An Intelligent Woman
by Dirk Dirker



I



Irina Meyerson sat in the bar of a very exclusive hotel, sipping her well-mixed Cosmopolitan with the typical half-ironic smile that only seldom left her tender lips. After she had swallowed the sip she had taken, she licked them deliberately – a motion that would just as well have suited a young cat, relaxing in the sun after it had had a bowl of fresh cream.



Her height was slightly above average, her body slim and sporty, with slender arms and legs, her skin a little sun-tanned. Though, Irina was not your typical blonde bimbo: Her breasts were quite small and ver firm firm, her thick blonde hair was cut short and a little curled and fell just down on her shoulders, engulfing her head like a honey-coulored, chaotic aurora. It was that hairstyle and the gleam of intelligence and irony in her greenish-brown eyes that made men look at her with an amount of doubt. She was only 22 years old, yet Irina had already found out that certain men became insecure when they met a woman who knew what irony was, who even used it herself, whose intelligence was a little above average. Thank God there was also another sort of men, who enjoyed meeting a woman with more than half a brain.



Irina was very pretty with bordering on beautiful, and she knew it. Thus, she never made an over-zealous attempt to accentuate her looks much further. Instead she tended to choose a conservative style for her dresses and jewellery as well as only the smallest hint of sweet, airy perfume.

Today she had decided for a grey and black suit, white blouse, short red tie, silver clips on her earlobes and a thin silver bracelet around her left wrist. No rings. Rings tended to confuse some of her customers, and she preferred to do the confusing solely by herself. The makeup accentuated how pretty her eyes were, the lipstick was of nearly the same colour as the natural tone of her lips and just a bit glossy. Her fingernails were cut short and unpainted.



“You enjoy the evening. Admit it.” Carl, the man she spent the evening with, cocked a brow, sipped from his own drink – he had ordered a dry martini – and glanced at her over the brim of his glass. She liked him. She didn’t like all her customers, but she liked Carl a lot. In fact, she felt a little infatuated.

“It would not be a lie if I told you that I have not yet congratulated myself for going out with you”, Irina answered good-mooded. They sternly looked at each other for a moment and then broke into a laugh. Some of the couples on other tables and some of the people at the bar cast brief glances at them before getting back to their own business again.



Irina had begun working as a hostess one and a half year ago, when she had just started studying and needed money. She had found a small advertisement in the local newspaper and had answered it, curious and a little silly, interested in the people she would meet. It had been something like a weird little experiment to her.

She had always been a very modern woman, had enjoyed being self-conscious and free, to explore the world and what it offered to her. And she had always been curious. They had indeed decided to employ her, had given her minor jobs first and more demanding ones after some time, had even raised her salary.



Irina went out with wealthy men, entertained them for an evening and got paid better for her ‘service’ than any of her fellow students got paid for their jobs. She saw expensive restaurants, went to exclusive shows, sometimes even visited the opera when a customer was in the mood for that. Some of them wanted to flirt, some just wanted company for an evening. Most weren’t from town but were here for business reasons and could afford to pay very well for a pretty girl that could show them around and actually hold an intelligent conversation.



And of course some of them wanted sex. The agency threatened its employees with dismissal, should any of them offer sex for money to a customer. But Irina had never done that, since it would have made her feel like a prostitute – would even have turned her into a prostitute quite clearly. No, she didn’t offer the men sex – she just didn’t say ‘no’ if an interesting man invited her into his hotel room late in the evening. She had the precious freedom to decide for herself whether she would nod, smile and go with him or if she would say ‘thank you’, call herself a taxi’ and leave in the most polite manner.

She had slept with four customers since her employment for the agency had started. And now she admitted to herself that she was in the mood to sleep with a fifth one.



“You are very clever”, she said when they had both stopped laughing. “You have a good sense of humour, you have quite an amount of style and you are a good-looking man.” She smiled, her eyes glistening with dry humour. “And by the way, I have never been taken to a Mickey-Mouse-Movie before in this job.”

They both laughed some more and he reached for her hand. The touch made the few blonde hairs on Irinas Arm stand up a little, made her cheeks turn to a soft pink. She didn’t mind, it all just felt too good.

“And I have, I swear this is the utter truth, never before re-visited a town just because I met an interesting hostess there.” Carl stroked the back of her hand lightly. “I have been looking forward to this evening for weeks.”

“Was it worth the excitement?”

“It definitely was. But you make it sound as if the evening was already over, Irina.” Carl shook his head a little and contorted his face in a playful, tortured way. “Is it over?”

“It’s not. I am enjoying myself immensely and I don’t want to go home now. I don’t need to get up early in the morning tomorrow.”

This information made him look like a relieved boy for a moment, all vulnerable and sweet, even though he was a well-built adult, his black hair already greying a little at his temples. He sipped the rest of his martini and let go of her hand slowly, reluctant.

“Can I invite you to my suite, Irina? I don’t want to offend you, but we could have some champagne, we could talk a little more...”

She chuckled a bit. When she saw his startled glance she just shrugged and emptied her own glass. “I am not laughing about you. It’s just the situation. The little ... dance, you know? The dance we are performing right now, it’s all so ... civilized.” She reached for his hand now and felt his strong fingers. She pressed gently and her eyes sparkled with amusement.“I would like to see your suite, yes.”

They both laughed again, softly and knowingly. She felt a comfortable warmth in her stomach. It hailed from the cosmopolitan as well as from her infatuation. He paid for both of them and they left the restaurant, heading for the upper storeys.



II



They kissed when they had entered the lift. They kissed intensely, his warm lips touching hers with some polite reluctance, but she didn’t want that reluctance to exist much longer. Irina placed a hand on his cheek, slightly touched his lips, let her other hand find his waist, stroking him tenderly. He moaned a little and understood the message, intensifying his kiss. When the tips of their tongues touched for the first time Irina could feel her face get hot. The warmth had found her crotch and made her feel a bit woozy.

His suite was large, one of the most expensive ones the hotel offered, nearly on top of the building. She was impressed, but not very much so, since she had already met a lot of wealthy men during her employment and had visited a lot of exclusive places. There was champagne in a cooler at the side of the bed, just as he had promised. But she drew him away from it, when he advanced for the bottle. She grabbed him, looked into his dark eyes and kissed him again, opening his shirt with flying fingers. His hands pulled her jacket away from her, he opened her blouse, revealing the pearlish-white bra underneath. There was more kissing, more stroking. From time to time he looked into her eyes again, caressing her wild blonde hair.



“Please tell me I am not a customer for you”, he muttered under his breath, seemingly hopelessly lost in his arousal and desire.

“You are not a customer for me. I don’t do this with customers. I do it only with men I longue for.” She smiled and kissed him again. For a brief moment she remembered some of the less pleasing men she had gone out with – men who openly treated her like a prostitute, who expected her to be cheap, who tried to put her under pressure to get her to sleep with them, who thought of their money as a pry bar that would make her spread her legs sooner or later.



“You are not a customer”, Irina repeated when they sank down on the bed. She put her slender hands on his cheeks and couldn’t withhold another pleased moan as Carl opened her bra and kissed the warm, sweet flesh of her breasts. His tongue played with her left nipple for a moment and she smiled like she already had in the hotels bar when she felt it harden: like cat that is relaxing in the sun after it had a bowl of fresh cream. “You are a lover and I chose you freely.”

She was nearly naked now, only wearing her white, simple cotton slip. It shone brightly on her tanned skin. Both her rosy-red nipples were erect, accentuating her small breasts in a loveable way. When he leaned over her, stroking and kissing her again, she could feel the wetness between her legs with burning intensity. She felt a need to be filled, to be completed by this man.



In the meantime his hand had found her right hand and they folded their fingers, pressing against each other in a playful way. Irina could hear a gentle metallic noise, a clicking, and suddenly there was cool metal on her skin. She looked up and saw that Carl had lead her hand over her head to where the head end of the bed was – and that he had just put a handcuff around her wrist.

She looked at him, bewildered for a moment, and saw that he studied her face intensely. His gaze was still affectionate, but also aroused, curious and a bit expectant.

“Does that scare you?”

She considered that question, but only for a moment. She had been chained to a bed before and she usually enjoyed it. This time, she was quite sure she would enjoy it more than ever before. And she could very well see how much he wanted her to like this turn in events.

“I am not so easily scared”, Irina said smiling. She lifted her other arm upwards, both hands close together now, so he could chain her hands together.

And he did so, leading the short chain which connected the handcuffs through two of the bars at the bed’s head, then snapping the second cuff around her other wrist.

“You are beautiful.” Another kiss and he stroked her arms, let his lips caress her neck and throat, breastbone and nipples. “I wanted to see you tied since the first time I met you.” He placed one hand on her crotch, stroked her lips and her clitoris through the thin, moist cotton. The sensation made her moan again. She sprawled on the bed, goosebumps all over her body, playfully tearing at the cuffs a little.

“I’m yours now, Carl.” She couldn’t prevent her smile from being ironic again, but her cheeks burned nonetheless. “What are you going to do with me?”



He didn’t answer. Instead he reached to the side of the bed and brought two thin, soft leatherstraps up. Chromed buckles glistened at their ends. He pulled Irinas slip down, took it away, stroked and kissed the inner sides of her tighs.

“I am going to enjoy you, Irina. Enjoy you very much.”

Irina watched, as he looped one of the straps around her left ankle. She felt more aroused now, but at the same time excited, her heart beating a little faster.

“Don’t you want me to use my legs?”, she asked with warm humour in her voice.

He pulled the strap tight around her ankle, so that it pressed noticeably into her skin. The sensation was not painful, but it made Irina realize how sturdy and strong the leather was. Carl lead her foot to the side of the bed and looped it around a bar that was part of the beds frame, connected it and buckled the strap there.

“Cut me some slack”, she said jokingly. “I like being all caressed, but I would also like to be able to do some caressing myself.”

“You will not miss any of the action”, he answered smiling. “Don’t worry.” Having said that he took the second strap and looped it around her other ankle, leading it to the other side of the bed.

When both of her ankles were tied to the sides of the bed Irina was an outstretched figure on the bed, her legs widely spread apart, some wetness glistening in her sweet, soft crotch. Her legs seemed even more slender now, the muscles on her thighs and calves showing, her breasts moving with every breath she took. She could only wait for Carl to touch her again – she deeply longed for his touch and his kisses, even though her position was not all comfortable.

But he did not kiss her. He stood up, even closed his already opened trousers, and said, quite loud:

“She’s ready. You can come in now.”

Irina was startled when one of the suites door opened and three men entered the bedroom. She jerked in the bondage, instinctively tried to pull her hands free to cover her breasts and her legs together to hide her most vulnerable spot, but was only reminded of how practically she had been restrained on the bed. Her mouth was a wide ‘o’ ... an ‘o’ that only became wider when she recognized the men who were just now walking towards her nonchalantly.



She had met all of them during the last eighteen months, when she was their company for an evening. All three had offered her money for sex. All three had been uninteresting, blunt men with cruel eyes, men she would never had slept with in a million years, not even for a million bucks.

All three looked gleeful at her now. They were dressed casually, in jeans and Pullovers. Two of them – she didn’t even remember their names – were rather old, somewhere in their forties, one of them even quite muscular. For lack of a real name Irina instantly named him ‘Mr. Muscle’ in her mind . The third one was some kind of internet-mogul, not much older than Irina herself was, a skinny, pale guy who had told her he had made his first million at the age of twenty. He had been arrogant and self-absorbed to a level that had repulsed her and she had just barely been able to keep herself from throwing her drink into his face when he had offered her one thousand dollars if she followed him to his hotel room. She had just laughed and left.



And now they were here. All three were here and looked at her with that mean-spirited glee, looked her up and down. One of them, the second older man, lit himself a cigarette.

“Good work”, Mr. Internet said with a nearly breathless, astounded voice. He nodded to Carl. “You are worth your money, no question about that.”

“Wh... what the FUCK do you think you are doing? What the FUCK is this...??” Irina nearly screamed, tearing at the handcuffs and the straps holding her ankles and shaking her head in a way that made her curly hair fly up and down as if it was agitated itself. Her firm breasts teetered a little as she drew her torso upwards from the bed in a fruitless effort to improve her position.

“It was a trick – I apologize.” Carl looked at her and shrugged. There was no more lust in his eyes. Instead he had turned all business-like within a few seconds. He grabbed his shirt and put it on again, buttoning it thoughtfully. “I did what I was paid for and now I should leave.”



Irinas guts cramped, her face got hotter and redder than it had ever been before in her life. She teared at the handcuffs again, but of course the steel didn’t give way. She squirmed on the bed, tried to somehow get out of this position that had already started to feel much more uncomfortable than she had ever imagined. It was hard for her to think clearly: Her thoughts swam in a mixture of anger, shame and a deep feeling of betrayal.

“You ... you can’t ... FUCK get me out of here, Carl!” Now she screamed in earnest, writhing on the mattress like a madwoman, every of her muscles visible under her tanned skin. “Why did you do this ...??”

“Because he was paid well. Very well, in fact.” The Smoker stepped up to Irina, pressed a large hand on her mouth and pinned her head to the mattress. “And now shut up, or we will have to gag you, bitch. This place is very soundproof, but I am not going to take any risk with you smart-mouthed whore.”

“Mrgmmmmmh!” She tried to turn her head away from him, but he was much too strong and Irina was in a helpless position. She strained every muscle, but he held her silenced without any visible effort. Behind him she could see Mr. Internet and Mr. Muscle put a large bag on the suites table and opening it. And she could see Carl, who already had put his jacket on. He returned her desperate, wide-eyed gaze with a blank expression.

“I think we agreed on ten thousand?” There was only some mild interest in his voice. He looked away from Irina when Mr. Muscle handed him an envelope. He checked the contents briefly, then nodded. And he started walking towards the suites exit.

“Mmmmmmmghhhh!!!” She tried to hold him back with a shrill scream, but all she could emanate was a muffled, begging sound. She was not even sure if he had still heard it and she did not expect him to help her anyways. Not really. She was an intelligent woman and she knew she had been lured into a wicked trap.





III



When Carl was gone, The Smoker took his hand away from Irinas mouth – she could taste his salty sweat on her lips and that taste made her feel all the sicker. Mr. Internet and Mr. Muscle came closer now. They looked the pretty girl up and down, their eyes examining every inch of skin on her naked body.

“This is nothing else than illegal restraint!” Irina fought to make her voice sound tough and rational. “If you let me go now, nothing will happen. I will just forget this. You had your fun and you have scared me, okay?” Her voice trembled a little when she spoke it out – which was exactly the moment she realized how scared she was indeed. More scared than ever before in her life. “Let me go now and everything is fine. But if you take any photos or shit like that I swear to god I will send the police after your asses!”

“There is only one ass here that is on trouble”, Mr. Muscle answered. “And that’s yours.”

“Smart-mouthed bitch, just like I remembered her.” Mr. Internet said that nearly astonished. Irina decided that he was the member of their group who was most likely to be intimidated. She looked directly at him.

“I didn’t want to laugh at you and I apologize for doing it, okay? But I swear to god, if you don’t let me go now I will see you getting into prison, I will sue you and I will make your life ...”

He moved very quickly: Mr. Internet took two steps towards the bed, lifted a hand and slapped Irinas left breast with force, a loud, smacking noise echoing through the suite. For an instant there was nothing and then the pain shot through her body like something that wanted to crush her. She reared up, a tortured, sustained scream leaving her mouth, her heels digging into the mattress, her arms pulling on the handcuffs with such force that the steel dug itself deep into her soft skin.

The Smoker pressed his hand on her face again, gagging her very effectively. He smiled, but it was not much like a human smile, it made him look like a dog that was about to attack.



“Good hit. But she’s a screamer, no doubt. Give me the gag and help me to stuff her mouth.”

Irina breathed heavily through her flaring nostrils – and only through her nostrils, since she was determined to not allow these men to gag her. If she wasn’t able to talk sense into them her only chance seemed to be attracting the attention of people in neighbouring suites. She was close to panicking, but she still managed to keep her mouth closed even when The Smoker took his hand away – they had a gag, something with straps and laces and a black, mean-looking mouthpiece and she did not want to give them any chance to apply it.



“Come on, whore. Open your garb or we’ll just have more fun with you.”

They stood all three around her now, Mr. Internet holding the gag with feverish arousal in his eyes, his lips trembling from agitation. Irina shook her head and tried to turn it away from them, but Mr. Muscle grabbed her head and forced it into a good position for gagging her while The Smoker sat down on her torso, pinning her mercilessly to the bed. Mr. Internet brought the gag close to Irinas lips, his face red as a tomato, a cruel smile in his face.

“Come on, smart-mouthed bitch”, he said. “Come on, smart-mouthed whore, what else can you do?”

Nothing. She could do nothing, but Irina tried nonetheless. She jerked and twisted as much as she could, used all her strength to try to free her head from Mr. Muscles grip. It was a stall, a very silent, dirty battle, until she felt The Smoker grabbed her nipples and twisted them so forcefully that her whole universe disappeared in a white explosion of pain.

Her mouth shot open as she screamed, screamed as shrill and loud as she could. The gag was pushed between her lips, behind her teeth. It was not a simple ball, it was a proper mouthpiece, made from thick, black rubber, with creasings for her teeth and a small gap for her tongue. It set itself into her oral cavity as if it had been designed especially for her, her tongue was caught in the small gap that obviously had been included into the design for just that reason, the creasing made it easier to set it securely into her mouth. Irinas jaws were forced apart very far and the men held her in this helpless position while Mr. Internet strapped the gag as tightly as possible – the straps going around her head to the back of her neck, under her chin and across her face, joining each other on her forehead.



They stepped back when it was done, admiring their work. Irina was lying on the bead, spread out as she had been before, red marks showing on her wrists from her fight against the steel, that had already taken on her body temperature as if it was part of her. Mr. Internets hand had left a bright red mark on her left breast and the cruel gag made her look a bit alien, her eyes filled with terror, large and scared. Some beads of sweat had collected on her forehead now, her curled blonde hair sticking to her skin.

“None of us was so happy with your attitude”, The Smoker said calmly. He reached into the bag and brought something out that looked like a mix between a taser and a stun gun. Irina shuddered when she saw it and shook her head forcefully.

“Hruuuugh....!”

Shut up, or I’ll push this deep into your cunt.” He didn’t even sound angry. He just flicked a switch and the device hummed softly, a blue spark appearing at its tip, dancing there as if it was waiting for action. Mr. Internet meanwhile touched Irinas breasts dreamily, even stroked them, played a little with her nipples. When Irina looked into his face, searching for some remorse or some guilt, he returned the gaze and broke into an ugly, short giggle.

“You were scared that we might take photos of you”, he said mockingly. “Don’t worry, that’s not the plan.” He pinched her nipple playfully, then slapped her breast again. She bit down on her gag hard and tears welled up in her eyes. She blinked them away, looked up at the men, tried to keep her mind from going to the darkest places it could. Her fingers nervously fumbled the handcuffs restraining her.



The three men watched Irina in unison fascination for some seconds, but when they had passed Mr. Muscle touched Irinas crotch. He checked her lips with strong, dry fingers, pinched them a little, spread them and slowly pushed a thumb into her hole. That made her cringe and she felt as if she was going to throw ab. A loud sob escaped her gagged mouth.

“Uuogh....!”

“She’s nice and wet, but she’ll dry up soon if we don’t act fast.” He said it as if Irina was not a human being but merely some kind of good to be traded or used as long as it was fresh. More fear welled up in her, her guts now feeling watery and weak. She had never been raped before but she started to understand that it would happen to her today. The thought was sickening to her.



The Smoker nodded and touched her left thigh gently with the rods tip, the spark jumping onto Irinas skin and making the muscles in her leg spasm and jerk uncontrollable. The pain was very sudden, searing and immense. She reared up again, her arms pulling hard on the handcuffs, the skin on her wrists starting to redden and bruise. She couldn’t breathe and thus also couldn’t scream until the pain subsided. She lay on the bed, coughing and gasping, sweat coming from every pore in her tender skin now, coating her body with a shiny layer. She looked up at them and saw no mercy in their eyes, only relish and enjoyment.

“Hrrgh... hrrougmh...”

“Well?” The Smoker looked down at her and lightly touched the left part of Irinas ribcage, stroking her sweaty skin. “Seems we found another way to moisten the bitch up a bit.” He gave her another shot with the rod, this time touched the patch of skin he had caressed just before. Irina jerked again, teared at her bondage again, the white pain dimmed the world around her for some other seconds.

“Hrrouaaaagh!” She was not able to be louder than that and knew with all desperation that no one would hear her. The suites were built for people to feel as private as possible. It was an exclusive hotel. No one would hear her muffled cries. She bit on the gag she already hated, her white teeth showing around the black rubber.

“Do you want to be fucked, bitch? You can just nod, if you want to. What do you say, would you like to be fucked?”

She shook her head. A rape was the most evil thing she could imagine to be done to her and she wanted to prevent it under any circumstances. And if she would not be able to prevent it, at least she didn’t want to humiliate herself by playing along with their little game.

The next touch of the rod came against her stomach, making her spasm some more, scream some more, sweat a lot more. The moisture on her body seemed to worsen things and allow the pain to hit larger areas of Irinas body. Liquids and electricity ... she was an intelligent woman and knew what that meant.

But she could not stop herself from sweating, just as she could not get out of the chains and straps that held her. She arched her back again when he pushed the rod against her left breast, screamed and twitched when he used it on her right foot and then on her right upper arm. She lost consciousness and was woken up again by a painfully sharp smell in her nose. Smelling salt. Mr. Internet held it under her snotty nose and looked into her eyes, obviously amused.



“Don’t fall asleep!”, he said smiling cheerily. “It is going to be a very long night for you.”

“For now, all we want to know is one thing”, added Mr. Muscle. “Do you want to be fucked?”

Irina nodded, exhausted and defeated. She knew she couldn’t stand the pain anymore, not without going insane. Her body was covered with red marks where the rod hat already stricken her, her skin burned and tingled at those places- Her hands hung limply in the cuffs, the skin at the wrists damaged and dark.

“I’ll be first then”, The Smoker said contently as he undressed. He didn’t seem to mind the others watching. His cock was thick and had a size slightly above average. When he was naked he first kneeled between her spread legs, after that he lay down on Irina.

“You smell good”, he said like a perverted connoisseur. “The smell of sweat and flesh, no perfume or shit like that. I like it when a woman starts smelling like this.”

His cock was hard almost instantly, she could feelt it press against her. She closed her eyes, but that was almost worse because it made her concentrate on the feeling of his penis entering her. She opened her eyes again, as he grabbed her by her hair and forced her to look directly into his face.

“I am not going to offer you money this time”, he said good-mooded. “Is that better?” He pushed into her and Irina found it curious how easy he could enter her. The remains of her wetness and her fresh sweat played a role in that. She still moaned, if not from pain so very well from disgust, when she felt his bush press against her, when he was deep in her and started to rape her.



His eyes stayed on her eyes while he did it, and he took his time, like a man who has long ago learned to hold himself back, to enjoy sexual intercourse properly. His eyes were all pleased and gleeful and cruel and his right hand started slapping her cheek after some time, while he pushed in and out, his knees pressing her thighs even further apart, the tip of his cock pushing against her most inner parts.

“She’s wet again. Good girl this is, likes a good ride after all.” And he grinned while he slapped her face again, never looking anywhere else than into Irinas eyes.



And it was true. Of course she wasn’t aroused, but her vagina still started lubricating. It was a natural reaction and Irina knew it, but still she couldn’t help but hate her pussy for doing this to her. He moaned, mocking her and teasing her, and pushed harder now.

“Make her jerk a bit, but make sure you don’t hit me. I’d like to feel her dance.”

She wanted to scream, but they had already fulfilled his request: The rod touched the palm of her helpless left hand, making her spasm and jerk again. The Smoker laughed out loud and continued raping her.

“Again! The juice takes her cunt to a new level, believe me!”

Another shock, to her hip this time. And another one, hitting the sole of her right foot. Irina screamed and sobbed and at the same time saw how much he enjoyed the contractions the torture caused in her vagina.

“A good girl – give me the bag.” The Smoker extended a hand and was given a bag, another wicked item, made of black leather. He still looked into her eyes when he pulled it over her jerking head and heard her scream again, strapped it tightly to her throat and secured it that way. She could only barely breathe with this thing on her, couldn’t see anymore, heard them only muffled now. Her fear took over again, the fear of being molested further, maybe even killed. And when she jerked and wreathed this time, he came and pushed her down hard, cumming into her with force.

“Good ... yeah, good. You should have been nicer when we met the first time, you overpaid cunt.”



Her body was steaming with sweat now and she didn’t have the will to fight them anymore. She breathed as good as possible, tried to stay calm, to think herself somewhere else. They wouldn’t allow it. They opened a bottle of champagne, drank each a glass, then Mr. Muscle climbed on her. She was raped again and he also strangled her a little with his broad, thick fingers. He slapped her breasts, pinched her, finally gave her several hard slaps against her hooded head and then came just as hard and brutal as the Smoker had. Another drink for each of them, some cocaine as well, and Mr. Internet was next. He was careful at first, most likely because he had never before entered a woman, but once his surprisingly large cock was in her he lost all reservation. He also strangled her a little and only stopped when he was very close to cumming, went a little slower after that, took his time as good as possible. He licked some of the sweat from Irinas skin before he pumped into her. She was close to throwing up, but finally fought the impulse down, so scared was she that they might just let her suffocate on her stomach content in this dark, stuffy bag.



When they were done, each of them drank another glass of champagne. They just let the sweaty, bruised women lie on the bed as if she didn’t matter anymore, talked a little, joked a bit about her. It took the Smoker only minutes before he was ready again. “Ready for a second ride”, was how he put it. Irina gargled helplessly, the lack of oxygen weakening her further, when he climbed on her a second time.



They took turns after that and Irina started moving with their rythm, if only to ease the pain a little. Every time one of them was finished another one was in the mood again. They used the rod to make Irina jerk and spasm.

“Was it good? Do you think we are good lovers, Irina?” That was Mister Internet asking. Irina nodded, sobbing and crying.

“You do?” Mr. Muscle sounded curious. “Would you like to be fucked again?”

She nodded a second time. There was nothing she could do and she felt desperate. She just wanted this to end, wanted them not to hurt her anymore.

“Well then.” He mounted her again, used her again. The cocaine allowed him to last for half an hour. After that, the others asked her the same question. Irina nodded each time.



Each of them had used her five or six times and the night was nearly over when it ended. She had slipped into unconsciousness again and this time they had not cared. When Carl re-entered the suite it was empty – except for the restrained, bruised, dirty girl on the bed, wrists chained to the head of the bed, fingers pointing uselessly upwards, ankles strapped to the sides of the bed, her head hidden underneath the leather hood.

He approached her carefully, first looking for signs of life. When he saw that Irina was still breathing he checked the envelope on the table – another ten thousand were in it. He smiled thinly and sat down on the bed, close to the stinking, stained girl.

“Time to wake up”, he said softly, pulling the hood from her head. Her face was as bruised as her body, but not severely damaged, just smeared with sweat, snot and tears. She looked traumatized and broken, but she had not been seriously hurt in a physical way. She returned his glance with tired eyes.

“I am here to get you out of this suite”, Carl said in a nearly sympathetic tone. “Are you ready for that?”

Irina nodded weakly, sobbed a little, moved her bruised hands in the cuffs. The thin chain that connected them clicked gently against the bedpost.



“Good. I will not hurt you as long as you don’t try anything stupid. Understood?”

She nodded again, nearly like a robot. That made him smile a bit more intense. He took a small key from his pocket and unlocked the cuffs, then helped the woman sit up on the bed. But he didn’t yet untie her ankles Instead he took her slightly shaking arms, as soon as she was in the upright position and lead them to her back. Irina didn’t try anything stupid. She had not much feeling in her arms and absolutely no feeling in her hands anyways. She let him put her wrists together again, this time behind her, and only sobbed weakly when he tied them again – this time with a broad leather strap which he secured with a small padlock.

Another strap went around her elbows – she produced a weak mewing sound as he tightened it until they had been pulled against each other. She seemed to recover a little, her eyes not as dead as they had been before, some intelligence and comprehension starting to shimmer deep down in her pupils. Her smell was intense – the smell of sweat and sexual juices, of snot and leather and wet, naked skin. The gentle, sweet odour of her perfume had long since been washed away.

He untied her ankles and then pulled the gag out of her mouth, making more drool flow down her chin when it popped out from between her jaws. Then he took a glass from the table. It was still half full with stale champagne. He held it to her lips and she drank greedily, some of the sour liquid running down her chin and dripping onto her naked breastbone and belly.

“Oh god...” Irina muttered that weakly, her coarse voice sounding strange to herself. “I have never been fucked like this in my whole...” She sobbed and started crying a little, the crying somehow changing to an exhausted, half-mad laughter. He laughed with her, crazy as the situation was.

“I can easily believe that. And it’s not yet over.”

That made her eyes go blank again for a moment. She fixated some point in the room like a woman staring into nothingness. Her voice sounded bleak now. “No. I didn’t think so. They don’t want me to inform my employers, do they?” Her hands moved weakly in the bondage. She made a face when she felt how unforgiving her arms were strapped now.



Carl put the empty glass back on the table and shrugged. “Your employers have been paid very well – they will not ask questions about what happened to you. But of course there are other people you could talk to. And my clients don’t want to give you the opportunity to do that.”

“And what happens now?” She looked directly at Carl for the first time since he had taken the hood off her head. He was impressed by how quickly she regained some self control, how quickly she adjusted to the situation. Her greenish-brown eyes showed that spark of intelligence and spirit that could not be extinguished so quickly. There was a hint of tired, cold curiosity in her glance.

“Are you going to kill me?”

“No, not in a million years.” He shook his head, smiling. He placed a broad leather collar around her slim neck and buckled it. “I have a different task to complete. My job is to get you out of this hotel without anyone seeing you leave.”

That made her shudder, her eyes flicker, but she kept her gaze on him. “In the crate?”

“Yes. In the crate. So you have already noticed it.”

“I notice things quite quickly.” She nodded in a beaten way. The crate stood next to the bed. It had the appearance of a large piece of luggage, big but still too small to imagine an adult woman fitting into it. But since it was open at the moment, Irina was able to see its insides were heavily padded, several straps and belts attached to them. As if it was secretly made for transporting unwilling victims. “You are going to stuff me into that thing. And no one will even pause to think that a person could be in that.”

“I’m afraid so.”

She sobbed again, when he slipped a small leather bag over each of her hands, rendering her fingers useless. “Have you done this often before?”

“I have.” Carl checked the bags, laced them tight around her wrists, after that helped Irina to lay on her stomach. On her backside there were as good as none of the bruises or small, superficial burns, little red marks where she had been hit with the electro-shocker. “Please don’t try to beg your way out of this – I do what I am being paid for. If you try to fight or try to get loud ...”

She did her best to nod again while he bent her legs upwards until her heels touched her naked ass. She sobbed once more, but it was a controlled, dry sound. “They pay you, but you do it for pleasure. Don’t you? I should have realized it before, but you tricked me. You were so fucking good ... you are worse than them. You are just more in control of yourself, less brutal but even more ...”

“... sadistic?” Carl chuckled a little as he strapped her ankles, then her knees. He took another belt and connected the bondage at her feet to her tied hands, hogtieing Irina tightly. Her small toes curled a little and again she twitched weakly as if to state a silent protest about what he did to her.

“Yes, I am a sadist. I can understand these men and their behaviour – I might have become like them, if I was as stinking rich as they are. But I am quite content with my position as it is. Frankly, I enjoy my job. They fucked you quite thorough, didn’t they?”

“Yes...” Irina only whispered that, each of her bodys muscles screaming in pain from the tension he had just put them under. “They raped me, you fucking asshole.”



“There will be much more of that. I sometimes get to see the videos. I sometimes even take part in it, but mostly I just enjoy to know where you are and what you do. Or what is done to you. Open your mouth.”

She did so, after a moment of hesitation. She couldn’t do anything else. Fighting, screaming, trashing in her bondage ... she knew he wouldn’t allow that, not for more than a second. He put the gag back in her mouth again, strapping it tighter than it had been before. He took the hood from the bed.

“You may hope that you’ll suffocate in the box. Trust me, you won’t. You may also hope you’ll find a chance to escape later, maybe seduce one of them. You won’t. I have witnessed quite a lot of girls disappear like you’ll disappear today. They don’t show up again.”

Having said that he pulled the hood over Irinas head again and laced it tight. She couldn’t hold her urine any longer when he did it, staining the mattress and herself when her bladder emptied itself. She started trashing now, even though she knew it wouldn’t help her the slightest bit. She gargled into her gag, screamed into the hood, sobbed and squirmed as he lifted her and put her into the crate. Carl enjoyed it immensely, seeing that she was a human being after all, that she would not be able to stay sane forever.

“It’s what I enjoy most”, he whispered, as he strapped his helpless prisoner into the crate so that she would not be able to move even a bit. She would just be another piece of luggage to be transported out of the hotel. And later she would just be one more faceless prisoner in a deep, warm, dark place only he and a few others knew about.

“Meeting you when you are so proud, so self-controlled, so free and modern. And seeing what you become later. It’s the best job a guy like me could ever dream of.”

He closed the lid and locked the box. After that he cleaned the room as much as possible. And then he called the hotel manager to arrange the transport. Part 1