the control panel.  Now, she would get random shocks every 3-10 minutes.  Next, he turned down the level of voltage to be passed on from the transformer.  The idea was to keep her guessing where the next set of shocks would occur and to wear her down physically by keeping her awake all night. 

Again she abruptly started screaming and throwing her head from side to side, must be the ears he reasoned.  The next set of shocks hit Victoria seven minutes later in her left toe and right nipple. 

Finally, she rode the electric train in her left nipple and anus; he noted the results were satisfactory—they didn’t seem strong enough to burn her, but they were more than enough to help her better understand her new role in life.  More importantly, they got her attention and would keep her awake all night long.

After watching for another ten minutes, Elvis and Dog Nose were satisfied she would survive the night.  The cabin had become hot and humid though, what with the sweaty cunt throwing herself around like a circus performer, so they opened a couple portholes to let in some night breeze.  Finally, they went upstairs to sleep on the deck under the stars and fully catch the nice evening breeze that their captive would only taste.  In fact, she was hit with the juice just as they began to climb to the outside deck and they heard her give out a long low “Unnnhnnnnnn” as they locked the cabin door behind them.  And as they did, her groan faded into silence.

A scream rang out in the cabin, silent except in my mind.  I lay on the bed below decks and writhed every time I was hit by a shock.  Sometimes, I would get shocked in my left nipple and anus.  Then five minutes later it bit my right nipple and vagina.  My nipples seemed to be on fire and I couldn’t predict what would be shocked or when.  Sometimes, I wouldn’t be shocked for over fifteen minutes and then it would hit my vagina or my poor torn and violated rectum just as I was falling asleep. 

Sometimes the shock would last only two or three seconds in my toe or ear.  Other times, it seemed to go on forever, lasting fifteen or twenty seconds.  Occasionally, the current was so strong it felt like my skin was burning; other times it was little stronger than an annoying tingle.  Always though, I remained awake and alert.  There was no way to prepare for this and no matter how exhausted I might be, I was awake all night with my body either convulsing at being shocked or twitching as I waited to be shocked.  There was no clock in the cabin and no way to tell how long this went on. 

The night seemed to last an eternity.

Day Three: The Prize Breaks

Think about the Holocaust.  Was the Holocaust a good thing?  No way. Does anybody think it was good that it happened?  No, of course not. But did you read Viktor Frankl? Viktor Frankl’s Man’s Search for Meaning?  It’s a great, great book, but it comes out of his experience.  It’s about his experience in the human dark side.  Now think about it, if there was no Holocaust, there’d be no Man’s Search for Meaning…  Think about it.  Think about being degraded and brought within an inch of your life, for example.  No one’s gonna say the sick bastards who did it shouldn’t be put in jail, but let’s put two things into perspective here.  One is, afterwards she knows something about herself that she never knew before.  What she knows is that the most totally terrible terrifying thing that she could ever have imagined happening to her has now happened, and she survived.  She’s still here, and now she knows something.  I mean she really, really knows.

-David Foster Wallace, in Brief Interviews with Hideous Men

Bossman came down and checked her out early next morning.  His prize was a mess, sweating and twitching all over her body, her eyes were glazed and red, and her hair greasy and matted with perspiration as it lay upon the mattress.  Thankfully there were no burn marks on her firm, young skin.  She had been serially abused for almost two days and had now gone for about forty-eight hours without sleep; she was physically exhausted as well as in significant pain. 

She must be softening up very nicely, he thought to himself. 

He turned the transformer off and even though her nipples had to still be in agony, she groaned softly in relief.  He first gently removed the nipple clamps and dildo, and her body seemed to melt into the sweaty, nasty smelly bedding as she could now finally relax.  Finally, he took of all of the remaining clamps and pulled out the electric double prong.

His nose twitched.  There was a sour smell about Victoria--her pussy smelled like her ass, and it all smelled like it belonged to the whore from hell.  Although providing sex to his crew for almost two days, she hadn’t really been allowed to bathe enough during that time and she did not now look nearly attractive as she had when first brought onboard the boat. 

He knew from experience it would become more difficult to motivate two of his crew as Vicki’s looks deteriorated and they got used to having her body.  Of course, the other two guys became more turned on the more they were allowed to abuse her.  They sometimes went overboard--these were the guys he had to watch since he didn’t want them maiming her.  He called up top and told everyone to come on down and help him clean the place up.

Elvis and Dog Nose were the first down and they wrinkled their noses as the smell hit them.  They were ordered to take her into the shower to clean her up, so they released her ankles, took off her sandals and cuffed her wrists behind her back.  The blonde bitch couldn’t walk by herself now and her head hung down as they carried/dragged her into the bathroom along with the dildo, which now needed cleaning.  The remaining two men came down next and opened the remaining portholes to let in fresh air before changing the bedding on the girl’s prison bed. 

I was exhausted and I couldn’t put two consecutive thoughts together.  They still kept me gagged, and though I had tried to swallow some of the shower water, little had made it past the black rubber that filled my mouth so I was still terribly thirsty. 

The rectal dildo had been cleaned in the shower, but from the aching emptiness I felt, I knew I still gaped wide open there.  I hadn’t eaten in a while and there was nothing left in me anymore.  My pride had been killed halfway through yesterday and my rage had died last night in the bed with me. 

Right now, my hair was wet from the shower and I smelled of soap.  I was ravenous with hunger and a thirst that had been minimally slaked.  But while my mind was still fuzzy from lack of sleep, it seemed that every part of my body hurt and was clamoring for attention. 

Despite these things, shaky determination filled me in sodden waves of uncertainty.  I would somehow do whatever they wanted, as long as they stopped hurting me.  I just had to tell them that they had won, without making Bossman feel like he had to punish me anymore.

Bossman ordered his captive to sit on the edge of the bed.  He looked at the girl’s red eyes and puffy face, then asked, “Feels good not having that thing stuck up your rear.  Do you think you can sit there and not say a word this time if I take your gag off? 

She quickly nodded her head yes. 

His face became real serious.  “If you fuck up this time, so help me God,” he said, “I will let these guys have you any way they want and then beat you half to death myself—is that clear?”  She nodded her head yes again. 

He looked into her eyes. “You’re property now.  I don’t want to hurt you, but you belong to me and you WILL obey me.  Am I clear?” 

Vic gulped, swallowing saliva as she nodded yes.

Up until now, everything done to her had gone according to a fairly detailed plan.  She had no way then of knowing that the plan for today consisted of no plan; she was to be their toy and they could pretty do to her whatever they pleased.  They had used the money Bossman had given them and in addition to clothing, had also picked up a lot of new stuff in Cancun to try out on the girl they would eventually take.  This was the day they had been looking forward to for over two weeks.

Bossman slowly took off her gag, and after she loosened her jaw muscles, he offered her chilled Gatorade through a straw.  At the same time, he hand dried her hair with a towel and then began to gently brush out some of the tangles in it.  Although his hands were tender as he did this, the kidnapped nineteen-year old girl couldn’t help herself.  She found herself shrinking away from him despite her efforts to control herself.  Her eyes unexpectedly filled with tears occasionally and she would sometimes startle or flinch at his treatment, reacting like a wild deer when frightened.  At the end, he put antiseptic cream on each breast and gently rubbed it around each hole piercing her nipples.  Finally, he told one of the men to put her sandals back on her feet. 

These acts of random kindness seemed to puzzle her; she didn’t realize he still needed her to be physically desirable to all of his crew and every bit helped, he thought.  Elvis and Dog Nose each grabbed a shoe and kneeling down, began to put her sandals on with slow loving caresses of her legs and thighs.  Her head rose on a stiff neck as she pulled away from the two men.  It was clear their touch disgusted her. 

After a moment, Bossman had Elvis offer her a large raw potato to eat.  Elvis thought it was crazy because he had to hold it for her, but she wolfed it down even though her jaws ached fiercely and she seemed to act like it one of the best breakfasts she’d ever eaten.  Finally, she washed down the vitamins and the supplements that he gave her.  This continued to be her food for many meals on the boat. 

Bossman taken enough females that he could tell she’d probably already cracked.  But after she’d finished eating and taken her vitamins, he put the blonde girl’s gag back in her mouth without allowing her to say one word to him of the metamorphosis she had undergone the previous night. 

He knew she’d wanted to say something, but he just didn’t want to hear it. 

She must be broken totally and completely---she must know in her soul that she had been broken---but that really didn’t matter right now.  The next phase in completely breaking her down was too important for her to be allowed to give up now. 

Before going back upstairs, he handed her off to Elvis without saying a word although his gaze spoke volumes—enjoy yourselves, but don’t fuck up the merchandize. 

He walked back up on deck and strolled over to a cushioned seat that let him see the view out from the back of the boat.  It was a beautiful morning.  Seagulls were flying above the boat, crying out and circling, waiting for any trash to be thrown overboard.  The sun was shining, there were few clouds in the sky and the breeze from offshore was steady but gentle, the temperature was just right and there was little humidity at the moment.  Bossman picked up his cooling coffee and sipped…what a wonderful day to be alive, he assured himself. 

Down below, all of the men were looking forward to the “anything goes” time today.  They all had watched her closely, all were the sort of men who made an art form of studying flaws and weaknesses.  They also knew they could pretty much do anything they wanted to the teenager, as long as she wasn’t permanently injured or marked.   They all took pride in trying to outdo each other and graded each other on how much reaction each could get from their victims. 

The girl had a few hard days coming up.

Your perspective on life comes from the cage you were held captive in.

-Shannon L. Alder

After I’d finished my meager breakfast, Bossman made me stand up and gagged me again without allowing me to speak.  This scared me because I now knew both that he had won, and that I would have told him this if he had only just let me say something.  I knew I had completely misread the situation at first.  Now I only wanted to survive and be allowed go back to my mom and dad after these men were done with me. 

But I was afraid to make him angry by speaking without having permission to do so.  I’d been able to withstand the rape and somehow survived even being sodomized for a day.  I knew I was screwed up; I twitched at nothing and jumped at every unexpected sound.  I was hyper-alert—I always knew where the men were and it seemed like my hearing had improved a thousand percent, at least I was always listening to these people. 

But my anger and rage had not been able to help me fight the electricity and the clamps and the machine.  It seemed like the harder I fought them, the more they enjoyed it.  They had made it a point to let me know that there were so many things left that they could still take away.  For the first time, it seemed now that they were prepared to kill me to break me, and only Bossman could control them.

My wrists were still tied behind my back and I was wearing only my high heeled sandals and the ball gag.  My neck and my ears hurt.  My jaw ached from having the large gag stretch my jaw muscles for so long, and my saliva was still building up--what I couldn’t swallow, drooled embarrassingly out of the side of my mouth. 

My nipples were sore and inflamed from being pierced and clamped, and I had lost much of the feeling in my arms because of the way my wrists had been bound over my head for the last two days. 

Dog Nose suddenly grabbed my arm and began dragging me back to the bed.  I hadn’t noticed Elvis sitting on the edge of the bed, now naked and stroking his cock.  I saw his tool was ready for me and I began to shake my head nnnooo, didn’t they know, couldn’t they tell that they’d already won?

Dog Nose and Elvis had decided to start off today by team banging Victoria.  To get her full attention, he added additional leather cuffs around her arms above the elbows and tightly locked them together, thus putting even more strain on her shoulders.  Her huge eyes got even larger and filled with tears.  Dog Nose then roughly turned her around so that she was facing him when the remaining two guys came in on opposite sides and grabbed her; each man grabbed one of her arms and put his other hand on the back of her thigh. 

When Elvis pushed Vicki back toward the bed, Number Three and Number Four caught her behind her thighs with their hands and raised her legs up, so that they could hold her in a seated position in the air.  The girl closed her eyes and remained still, she seemed resigned to it all and never struggled.  As a further indignity, they pulled her knees apart so that she was exposed and totally helpless.  Her back to him, the guys slowly lowered her down upon Elvis’s lap as he parted her ass cheeks with his hands. 

Adrenaline hit with burst of energy.  It did not last her long.  She tried to struggle a little, but there was no way to get traction with my feet in the air.  Fighting them just didn’t do any good—it was hopeless.  His long thin erection perfectly pinpointed her poor, stretched out rectum and as they lowered Vicki onto him, the weight of her own body ensured that she was smoothly, slickly, completely impaled.  It was not quite as painful as it had been yesterday, but the feeling of total, completely uncomfortable fullness made me want to defecate. 

Elvis ignored her muffled protests, grabbing her hair and leaning back on pillows stacked on the bed, he pulled the kidnapped blonde with him.  He had achieved complete possession of her, for during this whole movement she never once felt him leave my body. 

By this time, the two men holding her had changed their grips on her legs, now forcing Vicki’s knees into a locked position against her chest with her legs spread wide and feet pointing at the ceiling.  Totally defenseless in this position, it was now that Dog Nose climbed up on her and with one move of his hips, plunged his hot cock into her wide open and available pussy.  At the same time, Elvis let go of Vic’s hair and reached down to take a double handful of the girl’s ass, both to make sure that she couldn’t hurt him with any movement she might make as well as to assert his dominance over her. 

Only nineteen and still inexperienced at sex, yet here I was.  I had been taken against my will, beaten and tortured, raped and sodomized.  Now I was sandwiched between two men and both began deep stroking into my body.  I couldn’t help myself, I cried out involuntarily with almost every thrust because of the awful intensity of the sensations. 

After a couple of minutes I stopped trying to fight and just lay there passively, letting them take want they wanted, groaning only when I couldn’t help myself.  While these two men were buried deeply in me, the other two took delight in letting me know that I was learning how to ride the “double pommel” and laughing at the looks of pained shock on my face.

Young and naïve, I didn’t know how to process the feelings and sensations that ripped through me, which threatened to overwhelm me.  The thin flesh wall separating my vagina from my colon had not been burned by the dildo last night, but was now exquisitely sensitive due to the electrical stimulation.  The men assaulting me filled me with disgust, yet when these creatures filled me at the same time like this, somehow far away in my mind a part of me, only the tiniest part, admitted that these same sensations might also be wonderful if only it was I who had chosen to experience them, if I would allow myself to give in to them. 

The thought of surrendering to these animals shamed me all over again; I gritted my teeth and forced myself to not fight them.  I ignored the hot flush of embarrassment on my face, and my dangerous thoughts were gone in another instant.

Now they changed their rhythm of penetration, alternating their strokes, with one slamming in as the other was withdrawing.  They did this for a minute and then got back into sync again, causing that awful friction once more between the wall separating my vagina and anus.  I was totally passive, having quickly given up and truly yielded my body to them as both my energy and will power ran out together.  I was ruined at this point, lying between them like a broken doll, but they didn’t even know it.

Finally, it was time.  I knew this from the increasingly frantic grunts from both men.  Dog Nose signified his immanent release by increasing the violence of his lunges into my pussy.  He groaned and was the first to cum, filling me with the now familiar deep-but-quick blossom of lava heat which signified I had again been forced to accept his seed.  Even though breathing hard, he quickly dismounted, leaving only Elvis beneath me, yet still inside me.

The man beneath me had a better range of penetration now that Dog Nose was gone.  He grabbed my tender breasts and pulled me hard back onto him.  I cried out from the sudden blossom of deep discomfort in my colon, but lacking the energy to resist; I had no will to fight or to respond. 

My eyes were closed and my face was covered by my hair; when the back of my head wasn’t resting on his chest, it flopped back and forth like a rag doll with each thrust into my rear end.  My bound arms had been numb for a while, but were far worse now locked behind my back at the elbows, while and my legs were sprawled wide in what my mother would say was definitely an unladylike pose and draped outside his thighs, allowing him full access.  There was pain everywhere in my body, but I was separated from it by a thin wall of cotton in my mind, so it didn’t hurt quite so much.  I didn’t particularly feel anything at that moment because I was so awfully tired, so completely exhausted.  I certainly didn’t notice that Dog Nose had now gone upstairs. 

My body was clearly his to use.  When Elvis finally came deep within me, it didn’t seem to give him the release he’d sought because he continued holding me tightly to him.  With every remaining spurt of scalding hot semen into me, he used my breasts as handles to pull me ever further onto him and tighter onto his lap, as if to gain some additional small but necessary penetration into my body. 

Even satiated, he continued to pull on my breasts and, watching as if from a distance, I knew I would have screamed from the pain if I could.  Finally, his need satisfied at least temporarily, he froze for just a moment before pushing me off of his lap with a snarl of disgust as his still-hard erection unseated from my rectum with a sucking, popping nose. 

I tried to catch myself as I fell off the edge of the bed, but with my wrists still bound, I stumbled and almost lost my balance.  I was caught by one of the two remaining men.  The relief I felt as he unplugged from my body was immense.  I stood between these two, my knees unsteady, my engorged vagina and suddenly aching anus leaking strings of pearly-white cum that quickly cooled on the insides of my thighs and between my legs. 

It was not the high-point of my day, nor, in hind-sight, was it meant to be.  I was nothing but a toy being handed around.  And emotionally, I wasn’t doing too well either…….

Through a barely functioning mind, I somehow realized there was a definite pecking order here.  These men who held me now had always taken me last; their faces were a blur yesterday and the day before that, as they were now.  I couldn’t think straight anymore and my head felt like my mind still felt as if were packed in fuzzy cotton.  Except for short periods of something that resembled a trance, I’d been awake for almost fifty-two hours straight at this point.  I was hallucinating at times and my body was finding new and unique ways of telling me that it was shutting down.  I would find my mind wandering, not remembering what had happened even five minutes before, no matter how awful.  Sometimes I thought this might be a blessing and sometimes I thought I was losing my mind.

It was Number Three’s turn now and he thought he’d give it to the not-quite-new bitch while she was standing up this time.  He grabbed a thick piece of rope he’d brought down with him and passed it through an unobtrusive set of pulleys located at the center of the cabin ceiling.  He then walked back to the blonde teenager they most definitely going to turn into a whore, grabbed her hair and marched her to the center of the cabin. 

Her eyes had been closed after being fucked by the other two men and then being discarded like the trash she was, but they now looked at him without understanding.  The bitch is out of it, he thought to himself with coarse amusement.  She’s gonna wake up soon with this! 

I blinked my eyes and came back.  I had no idea what was going through his mind, but I could see the amusement on his face he felt at my expense.  He took a free end of the rope and tied it to the lock which connected my wrist cuffs together.  Going to the remaining free end of the rope, he took it to the wall where a hand crank had been unprofessionally mounted.  After threading it into the crank, Number Three began turning the crank’s handle, forcing my arms up behind my back until they were almost parallel to the cabin floor. 

I would have screamed, but I was screamed out.  Still being bound at the elbow and wrist, I was forced to push my upper body forward and down to reduce the stress on my shoulders and lower back.  It was painful hanging from the rope like this.  Looking down at the floor, I saw him kneel in front of me and lay a thick iron bar near my feet in order to attach it to my ankle cuffs.  First however, he rotated my ankle cuffs so that the ring on each was facing to the front towards my toes.  The bar he’d brought in had loops welded to each end, and when hooked to the cuffs, it forced my legs over three feet apart.  Looking up at me with a smile, he attached the bar to the front of the ankle cuffs. 

Finally, he lowered the iron bar onto the upper part of each of my feet right over my arches.  The bar remained there, held in place by the way it was locked to my ankles.  The bar weighed probably weighed somewhere between fifteen and twenty pounds.  With it hanging from my ankle cuffs like this, each of my arches now had at least eight or ten pounds of iron resting on them. 

Within seconds the blunt weight of the bar began to feel like it was crushing my bones, cutting my feet in half.  Helplessly bound, bent over and facing the floor, my tears silently splashed onto the cold metal that was doing its best to pulverize the bones of each of my feet.  I was so tired, so frustrated with being tired.  All I could do anymore it seemed was cry, and I was so tired of crying. 

Number Three walked around behind her and was gone from her sight, returning in seconds with a set of metal clamps with flat, quite wide lips.  He knelt and attached one clamp to each of her vaginal lips, well-exposed from the back between of her widespread thighs. 

While the pinching pressure had to be intensely painful, it didn’t seem to be able to compete with the other areas of her body currently under stress, and consequently he couldn’t seem to get a reaction when he clamped her.  She just sniffed.  It was only when he hung one pound weights on each clamp that she began to buck and struggle, giving out muffled shrieks in what he felt was a satisfactory manner. 

Next he brought out two large wooden clamps with one inch wide flat jaws normally used for gluing wood projects.  There were two handles on each clamp used to tighten the clamp, one on each jaw.  Number Three put the first clamp on Vicki’s left breast as it hung down from her chest wall and clamped it down, smashing and squeezing her breast until it looked like she was having a ‘super’ mammogram.  The clamp weighed over three pounds and dragged down hard on her breast as she stood in her bent over position.  After applying the second clamp, he thought she might almost be ready.

He stood back and watched her for a couple of minutes and felt himself getting hard just watching her helplessness.  Lower back had to be killing her at this point.  When the girl finally stopped her weak struggles, she just stood there with her knees shaking.  At this point, he couldn’t stand it anymore and he walked up behind, spread her ass cheeks and plunged his unlubricated cock up to the hilt into her ass in one long and smooth, yet continuously brutal thrust. 

The beautiful blonde teenager’s head snapped up in reaction to his move and she cried out then groaned softly, but it was a measure of how much she had already gone through and of how tired she must have been that there was little other reaction to his brutal anal penetration.  Her head fell forward again, but now it sort of rose and fell in time with his thrusts into her rear.  Stupid girl was nothing more than a marionette at the moment, and about as satisfying too. 

After a moment, he grabbed the bitch’s hips and began to pump his meat in and out of her asshole.  He finally got his reaction as tears of pain, but mostly humiliation ran down her cheeks and she made small moaning noises deep in her throat.  After only a few minutes of his making love to her ass, a shudder went through her body when he finally shot his load into her. 

Other than a few sounds and some minor full-body shakes, he thought the bitch was almost catatonic.  Disappointed at not getting more reaction, he pulled out and left her alone.  As he moved away, the man felt no sympathy as he took one last look at their new fuck-piece: upper body hunched over like a cripple shaking as she silently wept, legs spread wide, another man’s cum mixed with his, both still draining out of her angry red asshole. 

After fifteen minutes, he’d had a chance to catch his breath and have a cigarette on deck, so he finally went back into her cabin, knelt down and removed the breast and vaginal clamps and the iron bar from her ankles.  Putting his left hand under her belly to hold her, he released the rope that pulled Victoria’s arms towards the ceiling. 

As he did so, he could feel her body collapse onto his arm as the rope began to go slack.  Number Three let her fall to the floor where she lay as he cleaned and put away his toys.  Finally, he picked up the still virtually senseless girl and carried her to the bed where he laid her down, removed the bindings from around her elbows and went out into the galley.

Like a ball flung through a curtain made of black cobwebs, I felt myself come back to reality.  My body felt cocooned in sheer discomfort, smothered in waves of pain.  I blinked my eyes and tried to remember how I had gone from hanging from ropes to lying on the bed.  But it was just too difficult to remember any details. 

The day had barely begun and already my joints and muscles ached, and I felt exhausted.  Despite the pain however, my thoughts were still clear enough to recognize that what I was feeling was as much emotional as it was physical.  In addition to everything else I was psychologically depressed, not just physically tired. 

Too young to really know much about the subject, a part of me wondered if a person could suffer from PTSD during the traumatic event, or was it normally only afterwards?

Regardless of my emotional state, I had laid motionless on the bed for less than five minutes when Number Four slowly walked into the cabin.  With a sense of rising yet still exhausted fear, I saw he carried a piece of leather equipment in one hand and a coil of thin manila rope in the other.  I turned my face away.  I was too exhausted to fight them.  Besides, it just didn’t matter anymore what they had in their hands, it all was meant to humiliate me and cause me pain.

And in this effort, they had succeeded beyond their wildest expectations.  Everything here was choreographed, nothing was here by chance, and it had been done so quickly and with a presence towards casualness that would have infuriated me if they’d left me any strength or the will to fight.  They had taken me and maneuvered me emotionally and psychologically towards whatever goal they desired.  There were going to do what they wanted to do, and then, if there was a God, he would let me die. 

Number Four grabbed my left ankle and dragged me towards him—I didn’t resist in any way.  When I was near the side of the bed, he untied my ball gag and took it out.  I had barely licked my dry lips when he proceeded to pull what he said was a leather, full-discipline helmet over my head.  A critical part of the helmet consisted of a built-in detachable penis gag that was two inches in diameter and long enough to go to the back of my throat. 

I felt his hands go to the straps in back where he tightened the helmet; I could neither see nor hear, and could not easily breathe through the new gag.  Where before I had felt physically exhausted, now I was suddenly filled with dread and felt the first trickles of claustrophobia.  I began breathing faster and faster through my nose, and when it seemed that I could not get enough air to fill my lungs, claustrophobia grabbed my mind and shook it like a cat might play with a helpless mouse. 

I was completely helpless at that moment and my imagination began to run wild.  I struggled then, but it was no use. 

He apparently grabbed the ring on the top of the helmet since I felt myself being dragged me off of the bed and onto the floor, then lying on my stomach, he dragged me a little more before finally stopping.  I gained more bruises than I should have because my wrists were still bound behind my back, but he didn’t care.

When my senses returned I discovered I had been blindfolded and trussed into the “pretzel” position.  Thick leg irons shackled my ankles, my wrists were tied behind me, and a rope bound my elbows just above the joints.  The guards tightened the bindings by putting their feet against my arms and pulling the ropes until they couldn’t pull any harder.  Then they tied my wrists to my ankles and jammed a 10-foot pole between my back and elbows.  After a few hours the leg irons began to press heavily on my shins and feet like a vise.  The ropes strangled my flesh, causing searing pain and making my arms go numb and slowly turn black.

-Tom Moe, in Pure Torture

He liked to fuck the new girls, but he enjoyed torturing them more.  It was the best of all worlds when he got to do both.  Grabbing a short piece of loose rope, Number Four wrapped it high around their new fuck-cunt’s left thigh three times before tying it off.  He then bent her knee and using his full weight against her weak struggles, finally pushed her left ankle tightly against the back of her thigh.  Running the free end of the rope through the stupid bitch’s ankle cuff, he pulled down on the rope, thus pinning the back of her heel to the back of her thigh.  Finally tying off the loose end back around her thigh, he quickly did the same to her right foot and voila, the young, dumbass cunt found herself unable to move her feet in any way.

Number Four looked down at the stupid bitch lying helplessly on the floor at his feet and it pleased him.  He had some plans for her today and they didn’t involve playing patty cake.  She obviously wasn’t going anywhere so he walked over to a locker built into the wall and pulled out a thick piece of manila rope.  After a moment, he glanced at the pulley that was still connected to the cabin ceiling.  With small smile on his face, he congratulated himself for recognizing that the two went together like peanut butter and jelly, one of his all-time favorite combinations. 

Out of the same locker, he next pulled out a foldable saw horse that had a polished piece of ½ inch wide blonde Norwegian pine connecting the two sets of legs.  Setting this up under the pulley and locking the legs in place, Number Four dragged his bitch over to the “horse” using her helmet and pulled her to her knees. 

While standing at her back, he ran the rope under her right armpit and around her chest above her sweaty breasts before running it back under her left armpit from the front.  He tied the loose end to the rope at Vicki’s back, resulting in a fairly loose loop around her body with the free end in back.  Taking this free end, he threaded it through the pulley in the ceiling and then to the crank.  After attaching the rope to the drum of the crank, he started turning the crank.

It was like I was watching an old black and white movie.  I was aware, sort of, but I wasn’t, if that makes any sense.  There was no swaying.  I could tell the boat was riding on a flat sea as I felt my body immediately lifted off of the floor, supported only by the rope around my upper chest.  Because of the way the rope was tied in back, my body naturally tilted to the front.  I thought to myself, I’d better move now.  But nothing did, nothing worked. 

I felt a stop in my upward movement, and unknown scraping sound, and then I felt myself being lowered again.  Very quickly I felt a thin piece of wood rising between the insides of my thighs as I continued to be lowered.  For a short moment I didn’t think much about it, but with a stomach-turning sensation, I quickly realized the whole weight of my body would soon be resting on this tiny sliver of wood. 

This horrendous realization caused a quick panic attack.

Even though my legs were bound and helpless, I tried to stop my body’s descent by gripping the board with the insides of my thighs.  I knew it was hopeless from the beginning but I had to try.  I began to sweat with my exertion and with a sickening sensation, it seemed like only seconds before the wood began to once more slide between my sweat-greased thighs. 

As I slid, millimeter by millimeter, I still fought to prevent this awful fate.   I sensed an increasingly solid presence on the front of my pelvis, centered between my legs.  I struggled more and more frantically.  Suddenly this hint of pressure became crushing and unbearable.  The full weight of my body was centered on my pubic bone, pinning my clitoris between the wood and my hips.  All I remember at that point is throwing my head back and incoherently screaming with pain, but the black rubber pear filling my mouth kept the sounds in. 

I am sure this is what they had planned from the beginning. 

My body was shaking uncontrollably now and sweat was now pouring off of me in waves as I tried to throw myself backwards to relieve the horrific pressure on my clit.  However, because of the way they had purposefully tied me, the front of my groin remained fully pinned on the board by my weight. 

I momentarily rocked my body then, desperately struggling to find a less horrendous position.  However, nothing seemed to work.  It seemed that within minutes, the pain had reached a crescendo, and then…and then…a red curtain seemed to fall over my mind.  The pain was awful and getting worse.  Each new pressure, each new sensation ripped through me, carrying my pain to almost exquisite new levels as the slightest move of my body now brought delicate new revelations from each nerve in my body. 

My mind wasn’t working at this point, I guess from lack of sleep.  All I know is that as I sat hunched over in the darkness, I felt this almost incredible compulsion to rock on the thin board I rode, knowing full well that the more I moved, the more it would injure me, bruise me.  I cannot even begin to describe the urge.  It wasn’t logical and didn’t make sense, and I even knew, AT THAT TIME, that it was counter-productive, that it wouldn’t help anything.  But it was the sort of thing you’d do anyway because somehow, in some awful black-is white and white-is–black sort of way, it actually felt good.  All I knew was that there was this tiny, ruby red pin-point area of intense pain between my legs and suddenly I wanted to explore it.  God help me, I was in the worst pain of my life and I had an overpowering urge to investigate its limits. 

I knew then I was going absolutely insane.

Number Four watched the blonde cunt closely as he lowered her upon the wooden horse.  The stupid bitch probably thought they were on a date or something.  Funny.  The Bossman had told him that there were to be no permanent marks or serious injuries left on this blonde teenaged beauty.  He’d helped other ladies become familiar with his favorite ride before and none of them had ever been much the worse for wear—perhaps a little sore for a while.  That was all. 

So why was this one any different?  Anyway, just like the others, this bitch had started bucking as soon as there’d been a little pressure from the wood on her pussy and he wondered how she’d handle the next half an hour or so of riding time.

I’d settled down after a couple of minutes and while I wasn’t moving around like before, I was still covered in sweat and quivering all over like a newborn foal.  Through the red fog which curtained my mind, I occasionally felt the need to move.  Sometimes I tightened my abdominal muscles, held them taut for as long as I could and then loosened them again.  Other times, I rocked back and forth a little.  A few times I squeezed my thighs together and held the embrace for a few seconds before relenting.  Everything helped take my mind off of my situation a little, but nothing really helped. 

I guess it was then he finally decided it was time for the next couple of steps. 

Number Four took out a couple of special nipple clamps and clicked them to make sure each was ready.  He knew the sounds wouldn’t frighten the bitch much yet because she couldn’t really hear anything with the hood on.  Plus, from what he understood, she wasn’t the type who’d know what they were anyway.  The clamps were spring loaded and had smooth jaws; but there was also a finger screw to tighten the clamp down when necessary. 

The new whore jerked when her first nipple was clamped.  Her faceless head began to make a quick back and forth motion almost like a chicken might.  After a moment of thrashing like this, she froze on the “horse” again.  It was an overpoweringly erotic sight to him, her nipple clamped and magnificent, sweaty breasts heaving, hands cuffed and head covered by the hood, her knees spread to accept the horse while her feet were hogtied to the backs of her thighs. 

Her head lolled down again, chin almost on her chest, and the only visible movement was the heaving of her gorgeous breasts.  While the pain from having her nipple crushed may have been awful, he knew it was nothing compared to the pain that moving on the horse brought to her genitals.  When he put on the second clamp, her body swayed only a small amount before assuming the original upright position again.  Good, he thought, the bitch was learning a little control.

When I felt the first clamp attached to my right nipple and then tightened, I screamed, making an involuntary movement away from the intense pain.  Pain shot up from between my legs and my whole body shuddered as waves emanated from my groin and spread throughout my body.  

When the clamp was applied to my left nipple, somehow I controlled myself even though the massive currents of pain began anew in both my nipples and my vagina.  At this point, I could feel the sweat running off of me in rivulets. 

Finally, Number Four was ready to apply the coup de grace to his helpless date.  He grabbed one of the thin ropes he’d walked in with and tied it to the rope that went around the girl’s chest.  He then began wrapping the rope tightly around the base of her left breast, making it swell to a fullness that far exceeded what she normally exhibited.  After four tight wraps around her breast, he kept the tension up and tied the free end back to the rope around her chest. 

The American teenager’s breast immediately began to turn a dark red from the blood trapped in it.  A tracery of veins quickly stood out beneath her fair skin and the texture of the skin on her breast took on an odd, almost rubbery feeling.  Her nipple became even more engorged and erect and the overall effect was exactly what he wanted.  He quickly wrapped her right breast and tied it off as he had with the left.  Bitch was crying now, actually had been crying for a while, but he’d been too busy fucking with her to really pay attention. 

He looked at the young fuck-sow as she now rode the “horse” with her breasts bound and nipples clamped hard, her wrists bound behind her back and a hood depriving her of any sensory input. 

Okay.  That was just about that, he thought with satisfaction and walked away to get a cold diet coke.  He figured a naive, inexperienced piece of ass like her would be medium rare and ready after maybe thirty minutes or so, so he went up on deck to pass the time catching some rays.

My body was nothing but pain, waves and waves of pain.  It consumed my mind and every nerve in my body and never seemed to end.  Eventually I couldn’t help myself and just began a slow, short rocking movement in an attempt to find some release from the pain.  God!!  Nothing worked.  Somehow, I actually hurt even more if that was possible.  I knew now that yesterday I’d been lying to myself when I thought I was ready to tell them that they had won--because now I admitted that deep inside my soul there still had been a small, quiet spot where I’d vowed to continue to fight. 

But the sex and pain they were inflicting on me today, now, when combined with all I had already gone through, told me that they were just too strong for me.  For the first time, I knew they’d just keep on going until they had won or I was dead.  Finally, I couldn’t help it---it became too much to even hold my head up and my head sagged all the way down on my chest---in my mind, I had already totally surrendered to my captors.

Number Four went back into the cabin after forty-five minutes and found the new bitch sitting motionlessly on her wooden ride.  Her upper body had collapsed over her hips as much as the suspending rope allowed.  Every ten or fifteen seconds, there was a deep convulsive snort as she took deep, yet unsatisfactory breaths through her nose and then she became still again.  He winced with unplanned sympathy as he looked at her bound chest.  Her breasts seemed to throb, actually swelling as he looked at them and sweat was running off of her thighs in small rivers. 

Nodding with satisfaction at her state, he untied the end of the rope which kept the cunt suspended, and began to hoist her up.  As usual, women like this one didn’t get it, and she began to struggle weakly for a moment.  He pulled her up and over the horse and then lowered her once more motionless body to the ground.  Like a cadaver, while her knees may have hit first, she just crumpled bonelessly over on her side as more rope was let out. 

After first removing the loop of rope from under her arms, he dragged the teenager over to the bed, picked her up and laid her down upon it.  Making small rocking movements at first like someone afflicted with autism, she soon lay still. 

 

She lay quietly on her side then as he released her ankles from their bonds to her thighs and roughly straightened out each of her legs.  The girl screamed loudly into her gag as each movement of her legs caused cramps and obvious pain.  Next he took the hood off, but detached the gag and left it unsecured in her mouth. 

The muscles in my legs felt like they had exploded as he untied my ankles and slowly straightened them.  I couldn’t move either of my legs on my own at first and the pain seemed to take forever to die down.  I had neither the strength nor will power to even try to dislodge the gag with my tongue.  While my eyes were tightly closed shut, tears welled from under my eyelids and streamed down my face at what had been done to my legs and my vagina.  I somehow felt emotionless and numb, yet in another way filled to the brim with agony at what they’d done to me. 

I didn’t want to look.  I was afraid to see what he had done to me. 

My breasts were still bound and throbbed with each beat of my heart.  My legs were somehow both numb and cramped from having been tied for so long.  Both knees refused to work; they ached with an increasing urgency that would soon threaten to overwhelm my shockingly reduced world as the blood flow was re-established.  And worst of all, my terrible world was filled with horrific pain from having ridden the contraption I could still see off to one side. 

Pain.  Hurt.  Ache.  Agony.  All just words.  These are nothing but words.

There were no words to describe what I had felt, what I was feeling.  In the end, I pulled my misery in around me like a comforting blanket and I just endured.  That is all I can say, I endured. 

Finally, after long minutes, the waves of pain peaked and then ebbed slightly, and I was able to open my eyes for the first time.  Looking at him over my swollen, blackening breasts, I saw to my horror that he was sexually aroused, hat his penis was both erect and huge. 

How much more could one person endure? 

I was only nineteen years old and came from a good family.  I was not a person who was mean to others nor was I someone who mistreated animals.  I volunteered for charities and like most others my age, wanted nothing but good for everyone. 

I had done nothing to deserve this except maybe doubt climate change.  Just a little. 

I began to weep again.  I DID NOT DESERVE THIS!!

But it was my fate.

He saw me looking at him through my teary eyes…and he looked back at me for a second like I was nothing more than a furnishing, a mindless animal to be used and discarded when finished.  After a long moment during which neither us moved or even breathed, with a smile on his face he slowly began stroking himself. 

It seemed to go on forever, but probably lasted no more than a minute or two.  His reddened organ finally began leaking pre-ejaculate fluid.  I couldn’t move and I couldn’t fight: I closed my eyes once more in despair as I turned my face away from him. 

Finally, he couldn’t hold himself in anymore and he leaned over my body and, using my hair to make me face him, ejaculated onto my face and still-bound breasts.  After what he had already done to me, this was less than a minor humiliation.  Somehow mentally prepared for this indignity, except for closing my eyes I never reacted when his hot seed splattered on me.  While it was truly demeaning in fact, it was far better than being raped by one of them again. 

Finished with depositing his fluids on my helpless body, he looked at me for a second like I was a bug.  From his expression I knew they thought they now had a slave that was ready to undergo their “serious” training. 

I turned my face away from him and found I was unconsciously rocking my body again.  I forced myself to stop. 

I think maybe they were right. 

He looked at the new girl for a moment.  Lines and strings of thick, still-warm cum covered her face and breasts.  Her long blonde hair was sweaty and matted; it looked greasy, stringy, as if it hadn’t been washed in days.  Bags under her eyes, her skin sallow after only two days and stinking of sweat and stale lovers.  Damn woman, he thought to himself.  Despite her incredible natural beauty, she looked ten times worse than normal at the moment. 

The young bitch kept her eyes closed most of the time now; her face was deep red in color and covered with fine beads of sweat.  What was most amazing to him was that despite everything she still looked pretty good.  Of course, no one really expected her to look her best what with all they’d done to her.  Once she’d been fully broken and had had some time to recover, maybe get some sleep, use a little makeup, she’d be back to her normal level of natural beauty. 

After a moment, he went to work freeing her bound and pierced breasts.  She did not resist as he rolled her onto her back on top of her bound wrists.  Her shoulders were definitely gonna be fucked up when they untied her wrists.  Both breasts bulged straight into the air and were now completely engorged with trapped blood, being almost black in color.  Her nipples were standing hugely erect, and looked both inflamed and tender.  The rings were almost invisible in the swollen flesh of each breast, leaving only dimples on each side to show where her skin had been pierced. 

First he removed the right nipple clamp and unwrapped her breast.  Immediately she started making a muffled wailing sound and her upper body began thrashing around, shaking her head back and forth with the intensity of the pain as the blood was again allowed to circulate. 

Now open, her green eyes seemed to see nothing as she moved to the sound of an internal music, a collage of pain which totally consumed her at the moment.  Number Four watched as the pain seemed to reach a crescendo and then decline as within minutes she writhed less, although she still moaned softly into her gag. 

When he removed her left nipple clamp and unwrapped that breast, her body again rocked back and forth slowly in defiance of her will, repeating her pain-dance again for Number Four’s pleasure.  All fight was gone, the new bitch was well and truly fried.  He knew he had most definitely won and that best of all, she had lost. 

This had been all any of them had wanted from the very beginning.  He walked away a happy and contented man.  .

I was lying on the bed with my eyes closed, his fluids sticky and still drying on my face and chest.  My breast didn’t hurt like they once had, but there was still pain and it was different from before.  He had really hurt me.  I was exhausted and once more didn’t care what happened to me.  This was a state in which I seemed to exist more and more often now. 

Bossman came down so quietly I was not aware at first he was even in the cabin looking at me.  He saw they had left me without anything in my rear end and I still had the unsecured penis gag in my mouth, although accumulated saliva drooled out the corner of my mouth.  As he walked back up on deck, I heard him tell Number Four to “….gag and bag her.” 

My heart sank and my eyes teared once again as I continued to listen in.  Other than that, he told them, they were free to continue.  For the next five hours, I was left to the tender care of the four men in his crew—they were happy, but not particularly merciful…..

I’d learned to hate the gags.  It didn’t matter what shape or color or length or texture.  For some reason, once I’d become used to it, the awful rubber piece in my rear didn’t seem to hammer my mind as much as did the gags.  The former caused me discomfort and humiliation, but for some reason it didn’t fully represent as complete a domination of me as did the mouth gag.  I finally understood my screams of pain were never going to be heard by anyone.  There was no practical need for the gag, they used it as a tool against my mind rather than for any useful reason. 

Later, upon reflection, I realized that keeping the rubber in my mouth seemed to also in some weird psychological way to keep in all the pain they visited upon me---forced me to marinate in my anguish---like I was a piece of meat in some giant, evil pressure cooker.  Being able to speak, to communicate, was one of the key aspects of being a person, so the psychological impact of being continually gagged was a huge part of their battle against me. 

Worst of all, whether or not I understood exactly what they were doing to me didn’t matter.  For understanding did not, in any way, reduce the effectiveness of what they did to me.  And as long as they kept the lid on--kept these particular pieces of my pain inside me using a piece of rubber in my mouth--that gag would somehow in the end give them confirmation of how successful they’d been with breaking me. 

I knew I was psychologically fixated on the gag, but it was beyond me at that moment to do otherwise.  I think that if I had perhaps been allowed to let out this anguish as I was being violated, even while remaining just as helpless, I would have somehow been left “cleaner” and would have ultimately felt less corrupted inside. 

I know it was stupid and that my mind wasn’t working very well, but the whole situation would have been unimaginable to me less than a week ago.

At the end of a long day, around 4 PM, when everybody but the girl had been up on deck just long enough to get a beer, Bossman told them to break out the new machine and to get their “guest” set up for an hours’ ride. 

Untried as of yet, the men had talked about how to best tie up a woman in order to take advantage of the machine’s full range of motion.  They finally decided to use a light steel bar that was about four feet long and which had rings welded on each end and in the center.  They’d hook it under the heels of the woman’s shoes and then bind her feet to the rings on the bar using her ankle cuffs. 

Any elbow cuffs were to be taken off and then the cunt’s wrists (still bound behind her back) were to be tied to the center of the bar.  The tighter the rope, the more it would force her to arch her hips and back in an attempt to relieve the pressure on her lower back and shoulder joints. 

All the men grimaced in sympathy.  If not for testing the new machine, they would have freed her wrist tonight.  The girl was already going to have issue with her shoulders because she’d been bound with her wrists in back for too long.  All the girls did during this breaking-in period.  Well, they’d just have to take that into account later. 

Given how tightly her arms had to be stretched in order to attach them to the bar, they knew their victim would also be forced to spread her knees wide apart and keep them that way.  Finally, they would pull her to the foot of the bed and tie the iron bar to the bed frame.  No matter what they did to the female then, her body would remain open and exposed where it was and not be pushed up towards the head of the bed.

The pear was a torture device used on females.  This device was inserted into the vagina, or mouth of the victim and then expanded by force of the screw to the maximum aperture setting of the victim’s cavity.  The antrum would then irremediably become lacerated, nearly always fatally, ripping the tissue, flesh and membranes.

-Graham, on Soldat Forums

The men went down into the cabin and tied their victim as they had agreed, taking about ten minutes to complete everything.  With the unresisting teenager now lying helpless and immobilized, her hips arched up in a totally vulnerable position, Dog Nose went out into the galley and pushed a low table back into the cabin.  The table was mounted on wheels that locked and which had a small machine with a wheel on the side mounted in its center.  There was a long bar horizontally attached to the wheel and it protruded parallel to the deck a couple feet from the front of the machine. 

With his back blocking the girl’s view, he proceeded to screw a thick, twelve inch long gel-rubber dildo on the end of the shaft and then he lubricated the outside.  Turning back to the bound girl and carefully guiding the end of the rod to the red and bruised entrance to her vagina, he pushed the table almost to the foot of the bed, locked the wheels and turned the machine’s wheel once by hand.  This rotation resulted in a back and forth motion of the dildo-capped bar with about a twelve-inch range.  Depending upon how and where the rod was attached to the wheel, this range could be significantly extended or reduced.

I knew I looked awful, like death warmed over; my hair was matted and tangled, and the bags under my eyes had to look like blue bruises.  But I didn’t care about my looks, with the way I felt, they were the least of my worries.  I had never been one of those people who obsessed about their looks. 

They had really messed me up physically.  It was more difficult to breathe with my hips forced into the air.  I couldn’t get my eyes to focus, I ached everywhere and my lower back and rear were killing me.  I had now been awake and serially abused for over 60 hours.  Because I was hallucinating on an almost regular basis at this point, I really didn’t understand what was going on and I felt as if I was slowly being driven insane. 

I certainly didn’t understand what they had planned next for me, at least not until Dog Nose carefully guided the extended rod into me as he finally pushed the table up against the foot of my bed.  This resulted in the lubricated dildo coming to rest with about nine inches inside me.  I had been raped and abused for what seemed days now.  While the physical aspect of this was not particularly uncomfortable, the psychological shock of the machine’s entrance inside the raw, aching entrance to my body was horrific.  I raised my head and shook it no, NO!  I tried to struggle, but the way they had me tied ensured I stayed exactly where they wanted me. 

Watching my face with anticipation, Elvis turned the machine on at what appeared to be one of the lowest settings and the wheel began slowly turning.  With each complete rotation of the wheel, the rod plunged twelve inches forward and then a foot backwards in a smooth driving motion. 

The forced vulnerability of my position at the foot of the bed ensured I received the full travel of the dildo inside my pussy; on the withdrawal stroke, it always stopped just one inch short of exiting my body.  There was nothing that I could do to avoid this.  I tried to struggle at first, but my hips were pinned.  Exhausted and unsuccessful no matter what I tried, I finally wound up just lying there, accepting it’s monotonous and endless, robot-like thrusts.  It was #TooTiredToFightAnymore. 

It maintained a slow yet smooth, in and out motion, but the size of the dildo he used ensured my vagina was always filled.  Every time it went into me, I felt pressure in both my ass and my vagina due to the now normal butt plug I had been forced to accept for so long.  Once, Elvis leaned over my hips and drizzled more lubricant on the long black shaft as it withdrew from my body. 

The boat crew watched her take it from the “fuckbot” for about ten minutes.  At first frantic in her attempts to avoid being machine-fucked, her later cadaver-like reaction disappointed them.  Annoyed and frustrated with the bitch, Elvis reached down and turned the speed up almost to maximum.  This got a much more satisfying response from their captive.  Each time the rod reached its maximum penetration of her vagina, her body was slammed toward the head of the bed and her breasts would jiggle seductively. 

After testing the machine at the higher speed, I knew the crew had watched me be tortured for a few minutes, searching for feedback from a woman being horribly abused.  But kept myself still as best I could, and once I “allowed” myself be machine-fucked this way without any obvious reactions, the men had finally become bored and departed the cabin after turning it down only a little.  It was a tiny victory, but at what cost?  For now, it was just myself and the horrific machine that was pounding into me.

I was raw inside.  My whole world was centered on my aching pussy and the rubber penis that was violating me.  I had challenged them by not reacting as they wished, and this was their response, a permanent torture.  I was filled with anguish, and I regretted my pride.  There was no reason for this to go on like this, they weren’t even around to watch.  This was nothing but sexual torture and degradation, pure and simple.  I knew they must be doing this to punish me, to hurt me, but I truly didn’t know what I could have done to deserve this continued punishment. 

Finally, I just lay there crying softly as the awful machine just kept on and on and on.  My stupid pride was gone.  I just wanted it all to stop.  Please, I begged silently, just let it stop.

After what seemed hours but must have been less than half of that, Dog Nose and Elvis walked back in and looked down on me.  After watching my anguished face in silence for a couple of minutes, a smirking Dog Nose walked to the machine and turned it off.  Coincidentally, it stopped while the dildo was fully penetrating me. 

Silence filled the air as I lay there taking deep breaths through my nose, trying to recover what little shattered self-esteem I might have left.  Pride is sinful and can do that to you.   Although closed, my eyes were dry since I was long cried out.  Through slightly parted eyelids, I saw his gaze travel over my body, finally ending between my legs where the awful machine probe lay buried to the hilt inside me. 

He smirked again as he said, “Don’t like that, do ya babe?  Okay, behave yourself and you won’t have to ride it again.  Won’t have to ride any of our toys again after the first time.” 

His comments remained unanswered as I turned my tear-stained face away from him and stared at a porthole through which clean sunlight shown. 

Although my non-response had annoyed him, Elvis now unlocked the cart wheels and moved the cart away from the bed, removing from my insides the blunt spear which had been methodically and mechanically raping me.  I cried out then, at the pain of its departure, and the gaping, unfilled hole it left behind.  I never would have believed it, but in some ways the dildo actually felt good filling me, it was the back and forth rubbing along my vaginal walls which had been so painful and disconcerting. 

The two men untied the bar from the foot of the bed and then, rolling me on my side like a piece of meat, untied my wrists from the bar.  I froze for a moment at this unaccustomed freedom.  I cried out when the two men finished untying my feet from the metal bar and straightened out my legs.  Then I moved, slowly and painfully, in my first attempt in days to straighten out my body by myself. 

I felt like I was a thousand years old.  I ached and hurt all over, but most of the recent pain centered in my groin and my shoulders.  The lips of my vagina had been bruised and were now chafed raw from the unending, uncaring caress of my machine lover.  My shoulder joints hurt too, the ache of my shoulders fighting that from my vagina…  But even once I got a little range of motion back, my shoulders still did not feel right from having my arms tied behind my back for so long. 

I hurt everywhere, and lay there on the bed with no thoughts in my head.  My mind was a blank and nothing could have made me move, not even the threat of death.  But I didn’t have to move on my own, since I was carried by the members of my ‘Recruiting Team’.

I was tortured fifteen times, that's total submission.  They did that with shutting off your blood circulation with ropes, giving you claustrophobia and pain at the same time, bending you double.

-James Stockdale

The crew had decided that the final treatment of the day for Vic was for her to be the main participant in an obscure Japanese rope torture.  It was a complicated position they chose, one in which multiple wraps of rope were passed by Number Four around a stoic Victoria’s upper body immediately above her breasts, the last two wraps going over her biceps rather than under.  Another set of ropes were passed around her chest immediately below her breasts, and a third set around her abdomen.  These all met in a large knot on her left side under her arm and towards her back. 

The girl was like a zombie.  After laying her on her right side, a long wooden bar was passed by Elvis through the knot on these ropes and then under her left arm and on top of her right leg, at which point the inside of her left elbow was tied to the bar.  Unresisting, her left leg was then lifted up over the bar and her ankles tied together so that the bar was now between her legs. 

Finally, more ropes were tied around her left leg just above the knee and they were tied to the bar.  Victoria’s wrists and ankles were now bound together and her body was attached to the bar at only two points, inside left elbow and inside left knee. 

I looked around rather stupidly because of the lack of sleep and thought that these guys had screwed up because all this did was immobilize me on the bed where I could finally get some sleep.  For some reason, I almost pointed this out to them, but I stopped myself somehow.  It was at that point that the two men lifted the bar, and me, and carried us over to a corner where special slots waited to receive each end of the long wooden shaft.

I understood now that none of this had been a mistake.  All of my weight was now hanging from my elbow and knee joints, with only minor support coming from the wraps around my chest.  My body was arched uncontrollably away from the bar as gravity tugged on me, while the back of my head was thrown against the wood in an involuntary muscle spasm.  Immediately, it felt like the joints in my elbow and knee were being dislocated or torn apart even as the pain in my already aching shoulders increased exponentially.  Although physically exhausted, I was almost immediately making mewling noises and puffing air in and out of my nose as if I were a distance runner.

Number Four leaned forward and watched me with wide eyes.  One of the other men, I’m not sure but I think it was Number Three said, “Keep on screamin’, hun buns.  It turn me on.”  They laughed, but all continued to watch me expectantly, knowing the pain I was in and wondering how I would accommodate it.

Even though my legs were helplessly spread wide apart, exposing my vagina to anything the men might desire, there was nothing sexual in this.  It was their last act for the night.  It was like the “fuckbot,” nothing really required of the recipient except accepting pure torture, an agony designed to break completely any remaining fire of resistance. 

And it worked.  Within minutes, I had nothing left to give, nothing left with which to fight.  Whatever they wanted, I would willingly give if only they would stop hurting me.  I would be whatever it was they wanted, I would say whatever they asked and I would act as they desired no matter what that might mean.

I spent over an hour on the bar before they came back and removed me from its terrible caress.  Silent in my misery, I had mutely cried the whole time, even though I had earlier been certain that I had cried my final tears two nights ago, and then felt that way again last night. 

They lifted the bar and carried me roughly to the bed, not worrying about whether they jarred me or not.  As I was lowered onto the bed and it finally began supporting my weight, my shoulder and elbow and hip and knee somehow began to hurt even more than before.  Without thinking, I began a rocking motion reminiscent of an autistic child in an attempt to reduce the pain.  I couldn’t find a position of comfort in which to lie, but my actions angered Dog Nose and Elvis as they got in the way of their attempts to remove the ropes.  Dog Nose slapped my face and breasts hard and told me to lie still.

I collapsed on the bed and was laid on my side on the bed.  My wrist cuffs were unlocked so that my arms were allowed free movement.  Although both shoulders felt dislocated and my arms numb from the position they had been kept in for days, there were also now additional fiercely burning points of pain centered on my left shoulder and elbow.  My knee throbbed and I thought I might have some cartilage damage.  My groin and crotch ached, but there was a curious numbness there too as if my mind knew what had been done to me over the last few days…but by blocking memories, it was trying to salvage my sanity. 

Finally, Elvis left me alone after locking my left wrist to the head of the bed.  I should have been hungry, but wasn’t.  I hated my gag and could have removed it and the butt plug at any time too, but I was too tired and I hurt too much.  I knew there was now no reason to do so---they had won.  And so, I fell into a deep sleep with this single thought on my mind.

Why not simply surrender to one’s doom, since one was so clearly, so spectacularly, doomed?

-Paul Russell, in The Coming Storm

It was dusk when I awoke.  Bossman was sitting on the edge of my bed, slowly rubbing my shoulders and upper arms.  He’d unlocked my left wrist from the bed, and while his light touch was still painful, it did help relax me a little.  I suddenly felt overwhelmed and unexpectedly, almost childishly grateful to him for even the smallest kindness.  I suppose this last emotion was his real reason for the minor kindness, but I did not care at this point.  Even knowing his motivations were far less than pure, they worked, for I really did feel appreciative of what he did. 

Seeing that I was awake, he reached around and released the straps of my gag, taking the large rubber pear out of my mouth.  I closed my eyes and swallowed to get rid of the accumulation of stale tasting saliva, and then I licked my dry lips.

“M, would you like some water”, he asked? 

When the kidnapped girl nodded yes, he helped her over to the side of the bed and she sat up unsteadily.  Bossman reached over and picked up a sweating glass of chilled water and put the straw in her mouth.  Her face showed immense pleasure as the delightfully cold liquid quenched her thirst and he could tell she immediately felt better.  He looked at her intensely. 

“Do you want this to go on?” He asked in a soft, sincere tone. 

“God, please, no more,” I replied, my itchy red eyes pleading with him to understand the depths of my emotions, to save me from any more pain.  I was still groggy, but knew the answer to this question immediately.  I wanted to cooperate in order to stop the pain---I needed to cooperate to please them.

He continued rubbing me, now gently working on my aching left knee and elbow.  “Slave, do you finally begin to understand what I’ve been saying to you?  We can do anything we want to you, and, you must know this by now, it will not stop until you tell me what I want to hear.” 

“It.  Will.  Not.  Stop.”

His tone was surprisingly gentle again as he asked, “Now tell me; what are you?”

I blushed as I turned my head away.  I had to lick my lips again before I could answer.  I felt like I was somewhere near the ceiling looking down on my body as everything around me occurred without my control.  Suddenly, I knew there was only one thing of which I must be sure before I would be willing to even consider beginning a new life with this man. 

My eyes teared up as I weakly asked him, “What about my family?  If you promise to leave them alone…….I’ll do whatever you ask.”

Never one particularly good at waiting when the prize was this close at hand, Bossman exhaled deeply as he sat back on the edge of the bed.  He looked at the recalcitrant bitch for over a minute without saying a word.  His mind was racing, thinking of her impudence and insolence.  At the same time, he was also going over the possibilities this opened, the physical and psychological leverage this request might give him with her.

With his face impassive, he finally nodded his head and said, “You have my promise.”  While he had no plans, at this time, of doing anything to her family, his promise meant nothing to him other than opening another avenue for her manipulation.  He’d say anything to get more power over her.  Soon, very soon, she’d learn what her new life was about and that trying to make bargains with him for her body was like making a very bad deal with the devil.

“Now,” he demanded again, “tell me, what are you?”

Finally, in an inaudible voice, she whispered, “I’m a girl.”

He leaned forward, “No, you’re not.  You are something very special to me.  What are you?” 

She whispered again, her voice cracking this time, “I am your slave.” 

He grabbed a roll of muscle on the inside of her thigh and squeezed hard.  “Louder, I couldn’t hear you!”

“I’m a slave,” she responded a little louder.

“LOUDER, I STILL CAN’T HEAR YOU,” he shouted!  He now had stopped rubbing and was instead glaring at her.

Finally, in a loud, ringing voice I almost shouted, “I’m a slave!”  And then again almost in a whisper, “I’m a slave, God help me.  I’m a slave.  Your slave.” 

My face had unaccountably flushed red with shame at this admission and I could not look him in the eyes.  This time, however, I had replied loudly enough that the men on top could hear me acknowledging my new status.  I could hear them snickering---they knew they had won and that the hard part was now over.

Looking at me without expression, he asked, “Who do you belong to?”

Somehow shocked that my initial admission was not enough for him, I finally stammered, “You, I guess.”

“Yeah, you guess right”, he replied dryly. 

“So what does that make you,” he asked softly?

He would never stop!  God please save me, I wanted to beg, I am only nineteen years old.  I have so much of my life ahead of me.  Instead, as I looked at him and tried to blink away my tears, I replied softly, “I’m your slave.  I am your slave.” 

He nodded his head and after a moment, Bossman stood up and grabbed my left wrist and cuffed it to the head of the bed. 

We were finished for now. 

He looked at me for a second and then reached into his pocket and pulled out a one inch wide strap of soft leather with a buckle on one end.  Taking this in both hands, he put it around my neck and fastened it in back saying, “All of my chattel wear collars.  Keep this collar on except when bathing or when you have permission to take it off.  Understand?” 

I wearily nodded my understanding.

He looked at me for a long minute without saying a word.  Then, “I know you’re hungry and thirsty.   But right now, I want you to get some sleep.  Tomorrow we begin your training—you’ll get a little more food and water then, depending upon how you behave.”

“We’ll also see what your attitude is tomorrow when you’ve been able to sleep a little.  I’m letting you know now slave; if you change your mind and begin to fight us again tomorrow after you’ve had some sleep, I’ll do things to you that I wouldn’t do to a dog.  I don’t want to do these things to you, but I will.  I don’t want your independence; I want your obedience, your complete submission.  I get no pleasure from hurting you, but I’ll have your complete obedience no matter how long it takes.  You are a piece of property and you belong to me now.”

There was silence then as he took a couple of minutes and rubbed more antibacterial ointment into my piercings in silence, but as he was about to leave, he asked one final question.  “Do you have to go to the bathroom?” 

I hadn’t had very much to drink or eat over the last three days and so nodded no.  But I also remembered what had happened last time I had to go to the bathroom. 

Bossman countered my nod with, “You will address me as Master.  Always.  Now say it!”

“No Master,’ I answered him, my voice low, yet filled with sincerity, “I don’t have to go to the bathroom.”

He nodded to me and then had me lay back down on the bed.  After locking my left wrist to the head of the bed again, he then left without another word.  After staring at the ceiling for less than ninety seconds, I fell into a deep and exhausted sleep.

Day Four: The Prize Capitulates

Soon madness has worn you down.  It’s easier to do what it says than argue.  In this way, it takes over your mind.  You no longer know where it ends and you begin.  You believe anything it says. You do what it tells you, no matter how extreme or absurd.  If it says you’re worthless, you agree.  You plead for it to stop.  You promise to behave.  You are on your knees before it, and it laughs.

-Marya Hornbacher, in Madness: A Bipolar Life

There was brilliant sunshine coming through the portholes when I awoke with a gasp early the next morning.  I was awake immediately and felt rested and relaxed and at peace, as if I had slept for twenty-four hours.  At the same time I was desperately hungry and thirsty.  The mattress felt soft beneath me and the dirty, awful bedding like silk on my skin. 

I was just beginning to stretch the kinks out of my arms and legs when I found my left wrist immobilized. 

I suddenly remembered where I was and why I was on this boat.  I think he drugged me last night to help me sleep.  My eyes swam with sudden tears and I pulled the sheet up around my chest with my right hand as if to hide from reality.  In horror, I covered my mouth with free hand and stared at the four walls of the small cabin.  The warm sunlight working its way through the portholes went away as I remembered what had been done to me over the last three days. 

I lay there trying not to make any noise as I silently cried at the horrific memory.  My family must be going crazy wondering what had happened to me.  If he was right, I would never see them again, my family and my friends.  I had given up any right to ever see them again, sacrificed myself, my sanity and my freedom to keep them safe.  And my friends were now back at school, beginning a new phase of their lives while I was being forced to endure humiliating sex along with the most painful and sadistic tortures. 

The worst part, the absolute part I regretted the most was how I had finally given in to him!  I’m exposed, raw.  Slit open from neck to groin, and then flayed.  My heart was a jagged slash and somewhere, deep inside, I hated myself.  I was so angry for having surrendered and allowing him to feel he owned me now.  I felt a rage begin to build in me.  I wanted to die of embarrassment at my weaknesses, but first I wanted to take them all with me into that long spiral into oblivion. 

Finally, my new reality began to set in and I recovered somewhat from my previous anger and bout of self-pity.  I took a couple of deep breaths and calmed myself by blanking my mind.  Then, it was time.  First, I began to inventory my aches and pains as I lay in the bed.  My shoulders were stiff and a little sore, but felt surprisingly better than I would have thought just twelve hours ago.  My hips ached in the same way, but were causing me more discomfort than my shoulders. 

The piercings around both nipples were a little red and warm to touch, and they throbbed with each beat of my heart.  They must be a little infected, I thought.  My breasts still showed red marks where they’d been bound and they were a little tender.  But the engorging blood was gone now.  My vagina was quite sore, but that was to be expected given how much sex and machine rape I had been forced to endure.  I was “saddle sore” they had all laughed at me yesterday.  But I would soon “….get used to being ridden by them.” 

My rear end only ached a little until I tried to move, and then God, it hurt a lot more.  I couldn’t believe I’d actually fallen asleep with that terrible thing stuck inside me.  The bruises and welts on my rear, stomach, back and thighs really didn’t bother me at all.  My left elbow and knee joints were very tender, but seemed to be working okay. 

All in all, knowing what had been done to me, I felt lucky to be alive, let alone feel as good as I did—it could have been so much, worse.  God!  What a little Annie Sunshine, glass half-full kind of girl I had turned to be. 

I instinctively did not want them to know I was awake.  I must have laid in bed for an hour, trying not to move or make a sound.  Any anger I might have felt upon awakening was gone.  I was caught up in my own thoughts, filled with a profound sense of self-pity accompanied by overwhelming sadness and fear.  It was true, I might have been naïve and even a romantic, but I also had a strong streak of pragmatism.  I would do whatever I had to do to survive even if it was horrible---and as long as my family was safe. 

My hand went up to my collar by itself; for the first time I noticed there was a small pendent hanging there.  I couldn’t actually believe I was beginning to dwell on what it would be like to be someone’s chattel.  Never to see my parents again.  Never to see my friends again.  I couldn’t conceive of this happening in today’s world, but here I was, actually living it. 

Suddenly, I noticed Bossman had come in from the galley and reflexively, I pulled the sheet up around my neck.  He moved so silently that only the smell from the cup of coffee he held gave him away.

Once he knew I was aware of him, he moved a chair next to my bed and sat down.  The coffee smelled delicious!  Silently, he offered the coffee to me and I hesitantly, awkwardly, accepted it with my free right hand.  I drank nothing for a moment, rather I watched and waited.  Finally impatient, he motioned for me drink and I silently sipped from the cup. 

Then, in a low voice he asked, “So.  How do you feel today, my new one?” 

I hesitated at what he had called me.  So far, I hadn’t had any control over what had happened to me, but this, whatever this was, this seemed up to me.  For the first time, in the light of day, I would be forced to truly acknowledge my relationships with him, my future with him, all by agreeing he had a right to control my every move and thought from this point on.  Finally, I realized I couldn’t delay any longer. 

“OK, I guess,” was my terse reply.  I felt a sinking feeling in my chest.  I knew my words were almost if I were begging him to beat me. 

He looked at me sharply for a second, his dark eyes gleaming and then he continued, “We need to talk.  Last night you told me you wouldn’t fight us anymore.  You said that we had ‘won’.  Well, now that you’ve had a chance to get some rest, I need to know if you feel the same way now.  Do you?  Are you a woman who keeps her word?”

I licked my lips for a second, but I couldn’t look at him.  My hope of avoiding this floods away and I’m suddenly empty.  Hollowed out.  My hope was futile, I am a fool, an idiot.  I knew this moment would decide my fate forever.  Finally, I briefly nodded my head yes.

“I need to hear you say it,” he replied.  “Say that you belong to me.”

I looked at him for a minute and then I looked out of the closest porthole.  The ocean seemed to hold a perfect crystal stillness.  No birdsongs, no chirp of insects.  Even the wind had subsided as if waiting for my answer.  It was the calm before the storm. 

Finally, I said almost in a whisper, “I belong to you.”

“I didn’t hear you, say it again---louder”

I blushed fiery red then and after a second I said in a more normal tone, “I belong to you.”

“That’s better,” he responded.  “Now, what are you?”

“Please,” I begged, “don’t make me say it.”

“Girl, the last three days have been hell for you.”  He stopped for a second and continued, “I take that back.  After what we’ve done to you, you’re not a girl anymore, you’re a woman.”

“If you want to change your mind now, fair enough, go ahead.  But do it now.  If you tell me what you think I want to hear and then try to do something stupid later, like escape, you’ll wish you’d died.  Either you broke last night or you didn’t.  If you didn’t, you got an extra night’s sleep for free.  But you’d better know you’ll go back on the horse for at least six hours next time, and you’ll wear the electric jewelry and inserts for a lot longer, along with all the other extra added benefits that we’ve thrown your way.”

“I don’t want to hurt you unnecessarily, I really don’t.  But you will obey me.  Bottom line, either you tell me what you are—the truth, or we get busy again.  Your choice and you make it now…and live with it forever.  What are you?”

Finally, I looked down at the sheet that covered my nude body, “I’m a slave and I belong to you.”  The words had come out in a croak and were barely audible.  I felt like each one had ripped at my heart, my soul.  And now, there was nothing left of the old me. 

“Say it again,” he commanded, “louder!”

“I’m a slave and I belong to you.”

“Again!!”

I shouted at him this time, “I’m a slave and I belong to you.”

“Good, he replied, calmer again now that I had submitted.  “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

I suddenly realized that for many of the girls who must have gone helplessly before me like this, doing this would have been a throwing away of their ideals, a hopeless surrender to the brutalizing spirit of these men.  But it could not be so for me, for I would do my best to embrace it in a way which still allowed me some room to fight.  I instinctively knew that was the only way I could survive.  I’d do what he wanted and say what he wanted; I would deliver to him everything he wanted---everything except the true me inside that one like him could never touch.

Confronted with the impossibility of remaining faithful to one's beliefs, and the equal impossibility of becoming free of them, one can be driven to the most inhuman excesses.

-James Baldwin

Most of us are about as eager to be changed as we were to be born, and go through our changes in a similar state of shock

-James Baldwin

This was a young woman not yet used to dissembling.  Bossman looked at her for minute and knew from her face, knew from looking into her eyes that she still didn’t get it.  She may now know what she has in her mind, but obviously not what’s in her heart.  But she still didn’t get it in her gut. 

She’d heard him talking about a new life, but still didn’t understand what it really meant to her, for her.  This was one that would give him everything he wanted and still try to play her games.  Well, he’d seen it all before.  He was ready for that. 

He reached over and unlocked her left wrist, then forced her over to the side of the bed.  She sat up slowly, still holding the sheet close to her chest in some sort of imagined modesty. 

“Look at me”, he demanded.  She looked but didn’t say anything.  Suddenly, he reached down and though the light sheet still covering her breasts, he was able to grab her right nipple between his left thumb and forefinger.  He pinched down hard and twisted at the same moment, using the ring that had been driven through her nipple to make her feel unprecedented pain with this simple move.  Then he pulled her off of the bed with his two fingers and onto floor where she stood with her eyes bulging in pain and her mouth open in shock. 

His eyes blazing, “You…..Are….A…..Fucking…..Slave,” he said slowly and quietly, emphasizing each word with a painful twist of his hand.  “So what do you call me and how do you hold yourself in my presence?”

The enslaved girl stuttered for a second because of her tortured nipple and then found herself, “You are my Master.” 

She then forced herself to lower her eyes and spread her legs, and even though it had to be a torture to do so with his hand so rough on chest, she clasped her hands behind her back and stood silently waiting. 

Bossman continued to pinch and twist her nipple for another thirty seconds as a lesson and then let go, allowing the sheet to fall to the floor.  Bitch had a high thresh-hold of pain.

He studied her dismissively, derisively.  “Your position is awful,” he said contemptuously.  “In a submissive stance, you clasp your hands behind you in the small of your back and push your chest forward and shoulders back.  You will spread your legs shoulder width apart---FURTHER!  You will not look at the man; instead you’ll look down at your feet.  You’ll only look at him when he is addressing you or if he’s given you permission to speak.  Assume this posture now.”

I looked down at my feet as I blinked back tears of pain and shame, of abject humiliation.  Somehow, I said, “Yes Master”. 

I did not understand how he could change so quickly; being so kind one minute and so brutal the next.  I stood in front of him and assumed as close to a submissive position as I could.  I hated myself for being so weak even as I did everything he demanded of me to the best of my ability.  Finally, Bossman reached out and pulled my shoulders back and lowered my head a little more and then grunted in satisfaction.

Bossman waited in silence for a couple of minutes before continuing.  “As you finally begin to realize, you are a slave and you belong to me.  This life is new to you, but you will act accordingly.  You will learn to do as you’re told.  Right now, you’re like a willful child, but you will soon learn discipline.  If you always do what you’re told, once your training is complete your punishments will become minimal.  You will find that there is a difference between discipline and punishment.  Both are still available to be used with you.  ” 

This was a soothing lie meant to make it easier to control her as he took from the untrained girl the feral freedom that she had previously enjoyed and which seemed so precious to her.  He would replace it with a new set of goals and rights, a new life of being controlled in every movement she might make. 

He’d laid out her training and he knew that her punishments would have nothing to do with the penalties for being a less than perfect slave.  The emotional and physical and psychological pain that his crew would bring her would never stop as long as she was in their possession.  It would only escalate with time, no matter how obedient she might be.  She would be continually broken down further and further to ever lower levels of existence. 

And even when fully trained, he knew that as long as her body and looks held out, she would always be served up pain and anguish by her Masters in dishes both hot and cold.  This was her fate, to bring pleasure to others by learning to accept their pain.

He continued, “As I told you two days ago, there are some important rules that you must follow exactly, at all times.  Do you understand me?  Save yourself some pain now and tell me if you don’t understand.”

“Master, what do you mean my punishments will be minimal?”

It is one thing to be subject to the whip, and to know that that subjection is quite real, that the master can, and will, whip you, and well, if you are not pleasing, and something else to be actually whipped.

-John Norman, in Mercenaries of Gor

Bossman thought for a minute before speaking, “You are now property that belongs to a man.  And that’s me, right now.  In the new life you have begun, your main purpose will be to serve your master, to give pleasure with your body.  Always before, you’ve been allowed to act as if you were equal to all others, but that has now changed even if you truly don’t yet understand this yet.”

“While you have been tamed, you are as yet untrained, not fit to be allowed among those better than you.  You will become familiar with pain now used as discipline, it will be a major tool in your training.  Ultimately, once fully trained, you will be delivered to your new Master.  He in turn may decide to give you for a time as a toy to other Masters and Mistresses.  The men and women you will be taught to please vary in temperament like everyone else in this world.  Some will derive pleasure from giving you pleasure.  Savor these moments.  These are the experiences that will comfort you as you look back upon them while crying in the beds of the darker Masters.”

“Other Masters will have a more, shall we say, severe way of enjoying your considerable charms.  They will take you to their private islands and share you with others.  They will make you familiar with their pain in order to take your blood and gain pleasure from your body.  To help you better please them, you will be taught to appreciate the finer arts of bondage and sadomasochism.  And your body will be trained through practice and discipline to not only endure, but eventually enjoy everything you may experience.  I know it sounds horrific and that you don’t believe me now.  But it really doesn’t matter what you think, for this will happen.  In these things, you have no choice.  You will, however, eventually understand this with both your heart and your soul.  ””

“These Masters will bring you pleasure and they will bring you pain to fulfill their needs.  It’s only by embracing the pain we bring you, learning to not only endure, but to look forward to it, that you will be able to survive it.  And if nothing else, these last few days have shown me you are a survivor.  So, in answer to your question, we’re going to teach you how to bring pleasure to whomever you have been given and to appreciate the beauty of the pain they may give you in return.  Do you understand now?”

“Master, I understand,” I replied to him.  For the first time, fear trumped the pain of my body.  I really didn’t understand, but for some reason, I believed that he believed what he was saying.  I knew that I needed to eventually understand my new environment, even if just to survive. 

I think he’d just said something like they would beat me in order to make me like being beaten---this didn’t make sense at all.  But I also somehow knew he would explain everything to me in a way that I could understand---and God help me, I knew that I would do my best to please him.  At the same time, I also knew that there would always be something inside me that would never give up all control to these men.

“Excellent.  Your new Master honored you by picking you out of a large group to serve him and you’ll be the perfect companion and slave for him when we’re done. 

Bossman slowly shook his head from side to side, “Rest assured, your attitude is one of the first things we address, and it will be corrected.  So.  First thing, like I said, we’ll be working on your attitude.  You haven’t fooled anyone here.  You demeanor may be submissive, but you have not yet been convinced of the rightness to your life that giving total control to another will bring.”

He looked at her sharply to see how she took this next part.  “When we’re finished with you, when you have the correct attitude, it will allow you….  No, it will drive you, it will compel you to develop the expertise that your new life demands.  You see, that’s the best part of this, the human mind that is.  Once you have the right attitude, you’ll want to do the rest and at that point, all you’ll need from us is guidance in the physical and the psychological aspects.”

“With our assistance, you’ll develop a consummate expertise in numerous sexual positions and a range of abilities in both sadomasochism and bondage.  You’ll be taught how to use every part of your body and mind to give pleasure.”

“More importantly, I now give you your only warning.  Your indoctrination period has ended and you now enter your training phase.  Be aware that you will also be punished for all infractions, beginning now.  Punishments will vary according to the offense, but will range from light whipping of your back, ass, back of your thighs and genitals to rope torture.  You have already been introduced to some of these techniques.  Don’t make it necessary for us to use them again.” 

In this he lied, for he knew she would be routinely kept familiar with all of these things and be introduced to even more exotic objects d’amour and painful positions, regardless of how well she behaved.  These were all part of her continued training and would be for the rest of her life.  Even if she responded perfectly to his crew in all ways, she would still meet and become continually more familiar with rope and whip, with rubber and iron, as her training progressed.  It was only by these techniques that they could teach her to contain the pain and even include it as a daily and accepted---no, a desirable and necessary part of her life.  In the end, her punishment must even be perceived as life threatening; for it was only by this that they would find the true depths of her submission to them.  

He held up his index finger, “The main rules; from now on, you will learn to serve those “better than you.  We here are not politically correct; there are layers and complexities to your new life of which you have not yet even dreamed.  Be warned.  We do not subscribe to feminism or the #MeToo movement.  Forget about your constitutional rights.  You are not equal to others as your previous teachers and family may have taught you.  Instead you now inhabit a lower level in which you will assume that all men are better than you.”

He smiled wickedly, “It may be a full-blown patriarchy you’re going to, but it isn’t run by white males.” 

He held up a second finger. “Above all other men, you’ll serve your Master.  Only speak to a man when asked a direct question or allowed to speak freely, but never lie.  In your new life, you’ll be kept isolated, out of the sight of most men.  Your beauty is such that men would remember you.  But even more important, you will be offered only to those special few that your new Master deems worthy.  You are stubborn and I see you having problems accepting this---at keeping your silence.  This is because somewhere inside, you still see yourself as equal to men.  This lesson alone will be difficult for you to learn because of your attitude.  But we’ll break you of it; there is no doubt in this.”

“When asked a question, even if you know the answer is not what your Master wants to hear, never lie to him.  When a man, any man walks into your presence, you will immediately stop what you are doing, get up and stand in a submissive posture.  You will be taught other positions, but this will suffice for now.  This position is how you’ll acknowledge a man’s dominance over you in a way that invites him to take you for his pleasure---and to give you pleasure in return.”

He looked at her coldly.  “I know women---I’ve broken and trained females like you for decades.  A woman like you may perfectly do with your body as I command, but inside you’ll still be measuring, deceiving, thinking to always keep something to yourself.  Women like you always try to deceive, but in the end it is only yourself to which you will be lying.  But soon, sooner than you think, you’ll make a mistake and then you’ll pay a greater price than you can even imagine for not learning this from the beginning.  But that’s the way that women you are.”

He waited a moment before he continued.  “There will be times when you may be given to a woman for pleasure.  You will address these women as Mistress, and they are to be accorded the same privileges with your body as that of any Master.  There may be times when a woman is given to you for your Master’s pleasure---he may have you do with her as he does with you.  In all of these situations, you will do as commanded.”

The previous part had been more concerned with her body, controlling the physical aspects and giving her a few lessons in slave manners.  Now he began the psychological indoctrination.  “Finally, as a slave, you don’t get to keep your name.  From now on, you’ll answer only to the name ‘M’.  Your slave collar has your new name on it; keep it on at all times.  Do you understand what I’ve said so far?” 

He watched the girl reluctantly nod her head yes.  He knew the nod began for her a journey of which she had no concept.  She had no idea as of yet down what twisted paths and trails he would lead her in his bid to tame her, to train her, to forever make her his own.  Taking away her name was only the beginning of taking away her membership in her old family and making her a new member of his.  In this single act, her nod, she’d validated not only his control over her, but his authority to do so too.

“Do you have any problem understanding anything I’ve said so far?” 

He could tell that inside she still burned, but the young girl previously named Victoria shook her head, “No Master.”

“Go over these rules until you know them by heart.  Think about them---believe in them.  There will be others, but you will get them later.  Failure to follow any these rules will result in significant punishment.”

Discipline is important simply because we live in an organized society where, if you have not learned life's requirements at early age, you will be taught later, not by those whose love tempers the lesson but by strangers who could not care less about the harm they do to your personality.

-William Homan, in Readers Digest, 1969

Now on to the more mundane things; he held up his third finger, “Discipline is important and you’ll perfectly maintain a schedule while on this boat.  There will be no excuses for failure in this.  Today you have off so that you can recover sufficiently to follow your schedule and prepare for tomorrow.” 

“Starting tomorrow, you’ll get up at 6 in the morning and have tea or coffee, your choice.  You’ll dress for exercise and be ready by 6:15; we’ll provide your exercise outfit.  From 6:15 to 7:15, you’ll do a mix of aerobic exercises and light weights in your cabin.  From 7:15 to 9, you’ll shower, make your bed and clean up your cabin, eat a light breakfast, and put on your make-up and dress.  We will provide everything for you, and expect you to look your best at all times.” 

A serious look came on his face, “This is really important and I will not say it again after this, you will look your best at all times.  Your make-up will be minimal since you don’t need a lot, but I want you to emphasize your eyes.  Use lipstick and nail polish.  Keep in mind you’ll need to put on new nail polish the night before, since you won’t have time during the day.  Chipped nails will always require discipline.”

He knew the next was useless to her right now, but he tried anyway.  She would play her games….right up until she lost everything.  “You know you are only here because of your looks---no one cares about your winning personality, your interests or accomplishments, or anything else for that matter.  Given what you’ve already gone through, you also already know you will be expected to please your owner in any way he wants.”

The next part was meant to soothe her, make her a little more manageable.  She’d learn the truth soon enough.  “Unless required as punishment, you will not be undergoing any of our more persuasive techniques.  However, as I said, your “indoctrination” will give you the skills and knowledge that allow you to take ownership of your pain; these classes will continue for at least the next seven to fourteen days depending upon how quickly you learn.”

“Here’s the important part, at least for the crew that is,” he said with a small smile while holding up a fourth finger.  “You’ll be with each of the men for at least one training period a day, beginning at 9.  Keep in mind that the concepts of ‘fair’ or ‘not fair’ doesn’t exist for you anymore.  You belong to me now, your body belongs to me.  You don’t have any say about how your body’s used---get used to it, that’s the way it is for you now.  Just be glad I make sure the men are clean.  They will provide you with whatever they want you to wear, since they began purchasing clothing for you on the island beginning more than ten days ago.” 

I was even more horrified to hear the planning for my abduction had been that detailed starting that long ago.  How could I have been so stupid, so blind to everything around me for so long?  My emotions were rushing around so much inside of me that I didn’t know what I felt at the moment, but I vowed to myself to do the best that I could and still be true to myself.

I looked up again as the monster who now felt he owned me continued, “Each of my men will have at least ninety minutes with you each day beginning at 9 AM.  After the first man finishes, you will clean yourself and prepare for the next man.  By the time you have finished refreshing your makeup, your next outfit will be waiting for you on the bed.  Whatever he’s brought for you, you will put it on and spend the next hour or more with him; you’ll willingly and enthusiastically learn what he has to teach.  This will continue until you have spent at least ninety minutes each with all four men---every day until you are told differently.  If any of the men feels you have been less than completely involved in learning what they have to offer or that you are giving less than a 100% effort in pleasing any one of them, you will be severely punished.  The men all have permission to punish you at their whim.  Do not test them!  Do you understand what this means?” 

I looked at him and quickly nodded my head while saying, “Yes, Master.”

He knew his men were here to train M as well as continuing to break her.  He didn’t necessarily like giving the woman to each man like this, but it was unavoidable in his estimation.  These guys weren’t Boy Scouts, and if she was prancing about on the boat all dressed up and these guys couldn’t fuck her at least once a day, there’d soon be a riot.  Allowing them access to her like this was win/win for him; they got their nuts off daily and wouldn’t be as aggressive and she’d be ridden like a horse for at least half the day, every day, getting good training in sexual techniques with multiple partners as well as fatiguing her physically. 

In his experience, a sexually exhausted woman was a much more manageable woman. 

The stress of her unwilling participation in daily gangbangs would keep her emotionally damaged as well as physically exhausted.  Plus, he knew that psychologically it would be extremely traumatizing for this inexperienced bitch to be passed around like an Indian peace pipe day after day and it would keep her more easily controlled and malleable.  Like he said, win/win.

But at the same time, he always kept in mind he was working with human beings.  The men he used were cut from coarse cloth and were only human, the woman being broken and trained was beautiful and desirable, and he wouldn’t always be around---that was a combination just made for trouble.

“The men will begin your training tomorrow.  As with all of the others that have gone before you, they will take their time to make sure that you learned your lessons perfectly.  You’d better cooperate with each man and work on learning what they have to offer to you.  As I said, your “peace of mind,” depends upon it.”

He ticked off his fifth finger. “If history is any guide,” and he gave her a small, quick flash of a smile filled with hidden knowledge, “you should be free somewhere around 2:30 or 3 in the afternoon.  When the men are finished with you for the day, you will shower, refresh your makeup, put on the swim wear we provide and you will be brought up on the sun deck for fresh air and some sun bathing.

Sixth finger.  “You will go down to your cabin at 5:30 and prepare for a slightly more formal dinner.  This preparation includes putting on makeup and a gown we will provide.  In addition to serving the men during the day, you’ll serve the crew their meal beginning at 6:30 PM.  When they are finished eating, you may eat anything that remains, but you’ll return to your cabin immediately after finishing your meal.  Regardless of whether or not you’ve eaten, you will always be in your cabin by 7:30 PM.  You’ll change into your nightwear and have free time from 7:30 until 9, when you will then go to bed.  You will not leave the cabin during the time after eating and before you sleep.  This schedule will hold only for your time on the boat, since I can guarantee that your new master will provide his own schedule for you.  Finally, you’ll be eating with us starting tonight.”

“Do you have any questions?”

I shook my head no.  This was too much to for me to take in at one time, but I was sure the crew would be more than willing to correct me whenever necessary.

Bossman cleared his throat, “I noticed that you’ve never shaved your pubic hair.  When you take your shower this morning, you will remove all of it, leaving only a thin vertical strip of hair ½ inch wide.  Also make sure you get rid of all your leg and armpit hair.  There’s hair removal cream in the shower for you to use, since we’ve decided you don’t need a razor blade of any type right now.” 

He said this with a slight smile.

“Take the plug out of your ass now, take fifteen minutes to shower and get cleaned up and then I’ll bring your breakfast.  Your clothes will be laid out by the time you’re out of the shower.  You’re going to spend today getting ready for tomorrow and you’ll be eating with us tonight at 6:30.  Plan on getting dressed for dinner starting around 5:30.”

We need to understand the difference between discipline and punishment.  Punishment is what you do to someone; discipline is what you do for someone.

-Zig Ziglar

When Bossman walked out of the cabin, I slowly, painfully walked over to the bathroom.  There, as I looked at my grim reflection in the metal mirror, I gingerly worked the plug out of my rear and did what I had to do.  Then I leaned in and turned the water on in the shower.  After washing my hair, I soaped my body down, washed it off and applied the hair remover.  Finally washing the stinking crap off, I stepped out of the shower and picked up the top towel off of a stack and dried my long hair.  I then grabbed another towel and dried myself off. 

I’d removed the hair under my armpits and legs as ordered, and had done the best I could with my pubic region.  Using a blow drier to dry my hair, its natural curls came to my rescue again.  I really didn’t need a lot of stuff to get myself ready.

Stepping out of the bathroom, I suddenly stopped as I saw Bossman waiting for me in the chair again.  I knew that even though I’d taken more than the fifteen minutes he had allotted me, my first reaction was to immediately cover myself, even if it meant just holding my hands over my crotch.  But I also knew I already failed one test and the move to cover myself would further enrage him, perhaps being enough to trigger punishment. 

His face still and frozen, he motioned to me with his forefinger. 

I crossed the cabin and when I stood in front of him in a submissive position, he pointed to the floor by the side of the couch.  I looked down and saw a large dog dish filled with what looked like oatmeal.  I looked back at Bossman as he said, “My women very quickly learn that all of the rules are for a reason and all enforced.  You took too long---you get to get down on your hands and knees and lick the food up using only your mouth.  You make a mess and you’ll be punished again.  DO IT NOW!!”

He had to be kidding!  I looked at him for just a second to make sure he really wanted me to do this—his serious face told me he did.  I…I… couldn’t believe this was happening.  I painfully dropped to my knees on the floor, then I rolled forward onto my hands.  I took a deep breath, then put my face over the dog bowl and as a fiery red blush covered my face, I lowered my mouth into the cold, disgusting goop and began lapping at it like a dog.  I know this is what he wanted, but that knowledge didn’t stop me from feeling shame at what he demanded I do, mostly because of my willing complicity in going along with them.  At the same time, a contrarian part of me suddenly firmed up and refused to accept his attempt at humiliation, because it was just so blatantly in-your-face.  After five minutes, I had pretty much licked the bowl clean and he finally gave me permission to stand again.  I stared at the deck and refused to look at him.  After giving me an intensely suspicious look for almost a minute, he finally gave me permission to wipe my face off and to put my makeup on.

He’d told me where they’d put the makeup he wanted me to use, and when I got up enough courage to walk over to the dresser to check it out, I was surprised at both the range of items waiting for me as well as the high quality.  I first picked up a skin lotion and looked at Bossman.  Seeing him nod his head, I put a liberal amount in my left hand and rubbed it onto my breasts and arms, then my legs.

Next, I quickly put on a light base and then added eye makeup and liner.  Finally, with some distaste, I put on lipstick.  Still facing the mirror over the dresser, I realized I’d been steeling myself for this moment all morning.  Finally getting up enough courage, my stomach tied in an acidy knot, I turned to Bossman and after assuming the slave position, I said, “Master, I’m ready.”

Your wedding completely changes the direction of your life, you know, no matter how greatly you desire it.  I think that moment of doubt and faintness comes from all those imagined and now impossible futures all pressing in on you at once.  It is your last chance to experience them, you see, and they all want to be lived at that moment.

-Sharon Shinn, in Jenna Starborn

If I ever offer to plan your wedding or sweet sixteen or something, do yourself a favor and run away screaming.

-Gwen Hayes, in Totally Tubular

Bossman had supplied her outfit for the rest of the day until dinner and it was meant to be very symbolic.  Except for her leather slave collar, everything was white, a color set off nicely by the girl’s dark tan.  The top was a sheer white lace bra with satin wedding bell designs that did not in any way conceal her breasts or nipples.  The bra cups had vertical slits that were laced shut.  Like the bra, the open crotch G-string with two garter straps for each leg was made out of a sheer material through which her thin strip of darker blonde pubic hair was visible.  To complete the outfit, he’d included a pair of white strappy five-inch stiletto heeled sandals.  The heels had two thin straps around the toes and three straps around the ankles.  Even she seemed to think they were very sexy. 

I replied, the terrified apprehension in my voice barely under control, “It’s all white, like from a wedding or something.” 

With this, I picked up the panties and looked at them as I spread out the side straps.  After a moment’s hesitation, I slid them over my hips.  I knew I had made a mistake as soon as I did it, for he had not given me permission to begin dressing.  His face was impassive when I quickly looked up at him.  After a moment, he nodded, and I could breathe again. 

Then I picked up the bra and finally got it on—getting the cups comfortable gave me some trouble especially with the way I still ached, but eventually they were okay.  Finally, I put on the high heels.  I looked up and said to him, “Everything seems to fit except for the heels.”

Replying that they had been purchased a half-size too small on purpose, he then stood up and motioned me over to him.  When I got there and assumed the slave’s respect position, he unlaced the front of the bra cups, opening them both with his finger tips to fully expose my still tender nipples.  Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a thin gold chain which had a small complicated lock on each end and proceeded to attach one end of the chain to my left nipple ring and the other end to ring through the ring on my right. 

Stepping back to look at his handiwork, he said, “You’ll learn to work your clothing around your new jewelry. “

He then looked at me for a second, gazing at my now exposed brown aureoles and pink, semi-erect nipples peeking through the front of the bra cups, and at the finely made chain which connected my nipples outside the bra.  From there his dark gaze traveled down to my belly and groin, concentrating for a moment on the thin strip of dark blonde hair clearly visible there through the narrow triangle of my sheer G-string, and finally down my gleaming, smoothly oiled legs to my high-heel clad feet. 

Shaking his head in apparent disappointment, he turned and walked out of the cabin, saying over his shoulder, “Don’t forget, dinner at 6:30, start getting ready at 5:30.”

Stepping back to look at his handiwork, he said, “You’ll learn to work your clothing around your new jewelry. “

He then looked at me for a second, gazing at my now exposed brown aureoles and pink, semi-erect nipples peeking through the front of the bra cups, and at the finely made chain which connected my nipples outside the bra.  From there his dark gaze traveled down to my belly and groin, concentrating for a moment on the thin strip of dark blonde hair clearly visible there through the narrow triangle of my sheer G-string, and finally down my gleaming, smoothly oiled legs to my high-heel clad feet. 

Shaking his head in apparent disappointment, he turned and walked out of the cabin, saying over his shoulder, “Don’t forget, dinner at 6:30, start getting ready at 5:30.”

I looked at his back as he walked out and when he was no longer in sight I walked over to the chair and sat down.  My legs were unsteady and my knees were quivering.  Suddenly, I felt nauseous and wanted to cry.  Looking down at my breasts, with shaking fingers I finally began trying to tie the front of each bra cup back up again, but fumbled again and again.  I soon ran into problems because of the chain that now hung off of each of my nipples.  Finally, I stopped trying to cover the tips of my breasts and just concentrated on loosely tying the front of each bra cup back together. 

I didn’t know what to do now.  I had never worn anything like this before and was quite embarrassed about the way it not only revealed my body, but actually seemed to accentuate my nakedness.  The open front bra cups were pornographic in the extreme, as was the G-string.  I was particularly uncomfortable with how the crotch panel of the almost non-existent panties cut into the lips of my aching pussy, and I kept trying to adjust myself in an effort to find a more comfortable way to sit while wearing them.  Nothing helped. 

Bossman had had to walk out when he did because if he hadn’t, he’d have jumped the gorgeous bitch right on the spot and that wasn’t in the game plan right now.  He wanted M to trust him and even though he’d already raped her twice while she was being indoctrinated, fucking her brains out right at the beginning of this step of her training wasn’t the way to get that.  He wasn’t even sure if she yet realized the difference between being broken physically and the indoctrination and training that followed. 

He also knew it was extremely important for him to cultivate the image of being both strong and firm to her, yet fair too within the realms of her new world.  This was going to be more difficult than he’d anticipated.

When he walked back in a little later, I had made my bed and was now lying on it.  Although I recognized the irony, any humor in it escaped me at the moment.  Regardless, at his entrance, I jumped up and pretty much assumed the position of submission.  However, he still barked at me, “M, pull your shoulders back further and push your chest out.”

I did as I was told and replied guiltily, “Yes Master.”

Walking to the dressing table, Bossman told me to go sit on the edge of the bed and to open up the front of each of my bra cups.  Doing as he ordered, both of my nipples were once more now exposed to view as he walked over and sat down beside me to apply the antiseptic ointment.  He took his time rubbing in the salve, but his motions were not overtly sexual. 

Finishing, he walked back to the couch and sat down again, telling me to cover myself up again.  This I did in a hurry for I had seen he was obviously aroused seeing me in this clothing.  It had looked like he’d had a small boulder in his pants as he turned away from me this time.  I had seen this reaction from some men before, but never in a situation of total dependency like this.

Bossman had found it difficult to walk away from Victoria.  He’d had a raging erection as soon as she’d exposed herself to him and it took all his self-control to not force himself upon her right there.  Once he was able to calm down, he then spent the next hour talking to M about her situation and what she had to do to survive.  He told her why she was wearing bridal lingerie—she would never marry another man, and that she had been symbolically “wedded” to all of these men now. 

Just a reminder of MARRIAGE: It's an agreement in which a man loses his bachelor degree and a woman gains her master. .

-Ritu Ghatourey

His comments about “wedding his men” brought tears of horrified disbelief to my eyes.  Whatever he did or made me do, it wouldn’t be a wedding or marriage.  I would say or do whatever was necessary to survive, but it wouldn’t be real in my eyes. 

Sudden tears filled my eyes.  You have your life all planned out.  And then, in one stupid, careless moment, all these plans, your entire life, everything is changed.  Not the least as a result of that stupidity, I would be wearing tacky bridal lingerie just to titillate a crew of white slavers who spent the days raping and sodomizing me.  So be it, a silly charade that wasn’t real.  Unshed tears suddenly filled my eyes again, for I knew my life could go no lower.

Bossman promised the kidnapped blonde teenager that as long as she cooperated and kept her word, he would not allow any of the other men on the boat to hurt her or go too far in their training.  She was however, his property now and she would obey him in every way.  He emphasized that she really hadn’t had any choice and that she should not feel bad about any decisions she might have made in submitting to him.  She was, he said, an obvious survivor-type and would be able to live with what she had to do. 

He had modified his approach, making what he felt was a fair and rational case for her treatment, always presenting her position in a way that allowed her to keep at least a tiny piece of pride---he only got upset when she refused to accept certain principles he seemed to feel were key.  Even when he raised his voice though, he had stopped brutal or physical with her in any way.  Victoria found that she appreciated this, and the fact that she felt this way profoundly disturbed her.

Finally, Bossman said, “You need to get some sun today.” 

I felt shame at being dragged through the boat like a horse on a lead, even though I had done nothing wrong.  My shoulders ached and it was hard to keep my balance.  Part of it was just the remnants of my pride--I tried to keep close to Bossman to reduce the visual of me being led along like a farm animal.  Since I also tried to keep close because this reduced the pull on my nipples, but it was difficult with the high heeled sandals I was wearing.  I had no other choice but to walk closely behind him, but my legs still dragged, aching from torture, leaden with despair. 

The looks in the eyes of every member of the crew seemed to pull at me like a full-fledged blow to the belly, dragged at me like I was walking through molasses.  I knew my clothing was far more revealing than anything I had ever before worn in public, and this was emphasized as I was dragged through the galley where the rest of the men were sitting. 

Elvis was working on a laptop, while the other three were finishing breakfast.  All four men went silent at my appearance and their eyes burned me with their intensity as they took off of me what little I already wore.  I blushed beet red then.  Intuitively, I knew tomorrow with them would be awful.

Walking unsteadily as I was forced up the stairs, Bossman dragged me over to an air mattress lying on the back deck and told me I could lie down on it.  However, before he let go of my chain, he brought out a heavier chain and padlocked it to the one that connected my nipples. 

Chained to the deck on the rear of the boat, I could move no more than three feet in any direction.

I was allowed outside for almost six hours that day, alternating my time in the sun and under the shade of the canvas.  The sun was a tonic and I felt better for having it on me.  At these times I sometimes could briefly think myself free of their captivity.  When I looked at the waves I sometimes briefly forgot my fate…. 

When I watched the birds….

I could have watched the birds forever, their freedom….. 

But the moments never lasted.  For Bossman was with me all the time, talking earnestly and without crudity to me about my future.  Except for the previous, horrendous sexual acts, during this time he acted in all ways, I thought ironically, like a gentleman.

Bossman knew that Vicki had not yet developed the psychological dependency upon him he needed her to feel, but he would continue working with her for the rest of his time on the boat.  Then, he thought, we’ll see.

Finally it was time, and Bossman led his teenage victim back into her cabin to allow her to prepare for dinner.  He showed her how to take off her breast chain, but told her she was still expected to wear it at all times.  After laying out her gown, he then departed. 

Teenagers.  Everything is so apocalyptic.

-Kami Garcia, in Beautiful Creatures

It hurt to raise my arms, but I finally figured how to take off my chain and did so.  At this point, I was then finally able to take off the damnable slit-cup bra which so chafed my nipples.  After removing my heels, I slid the now suntan lotion-stained G-string over my hips and onto the floor.  Stepping out of my panties, I wrapped a towel around my hair and stepped into the shower to get clean.

Drying myself off as I walked back to the dresser, I tried not to think of my situation.  So my mind was on autopilot as I fixed my hair and applied my makeup for the second time today.  Not even remembering details of putting on my makeup, I put the chain back on my piercings and when I was finished, I walked over to my bed and picked up what Bossman had laid there for me to wear. 

The stretch halter top gown was ankle length and navy blue in color.  The material was sheer and virtually transparent, with darker floral patterns woven in.  Tied in the back, the gown would tightly contour my beasts and stomach, hug my hips and flow to just above my feet when I wore high heels.  There was also a dark blue stretch lace garter belt almost wide enough to be a waist cinch which used faux pearls as the garters.  The stockings he had picked were a fine, sheer navy blue in color.  Rather than decorated, the stocking welt was a plain, darker blue at the top.  The outfit was finished with navy blue pumps with 4 ½ inch stiletto heels. 

Bossman came into the cabin just as I had finally put the garter on and was looking helplessly at the stockings.  I was finally beginning to get used to his coming in unannounced and went automatically into the slave position.  He told me to sit down and put the stockings on. 

With only a little instruction from him, I finally put on the left stocking and stood up to fix the garters to it.  I then sat down and put on the other stocking.  When I stood up the second time, he told me to put my heels on and to make sure I had the stockings held up tightly on my legs by the garters, since the men hated to see female slaves wearing stockings with wrinkles at the ankles or with baggy knees; that these infringements would earn me severe punishments.

Wearing only my slave collar, garter belt, stockings and heels, Bossman had me walk over to my dresser mirror and check out my reflection.  For the first time, I realized a part of me no longer felt any need for privacy in my nudity.  In a moment of odd detail that didn’t seem to fit the current situation, he told me that much of the time I would be wearing stockings with seams and that I must be careful to make sure these seams went perfectly up and down the center of the back of my legs.  To ensure this, I was to stand with my back to the mirror, straighten my legs and then spread them about two feet apart.  I was to then bend over, wrapping my hands around one of my ankles in the process and then slide my hands slowly but firmly up each of my legs, pushing up any excess in the nylon in order to get the wrinkles out of the stockings.  All the while I should also be checking myself out in the mirror to see how straight my seams were and how my stockings might look to the men as they watched me from the rear.  Inside, I was shaking my head in confusion—I had no idea at that time what he was talking about. 

It was my duty, he said, to provide them with perfection in feminine beauty.  And failure would be punished.  

After tightening my stockings as directed, I walked back to the bed and slowly struggled into my gown because of my shoulders.  After wriggling it down over my hips, I was embarrassed that I had to ask Bossman’s assistance in tying the back of the gown—it just hurt too much trying to reach around my back. 

It certainly was a tight fit, I thought to myself.  When I finished dressing, I walked over to the mirror again and looked at myself.  What I saw left me filled with shock.

There was nothing left to the imagination.  The black slave collar contrasted with my dark blue gown and so drew attention immediately to my status.  I wore no bra so my nipples were visible and semi-erect as the sheer cloth of my gown chafed them, and the chain connecting each nipple was visible as it hung down slightly between my breasts under the dress.  My belly was flat and the gown was tight there before it flared out while hugging my hips. 

My vagina was completely exposed to view since I wore no panties and the thin vertical strip of remaining pubic hair only emphasized my femininity.  My long legs were emphasized by the high heels I was wearing and the stockings that came up so high on my thighs only increased the total sexuality of my ensemble. 

He looked at her with sudden desire, but kept that to himself.  At only nineteen, the new girl seemed humiliated by the outfit and looked instead like she wanted to die—she definitely wasn’t an exhibitionist.  But he knew that she just wasn’t used to seeing things like this on women in public, let alone wearing them herself.  Bossman thought he had rarely seen such a beautiful and sexy woman as this one.  He well knew there were beautiful women and there were sexy women, but very few times was the same woman both.  Another plus was that this girl really didn’t know how beautiful she was.

She was young, but didn’t see such a magnificent specimen as this female very often--he would make his plans accordingly.

My feet felt like lead, like each one weighed a thousand pounds each.  Taking my hand at 6:30 PM sharp, he led me to the door and into the galley where he announced, “Gentlemen, I would like to present M.” 

I tried to stop, to not enter, but he pulled me in by my hand.  I moved slowly, awkwardly, wanting to be anywhere but here, with them.  The men seated around the table looked at me with emotionless faces, while I was led to the counter which contained their food.  My mind swirled chaotically and my face flamed at the intensity of all of the men’s eyes as they devoured me. 

The dinner began and I somehow served all five men without difficulty, without tripping or falling, without being grabbed, without further humiliating myself.  The men took their time eating and talked of various things that needed to be done, some of which included my training schedule.  Nothing was just suggestive here, it was openly stated.  I tried to not to listen, but the coarseness of some of what I heard both shocked and terrified me. 

The men were either afraid of him or respected him too much to insult me.  They were rather formal as they addressed Bossman, almost as if they were uncomfortable with the arrangement.  Yet they talked of me as if I did not exist.  I was still moving in a fog and unfortunately, or fortunately, I remembered little of what was said about me or to me.  The men’s meal went by in a blur and finally they were done.  There was even a few minutes left for me to eat. 

There was plenty of food on the table and I was extremely hungry.  Thankfully, I was allowed to use a fork, so I was able to eat quickly.  At 7:30 PM sharp, Bossman stood up and gave me the hand signal that my dinner was over even though I was still hungry.  He led me back into my cabin and closed the door, ensuring our privacy.  After a moment’s silence, he told me to change out of the gown while he laid out something else for me to wear.  I slowly began to undress, my hands still shaking and fumbling. 

Suddenly, I stopped as I felt a touch of frustration.  It was stupid, making me dress for an hour, then making me change again.  I didn’t understand at the time that it was just part of the plan, part of his indoctrination and a way to get me used to following his orders….

Once he had unlaced the back of my gown, it took me only a couple of minutes to remove the rest of my clothing.  It seemed like in only seconds I was naked again.  Bossman then ordered me to fold everything neatly and carefully put it in the dresser drawers; I was to do this with all of the clothing I might wear every day, until it needed to be cleaned again.  However, I was to hand wash my stockings each night and when dry, put them in the drawers ready to be used the next time.

With his permission, I reluctantly walked over to the bed and looked at what he had laid out for me.  Comfortable, I thought to myself; huh, yeah.  Part of what he’d laid out was a sheer black cupless front lace-up bustier with garter straps.  I swallowed the lump in my throat, held this up and looked at it for about thirty seconds before I even recognized it went around my waist.  He had also added a sheer black chiffon short robe that barely came down over my butt, and the inevitable stockings.  This time they were sheer black hose with an embroidered stocking welt.  Another set of black five-inch, stiletto heeled strappy sandals finished off the outfit. 

Off to the side, there was a set of long dangling earrings and a thin black velvet choker.  I laid it down, looked at what was on the bed and then looked at him thinking, this is not real--these outfits were picked out by a thirteen year old boy--they look like they are out of some adolescent’s wet dream.  Please!!  I’m sore and I’m afraid. I am tired and I don’t want to wear this stuff tonight.  And I really don’t need voyeurs.  I don’t want him watching me dress like this again---and most of all, I don’t want anyone touching me tonight.  Please, just not tonight, not again.

As if he could read her mind, Bossman said, “You’re here because of your body and your looks.  Your face shows your reluctance, I get it, I really do. But here’s the reality, you’ll wear whatever I tell you to wear, whatever you’re given to wear for as long as you’re supposed to wear it—now that’s a good slave.” 

He didn’t have to say that last, I thought to myself--I actually flinched when he used the word slave.  I meant nothing to him. Truly, I didn’t.  I needed to understand that, believe it and understand the ramifications.  What I had lost, what I had gone through meant nothing either.  But it drove the point home that he had won and I had lost.

Bossman continued as he waved his hand at the dresser, “You’ll get used to wearing lingerie: garter belts, bustiers, babydolls, stockings, heels and all of the rest of it.  You’ll also get used to wearing leather and rubber and nylon too.” 

He smiled his smile of anticipation, “Now, enough talk, enough delay.  Put it on.  And one more thing M, you look someone just killed your puppy.  Learn to smile.  You may not feel like it, but I want to see you smiling from now on.  All of the time!  Do you understand me?”

I nodded my understanding at him, but inside there was nothing but cold emptiness.  Smiling was the last thing I wanted to do, just above dressing in this awful lingerie.  My buzzing mind was on autopilot, as I began with the bustier.  I stepped into it and laced it up tightly over my belly and then repeatedly adjusted the bar shelf under my breasts until they both rested comfortably on it.  I tried to ignore how the chain connecting my nipples draped seductively below my cleavage.  The marks from where my breasts had been bound previously were almost gone by now, although a little of the soreness still remained.  Because of all the adjusting that I’d had to do to get my breasts comfortable, my nipples were a little erect at this point and this embarrassed me as soon as I saw Bossman looking at them.

I really didn’t want to do this but had been left no choice.  I forced my hands to pull the garter straps down my thighs, sat on the edge of the bed and put on the stockings and the high heels as I had been shown.  My stomach roiling, I stood up and walked over to the dresser mirror to run my hands up both of my legs.  I made sure I was smiling as I did all of this, but it was a cold, emotionless thing. 

Taking off the slave collar without too much difficulty as I walked back, I put on the short robe, the choker and finally the earrings while standing in front of the mirror.  I looked at my reflection and then rearranged the bustier once more since my breasts really were uncomfortable with the way they’d been pushed up and out. 

I checked my reflection one last time and had a sudden urge to vomit at what I saw—but I think I looked perfect for him.  Finished, I swallowed hard as I turned and stood in front of Bossman.  I hated what I saw as much as I was frightened by it, for as I looked at him his eyes had a raging intensity I had never before seen and he had a huge erection.  I glanced up and away quickly, for this intimidated me more than anything. 

I really messed up then.  For some reason unknown to me, without any thought as to consequences, rather than assuming the submissive pose I knew was expected, I instinctively dared him as I suddenly spread my legs a little and stood with one knee in front of the other, gazing directly into his eyes.  It was idiotic of me.  It was provocative and childish.  It was a stupidly contrarian and unnecessarily challenging move to make. 

Although only nineteen and not well experienced in the ways of sex, as a woman I instinctively knew how to excite and challenge an alpha male like this.  Yet without thought, I had stupidly decided to challenge his domination of me at the same time, on his own boat even!!  He immediately knew what I had done.  I saw the flash of anger on his face and understood at that moment that he had to punish me for my actions. 

Without warning, he quickly slapped my face hard with his right hand while his left shot out and grabbed my right nipple.  Twisting it savagely, he asked, “Do you have something to say, you stupid, young slut?”

My provocative stance shattered, I shuddered at the savage pain in my breast and took an involuntary step backwards.  My courage gone now, I quickly re-assumed the slave position while saying at the same time, “No, Master.”

Bossman stood there for a second before letting go and putting his hands on my shoulders.  He shook his head in disbelief.  His deep voice gravelly with anger, he said, “You stupid, stupid girl.” 

In a softer voice, he continued after a moment, “M, don’t play games with me---you really don’t want to do that.  You’ll do nothing but get hurt, and I will still win.  Do you finally begin to understand what you are?”

I nodded quickly, without looking at him, even though I understood later that I really didn’t.  I was looking down at my feet and saw his tumescence had decreased slightly from before, but he wanted to touch me and I knew I was doomed to pay for my brief moment of courage.

His left hand then went to my left breast and he began to softly fondle it, paying special attention to my nipple and the ring that pierced it.  He massaged my nipple with a lingering movement, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger.  Ensuring he could not see my face, I grimaced at the pain emanating from the slightly infected area. 

Finally swollen to its maximum, he continued playing with my suddenly goose-pimpled flesh for another minute before he slowly walked around behind me without letting go of my nipple.  When behind me, he then trailed his right hand trailed up over my hip from the back and then slowly down my belly and over my remaining pubic hair to my clit, where he began to roll it between his right thumb and forefinger.  I shuddered once, then froze again in the required pose. 

I’d known the second I’d done it that it was mistake trying to play with him.  He’d punished me, but then he’d done something remarkable.  I felt paralyzed when he moved around to my rear and suddenly it seemed like my mind had split in half.  I was an innocent nineteen year old.  I knew I shouldn’t be here on this hellboat.  I knew I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t been kidnapped.  What I had facing me, this was not something I wanted, this was something no sane woman wanted.  I ached in every bone and joint in my body.  I’d been kidnapped and raped, sodomized and tortured.  I was barely keeping it all together.  This was any normal woman’s worst nightmare. 

And then…..and then…..there was that other part of me.

Suddenly, I understood part of why I had done what I did.  Although I hated myself for even having a glimmering of these thoughts, a part of me honestly found him both exotic and immensely erotic.  Even now, as I froze in the slave’s position of submission, I wanted to challenge him.  I could feel his erection lightly touching my buttocks and while still sore, both my nipples and clitoris were erect and amazingly sensitive.  Despite the soreness from being abused, parts of my body were still demanding attention from a man.  The worst part was that it didn’t even have to be this man.  I think--it could have been any man…  At.  That.  Moment. 

It was like sanity returned for a moment.  And I was harsh as I judged myself.  God!  I was horrible, I hated myself.  I didn’t recognize myself.  I was the worst kind of slut!  I was the kind of girl I’d always hated in school!  There was a distant voice in my head screaming that this was not normal; this was not me, this couldn’t be me.  At the same time, there was an even more distant voice screaming in my mind that there was nothing like this for me back in Mississippi or Florida.  I couldn’t believe how confused and whipsawed I felt at this moment, the faintest touch of desire fighting against the profound hatefulness of it all.  I just knew that I had to be going insane to be thinking these thoughts, to even consider these things. 

This man had raped me.

His voice broke into my thoughts, sounding husky as he whispered in my ear, “I promised myself I wouldn’t touch you again while on this boat.  Now, I am going to break that promise.  You belong to me and I’m not denying myself—we’re doing this now.”

I swallowed hard as I looked at him. 

Bossman’s thoughts were random and flitting, yet to the point, it’s stupid doing this.  It’s too soon.  I may have broken her, but she’s still got too much spirit left.  But I’m hard as a rock.  I’m gonna give this hot little bitch everything she wants and a little more, enough to put her down in the gutter where she needs to be.  Even if she stays in the gutter, it’s still too soon.  One thing though--now we’ll see how everything’s been working; the drugs, the lack of sleep, the stress of the rapes and of being forced to change.  

With that, he forced his teenaged captive over to the bed and told her to sit on the edge of it.  The girl looked both expectant and frightened at the same time, like she’d known for a long time that it would finally come to this yet somehow looked forward to it.  

Bossman couldn’t believe that he was going to do this with this girl, at least not now.  M wasn’t supposed to be on his menu anymore.  He’d planned on having his crew work her over, while he got her to trust him and then he’d use her to make a boatload of money. 

Annoyed with himself, he ground his teeth in frustration at his physical weakness, at his libido.  It was wrong.  This was just his physical desires driving him now and he hadn’t made decisions based on these kinds of needs for a long time.  He hoped there was something more going on here than just that, but he knew there wasn’t.  There was no emotional connection here, just a man’s lust and a primordial desire to impregnate this woman. 

His woman!

He had her sit on the edge of the bed and spread her knees wide, then lean over slightly and put her hands on her knees and just look at him for a few moments.  M had a befuddled look on her face as she exposed her most secret parts to him.  He looked at her and her body was as beautiful, all over again, as was her face.  And it all was on display just for him.  Beauty like this faded, it always did.  Suddenly, he realized that the exclusivity he had forced upon her, taking her off the beach, out of all public view, was a huge part of the excitement he felt when he looked at her. 

She was slightly bent over and her breasts were pushed together by her upper arms as her hands rested upon her knees; both nipples stood out in wonderful, magnificent relief. 

He could clearly also see that her labia were swollen, most likely from the abuse she had suffered earlier.  But was it his imagination that both heat and moistness just seemed to rush out towards him from between her legs as she obeyed his every move? 

He was an adult and an experienced slaver!  It could not all be just in his mind…..??

Finally, he had M lie back on the bed.  She quickly obeyed his order.  He noted the way her face went from emotionless to showing confusion.  Yet even as she executed his command, without having to, the girl pulled up on her lingerie and completely exposed her vagina to his gaze, along with her long shapely legs.  M’s long blonde hair lay splayed out on the bed around her head and her bare breasts rose more quickly as her breathing rate began to increase. 

Speaking softly, he said, “Raise your legs and point them at the ceiling.”  Her face still showing confusion, the kidnapped girl slowly did as ordered.  After taking a moment to enjoy the view, he said, “Now slowly spread your legs as far apart as you can.”  M hesitated for only a second and then complied.

It was horrible, degrading.  I don’t know why I obeyed him like this but the sexual vulnerability this position put me cannot be underestimated nor overstated.  I obeyed each of his commands though, and it was as if another person was doing this while I was off to the side watching this….other girl….perform for this man.  Another part of me was hoping he felt what I offered him with this move was a good sign I had truly accepted my bondage under him. 

I saw he was standing between my legs, looking down at my vulva.  I raised my head briefly and looked down at him from under my eyelids.  That my genitals were looking reddish and a little swollen actually seemed to please him.  Oh God, I suddenly realized I had become wet and had even swelled slightly there while actually under his gaze and his touch, and I now felt slightly puffy too, as if overflowing with unsought need.  What was wrong with me? 

I closed my eyes so that I wouldn’t have to look at him and kept my arms spread to keep my hips in balance.  I couldn’t believe that this was happening to me; that I was not only really cooperating with him, but had realized for the first time that part of me wanted to be with him.  I also understood for the first time that…I think….I wanted him to want me.  It was a dizzying thing.  Being wanted and being taken were two very different things.  This crazy teenage thing had to be from shock, it wasn’t the real me, couldn’t be the real me.  I…I….I don’t know what this meant. 

My heart was beating harder and harder, and I closed my eyes so he wouldn’t see my confusion.  As his hands first touched my ankle, I clenched my fists around handfuls of bedding in both dread and an awful anticipation.

Putting both of his hands around M’s slender left ankle, Bossman slowly ran his hands down her nylon-clad leg.  The slippery feeling of her stocking under his hands aroused him immensely, while the visual hues of the sheer black hose she wore accentuated the magnificently erotic topography of her ankles, calves, knees and thighs. 

All of this was terribly sexy and totally alluring to him.  Especially the fact that he had this young girl here, on his boat, under his control.  And she would be doing anything for him that he wanted. 

He was gigantic and ready to burst if he didn’t soon get relief inside her soon.  But he wanted more; her silence wasn’t enough—he desired her cooperation in this.

From M’s slim and shapely ankle, his hands slowly slid to her softly rounded yet muscular calf, hesitating and stroking around and just above her knee and finally down her firm thigh to the top of her hose.  There, he played with the top of the stocking for a second, running his hand underneath it before finally continuing to her pussy.  Here, he gently pushed the tip of his thumb into her moist vagina before using it to rub her clitoris.  He looked up as M inhaled sharply.  Her eyes were closed, but there was a small, serene smile of pleasure on her face.

The whole while, he talked with her gently, easily.  When he responded to something she had sighed, it was always a simple comment.  The trick with females like this was to give just enough response so that they thought he was actually participating in a conversation.  Until the end, when he could no longer delay the inevitable. 

Bossman looked at her face for a second and then said, “Total surrender can be very liberating, intoxicating even, can’t it?”

Oh, the sweetness of giving in, of full surrender.

-Sebastian Faulks, in Engleby

Without opening my eyes, I nodded both my understanding of what the question really implied and where my compliance with it would ultimately take me.  The foreplay, at least that’s what I think it was, would have been pleasant in any other circumstances.  Even if longer than anticipated.  Mostly though, I was screaming no, no in my mind, don’t do this; yet a contrarian part of me couldn’t believe the thrilling, tingling sensations between my legs as he slowly tortured me with his gently caressing hands.  Deep down, but unmistakably there, there’s a weak throb of excitement.  A distant signal from the remotest star.

A tiny part of my brain still argued that I didn’t want this; but the rest of me had already given in, finally admitted how good it felt having him touch me like this and how ready I was for a man like him. 

The thought shocked me.  For the first time in my life, I understood I had never been around a man, a real man.  Right or wrong, at least he was a man.  All the boys I knew had been feminized, taught that masculinity was a toxic thing. 

My God!  What was I thinking?  What was I doing?  I was only nineteen–years old…what did I know about life other than in my unfounded arrogance of being young?  I was smart, very smart, but how could I even be considering this?  This man was old enough to be my father.  Had he hypnotized me?  Was this some kind of Stockholm syndrome thing----or was this something deeper?  Was this my mind’s unconscious attempt to ensure I survived being captured by this man, or were my reactions something that had always been inside me but had only brought out by the situation this man had put me in?  God help me, please!

Letting him take full responsibility for what I knew would happen tonight allowed me to at least maintain the small fiction that I was not cooperating with his every move and demand.  But admitting to this deception had seemed so difficult, yet suddenly it seemed so freeing.  God!  How could I even be considering this?  God help me fight this; help me fight giving in to him. 

He escalated then.  When he began softly massaging my pussy, all of these conflicting thoughts went away and I lived for the moment.  All my teenage angst and naïve opinions about love, every bit of my upbringing and all of my beliefs about morals and the goodness within me, all of these things vanished as if a feather on the wind.  My moan of pleasure was the answer to all of the doubts and fears that had plagued me.  I forced myself to remain still yet immediately began to get even wetter and my breathing increased helplessly as Bossman continued to stimulate forbidden between my legs.  I couldn’t help myself--it just felt so good!

Bossman brought his hands back up to M’s ankle and now put both hands on the inside of each of her legs.  Again beginning with her ankles, he slid his hands slowly down the inside of her calves, working his way towards her knees and finally her thighs, always pushing her legs further and further apart.  Stopping and stroking the inside of his teenage slave’s thighs for a minute, he then went back down beyond the tops of her stockings and again began working on her wet vagina and clitoris with both of his hands this time. 

His fingertips and thumbs worked, massaging her, sharing his pleasure.  M tossed her blonde head from side to side in small movements which became larger, and then gave out a low soft moan of pleasure that seemed to go on forever.  He worked on her clitoris for a couple of minutes, stroking it, rubbing it between his fingers and finally just lightly touching it. 

He then reached over and brought out a vibrator and gave it to her with the unexpected order, “Massage yourself where it feels best.” 

M opened her eyes to see what he was giving her and for the first time, Bossman could see her eyes were now a darker green than before, her pupils were enormous and they were filled with confusion.

Feeling sensations and emotions I’d never experienced before, I took the vibrator and slowly put it between my legs.  I gently laid it directly on my clit.  I let it rest there lightly as it vibrated my hot spot, sending surges of electricity up and down my spine.  I felt a pin-point flicker of flame between my legs that began to grow and grow with every moment I concentrated on obeying him.  I had finally given up fighting whatever it was that I had been struggling against……I had known exactly what would happen when I dressed like this tonight. 

I now knew that even though I had no choice tonight, I would offer this man, my master, whatever he wanted, whatever I had that he desired.  I might be a prisoner and even a reluctant slave, but tonight I couldn’t help myself.  At nineteen, I thought, I am finally ready for this.  Yet doubt was always there in the back of my mind, I felt so confused; this couldn’t me lying flat on the bed ready to accept a man between my willing thighs, yet I couldn’t believe how intensely I felt that I was finally ready.

Slowly pulling her hands away from her groin, Bossman knelt and slid his face between the blonde teenager’s firm, gorgeous thighs, finally dipping his tongue into the pot of love she hid there.  Her vagina had a wonderful musky smell and her pussy was wet with love juices.  M moaned a soft drawn out “YYYyyeeeesssssss,” and slowly moved her hips in circles as his tongue penetrated deeper and deeper.  With her legs spread wide and in the air, she was totally open and willingly vulnerable to him. 

After a moment, I dropped my feet until they were draped over his shoulders and my heels then rested on his back.  He softly tugged at the lips of my vagina with his lips and after searching for a minute, he captured my clitoris and then sucked until it swelled up like a small penis.  It was extremely sensitive, because each time he took it in his mouth and sucked, I knew groaned helplessly and arched my stomach into the air.  God, how I hated being a puppet and him the puppet master; yet I reacted to his every desire as he pulled first this string and then that. 

At the same time, all sounds receded and I felt there was a gap, an insurmountable distance between the real me and the insides of my thighs as they pressed uncontrollably against his face; my mind seemed to keep its distance as my body reacted to his tongue.  As his mouth worked the deep V between my legs, his arms on the outside of my legs, Bossman kept his hands on top of both of my thighs slowly sliding them up and down, all the while seeming to enjoy the slick feeling of my legs beneath his fingertips.  He then changed the position of his mouth and sucked softly while covering my whole vagina.  I responded with a deeper groan and began to slowly grind my hips into his face, while at the same time my feet began to beat a soft tattoo on his back.  In only moments, I was shocked as I heard my voice softly repeating, “Yes.  Oh yes.  Oh yes!”  As he sucked, my love juices began flowing even more strongly as he alternately swallowed and spit out my heated wetness.

Later, he pulled his head from the luscious wetness between her teenage thighs, shrugged her legs from over his shoulders and pulled M up into a sitting position so he could see how far she was gone.  Her eyes were huge at this point and the girl was breathing heavily.  Everything was working perfectly; she wasn’t aware that it wasn’t really her responding---or perhaps it was a secret part of her that he’d uncovered. 

She couldn’t know that it was the drugs and the full court coercion, the pain and the fear of punishment.  That she hadn’t really made a conscious choice in this, had not been allowed to make a choice even in this.  But then again, like he’d found in so many other women before her, perhaps the need to be punished and controlled and tamed was truly a part of her nature.

Certainly, she seemed to want nothing more than to have him inside her—damn, is she ready and willing now, he thought to himself.  Standing up, he guided her hands to his pants.  The whirr of a zipper followed as she enthusiastically freed his erection.  Putting his hands on the back of her head, he pushed her mouth towards his groin.  Without any hesitation, M opened her mouth and with difficulty was finally able to put the first part of his cock inside. 

I couldn’t believe I was willingly doing this to him, doing this for him.  I’d never had a man in my mouth before, had never wanted to have a man there.  Now I was getting ready to suck on a giant black cock like it was Christmas time and he was a big lollipop.  His hand was on the back of my head pulling me toward him and I saw his giant erection coming closer and closer to my face like a scene on television zooming in towards the viewer.  He was so large that it was difficult to get my jaws wide enough to accept him. 

I could only get the first couple inches of him inside my mouth, but finally I started sucking and moving my head back and forth like I had seen in porn films.  I knew I wasn’t very good at this.  I’d never done this before, but I knew that it seemed to feel good to men and for some reason I wanted to please this man.  I knew that I wasn’t the best at this tonight, but I somehow also knew that I would get a lot better in the near future. 

I was so confused with the speed at with which everything that was happening to me tonight. 

And my reactions. 

Now that she was finally ready, Bossman moved his loins away from her mouth and took her hand, moving her onto the center of the bed where he could better take her.  The blonde teenager he had kidnapped willingly lay on her back with her legs spread apart and one knee slightly raised.  He marveled at her firm, youthful breasts, full and jutting into the air as they responded to the design of the constrictive lingerie, the nipples standing proudly erect. 

She looked at him with eyes of dark, dark green as finally, with a small smile, she held her arms out to him.

Lowering himself upon his captive’s flat hips and stomach, he settled down on her body making sure to support his weight with his elbows.  Time to be gentle.  Even though she was drugged and was responding quite nicely, he didn’t want to scare the girl tonight too much for there would be plenty of time later to be a hell of a lot rougher with her. 

M’s legs came up and locked around his waist of their own accord for a moment, then smoothly slid down his flanks and then intertwined with his legs---he loved the feel of her nylon-clad legs slickly moving across his skin.  At the same time, her hands slid around his shoulders and her fingernails began to dig into his back.

M startled him then by grabbing his ears and making him look deep into her eyes.  Her beautiful eyes suddenly filled with unshed tears.  “Please be gentle tonight,” she entreated in a tone that was almost begging.  Her voice was filled with emotion…..with urgency……and with poorly hidden anticipation. 

After a moment of profound silence, M pleaded with him one more time.  “I belong to you.  I’ll do whatever you want tonight, but please don’t hurt me anymore.  Not tonight.” 

Keeping her belly and hips pinned by his weight, Bossman took his time as he maneuvered his groin and when the tip of his cock felt her moist, hot lips, he gently moved forward.  As the head of his cock first parted her lips and then entered M’s vagina, he felt her try to throw her pelvis into him, but the way he had her hips pinned, she couldn’t get traction, couldn’t get any deeper penetration with her moves.  A sudden sensation distracted him for a second as her fingernails dug painfully into his upper back.  Surprisingly, he then felt her hands slide down his back to the cheeks of his ass where they dug in again as she tried to pull him further into her.

Unwilling to hurry, Bossman played with his new slut for a couple of minutes, giving her slow ins and outs, with only an inch or two ever penetrating the wet lips of her pussy.  Inexperienced in the ways of consensual sex, M was becoming increasingly restless with her need for satisfaction as she lay beneath him, but he knew this was a core part of being a slave---she’d wait on his needs. 

He then stopped moving and lay on her with only two inches of himself inside her.  When he began the short drives again, he made sure that the angle of his drive into her body ensured maximum friction between the massive head of his cock and her clitoris. 

She stirred anxiously beneath him, the anticipation obvious. 

I wanted him, but he wouldn’t cooperate, he wouldn’t complete any of the strokes that would start me towards my release.  I grabbed his head again and looked deeply into his eyes, then searched the ruined side of his face.  I instinctively knew he was doing this to torture me, but at this point I didn’t care—all I wanted was that giant cock buried inside me. 

Besides, some torture is GOOD torture!!!

At first, I just lay there, but within moments I began moving helplessly in an increasingly erratic way.  My legs began writhing, slickly moving up and down his legs.  Something thumped inside my head then and my connection with reality began to fade.  It must be a hallucination I was experiencing, part visual and part tactile.  I was groping about in my own head, lost and panicking.  I felt his hands…I felt my hands…I felt my hands pulling harder on his ass, and then I began moaning and finally begging him for relief, “Please, give it to me.  Plllleeaassseee give it to me.”  And I knew everything was real. 

But he was implacable.

Finally, knowing that he just had to feel his cock buried up to the hilt in the extraordinarily beautiful teenager that lay under him, Bossman grabbed M around the neck with both hands and began lightly choking her while he gave a giant thrust of his hips and buried every inch of his erection inside her pussy. 

The kidnapped girl was ready for him, ready for this.  God!  How she was ready!  Her pussy was wet and tight and felt hot to him.  Her ass felt firm as his balls slapped against her crack and her belly arched deliciously into his. 

She reacted instantaneously with a long drawn out scream, “Aaahhheeeeeyyyyeeesssss!”  This was a shriek of pure pleasure and to all of the men on the boat that heard her, the difference now and what they normally heard on this boat was immediately obvious.

He was choking me as he made his first full thrust inside me and I couldn’t breathe---but it felt so fantastically erotic, so good and so right.  God, he filled me and it felt so gooooood!

Suddenly, I reached up with my teeth and buried them in the flesh of his shoulder as I squeezed my legs as hard as hard as I could around his waist. 

Bossman reared his head back, not in anger but rather because he was surprised by the reaction he felt inside himself.  Inevitably, as he moved, the huge pulsing muscle that totally filled the teenager’s belly flexed.  Her eyes suddenly somehow became even larger and shinier, and her pupils expanded until they seemed to fill her eyes.  Suddenly, M moved her legs still wrapped around his waist.  She tightened and the pressure from her strong thighs was immense.  He knew she truly was as ready for this as much as was he. 

He jerked and then thrust into me again.  God!  How good it felt to be filled by a man this large.  To fuck him and be fucked by him! 

Bossman again tried to remain motionless while insider her, but the way she’d just bit him, the way she was thrashing and throwing her hips and belly into the air ensured he could not.  Letting go of her neck, he waited until her hips bucked into the air again before he grabbed her ass with both hands and held on for the ride---he’d let her wear herself out this time carrying his weight as well as hers. 

Her ass was so firm, so muscular beneath his hands.  Someday, he promised himself, he would have her there too—THAT would be the final domination.  But for now, he centered himself on her body.  Every time she bucked or arched her belly into him and raised her ass off of the bed, her hips now supported all of his weight too.  He knew from vast experience that even a young, athletic girl like M couldn’t keep this ride up for too long before she either came or was too tired to continue. 

But while she did, it was like taking a ride straight to heaven. 

And so it was, in less than six minutes I arched myself into my Master and held my body bowed into his for as long as I could, my jaw locked, teeth gritted as groans of pleasure worked their way free, while at the same time I shook to a mind numbing orgasm that went on and on and on.  My hips made an endless series of short humps into him, trying to get another half inch of his cock inside my body.  God!  It felt so wonderful! 

Finally sweaty and exhausted, I collapsed beneath his weight and lay pinned, trying to catch my breath.  I stared sightlessly at the ceiling while my fingernails fluttered on his shoulders and back; his engorged cock still buried in me.  Bossman rested between my widespread knees and my feet were inter-tangled with his.  I knew I had to be careful not to hurt him with one of my heels. 

Finally raising himself onto his elbows and off of his sated teenage slave, he glanced down and noticed the deep flush on her gorgeous chest.  There was no possible way this woman could fake that rush of blood to her breasts when she came, and it was an absolutely foolproof method of determining whether she had achieved orgasm or was just pretending. 

Neither of them were finished, no matter how times she’d gotten off.  Looking deep into her beautiful eyes, Bossman lowered himself onto her body and then reached under her shoulders and slid his hands along her arms towards the head of the bed where he grabbed her wrists and immobilized her.

Keeping his nineteen-year old slave’s wrists pinned, Bossman began moving his hips once more, slowly sliding his cock in and out, in and out of her tight, slick, fresh pussy.  Although she had just experienced the best orgasm of her life---given how badly her first sexual experience had gone, it may even have been her first orgasm--M was still a young healthy female and he could tell her body was again beginning to react to his moves. 

He felt her legs start to move again, encircling and pinning him and not allowing him to move.  She was still staring into his eyes when he leaned down and bit her neck, pinning her tender skin between his upper teeth and lower lip.  Turnabout was fair play, and as he took his first hard nibble, he heard her breath hiss as she quickly inhaled with pleasure.

Bossman continued his slow, methodical assault on her young, new pussy for a minute and then changed positions, opening his legs wider than M’s and making her drop her legs from around his back and close her thighs around his penis.  The sensations against his cock and ball sack felt great as he slid in and out of the nylon-canyon her muscular thighs formed when pressed together. 

He liked the feeling of control when he had a woman this way, because he was so big that even with her legs closed, once he was in this position he was so big there was still nothing she could do to prevent him from taking complete control. 

The sensations were overwhelming for a moment and then he regained control.  He slapped her face back and forth, not hard enough to cause damage but certainly hard enough to assert his ownership over her.  M’s face and neck were flushed red from his blows and her desire, but not bruised.

She looked shocked at first, and then suddenly seemed to realize that it was all part of the sex play taking place between them on the bed. 

Stupid little girl.  Soon, she would intimately know all these things….

M smiled then in pleasure and made her first attempt to grab his cock with her vaginal muscles.  Not yet experienced enough to have that kind of muscle control, a tiny, far away part of Bossman’s mind made a mental note to have his men work on it for a while. 

After stroking into her for a few minutes, he next had her roll over onto her left side and put her right leg into the air while he rested on his knees on the inside of her left leg.  His groin and M’s now fit together in a way that allowed him maximum penetration of her body.  There wasn’t a woman alive that he couldn’t make beg for mercy from this position, and that night, he made the young, teenaged M beg again and again and again. 

It was a punishment position, and he punished the blonde girl for a long time. 

After he grabbed her right leg and locked her knee and pulled it tightly against his chest, he leaned forward pushing her leg back into her side and giving him the potential for even deeper penetration into her. 

From a distance, he heard M plead once again for him to let her leg down and that he was too deep inside of her, but he gave his young victim no surrender and as his slave, she suffered because of that.  He penetrated her right to the top of her vagina, to the tip of her cervix, but carefully pushed no further. 

Regardless of how much wonderful pain he gave his teenaged lover, it was not enough, yet he was always careful to just fill her, but not truly harm her.  Only nineteen and naïve in the ways of the world…he would teach the girl her new role in life without first maiming her. 

He had one other move he did with his females that ensured their total submission to him, but she had not yet reached that point in her journey of indenturehood---he wasn’t sure, perhaps she never would.  Only time would tell.

How can this be?  How can this be me lying here under him?  The more he hurts me, the more he excites me and the more I respond to it---I was such a masochistic slut that I couldn’t help myself.  This was a side of me that no one had known existed, not even me. 

As the small part of me that was still rational looked on from a distance, it saw me take his soft blows and thrusting hips with magnificent erotic submission. 

I know he could hurt me more than he did.  My many bruises and my sexual pain were, I knew, to him and truth be known, if I could ever admit the damning truth to myself, they were proof to me also of his virility.  How insane was this?  I loved this!  But how could I love this?  Being taken by a man like this--being wanted by a man like this—being desired by a man like him. 

He kept working M’s inexperienced teenaged body, controlling her, pushing her, making her do things and go places in her mind until she finally reached an impossible barrier and she’d hesitate.  He’d work her body over that obstacle and make her carry him until she reached the next point of no return. 

In this way, he continually pushed her, forced the inexperienced nineteen-year old girl to venture into deeper and ever more corrupt sexual licentiousness, sometimes against her will, often times joined him enthusiastically.  They did this until there little unexplored territory left within her body.  This was no act of forced promiscuousness this time at least, for the beautiful young kidnap victim willingly consented to his every request at experimentation, willing acceded to each of his demands. 

Together, they further than any of his women had ever been taken before, at least this early in the process.  And it went on and on and on, the two of them, together, for almost ninety minutes.  His sweat-covered, magnificently masculine body was exhausted now, but the assault on her body had finally built into a perfect storm.  It was then that she gripped him again around his back with her thighs, impeding his thrusts.  If it had been any other woman, he would not have known if he was too larger for her, if his weight frightened her and she was trying to protect herself, or if she squeezed him with passion  But none of that fit with this girl, and in any case, it was too late to stop himself now. 

He struggled but finally accepted a partially defeated compromise against her crushing thighs.  She had become an angry, demanding lover towards the end, and it was only now that she came alive once more, rolling on top of him and grinding herself against his body, seeking hungrily for her own moment again. 

And now, unaccompanied by any cry of pleasure, came the deluge!

Finally, she had what she realized now was what she had wanted all along.  She hung on for dear life, her chest heaving against his, her heart beating like a hammer.  Bossman’s seed jetted into Victoria’s body with the force of a thousand hurricanes.  It came in pulses and each white hot wave seemed to penetrate deeper into his now willing slave, until her eyes began to roll up in her head.  And then, finally it was over. 

Teenage girls are little different from teenage boys in many ways and thus also have their own dreams and sexual fantasies of various types; of making it in cars with football heroes and young college men and of being stranded on desert islands with the perfect romantic man. 

Every minute it seemed he had come up with new ways to be inside of me, new positions that made me start at the beginning and experience my youthful and innocent sexuality over and over again.  And just when I thought it was over, when he could take me no further, he would make me shift or move just a little and it would start all over again.  He was a machine made of flesh, and I must have orgasmed a thousand times, perhaps more.  And when he had finally achieved release, the feelings inside me had been so intense I feared I might pass out.

We lay tangled together for several minutes.  When I could next move, I hugged him around his neck and wept softly.  I could not have stopped the tears if my life depended upon it, but I was smiling all the time behind those tears.  It had been perhaps the most wondrous experience of my life. 

I had given everything I was and now it was up to him to decide what it meant to him and what he did with me.

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

Bossman lay on his side with his arm draped over the slave he now knew he could successfully train; he would own her body and soul.  As a last act before going to sleep Bossman had allowed M to remove her heels, but that was all.  However, he made up for that kindness by making M re-deploy her butt plug. 

He smiled to himself, take with one hand and give with the other.  Take a girl of her age and class and life experience.  Torture her some, make her realize she was alone, that no one was coming to save her.  Have his crew abuse her for an extended period of time, and then come in like some kind of savior and treat her well.  Talk with them, dazzle them with his sincerity, make them feel important within the constraint of their new life, promise them things that he either had no intention of giving or could not give. 

The women were all untrained in ways to defeat this.  Despite his brutality early in the training, the females always needed someone to whom they felt they could turn.  He provided that and they turned to him unerringly, like an arrow from a master bowman hits the target bullseye. 

This blonde beauty was one of the latter.

Fully satiated, she was now breathing evenly and appeared asleep.  Finally beginning to get his breath back, he was admiring the youthful perfection shown off by her cupless lingerie, when he noticed the bright red flush now beginning to slowly fade from her chest and breasts. 

Her youth and innocence.  Her long, exquisite legs and surprisingly full breasts, her tiny waist and firm, hard ass.  Her exceptionally beautiful face and that thick, long blonde hair that hung almost to her waist.  All in all, she was fucking perfect! 

With a smile of release and contentment, he rolled over and immediately went to sleep.

He woke once in the night with a raging erection and brutally took her to obtain release.  M was still softly snoring when he rolled over between her spread legs and before she was awake he had forced his erection into her with one huge thrust of his hips. 

She awoke with a convulsive movement upon his first thrust, then bucked and tried to throw him off of her as she screamed, “Aaaahhhooowwww, OOOwwww, OOOOOWWWWW,” the last being at the top of her lungs.  Bossman immediately choked M to shut her up and began taking short brutal strokes into her pussy. He could hear his crew laughing on deck where they slept to catch the evening breeze.

I came out of a deep fulfilling slumber and screamed my way into awareness as someone began driving a telephone pole between my legs.  While it hurt terribly, it was not the act of sex itself that caused me to scream, rather it the absolute unexpectedness of it. 

Still more than half asleep, I fought hard as my fists pounded his back, but felt myself losing consciousness as my assailant choked me into submission.

Bossman knew he was inside M all the way now.  By the fourth or fifth stroke, the teenager’s vagina was beginning to lubricate and he was into his machine-like mode of deep, pile hammer slams into her body.  At this point Bossman had finally let her breathe again.  She had regained consciousness, she was fully awake and looking at him with fear.  This he saw, soon faded into desire as she finally began to get into the mood for some hard core sex.  Perhaps, he thought to himself later, he shouldn’t choke her quite like that. 

With all sleep now gone, I finally knew it was my Master above and inside me, and my fear went away.  Within seconds of my recognition of him, he stopped choking me and began to concentrate on subjugating me with his cock again. 

After about ninety seconds, I was finally able to join in but that didn’t seem to satisfy him as much as it had just a few hours ago.  I moved every way I knew to please him, and even though it took a little longer than before, soon we were making love like we had earlier in the evening. 

Only a week ago, I had been free.  Only a week ago, I could never have dreamed I would willingly be making love to a man such as this. 

Bossman looked down at the kidnapped blonde girl he was half fucking to death and thought to himself, young and inexperienced as she was, the stupid bitch was finally getting into the act.  And it was about time.  As he smiled down at her, he knew he would have to make sure his men addressed that failing too. 

He pounded her for ten minutes before he felt the familiar stirring in his groin and knew he would soon be able to get his nuts off into his captive teenager’s cunt once again.  When he finally shot all of his angry love into her, spurt after jetting spurt, he gave a long drawn out groan of pleasure and rested on top of her with his cock still inside her pussy. 

Her fingers were still clawed into his back even though he hadn’t moved for over a minute and that suddenly pissed him off, so without a word he rolled off of the newly enslave teenager and went to sleep again beside her.

In the end, he put what felt like a hot quart of semen deep into my belly and then relaxed on top of me.  My body tingled all over and for a few brief minutes I felt an amazing endorphin rush, the buzz that turned people into heroin addicts.  No wonder people could become addicted to sex. 

He felt heavy still lying heavy on me and, liking that feeling, I tried to hold onto him.  But this small act of tenderness seemed to annoy him.  It was clear he had an explosive temper and I had inexplicably annoyed him.  After handcuffing my left wrist to the head of the bed, he rolled off of me and went back to sleep again. 

Saddened by his lack of warmth after our unexpected moment of intimacy, I laid there wondering what in hell had just happened. 

I may be young, but I knew I was beautiful and desirable—too many boys and young men had told me this for it not to be true.  If I entered this relationship willingly, even enthusiastically, why was this not enough for him?  True, I had been kidnapped and enslaved.  But why did my cooperation not count for something?  What had I done wrong? 

I had learned one thing about him—I had to be careful.  I had been enslaved and there was nothing I could do to change that.  From now on, if I wanted anything from him, I had to think before I acted. 

Without thought, I ran my hands down my belly and stroked the insides of my thighs.  My groin and the insides of my thighs were sticky with his semen, and they buzzed with unanswered excitement.  I’d come close, but definitely hadn’t climaxed this time and would probably be awake for the next hour until my loins stopped doing the jitterbug. 

Was this how my mother felt after making love to my father?  Were all men like this? 

I touch my clitoris and began to manipulate myself in small, careful strokes since I did not want to disturb Master.  It took me about ten minutes, but I was finally able to satisfy myself.  I lay awake for another thirty minutes listening to my Master breathe and wondering what my life held for me—finally, I fall asleep with my arm draped lightly over my owner.