Programed	Back to D	Back to main page

Collected by Djian

This story is for GROWNUPS ONLY. If it's illegal for you to read this,
kindly go elsewhere.

PROGRAMED



Chapter One

"Whew, done."
Keri looked at the rusting little car. It had cost an absurd amount of money, money she hoped she'd be able to get back when she sold it, hopefully in the next week or two. For now, it held all her worldly possessions, everything she was, she thought a little sourly.
She glanced up at the bleak face of the old Victorian which had been her home for the past year. It was a boarding house she had selected for location and economy, not looks or pleasure. And it had not been a pleasure. The place was icy in winter and roasting in summer, with numerous bugs and unpleasant, unwashed neighbours to keep her company whenever she was home.
Not that she had been home much. She'd worked long hours as a waitress at a London restaurant in order to make enough to go to university. Now she thought she had enough - barely - and was off to get the all-important degree which would allow her into a life of value and rewards. Not for her, the continued grubby existence of her friends who had grown up in the same shabby neighbourhood and gone to the same crime-infested schools.
Not that there hadn't been offers of other ways out, other routes to riches. Her friend Claudia had become a stripper, and tried to persuade Keri to join her. "With your looks you'll make a ton of money far faster than that grubby hostessing job," she'd claimed.
Which had no-doubt been true, but the thought of taking off her clothes in some dark, grubby club, and grinding her body over drunken, middle-aged men had revolted her.
Sex was always a path for girls like her, if not stripping then prostitution, and others of her friends had taken that route. Most, however, were on welfare, and would probably stay that way. Half of them were already pregnant or single mothers, doomed to repeat the same miserable lives as their mothers before them.
But not Keri. Keri was getting out, through hard work and intelligence. She'd come back to the neighbourhood someday - in a Jaguar, wearing silk clothes and leather boots.
She wedged herself into the front seat, giving a push to bags containing skirts and tops, and started the engine - not without difficulty, before pulling away and heading for the motorway.

"Shit."
Keri's eyes glanced away from the rear view mirror and its unhappy view of the flashing police lights behind her to her dashboard where the speedometer showed she was currently exceeding the speed limit by little more than five kilometers per hour. She felt a wave of indignation as she pulled the little Geo over to the side and fished out her identification. Everyone drove at least ten kilometers over the speed limit! You had to or you'd be blocking traffic! But no doubt his fascist storm trooper had a quota to uphold and so was going to get picky with her. Just what she needed on her limited budget; a bloody speeding ticket!
The panda pulled over in front of her and two large men got out, walking purposefully back to her, their faces shaded by the brims of their caps in the darkening late evening light.
Keri lowered her window and restrained her instinct to snap at the man, hoping to play the helpless female instead and thus elicit sympathy. Men generally liked to do things for her, after all, generally wanted to be nice to her. But she was silenced before she could begin.
"Your license and registration, miss," the stern voice demanded.
She handed them over. "I didn't believe I was going very fast," she said hopefully. "This car can't really go very fast," she added with a smile.
"You are Kerilyn Saunders," the man said.
Of course, she wanted to snap.
"Yes," she said.
"And where are you going to in such a hurry, Miss Saunders, and with your vehicle packed to the roof with luggage?"
"It's not - luggage," she said, "It's just - stuff. I'm going to school, to university, you see. This is my uhm, stuff. I'm starting at Durham next week. I'm going to be taking law," she said hopefully.
"I believe your vehicle may be overloaded," he said. "Please step out of the car."
Now Keri felt slightly less sure of herself. It was true the little car was jammed from floor to roof with nearly everything she possessed. Then again, that wasn't really all that much. She'd been working for three years to save enough for tuition, living as frugally as possible in a small boarding house in south London.
She stepped out of the car, noting the second constable had now moved around to the side of the car.
"This way, please, miss," he said, taking her wrist and leading her forward to their car.
Keri went along with him as the first office wrote something on a clipboard and bent over her car, looking inside.
The constable with her opened the rear door of the car.
"Inside, please."
"But - why?"
"Standard procedure, miss. For your own safety."
Keri sighed and sat in the car as the other constable returned.
The second one bent in over her, taking her wrists. "Hands in your lap, please, miss," he said, pulling them firmly together.
"What? But I don't - what are you doing!?"
"Standard procedure, miss," he said.
"We're going to have to place you under arrest, Miss Saunders," the second man said, leaning in beside him. "There is a warrant out on your vehicle for multiple parking and speeding infractions."
Keri's attention was distracted, her head snapping around towards him. "What!? That's not possible!"
Her attention was rapidly diverted again when she sensed the cold metal sliding around her wrists. She jerked her head around to see that her right wrist and, almost immediately, as she watched, her left, were now handcuffed together in her lap. And now the constable was pulling her wrists forward to the edge of the seat between her lap and fixing the handcuffs in place to a ring there.
"I'm sure we can straighten it out at the station, miss," the man said, drawing, back.
The two men got into the front seats and the car started off with a sudden acceleration that pressed her back hard in her seat, pulling her wrists against the hard metal surrounding them.
She was aghast, indignant, shocked, and still trying to muster her arguments, to make a plea. It had all happened so fast! One minute she was driving along, the next handcuffed in the back of the police car, staring through the metal screen at the backs of their heads. The next she was being taken away - to where she could only guess.
"What about my car?" she demanded.
Neither turned around, but the one on the passenger side spoke. "It'll be taken care of. Don't you worry, miss."
Keri looked out the window, seeing little. It was getting darker, and they had turned off the motorway. She had no idea where they were. She'd been well past York when they pulled her over, so she was certainly into Scotland now, but she knew little of the towns along the way where a police station might be located.
"Where and when did I get these tickets?" she asked.
"No talking, please," one of them said gruffly. "You can speak to the sergeant when we get there."
Keri bit her lip on an angry retort, trying to settle into her seat as comfortably as she could given her wrists were held up forward at the edge of the seat.
Ten minutes passed in silence, then another ten, and she began fretting, looking around her, trying to see some sign of where they were headed. All she could make out were the lights of houses they passed occasionally. They appeared to be on a country rode, with little sign of a city or town in the area.
"How far away is this police station?" she demanded. "Is my car going to be all right where it is?"
"Don't worry, miss. Your vehicle has already been moved," the constable on the passenger side said.
"To where?"
"Somewhere safe. We'll be at the station very soon. You can ask questions there."
Keri settled back uneasily as another ten minutes passed. She was just beginning to get somewhat nervous when the car turned into a small opening between gate posts and into the rear of a brick building of some sort, and stopped. There was no light overhead. The only light to see by came through two windows in the building before them.
The two constables got out, and her door was opened. The man who had been driving unfastened the handcuffs from the ring seat into the front side of the seat, then helped her out. The second constable took her other arm as she stood up, looking around her.
They were in a kind of industrial courtyard, a small one, with stone walls on three sides. Two cars were parked against one wall, and there was a large trash bin placed against the near wall. There was nothing but trees and scrub brush on the other side of the road she could see through the open gateway as the two constables led her to a narrow wooden door.
The corridor inside was lit by bare bulbs overhead. It was narrow, and lined by white painted concrete blocks on both sides. The floor was of gray concrete. Pipes, wires, and air conduits covered the roof. There was only room for two to walk abreast. The first constable, holding her arm firmly, led her up the corridor and around a narrow corridor to a counter. A sour faced, balding man wearing a gray shirt sat behind it, and rose when they entered.
"Saunders, Kerilyn, number twenty three," the constable said.
The man looked her up and down rudely, then turned. "Got another one," he said to someone unseen.
There was a door to the right, and it opened seconds later. Keri gasped as the constable pushed her forward into the arms of - of two enormous men.
"What - ."
"No talking!" a voice growled harshly.
They were both well over six feet tall and very heavily built. They were wearing militaristic looking black jumpsuits with heavy black boots and gloves. They also wore black helmets much like motorcycle helmets, with the visors down.
The two men seized her, one to each arm, and pulled her roughly through the door. She found herself in a square stone room, the walls again of stone blocks, here painted yellow, the floor the same gray poured cement. There was an open door on her left, and the sour faced man from behind the counter leaned against the doorframe. Another door on her right was closed. The room contained a large square wooden table, a corner shower, and a metal cabinet.
"Strip," one of the men said.
"What? They said I had parking infractions and - ."
"Get your clothes off," the voice growled. "You need to be searched for drugs or weapons."
"But I don't - ."
One of them grasped her long blonde hair and yanked back harshly. Keri screamed in pain and confusion as she was whirled around and shoved face-first into the stone wall
"You don't get a choice about when or whether to cooperate," one of the men said.
"Don't! Oww! Fuck! What are you doing!" she cried.
Her cuffed wrists were forced up above her head and jammed hard against the stone, then held there was the men undid her belt and opened her trousers, then yanked them down, along with her panties, to her ankles.
"Stop it! Don't! Please!" she cried desperately.
They ignored her, and her blouse was yanked up just as quickly, and lifted over her head as she struggled to break free.
A sharp jab to the side of her ribs made her cry out in pain as she was whirled away from the wall and slammed, face down across the edge of the table. Her trousers and panties were yanked off so hard her shoes went flying. Then the two large men held her arms and undid the handcuffs long enough to pull off her blouse and bra.
Keri was in shock, unable to believe what was being done to her, in pain and fear, mortified as the two men briskly stripped her naked while the third looked on.
Heavy boots kicked her ankles far apart while powerful hands held her body pressed against the table. She felt gloved fingers at her sex and cried out again, her hips bucking instinctively, fearfully, as she sought to escape. But the iron grip of the hands holding her down only pressed more firmly.
The lips of her sex were torn open painfully, and she cried out again, overcome by fear and pain, humiliated and stunned by their brutality. A thick finger pushed into her, driving in harshly, brutally, twisting around inside her soft, tender depths.
Then to her horror she felt another at her anus, twisting and pushing, forcing the wrinkled little opening to admit it, and a second source of pain stabbed through her stumbling, bewildered thinking.
"Oww! Please! Don't! Oh! Oww! No! Don't!"
They ignored her, as the fingers pushed inside her, then withdrew.
Instantly, her wrists were forced together again and handcuffed. Then she was yanked up off the table. She saw the sour faced man still leaning against the doorway, grinning now, his eyes roaming her nude body freely as she was half dragged, half marched to the corner and the shower head there.
Her wrists were lifted up, and attached to a hook dangling from a chain overhead, then one of the men turned on the shower head, then lifted it off its hook, holding the hose out.
Icy water gushed out and Keri screamed again, twisting and turning, trying to escape both the painful water pressure which sent water lancing stingingly against her tender skin, and the icy cold which had her gasping for breath.
"Stop it! Fuck! You fucking bastards!" she screeched.
The water hit her in the face, and would have thrown her off her feet were it not for her arms locked overhead. Her head was thrown back and she lost her balance, and cried out in pain at the pressure against her wrists.
The water stopped, leaving her dripping, naked, soaked, freezing, gasping for breath. The men moved in against her, their gloved hands holding soap and some kind of rough scrub brushes. They began to soap her up quickly and harshly, starting with her face, so that she had to shut her eyes against the stinging soap.

"What are you doing! Please!" she half sobbed. "Don't! Let me alone!"
The harsh hands ignored her, scrubbing over her full young breasts, the coarse brush scraping painfully over her stiff, tender nipples, then between her legs.
It was so fast, so harsh, so brutal, that her mind still had not begun to cope. And then the water was pouring over her again, throwing her back on her heels as it pummeled her skin and face froze her to the marrow of her bones.
Gasping, panting for breath, she opened her eyes as her wrists were pulled down. Again she was thrust face-first into the wall. Her wrists were lifted up, one hand uncuffed, then drawn back behind her back and cuffed together once more.
Now the two faceless men took an arm each and marched the bedraggled, dripping, frozen, gasping young girl to the other door. It slid aside, and they marched through. The corridor here was much wider, able to take all three of them abreast. There were steel doors on either side of the corridor, with small, closed and locked grilles in the centre of each of them.
She was a slim, short woman, with a delicately built face. It occurred to her to wonder why the two large men had to hold so firmly to her arms as they led her along between them. Even one of them was more than twice her weight. Both were over a foot taller.
They stopped, and one of the doors was pulled open, its rusted hinges screaming. There was nothing inside but a dark stone room not much bigger than a closet. One of the guards pointed to a hole, an open drain in the corner.
"Your toilet. Use it," he said coldly.
Then she was flung forward, hitting the wall across from the door, and rebounding off. By then the door had slammed shut, and she heard the heavy bolt being driven into place.
Keri, dazed, shivering, not at all understanding, sank to her knees on the stone floor, weeping softly.
She knelt in the darkness for some time, then found a corner, the one farthest from the foul-smelling "toilet" and sat down with a groan. It was cold in the cell, and pitch black, of course. She could hardly credit that this was a real police facility, but perhaps something else explained the brutality, the cold, even brutal way she had been treated. Did they think she was someone else? A terrorist, perhaps?
If she could only talk to someone, let them know who she was!
She moaned softly, miserably, laying her head back against the cold stone.




Chapter Two


Erin flicked a stray lock of coppery red hair back from her forehead and arched her brow seductively. Yes, she looked good, she looked smashing. She had confidence in her looks. If little else.
The offer was too good to resist, though. The Japanese had a fascination with blondes, and even more with redheads. All she had to do, she'd been told, was act as a hostess. She'd researched western hostesses on the internet. She knew they didn't have to actually do anything with the businessmen they sat with, smiled at and entertained. She just had to smile and be nice, and she'd earn a fortune in the upscale Tokyo club. She could sing a little, as well, and she was sure they'd find her Irish ballads fascinating.
Thin silk dresses hugging her lovely frame, squeezing in against her lovely bottom, a push up bra lifting her already more than ample breasts, and a little smiling, and she'd make more in a year than she could in Belfast in five or six. Perhaps she could start a little pub then and sing in it.
She tossed her head, grinning at her image. She was a lovely girl with a friendly, open face. Her eyes were green, her lips sensual, and the long loops and ringlets of red hair spilling down around her face and over her shoulders framed it perfectly. She could have been an Irish queen, she thought, or a Viking woman. She was sure the Japanese would find her more interesting than the plastic blondes they saw so much of.
She heard a car honking and glanced out the window. There was the cab they said they'd send for her. She yanked on her jacket and grabbed her suitcases, then hurried out to meet the driver, who was already opening the trunk.

There was a loud metallic sound and light streamed into the room from the metal grille. Keri blinked her eyes against it, staring up at the door.
"Kneel in the centre of the room," a cold, antiseptic male voice ordered.
She stared at it the grille, and the face behind it.
"Now!" his booming voice ordered.
Keri gasped and fell forward onto her knees, then shuffled awkwardly to kneel in front of the door.
"Back straight. Knees apart!" the voice said coldly, emotionless.
Almost reflexively the frightened young woman obeyed, blushing as she realized how exposed she was. But she had been in the cell for hours, and she was desperate to see someone, to communicate with them, to let them know she was no criminal, no terrorist, no - .
The door opened and she saw one of the tall, black uniformed men there, or perhaps another just like them. Again, the visor on his helmet was down, and so he was faceless. He wore heavy black leather across his broad chest and shoulders, and thick, knee high black boots.
He walked forward a pace, then squatted and dropped a tin tray of something onto the floor, setting a tin bowl of water next to it before rising.
"Your breakfast," he said.
"Wait!"
The door slammed closed and the bolt was shot.
"I want to see someone!" Keri cried. "I want to talk to a lawyer!"
But there was nothing but silence. She moaned and sank back on her heels, shoulders slumping. Breakfast? Had she been in here all night? Did that mean she would see a magistrate now? She was not hungry, but she did manage to bend far over and find the tin bowl of water, gulping down several mouthfuls before easing back into the corner again.
Was this what jails and prisons were like!? This was her first experience, but she had thought they were considerably more - comfortable. Was this a special prison? For what reasons? What did they think she had done!?

"Hello?"
Hannah looked around the small office, then leaned across the counter, trying to see into the room beyond. She glanced at her watch. It was the right time, the time the man had told her to arrive. She'd dropped her resume off all across town, and gotten a few interviews. This was the first of those who had called her back.
It had seemed like a lark to her, at first, to leave her home in Plymouth, in the far south of England, and travel the country. And at first she'd had a great time. But despite the many friends she'd met who had helped her out - mainly men - her funds had just about run out, and getting jobs was becoming more difficult the further north she traveled. The economy wasn't in the greatest of health here, and she was getting very strapped for cash.
But she was a pleasant looking young woman, with glossy brown hair, a mischievous smile, and a slender, but well-formed body which inevitably drew male attention. A little posing and smiling had always worked wonders in getting her brief jobs or letting her flop at strangers' flats for a day or two. She was not unduly worried.
"Is anyone here?" she called.
There was still no answer. The door to the right of the counter was open. She walked hesitantly through it, then into the office area behind the counter. The lights and machines were on. Where was everyone? Not that the place had been crowded her first interview. But there had been a pair of men here.
Then the outer door opened, and to her surprise a pair of policemen came through.
"Stay where you are, miss," one warned, coming around the counter.
Hannah looked behind her, then back at them. "What?"
"You're under arrest."
"What?! What are you talking about? What for!?"
But the two already had her hands in cuffs.
"Where is your boss?" one asked, looking around.
"I don't work here!" she said.
"Of course not," one said.
"No, honestly! I just came for a- a job interview."
"Come with us, miss."
"But I told you I don't work here!"
They ignored her, leading her back outside to the small, dank parking lot, and then placed her in the rear of a police car.

"Kneel in the centre of the room," a clipped, mechanical male voice ordered.
"Sod off!" Erin shouted, glaring fiercely at the barred window. "Let me out of here, you bleeding sons of bitches!"
The bolt was pulled back and the door opened. Her eyes teared from the bright light, and she squinted as against it as two helmeted, faceless men in black came in.
"I want to see a bleeding lawyer!"
She screamed then as one of the men touched her with what she first took to be a baton. The shock it delivered drove her back into the wall.
"Kneel in the center of the room!" the voice repeated, cool, cold and toneless.
"I-I - but I wa - ."
Now the two men thrust out at her with their batons. One hit her left breast, the other her belly. She screamed again as painful electrical shocks tore through her body.
But the men did not stop with that. Their batons rose and fell, rose and fell, touching her again and again, each time delivering an electrical shock that made her cry out, sent her body violently jerking and spasming. She was laying flat out on the floor, and one had a boot on her belly as he jabbed the baton into her thigh. The other stepped on her arm as he thrust his down against the side of her neck.
She screamed and jerked and twisted and thrashed in maddened pain.
A boot shifted onto her thigh, another onto her other thigh, and the shock stick pressed against her sex. Her hips bucked violently, jerking and twisting in desperation as she screamed in agony.
They eased back together.
"Kneel in the middle of the floor!" a voice said calmly.
Whimpering, panting, sobbing, the shaken girl tried to sit up, only to have a harsh hand grip her thick red hair and yank her violently up and forward. She screamed in pain again, then once more as her head was yanked up and back. She was forced onto her knees, forced to sit back on her heels, to spread her legs wide.
Only then did the men release her, standing back, staring down at her through their visored helmets as she trembled and shook and gulped in air.
"Back straight."
She jerked as if struck, forcing her back straighter.
"Head back."
Again Erin obeyed, chest heaving.
The helmeted men drew back, then one came in again, and, just as he had the previous three times, placed a tin of food and a tin of water on the floor before her. Then he withdrew and the metal door slammed shut, the bolts going.
Sobbing, Erin sank back, moaning, her body still twitching and jerking at the remembered pain.

Keri huddled in her dark cell. She heard the shouts, the screams. She knew what they were, knew what caused them. She had dared refuse the other day, and she could still feel the shock as the faceless, helmeted men jabbed her with their steel-tipped batons, as she had writhed on the floor, screaming, and the shocks had rained down upon her until she thought they would never stop.
She had only demanded a lawyer, refused to obey without one. Even then she had feared, in the back of her mind, that they were not real police, that this was not a real police station. But after that she was - almost - convinced - that she had been captured by - by someone else. But why!? What did they plan on doing with her?
Aside from the obvious, of course. Rape had been an ever-present threat since she'd become aware of her own female attractiveness and the lust men had for her. That was long years ago. She'd had to wrestle free of men since then, but - but if that were it why not do it? Why hadn't they raped her already and then cast her out?!

Lisa slouched in the back of the police car, giving the constables in front her best attitude. They didn't scare her, not in the least. She'd been to jail before, been in youth detention facilities before that. She was tough, and knew it. And she'd have friends on the inside, people who knew her Birmingham gang. She'd serve a year, at best, for her part in the savage beating of a man from a rival street gang. All she'd done is watch, after all, and offer up a few choice bits of advice to those kicking and bashing him.
Lisa was spoiled. That was no easy thing for a poor girl born to a prostitute mother. But her father had been white, so she was something of a mixed breed, with her skin a light coffee and her features narrower, her cheekbones high, her hair long and silky raven black. She'd been much south-after by the neighborhood boys, for both her face and body.
She was Rodney's girl, because Rodney had the power to intimidate anyone else, because Rodney was the gang leader - or had been before dying in a police chase. But that was all right. Lisa was a mercenary girl and she'd find another powerful male to look after her as soon as she got out of prison.
The car stopped and she looked around the dark, empty lot with a nearly perpetual sneer on her pretty face. There was another police car there, and the two men in it got out to meet the ones in her own. She slouched even lower, letting them all know she couldn't care less.
The door opened, and male hands reached in, taking her arm.
"Let's go, princess," a voice said.
"Get your hands off me, bastard!" she snapped.
They ignored her, and she was marched over to the other panda. The first one drove off, and the large policemen thrust her into the rear of the second.
"What is this? What the bloody hell are you bastards up to?" she demanded.
She'd spent a lot of time in the system, after all, and was suspicious of any break in routine.
The two men ignored her, cuffing her wrists in front of her to a ring set in the front part of the seat. That too was unusual, and she glowered at them as they shut the door and got in the front.
"If you try anything funny I'll have my lawyer on your arses!" she snapped.
"Shut up, bitch," one growled.
"You can kiss my black arse!"
"Maybe you'll be doing the same in return," he replied.
The other one laughed.

Hannah gasped at the shouts from outside her cell. She heard a girl's voice cursing and yelling, then screaming. It sounded like a black girl's voice, and she heard her snarls change to howls before the steel bolts drew back and then the door slammed closed on her.
Then there was silence, terrible silence as she huddled there in the darkness, gasping, heart beating. Suddenly something metallic rapped on her door.
"Knees," the male voice said calmly.
Hannah quickly knelt as she'd been taught, knees apart, back straight, head up, eyes straight, heart pounding even louder, for this was surely not her normal dinner time. It was very hard to keep track of time in here, and she really had no idea how many days she'd been locked in, but she had only been fed a short time earlier.
The slot in the door opened and light came through, then a face obscured the grille, looking in at her. The slot closed and the bolt was withdrawn. The door opened and light streamed in. Her eyes squinted against the brightness as the two helmeted figures marched in.
"Stand," one ordered.
She stood awkwardly, shakily. Each man took an arm and led her out of the cell. Her head was lower than their shoulders as they bracketed the naked girl and led her up the corridor. She could see nothing of their faces, nor indeed any inch of bare flesh. Their heavy leather suits covered them completely. They wore thick leather gloves, and even in the brighter light of the corridor their darkly tinted visors kept their faces invisible.
Where were they taking her? Was it to be washed again, she wondered anxiously. That had happened twice already.
Yes, they turned into that room where another helmeted man waited and released her arms.
"Kneel."
She knelt, adjusting her position quickly, sitting on her heels, back straight, face flushing a little as she faced the new faceless, visored man. The other two stood behind, and she felt very small and very helpless as the three faceless men bracketed her.
"Your name?" the one in front asked in a brusque, bureaucratic voice.
"Hannah Miller," she said, her voice quivering as she tried to stare straight ahead as she'd been taught.
"And you are?"
"Prisoner number eight, two seven five nine," she replied, her back crawling as she felt the nearness of the other two and their shock sticks behind her.
The man made a notation on some form on a clipboard, and nodded to the other two.
Hannah felt their gloved fingers on her arms lifting her to her feet and marching her to the corner. As before, the cuffs were removed from her wrist, her arms were lifted above her, and her wrists were cuffed again. The hook was slipped in beneath the chain holding the two cuffs, and, standing upright, she braced herself for the freezing water.
It hit, with just as much pressure as the first few times, and she sputtered and gasped and moaned as it spun her around, icy needles raining across the skin of her back and buttocks, then her breasts and belly and face. The water was shut off, and the men moved in with their soap and scrub brushes. She endured it, wincing, gasping, moaning in pain as the rough brushes rasped across her skin.
Then came the water again, soaking her, freezing her, battering her until she was dazed. They let her down and cuffed her wrists together behind her. She felt a terrible urge to speak, to plead with them, to beg them to tell her why she was there, what she had done, what they wanted. She knew that any speech other than replying to a question would draw punishment, but it was a deep human need to communicate, especially in a situation like this.
"Please," she said, "Can't you tell me what I've done and - ."
Her hair was yanked back sharply, and she felt the shock stick thrusting in between her legs. She felt a shock of understanding, of disbelief, before the electrical shock ripped through her. She screamed, her legs jerking, flying apart. The grip on her hair tightened, forcing her head almost upside down as the shock sticks hit her again and again and again. Her legs dropped her, and then the shock sticks descended as she screamed and begged and thrashed on the floor.
Each stick touched her for only a second, delivering a shuddering jolt of power through her nervous system, but they touched her repeatedly, jabbing down all along her body.
Finally, she lay quivering and twitching on the floor, hardly able to speak, her jaw slack. Her legs were forced open, heavy booted feet pressed down cruelly on her slender thighs to pin them in place. She was only peripherally aware of the man kneeling there, of the touch of the shock stick as it pressed against her sex. Then it pierced her, penetrated her, slid up into her belly.
"You will not speak except when spoken to," the man's voice said in an almost bored tone. "Never speak without being spoken to. Never."
The shock was inside her now, deep in her belly, and it didn't end. Her hips bucked violently, her head thrashing wildly from side to side. Convulsions wracked her body as she screamed, her voice going on and on, warbling, rising and quivering as the electricity ripped through her. Her mind was spun about and shattered as she shrieked and screamed in animal pain, every muscle spasming, nerve endings burning out.
Drool slipped over her lip as, eyes glassy, they dragged her body back to her cell. Her legs and knees dragged along the stone floor, but she wasn't aware of it. Her head hung low as the door was opened, and they dragged her in and threw her down, then slammed the door behind her.

"Wha-what are you doing?" Keri asked timidly.
The shock stick thrust up between her legs and she screamed as a jolt of electricity ripped into her.
"No speaking!" the towering, faceless man said absently.
She was being bent back across a rounded frame of some sort, and already her wrists were cuffed behind her. Her back ached, and her head was laying almost upside down, on the rear of the rounded, barrel-shaped frame. She felt her legs being spread and strapped down, and whimpered in fear.
She felt something touching her between her legs, and then a machine-like buzzing which she soon recognized as a razor. It moved over her groin, shaving her. It didn't take long. Then she felt something else, a jolt of heat and a metal touching her skin. Then another, and another, and another. She could hear a metallic clicking sound, a machine sound, but didn't recognize it.
The little burns moved over her skin, down her legs, and back up, then up under her arms, into her armpits. An hour passed, and her back felt ready to snap. She moaned weakly, not understanding what they were doing to her, not understanding any of it. She didn't know how many days and nights she'd spent on the cold floor naked and cuffed, or what they wanted with her, or when they would let her go. And dared not ask.
Then she felt a sharp, stabbing pain between her legs. She screamed, pulling against the cuffs and straps, but the pain eased very quickly, even as her eyes filled with tears.
"Please," she whimpered.
Another shock hit her between the breasts and she screamed in pain.
"No talking."



Chapter Three

Ronald stroked his chin uncertainly. "You want to start now? I'm not sure the black girl has been here long enough."
Jack smiled and shook his head. "She's been here long enough to know what's what. Believe me, her kind knows to do what they're told. The others might keep thinking they can talk nice to us and get it all sorted out but she'll know what's what by now."
"Bring the first one in and we'll start," Gary said.
Erin scrambled to kneel properly as the men came for her. They lifted her up and walked her down the hall to what she had come to think of as the shower room. There was no opportunity to flee, as they kept her arms in a tight grip the entire way. There she was given another of their painful, freezing showers, and endured it.
But her eyes widened as she realized she was being taken out another door, marched up a different corridor. Then it was through a metal door and - into another world. The air here was warm, the walls covered in soft, dark wood. The floor beneath her feet was under a heavy layer of soft blue carpet. Music played somewhere in the background.
She was hungry, had been hungry for - for a long time. Eating the horrible, foul tasting stuff they shoved beneath her every day kept her alive, barely, but she could hardly keep it down. Now she smelled something delicious, the aroma a strange mixture of coffee and bacon and eggs.
The two men led her into a wide, low ceilinged room. Like the corridor, the room was softly lit, and the walls were of dark wood. The floor was highly polished, most of it covered by a thick blue rug. She was made to kneel, still dripping water, on the floor just beside the carpet, and another visored, helmeted man entered and stood before her.
"Your name?"
"Erin Donaugh, sir," she said, eyes and back straight. "Prisoner number eight, two seven six one."
He looked at her for long seconds, then at a clipboard.
"You are being given the opportunity at this time to move to this part of the facility. Have you learned to obey orders instantly and fully?"
Erin's heart pounded. "Yes, sir," she said.
"And you will continue to obey all orders instantly and fully?" he demanded.
"Yes, sir," she promised.
He nodded at one of the men standing behind her, and the man knelt and undid the handcuffs, for the first time, removing both from her wrists.
"Any disobedience to orders, any hesitation in carrying them out, and you will return to your cell for a further month of conditioning. Is that clear, prisoner eight two seven six one?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Place your hands on your outer thighs."
Erin obeyed at once.
"Now place them behind your neck and arch your back."
Again Erin complied, swallowing nervously, for aside from the shock sticks which had sometimes jabbed her between the legs and on the breasts this was the first obviously sexual thing she had encountered.
"Now I want you on all fours," he said.
Flushing, she fell forward onto her hands and knelt before him anxiously, staring down at the edge of the carpet below her, just beyond her fingers.
"Crawl forward a few paces so you are fully on the rug."
Erin obeyed, glad of the soft rug under her knees, and very conscious of the three men watching her. She felt her face heating, for even while she had been nude and exposed to them for some days it had almost assumed a clinical air, as if they had no sexual interest in her. Now things were clearly changing.
The man stepped forward, and the long, thin shock stick came down on Erin's back, lightly tracing her spine.
"Keep your bottom high," he ordered.
Erin stiffened, raising her backside more. She felt the thin stick slide down between her buttocks and saw lightly across her bare sex. She had no hair there now. She had known that, though she could not touch herself with her own hands, had known that some kind of metal thing hung from her clitoris, had lived with the ache for days.
Now, as she knelt on all fours, bottom raised tremulously high, she could feel its weight dangling, swinging lightly, pulling at her clit, could feel whatever was there being pressed by the tip of the shock stick.
The man withdrew his stick and walked backwards across the blue rug.
"Come," he ordered.
Erin knew somehow that she had to remain on all fours, and so she crawled forward across the floor until she was at his feet. There was a low, highly polished table there, and on it were several round metal objects. The most obvious of them was a large, thick collar.
"Kneel," he ordered.
Erin knelt, spreading her knees, putting her hands on her outer thighs.
"Do you see these?" he asked, pointing his stick at them.
"Yes, sir," she said anxiously.
He tapped the collar with the stick. "Pick up the collar."
Erin leaned forward and did so. The collar, like the others, was made of some very dark metal. It was a good three inches thick, with a rubber or leather undercoating. It had a very large ring in the front, and smaller rings set on the sides and rear. There was an opening on one side with a small key thrust into a keyhole indicating that it could be locked.
"Place it around your neck."
Erin barely hesitated, bringing the collar up to her throat, and pulling it open before slipping her throat through it. She glanced up timidly, then closed the collar, the tongues slipping into the small holes and snapping in place.
"Turn the key. Lock the collar."
Erin obeyed again and saw the man extend his hand. She pulled the key free and handed it to him.
"Now this one," he said, tapping a long, tube of metal with his stick.
Erin picked that one up. It was similar to the collar save much narrower and longer. It was clearly designed as a bracelet, she thought, though it was a good six inches wide. She slipped it around her wrist and closed it, then withdrew the key and handed it to him.
"Continue," he said.
She locked the second bracelet around her other wrist and gave him the key, then picked up the third. She looked up at him for confirmation, but of course, his face was hidden and he said nothing. She shifted her position enough to draw her ankle out, and slipped the metal and leather tube around it, locked it, and handed him the key.
As she did her eyes glanced over whatever it was hanging from her clit. She saw that it was a tag of some kind, a silver tag with numbers on it, resembling a dog tag, she thought, as she turned her eyes away. She placed the final metal device, tube, or restraint - whatever it was, on her other ankle, locked it, and handed him the key.
Now there was only one object on the table: a leash. She looked at it for a long, quavering moment, then took it down, hooked it to the front of her collar, and handed him the leash. He took it, and then yanked so that she was jerked forward onto her hands and knees.
"Heel," he said, turning and walking along the edge of the rug.
Erin, dazed, crawled alongside him, doing her best to keep up. He turned at the corner of the rug, and she turned with him, now facing the two men who stood with their backs against the rear wall. She crawled to the corner nearest them, and turned again, following the man holding the leash.
Her leash.
After making a complete circuit of the room they stopped.
"Kneel," he ordered.
Erin knelt as she had learned, sitting on her heels, knees spread wide.
"Arch your back."
Erin arched her back, drawing her head back, placing her hands behind her neck.
"Further."
Erin obeyed, thrusting her chest out anxiously, face flushing. She winced as the tip of his shock stick circled her right breast, then pressed against her nipple, rubbing and turning there, grinding against the small pink button.
Now she knelt with the metal collar and bracelets on her body and waited for his next order.
"Do you know what it means to be punished, Prisoner number eight, two seven six one?" he asked.
Erin felt a thrill of fear run down her spine.
"Y-Yes, sir!" she said, her voice quivering.
"I'm not at all convinced. When you start with us and you disobey, or fail to perform an assigned duty to our satisfaction, if you hesitate, or speak without permission, if we have any reason to feel dissatisfied with you, your punishment will be quite severe. Thus we find it only reasonable to give you an example of the lowest form of punishment you might expect from this point on."
The other two visored men were moving as he spoke, placing a strange wooden object on the floor next to Erin. It consisted of a pair of legs angling outward, a crosspiece at waist height, about a foot wide, and then a board with two holes in it angled forward to where the back legs reached its top.
"Stand, Prisoner number eight, two seven six one."
Her legs were already getting shaky, but Erin stood, staring at the device.
"Place your belly against the vertical bar, and your breasts into the holes."
Another shock rippled through Erin's body, but she obeyed regardless, leaning forward to press her chest down against the angled board, her breasts against the holes. Of course, the holes were not big enough, so her breasts merely pillowed out against them.
The visored man, the man who had been speaking, gripped her right breast with his gloved fingers, pinching, prodding, squeezing as he pulled it down through the hole. Another of the men did the same with her left breast, prodding and squeezing it, working it through the hole until her ribs were flat against the board and her breasts, squeezed at the base of her chest, were thrust through.
"Legs spread," the man ordered.
Erin obeyed, and felt the men fastening her ankle restraints to the legs at the bottom. Then her wrists were pulled down and locked to the back legs. One of them showed her what looked like a Y-shaped black cord with clips on all three ends, then he reached below the board and she cried out in pain as her left nipple was pinched cruelly. A moment later she felt a similar pinching against her right nipple.
She felt them pulled down and forward, and as her head extended over the edge of the board, she saw him slip the cord through a ring set in a brace running between the back legs, then draw it forward and down towards her groin. She shuddered as she felt the thing piercing her clitoris pulled forward.
The man, the one who seemed to be in charge, then produced a long, thin length of wood. It was not quite a cane, but her heart skipped a beat when he moved behind her, and she whimpered, feeling her buttocks already begin to twitch and clench.
"This is the very smallest, lightest punishment you may expect for punishment. Learn from it, Prisoner number eight, two seven six one."
He swung his arm and the meter long stick cut through the air with a hissing sound, then cracked across her buttocks with a high-pitched, meaty impact. Erin cried out at the impact, but her cry rose several octaves almost at once as the true scope of the sharp, jagged pain reached her nervous system. She screamed, her body jerking violently against the bonds.
And that produced another cry, even as she was absorbing the terrible pain, the line of fire which he had stitched across her buttocks, for her body's movement pulled her nipples against the clips biting into them, and pulled her clitoris, already sore and aching, against the same cord. And even as her shocked, pain-filled mind began to cope with this the cane was whistling down to cut across her still quivering buttocks a second time.
She screamed again, and then, her mind frantic, cried out, begged him to stop even as the fourth blow landed.
"Please! Stop it! Don't!"
He paused to let her cry of pain die out.
His voice was calm, but firm. "You were only going to get five blows. However, because you spoke without permission, you will now get twenty."
The cane sliced into her flesh a fifth time, and again rocked her forward as she cried out, her voice breaking, her eyes filling with tears, the sweat of pain now beginning to moisten her forehead and chest. The cane hissed down across her now flaming bottom again, and again, and she cried out in pain, sobbing miserably.
Again and again and again the cane cut into her burning flesh, her sobs interspersed with high-pitched cries of pain and screams of agony. Erin had never felt such pain, had never felt such fire searing through her nervous system. The blows came relentlessly, the faceless man sending the long, flexible wooden cane slashing down across her buttocks repeatedly.
The blows finally stopped, and she lay limply sobbing, moaning as the man moved to the rear of the frame and reached for the board on which she lay. He turned a knob, and the board sank down until it was horizontal. The man reached for her tangled blonde hair and curled it around his gloved fist, then lifted her head up and back so she was staring through blurred tears at his groin.
"If you displease us, Prisoner number eight, two seven six one you will be punished. If you please us you will be rewarded."
There was a zipper low on his jumpsuit, a zipper which, contrary to all others she had seen, zipped closed when down. It was lower on his groin then traditional zippers, and as he zipped it upwards his already stiff cock and balls spilled out.
He shifted his grip on her hair now, pulling it out to either side with his two hands, and guided her mouth to his stiff cock. Still whimpering and sobbing weakly, Erin did not at all resist as he pushed the broad mushroom-shaped head through her open lips and into her mouth. It tasted - oddly - of cinnamon, sugary and sweet.
It slid along her tongue towards the back of her mouth, and she moaned and choked slightly, closing her lips on it, sucking weakly.
"You will be taught how to please a man properly with your mouth," he said. "Besides eating, pleasing men is all your mouth will be used for. You will remain silent unless asked a direct question."
Erin still sobbed lightly, her bottom flaming as he twisted his fingers in her hair and began to pump his cock.
"You can do better than that," he said, his voice a growl. "If I don't think you're trying proper enthusiasm you'll get twenty more."
Fear ripped through the girl's frame, and she immediately began sucking hard on the male member in her mouth, her tongue pushing forward, licking at the head and shaft.
"That's better, but you're still an amateur. You will learn to perform flawlessly before you leave here."
His words encouraged rather than frightened Erin, for they implied she would, at least, be leaving this awful place at some point.
The man reached down and touched the frame, and the board under her chest sank further, taking her breasts - and upper torso - with it. The pull on her nipples and clit was undiminished, however, as they were hooked together through a thin ring at the very bottom of the rear of the frame. Her head came up and back further, however, as her chest angled lower, and the man held it there firmly by the hair.
"Now, Prisoner number eight, two seven six one, I am going to demonstrate to you the minimum proficiency we expect of our girls. I am going to push forward into your throat, and you are going to swallow me all the way to the testicles."
Erin jerked in shock and fear, but had little opportunity to think about what he had said as the man drove his cock steadily forward, the mushroom head choking and gagging her as it pushed into her throat. Her body jerked frantically against the restraints, and her head twisted and pulled against his hold on her head, but she could do nothing as his thick shaft slid pitilessly forward down her throat.
She choked violently, at first, but then she screamed as the cane came down across her raised bottom once again.
"You can do better than that," she heard the man saw through the roaring in her ears.
He jammed himself deeper, forcing his broad, mushroom head deeper into her throat. Erin's throat was aching savagely, her stomach fluttering and twisting as he forced her mouth up along his shaft, drawing her in by the hair, pulling her face in against his groin. Another savage blow across her bottom, however, tore her attention away from her gagging as pain howled through her body.
"Control, Prisoner number eight, two seven six one. You will learn control. As you are disciplined, so will you discipline your body."
He ground her face against his groin, crushing her nose, then slowly drew hic cock back. Just as the head popped free of her throat the cane cracked down across her bottom with searing force and she screamed miserably.



Chapter Four

Keri moaned dully, eyes glazed. The world tossed and turned around her, and sweat dripped off her body.
She was attached to a metal framework, her legs spread wide, bound tightly to metal bars, her belly down across a bar, another bar squeezing down against her back. Her arms were pulled forward and down, strapped to another pair of bars. Her nipples were stretched down and forward, clipped somehow to her clitoris, so that, like them, it ached and burned and throbbed relentlessly.
Her head was lifted up and back by the expedient of twining her long blonde hair together, and somehow binding it to a hook which had been thrust into her anal opening, hooking across her tailbone. Her jaw was thus forced open, but still the thick, long dildo they had thrust through into her mouth spread it even wider. A similar dildo was jammed deep into her pussy.
The entire frame was hanging from a hook in the ceiling of the small dark room she had been placed, slowly turning and twisting with her movements, swaying up and down as well. Her body was circled by rows of candles and the heat was making her sweat profusely. Her scalp felt as though it had a thousand little needles driven into it. Her bottom still burned from the caning she had gotten, and her nipples and clit throbbed horribly.
She had neither eaten nor drank in some long while, but she could not guess how long that had been. Her mind was numb, dazed.
One of the men - guards - things - shapeless, faceless black creatures - entered the room and reached out. The metal frame swung wildly, turning and twisting, bobbing backwards and forwards. Her head spun with it, eyes rolling and glassy.
Then it stopped, turned so she was facing it. Dark hands reached out and unhooked the thick dildo in her mouth from the strap around her head, pulling it free. She moaned weakly, and saliva drooled out behind it. Then a thick cock pushed into her mouth, driving straight down her throat.
Keri gurgled and choked and gagged weakly as her face was jammed into his groin. Then his body began to move, his hips pumping, sliding the thick warm flesh up and down her throat, back and forth over her tongue, through her lips, the hips smacking into her face again and again as he used her. Her head began to pound, her chest to burn from lack of oxygen. Black dots danced before her eyes.
He pulled back and she coughed and gagged and choked, gulping in deep, desperate breaths of air as he sent the metal frame swinging and twisting again, spinning and circling. The world swam and rolled around her. Then it stopped, and his cock thrust into her mouth once more, pushing deep into her throat.
She choked weakly as it pumped in and out.
"Swallow," the calm voice said. "Swallow. Swallow. You love this cock. You will love this cock. Lick and suck and you will avoid pain. If you do not please this cock you will have terrible pain."
Keri whimpered, the words somehow sifting through her dazed mind as the cock slid in and out.
"Suck. Suck," the voice insisted. "Suck. Love this cock. Please this cock. Worship this cock. Only by pleasuring this cock can you avoid more pain."
The cock withdrew, and she gasped and choked on saliva, gulping in air.
"Pain, terrible pain is what happens when you fail to satisfy," the cold, cool, almost inhuman voice said in a droning, toneless voice. "Only by pleasing cock can you avoid the worst pain. Only by pleasing cock will you be given any pleasure. Take this cock and love it. Worship it."
The cock was pushed back into her mouth and her she sucked weakly, moaning, her eyes glassy as the voice droned on.

"What is your name?"
Hannah felt a shock of fear the question. "Prisoner number eight, two seven five nine," she said quickly.
She knelt between the three large men, all wearing helmets with visors, knelt nude and collared, with legs spread, sex shaved and bare. She sat on her heels, her bottom still aching from the caning she had been given.
"I am going to tell you a word, Prisoner number eight, two seven five nine," one of them said. "That word is - `obey'. That is your word, Prisoner number eight, two seven five nine. Your entire purpose in life is to obey. You must turn all of your effort, all of your thinking and ability towards fulfilling that word. What is that word, Prisoner number eight, two seven five nine?"
"O-Obey, sir," Hannah gulped anxiously.
"Again."
"Obey, sir!"
"Arch your back."
Hannah brought her hands up and back, then cried out in pain as the shock stick pressed into her side."
"Faster! Obey!" the man said as she arched her back stiffly, head back, hands behind her neck.
"On your belly."
Hannah lurched forward, but not fast enough, and the shock stick hit her bottom so that she screamed again.
"Not fast enough. Obey."
Now she was on her belly, arms straight out at her sides, bottom raised high, knees spread, trembling.

There was a large mirror on the wall next to her, and behind it was a small room. Two men sat there, looking through what was a window to them, though the girl could not see them.
"Who is this?" one asked idly.
"This is..." The other man consulted a clipboard. "Hannah Miller, age twenty-three, from Plymouth. Unemployed, been doing a backpack tour of the country the last eight months, staying at hostels or flopping at houses where someone will have her, visiting pubs and discos. We scooped her two days after she arrived in Aberdeen. No one there knew her. Like the rest, she has no family, no boyfriend."
The other man watched the girl scramble across the floor, wriggling on her belly.
"Nice little arse."
"Yes, well, they all have those," the other man said with a grin. "We don't select our girls easily, as you know."
"Yes, I know it full well. But some of the membership have complained about the lack of fresh meat."
"Sir James, we need to be careful. You know the guidelines we use; girls who are alone, no families to lobby the police, girls no one will miss, and of course, girls who are strikingly beautiful. It is that care which has allowed us to operate for so long without the police having the slightest hint anything is wrong. No one will be looking for her," he said, pointing at the girl in the other room. "No one cares about her."
Sir James nodded. "I do understand. I am simply passing along their concerns. "The other girls? They are coming along?"
"Erin Donaugh, absolutely stunning Irish girl from Belfast, in London as a dancer, or trying to be at any rate. We recruited her through the Japan offer. No family, no close friends, partly because she's somewhat arrogant and vain. Large breasts too, fiery red hair, age twenty.
"You find a Black for Lord Winters?"
The second man smiled and nodded. "Yes, a half breed, daughter of a prostitute and her white customer, lovely face, perfect body. A criminal, but we know how to discipline her. Was going with a street gang leader who was killed recently. Few will miss her. No one of any importance among them. Age nineteen.
"We've also got a lovely little blonde: Kerilyn Saunders, just eighteen, on her way to Durham university. She's an orphan from East London, working as a waitress. Those who knew her will think her gone to university. Durham will simply think she never showed up. It'll be months before anyone even thinks about her."
In the room beyond them the girl knelt, her hands clasped behind her back, the three big men bracketing her, their cocks out, stiff. One pulled her mouth onto his cock and she sucked eagerly.
"Obey. Obey." the two men heard repeated through the small speaker connected to the other room.
One of the men grasped the girl's hair, yanking her mouth back from the first cock, twisting her to him and thrusting his cock into her mouth, pumping deeply into her until the third man grasped her hair and yanked her towards him.
"How long until they're ready?"
"Oh, they're coming along very well. But again, we have our standards. We've already broken them of modesty and inhibitions. Now they're being conditioned into instant obedience."
"You say you have an Irish girl?"
"Yes, big breasts, red hair."
"Her body is, I trust, nicely proportioned?"
The man leaned forward and worked the computer. Images sprang up of Erin Donaugh nude, taken from different positions.
"Lovely breasts," Sir James said softly.
"Yes, very firm and round."
"I want her trained as a pain slave."
"Of course. That is uhm, more difficult, and will take more time."
Sir James turned cold eyes upon him and the man licked his lips nervously.
"Of course, it can be done, as you know. We'll make sure any delay is minimal."

"Legs open," the man said, in the room beyond.
Hannah twisted quickly onto her back, panting for breath, raising her legs up straight together, then, holding them straight, letting them fall open to either side, grunting with the effort to keep them straight as the tendons in her thighs began to stretch and ache.
A fourth faceless man entered the room and whispered to the one who had been giving her orders. Then he glanced at her and withdrew.
"Heel," the man ordered.
Hannah leapt to obey, gasping, panting, eyes frantic as she assumed the proper position. The leash tugged and she was led, crawling, across the room, and this time, out the door and down a narrow corridor.
She heard something ahead, and as they turned into another room and she stared in surprise at the first other girl she had seen. The girl was standing in the centre of the room, naked, collared, shackled, as she was. Her wrists were locked together behind her back and lifted high into the air, thus bending her upper body forward at the waist. Her legs were apart, ankles locked by short chains to rings set in the floor. Her head hung low, face covered by a screen of red hair.
Another of the faceless black clad men was standing behind her and to one side, holding a long thin leather crop. The girl's bottom was beet red, criss-crossed with dozens of lines where the man had apparently been using the crop.
As Hannah crawled up behind the girl she saw that tubes protruded from her anal opening and pussy, both of them thick. The one sticking out of her puss had a wire attached, and Hannah could hear a low buzzing sound coming from it. She had large breasts, and Hannah recognized the Y-shaped cord which had been clipped between her own nipples and clitoris several times pulling the girl's big nipples down and in.
She watched one of the men's shock-stick rub at her clitoris, from which dangled the same silver tag as her own bore.
"Have you ever performed oral sex on a woman before, Prisoner number eight, two seven five nine?"
"No, sir," she said.
"But no doubt had have it performed on yourself."
"Yes, sir!"
"Then you know what to do."
Erin licked her lips hesitantly and the shock stick jabbed her in the ribs and shattered her with a sharp blast of pain.
"Obey."
She gasped and leaped up off her heels, plunging her face in beneath the girl's parted buttocks, ignoring any distaste she may have had for touching the genitals of another girl as she licked at the redhead's clitoris.
"Take your time in this instance, Prisoner number eight, two seven five nine. We want you to savor that lovely little clitoris, and to give pleasure to this prisoner. You can see she already has a vibrator stuffed inside her. You may make use of that, or the dildo in her anus as you please. But make sure you give her pleasure. If she doesn't climax you will be punished. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Obey."
"Yes, sir!"
The girl moaned, and now Hannah could see that she was both blindfolded and gagged. But she ignored that, staring at her pussy and anal opening, running her finger along the tight lips of her sex where they were clasped around the vibrator, then gazing at her swollen clitoris.
She drew in a deep breath, then set to work. She knew the girl's clit would ache from its piercing, as hers still did. She licked at it softly, gently, teasing it tenderly, her tongue straying often, circling the ring of flesh squeezing down around the vibrator as her fingers gently massaged the hot little button.
She could see now, that a ring pierced the girl's clit, and the tag, with numbers on it, hung from it. She licked gently, then closed her lips, taking tag and ring and then the girl's clit into her mouth, massaging it with her soft lips and moist warm tongue
Erin was no lesbian, but she was sexually experienced, and whatever mental resistance the girl standing, bending before her might have had, well, the same treatment which had robbed Erin of her own inhibitions had probably been used on her too. No one, Erin thought, had tried to do anything pleasant to her since she had arrived in this foul place. She wasn't sure how she would react if they did. This girl clearly welcomed it - or at least, her body did.
Her buttocks began pressing back into Hannah's face, against her hands, grinding, jerking, quivering.
"She is not to climax. Use the cord clipped to her nipples if you think she is about to come to pull her back. Sting, rather than hurt, tease and pull back. Do you understand, Prisoner number eight, two seven five nine?"
"Yes, sir," she gulped.
She did not understand, exactly. She understood the instructions, but not why. But why did not matter. All that mattered was that she obey. She reached for the cord and tugged sharply towards her, pulling on the girl's nipples, then more softly, tugged it down and away, pulling on her clit. She did it again, trying to measure the level of pain by the girl's muffled moans and gasps.
One of the faceless men moved to the front of the girl, but Hannah paid little attention to what he was doing as she resumed licking lightly on the girl's swollen clit. Then she heard him speak.
"Prisoner number eight, two, seven, five eight. Do you hear me?"
The girl's voice was dazed, mumbling, slurring. Hannah heard a sharp slap, and a brief cry of pain.
"Prisoner number eight two seven five eight, do you hear me?"
"Y-Yes, sir!" the girl gasped.
"You are not to climax until given permission. Do you understand, prisoner number eight two seven five eight?"
"I-I... y-yes, s-sir," Erin gasped.
"If you feel you are about to climax you must tell us. You must say you are coming. Do you understand, prisoner number eight two seven five eight?"
"Yessss," Erin groaned.
Hannah continued licking on her clit, and now took it and the ring into her mouth, sucking gently and rhythmically. Her hand moved up to the dildo stuffed into the girl's bottom and gripped the end, twisting it slightly, pushing and pulling a little.
"Oh! Ohhh!" the girl panted. "Oh yes! Unhgg!"
"You must not climax without telling us," the man said.
"Oh! Yes, sir. I-I... I'm going to come!" she panted.
Hannah didn't need to be told to yank on the cord, this time pulling down and away so that it pulled on both the girl's nipples and her clit.
"Oww!" the girl cried. "Aggh!"
"What do you feel, prisoner number eight two seven five eight? Is it pain, or is it heat? Feel it as heat. Hot, sharp heat."
Hannah was still tugging on the cord in sharp little motions.
"But pleasure is heat, also. It is all heat, prisoner number eight two seven five eight. If you can meld it together then you will feel the pain no more. All you will feel is pleasure."
Hannah began to lick at the girl's clit again, kissing and sucking gently, mouthing it with her soft, moist lips, warming it with her mouth as she ran her hands forward up the girl's belly and gently kneaded her breasts. She had her face jammed into her groin, into her buttocks as she mouthed the girl's clitoris, but now eased back, reaching for the vibrator, pumping it very slowly as she sucked at the clit.
The girl was moaning again, softly, groaning, her bottom rolling sluggishly, pushing back against her as she pumped the vibrator. Did she dare take the vibrator out and apply it directly to her clit? No, not now. It might set her off, and Hannah was certain she would be punished if she let the girl climax. Instead she continued working on her clit, her tongue working faster now, and the girl's responses picked up.
"You must tell us if you are about to climax,' the man said. "Or you will be punished. You must obey."
"C-C-coming!" the girl gasped.
Hannah yanked on the cord again and again, and the girl yelped and cried out with each tug. Her bottom stopped pushing back, stopped rolling, and Hannah warily reached for the vibrator, pumping it softly, then pulling it out - and out - and out, her eyes widening at how long the fat latex sex instrument was.
She pulled it free entirely, and saw the girl's glistening pink insides as she slid the vibrator back and forth over her clitoris. The girl began to moan again, and her bottom began to shake and buck back. It was a surprisingly quick reaction, and so Hannah quickly stopped, thrusting the vibrator back into her pussy. She was about to tug on the cord when one of the men behind moved her aside.
He had a long, thin leather crop, and a pair of narrow leather flaps at its end, angled away from each other and the man now thrust it between the trembling girl's legs and up at her sex. The two little flaps slapped against the smooth bare skin of her pubic mound, cracking lightly against the soft flesh framing her swollen clitoris.
Hannah could actually see the little blood-darkened clit dancing and shaking as the crop slapped against her mound, could see tiny droplets of pussy cream and sweat spattering off the girl's writhing flesh as she heard her soft gasps and yelps of pain.
"Resume," the man said as he drew the crop back.
Hannah opened her mouth, taking the top of the girl's sex into it, kissing it, sucking gently as she worked her tongue against her clit and the dangling little tag, jamming her nose against the vibrator protruding from her stretched sex lips as she sucked and licked and then, remembering an old lover, began to hum, to make the flesh vibrate.
"Oh! Oh fuck! Ungh! Unhhh! God!" she heard the girl's voice gasp as her bottom was jammed back into her face.
"Back," a voice ordered curtly.
Hannah drew back and the crop slid in, the V-shaped leather slapping against the girl's sex sharply and repeatedly as Hannah tugged on the chain, pulling on her clit and nipples.
"Resume."
Hannah neither understood, nor cared why they were treating the sweating, moaning girl as they were. She wanted only to please the men, the dark, faceless men who were so cruel and who controlled her life so casually. She continued to lick and suck on the girl, and to draw back.
Now the man was using a different crop, one with a triangular slapper which struck the wailing girl's clitoris directly. The sight of the thin leather slapping against the swollen clit made her wince and want to reach down between her own legs, but she held still as the girl's bottom jerked and thrashed.
Then, of course, she moved in once more, helping to arouse the girl once more.
"Do you want to come?" a man asked, from in front of the girl. "Do you want to come, prisoner number eight two seven five eight? Do you want to come?"
"Yesss," the girl moaned, her voice slurred, dazed.
"Beg for pain and you will be allowed to climax. Beg for pain, prisoner number eight two seven five eight. Beg."
"Oh! Please," the girl gasped in a choked voice. "Please hurt me! Please hurt me, sir! Please hurt me! Oh God, I'm going to come! Please hurt me!"
"Then come, prisoner number eight two seven five eight. Have your climax."
And yet as Hannah kept sucking and licking, as she felt the girl's bottom begin to rut back in orgiastic delight, as she heard her voice beginning to wail in pleasure, she was pulled back again, and the crop thrust between the girl's legs, slapping faster and harder than ever at her clitoris. At first she thought the men had simply been teasing the girl, pretending to let her come. Yet if so they had mistimed their intervention. The girl was climaxing, violently climaxing, and the slapping against her clitoris did not seem to be stopping or even slowing it. In fact, if anything, the quick little slaps seemed to be pushing her higher into a climax which, to Hannah's eyes and ears, seemed enormously powerful.
She felt a sense of victory, of shared victory with the girl. For she had climaxed, taken pleasure, despite their sadistic intent. Yet the men did not seem angry, did not try stronger interventions to stop her climax. On the contrary, they seemed oddly pleased.
"Excellent, prisoner number eight two seven five eight. Excellent," one of them said.



Chapter Five

Lisa knelt sullenly between them, eyes wary but defiant, legs spread as she'd been ordered, back straight. Yet her body was stiff with resentment and she made no effort to hide it.
"What is your name?"
"Lisa Mailwan," she said stiffly.
"And you are?"
Lisa bit her lip angrily. "Prisoner eight two seven six oh," she said.
For a long, uncomfortable moment she knelt between them on the floor, waiting, starting to feel a fear squirming within her belly. She had obeyed them, she thought insistently. She had done what she was told. They had no cause to punish her.
Then she was seized from behind, the two big men yanking her to her feet and dragging her forward. She was not taken to the shower, however. Instead they placed her in the centre of the room, and drew down a chain which they locked to her wrist restraints. She swallowed anxiously as the other man moved to the wall and touched a button. She could hear a machine sound, and then the chain drew up, lifting her wrists, forcing her to the balls of her feet.
She gulped fearfully and looked at them, then saw one take a long, multi tailed whip from a steel cabinet.
"D-Don't you dare use that on me!" she gasped.
She tried to kick out at him as he approached, but he avoided it easily. In the next instant another of the men was behind her, kneeling, grasping both legs and pinning them together. Her ankle restraints were locked together, and then, with the use of a small pin and a short length of chain, locked to the floor. The man then stepped back and the other, with the whip, came forward.
The fact they had no faces was - unnerving. They never shouted, never seemed to grow angry. Their voices were calm, cold, unemotional. It was as though they were robots, machines. Yet still she knew they weren't, and tried not to show fear as the man moved behind her.
The whip cut across her back, and she arched violently, an involuntary cry of pain echoing through the nearly bare room as she felt the razor sharp pain of a dozen slashing cuts rip through her nervous system. Another, and another, and another cut into her, and her back began to burn with a fire she had never felt. She was clenching her jaw so tightly she was afraid her teeth might break, yet still she cried out with each blow.
Tears began to fill her eyes, and she blinked them back furiously, determined to show them now weakness. But as the whip continued to slash across her shoulders and back and then her lower back she began to moan and whimper.
There was a pause, and, gasping for breath, sweating heavily, she thought for a moment she had survived the beating victorious. But then she saw out of her peripheral vision another of the faceless men handing a thin crop to the one behind her, and braced herself anew.
The crop struck her bottom, and she screamed at the jagged pain, her hips bucking forward. The pain was deeper now, the crop heavier, and she sobbed helplessly before catching herself. Then the crop struck again, and again, and her head thrashed weakly as she tried to suppress the growing pain and burning. Again the crop struck, and again, and again, and now tears were trickling freely down her face as she sobbed and cried out.
The man paused and came around in front of her, holding the crop, and still there was that unnerving lack of any humanity, no face, no skin, nothing. He raised the crop and swung it forward very slowly, letting it linger at her breast, rubbing at her nipples. Lisa realized his intent, and felt a shock.
"N-No!" she gasped. "No. Fuck! Y-You can't! I - ."
The crop sliced forward, cutting through the air with a sound like paper tearing, and struck her full, firm right breast directly above the nipple.
Lisa screamed at the pain, her body flung violently backwards, but held in place by the chains on her wrists and ankles. The sharp, shocking blast took her breath away, leaving her mouth gaping as she panted for breath. And then the next blow hit the other breast and again she screamed out in a choked voice. The pain was too terrible, too awful, and her pride shattered around her.
"Stop! Please! Please! I'll do anything you want!" she cried desperately.
Another blow struck the first breast, slashing viciously into the soft, warm flesh, sinking in almost as far as her ribs as she screamed in agony.
"No! No! I'll do anything you wa - ."
The next blow struck her nipple directly, and she shrieked and sobbed in pain. But no amount of begging had any affect, though she babbled and screamed and sobbed and promised anything as the crop sliced into her soft flesh. Blow after blow landed across her proud breasts, turning them into tortured, burning masses of agony, and still the blows fell, until she lost all hope.
And then came the multi-tailed whip, with its lighter, but more plentiful leather thongs, slicing into the flesh of her chest and belly, of her ribs and abdomen and thighs.
And then one of the men moved to the wall, and another knelt before her, and she thought with a wild, animal hope, that it was finally over. Yet when her ankles were released she felt her arms actually being pulled harder, felt herself lifted from the floor to dangle by her wrists.
One of the men moved behind her, bent, circled her thighs, and lifted her legs up, then pulled them back against her body. His leather covered hands seized her legs behind the knees, squeezing tightly, sliding upwards until they gripped her ankles, pulling her legs up and back farther so they were framing her head.
The man with the whip moved up to stand before her, and reversed it in his hand. Now the fat, notched leather handle pressed against her glistening bare sex and pushed roughly and painfully into her body.
"Beg," the voice said, calm, cool, almost disinterested.
Lisa sobbed.
"Beg for cock," the voice said.
"P-Please fuck me!" Lisa sobbed. "Please fuck me!"
"More passion. Convince me."
"Please fuck me!" she panted. "Please! Please fuck me!"
The head shook. "Not good enough."
The whip handle pulled free of her sex and the stepped back, reversing the whip. Lisa stared at him in disbelief, eyes widening, and then cried out in anticipation and fear as the whip was flung forward, the thongs slicing into the soft flesh of her sex, of her inner thighs. She screamed and burst into desperate entreaties.
"Please fuck me, sir! Please! I want your cock! I love your cock! Please fuck my cunt! Please put your cock in me! Ahghhgh! Please fuck me with your cock, sir! I love your cock, sir! Agghh! Please, please, please fuck me! Please shove your cock into me! Please rape me, sir! Please! Aggghh! Please let me suck your cock, sir! Please fuck my pussy! Fuck my ass! Anything! Anything!"
Her voice rose in passion and intensity, with growing desperation as the whip sliced into her burning body. And finally the man's arm lowered, as she continued to babble frantically, begging them to fuck her or do anything they wanted with her lithe young body.
The machine noise whirred, and she was lowered to the floor. One of the big, dark clad men released her wrists and she all-but fell to the floor. Then a boot on her back sent her sprawling forward onto her belly.
"Crawl to me," the man at the wall said. "Crawl on your belly and beg."
Whimpering, her body a flaring mass of tortured nerve endings, Lisa crawled forward across the floor on her belly, sobbing, gasping and wincing in pain as she dragged her whipped breasts and belly across the floor to his feet.
A foot was extended to her, the leather boot glistening. "Lick," the voice said coolly.
Gasping, moaning, whimpering, Lisa licked at the man's boot, her pink tongue sliding anxiously across the cold leather as her eyes looked desperately up at him.
"Beg."
"P-Please fuck me, sir," she panted. "Please fuck my pussy or my ass or anything. Please let me suck your cock, sir. Fuck me any way you want!"
His hand drew his zipper upwards and his thick reddish cock tumbled out, springing free and erect. Lisa moaned, dragging herself up his leather clad legs and then taking it carefully into her mouth, wrapping her hands around it briefly before a curt order dropped her arms to her sides.
She sucked as well as she could, and she had a lot of experience in pleasing men. But his hand came forward, gripping her hair, bunching it up, then pulling her forward, driving his cock into the back of her mouth, into her throat. She choked and coughed and her body tried to pull back, her arms rising, her hands pressing against him.
"Hands at your sides or the whipping begins again, from the start," his voice said coolly.
Terrified, her arms dropped, and Lisa tried to prevent her body from resisting. Yet her body twisted and squirmed and she fought gagging and choking as his cock pushed down deep into her throat. With casual brutality he began to thrust into her mouth and throat, yanking her forward into his groin, jamming her nose into his leather covered body again and again as he raped her throat.
Then he yanked back on her hair, flinging her back onto the floor where she lay gasping and coughing, spitting out saliva as she gulped in deep breaths of air.
"Hands and knees," he ordered. "Obey at once or be punished."
Still coughing and gasping, Lisa flung herself onto her belly and forced her knees in, raising her bottom as he knelt behind her. She felt his cock sliding up and down over her aching pussy, then thrusting into her. She moaned but offered no resistance as she felt his thick shaft pushing deep into her belly.
"Show me how you love it," he said. "Show me how much you love my cock."
"I-I love it," she gasped. "I love your cock."
Belatedly she thrust back, ignoring the pain, gasping and moaning, but trying to make it masquerade as pleasure. "Yes! I-It's so good! Unngh! I love your cock, sir!" she panted, rutting against it, impaling herself on his cock, riding back along it, rolling her bottom as she feigned sexual enjoyment.
She gasped as she felt him seize her hair and yank it back.
"Yes! Yes! Fuck me! Fuck my cunt! I love it, sir! I love your cock inside me!" she panted, humping back desperately.

There was a television in Keri's cell, now, a flat screen TV on the left wall. There was also a large mirror, this placed against the back wall, and a light in one corner. The television showed a blonde girl not unlike herself, nude, performing sex acts or posing for the camera in response to orders. A distant part of herself noted somewhat incredulously that the girl was performing like a well-trained dog, begging, kneeling, sitting, and spreading her legs at command.
And she did it all with a smile, a very convincing smile of delight every time the off-camera voice gave her an order. She performed like an eager puppy, throwing herself happily into every new pose and twist of her body, with a complete lack of self-consciousness, resistance or reluctance.
When she masturbated, either with her fingers, or with large dildos she writhed in sexual enjoyment, and her climaxes seemed unfeigned. When she begged to be used sexually she sounded desperately sincere and aroused to the point of frantic need.
There was no question she was to imitate the girl, to learn from her and behave as she was. The very first video of her showed her with a thick, latex dildo which was easily twenty inches long. It was coloured in alternate shades of pink and blue. And a similar dildo had been placed before the television.
And if that hadn't been enough of a clue a message was taped to the top of the TV: learn or be punished.
On the TV, the girl picked up the long dildo, made a mischievous grin at the camera, and then began to lick and suck on the head. Teasing, taunting, she licked and sucked, taking it deeper and deeper. Then she tilted her head back and let the entire length of it slide straight down her throat, holding on to the tip just within her mouth. She held it there, then pulled the whole long length back out and grinned proudly at the camera.
It was hard to remember who she was, and how she had come to be there. It was hard to think of escape, of the studies she had been on her way to, of her friends, of the world outside. It was hard to think of anything more than the immediate need to please her captors to avoid the awful pain they would deal out when they were not pleased.
And so Keri took the dildo into her mouth, watching the video, trying to imitate the girl. She choked often, gagged repeatedly, but fear and desperation leant her strength of will. And eventually she learned to take the long length of flexible latex down her throat just as the girl had.
She had already learned to pose as the girl had, to rush to obey, to position her body as she was ordered. And the next time the men came for her, the next time the huge, hulking, black-clad men in helmets and visors led her, wrists locked together behind her back, to the shower room she was able to demonstrate her ability, throwing herself into the same poses as quickly as the girl had.
"Sufficient for now," the voice said.
She was not surprised when the big dildo was thrown onto the floor before her, and anxiously snatched it up, breathless with anticipation to show them that she had learned. As they watched, she sucked and licked, and then took it deep into her throat.
"Sufficient, for now," the voice said.
Then the faceless man looked down at her and said "masturbate".
She blinked and then felt a surge of terrible anxiety, for this was not something she had practiced. Yet she tried, awkwardly laying back, spreading her knees, and running her hands over her body.
"Not sufficient," the voice said.
In an instant the big men who had stood silently behind seized her and dragged her roughly across the floor. Against the far wall was a wooden frame she had barely noticed before. Now it was dragged out, and proved to be a kind of stocks, but vertical rather than horizontal. She was on her belly, and her legs were raised, bent at the knees, and her ankles locked in place in the stocks.
Then one of the men moved forward, holding a long, thin crop, and slashed it down against the centre of her bare foot. Keri screamed in pain, her wrists yanking violently against the leather restraints, her ankles and legs pulling frantically, her body writhing and twisting.
"Please! I'm sorry! I'll do better!" she screamed.
"For speaking. The punishment is doubled," a bland voice said.
The crop sliced into the soft sole of her foot, into her instep, into her toes, as she screamed and sobbed and twisted from side to side in helpless agony. The man rained blows on one foot, then the other, all three faceless men indifferent to her cries of agony.
When he was finished her feet were swollen red and in agony. She was leashed, her wrists unlocked, and she was permitted to crawl back to her cell, sobbing miserably the entire way.
"Be ready for tomorrow," the toneless voice said before the cell door was closed and the heavy bolts shot into place.
Now the TV showed endless scenes of the girl masturbating, her face a mask of exquisite bliss, her body writhing, twisting, her head thrashing.
Keri spent some time sobbing and gently squeezing her burning feet, and then she tried her to best to imitate the girl on the TV. It did not even occur to her that somewhere someone might be watching her in another TV, that the cameras overhead she had almost forgotten about might be carrying her image to someone else as she tried to moan as the girl moaned, writhe as the girl writhed.

"She's coming along well," Sir James said.
"Yes. I think so."
"Have you fed her any of the drug yet?"
The other shook his head. We'd like their responses to be automated before we begin to reward their bodies. That will tend to reinforce what is already there. We are using it on the Irish girl, though, to help train her body and mind."
Sir James's face turned into a shark's leer. "Ah yes, the little Irish slut. How is she coming along?"
"Her conditioning is going surprisingly well," the other said earnestly. "Honestly, I think she might turn out to be one of the best. Even without the drug she was doing well. With it her responses are becoming quite marvelous to see."
"Show me."
The man turned on another TV. The Irish girl had a bit in her mouth, and her head and body were forced back across a curved, wheel-like frame, her legs straight and spread wide. She was blindfolded, and headphones covered her ears. Wires were attached to several parts of her body, principally the sides of her head, her ankles, belly and her fingers.
Her body was jerking, flinching, twitching, sweat sheening her.
"The electrodes deliver a steady series of painful jolts of varying current to her body," the man said. "They do this, two to five times per second for sixty seconds, then stop for thirty. The technician beside her then touches her in a way which might otherwise seem unpleasant, but in this context is a great relief to her. So much so she comes to long for it, and to dread it ending."
Erin had given up crying long ago, and her body blindly jerked and twitched and spasmed as the short, sharp electrical charges snapped and crackled through her. She longed for it to end with feverish animal desperation, and then it did, and she sagged exhausted and relieved as the voice in her head crooned to her. "Pleasure," it whispered. "Pleasure. Obey. Pleasure. Obey. Obey. Pleasure."
She felt the rough fingers kneading her breasts, pinching and twisting her nipples stingingly, pulling and plucking at them. But the pain was as nothing compared to - the other.
"Pleasure. Serve. Obey. Pleasure. Obey. Serve."
And then the voice was gone and the jolts shook her body once more, so that she twitched and shook and bucked helplessly as the hot, painful shocks rippled through her nervous system.
And then they ended.
"Pleasure. Obey. Pleasure. Obey. Serve. Pleasure," the voice crooned as she felt the soft slapping against her aching clit, a slapping which stung, but only a little compared the other.
And then the shocks returned, and when they stopped she felt that stinging slapping against her breasts, against her nipples. This didn't really hurt at all. It was almost pleasure to her dazed, feverish mind

"This is just routine conditioning, of course," the man said. "If you really want to see her responses, let me show you... this."
He placed a DVD into the slot below the TV and a different image came on. It was the same girl but she was now riding a dildo, squatting, straddling a low rounded frame. Her wrists were bound together to the back of her collar and she was blindfolded. She was moaning softly as she rode the dildo.
"She knows that if she takes if fully inside her she will be punished - but not a lot. See that arm behind and to one side. Watch."
As the girl sank fully down the arm swung up and in, and Sir James saw it had a thin flog attached. The flog cut across the girl's back and she gasped as it struck, but it was not a heavy flog, and the stinging, while it caused her to sometimes ease the lengths of her strokes, was not deterrent enough. She rode down fully again and again, gasping and moaning in the throes of pleasure and pain at the same time.
"She can't resist taking as much into her body as she can get, even if it does bring a flogging," the man said in satisfaction.
They watched as she arched her back, and now Sir James saw that her nipples were clipped, the chains attached to a frame before her. She was deliberately leaning back, pulling against the clips, tugging her nipples against it as she rode up and down, and even the flog cutting into her back could not stop her as she rode up and down with more desperation, then cried out as she climaxed.
"Lovely," Sir James breathed, his groin stirring.



Chapter Six

Hannah moaned softly. She had not had food or water in at least a day, perhaps longer. She felt light-headed and dazed, her head hanging upside down over the edge of the low wooden frame on which her body was bound. Her body lay, back arched painfully, on the narrow frame, ankles drawn up and back, bound tightly to the frame alongside her hips. Her arms were pulled firmly straight down the length of her body underneath her bottom with such force that her shoulders were drawn down, her back arched violently. Only her shoulders and lower legs were thus actually touching the platform on which she lay. The rest of her body was arched up, bowed sharply.
There was a large dildo stuffed into her bottom, and a powerful vibrator purring inside her straining sex. Her lips were wrapped around the base of a fat, heavy dildo, much of which had sunk into her throat. Her nipples strained painfully upwards, attached, by means of thin wire or cord she could not see, to her pony tail, which drew her hair straight down, through a ring set into the floor, and then back up high above. The tension on the wire was such that the slightest movement of her head jerked her nipples stingingly.
The cord which bound her wrists was also quite taut, holding her body in position. The cord bound to her joined wrists led up across her anal opening and through a small ring set in the base of the vibrator stuffed into her belly, and then directly across her quivering clitoris. It was especially soft and silken in texture, and so as her body strained and pulled the tiny increase and decrease in tension caused the cord to saw across her clitoris in a way which was both painful and deliciously pleasant.
The dildo inside her mouth was on the end of a narrow tube which led down towards the floor. It was not a normal dildo, for the centre of its head was hollow, much like a real penis. In addition, there were small holes set along the shaft. There was also a small rounded stud set far down the shaft, a stud she could depress with her tongue if she could get her throat down the length of the latex cock. When pressed, a deliciously tasty, cool liquid oozed out of the holes set into the latex cock, and spurted out the tip.
The trick, of course, was that the stud was a foot and a half from the tip of the latex dildo. In order to touch that stud with her tongue she needed to take much of it into her throat.
She was attempting to do so. For one of the black clad men had forced her throat down earlier and the feel of the tangy liquid on her parched throat and tongue, and the feel of it spurting into her empty belly had been enough to transfix her mind and lend it a sense of desperate need.
And so as one of the black clad men looked on impassively, she stretched and strained, moaning as she forced her head down farther, tilted her face forward, inching her lips further down the shaft.
This, of course, forced her back to arch even more powerfully, and while it eased the pressure on her nipples slightly, pulling her head back more than made up for this slight lack of tension, so that her nipples strained even more sharply. It also caused the cord to jerk back and forth over her clit as her body strained downwards.
She could feel the long, thick shaft filling her throat as she tried to swallow more of it. It ached, but only slightly, for the latex was soft and malleable, and she could see the stud ahead, if she just took - a little more - into her mouth and throat. She moaned around the thick cock and forced her head back further, pulling on her nipples, arching her back, grinding the cord across her clit as her lips took in more and more.
And then the stud was through her lips and her tongue searched wildly for the stud, found it, and pressed down.
Liquid oozed out into her dirt-dry throat and mouth, and she moaned in satisfaction around the shaft, slurping and sucking and trying to swallow with the intensity of the dehydrated. But, of course, her body was violently arched, and she could not maintain her position for very long. Already she was trembling, her hips jerking, her shoulders burning.
She sucked desperately at the oozing liquid until, with a gasp, her body slumped back, and inch after inch slid back up from the depths of her throat. The liquid stopped spurting, though she continued to lick and suck for long seconds.
Her body remained bowed, of course, for the cord pulling on her wrists was firm and would not relent, but it held her without any effort on the part of her own muscles, and she gasped for breath, resting, able to breath through the thin holes in the shaft of the latex cock which were now empty, now able to deliver air.
Her trembling body shined with perspiration there on the narrow block, but the black clad man looked on impassively as Hannah tried to work up the energy to strain downwards once more. She got her breath, then began the labourious effort, arching farther, forcing her head back, sucking in more and more of the latex shaft.
She had no idea at all why she was being forced to do this. She had no idea who the men were who had taken her, or why. She had no thought for escape. Her thinking over the previous days had become infinitely simple; obey.
And yet, there were other, primal imperatives; food, water, bodily comfort. And so Hannah forced her lips all the way down the thick shaft and moaned in bliss as the thick, oozing liquid filled her mouth and throat once again.
She was not aware that the liquid contained little nourishment. There was no protein in it to help her body. There was, however, a drug, a powerful aphrodisiac obtained secretly from a pharmaceutical company which was even then attempting to gain government permission to market it as a female version of male sexual drugs like Viagra. That would take years, of course.
And the group had it now. Nor did they have any compunction in using it in greater strength than the pharmaceutical company intended.
Hannah's body had already been attuned to sex for some time, but she had been given no real pleasure. Now as the drug coursed through her system her nerve endings grew more sensitive, especially around her sex. Her breasts flushed with heat, her sex lips swelling, her clitoris enlarging. Sex cream began to ooze out against the vibrator purring snugly away inside her belly.
With no conscious thought her body began to react instinctively, and Hannah began to feel the sparkle of pleasure when her movements tugged on her straining nipples, or rubbed the soft cord across her clitoris. Sexual need began to rise like a haze around her already confused mind even as a speaker placed beneath the platform began to whisper in a soft female voice "Obey. Obey."
Hannah's body began to writhe and strain further and more harshly, her desperate need for the liquid oozing from the latex cock now overshadowed by her body's craving for sexual satisfaction. Her wrists began to pull harshly back, ignoring the pain in her shoulders as she sought to rub the soft cord back and forth across her swollen clitoris.
Her head jerked fitfully, tugging repeatedly at the cord linked to her nipples, and her hips rolled and jerked spastically as her sex squeezed and spasmed around the vibrator inside her. She moaned in animal-like need, forcing her throat down the dildo to suck in the delicious liquid, then relenting, gasping, desperate for air.
It was both physically and mentally exhausting, but her body was relentless in its demands, and her dazed mind was driven by her animal needs.
When the first climax rippled through her nervous system she screamed in unrestrained pleasure, her body bucking and shaking in violent spasms of pleasure as the orgasm roared within her. It was the most pleasure she could ever remember, and it created in her mind the determination to seek it again and again.

Keri moaned in feigned pleasure as she lay nude on the floor between the faceless black-clad men. Her hands ran slowly up and down her body, her head rolling slowly, her lips parted, her eyes slitted as she pretended to masturbate. Like Hannah, she had been given no sustenance, no liquid for some time, and her lips were cracked and dry, her mouth and throat aching and parched.
Yet she obeyed, desperate to avoid the same punishment she had been given for her earlier failure.
The sight of her would not have aroused many men. Her eyes were sunken and dark rimmed, her hair dirty and tangled, her body covered in bruises and welts. Yet the men watching were satisfied, and for the first time since her capture Keri heard words of praise.
"Good girl," the man who had spoken to her said, and his voice, rather than being cold and toneless, was filled with warmth and pleasure.
The affect was startling. Keri felt a wave of relief and pleasure at having succeeded, at having apparently pleased the man who held the power of God over her.
"Here. On your belly, girl," the voice said, squatting and extending his hand.
Instantly, Keri twisted about onto her belly and lay at his feet as he petted her, stroking her head with one hand and holding out a hand covered in some thick, sticky substance. He stroked his finger across her parched lips and the delicious taste made her senses tingle. His finger slipped into her mouth and she moaned and licked at it, sucking the tasty oozing liquid, licking it off his finger, then the next.
As her tongue licked and sucked excitedly at his fingers he stroked her head and patted her, and his voice was warm and friendly. "Good girl," he said several times. "You're learning well."
When she had licked his hand clean the man drew back.
"All right. Back in position. Let's see that again."
Keri actually felt a sense of eagerness now, and threw herself back into her former position on her back, legs spread, knees drawn back. The man dropped a thick dildo onto her belly and she seized it at once, rubbing the head across her clitoris.
She felt an odd sense of numbness there for a few moments, and a kind of tingling in her fingers and toes and then, oddly, her nipples. But she ignored it as she rubbed the head of the latex dildo over her clit and moaned in pleasure for her viewers. She felt her eagerness to please rising, and whatever restraint she had fleeing. Her body actually began to respond to her caresses, which caused her another fleeting sense of surprise.
She worked the dildo slowly into her pussy, gasping as her sex lips strained wide around it. Yet her pussy began to lubricate, and it was becoming easier to slide the dildo into her tight tunnel. She felt the stirring in her loins and groaned as her other hand squeezed and kneaded her now throbbing breasts.
She was determined to put on a good show! Yes, a good show! To make the man with the friendly voice happy! And yet, less acting was necessary than she might have once thought, for her body was growing very aroused, and she was beginning to twist the dildo inside herself and stroke her thumb across her clitoris for more reasons than simply putting on a show.
Her breathing became ragged, her body heating, her breasts swelling. She moaned for real now, her head rolling, tongue lolling as the sexual need really began to take hold. Her pussy and nipples felt intensely sensitive now, and she gasped and shuddered as her fingers stroked across them.
"Oh! Oh God! Ungh! Oh yes! Ohhh!" she moaned, not thinking of her audience, of her need to feign masturbation, thinking only of her own powerful inner heat and need.
She was no longer pretending, and that made her show so very much easier. So much easier she almost forgot she was putting on a show. The pleasure was unfeigned, the heat roaring inside her, sweat beginning to bead on her forehead and cheeks and chest as she pumped the dildo inside her with more and more desperate movements. Her finger jerked frantically against her clitoris and her head rolled and jerked as her hips bucked spasmodically.
The climax rolled over her and she cried out, her body jerking again and again, drawing a cries of bliss and passion from her throat as her eyes rolled back in her head.
"Good girl," the man said warmly as she collapsed, gasping, chest heaving.
"Good girl," the other men echoed, their voices warm and friendly.
A snap of the leader's fingers and she was breathlessly throwing herself at his feet, to lick and suck this time on his cock, which was also covered in the delicious, oozing liquid, moaning and sucking as she took it deep into her throat and, almost immediately, into her throat.
Behind her she felt, for the first time, soft, warm skin against her bottom, stroking and caressing her sex, reaching beneath to gently knead her beasts and finger her nipples. Heat hung like a shimmering curtain around her mind, and she moaned, arching her back, pushing her throbbing pussy back at the gentle hands caressing her.
One of the men moved behind her and eased the dildo out of her pussy, and she nearly swooned with pleasure as a hard, warm cock pushed into her body in its place. She sucked hungrily at the cock in her mouth and throat as another thrust into her with long, deep strokes, her body burning up with need and desire.
Her excitement and delight rose as she felt the soft, warm hands sliding over her back and shoulders, kneading her breasts and bottom. It was a deep human desire to feel the touch of others, to be around others, and these machine-like, faceless people with their cold voices had certainly done nothing to satisfy that desire. Now she basked in their soft voices and hands and preened with delight even aside from the sexual heat flooding her body and mind.
She drove her lips down to the base of the man's cock, utterly determined to please him, to do the best possible job for all of them. She squeezed her pussy down around the cock pumping inside her each time it withdrew, and bucked her hips back onto it to meet each forward thrust.
There was not a hint of embarrassment, not a shred of inhibition left in her as she grunted and moaned under a feverish wave of sexual heat and hunger. And when the orgasm flared wild and hot she jammed her pussy back onto the cock driving into her and cried out in wondrous bliss, happier than she had been in ages, fear and pain cast aside for once.



Chapter Seven

It was a very small room, and the floor and walls were still bare stone. But it had a real toilet in the corner, and though there was a window - high up, too high to look out of, but still able to let in outside light. There were frilly curtains on it, as well. There was a small, soft rug on the floor between bed and heavy door.
And she had a real bed! With sheets! Hannah lay back, groaning in delicious comfort, spreading her arms and legs, arching her back at the sheer luxury of it.
"Do you like your new cell, Hannah?" the visored man asked.
"Oh yes, sir!" Hannah said eagerly.
She threw herself out of bed at once, onto the delightfully soft rug, and knelt at his feet, grasping his black leg and rubbing her face blissfully up and down against his thigh.
"Thank you, sir! Thank you so much!"
He ruffled her hair and she imagined he smiled behind the visor.
"This is what you get for being a good girl" he said, his voice stressing the last two words.
"I'll always be a good girl, sir! I promise," Hannah said, grasping his gloved hand and kissing the back of it, then holding it against her cheek.
"Good girl," he said, ruffling her hair with the other hand. "Now kneel at the edge of the bed and show me your bottom."
Hannah sprang away, jumping onto the bed and kneeling, raising her bottom and spreading her legs. "Would you like to fuck me, sir? Please fuck me!" she begged eagerly.
She turned her head, beaming as she saw him come in and unzip the bottom of his jumpsuit.
"Would you like me to suck you first, sir?" she asked.
"Not necessary," he said.
Then he removed his gloves, and Hannah inhaled sharply, then closed her eyes and moaned, her back arching as his hands moved softly across the length of it, then kneaded her buttocks.
She felt his cock nose in beneath her, rubbing against her thigh, then press against her sex. She was moist inside. It seemed she was always moist now for some reason, and she groaned in delight as he sank into her body and his hands slid up the length of her back again.
"Oooo," she moaned. "You feel so good inside me, sir!"
"Your cunt feels good wrapped around my cock, too, little slut," he said in a soft, friendly voice.
"Your wonderful cock fills me up," she groaned, pushing back against him, rolling her bottom excitedly.
His cock began to pump, and she thrust back against him, panting and sighing happily as he rode her, basking in the sexual desire and pleasure coursing through her veins as her body flushed with sex heat.
He thrust harder, deeper, and she grunted as his hips cracked against her buttocks. She grew breathless with pleasure and passion, eagerly awaiting the powerful orgasm she knew was coming. Her orgasms were much more powerful now for some reason, and pleasure was like a narcotic to a mind and body which had known none for so long.
She groaned and shuddered as his hands, his bare hands, kneaded her breast, squeezing them up against her ribs, mashing them out, making the blood and heat flood her chest.
"Are you a hot little slut, Hannah?" he asked.
'I'm a hot, little slut!" she cried. "I'm a hot, dirty little slut! I love your cock, sir! I love cock! I love to be fucked! I love to suck cock! I'm a hungry little whore! I'm a cock-hungry bitch! I need cock inside me all the time! I love - ."
His words, like a trigger, had set her off, a flood of words spilling out of her mouth and through her mind as her conditioning kicked in. Yet there was no shame, no embarrassment to her words. Instead there was only pleasure and delight as she rolled her hips and gloried in the stiff cock slicing between the lips of her sex.
" - love your hard prick! I'm a nasty little dog slut! Rape me! Fuck me! Use me, sir! Fuck my dirty pussy! Rape me tight asshole! Use my whore body for your pleasure! I was made for fucking, sir! I love to be fucked! I love your cock inside me! Oh! Mmmmm!"
He silenced her by sliding his finger into her mouth, pulling back on her hair with his other hand, and she closed her lips immediately around his finger, sucking excitedly as he jerked her head back and rammed himself forward into her tight, moist sex.
She was gasping and panting and moaning, the heat overwhelming her senses as she drove herself back onto his thick cock. And then, he stopped.
She moaned in dismay as he pulled out, her pussy feeling vacant, burning up with the need to feel - something. She turned her head, anxiously, not daring to protest as he stepped back and slid his softening cock back into his jumpsuit.
"Would you like to have a visitor, Hannah?" he asked.
"Oh yes, sir!" she panted, her reply automatic.
He nodded and turned to the door, and Hannah saw, to her surprise, a black girl crawling in at the end of a leash held by another of the visored guards.
"On the bed, Nigger," the other man said.
The black girl stared at Hannah and obeyed at once.
"Face each other," the man said.
The two girls knelt, facing each other, and Hannah could see that, like herself, the Black girl's skin was beaded in sweat, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her face flushed. She could smell the musk of her bare sex.
"You've seen those lesbian videos on your TV, Hannah," the man - her man said. "We want you to do that with Nigger."
The other man patted the black girl's glossy hair. "Nigger, this is Hannah. Say hello."
"Hello, Hanah," the black girl said, oddly shyly.
"Hannah, say hello to Nigger," her man said.
"Hello - Nigger," Hannah said, knowing the word from old as one she was not supposed to say, that it was an insult.
Yet so were words like `slut' and `whore' and she had come to embrace them, as this girl apparently had come to take on what should have been a racist epithet as - her name.
Complex thoughts were beyond her, however.
"Embrace. Kiss," her man said.
And there was no question of saying no, no question of hesitating. The two young women pressed their warm bodies together and the lips met with a delicious shock of sexual electricity.
"You may please each other while we watch," the other man said.
The heat in both of them rose as their breasts pillowed together, and both girls luxuriated in the feel of another human being's body against her own, in the soft tongue and lips and hands of the other on her body. They melted together in bliss and delight which almost overshadowed the sexual heat and need enveloping them.
Almost.
Their hands moved lovingly up and down each others' body, bathing in the sheer tactile bliss of the soft, warm, human skin against them. Their lips moved moistly and passionately together as their inner heat grew, and without conscious thought each girl began to grind her hips against the other.
Neither had ever had any lesbian inclinations, but that didn't matter either. Their bodies were suffused with sexual need, their minds with a longing for human contact and the need to obey and please their captors. Their passion became a fever as their hands and lips moved against each other, and their soft moans did not need to be feigned as they slid back onto the bed and began to writhe in sexual abandon.
When Hannah felt the black girl's fingers thrust up between the swollen lips of her sex her eyes went wide and she shuddered with glee, then groaned as the girl bit into the nape of her neck. Her hands slid down her back and dug into her soft bottom, and she spread her legs, intertwining them and rolling her hips upwards. Their soft, sleek pussies began to rub and grind together in wanton abandon as their breath grew ragged.
The climax left them breathless, but their desire still flared hotly, and when Hannah slipped down to suckle at the other girl's nipple, then stare into her dark pink sex there was nothing in her eyes of the revulsion there would have been before her capture. Instead there was only excitement and passion, hunger and delight. Her tongue slipped up the line of the Black girl's sex and she felt a thrum of delight as the girl shuddered and moaned in response.

Erin's toes twitched violently, her ankles shaking and spasming against the leather restraints which held them tightly together. Her arms jerked feebly against similar leather restraints binding them behind her back, and her eyes bulged weakly as her body slowly turned in mid-air.
A thick, heavy noose had been placed around her slender throat, and she had been told that she was bad, that she had not obeyed, had not been a "good girl", and that this was to be her punishment. Then the noose had been pulled slowly tight, more and more pressure applied as it drew together around her throat, as it lifted her up onto the balls of her feet, and then, with a final malevolent twitch, lifted her fully off her feet to dangle in mid-air.
The noose dug into the soft flesh of her throat, cutting in beneath her jaw as she gurgled weakly and continued to twitch and spasm and dance in mid-air.
And yet, the pain seemed of little importance to her, and she felt no real fear. A part of her frazzled mind recognized that she might die, that indeed she was dying, but this fact did not unduly concern her.
Her body was whip-marked, her nipples pulled down hard by a pair of clips biting into them, linked by narrow chain to a similar clip biting into her clitoris. An enormous vibrator had been thrust up between her legs, with a small metal arm which hooked up across the top of her slit and pressed directly against her clitoris.
Heat coursed through her veins. The arousal total. Sexual hunger flayed her mind, and passion and excitement howled through her with unrestrained power. Every few seconds a new peak of pleasure slashed across her body and mind, the intensity ever rising so that they threatened madness.
She was being hanged, hanged by the neck, and yet in her present state of mind, the thought brought only dark, masochistic excitement.
It was very difficult to breath, of course, and her face was dark red. Yet she could breath, after a fashion, enough to retain consciousness. Though her eyes bulged and she gurgled and choked her body continued to flare with wild, passionate burst of sexual bliss which approached ecstasy. An orgasm so shattering her legs began to jerk violently and her body to swing and turn much faster tore through her.
And another orgasm followed, as she croaked a scream of passion and hunger.
Her eyes rolled back in her head, but then rolled down again, for she was in a circular room not much larger than a closet, and the walls were mirrored. The sight of herself hanging, hanging by the neck, was so exciting, so delicious, that it drove her into another orgasm almost at once, and again she began to shake and jerk with the stunning sexual electricity ripping through her.
Black dots danced before her eyes, and her chest burned from lack of air. Her head felt ready to explode, and the world swam around her as her eyes began to cross and her vision blurred. And then, with a final bucking and shaking, the world turned to black and she finally hung limp, swaying slowly in place.

Keri danced. She danced eagerly, joyously, for the blank visored men watching, danced as though she had been practicing for hours on end, watching the videos she had been supplied with. She danced and stripped, turned and twisted, until, naked, she ground her hips around the pole on the low stage, twisting her body up and down, giving lewd, saucy grins and coy, flirtatious looks to the faceless men looking on.
And then, in a movement which almost threw her off her careful routine, one of them, the one sitting in the centre, undid his helmet and took it off. For the first time since she had been captured she saw a human face. He was a young man, though older than she, handsome, with a square jaw and penetrating eyes. He smiled at her and she felt a wave of joy and gladness.
"Come here, and give me a lap dance, girl," he ordered.
Keri threw herself down before him, and then, remembering how she had practiced with the chair she had been supplied, she slowed her movements and let her face become coy, once more. She rolled her hips before him, slowly sliding forward to straddle the chair, and him, then easing her buttocks down until they were grinding against his thighs.
His hands, his bare hands, slid up and down her body, and she groaned with unfeigned pleasure, arching her back as she continued to grind herself against him, pushing her throbbing breasts into his hands as she leaned in against him. Her hands went onto his shoulders and she ground herself closer to his torso, rubbing her buttocks down on his bulging groin now as she pressed her soft breasts into his face.
He began to suckle and chew on the nipples as his hands cupped her bottom and squeezed, and Keri continued to grind herself against him, her body moving to the music coming from the speaker below the stage.
He gripped her hair, yanking her head back, but she did not resist, nor stop her grinding movements as her back was bowed. She felt his tongue and lips, then his teeth on her nipples, and moaned in pleasure.
Then he released her hair.
"Take my cock out and ride it," he said.
Keri's body leaned forward once more, and her hands slid down below her, rubbing at his swollen groin, undoing his trousers, drawing out his hardness as he ran his hands over her body. She drew his long, fat cock up against her belly, then pushed herself up, drawing the head in between her legs, pressing it against her opening.
She sank down with a groan and a shudder of pleasure, her sex lips forced wide as she sank onto the blunt nose and took it deep.
"Yess," she groaned, the word drawn out in a long breath of joyous bliss.
"Ride it, slut. Ride it," he said, slapping her bottom.
Keri got her hands on his shoulders again, and began to grind her hips, then rise up and down, impaling herself again and again on his stiff lance. Her face was a mask of intense passion and hunger as she rode him, and every time he flicked a finger across her clitoris she shuddered and bucked helplessly.
"Turn around and put it in your ass now."
She rose up at once, though she did not want to let him slip free, and backed away, then turned instantly, straddling him while facing away. She sank back and reached between her legs, taking his cock, now glistening with her juices, and placing the head against her anal opening. She sank down more slowly this time, but she felt almost as much pleasure as he penetrated her and slid up into her belly.
She began to ride him once more, twisting her hips from side to side, gasping with pleasure as his hands came around and cupped and fondled her breasts. When one of the other men stood and drew out his cock, she did not hesitate in taking it into her mouth, moaning around it as she continued to ride the cock in her bottom.
She did not note the nod the men gave each other, nor would she have understood what it meant. She was ready.



Chapter Eight

The leather suit was designed not merely to mould to the human body, but to mould that body. It was tight, the pressure remorseless. It squeezed in around Erin's legs and thighs and buttocks as she stood obediently, arms outstretched.
It was a bodysuit, a cat suit, of sorts, and as the men in black worked her bottom into it they drew the front forward against her chest. There were two narrow openings for her breasts - too small, of course. They pinched and tugged at her breasts, forcing them through the narrow holes so that they bulged out tautly, pale white against the dark black leather.
The bodysuit was drawn together in back by strong laces which crushed the tough leather in together around her slim waist. She gasped in pain as the leather squeezed in around her internal organs, and felt as though they were being pushed downward with such force they might be expelled through her pussy.
Not through her anus, of course, for the tough, blow-up anal expander which had been driven deep into her bottom and then blown up like a balloon inside her was incapable of being expelled, and already giving her cramps.
The front of the cat suit was also drawn together with laces, but more carefully, leaving her swollen sex lips naked, circled by leather. The two sides of the leather were drawn in by laces just above and below her clitoris, drawn in together in such a way the flesh all around her clitoris was squeezed tightly and her clitoris was pushed out nakedly. Her clitoris, always swollen now, was framed and left naked, the pressure of the laces surrounding its base making it throb with every beat of her heart.
Her slit was also bare and framed by the tight leather, the lips forced well apart by the hugely thick black dildo jammed high inside her. The base of the dildo protruded two full inches below her so that it was obvious to even a casual glance. And there were white lines drawn around that base. The lowest, right at the base, had the number "16" on it. The next lowest had a "15". It took no great leap of imagination for the casual eye to understand that there were 14 inches of thick latex cock as thick as a wine bottle jammed up into the Irish girl's aching cavity, and held in place by a single strap passing through a ring set into the side of the dildo near the base.
The little tag dangling from it shifted and swung with her every movement, pulling and tugging on her hard little clitoris weakly but with a definite sting to it, especially when combined with the twisting of the inflexible latex cock up inside her pussy every time she turned.
The thick collar around her throat kept her chin up, preventing her from even seeing her body, and her arms were encased in a leather sleeve which forced them back so tightly her arms ground together all the way to the elbows, so that she could not touch her body either.
The six inch stiletto heels on her leather booties kept her bottom elevated, but made walking more difficult. But she was hardly in a position to complain, even if she'd been of a mind to do so. A leather strap was buckled around her mouth which effectively covered everything from her nose to her chin. A hole over her mouth was framed by a hardened leather circle which was jammed through her lips, forcing her jaw wide. And an eighteen inch latex dildo had been thrust through it and down her throat, locked into place with a pair of tiny snaps to either side of her mouth.
Fortunately she had learned to breath with large objects - especially cocks - in her throat by then, though it required effort to soften her inner muscles and allow air to be sucked in around the dildo.
The only thing on Erin which was free was her hair, her gloriously red hair which flowed out around her head in long, curving ringlets which spilled over her black leather shoulders and down her back.
Now she stood alone in a small room she had never been in before, panting weakly, her insides aching from the pressure of the leather squeezing down around her, her clit throbbing, her body thrumming with sexual hunger, her pussy squeezing down around the fat dildo inside it, her belly aching from the fat, blown up butt plug in her anus.
And then the door opened and her eyes went wide, for a man stood there. He was an ordinary man, dressed in an expensive dark suit, tall, slender, distinguished looking, with graying hair. He had a face! It was the first face she had seen since her capture! The first pair of eyes which she had looked upon, the first contact with humanity.
And the man smiled at her!
"Hello, Irish," the man said, his eyes skimming up and down her body. "We have not previously been introduced. I am your new master. You will always call me such. I am not sir, but master. Remember that or you will be reminded in a most painful way."
He reached out and ran his hands over her taut young breasts, and Erin felt a rush of pleasure and heat pass through the throbbing flesh below the tight skin.
"Kneel before me," he ordered.
Erin hastened to obey, though it was awkward with her arms pinned behind her, and in the extra high heels. She was soon kneeling before him, however, eyes upraised hopefully.
"Your name is Irish. Whatever your previous name you will forget it ever existed, just as you will forget the life you once lived ever existed. You are no longer Prisoner eight, two seven six one, for you have been released to me. Your name is Irish, now, and you will obey me utterly, at all times, in all things.
His eyes narrowed darkly and Erin wished there were a way for her to reassure him that of course she would obey him completely.
The man held up a key and showed it to her. "This is the key to the strap which is buckled tightly around your mouth," he said.
He then held up a second key. "This is the key to the leather arm sleeve binding your arms behind you."
Then a third key. "This is the key to your collar."
He stepped to the side, where there was a hole for a drain, the kind of hold she had been using for toilets for - for what seemed like forever. He dropped the keys down into the hole, and smiled thinly at her.
"They will never be removed. Ever," he said. "I have decided you have no need of them. You can function in the only manner necessary for you just as you are."
He stepped back to her and unsnapped the dildo in her mouth, then began to draw it up and down, pumping it slowly in the kneeling girl's throat, using long, steady strokes as he stared down at her.
"Your mouth needs only to be used for this," he said. "And what nourishment you require can be fed to you through the ring holding your mouth open."
He drove the dildo deep, once more, then gripped her hair and dragged her to her feet before him. He produced a riding crop from somewhere and bent her head back. "Spread your legs, Irish slut."
Erin obeyed, moaning, and then gasped in pain as the crop snapped up against her swollen clit with painful force.
"Do you like that, little Irish slut?" the man whispered, his eyes close to hers as he held her head back by the hair.
Again the crop slapped against her clit, and again, and again, in a hard, steady series that sent pain flaring wildly within her. Yet the hunger in her body only intensified. Even as her eyes began to fill with tears at the pain and discomfort her leather-clad hips began to buck and roll in helpless abandon.
He stopped, turned her around, and gripped the base of the leather sleeve, then raised it high, forcing her to bend at the waist. There was a hook above, and he fastened it to the ring set in the base of the sleeve to hold her in position. He then took a cord and bound it to the ring piercing her clit, feeding it back and down behind her.
He undid the lace holding the thick dildo inside her and slowly tugged and twisted it out, pulling it free. She felt a sense of wonderful relief as the tension in her sex was allowed to be released. A moment later his own cock thrust into the girl, and he began to pump.
Erin's mind filled with bliss at the penetration, and yet pain rose even higher, for every time his hips struck her body she was jerked forward against the taut pull of the leather against her clit. Her clitoris stretched painfully out behind her until he pulled back, but even as her bottom leapt back his hips smacked against it again, driving her forward.
Again and again she felt the hard, stinging pains to her clit as the man rutting into her send her hips lurching forward. Each thrust drew a muffled cry of pain from around the fat dildo in her mouth, and tears began to flow from her eyes. But even so the passion and hunger rose to levels so intense they overwhelmed all else, and she felt herself awash in maddened sexual desire, deliberately allowing herself to be flung forward harder than his thrusts would have accomplished, stretching and straining her burning clitoris that much more painfully.
"Filthy little Irish bitch!" she heard him gasp as he drove himself into her with all his might.
But his words were a blur through the haze of passion and pain gripping her, hardly understood at all as she gave herself to the wild animal lust and screamed in joyous release that almost dropped her to her knees, almost tore her arms out of their sockets.
His hips continued to hammer against her upraised bottom as his hands came around beneath her and dug into her swollen breasts like claws, squeezing and twisting and mauling them. Erin's eyes crossed and she felt herself floating dazedly, her body jerking violently as he continued to ride her, her clit burning and aching until with a final flurry he halted and pulled out.
She felt the arm sleeve release, and his strong hands on her hair jerked her back, forcing her to her knees.
He yanked the dildo out of her mouth and held his cock before the narrow round opening of her gag, squeezing his cock until it began spurting its white seed into the hole. Erin tasted it on her tongue, felt it flowing through her mouth, and swallowed instinctively as he continued to spurt.
Finally, only a small dribble dropped into the open mouthpiece, and he sighed and stepped back.
"I have always hated the Irish, for some reason," he said. "I recognize it is unreasonable. But at my age, and with the power at my disposal, I am free to indulge my vices. So I will punish you because it gives me pleasure to punish the Irish, to hurt them, to cause them pain, to demean and degrade them."
Erin knelt, knees well apart, head back, and when he stepped back and pressed his now soft cock against the opening of her gag she made no benefit to resist. Not even when a stream of hot urine streamed out and filled her mouth with its acrid taste and smell. She swallowed, and swallowed, and swallowed again as he continued to empty his bladder into her mouth.
And though she felt a wave of distaste and disgust, another storm of masochistic pleasure rolled over her at so degrading herself, and she moaned weakly as she drank the last of his urine and watched him do up his zipper.
He bent and picked up the eighteen inch flexible dildo, then fed it slowly through the open hold, into her mouth, and down her throat. He snapped the snaps to lock it in place and then bade her rise and bend. Then he thrust the other dildo, the hard one, deep into her aching pussy once more, twisting and turning, pushing and slapping until it was all-but buried in place.
Then he snapped a leash to the ring piercing her clitoris, gave it a sharp tug that almost dropped her to her knees in pain, and turned to walk away. Moaning, Erin scurried after, the leash tugging painfully on her clitoris.
They went down a long, dimly lit hall, and she struggled to keep up on her high stiletto heels. A visored, black-clad man at the far end opened a door, and they stepped out into a moonlit night.
They were in a small car park, though there was only one vehicle present, a large cube van. The rear doors opened, and she was permitted to see that inside were two rows of benches along the walls. Three nude girls sat on each bench, strapped tightly in place. All were gagged, and their eyes rolled towards her as Erin was lifted up among them.
She was not permitted to sit, however, but instead was turned and the men framed her, reaching above her and tugging up the braid of hair.

Hannah and the other girls stared at the new girl. Her body was squeezed into extraordinarily tight leather. Her waist looked impossibly tiny. Instead of a ball gag she had a flat black strap covering her mouth, but Hannah knew that she must also have some kind of gag inside from the soft muffled sounds the redhead made when the men shifted and turned her.
Her hair was pulled into a long, thick braid, but at the very top of her head rather than the rear, which was more normally the case. Now she and the other gagged girls watched as the braid was lifted straight up and bound round and round with cord.
And then, slowly, the girl was lifted off her toes to dangling there by her hair. She moaned and squirmed and made muffled crying sounds, but she could clearly do nothing, as anyone could see. She hung in place, trembling and shaking and moaning, her eyes rolling wildly, as the men fastened a pair of thin chains to her nipple rings, then fed them back to the rear of the van on either side of the doors.
Another line was attached to her clit ring, and that too was fed back, to a ring set in the floor at the very rear of the van.
Then a blindfold was placed over the girl's eyes. One of the men gave her swollen breasts a squeeze, and they left, closing the doors behind them. The van started up, and the six girls inside stared at the seventh as she swayed in place, hanging from her hair.
The lines to her nipples and clit kept her pointed at the rear of the van, and as the van braked for something all the girls understood the pressure on her clit and nipples was growing, could see the girl's lower body beginning to tilt, then her body trembling as her clit and nipples were stretched out. The other girls watched warily, anxiously, fearfully, wondering if this was to be their fate as well.

Erin shuddered as the truck slowed. The braking motion had her hanging body pull forward, and the only thing holding her back were the lines attached to her nipple and clit rings. She hung in the middle of the small, box-like van - by the hair. Her hair had been gathered together and braided at the very top of her head, and now it was bound with cord and attached to a ring in the roof of the cube van.
She faced backward, and three lines attached to the rear wall were attached to her rings. Her legs were parted a little, unable to quite close because of the thick girth of the dildos jammed into her pussy and anus, their ends protruding, pushing out against her sex lips, against her buttocks. She wanted to look down and stare, to see if they were as thick as before.
But, of course, even if she had not been blindfolded, she could not look down. She could not turn her head in any direction. Her head was locked firmly in place by the pull on her hair. And the real pain, of course, came from her scalp, from thousands of needles of stinging, aching tension.
And yet, she felt a sense of sexual heat gripping her, a sense of lewd dark, hungry sexual excitement. It was so shocking and wicked and nasty to be hung by her hair like this! What more would they soon be doing to her, these cruel, terrible men!?
The van braked and her body weight pulled her back against the lines. She moaned around the penis gag stuffed into her mouth and down her throat as the tension on her clit and nipples became fierce and painful. Her body swung slowly forward, her ankles locked together, her nipples and clitoris stretching out farther and farther as she trembled and shook in pain - and pleasure.
Then the truck finally stopped.
The pressure eased to the point it might as well be gone, and she felt the intense rush of pain-relief flood her body. Her pussy muscles spasmed helplessly around the huge dildo they had driven up into her belly, and the cramps from her overstuffed anal cavity added to the sensory overload spilling through her nervous system.
The truck started forward, and her legs swung slowly forward - towards the rear of the van. This stopped the pull on her clitoris completely and eased the pull on her nipples as well. But soon her legs swung back and the pressure resumed. Beneath the blindfold her eyes were slitted, and she grunted dazedly as the pain returned, but it was a light pain, a pain she had been dealing with since they had hooked her up.
And now it doubled, tripled, and more, as the van braked. Her eyes widened and her body shook violently as the momentum pulled her forward and her clitoris and nipples were stretched to the tearing point. She cried out in anguish, in desperation, the pain mounting to unendurable levels as sweat poured down over her body.
And then it eased, and she let out an enormous groan of relief, her throbbing clit and nipples sending surging waves of pleasure through her body and mind.



Chapter Nine

The door was swung back and Hannah blinked out into the sunlight as two men in black jumpsuits climbed in and reached for the first girl sitting on the bench. They removed the straps criss crossing her chest, then the one across her hips and the one across her ankles. Finally they removed the strap across her forehead and lifted her slowly up off the foot long dildo which had been impaling her. She was handed down to another man outside the truck, and they turned to Hannah.
Hannah was, like the other six girls present, strapped immovably to the bench which ran along the inside of the van. She too was impaled on a long, thick dildo. Like the other girls she had a thick ball gag shoved into her mouth and held in place by a strap around her head. Like the others she had been drooling down the front of her chest for the past hour and a half as the truck had trundled along.
The only girl who had been treated differently was the blindfolded girl in leather who had been hanging by her hair. All of the girls had looked at her, had watched her and wondered, had winced each time the truck braked to see her body swinging slowly away from the lines attached to her clitoris and nipples. They had all noted the enormous girth of the black dildos protruding from her pussy and anal opening, so thick they kept her legs apart.
She wondered what the girl had done bad.
The men leaned over her and she was unstrapped, and then raised slowly up off the thick dildo, gasping into the gag as she felt the relentless pressure against her cervix finally ease and her stretched out pussy walls close.
The two men half carried, half dragged her to the rear and she was handed down to another large, visored man standing there. Once outside she stared around, eyes squinting in disbelief.
It was an honest to goodness castle, Hannah thought, looking around her at the tall walls and towers. That, at least, was in keeping with her medieval training. For she wore an iron collar around her throat, and her wrists and elbows were shackled together behind her back. Her ankles were also shackled, with a foot long chain separating them, allowing her to walk, but in small steps.
The third girl was handed down, a black girl, the one they called nigger as if it were her name. She winced slightly as the visored man attached a clip to her clit ring, tugged lightly, and ran the other end between the first girl's legs to attach to her clit ring. He then attached another short length of light chain to her clit ring and fed it back between her legs to Nigger's clit.
With six girls neatly in line, clit rings clipped together by light chain, the man attached a final chain, a leash, to the first girl in line, and then led them off across the small courtyard towards a distant doorway. Hannah turned her head and saw the truck go back through a large open door and across a small bridge. Then the bridge rose up as the doors slid closed, and the sense of finality made her chest lurch.
The six girls shuffled in line towards the doorway, then, once inside, up a low set up stairs and along a narrow stone corridor. The preceded down this long corridor for almost a full minute before turning into a small doorway and descending a rounded staircase. Down, down, down they descended, and Hannah felt a sense of oppressive weight over her head as they plunged deeper below the castle.
Save for the clinking of their chains and the moist sound of the girls breathing around their saliva coated ball gags, and the occasional yelp as one girl got too far behind or ahead of another and clits were tugged sharply the journey was in silence.
They found themselves in another narrow corridor, this one of ancient stones, and this led them into a large open room. It was of dark stone, lit by bare bulbs. Hannah wondered that it wasn't lit by actual flaming torches. Yet it seemed quite frightening even as it was.
Two more black-clad men awaited them, and, one by one, each girl was removed from the little line. Her steel shackles and collars were removed, replaced by padded leather. Then they were stood in a horizontal line, arms raised high above their heads, wrists bound together to a chain hanging overhead. When all six girls were bound thusly the men moved to a wall where a small metal box sat, and there was a machine sound somewhere in the dim shadows behind them.
The chains rose, lifting the girls off their toes and letting them dangle, moaning, twitching and slowly turning in place as the men turned and left.
The bare bulbs which had lit the room went out, leaving them in what Hannah first thought was complete darkness. However, after a minute or two her eyes adjusted and she saw there were three small pale panels of light around the square room. They were very dim, but allowed her to see the forms of the other girls hanging there with her, if nothing else.
Her wrists ached. Her shoulders ached. She moaned into the gag, blinking her eyes in the near darkness, wondering what awaited them. Why had they been hung like this? She had done her very best to obey and to please them. Had she done something wrong without knowing it? She felt a hard, aching knot in her belly at the thought of having failed to please them.
She looked down the length of her body at her toes. They seemed so very far below, and yet she could just barely see, in the dim light, that they were mere inches above the floor. They twitched and her toes opened and closed as if they were searching for support underneath. Her body swayed slowly in place, and she moaned into the gag again, echoing the sounds coming from the other girls as they hung in place.
On her right, a blonde girl was sobbing weakly. On her left was a raven haired beauty whose large eyes looked startled and disbelieving as she stared around her. She moved more than the other girls, her legs kicking out weakly, her body twisting, her body pulling as if she thought she might somehow get off the hook and free herself.
Her shoulders and arms hurt more, her wrists burning. How long would they hang there, she wondered.

The pressure on her scalp was removed and Erin felt such a wave of relief that had anyone brushed a thumb across her swollen clitoris she would have likely climaxed immediately. Instead, she felt a pull at her clit, and shuffled forward blindly, feeling the warmth of sun on her skin, but unable to see a thing. She followed the pull on her clit, moaning around the latex cock stuffed down her throat, whimpering and gasping in pain as she danced along trying to ease the pressure on her clit.
The man holding her leash led her across a stone courtyard of some kind, and then stopped. She stopped as well as she heard him speaking to someone, another man, who spoke back. Someone caressed her breasts as she stood blindly, obediently waiting, then a finger slipped down to stroke across her clit and she could not resist rutting against it.
"Hot little slut, isn't she," a male voice said.
"She's a pain slut, specially conditioned," said another.
"I'll bet she'll be popular."
"She's to be Sir James' personal possession, though I have no doubt he'll loan her out often enough. He's a very accommodating gentleman."
Erin felt her hips roll and buck against the stroking fingers as heat flooded her belly. But then the hand was withdrawn and the pull on her clit made her moan in pain as she lurched forward.
She followed the silent, insistent pull, her stiletto heels clicking on stone as she hurried along, her breathing ragged around the thick latex cock filling her throat. Then they stopped.
"Here she is, Sir James," a voice said.
"Yes, thank you so much. I'll take her from here."
"Of course."
She recognized the second voice. It was the man who had claimed her as his own. And a moment later the blindfold was removed and she saw him.
"Well, Irish, you arrived in one piece," he said, giving her breast a rather painful squeeze. Let's see what we can do to welcome you to your new home."
He tugged on her leash and then continued down what turned out to be an elegantly designed hall, then through a door and across the marble floor of a narrow corridor. They passed through an ornate doorway and then up a long, winding stone staircase which seemed to circle again and again.
They emerged finally in a rounded room, a room with stone walls and floors and nothing approaching comfort within sight.
On a small, square platform she was made to squat, and the dildo was pulled free of her pussy. She was then made to straddle a rounded metal tube which, like a pyramid, grew wider and wider towards the bottom. She sank her pussy down on it without protest, though her mind was filled with both anxiety and fear.
The first few inches were no wider than a man's cock, but by the time she got six inches down it was as thick as a man's wrist. The resistance then grew to such an extent that she could almost sit on it without sliding lower. But the man did not seem to care. He raised two hinged frames on either side of her, and Erin saw they were like the sides of a cage, with thick metal bars.
He parted her hair, humming to himself, drawing it into two pigtails to either side, and bound them to one of the centre bars, painfully tightly. Although she could not move her head she felt another side of the cage raised behind her and locked in place. Her legs were forced wider, so that her knees were pressed against the sides of the cage, and strapped in place, then with hardly a warning at all the man squeezed the areola of one nipple and slowly forced the sharp end of a rounded hook up through her nipple, piercing it from side to side.
He let the chain attached to the hook fall against her belly, then did the same to her other nipple, ignoring her moans of pain. He gripped both chains and pulled them outward, then raised up the fourth side of the cage, drawing the cords tighter, stretching her nipples out until they were quivering. Then he tired them to the bars in front of her. Finally, he swung the top of the cage up and forward, drawing it down. He reached through it, and Erin discovered he had parted her hair not into two, but three tails. One was at the top of her head, and he now drew it straight up, though not tautly, and bound it to a bar above her.
And then, without a word, he left.
There were four windows in the round room, all of them tall, but narrow. Moonlight streamed through them, however, just enough for her to see the cage bars before her as she moaned weakly and felt her pussy slipping lower and lower on the metal tube. Soon it was as wide as a Champaign bottle.
And now she felt the merest quiver, the merest buzzing, the slightest vibration below her. Her pussy gaped, sex lips stretching wide, straining around the wide round metal stake impaling her. She had sunk low enough now that the single tail of hair leading straight up was taut and starting to hurt. The two tails pulled out to either side were even worse, her scalp burning.
Yet her legs were too weak to hold her up in the awkward kneeling position, and slowly she sank lower, her sex lips straining wider, burning with pain.
And then she felt it. There was a small, quivering metal wire thrusting upwards, a thick, hard wire not much thicker than a pencil lead. It was vibrating furiously.
Her sex lips were now stretched so wide, squeezing so tightly around the metal tube that in combination with the terrible pulling on her hair, it was just enough to prevent her from sinking lower. The wire was just barely touching her swollen clitoris, however, and Erin's mind and body were so well-conditioned that
Her pussy began to ooze liquid around the thick tube.
With helpless, feverish need, she began to struggle to push herself lower, to press her clitoris harder against the vibrating wire. Even though doing so sent a thousand needles of pain through her scalp, and stretched her sex lips to agonizing width she could not stop herself. Even though doing so jammed her soft, sensitive clitoris against the hard, relatively sharp end of the wire - with stinging, painful results, she could not stop.
Her eyes rolled and she gurgled helplessly around the thick dildo filling her throat, and now she began to arch her back again and again, pulling her nipples against the wires impaling them with sharp, stinging tugs even as she rolled her hips and tried to jam her pussy down harder on the wire.
Again and again the hard, unyielding wire jabbed into the soft clitoris which was held taut by the laces of her cat suit, and as her agonizing pleasure mounted the helpless girl's body began to jerk and rut with increasing frenzy so that, as the massive orgasm swept through her she screamed in mindless bliss, and jammed herself down with such strength the wire pierced her clitoris and slid through.
The pain was horrible, the pleasure - indescribable.
Her body trembled violently as she jerked her clitoris back and forth on the impaling wire, orgiastic wonder racing through her mind.

Keri hung still, like the other girls, moaning into her gag. Her blonde hair was plastered against her scalp and her body dripped sweat. It was warm in the room, but the terrible strain of hanging by her wrists was what was really causing the sweat. She had never imagined it would be so difficult to hang from her wrists. Yet it had proven to be. For she could not simply hang limp. She had discovered - as had the other young girls alongside her - that she could not simply hang limp and breath. She must work her muscles every time she took a breath. She must pull herself against the restraints around her burning, aching wrists, lift herself up very slightly. She did not understand why, only that it was so.
And so, for what seemed hours now, the beautiful young girls, all slender, none muscular, had been forced to work their tired muscles with every breath, and those efforts had worn them down, exhausted and drained them. Their lithe young bodies all glistened with sweat as they hung as still as possible from the chains over their heads, swaying slowly, toes inches from the stone below.
And now the lights came up, and hope surged in their tired minds. But the hope was short-lived as they watched a single enormous man in black enter the room. The lights were turned up, and he walked slowly up and down the line of hanging bodies, a long thin crop in his hand.
He stopped before the first girl. Although she was suspended by her wrists his head was still taller, still looked down on her. He reached out a gloved hand and ran it slowly over her taut breasts, down her belly and between her legs. The girl whimpered as his hand closed, her legs twisting and jerking as he applied pressure.
Then he drew back a step and moved further along the line, stopping before a girl with lovely brown hair. He hooked a finger into her clit ring and pulled slowly, pulled strongly enough that her lower torso began to swing toward him. The other girls could all hear her shrill cry of pain through her gag, and, apparently in desperation, she swung her legs forward and wrapped them around him.
He flung them off, and grasped her body, swinging it violently, setting it to spinning around and around and around. He placed the riding crop into a sort of holster at his belt and drew out a long, many thronged whip. Then he drew back his arm and the whip slashed out, clawing at her back as it faced him.
Keri winced and moaned into her own gag, her head turned to watch, her eyes frightened, wondering if all of them would be punished like the brown-haired girl. She could not beg, could not throw herself at his feet, could not offer him her body, for she was helpless to communicate with him at all.
The whip slashed out again and again and again, and the brown haired girl's body began to show the criss-crossing red welts as it sliced into the soft flesh of her belly and back, and even her breasts. Only when her screams stopped did he slow his whipping, and move on to the next girl.
That was a black, and he stood before her for a long moment, then reached down and slipped a finger into her clit ring, pulling slowly towards him. The girl made no effort to resist, though her legs spread apart and her feet trembled and shook. He released her clit and she swung slowly back. He drew the riding crop from his belt and let the slapper at the head rub lightly across her nipples.
"Do not move, slave," he ordered.
The word - startled - Kerry. She felt a shock, a jolt to her mind, to her psyche, a sudden breathlessness that she sensed was echoed in the other girls there.
Slave.
Slave!?
She felt dazed by the enormity of the word, of the implications of the word. She could not say how or why it changed anything. But the word shocked her nonetheless.
She stared at the man as he began to use the little leather slapper on the end to spank the black girl's nipples. The soft leather slapped down in short, rapid arcs as the girl held herself still, moaning only lightly as he shifted from one nipple to the other.
Then he nodded his head.
"Good girl. Good slave. Now hold still again."
He drew back a little more, and shifted his hand further down the length of the crop. His arm pulled back, and then swung forward very fast. This time it was the shaft of the crop which sliced across the girl's breast, and much more violently. The soft meaty crack of sound seemed to take Keri's breath away as the black girl cried out in pain.
Her body shook, but she made no effort to resist as he drew back his arm and slashed the crop down upon her other breast with equal force.
"Good girl," he said. "Good slave."
He moved to the next girl.
Keri was the next girl, and she stared at him fearfully, trying to convey with her eyes that she would obey anything, do anything to please him.
He reached between her legs and slipped a gloved finger through the ring, then slowly pulled. Keri thought about the girl she'd seen in the van, and tried to brace herself. The girl had survived it. Her clit had not torn free. Neither would Keri's. But as the pain mounted, as it began a razor sharp spike in that so desperately vulnerable part of her body she felt herself trembling and shaking, her teeth biting into the gag filling her mouth as pain consumed her.
"Good girl," he said, easing his pull.
Relief flooded her, both mental and physical. She moaned and resumed breathing as he rubbed the flat head of the crop against her taut breasts.
"Good slave."
Another jolt hit her. Slave? She was a slave!? What did he mean? What could he mean? What...
"Do not move," he ordered.
And she again braced herself as the flat leather began to slap stingingly against her nipple. Her nipple began to burn and throb, and she bit into her gag again, desperate to obey, knowing she would be punished much more severely if she failed.
He transferred his attention to her other nipple, and she groaned as that took the brunt of the attack, the little crop slapping viciously down across her sensitive nipple, which soon swelled and burned like the first.
And without even realizing it her knees were drawing upwards, an almost instinctive effort to draw her body into the fetal position.
"Bad girl," he said, slapping at her knees.
Instantly, Keri dropped her legs flat again, feeling a wave of horror at having disobeyed him.
"Do not move," he said again very firmly.
He drew back and she tried to brace herself as the crop sliced through the air. It cut into her left breast like a knife, and the line of pain flared wildly within her body. Yet she held still save for trembling. The crop sliced into her other breast, this time cutting right across her already throbbing, pain-filled nipple. She cried out, but held her body still.
Another blow, this one diagonally across her belly, made her shudder, and brought tears to her eyes. Another blow across her breasts, and then another, made her tremble and shake and sob. But she held still.
"Good girl," he said. "Good slave."
She felt a massive sense of relief as he moved on to the next girl.
Her breasts ached, but she had obeyed.



Chapter Ten

"Massa? Massa? Nigga girl suck you cock, Massa?" Lisa asked hopefully, a bright smile on her lovely face.
She wore heavy shackles on wrists and ankles, and an iron collar around her throat. Heavy chains linked them together, and they clanked as she moved. Lord Winter, her master, had told her they had been in his family for many, many years, back to the day his ancestor had made the family fortune trading slaves from Africa to America.
She had been shown old videos how slaves spoke in eighteenth and nineteenth century American plantations, and instructed to assume the accent and mannerisms she saw demonstrated there. Apparently Lord Winters was much taken with that image of Blacks. Slavery, Lord Winters said, was the natural place of the negro, and should never have been rescinded.
She herself was the obvious example of what happened to negros when they were allowed to their own devices. They became criminals, useless dregs of society. She should, he said, be happy to have someone taking care of her now and to have something useful to do with her life.
She was his nigger house slave, he had told her. She cleaned and scrubbed - on all fours, of course - his lavish suite in the castle, and serviced he and his friends sexually.
Lisa had known racists, of course, but never had she had the misfortune to experience one such as Lord Winters who had the full power to indulge his views without any fear of judgment from his peers.
As she scuttled along by his side, cringing and fawning over any man he pointed out to her there was little anger in her soul, nor any particular outrage at the indignities and degradation. Lisa cared only about obeying so that she would be free of pain, so that she would be fed, and perhaps given a treat, a sweet, rather than a whipping.
All her concerns in the world had narrowed to pleasing Lord Winters.
Men openly fondled and squeezed her bare breasts, kneaded her buttocks, or ran fingers along her shaven sex, but she felt no sense of outrage or indignation. She smiled hopefully, giggling stupidly whenever someone made an insulting or racist comment. She wanted only to please them. Nothing else mattered.

Keri carried a tray of drinks through the enormous room. She wore stiletto heels and a high rising blue thong. The bra she wore left her breasts bare, merely lifting and squeezing them together, presenting them up on a platter, so to speak, for the inspection of the men around her. There was a thin blue, see-through veil across her breasts, but this served only to colour them, not hide one inch of their taut surface or the hardness of her pert young nipples.
"Your drinks masters," she said with a bright, happy, friendly smile on her face as she placed the two crystal glasses on the table before two middle aged men.
They hardly acknowledged her except to look her over with their eyes. She beamed at them as she bobbed her head, backed away, and hurried on to the next table, clearing it rapidly, cleaning it, then moving on to a pair of men who had sat down at another table.
"Yes, masters?' she asked, beaming happily again.
It was so strange, that she was back in the waitressing business. Though, of course, she had never imagined she would be waitressing in such a revealing outfit, nor that she would be utterly at the mercy of the customers.
It felt odd, actually, to be wearing any clothes, even such revealing clothes. Though, of course, these were designed to highlight, rather than hide her body.
"Are you being used tonight?"
"Not yet, master," she said, smiling eagerly.
"Room ninety two."
"Yes, master. Thank you, master! I hope I can please you, master!"
"Get us a couple of scotches, slut."
'Yes, master!" she said eagerly, bobbing her head, turning, and hurrying to the bar.
Being a new girl she was particularly popular with the men, and had yet to spent an evening or night locked down, along with those other girls who were not spoken for.
It was unpleasant spending the night alone. Those slaves who were not being used were given bent over and strapped on their bare bottoms, given bland food and then locked in tiny cells far below after their work periods had ended. Often their wrists were locked behind them so they were unable to even pleasure themselves, but must lay on their cot in the darkness wishing they were upstairs.
For if they were chosen they could be sitting on the floor beside one of the men as he watched television, or draped across his lap being fondled and fingered, or being fed sweets. The men's egos seemed to be flattered when they pleased their little slave girls sexually, so most made some effort in that direction. And to girls whose only pleasure came through sex, whose minds had been conditioned to destroy all inhibitions that attention usually brought them to squirming, moaning climax fairly easily.
Besides, many men chose more than one girl, and liked to watch the girls pleasure each other. The feel of soft, warm, writhing flesh against her body on a warm, brightly lit rug was far more pleasant than laying alone in the dark.
Upstairs was music, and colour, and warmth, and dancing, and conversation, and interesting things to see and eat, and sexual pleasure. Down below was nothing but cold, quiet darkness and the oppressive sense of thousands of tons of stone overhead. It did not occur to her for a single moment that the men who now owned her wanted it that way in order to further condition her mind. She was beyond thinking of such things.
All she knew was that it was the most important thing in the world to please the men - the masters.

Hannah stood upright behind the desk, the check in counter, as it were, the smile never leaving her face. Her glossy brown hair was perfectly brushed, and caressed the long tailed black silk tuxedo jacket she wore. She had nothing beneath that jacket. It was held closed by a single button so that showed a considerable amount of cleavage between the two sides.
She wore a silk bow tie around her otherwise bare throat, and a black G-string which cut up across her shapely hips. Aside from her stiletto heels she was otherwise nude. She stood behind the counter with a buxom Asian girl who had the same bright, helpful smile on her face as she awaited the inquiries of one of the masters.
Hannah had found a job, but not what she had been looking for when the police had originally arrested her. It paid nothing, but she no longer cared about money. She cared about pleasing the masters in any way they desired.
A distinguished looking, middle aged man entered the great hall from the front courtyard and she and the Asian girl, Kimmy, both stiffened slightly.
But it was Kimmy's turn, unless the man chose to speak to Hannah first, so she merely smiled happily as Kimmy shifted forward to help the man. He stopped and looked behind him, and another, much younger man came in after him. The family resemblance was rather clear.
"... don't worry about that, Paul. I told you, they'll take care of it."
The two men came up to the counter, the young one not much over twenty staring pop-eyed at the two lovely, half-dressed girls as his father handed a card to Kimmy.
"Thank you, Master!" she said in a happy, delighted voice.
"Roger Stirling with a visitor, my son Paul. You'll find his temporary accreditation is already set up."
The younger man's eyes swiveled furiously back and forth between the two girls.
"Nice, eh?" the older man said. "You want one. They're slaves. Just say the word and they'll bend over and spread `em."
The younger man looked slightly embarrassed at the older man's words.
"You girl," the older man, Stirling, said to Hannah.
"Yes, master!" she answered perkily.
"Come around here."
"Yes, master!"
She hurried around the counter to stand in front of him, and the man reached into her mostly open jacket, openly fondling her breasts. He opened the front and squeezed them together, showing them to his son.
"Nice tits, eh? Give a feel."
The young man's face reddened. "I uhm."
"Go ahead."
"Oh please, master!" Hannah said encouragingly.
The man licked his lips, then reached in and gently caressed Hannah's breasts. She moaned softly, and pushed her breasts into his hands and, encouraged, he kneaded them and flicked his fingers across her nipples.
"She'll do anything you want, literally anything. She'll drop to her knees and blow you right here. Or you can take her up to your room and whip her tight little ass, then bugger her."
The younger man's face was reddening again, but he seemed very excited at the words.
"I'll do anything you want, master," Hannah said, adding a little throaty sensuality to her perky demeanor.
"Wh-what's your name?" he asked.
"I'm Hannah, master," she said.
She wanted to ask him if he wanted to take her that night, or that very minute, but asking invariably drew a beating. Slaves were not permitted to ask for anything at all. The masters did not want to be pestered all day long by girls eager for their attention.
"Take Paul to his room and make him happy," the man's father said. "Room twenty nine."
"Yes, master!" Hannah said eagerly.
It was not her job to show the men to their rooms, but of course, she must do anything she was instructed to do.
The older man wandered into the man bar as Hannah strolled to the lift and stepped in, the younger man following.
"I can really do anything I want to you?" he demanded eagerly.
"I'll do anything you want, master," Hannah said perkily.
She led him down the lushly carpeted hall to the suite set aside for him and then into it.
"This is your suite, master," she said.
"Take off your clothes," he blurted.
"Yes, master."
She immediately removed the tuxedo jacket, then stepped out of the G-string to stand posing coyly before him.
"How about sucking my cock," he asked eagerly.
"Yes, master!"
She slid to her knees before him and rubbed her face along his thigh, her hands gently stroking his groin and working open his zipper and belt. She soon had his trousers down and his cock in her mouth. He moaned as he squeezed his hands on her head, pumping in and out of her mouth, and his legs all-but collapsed as she took him deep into her throat.
He came, splashing down into her tummy, but she knew well how to bring him to life again, and soon did. Then it was her time to groan in pleasure as he roughly thrust himself into her and rode her violently, his cock plunging into her again and again as he crushed his lips against hers.

Keri had quite literally been impaled. A long, gleaming wooden stake had been pushed beneath her, and she had been lowered onto it. This was not the kind of take meant for executions, however. At its tip the stake was as thick as a very wide penis, but then widened considerably thereafter. And once the tip had jammed against her cervix her weight forced it to retract into the main body of the stake - or post, which she was impaled upon.
That post was so wide, so thick that her legs were forced out wide to either side. And when the top had been pushed back the remainder was flat against her insides so that while it hurt terribly, there was no danger of it being forced up into her and causing permanent damage.
Her ankles were chained to the post just above the floor, and while her breasts were bound in cords of rope and pulled forward, her body was bowed backwards, her head forced so far back it was upside down between her shoulder blades.
With the ring holding her mouth open continually, as her master had promised would always be the case, her mouth and throat were roughly used by the half dozen or so male guests in his suite. She was left in place, thereafter, as the naked young slave girls from below took turns pleasing them and each other, and the men spoke, laughed, told jokes and played cards.
When the men came to Erin it was to use her open mouth as a toilet, to empty their urine down her throat.
Having had no water or liquid of any kind for two days, however, Erin greeted each stream of warm yellow liquid with delight, swallowing it excitedly.
Her belly ached terribly, and her breasts were on fire, but that did not feel as important as slaking her terrible thirst. Besides, she had been whipped day after day since she had arrived. Literally every inch of her body bore welts large and small from the various whips her master had used on her. There were burns on her nipples and breasts from cigarettes, and red rings around all of her toes and fingers where cords had been tied and pulled taut so as to hang her horizontally in mid air.
She had also been hanged by the throat, several times, for the amusement of Sir James and his friends, hanged until her twitching, quivering body had finally gone still, as her inability to breath had finally robbed her of consciousness.
Yet she had come to see that as almost a reward rather than a punishment. It involved no real pain, after all, and with her head throbbing and pounding and the ever present dildo and vibrator rousing her body to insatiable sexual hunger she had never failed to climax repeatedly while hanging from the neck.
It was so wicked, so cruel, and she felt so victimized, so masochistically delighted that she nearly swooned with excitement each time the rope closed around her neck and lifted her gently from her toes. The danger that something would go wrong and she might actually die for real only added to her dark, wicked excitement.
She watched the dozen people cavorting behind her, head pounding, breasts burning, moaning softly into the funnel, until two of the black clad male servitors finally came for her, lifting her off the stake and carrying her over to the crowd. She was placed on her knees, her face against the floor as several of the girls fisted her pussy and anus.
Then she rolled onto her back, spreading her legs wide, eagerly lifting her hips up as the girls whipped her clitoris with riding crops, sending shattering blasts of pleasure, excitement and pain through her dazed mind.
Then, with the same caprice which caused him to give her pain, her master signaled one of the girls forward.
"Lick the little slut's pussy. Make her come," he ordered.
The girl immediately took Erin's swollen clitoris into her mouth and began to suckle and lick. And within seconds Erin was squirming and mewling in uncontrolled bliss.
"Bite. Hard," Sir James ordered.
The girl obeyed, of course, and Erin's legs shot straight out, her hips jerking violently as she screamed in pain.
"Now pleasure her," he said.
Shuddering, breathless, Erin again began to moan and roll her hips as the girl sucked and licked at her clit, taking it entirely into her mouth, massaging it with her tongue and lips.
Then two more girls were sent to similarly suckle and lick at her nipples and breasts, and, just like the first, their licking and sucking gave way to terribly painful bites whenever he laughingly ordered it.
But Erin didn't mind. Pain was pleasure and pleasure was pain, and she no longer could tell the difference as she bucked and shook and writhed in maddened passion and need.

Wendy cursed mildly and picked up a towel to wipe the dirt away from the front of her blouse. She had been without work for many months, and alone in London after leaving her small town to make her way in life. Now she had finally obtained decent work in a lovely little flower shop. The pay wasn't the best, but it was surprisingly generous given her lack of experience at such things as repotting plants, which she was attempting to do now.
It was quite interesting, and she hoped that she might learn enough from the elderly owner, Mr. Bradshaw, to open her own shop one day. That was far in the future, of course. Wendy was barely nineteen, and what she was really interest in at the moment was partying.
Though she wore jeans and tank top now she spent most nights in tight minis and cleavage baring tops dancing and partying at the local discos and clubs. She was young and beautiful and delighting in the anonymity of the big city. She had always been proud of her buxom body, and now she was exploring how much of it she dared show off in public.
"Excuse me, miss, but we've had a complaint."
Wendy looked up in surprise, then alarm as two stern looking police constables entered the little flower shop. The lovely little blonde girl hurried around the counter, as one of the policemen turned the "open" sign around in the shop window.
"A complaint? What kind of complaint?" she asked in surprise.
One of the policemen made his way into the back of the shop, and Wendy, confused, followed. He opened a small side door, and sure enough, there were shelves filled with plants - plants she did not recognize - and then did.
"Growing marihuana," he said, looking at her sternly.
"B-But - I had no idea!" Wendy cried. "I've only been working here a week and that cupboard was always locked!"
But they would have none of it. She was ordered to stand against a counter and spread her legs, then humiliated as one of the men frisked her for weapons. She had felt mortified, and yet, oddly, a strange dark little thrill when his hands had moved firmly over her breasts and bottom and groin.
Shortly afterwards she was led out the rear door in handcuffs, frightened, bewildered, indignant, and trying tearfully to make her case for innocence.
The policemen showed no interest as they took her away.

End

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