Collected by Djian
feb 21 - 2007
This story is redistributed with permission from BDSMbooks
Find other stories from Mark Slade at bdsmbooks.com
(M+/fff, nc, aduct, slavery, D/s, humil, piercing, branded, modif, arab, rough)
SLAVE FROM THE OFFICE
by Mark Slade
Copyright resides with author
Downloaded from bdsmbooks.com
Chapter One:
Allowing herself a wide unladylike yawn, Devon Tyler moved languorously, between her soft, smooth, black bed-sheets. Like a cat, she savoured the invigorating stretch of her sleek well toned body, and slowly let her deep azure eyes flicker open. Another small yawn and then she smiled, as she looked around the familiar luxury of her surroundings.
A deep pile ivory coloured carpet surrounded the Queen sized bed, and the drapes at the windows were of the finest silk-lined cream damask. Above her four-post bed, there was a deep plaster frieze, decorated with exquisitely worked, high relief mouldings of her favourite plant; fuchsias, and the ceiling been covered with cleverly applied trailing vines. Picked out in light green, the vines reminded her of the powerful allentwining tentacles of the computers she worked with; feelers that could stretch out to all corners of the world, to get her what she wanted, in addition to the generous salary she was paid for her work.
For a moment she lay still and relaxed, refreshed by the delicious stretch and the cooling waft of air from the air conditioning, so necessary in the hot, stifling atmosphere of Saudi-Arabia. She gazed at the ceiling again. Maybe the ceiling was overkill, a hangover from Middle Eastern influences, but then she was a woman after all. She felt entitled to some feminine emphasis to soften the minimalist regimented decor, she liked. What better place to relax minimalism than in her bedroom; her boudoir; her home from home, during her sojourn away from the States.
There was just a single ornament, a nineteenth century wash-bowl and jug; nothing special and not overblown with fancy decoration, so it too appealed to her neat, orderly mind. A satisfied smile spread over her beautiful face, and she drank in the heady aroma of her own long thick, blonde hair, that lay as a soft fan about her head; in golden contrast to the black pillowslip. For a twenty-three year old Computer Analyst, this was luxury well above the norm. But then Devon Tyler did have an exceptional mind and exceptional capabilities in her job. She also had Daddy. Daddy was Senator Grant Tyler; soon to be President Elect no less.
A warm glow of inner satisfaction spread through her, as she savoured the knowledge that this beautiful apartment had been a going-away present from Daddy when she had got her post out here, with Teknix. Again, a slow smile spread over her face. She had it made. She savoured the words, President Tyler. She almost salivated as she thought about the side-benefits that she would enjoy as a President’s daughter, especially out here in the oil-rich land of Saudi-Arabia. Although, to succeed, she didn’t really need that kind of leverage, but it was always going to be useful. She looked about the room again, and sighed contentedly. She had not only Daddy, and her skills to thank for everything she had achieved, but also her extraordinarily good looks.
She blushed slightly then, as she remembered the comment of an older girl friend at High School. They had been discussing sex and men, Devon half complaining about the inordinate amount of attention she attracted.
The girl had laughed and said. ‘Devon honey, don’t blame the guys. Look at yourself. Heck girl, already you have a body to die for!’ She had giggled. ‘In a few years time your figure’ll look like it’s designed for a whore, but fit for a Princess.’
At the time Devon had taken umbrage at the remark, but inside she had felt a deep satisfaction. She knew the girl was right. In addition to her keen mind, Devon had something which, if used properly, would take her to the top of whatever profession she chose, regardless of her abilities and connections.
That girl in High School had been right on the mark. Besides having a beautiful face, Devon had been endowed with the genes that had developed her growing body into the ideal of most mens’ dreams. She had lithe, firm musculature, but soft rounded curves. She had flawless, tawny skin and she always held herself proudly. For sure, Devon knew, she turned mens’ heads wherever she went, and she had no need to exaggerate the natural feminine grace, of her swinging hips; movements that never failed to attract the admiring glances of men and the envious stares of women. She was also fully aware of her upthrusting, well-shaped breasts. Velvety mounds, with dark naturally erect nipples. She was busty, but not ridiculously so. They were in perfect proportion to her body. They had to be, for they were the only part of her that wasn’t entirely natural. A certain Doctor Miles Patten, a leading expert in plastic-surgery, had shaped them for her. His exorbitant fee had been partly absorbed by Devon’s willingness, to let him share her bed, and of course, for the kudos Patten would earn from having a Senator’s daughter among his clientele.
She grinned at the memory of him admiring his own handiwork, before they first had sex. He had been rough and urgent about it, but her hips were wide and feminine and her willingness to be with him was genuine. She had accommodated him with gusto, wrapping her long, shapely legs tightly around his waist, as they had bucked and heaved about on the bed.
Their heated relationship hadn’t lasted long. Devon had never expected or wanted that. Patten had a steady procession of gorgeous women through his surgery, and Devon knew she wasn’t the only one to make a partpayment with sex. As the affair fizzled out, Devon hadn’t felt bothered overmuch. She had enjoyed things while they lasted, and had consoled herself with the more permanent benefits she had gained. So she used her bountiful gifts to her own ends? She was no slut, never specifically seeking sex, unless she met someone she knew was turning her on. Yet she was always eager to ‘turn a trick’, as the hookers called it, providing that there was something in it for her. Yes Devon knew all of this, and she would use it all whenever she felt it was needed.
To earn her living, Devon had chosen the world of computing, specialising in Accountancy. But Accountancy was a little dull, even when her precious PC was involved. What really excited her about the world of the Computer, was the fine art of hacking, an exact, but as yet comparatively infant art. When she was in front of a PC monitor, her fingers flying over the keys, she felt part of a different world. Here was an atmosphere that really got her mental juices flowing, something that demanded just the kind of brain she had. It was a shadier part of the world of fast-moving technology, but was still something that she felt was worthy of her talents. Well, the challenge was indeed worthy of her, and she had taken it on fearlessly, progressing easily from harmless pranks, to working out means of hacking into companies accounts.
She had also discovered soon enough that in the world of computer technology, the people who populated it were no different than those in any other field in life. Her natural good looks worked like a charm and just like anywhere else in the world, the weaknesses of rich and powerful people, would give her the opportunity to earn the kind of money she needed to get herself the best of everything. Nothing less would do for Devon Tyler, she decided, and that was why she had allowed herself to be sidetracked into looking very closely at the Company’s accounts.
Devon chewed her lower lip then, and was obliged to push away feelings of shame as the thought of her dalliance, moved on to her previous immediate senior, Barbara Green.
Devon sighed. It was not only powerful men who desired women like herself. There were powerful women too. Women like Barbara Green. Who was a striding booming, severely dressed bull-dyke. The woman had made no secret of what she was, and the office girls avoided her like the plague. Nor had Barbara ever hidden the fact that she wanted Devon and it was just a matter of weeks before the offer of promotion came along; together with the quiet invitation. ‘Why don’t you call and see me tonight Devon, my dear,’ Barbara had smiled, showing her slightly yellowed, nicotinestained teeth. ‘I’ll turn the A/C right up, and we can share a bottle of wine and maybe a good pizza, while we discuss your future.’ She slid a card across her desk. ‘There now. My address. Shall we say eight for eight-thirty?’ She smiled slightly. ‘No need to dress too much my dear.’
Devon smiled hesitantly, and made to pick up the card.
The woman’s hand moved towards her. It was a swift grab almost, and Devon was unable to avoid the woman’s grasp. She gave Devon’s hand a tight but brief squeeze with a hot, sweaty palm, and Devon had to control a shudder of disgust. She blushed slightly and put the card away into her pocket. ‘Yes Miss Green. Of course. That would be lovely.’ She smiled, swallowing the vile taste that had risen in her mouth; imagined surely? She smothered the wild visions in her mind, and fixed her thoughts on the advancement that would follow. She had to grit herself to this. The harridan was a weak-willed slut, but one who Devon knew would be useful to her. So why not take advantage of the ugly crone’s lust. Use her; look on her as just another rung in the ladder. Not a very savoury rung, but a rung nonetheless, a lift upwards, getting her what she wanted.
Lying here now, Devon dismissed the vile memories of that first, fumbling night of clumsy, slobbering lesbian love. And the even worse memories of other nights that followed. The affair had lasted maybe three months. Three, gut-heaving months, during which Devon had been pawed and splathered over by the disgustingly plump, sweaty old bitch. Despite the skin crawling assignations; enduring the woman’s perverted caresses Devon had forced herself to respond as she knew the woman would want. Devon was not gay or even remotely bisexual and throughout everything they did together, had needed to shut her mind to the loathing of being with the woman.
Yet, to be fair, Barbara Green had always been gentle with her.
Some side-benefit! Gentle or not, the only time things had ever approached enjoyment for Devon was when the woman had used a strap-on with her. Barbara always liked to do that doggie-style, and at least Devon didn’t have to kiss her. Or look at her. The dildo was an expensive one that could be filled with warm liquid and it had a built-in pulsing mechanism. Even Devon had to admit, that had excited her, because then she could close her eyes, push away the repugnance, and imagine the monstrosity, pummelling her body, was the hot pulsating shaft of a real man. In this way, Devon had seen out her ordeal, grimly determined not to queer her own pitch. Until that was, Barbara Green had tried to persuade Devon to accept another equally bloated, loathsome old bitch in the same bed.
Devon, knowing that now she was secure in her appointment, had seen this as her chance to end the affair. She grasped the opportunity eagerly, and with scant regard for the old cow’s feelings had, impolitely told her to ‘Fuck off and find a real perverted gay bitch to share your disgusting sex-life.’
For weeks afterwards, Barbara had been vile; Devon’s obvious connections cut no ice. She berated Devon at every opportunity, pouring shitloads of scorn on her work, all of it undeserved. Yet that was Barbara Green’s problem. Devon made sure there was never any proper reason for the hag to get rid of her. Because without such reason, Devon’s contract gave her the security she needed, having performed flawlessly, for her first three months. Then, a crack of good luck came Devon’s way. One of Barbara’s ceaseless tirades, and the ensuing argument, had been overhead by Alex James, the visiting District Manager. James had wasted no time, dismissing Barbara Green on the spot for abuse of her authority. Devon suspected James’s actions had been prompted not only because of his right to sack Barbara. He would no doubt have been thinking of the commercial value in having connections like Devon, especially as by now, it was known that Senator Tyler was in the running for becoming a Presidential candidate. Even out here in this hot desert State, such connections would be useful.
Even so, Devon had not escaped entirely unscathed, for she got a well directed admonition from Alex James, for responding to Barbara’s vehemence. But she took that and rode with it, finally making the resolve to move on from juvenile hacking feats, to something that would give the old hag, a little shock. From now on, Devon was going to be looking after Numero Uno.
She had managed to keep all that well hidden, and the clouds in the workplace were eventually swept away, and attention was diverted from her, to other more important facets of workaday life. Devon had retained her post and thus had ended one of the least savoury episodes in her young life.
Now Devon ran her hands over her body, relishing the smoothness of her naked skin, the bad memories fading, as she got out of bed. She would have liked to lie there longer, because for some reason she was feeling horny. Why that was so, she couldn’t say. It certainly wasn’t anything to do with the memories of Barbara Green.
Devon smiled and blushed as she realised. She was recalling the carpeting she had gotten from Alex James.
Her mind drifted a moment and her hand strayed, almost of its own volition, to her clit, where she played gently for a few moments. Then she stopped, remembering the clock. She would barely fit in her shower before dressing. If she hurried, she could grab an orange smoothie with egg and protein powder, and a decaffeinated coffee before getting out. She pigged her makeshift breakfast, gulping it down hurriedly, on the run as it were. She had a small chore to attend to before going into work.
***
Devon broke her journey to work, by stopping off at an Allnight Internet Café, near to the Teknix building. She paid her fee, and then went to the machine the attendant had allotted her. Her first task was to log onto the Internet, via her own ISP. She had nothing to worry about. When she had done, it would be an easy matter to circumvent the security feature, which logged the activities and ISP of any user. Then she could change the records to erase all of her movements across the net. She worked swiftly and within seconds she was making a quick check on her private email box. With that innocuous task finished, she then slipped a floppy disc into the slot. She made another three or four, expert keystrokes, and smiled satisfactorily as, almost magically, another $5,000 of Teknix Computers’ money was transferred to Barbara Green’s private bank account. It was money they would probably never miss, but by expertly covering her movements again, Devon made sure, Barbara Green would be aware of the transaction. Then, as if Barbara herself had made the illegal transactions, she transferred the money to a Swiss Bank Account in Zurich, an account in the name of one Angela Bright.
Angela Bright of course, didn’t exist. Oh she had once, and had been about Devon’s age. But Angela had gotten herself killed in a road accident, and she had been the ideal choice for Devon, as a ‘dual-identity’. Especially so, as from the online records, Devon knew the woman had borne a striking resemblance to herself. No coincidence this, but the results of a painstaking computer search by Devon.
Devon smiled to herself. That had been the difficult part. But necessary. She was committing a major crime, and Barbara Green would be aware of it. At least of her unwitting part in it. Any trail would lead back to Barbara Green, and thence it would go stone cold. Devon had seen to that. If the worst came to the worst, she could always go the whole hog. She could just vanish, and emerge as the new Angela Bright. Barbara would no doubt have her suspicions, but there would be nothing she could prove; especially from inside a prison cell.
Devon smirked, and a feeling of power ran through her, as she realised she could have transferred even more money into Barbara Green’s account, and left her holding a real bastard child. But no. Devon was more concerned with using the bitch as go-between; a small step on her way to personal wealth. Devon had to make sure there were no loose ends. She had no desire to wind up in prison.
Next, Devon opened an encrypted file, from her floppy disc, and with practiced ease erased all tracks leading back to her. Any trail at all, would lead to just to Angela Bright. Angela. Until Angela could be found, then the law could do nothing. Devon glowed inside with personal satisfaction and esteem. She was safe. She was clever. She wouldn’t be discovered. Sop, it was unlikely there would be any trail, but if one was found, it would end at Barbara Green’s account, and she would look as guilty as Hell! That was if anyone other than the old cow ever found out. That was a remote possibility but one that wasn’t worth worrying about.
Satisfied that it had all been completed correctly, Devon removed her floppy disc, and then hacked directly into the index.dat file, to remove all incriminating traces of her illegal usage of the machine. The only record of her ever having been in the Café’ were the details she had supplied to the Café attendant when she’d come into the place. Any checks on the machine she had used would simply come back showing that she had merely logged on to her ISP and checked her private emails.
After leaving the Internet Café, there was just one necessary interruption in her walk to Teknix. She dared not take the floppy disc into the office, so at the first mail-box she came to, she placed the disk in a pre-prepared, stamped, selfaddressed envelope, and mailed it, low priority, back to her apartment. She had long ago realised that the best place to hide anything was in any Mail service. If they lost the package, it didn’t matter. She kept a Master copy in her bank deposit box.
Devon arrived, at work with her usual half-hour of time to spare. The lobby was deserted but for the swarthy, smartly dressed Carlito Donetti, the night security porter. She smiled at him as she always did. She thought he was delicious; but she never really let it show. ‘Good Morning Carlito,’ she smiled.
‘Hey Miss Tyler.’ He beamed. ‘One of these days you gonna be late eh?’
‘Never Carlito,’ she answered, as she swung him a smiling glance over her shoulder. Yes, she definitely liked Carlito. He was everything an Italian stud should be and she knew she could easily get wet, just thinking about him. It was a pity there was no point in encouraging him too much. He was just a Security Porter and had had nothing she needed. In any case he was married. Although she wouldn’t have worried about that, and she did sometimes wonder if he would be tempted, were she to give him the green light. One thing was for sure, she often wished, that some of the men she had to play ‘ball’ with were as easy on the eye. She winked at him. ‘Make sure you get a good sleep today.’ She chuckled. ‘Dream of me eh Carlito?’
He grinned ’Is an order or a request Miss Tyler?’
She laughed aloud. ‘Just make it a good dream Carlito!’
‘Ah, Miss Tyler that is no trouble, I tell you so. No trouble at all.’
Devon waved again just before she turned the corner towards the elevators. A secret half-smile formed. Carlito would be easy. Maybe one day, when she was in need of some real good sex, sex for its own sake and her pure enjoyment? She dismissed it. As normal, Carlito would be gone before Devon left work that evening so as always she just said. ‘See you tomorrow morning Carlito.’
The office floor was unoccupied; quiet but for he muted hum of the air conditioning. She was first in as she always was. Had she wanted, or been stupid enough, she would have had time a plenty to make her illegal transfers here, but even using her personal laptop from the office connection was a risk. Even her expertise, wasn’t up to the task of breaking the sophisticated Teknix codes, to cover up any illegal use of the online services. No it would always have to be an Allnight Internet Café. A tiny but acceptable inconvenience, until she had enough stashed away to leave her old life for good and begin again. She would make herself rich, beyond the wildest dreams of even her father.
She slipped off her topcoat, and settled herself into her chair, ready to clear away the overnight rubbish. Then she noticed the envelope propped up against the disk-rack beside her monitor. She picked up the note, frowned slightly and then slit the envelope. Then she grinned. It was a note from Adam North, El Supremo himself, and in his own handwriting:
My Dear Devon,
I am gratefully aware that you are always in early. Such diligence rarely goes unnoticed. So, there is no excuse for you to refuse my invitation to come directly to my office when you get in. (He had drawn a smiley face icon here). I look forward to seeing you. There is something important we have to discuss. Oh! I almost forgot! Please bring your street clothes. There is somewhere I would like to take you afterwards.
Thank you.
Adam North. (He had drawn another smiley face.)
Well, well, she thought. Adam North wanted her in his office! A trip to the ‘casting-couch’ as the girls secretly called North’s office. Maybe. There certainly wasn’t any hint of impending gloom in the note and she knew he could never fault her work. Suddenly, she felt the familiar tingle of excitement, as she tinkered with the idea that this might be the first step on yet another rung of the ladder upwards. And the bonus was that Adam North, although in his mid-forties, was quite a dish.
Still smiling, Devon folded the note back into the envelope and slipped it in her bag. She switched off her machine, picked up her topcoat, and made her way to the elevator again.
Chapter Two:
With her pulses singing in anticipation, Devon took the elevator to the upper office suite. As the elevator slowed, she adjusted her skirt, and smiling at her reflection in the stainless steel walls of the elevator, she took a deep breath. The elevator stopped gently, the doors swished open and she stepped onto the lush pile of the deep blue carpet.
Adam North wasn’t there. His huge leather swivel chair was empty, and his vast rosewood desk was clear, but for his calendar-clock, and his treasured antique blotter and penstand. Propped against the stand was a large envelope with Devon’s name written on it in bold, black calligraphic writing. Frowning slightly, she went to the desk and picked up the envelope. She opened it, and read the brief note.
Devon,
Beneath the front edge of my desk there is a red button. Please press it!
Adam. (He had drawn another smiley face).
She smiled hesitantly. Adam North was playing games. Maybe this was a ‘casting-couch’ visit after all. There was but one way to find out. She found the button and pressed it. Then almost jumped clear out of her skin, as she heard a soft rumbling noise. The heavy book case to her left suddenly moved sideways, revealing an open doorway. Beyond the doorway was another, smaller office and there a smiling Adam North was sitting in a deep leather armchair, waiting.
She smiled, almost in relief. She had heard rumours about this ‘secret’ ante-room and now she knew. This had to be a ‘casting-couch’ call then. Smiling, she walked towards the small room, barely hearing the click as the main office door locked itself.
Adam North was in his shirt-sleeves, his red suspenders contrasting with the pale cream shirt, and neat brown tie. Devon walked towards him, smiling. Then she stopped and felt her heart begin to race. He wasn’t alone. Her pulses fluttered and slight panic set in, as she recognised Barbara Green, standing near the large picture window, wearing her usual severe tweeds, and gazing across the panoramic view of the City. Then, to her right, Devon saw Phillip Gaine, the tall, elegant, Head of Software Security. He was leaning against the dark wood panelling, drinking nonchalantly from a bottle of Coke that seemed tiny in his huge, bronzed hand.
Then the soft rumble of the bookcase sliding across the doorway again, sealing the room.
The presence of Barbara and Gaine was ominous and immediately, Devon began to think about her computer prank. Had Barbara Green somehow found out exactly what had happened, and come to Adam North? Suddenly Devon realised she might have some explaining to do. And then an even more worrying thought occurred. What she had done had been against the law, even though she had meant it as a prank.
Had they found her out; and if so, how? Devon was blushing, unable to control it; feeling the heat in her face and desperately willing herself to calm down. Almost unnoticed, her top coat fell to the floor.
North broke the silence. ‘You are wondering how we found out?’ He smiled lazily.
Devon felt her eyes widen in surprise. God! Was the man a mind reader? No, of course he wasn’t, she reflected, but he surely knew, or at least suspected something. She would have to be careful not to give herself away. She knew she had covered her ass. She would have to dumb them out. She forced her mind to be still, to calm herself and she recovered enough not to fall into that one. ‘How do you mean, found out?’ Found out what?’ She frowned trying to look genuinely perplexed.
‘Oh come on girl.’ Barbara Green had turned away from the view. ‘You know perfectly well what we mean.’
‘I’m sorry, but I don’t.’ Desperately she tried to control herself, as the shakes threatened to start in her knees. She looked down, afraid to meet North’s grey-eyed stare. ‘May I sit down?’
He smiled. ‘Feeling a little queasy are we Devon?’
She shook her head. ‘No. I just feel as if I am in some sort of inquisition, for something I know nothing about. I prefer to sit down.’
He shrugged, nodding towards a dark brown leather chair and then pointed to her coat. ‘Pick up you coat Devon. It’ll get creased lying there.’ The cool smile again
She snatched up the coat, smothering her embarrassment, and then went toward the chair.
North continued. ‘By all means get comfy Devon. Maybe it will make it easier for you to lie to us.’
She paused in the act of sitting and shot him a startled glance. ‘What the Hell do you mean, lie to you?’ She tried to suffuse her face with indignation.
He shook his head and sighed. ‘Devon… Give it up.’
She plumped down into the soft leather armchair. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ The shakes were beginning. How much longer could she hold out? Was it even worth trying? Did they really know, or were they guessing? Oh God! Why had she been so greedy, and embarked on her embezzling spree? Why couldn’t she have been satisfied with using her body to get what she wanted, through her job?
North went on. ‘I can see it in your face. We all can. So I’ll answer your obvious questions. We know exactly what you’ve been doing at home, with your little PC.’ He smirked. ‘You’re an extremely smart girl, especially where computers are concerned.’ His smile became sly. ‘But you must realise that compared to Mr. Gaine and his team you are a mere novice.’
Gaine cleared his throat. ‘You covered your tracks well Miss Tyler. We got quite a headache picking up your trail.’ He put the Coke bottle on a small table and folded his arms across his barrel-chest. Vaguely, Devon recalled he was noted for his spare-time love of the weights. It showed, and she suppressed a shudder. He remained leaning against the wall. ‘But just like you we are persistent and ruthless.’
She ignored him.
Again he smiled, ‘Ignore me if you wish Miss Tyler. It makes no difference to me.’ He picked up the Coke and took another swig. ‘By the way,’ he said, ‘that was a smart piece of programming you did on your encryption file. Not perfect, but quite clever.’ He shrugged. ‘Where is it by the way? In the mail on its way home?’
Shaking her head, Devon was wondering where she’d screwed up, but she had to deny everything. She didn’t know for certain exactly what they had on her. But admit nothing was her best approach. ‘I haven’t the foggiest…’
‘Don’t waste your breath Devon.’ North snapped at her.
Now Devon showed genuine anger, prompted mainly by the fact she had been caught out. Still, she resolved that she was going to admit nothing. She knew there was no way they could know for sure. They knew some stuff obviously, but mostly they would be guessing; trying to scare her into admitting her crime. All she needed to do was keep her head and they’d have to find a better excuse to get rid of her. ‘That’s ridiculous,’ she blurted out. ‘I’ve done nothing.’ She glared at Gaine. ‘Anything your experts claim to have found will be something they put there.’ She turned her defiant gaze towards Adam North again. ‘Why would I do anything nefarious on my PC? I would have to be stupid to even try.’
He sighed again. ‘Not stupid Devon. We know you’re not stupid, but you are extremely arrogant.’ He shook his head, sadly it seemed. ‘I thought I had seen it all, but you surprise even me.’ He took a cigar from his shirt pocket. ‘No Devon, you’re not stupid.’He smiled slightly. ‘But, as I said, you were arrogant enough to try.’ He lit up the cigar. ‘You were so sure you could win, the challenge was just too much to resist.’ He leaned forward, blew smoke towards her and then raised his voice. ‘That’s about right isn’t it?’
‘You have no proof whatsoever, and I demand an apology,’ she blazed back at him. She was confident they couldn’t have proof, yet still unsure as to how they had discovered the money was missing. Maybe Gaine and his team really were that good.
‘Proof?’ North sighed and picked up a blue filefolder from a side-table. ‘Now let me see.’ He flipped through the file a moment and then stared into her eyes. He tapped a page. ‘According to this spreadsheet, to date, you have embezzled, exactly fiftythousand dollars from the company.’ His face wasn’t so pleasant now. ‘That money lies in a Swiss Bank Account in Zurich and the number is 076/5924/2005, in the name of Angela Bright.’ He chuckled. ‘Did you choose her because of her name? Some kind of selfsatisfying conceit at your brilliance?’ He waved smoke aside. ‘That isn’t important at the moment. But our information is correct. Yes?’
Devon felt her jaw drop, literally; and she began to shake more, as she tried to sort out where she had slipped up. They knew about Angela Bright, so they must know everything else too. Now she saw what a terrible position she had placed herself in.
North didn’t miss it. ‘Shake you might girl.’ He smiled icily, ‘You are looking at a long prison sentence, back home. I am sure you know what happens to girls like you when they wind up in prison.’ He leaned back and grinned, evil almost shining from his eyes. ‘And a Senator’s daughter too. The women in there would think that Christmas, Thanksgiving and Independence Day had all been rolled into one.’
For a moment, pure terror ran through her, until she recovered her composure a little. She had to front it out. ‘I know nothing about a Swiss Bank Account; in mine or anyone else’s name and...’
‘It’s all in here Devon.’ He tapped the file again. ‘And we didn’t put it there. You did. You can check if you wish.’ He grinned. ‘But of course you don’t need to, because you know it’s game over!’
Then she shrugged and looked at him deciding to brazen it out; call his bluff. ‘No one would send me to prison. My father for a start would…’
He interrupted her again. ‘Admission if ever I heard it, and I don’t think your father’s position would help. More likely hinder both you and him.’
’No... No…’ She was clutching at half-formed excuses. ‘And anyway it - whatever I did was just a harmless prank.’
‘A prank? You call stealing fiftythousand dollars a prank?’
‘I didn’t steal anything! I didn’t! I was going to put it all back.’ She realised how lame that sounded.
He laughed softly and looked at the file again.’ That’s not what it says here.’ He shrugged. ‘You broke the law Devon.’
She slumped. She knew it was finished. They had outsmarted her. The feeling brought a sour taste to her mouth and she felt slightly sick. ‘Yes, but…’
‘No buts Devon.’
She looked up quickly. ‘I admit I tampered with Miss Green’s bank account.’ She stared at the floor, holding back the desire to sob and plead for mercy. ‘I just did it to get even.’
Barbara Green chuckled. ‘Get even?’ she snorted. ‘I suppose in your arrogance, you thought I wouldn’t realise who was responsible.’
Devon felt angry then and she blazed at her. ‘You might have suspected, but you know damn well there was nothing you could prove.’
Barbara gave her a sly grin and then said. ‘No there wasn’t.’ She glanced at Gaine. ‘But there is now. ‘
Gaine smiled a hint of evil on his face.
Now Devon saw it all. She had hoist herself on her own petard. Her sheer arrogance had been her deadfall. The physical evidence on the hard-disks was there. She didn’t even need to check anything. She knew the evidence would now point to her having stolen and then diverted funds from her employers. It would damn her. No one would ever believe her claims of innocence, but she was dammed if she would admit anything in Court. So her employers had caught her with her hand in the accounts? That happened every day somewhere or another, and it was rare for a firm to send the miscreant to Court. And even if they did, a good lawyer might throw doubt on their evidence, suggesting it was planted by the firm. She glared at North. ‘Even if I go to Court, and I doubt that, it’s a first offence. Supposing you do prove I meddled with Miss Green’s account. So what?’ Yet there was still a tremor in her voice.
‘I think she’s realised the mess she’s in Adam.’ Gaine smiled lazily.
‘Yet still such arrogance,’ North said.
‘Mind you Adam,’ Barbara Green put in. ‘Her Daddy could buy some smartass attorney. She might just get probation.’ She spread her arms wide. ‘Hell if her brief is smart enough to discredit the Swiss Account records, she might get off altogether.’
He nodded. ‘Yes Barbara. That is a slight possibility we can’t ignore, even though she has stolen a great deal of money. And I would hate to think Devon got less than proper punishment.’
He was speaking as if Devon wasn’t in the room, and as if he believed she had stolen the money for real. She knew he was fully aware that she had been set-up; He was fully involved in the frame-up. But why? Just because she had upset some fat old lesbian pervert?
North drew on the cigar and inhaled deeply. ‘We’ll give her a choice Barbara.’ He smiled at the woman. ‘Either way, she pays for her transgression.’ Then he jabbed the cigar towards the main office. ‘Devon my girl, it really is your choice. If you go out through the main door you will walk into the custody of two ladies from Security. They will hold you and send for the Police.’ He shrugged. ‘You can take your chance. You might be right and you’ll eventually get probation.’ Again he looked at the paper and puffed on the cigar. ‘On the other hand, you might not.’
Devon knew the blood had drained from her face and she was beginning to feel ever more nauseous.
North just smiled as he smoked his cigar. Then he laid it on the ashtray and said. ‘Or you could go back in the elevator with Ms. Green, Mr. Gaine and I, for a trip up to the helipad.’
She blinked rapidly, her cheeks flushing and tears starting to well in her eyes. ‘Th...Th... The helipad? B.B.But…Why should I g.g.go with you? What will happen to me if I do?’
He shrugged. ‘Well now Devon, you know what will happen if you don’t.’
Devon leaned forward in her chair, trying desperately to hide a strange fear. Fear of something unknown yet anticipated, from North’s manner. She bridled. ‘You can’t take me anywhere. I don’t have to do anything you say. You can’t just cover this up. You framed me. My father’s a Senator for Chris….’
‘Shut up!’ North’s face began to suffuse. ‘I don’t give a shit about your father. You haven’t been framed. You framed yourself. On the face of the evidence, you stole from us and you screwed up.’ He calmed a little and shrugged again. ‘You’ll be punished.’ Then he grinned wolfishly at the other two.
Devon blinked and swallowed. Then she took a deep breath. She would have this bastard jumping through hoops. Her father would see to that. She kept her defiance hidden and looked down. ‘You seem to have forgotten about Security out there? They must know I am here and why.’
He shook his head. ‘At the moment, Devon, they believe you are here for a routine dismissal and that they are there to escort you from the building, should you make a scene.’ He grinned. ‘Even Daddy can’t argue against that.’ He returned to the folder, and took out a brown envelope, which he held up for her to see. ‘In here is your severance check, notice of dismissal and a reference. All neat and above board. If you walk out to Security, you will keep that money, for now. Security though, will be told exactly what you have done and they will know what to do.’ He eased himself in the chair. He smiled slowly. ‘However, if you accept what I have decided for you, I simply tell them you are going quietly and we are giving you the courtesy of a lift to the airport.’ He shrugged. ‘They will assume we are taking you down in the elevator, instead of up. He smiled again. ‘No big deal Devon. It’s done all the time.’
‘No!’ she said angrily. ‘I haven’t done anything. I played a harmless prank…’
He shrugged. ‘The evidence says otherwise. Is this a chance you really want to take?’
She paused looking down at the floor. Then she lifted her tearrun gaze her mind in a whirl, worrying about herself, her job, about Daddy, Oh God what had she done? The tears were running unheeded, down her cheeks now. ‘I...I don’t know.’ She had been caught with her hand in the money box and although she hadn’t exactly stolen anything, just yet they could make it seem as if she had. She knew there was no way out. She should have let Barbara Green be, let things go, instead of seeking snotty revenge. She had gotten herself into this mess through her arrogance and plain misjudgement. She would have to face the Law. But then there was this strange, illegal offer from North. What was that all about? What did he mean? She had some quick thinking to do. There was a decision to be made. She sniffed, checked her tears and then dropped her shoulders, resting her head in her hands, just sobbing slightly. ‘I don’t have a choice really do I?’
‘Not unless you wish to go to prison.’
She looked up, blinking away the tears. ‘Of course I don’t want to go to prison.’
‘Of course not Devon,’ he grinned.
‘And what did you mean by your punishment?’
‘Ahh! Our punishment! He leaned back and got his cigar going again. ‘Now that is something for you to find out, but it will be better than prison, I assure you.’ His grin was wide and cold. ’Well a little better at least.’
Devon shuddered, wondering what the Hell he was alluding to. It didn’t matter though. What choice did she have? Whatever Adam North had planned for her, she definitely did not want to go to prison. ‘How can I trust you?’
‘You have no choice, if you wish to stay free of prison.’
She sighed and covered her face with her hands again.
‘If you are wise you’ll accept our little offer.’ He chuckled then. ‘Either way of course, you lose all the money you appear to have stolen.’ He grinned widely now, and Devon knew he had nothing to lose by intimating that she had been set-up. ‘That is already being reclaimed, by Miss Green as a matter of fact.’ He stretched and stood up. ‘And right now there’s something else for us to collect.’
Devon looked up, blinking, her face taught with fright. ‘Collect? Collect what?’
‘Our dues Devon, our dues.’ He glanced at the other two. ‘I think that’s the least we can ask, don’t you agree?’
The two merely chuckled, and then purposefully, Gaine walked over to Devon, leaned his hard bulk over her and grabbed her, enclosing her upper arm entirely in his big, hard hand. Gripping hard, he lifted her from the chair.
‘Ooow!’ she squealed. ‘You’re hurting …’
He shook his head. ‘Come along now Devon.’ He said. ‘No more fuss. It’s time to take you away.’
Devon gasped in shock, as suddenly and quite openly, he fondled her buttocks, his fingers forcing the material of her skirt between her butt cheeks. He smiled at North and Green. ‘Firm and tender!’ He growled, an appreciative sound. ‘No panties either. Just a thong!’ Then he put his lips to her ear. ‘Too much underwear slut. ‘
She struggled wrenching her arm free. ‘How dare you!’ I demand…’
Whaaack!
His huge hand slammed across her face, knocking her sideways, and she fell, only to be dragged back upright again. His hand reached for the hem of her skirt and ripped it from her in one easy movement.
Devon screamed out. ‘Heeeyyy! What the Hell…’
Whaaack! Again, sending her mind spinning, and she started to feel queasy, as unconsciousness hovered near. ‘Puh… puh… puh…please noo .o... I …’
Thwaaaack! This time it wasn’t his hand but a heavy, short rattan that he had taken from his pocket. The cane sliced into her exposed buttocks, burning across her skin.
Her head back she screamed ‘Ahhhiiieeeee! Oh my god! No please puh…please…’
A second slash of the cane, and she began to sob uncontrollably and sagged to her knees, mewling in protest as the thong was ripped from between her thighs, and cast aside.
His hand pushed her head to the carpet, and twisting his hand in her locks, he pressed her face into the fibres. ‘That’s right bitch, on your knees,’ he said. ‘Show us that sweet ass.’
She wriggled and then the cane sliced into her thighs from behind.
‘Uhhhhnnn, no! Uhhhhnnn… Unnngghhh!’ The carpet muffled her screams so she tried to shake her head, managing to get a few words out. ‘No, No please let me go!’
A slicing kick smashed into the side of her belly and she retched, whooping for air, as the wind was knocked from her.
‘Shut your mouth slut,’ he snarled at her. ‘I shan’t tell you again.’
Then his mouth was beside her ear and he growled quietly. ‘You do as we say, because as of right now your ass is ours! You get the case?’
The feeling of breathlessness lessened slowly and she was able to nod gently, trying to bear the burning agony of welts the cane had raised across her naked buttocks and thighs. She screwed her features into a tortured mask, knowing that her face was a fiery red, hot with shame and embarrassment.
A whirling tornado of thoughts spun in her mind, but she managed to hold onto her senses long enough to realise that she had to agree. She didn’t want any more of that cane. She nodded, mutely. Then the cane howled through the air again, and the scorching heat of another blow ran through her body. ‘Aaieeeeeee!’ she screamed out. ‘No. Oh G.g.god!’
‘There’s no God here slut,’ he laughed. ‘You’re on you own. Now answer me. Are you on the case?’
She nodded. Then another scream rent the air as a shattering blow from the cane landed across the backs of her thighs.
‘Answer me slut! Now!’
‘Yes. Oh God Yes... I understand. Just stop hitting me... ‘
‘Thwaaaack! Thwaaaack!’ Again the blow echoed about the room.
She screamed out. ‘Arrrgh… Unnhhhh…! N.N.Noooo! P.P.please!’ She tried to speak, mucus and tears thickening her voice, as rolled over and yet again the cane sliced into her thighs.’
‘Yes or no slut,’ he said. ‘Just a simple yes or no.’
She slumped beneath his threat. ‘Yes.’ She sagged, knowing for the moment show must agree with this maniac.
‘Good.’ He said curtly. ‘Now here’s something else to remember. You call me Master. Is that clear too?’
‘What!’ She couldn’t believe what she heard. Who the Hell did he think he was? She looked up at him, defiant. ‘I’ll be dammed…’
The cane howled through the air.
Thwaaaack!
Thwaaaack!
Thwaaaack!
The blows came in rapid succession and she was suddenly squirming and screaming, limbs thrashing as the cane slashed into her bare flesh. Taking advantage of her every effort to escape the cane, he sliced into each freshly presented area of naked skin, breathing heavily as his arm thudded the cane into her. .
She was jabbering almost, her saliva running freely and her eyes filling with tears of agony.
Finally the onslaught ceased and he rolled her over onto her back, pressing his foot to her belly. ‘You’ll be dammed if you don’t.’ he growled at her. ‘Listen whore.’ He said. ‘You can go to prison, or you can do as you’re told now. Which is it to be?’
‘I haven’t done any… any... th.th.thing!’ she sobbed.
‘We know that, you know that.’ The pretence had gone now. ‘But we can prove otherwise.’
‘But why, why?’
‘Because you’re a stuck up snotty bitch who thinks other people are there for you to use for your own personal gain.’ He shook her head, tearing at her hair. ‘Well it’s you who is going to find out what it’s like to be used slut.’
Devon knew she couldn’t stand this much more, but she also knew that prison was not an option for her. She had no control over whatever they were going to do with her, but she knew it wouldn’t last for ever. She had to run along with their wild ideas for now until she could get away. She slumped and sobbed quietly.
He grinned down at her and then bent over her, and with one strong tug, he tore her blouse and brassiere from her body as if they were made of rice-paper casting the ruined garments aside.
‘Aaiieeeennooo! Stop…’ She struggled and screamed out again but the cane hissed through the air.
‘Thwack! Thwaaaack!’
She rolled in agony, trying to cover her nakedness, but he still had his foot in her belly as he straightened up and looked down on her ‘Well?’
Devon had instinctively tried to cover her breasts with her arms and she gasped out. ‘Leave me be... Please?’
He shrugged, kicked her arms aside and raised the cane. Swoooosh… Thwaaaack!’
The cane seared across her breasts and she let out a protracted howl. ‘Aaiiieeee… Arrghhhhh!’ Her back arched up involuntarily against his foot as she tried to absorb the agony. ‘Uhhhhnnnoooo! God! Puh…puh… p...please, N...n...no.’ she sobbed, shaking her head from side to side, trying to get her hands to the hurt.
He brushed her arms aside. ‘Well? You want to go to prison?’
Sobbing, she managed to croak out a cracked. ‘No.’
‘No what?’
She frowned, and then squealed as the cane tapped lightly on her swollen bruised nipples.
‘I said… No what?’
Frantically she tried to sort out her thoughts then realised what he meant. ‘Her cheeks flushed crimson, burning with shame and degradation, as she mumbled ‘No Mah...Mah... Master.’
He bent to her again, and she had time to pull a horrified face as she saw the hypodermic in his hand. The needle sank into her arm and she felt the world spinning around her, the room echoing with their voices as she had time to make out one sentence.
‘She’ll take some training, but she’ll make a fine slave.
Chapter Three:
Devon could remember very little after slipping into that strange disembodied state, in Adam North’s office. She did recall that in the elevator, someone had tied her hands behind her back, and buttoned her topcoat over her nakedness. After that, there were just fleeting visions of the ride in the elevator, the walk across helipad, Gaine urging her on with vicious prods of his cane. Then there had been an uncomfortable journey in a clattering, helicopter, Devon lying stretched out in a cramped compartment, with her wrists still tied, the rough cord cutting into her soft skin. Now, she was slowly becoming aware that somehow she had arrived at God only knew where, trying to come to terms with what had happened, and whether or not she was experiencing some ghastly nightmare.
As she slowly sorted out her thoughts, she realised she probably never had been entirely asleep, and whatever they had given her had merely been to sedate her, to make her more compliant. It had to be like that, for she knew she was kneeling unsupported, and in the middle of a well-furnished room, that smelled of old wood and leather.
She was stark naked, and despite the heat, was shivering mostly with fright, as her recollections took shape. Her hands were still pulled behind her; tied tightly together and, automatically, she tugged at the bindings. She winced and sucked in a breath of pain as the action aggravated the terrible soreness about her wrists. She couldn’t see her hands of course, but she knew her wrists would be red raw, and it was obvious she had been trying to free herself, even though only partly awake. Yet she was awake now, and there was no point in trying to free herself if all it achieved was further discomfort.
She lowered her head, admitting, at least for the time being, that she was defeated. She remembered the reason behind all this; her stupid crime; her arrogance in thinking she could get away with it. What she hadn’t bargained on of course was getting caught so easily.
It had been chastening a reminder that she wasn’t as smart as she had thought. She was annoyed with her self and her own arrogance; arrogance that had led her into this predicament. For now, she knew, there was nothing she could do, except wait for Adam North and his cronies to make up their minds as to when they would be finished with this so-called punishment and let her go. She could only hope and pray this stupid charade would not go on much longer.
She had been left in this room, alone, and she was vaguely aware of them departing, and noticing they hadn’t bothered to lock the door when they left. But of course, they knew, she had no idea where she was. Also, even if she’d known, how would she be able to go anywhere, naked and bound?
She returned to her immediate discomfort. She was sweating too. It was getting warmer in here, and her body was covered in sheen of perspiration, moisture starting to drip from her chin and nose, runnels of sweat, coursing down her body, trickling between her well-formed breasts and over her soft, flat belly. Every so often she would have to shake her head to try to get rid of the sweat that ran into her eyes, stinging and smarting, so she was continually screwing her eyes closed, to ease the discomfort. She was beginning to smell her own body odours, and she knew she must look a filthy sight. God, she needed a shower badly, but so far no one seemed, to care.
She could never remember feeling so miserable, or bewildered. Hardly daring to believe this had happened to her yet knowing it was real. She dropped her head as the jumbled thoughts continued to roll around her mind. How could this really be happening to her? It was 2005 for God’s sake, not the middleages in the Barbarian Middle East. Yet she knew, in fact it was all too real.
And Adam North? He seemed to be perfectly at ease in this strange, bewildering world; in which Devon had suddenly found herself. The man seemed quite comfortable, dealing with her like this. His manner was imperious, aloof, as if he handled girls in this manner all the time.
Devon stifled a sob, and she felt a flush of indignation. Damn the bastard! He had no right to treat her like this. It was mortifying. They just had no damn right, and she would get away from them and make them pay.
Then she heard the door opening and she sucked in a breath of alarm. She remained still, but for a slight trembling, as she heard North’s voice. ‘The bitch has quite a sweat going.’
Then Devon heard Barbara Green chuckling. ‘That will help her feel the whip properly.’
North laughed aloud as he came around to the front of Devon. He pushed her head lower towards the floor, ignoring her trembling sob. ‘At least she knows enough to keep still when we come into a room.’
‘Very sensible of the bitch,’ said the woman, still chuckling.
Devon was shaking again, as they continued to walk around her, North prodding her buttocks, waist and thighs with a thick, heavy cane, the brass end digging into her soft skin, bruising her. She felt her cheeks flush with shame as he said. ‘Good firm flesh on this bitch, Barbara. She should attract a lot of attention.’
Devon felt degraded as he discussed her, as though she were nothing more than a side of beef. Then she trembled again, as Barbara Green moved into her vision. The woman walked to a huge wing-chair and sat down, crossing her leatherclad legs. She was regarding Devon intently, and absently running a short, flexible whip through her hands. ‘She’s a hot little slut, I can vouch for that.’ She twitched the whip and allowed it to snake towards Devon, so it dropped to the floor in front of the terrified girl. Devon kept her head down, her body shaking with a mixture of outrage and fear; her whole being full of shame and humiliation. They didn’t have the right to treat her like this. Her father was a Senator for God’s sake. A very important man, who surely could have them eliminated if he so wished When would they realise they were messing with fire, and leave her be; let her go?
Suddenly, North pushed the tip of the cane underneath her chin and lifted her head to look at her. ‘Right my girl,’ he said. ‘It’s time to satisfy your curiosity.’ He grinned. ‘I am sure you have lots of questions.’
Damn the Bastard, she thought. Who the Hell does he think he is. She flared up. ‘Leave me be! Release me or you’ll be sorry, you bastard!’
North tuttutted. ‘Language, Devon. Language.’ He shook his head slowly, and then grinned. ‘I’ll be sorry?’ He shrugged. ‘How does that work then Devon? Hmmm?’
‘You have no right… My father...’
‘I told you I don’t give a shit about your father,’ he said. ‘For one thing he is away home in the States, and we are out here in Saudi Arabia.’ He shook his head. ‘How far does your precious father’s influence extend Devon? Hmmm?’ He sighed theatrically and then spat, at her, grinning as a large globule of saliva splattered on her left breast.
‘Yeeeccchhhh! Arrghhhhh!’ Devon, reeled back, and struggled futilely, to pull her arms free so she could wipe away the slimy mess. ‘You Bast...’
North merely chuckled and touched the bright, brass end of the cane to the wet patch on her nipple.
The jolt of power, completely unexpected, surged through her body. Involuntarily and violently, she arched backwards. ‘Arrghhhhh! Aiiioowiieee!’ she squealed as she went sprawling onto her back.
The stick touched her nipple again. ‘Aaieeeeeee!’ Devon shrieked. ‘Nooo! P…P…Please! Stop! Pleasee N.N.Noooo! Arrrgggggh!’ She shuddered as another jolting, burning wave gripped her muscles, causing her eyes to bulge wide and the veins in her neck to stand proud. Her muscles became rigid, as the burning, searing pain went through her, and her heart missed a beat before it began to race, hammering inside her chest. She didn’t need to be told that she had been given an electric shock, and she knew immediately that the cane was in fact a cattle prod. God above! These people were insane!
He towered over her and pressed the tip of the goad to her lips. ‘I should keep that pretty little mouth shut, or I will shove this inside, and give you a proper goading over!’ He chuckled at his own wit, then bent down and slapped her face. ‘And if that doesn’t work I’ll shove it deep in your ass and try again.’ He smiled into her terror stricken features. ‘In fact there are quite a few orifices I could try for the best effect, you little slut. Understand.?’
‘Y.Y…Y…Yes,’ Devon mumbled.
His aim was exact and the goad slid between her labia. He pressed the metal against her sex-crease with his foot. Sppiitttttzzzz!
Devon was scrabbling about the floor, bucking her hips about, struggling with her wrist bindings, wailing and gabbling, as the tormenting current shook her like a rag doll.
Casually, he took the goad away. ‘Yes what slut?’
As the agony subsided, she remembered. ‘Yes Mah…Mah…Master.’
‘Smaaack!’ His hand smashed across her cheek, extracting a squeal from her. ‘Don’t forget again.’
She sobbed. ‘N…N…No Mah… Master.’ She closed her eyes and wished for oblivion.
‘Get back on your knees. Now!’
As best she could Devon obeyed, finally managing to lift her torso, and got back to her knees.
‘On the mat slut.’
Wincing involuntarily, watching him in terror, Devon moved forwards, inching forwards precariously on her knees, until she reached the mat, feeling the rough fibers scraping at her knees. Then she remained still, head hanging down.
‘So Devon,’ he began. ‘I imagine you will be wishing you never tried to steal from us?’ He chuckled.
She nodded mutely.’
‘I’ll take that as a yes.’
‘Yes M…M…Master.’ She felt her cheeks burning with shame as she used that dreadful word, yet knowing she had to. To make matters worse, she could hear Barbara Green chuckling, rubbing salt into her wounded pride, deepening her sense of humiliation. Devon remained with her head down until the goad lifted her chin again. She stiffened, flinching, waiting for the shock.
He smiled sadistically. ‘Well, we will give you good cause to regret it.’ He grabbed her hair and lifted her head, gazing down into her face. Then he spat right into her eyes.’
‘Achhhh. yuuucchhhhhkkk!’ Devon retched again, as she tried shaking her head to get rid of the globule of saliva. All it did was spread the slimy trickle over her face.
‘A slut. A filthy slut,’ he said, as he traced the goad over her sweating form. ‘But a well-bodied slut, that’s for sure.’
The leather clad Barbara Green cut in. ‘She doesn’t look so high and mighty now, does she Adam?’ She laughed, her rolls of shaking fat looking obscene beneath the tight leather clothing she had on.
‘Indeed she doesn’t.’
‘She looks what she is,’ the fat woman went on. ‘A wanton little whore.’ She flicked the whip in front of Devon. ‘What are you slut?’
Devon looked up at her. ‘I’m not…’
Smaaaack! Barbara Green had surprising strength and Devon felt as if her head was being unshipped, as she tried to ride the blow, her teeth rattled in her head, and she sucked in a breath of pain as she bit her tongue and fought with the swarm of coloured lights.
‘What are you?’ The woman sat back into the chair again and raised the whip. She hissed at Devon. ‘Tell me. What are you, girl?’
Desperately trying to ignore her shame, Devon sobbed out. ‘I.I.I…I’m a wh…wh…whore Mistress. A little wh…wh...whore.’ Tears were starting from her eyes, wetting her cheeks and her face flushed with the shame and indignity of having to say these filthy things. .
The woman sneered. ‘And you are about to show us just what sort of whore.’ She smiled at North. ‘Shall we send for Jinx?’
North grinned and then nodded. ‘Great idea Barbara.’ He walked to the door, opened it and shouted out. ‘Jinx! Come here my friend. I have a job for you.’ He walked back to Devon and grabbed her matted hair, twisting her upper body so she faced the door.
Sobbing, Devon went limp; realising that doing so meant she would not feel so much pain. Then her eyes boggled as a figure appeared in the doorway. She was staring at a half-naked, hunchbacked dwarf; an ugly creature, with a seamed, yellowish face, a throwback to some strange part of creation. He looked as if he could have come from the circus of horrors, which, Devon decided, he probably had. But here were more important things to worry about. The creature had been called here for a purpose. She gasped and drew in a sobbing breath as she imagined the unimaginable. ‘Oh God!’
‘I told you there is no God here slut!’ North shook her like a puppet, ignoring her cries. He looked the grotesque little man. ‘We have a playmate for you Jinx. Like her?’
The misshapen creature grinned, showing filthy, broken teeth. He slobbered as he started to speak, a spray of saliva coming from his lips. His wide eyed stare roved over the captive Devon. ‘Oh yeah, yeah, Boss…’ His gravely voice sounded loud for a tiny man. ‘And I’se gonna enjoy dis one.’ He cackled. ‘Make dis bitch squirm eh Boss?’
North grinned and then turned to Barbara. ‘Maybe the slut should satisfy you too Barbara. I imagine she can make two people happy at once!’
Barbara Green laughed then, and standing up, wriggled her bloated hips free of the leather trousers that clung to her overblown form, like a second skin.
Devon had no time to worry about Barbara Green for almost before she realised it, the dwarf had shambled in front of her and she was looking at his stinking, bloated shaft, about three inches from her face. So close, she fancied she could feel the heat from the pulsing, twisted thing.
The dwarf held the filthy thing in front of her face. Even above the unwashed stink of the fearsome shaft, she could smell his rank body odour, and his stale breath, as he waved his massive erection in front of her face. ‘Dis here’s a lollipop slut!’ He giggled, and pushed the vile member against her lips. ‘Suck it and see.’ He cackled again and shoved hard against her mouth forcing her lips wide.
The brutish little creature didn’t stand on ceremony and he grabbed her hair, pulling her face close to his body. Urgently, the stinking, gristly weapon sank deep into her throat and she gagged, her stomach rebelling, as the dwarf began to shaft her face, slowly at first, then building up to frenzy, as his lunges quickened. He had his filthy hands twisted in her hair, pulling her face right into his smelly, hairy groin and Devon was struggling to breathe as the dwarf carried on raping her mouth, careless of the fact she could hardly breathe.
Then she gave a muffled scream as she felt strong hands on her ass, pulling her buttocks wide, before another stiff unyielding member pushed at her tight virgin ass.
She struggled and writhed, coughing and spluttering as the dwarf’s massive cock invaded her throat, widening her gullet, and at the same time, screamed as best she could, as her tight puckered anus started to open.
‘Mmmmmpphhh… Gghhhh…Agghhhh!’ She cried out struggling wildly to get away. But it was hopeless, and then to her horror realised that it wasn’t North who was shafting her back passage, but the vile Barbara Green, using no doubt, that same dildo, she had shown her those months ago,
Devon wriggled her hips and ass, wildly trying to push the thing out, but the woman was remorseless, as she shoved the hard, unyielding dildo deeper, until she too was pounding away unmercifully at Devon’s body.
Bucking and heaving, twisted this way and that, between the two brutish animals, Devon could do nothing but gag and scream muffled cries as her mouth was filled. Then the shame coursed through her as she retched at the stink of the obscenely ugly dwarf. His shaft swelled then, pulsed, and she went rigid as, at the same time Barbara Green rammed the dido deep into her body.
All at once, Devon screamed out, gurgling as the dwarf’s thick, salty semen filled her mouth and a flow of hot liquid was forced through the dildo into her rectum.
The dwarf had her face rammed hard against his groin and all that Devon could do was swallow the filthy, slimy mess as he pumped her mouth full.
Then she wailed and arched back, forcing the dildo even deeper, as the woman’s whip slashed into her buttocks. Finally, mercifully, they pushed her aside, letting her roll onto her side.
Devon lay there retching, and coughing, stray semen dripping from her mouth, and a rivulet of warm liquid mixed with blood, trickling from her ravaged anus. She was sobbing, crying, sucking in air, shrivelling inside, feeling thoroughly dirty, as she tried to forget the degradation and humiliation she had been out through.
But they weren’t finished yet.
North stood over her, and then bent down to grab her ankles. ‘Jinx! The chains.’
The grotesque little man grinned, and shuffled to a cabinet near the door. He came back with a couple of lengths of chain about four feet long, each with a wide manacle at one end and a hook at the other.
In moments, North and the dwarf had fastened a chain to each of Devon’s ankles, and she barely had time to scream, before they lifted her like a sack of grain and hooked the chains to ringbolts that were fixed in the heavy ceiling beams. Now she was hanging head down, her matted hair brushing the floor, her legs spread wide, and her bound arms hanging back against her shoulder joints, wincing and sobbing as she swung slowly back and forth.
Still she struggled to escape though, jerking herself this way and trying in vain to ease the weight off the chains, in the remote hope she would dislodge the hooks. Although what was the point? They would only hang her back up again, even if she did succeed. But still she tried, screaming out. ‘Nooo, Pleeeeease… Nooo!’ Half mad with fright and pain she thrashed about, trying to release her legs.
Swooooooosh! The whip slashed into her thighs, wrapping itself around her body, scouring a fiery path on her skin.
‘Aaiiieeee!’ Devon‘s voice started to crack as she clenched her buttocks, trying to absorb the fearful agony. That had been the worst blow North had given her and she screamed, arching her back against the blow, her spittle dribbling from her mouth.
‘Keep still bitch or I’ll shove the goad in your mouth,’ North threatened.
Sobbing, shaking, Devon tried to calm herself, and in morbid fascination watched the floor moving slowly back and forth as she swung in the chains.
‘Enough!’ It was Barbara Green who spoke. ‘I want to get on with this.’ She giggled, and Devon swung her inverted gaze towards the woman.
Barbara Green looked even more ridiculous, upside down, but there was nothing ridiculous about the heavy whip she had in her hand. Devon’s felt her eyes widen and bulge as she shook with fright. She knew the viciousness of the woman’s mind. If she was going to administer that whip, Devon knew she was about to suffer badly. She didn’t need to be told where the woman would concentrate her sadistic efforts.
She wasn’t wrong.
The woman’s arm moved in a blur. Swwiiooosh! Craaaack! The whip cut into Devon, slicing deep between the lips of her wide stretched, reddened, groin, the leather sinking deep between her labia, searing her inner lips and her clit.
‘Aaieeeeeee!’ Devon lurched against the chains, her agonised body swinging and jerking, against the chains, as her cries battered about the room. Yet again, the leather slashed into her exposed sex, the end of the whip burning, searing its way between her labia and buttocks, flicking through, to trace hotly along her spine.
Devon was shrieking for mercy, but it was falling upon uncaring ears, as the woman slashed with all her strength, again and again, turning Devon’s sexlips into a smashed reddened jelly, a mix of sweat and blood, welling up as the leather did its horrific work.
Then there was a moment’s pause and the woman went behind Devon.
Sobbing, her hair wringing wet with sweat, and with her own splather dribbling unheeded from her mouth, running up her nose, Devon hung there, wriggling, writhing, trying her best to absorb the howling burn of the blows, praying for unconsciousness.
But it didn’t come.
What did come was a fresh onslaught, from behind this time, the leather slashing and cutting into her flesh, alternate blows landing across the tight, soft skin of her buttocks, and thighs, then slamming between her genitals again, so that the end of the whip flicked along her belly, tracing a path of sheer agony, as it tore through her genitals, ripping at her tender, clit and on up to her navel. Blow after blow landed, until Devon’s screams became horse and quieter. Until finally, oblivion overcame her and Devon got her blessed relief.
Chapter Four:
As Devon slowly began to recover, she was able to take in her surroundings, and she could see that she was looking up at a large, angled mirror, just above her, so her whole body was reflected in the surface. She immediately began to tremble with fear and horror, as she saw her nakedness was complete, but for the bewildering sight of wide leather straps which had been used to truss her to the table, her back pressing against cold steel sheet beneath her shoulders.
Her eyes widened in sheer disbelief as she saw that the straps that criss-crossed her body, parting her rounded, firm breasts, pulling her tightly to the cold steel top. Her legs and arms were stretched agonisingly downwards, over the sides of the table, the pressure on her wrists and ankles telling her she was shackled, immovably, and was completely vulnerable.
Also her hips were thrust upward, by something hard and round that had been placed under her buttocks, so her hips were pushed out in offering almost. Her shapely legs looked ungainly and awkward now as they were legs splayed wide, showing her genitals to anyone who cared to look. She was strapped down in this lewd display, and she knew she had to be dreaming. But oh God! It was no dream. The pain and discomfort were too real for it to be a dream. Go help her, but she was a captive. They had abducted her, and God knew what they were going to do to her. Was this what they had meant by “Their punishment”?
She tried to scream but suddenly she smelled the gagging stink of a filthy wet cloth, as a pair of hands appeared in the mirror, close to her head. Then her face was obscured by the arms as someone stuffed the filthy rag into her mouth,. She struggled. Twisting her head from side to side, she tried to plead. ‘Unnngghhh, nummmmphhh, Nnnnnnooomphhh!’
It was hopeless. The stinking rag went into her mouth, muffling her cries and started her gagging, retching at the taste of stale ammonia and detergent, and the dreadful taste as some of the filthy dribbles went down her gullet.
Good god they were stuffing a floor-cloth into her mouth! She heaved again, and was sure that her breakfast was coming back. But then she realised. She would choke if she vomited, and frantically she tried to swallow, to stop the gagging reflex. Again her stomach revolted as all she did was swallow more of the filthy slime from the dirty cloth. She prayed; prayed like never before, that she wouldn’t vomit. There was nothing else to do, but pray!
It wasn’t over. The hands appeared again and once more she struggled against the thick leather straps that bound her to the table. She bucked and heaved with all her strength, but knew it was hopeless. Besides which all she got for the trouble was a crashing blow to the side of her face and she screamed into the sour tasting cloth in her mouth.
‘Gnnnggghhhh! Nuuunngggh!’ She grunted and tried to speak. Then her heart raced as she saw the hands again and the thick, hard leather muzzle they were holding. In a moment the awful thing was pulled over her mouth and nose. It stank worse than the cloth in her mouth, and she recognised the smell. It was stale saliva, the sour odour that she smelled around the neck of her water bottle after a couple of hours use. The leather muzzle was stiff and caked with the dried stuff, and clearly she wasn’t the first unfortunate to wear this evil thing.
Se began to pant now, her stomach working, her breasts heaving and her breath coming in wet, gasps, the air being forced through her nostrils, so she sounded like some scared animal, squealing for life. Moving her head frantically from side to side was telling her nothing. Whoever had gagged her had moved and she could see no one,
But the mirror showed it all to her. It reflected her vulnerable nakedness and the lewdness of the almost unbelievable position her body had been contorted into. The stuffy heat in room pulled sweat from her pores and the bright lights around her reflected off the sheen on her skin, as she struggled, trying to shut out the vision of the muzzle that completely covered her mouth and nose. She could see the mucus and saliva that was being expelled through the wire gauze that formed the front of the muzzle, and she could see the redness forming where the thick leather straps were starting to abrade her soft white skin.
Then she started to feel again the discomfort of the whipping that Barbara Green had given her, and she could see the puffiness of her genitals. The searing pain, hot as fire, was still as bad as when the beating had been administered and she smothered a sob, as she clenched her teeth and tried to grit it out. For sure, she could not have been here for long.
She groaned into the stinking maw of the cloth and the gag, the pain from her beating only adding to her misery, as she sagged and allowed them to get on with gagging her. Then the hands disappeared, and for a moment she was left to struggle uselessly against her bonds.
It was not for long, for suddenly she heard Barbara Green speaking. ‘Keep still slut or I’ll whip your skin to shreds.’
She stiffened, and turned towards the voice. She could see little in the shadows at the edge of the room. Just the vague form of the woman, almost like a wraith, indistinct, standing still, watching her.
Even if she could have spoken, she knew already, it would have been pointless asking her what the Hell he thought she was doing treating a Senator’s daughter like this. She knew, it would cut no ice. Right now, Daddy was of no use to her at all. Nothing; no one was of any use. All she had was her own indomitable willpower to see this through and escape at the first opportunity.
Then she began to panic again as suddenly a tall, elegant figure dressed in an Arabian caftan appeared beside her, silently, arms folded across his massive chest as he gazed down at her
Devon stared at him and realised, it was Adam North! She knew he was tall, but in her present position, North seemed huge. Her eyes widened and her breathing grew even more ragged as terror clutched at her heart. North leaned over her defenceless body and his evil face split into a sadistic grin. His eyes glinted beneath his thick arched brows and impassively, he let his gaze wander all over her body. Then he said. ‘She doesn’t look so much like a Senator’s daughter now does she Barbara?’
‘No she doesn’t.’ The woman chuckled. ‘The high and mighty Devon Tyler.’ She strolled over and stood by North. ‘Stretched out for us to use as we see fit,’
North grinned and moved towards Devon’s hips. Unfolding his arms he reached out to Devon’s vulnerability and she stiffened in terror, her breath becoming ever more frantic.
North ignored her and allowed his hands to swirl over her breast. Pinching her nipples he chuckled as Devon squealed into the reeking muffle of her gag. Then another pinch so Devon felt her insides shrivel with shame as she realised he had made her nipples harden a little. But that was fright. There was no way she would enjoy this treatment.
‘Good breasts and a nice belly. She should sell on easily enough.’ North swished his palm over Devon’s stomach and hips, and then enclosed her exposed, wide open mound. He shoved his fingers in deep, and Devon heaved her buttocks up in shock and surprise at this invasion of her body, as her soft, damaged and tender tissues almost ruptured with the force of the thrust. Frantic with terror, she tried to dislodge whatever it was that was underneath her hips. All she did was pull North’s long, insistent fingers even deeper, as he grinned and twisted his hand inside her sex.
Mortified, Devon struggled and her breath whistled through the muzzle, as she tried to pull away from his relentless evil caress.
Then her mind went into a red mist as he grabbed her clit and pinched hard. Even through the gag, her strangled. ‘Aaiiieeee! Arrrrrrgghhhhh! Nuunnnnngghhooohhhh!’ was almost decipherable. Her eyes almost started out of her head; her neck veins bulged, as he pinched again, holding tight to her throbbing clit.
Devon whipped her head from side to side, her long, blonde hair flaying about, her saliva and mucus spraying from the muzzle. She heaved and struggled futilely against the straps, tried in vain to absorb the pain as she realised there was no escaping his torment.
North squeezed even harder and she knew he would not let go… then he pushed the hood of her clit back, and she had the fleeting glimpse of his hands at her sex, and of the wicked looking steel spike, about six inches long, sharpened to a fine point.
Then she let go an insane shriek into the gag, as she felt the cold steel against her exposed clitoris. A red mist of agony closed over her and her hips bucked wildly against her bonds as she felt the indescribable pain, of the point being pushed through the flesh of her clitoris.
Almost insane with the burning agony she threshed about against the tight leather straps, as the steel went through her most sensitive part, the tears pouring from her eyes as she shrieked into the gag.
Slowly she subsided, gritting her mind to accept the pain. It worked for as she became still, her released her.
Then the burning, agonising pain kicked in as blood rushed to her damaged clit, and she sobbed into the muzzle again. ‘Nuunnghhhh! gggllesssee!’ Her words were even clearer now, as frantic with terror she pleaded into the stinking gag.
North leaned to her ear and she could smell the sharp tang of stale garlic, even through the reeking gag. He spoke softly into her ear. ‘You see Devon. What a disadvantage that clitoris is to you.’ He chuckled evilly. ‘If it weren’t there I couldn’t torment it, could I?’ He pulled on the steel needle stretching her clit outwards.
She stared into his eyes, her gaze wild and full of sheer horror.
He just chuckled and snapped his fingers. ‘Clippers!’ he said.
Devon was beside herself with fear now and she really began to writhe and twist against the straps, not knowing, but guessing what he seemed to be about to do. But no he wouldn’t! He couldn’t. She was sobbing and moaning into the gag, pleading, screeching into the muffle around her face. Beseeching him not to do what she was sure he intended.
Then her heart sank like a stone as Barbara Green handed North a pair of minishears, of the sort used for Bonsai Culture. The woman then grinned into Devon’s eyes. ‘Now we’ll see how you scream you slut!’ She cackled almost. ‘Surely you know that slavegirls in the Middle East are all circumcised?’
Devon could do nothing but stare in horror and scream into the muzzle, hoping against hope this was some weird, charade and it would soon end.
Casually, North inspected the clippers, then nodded and placed the cold steel against Devon’s right breast, pressing them into the soft tissue, nipping very lightly at her nipple.
Devon knew she had to stay perfectly still and petrified she looked at him as he stared into her eyes… ‘Shall I take this too Devon?’
Devon was floating in a morass of terror now. Her body was running with sweat and the broad leather straps were chafing into her skin, the pull on her pierced clit sending her into half-consciousness, as the waves of pain ebbed through her. She tried desperately to stop shaking for fear of causing the sharp clippers to cut her.
He shook his head and turned to the woman. ‘I think we’ll leave the slut’s nipples alone. Might be best to just pierce them, yes?’
‘Oh yes Adam.’ Barbara was now sliding her hand over Devon’s body down to her wide open sex. ‘I will see to that if you want it done before we ship her out.’
‘I have a couple of friends locally who are extremely fond of piercing a slave. Their imagination has to be seen to be believed.’ He looked about the room. ‘It would be advantageous to do it all here before she’s sold.’ He smiled at the woman. ‘So, we’ll be keeping the slut here for a while.’
Devon could hardly believe her ears. They were talking about her as if she was some sort of animal, a piece of meat, as if she didn’t matter to them. She struggled again, trying to speak, to plead. But they ignored her. North took a cellular phone from his coat and punched in a number. There was a brief exchange in Arabic, and then he switched off, and replaced the phone.
He bent to examine Devon’s genitals then, sniffing and feeling the flesh of her opened labia. I think I need the slut opened a little wider. Hooks and wires please Barbara.’ He tugged afresh on the needle, still piercing her clit, and grinned as her hips bucked against the straps.
Then Devon screamed into the gag again. ‘Aiiiieegegghhhh!’ Horrific agony went through her a she felt the needle sharp hooks slicing through her labia, two hooks to each side.
There was the sudden burning slash across her belly and the woman slashed a cane across her middle. ‘Silence slut and keep still!’
Devon tried to still her twitching, shaking body but it was hopeless as she bore the agony of the hooks, pulling her sex agape. Through tear streaked eyes she could just make out the reflection of her ravaged genitals, red with blood and being pulled close against her thighs, Then another scream as the other ends of the four wires were hooked deep into the flesh of her buttocks, so her brutalised sex was held wide open..
North chuckled as her bent to the defenceless Devon. He sniffed and gently licked at her clit, as he pulled on the needle again.
Paroxysms of agony jerked her against the leather straps, as she struggled wildly, but in vain, to get away from him. But then his tongue was lapping at her gaping sex, licking and sucking as his hands also fingered her pierced clit, she was threshing and writhing in agony, trying to resist what she knew he was doing, fighting against it, determined not to allow herself to have an orgasm.
North went on and on, until her sweat streamed body was bucking and heaving, her hips, arched up to his mouth as he sucked and licked at her sex. Despite herself she knew her juices were flowing, and she could feel the heat burning up through her body towards her hips and on into her belly. She tossed around against the straps, struggling, fighting against the urge, until her screams were continuous, her torture complete, trying desperately to resist his insistent massaging and also feeling the pain as the hooks tore at her flesh and the needle through her clit, tugged at her with every movement.
There was but on way to stop this neverending assault on her body, and she closed her yes, sobbing and slobbering into the gag, as she relaxed and allowed the waves to overcome er, The mix of pleasure and pain washed through her hips her belly and her breasts, and she arched against his face, thrusting upwards as suddenly her juices spurted, flowing uncontrollably, shooting into his mouth as he liked an sucked at her. She was sobbing with relief and shame, didn’t know which was worse. Having given into this bastard or having the agony of the hooks and the needle tearing at her already ruined genitals.
Then, abruptly, he pulled away from her and slapped her belly hard,
The pain tore through her and she splathered into the gag, sucking in as much air through her nose as possible, as he pulled on the needle again. She screamed, all pleasure gone.
The pressure on her clit was unbearable, as he pulled the needle right away from her flesh, stretching her sensitive and throbbing clitoris right outwards from her body. Then the searing, mind blowing agony as she felt the shears close around her distended clit, and the blast of pain and shame as she felt her clitoris removed with one quick snip.
Her body heaved against the straps, lifted clear of the hard wooden cylinder under her hips and she wailed into the reeking muzzle.
‘Aiiiiiinnngggghhhhh! Aaiiieeee!!! Uhhhghhhhh!’ Then she saw everything spinning around her as she had a vague impression of North dropping the shears and what had been her clit into an enamel dish.
Then her eyes started in terror again as she saw him pick up something she instantly recognised. A small, electrical soldering iron! She shook her head wildly, her hair whipping about, her hands clawing at the air by her side, her veins standing out in her neck as she tried to beg him to stop. But she knew she was wasting her time. Again the mind numbing waves of pain shook her like a doll as he casually touched the hot iron to the spot where her clitoris had been, cauterized the raw, bleeding wound.
‘Unnngghhh Unnhhhh! Nuuuhhggghhhhh!’ She screamed into the muzzle again, but this was too much pain. Devon felt her mind spinning and everything went black.
Chapter Five:
Devon felt the burning of her caned thighs and buttocks, squirmed as the hot stabs of pain radiated from her brutally assaulted genitals, to travel through her body, pulling tears from her eyes. She screamed at the memory of the beating; as the whirring, buzzing pressure in her head seemed as if it would burst open her skull.
What the Hell was happening? Through the fuzziness, nebulous memories surfaced; scattered fragments came back to her. Barbara Green; Gaine and Adam North. And the hideous dwarf, Jinx. The sudden fright of being caught out in her stupid attempts to embezzle money from her employers. Oh God no! Was this to be more of the ‘punishment’ Adam North has alluded to? She felt her heart sink into her stomach. What had she let herself in for, by accepting their so-called punishment, instead of taking her chances in Court; even a Saudi-Arabian Court.
Then she caught the distinct tang of new leather in her nostrils, and she realised that there was something enveloping her head, and she was unable to see. It was also difficult to swallow, and as full awareness returned, she realised that someone had covered her head with some kind of hood, buckling it tight about her throat. She could hear, and she felt a slight draught through the side of the hood. The constant strain on the roots of her hair, the slight tickling on her shoulder blades told her that her blonde mane was hanging free of the hood, and down below her neck. She wasn’t strapped to that table anymore
She was on her feet, it seemed, and she felt muzzy, as though she was recovering from the effects of a drug. She sobbed into the hood, frightened, feeling so alone, desperate for hope of escape. Then her body went rigid, as she recalled what they had done to her in that room, and instinctively she felt for the sore, burning spot where her clit had been. Her hands didn’t move, and she felt the tug of cold steel about her wrists, and knew that her hands had been manacled, behind her, and across her naked belly she could feel the cold steel of a length of loose chain, between her wrists. Someone prodded her buttocks, with what felt like a whip handle and sudden warmth blew over her skin. For a brief moment, she hesitated as she realised she was being taken into a hot, dry atmosphere.
Swooooooosh! Craaaaaaccckkk!
‘Aiieeaarrgggh!’ She cried out as the leather smashed into her bare ass and flicked around her thighs, burning into her tender flesh.
‘Keep moving slut!’ a man’s voice grated beside head.
A tornado of thoughts spun in her head. Where was she? How had she gotten here? Was she dreaming? No, it was no dream! It was surely some elaborate charade, thought up by Adam North, to teach her a lesson. But dear Lord, what he had done to her in that room had been no dream. He had actually circumcised her! Tears welled as she realised that was irreversible. Never again would she be able to feel the pleasure of sex. Was this North’s alternative to prison then?
Then she stopped worrying about it as something slammed into her belly. Her breath whooshed out of her and she doubled up retching, pain flaring through her body as she tried to regain her breath.
She was yanked upright again and she let out a yell, as she realised they had grabbed hold of the hank of hair that protruded from the hood, and she started to tremble with terror as someone grabbed her shoulders, spun her around and pushed her down to her knees.
Her breath whooshed out of her body again. ‘Arrghhhhh! No Please…’ All she got for her protest was another slash of the whip and she thrashed her limbs trying to evade the blows.
It was futile and she cried out again as she felt herself slammed back against a wooden post. Grunting in pain and shock, she went limp, trying to stay conscious, as her arms were snatched upwards. One wrist was quickly released, so her arms could be pulled back, behind the pole. Then the free wrist was shackled again, and she felt the chain between her arms being yanked upwards and hooked over something, stretching her torso upwards, forcing her breasts out and her buttocks into close contact with the pole.
She groaned in agony as her body weight came onto her wrists, her knees short of the floor by about four inches. Then even more pain, as her legs were splayed wide and pulled back, pressing the pole even further into her back. She gasped into the hood as she felt manacles being fastened to her ankles, preventing her from pulling her legs forwards at all.
‘Pleeeeease! No! Stop…. Aaiiieeee…’ She let out the sudden squeal of shock, as the hood was unbuckled and snatched away from her head; the bright lights causing her to blink and screw up her eyelids. But still she could see nothing and realised that there was a blindfold about her eyes.
But she didn’t need to see, to know that a wide collar was being placed about her neck and she heard the click as it was locked in place. Finally, a tight chain was placed about her waist and nipped in, squeezing her stomach, pressing her back even further against the pole. The back of her skull was also hard against the wood, for the collar, tight and unyielding, prevented her from dropping her head downwards without choking.
Then someone grabbed her nose, pinching tight, pulling it so she gasped and spluttered. ‘Arrghhhhh. N.N.Noooo Nooo!’ Then she shrieked out aloud, her voice cracking as she felt another needle, this time stabbing through her septum. She shook her head from side to side, but someone cuffed her alongside the ear, sending her mind into a whirling. Buzzing mess of light spots, as the needle was pushed harder against the gristly flesh between her nostrils. This was a much thicker needle than North had used to pierce her clit and she felt the blood dripping freely and running over her lips and chin.
Then the needle was pulled free, to be replaced immediately by what she knew was a ring, a heavy, cold metal ring that rested against her upper lip.
She strained against her chains but she couldn’t move. Totally at the mercy of the maniac who was doing this to her. But they hadn’t finished.
Hard, calloused fingers grabbed her nipples, stretching them out taught and then two blasts of agony went through her as needles were pushed through her stretched nipples. ‘Aaiiieeee! Nnunnunnughhhh!’ Please nooo!’
A whip slashed across her bent-back thighs, and she wailed again, as she felt the deep shame of submission go through her as she felt rings being pushed into her nipples, and the warm fresh blood running down her abdomen and thighs. Shivering with the pain and the shock, she tried to stifle the tears, absorb the pain, feeling the shame consuming her whole being. They were treating her like a piece of meat, and she knew that to them that was all she was. A commodity. Something to be used and sold.
Slowly, her eyesight adjusted as the burning pain in her nipples subsided a little. Swallowing the shame and loathing, she took stock of her position. As she looked about, she knew her eyes were staring wide, barely able to believe what she was seeing, yet realising just how she must appear.
***
She was in a large room, wooden walled this time, a long rectangle, with a line of heavy wooden posts at six feet intervals all down the centre. Five of the posts were occupied by a naked, collared girl, each of them, like Devon, on their knees, with their backs to the posts. The steel collars were fixed to the poles, and were clearly for the express purpose of keeping a girl’s head upright.
Each girl, just like Devon, had her arms shackled to rings at the back of the poles, well above the head, so the torso was pulled up; stiff; the thighs held vertically; pert, shapely breasts pushed forwards, into full view. A taught chain was wrapped about each waist, and fastened behind the pole, to pull in the belly, so the hollow of the back was held right against the timber. Their legs were spread wide, pulled back, right behind the posts, pressing the pole into the crease of their rounded buttocks and their ankles were secured with chains, so their thighs were spread wide, displaying their shaven sex-mounds.
Devon felt her stomach lurch as she looked at the glorious redhead opposite her. In horrified fascination, Devon looked at the wretched girl, as she sat upright and wide eyed, breathing rapidly, her breasts heaving.
Devon could scarcely believe what she was seeing, for the this girl’s breasts had also been pierced, and she had suffered the intrusion of a large, steel ring, forced through each nipple. There was a weep of blood around each ring, but it didn’t end there. Like all the girls, the redhead also had rings in her ears, and even through her septum. As Devon lowered her horrified gaze she could see that a steel ring had also been fitted through her belly, just above her mound, and below that, she could just see the heavy ring and padlock that held the girl’s labia together.
Grappling with the task of keeping her mind from slipping into a morass of oblivion, Devon tried to understand what was happening. There was an insistent thought that she couldn’t get rid of. It was almost as if these wretches were being displayed for some reason. As if they were to be examined. Then she noticed something else. They all seemed to be remarkably clear of whip-marks. Certainly, Devon could see they had been washed and the air was full of the fresh smell of perfume. Each girl’s body shone in the lights, gleaming like silk, clearly anointed with sweet smelling oil, so the skin rippled, enticingly, in the low light.
Then it dawned on her. They were indeed being displayed, and that could mean only one thing.
Now she had to believe what Adam North had intimated. They were going to be sold. Why else would they have been allowed to recover and heal?
Then Devon began to shake as she realised something else. She could still feel the results of her caning and the whip marks burned as hot as ever. So what was she doing here with all these others? By comparison Devon looked a mess. Did this mean she wasn’t to be sold at all?
She sobbed then.
Who was she kidding?
It was pointless trying to make sense of anything these monsters did. All she could do was wait. In the meantime, try to shut the sobbing and moaning of the girls, as, with fear in their faces, they all hung in their shackles, moaning and sobbing
Then the door at the far end of the room opened, and Devon let out a sudden squeal, as she recognised the screwed up evil dwarf entering the room. He had a long, bamboo switch in his hand.
It seemed the other girls recognised him too for suddenly the room was full of terrified whimpers, as he shuffled up and down the narrow walkway between the two lines of girls.
There was a wide, ugly grin on his face. ‘You bitches are going to be especially lucky,’ he said, giggling. ‘You’ve been chosen for a holiday in the Middle-East.’ He sniggered again ‘Some hopes! Perhaps you’ll learn a few new tricks out there.’ They specialise in a certain kind of pleasure.’ He sliced the switch through the air. Swoooosh! ‘Although, you won’t be getting much pleasure. You’ll just be the bitches who are supplying it to others.’ He looked about the room, grinning lewdly as his gaze alighted on each girl in turn. ‘As for sex, forget it. Like as not, you’ll be sewn up, to keep your energies for pulling a trotting-rig, or an oar in a racing cutter.’ He scratched his chin. ‘Although, maybe the Arabs will find other ways of using your bodies for sex.’ He grinned again. ‘You thought we were bastards,’ he chuckled. ‘We’re soft, compared to that lot out there. Real Sadism is the name of their game.’
Then the door banged open and she caught her breath as the Adam North walked in accompanied by a tall, distinguished man, dressed in flowing white robes. His face was half hidden by his Arabian head-dress, but she could see he was swarthy, with a hooked nose, and a dark beard. Cruel black eyes glittered beneath thick, dark, arched eyebrows, as he looked about the room.
Devon shuddered. This had to be Sheik Malik and the stories she had heard had to be true. Devon had never seen a more cruel looking man and she shuddered, her heart racing with panic. God help her if she was sold to him.
The two men went to one of the poles and stood in front of the wretched girl on display. The Sheik forced his fingers into the slavegirl’s mouth, causing her to squeal as he opened her lips wide, to inspect her teeth.
Devon could hear him clearly.
‘Strong teeth. They will bear the bit well.’ He then began to poke and prod the girl’s thighs, arms and stomach muscles. ‘She is well muscled Mr. North. You are to be complimented on your training methods.’ He stroked the girl’s hair. ‘Ah! This one is not quite as blonde as the others.’ He turned to North. ‘Is this slave not a Christian?’
North smiled. ‘She is, but she has been dyed, Sheik Malik.’ He grabbed hold of the girl’s flowing locks and tugged, ignoring her protest. ‘But it’s growing out now.’ Then he pointed to her face. ‘Look at those blue eyes.’ He smoothed his hand over the girl’s exposed, unshaven sex. ‘And you can see, her pubic hair is truly blonde.’
The Sheik smiled, and nodded, satisfactorily. ‘Good. She will look well between the shafts of gig. She should fetch me a good price.’ He shrugged. ‘That is if I don’t find room for her in my own stable.’
Devon was beginning to boggle at this exhibition of disregard for human dignity. They really did treat women as though they were beasts, showing no more consideration than if they were buying cattle.
The Sheik caressed the bound girl’s ample breasts. ‘Such fine breasts, Mr. North. They will jiggle most enticingly, when she trots.’ He grinned. ‘And, you can be sure that my man, Abasi, will teach her to trot well.’ His hand reached out to grasp the soft globe of her left breast and his fingers dug deep into the flesh. Another sadistic smile split his bearded face, as the girl shuddered and moaned. He ignored the girl’s discomfort, and caressed her belly and hips. ‘She will also be good to play with I think.’ He nodded ‘Yes. I will take this one Mr. North.’ He took a large, felt-marker from the pocket of his robes and scrawled an Arabic symbol on the girl’s belly. ‘Now what else have we?’
He looked about then his eyes widened, as his gaze alighted on Devon. ‘Ah! Mr. North.! This is the one you told me about! The Senator’s daughter?’
Devon’s heart sank. Oh God! No! She began to tremble as they came towards her.
The Sheik stopped right in front of her and began caressing her body, allowing his fingers to probe her vagina; to knead the flesh of her thighs. Devon was then forced to suffer more indignity as the Sheik forced his strong, fingers into her mouth. ‘Good teeth again Mr. North.’ He shrugged. ‘But this one looks to be more suitable for training as a Pleasure Slave.’ He shook his head. ‘The teeth may have to be removed.’ He grinned, into Devon’s face. ‘Unless we can convince her it would be foolish to bite.’
Devon, shaking and gasping with fear, felt her bladder let go again and her urine ran free. She sobbed, in shame and degradation as she was forced to suffer the evil caress of this man, his hands wandering all over her exposed flesh, paying particular attention to her buttocks, and thighs. He fondled her ravaged genitals, and smiled as she wailed out, when he touched the raw, recent wound of her circumcision. ‘I see you have prepared her for us Mr. North.’
North grinned. ‘Yes Excellency. Circumcised, just as we know you like them.’ He shrugged. ‘As we do with all the stock we intend for the Middle East.’
Finally the Arab smiled. ‘Yes! I think so.’ He stroked Devon’s long hair and stared into her eyes. ‘Such a mane of fine hair was meant only to grace a pillow and this body was made to find itself writhing and moaning giving pleasure to her Master. Giving her body to a real man.’ He grinned and stepped back and then took out the marker pen once more.
He was interrupted by Adam North. ‘Ah! Excellency, I’m afraid this slave is to be auctioned.’ He shrugged. ‘You have to agree, even in her filth, she is exceptional. It’s only fair to give others their chance.’
The Sheik frowned then and his expression darkened. ‘But you always give me first choice Mr. North.’
‘Sheik Malik, you are a valued customer, but this time I have to accede to my colleagues’ wishes and offer her at auction.’
The Arab nodded. ‘Very well Mr. North.’ He grinned. ‘But I shall outbid anyone.’ He ran his hands over Devon’s body once more. ‘I must have her, whatever the cost!’
Devon was now quivering with bewildered fear and she was trying to stifle her sobs, knowing it would probably earn her another whipping. She was to be sold. Sold like a piece of merchandise in a market. And God help her! She was going to become the slave of an Arabian Sheik, who clearly didn’t like Christian women. The fact that she had never been particularly religious didn’t matter. To the Sheik, she was a Christian and she knew she would be made to suffer for it. What was to become of her?
The Sheik and Adam North moved away and Devon watched, in fascinated horror as the Sheik examined the other girls, selecting just one more slave. Then, Adam North said. ‘You may as well have your slaves taken away now Sheik.’
The Sheik nodded, and looking towards the doorway, snapped his fingers. ‘Abasi! Kadar!’
Two, huge, shaven-headed Lascars, came into the room. They were wearing white track suits and large, gold ear-rings, and each carried thin, leather quirts. In concert, they marched towards the Sheik, halted and bowed their heads. The taller of the two said. ‘Yes Effendi!’
The Sheik indicated the girls he’d marked. ‘Abasi, my friend, take these sluts to my boat!’
‘Immediately Effendi!’
Minutes later, the two men had unchained the two girls, who began to wail and protest. But, switching them into silence, each man picked up a girl and slung her over his shoulder. Then, they marched out, carrying their struggling, wailing burdens, on the start of a journey which would end in the sweltering heat of the Middle-East.
Adam North turned to the Sheik. ‘Shall we go to my office, Sheik? We can get the financial side of things sorted out and have a drink.’
The Sheik moved towards the door. ‘Certainly my Mr. North.’ He smiled. ‘But for me, something soft. Alcohol is a curse!’
The two men left the room and Devon began to shake, as she reflected on what was about to happen to her. She was going to join the two unfortunate wretches who had just been carried out of the room. Her life would be Hell from now on.
Then, from out of nowhere, the dwarf, Jinx was in front of her and he grinned into her face, holding up a pad of cotton-wool. Devon could smell the ether and she groaned as the grotesque creature placed the pad over her ringed nose and enveloping her mouth. In moments, she slipped into unconsciousness.
Chapter Six:
She had spent so long in a semi-daze; slipping in and out of consciousness, having vague memories of the hideous dwarf Jinx, pushing that huge needle through her septum. Then the blurred memories of being released from the wooden pole and being taken, halfconscious to a dank, filth room, where the ugly creature had left her.
Her mind had been full of half-formed dreams and thoughts, terror and shame as she tried to keep her senses, to work out what was happening to her. One thing she did realise was that although the monster had drugged her with the cotton pad, again, she was able to move for herself, to obey their commands, and go with them, yet knowing that she was in a dreamlike state. At least that helped relieve the pain of the torments she had suffered so recently.
That was until she felt a sudden blast of pure agony from the fresh wound in her nose, and she realised someone had clipped a chain to the ring, and was tugging at it. The pain jolted her into something approaching full awareness, and she soon made out the twisted form of the ugly dwarf, as careless of her cries and discomfort he dragged her from the tiny room, and out into the fresh air.
It was clear, sparkling, and the Sun was low in the sky. She guessed it was morning, but it was freezing and Devon immediately began to shiver, as the cold went through her. She also realised that although this was a new day, she now had no idea what the date was, or how long she had been in captivity. But those niceties were inconsequential as she gazed about in bewilderment and awe, at her surroundings.
There was a stone-flagged square, about forty feet to a side, and all around it there was stone terracing, so that she seemed to be in a small amphitheatre. Every few feet there was an entrance like the one they had just passed through and at the far end of the square, there was a raised, wooden platform, surrounded by a crowd of people, all dressed against the cold. The dwarf was leading her towards the crowd.
She stumbled, and the evil Jinx pulled on the chain, causing her to cry out as the tears started from her eyes, at the aggravation to the fresh wound in her septum. ‘Come on slave!’ he growled. ‘Move yourself!’
Devon bowed her head, accepting the hopelessness of her situation and staggered after him, feeling more bewildered than ever, as, fearfully, she glanced about her.
Then Devon’s eyes widened in terror as she noticed, all around the platform, heavy iron rings set in the stone and that some of these rings had naked, shivering girls chained to them, all crouching against the wall, all bearing the marks of the whip.
On top of the platform there were two more girls, both quite lovely, but with the familiar look of despair and hopelessness in their faces. The same look that Devon knew would be on her own face. The look that said they realised they were all slaves, prisoners for whom there could be no escape.
The slavegirl on the left was a raven-haired beauty, naked and kneeling on the stone flags. She was bent low, her face almost touching the stone, due to the short, iron bar running from the front of her collar to the large ring set in the floor.
The girl on the right, this one a blonde, was not quite naked, having been dressed in two-inch wide leather bondage straps, wrapped about her neck and criss-crossed, in a cruel weave, all about her torso and legs, pressing deep into her flesh to emphasise the shapely curves of her body, whilst displaying all her obvious attributes to the onlookers. Her arms were shackled in front of her body, but her wrists were secured to the large ring, set in her flesh, just below her breasts; thus ensuring, the delightful swell of her belly and shaven sex, was well displayed. A steel chain, also wrapped about her neck, led to the pole in the middle of the platform. She was shivering, her teeth making an audible chatter, as she looked in awe and fear at the small crowd, most of whom were slavering over the erotic sight she made.
Devon began to pull away from the horrors of the block, and she started to plead, ‘Please!’ she begged, ‘No! Please let me go!’
Swoooosh! Craaaack! Jinx growled at her and the whip shattered the still air, as the wicked lash cut into her thighs again.
‘Arrrgggggh! Aaieeeeeee!’ she sobbed. ‘Puh…puh…please N…N…No.!’
He ignored her. ‘Up on the block bitch!’ He tugged her towards the platform.
‘No! Please! No!’ Again, she resisted, trying to go back to the yard.
The dwarf growled and pulled her to the floor where he laid three short strokes across the top of her buttocks. ‘Move your arse and get up onto that block, slut!’
Sobbing, Devon got to her feet and began a slow ascent of the stone steps onto the block. Without being told, she sank to her knees in the centre of the block.
There was an immediate, appreciative gasp from the watching, crowd, eager whispers bounced about the area:
‘A Christian?’
‘Who cares? She’s a gorgeous little slut.’
‘I’d love to whip that sexy little arse!’
Devon’s cheeks reddened and she turned to her captor. ‘Please! Please! What’s happening! Ple....’
‘Stand up!’
Devon raised herself upright, but too slow for the dwarf.
The whip slashed into Devon’s exposed thighs and belly and she yelped out, cowering from him. ‘Please! No More!’
‘Then behave yourself.’ He shoved Devon between the two other girls on the block, and chained her to a free ring on the pole. Then he said, ‘Stay still, or it’s the whip!’ He turned to face the crowd.
Devon tried again, ‘Please! You can’t do this to me! I....!’
The dwarf merely jumped up onto a block of stone in front of the pole and cuffed her, across the face, ‘Shut it slave!’ Then he moved away, ignoring them all and began to speak, ‘Morning ladies and gents...’
Devon began to sob again, ‘Oh please...’
The blonde looked at her, angrily, ‘Shut your face you whining bitch, she hissed, ‘or we’ll all get the whip!’
‘They can’t do this!’
‘You stupid bitch!’ the blonde said, ‘Don’t you realise? We’re on an Island, miles from anywhere. They can do as they like with us! They’re going to sell us! We can’t stop them! We have to accept it! We’re slavegirls you stupid cow!’’
Then the dwarf turned from the crowd and growled in anger, ‘If there’s any explaining to do, I’ll do it!’ Still angry, he pushed Devon aside and unfastened the blonde from her ring. He dragged her away, down off the block and across to one of the entrances, pushing her through to the waiting attendants. ‘Sort her out!’ the dwarf said and turned back towards the block.
The crowd howled with delight, at this and turned towards the entrance, to savour the whistling of the lash, the sound of thin leather slashing into bare flesh and the squeals and screams, as the girl suffered her whipping. There was more screaming, before the bondage leathers sailed out into the yard. Then, sobbing and naked but for her heavy steel collar, she was herded back out into the arena. Her body was marked with the angry red welts from the lash and she held her head down in defeat and submission, as she was chained to one of the rings at the side of the block.
But not for long.
A beefy, red-faced man, in a sludge-grey caftan, stepped forwards, ‘I’ll give you five hundred for her!’
The dwarf displayed a wolfish smile, as the tall man sorted notes from his robes. ‘Seven hundred!’
‘Six!’
The dwarf shrugged, ‘Six-fifty.’
The man nodded, ‘A deal!’
The dwarf took the money. ‘Hope she serves you well.’
The man raised his whip above the cowering beauty, ‘she’ll soon learn!’
The dwarf chuckled and unclipped the girl, handing the length of chain over to the man. Then with no further ado, the buyer stalked off dragging his new slavegirl behind him, away to a pick-up truck, where he slung her onto the flat-bed and chained her down, before driving off with his purchase.
Devon was staring goggle-eyed at this exhibition; finally realising something similar would happen to her, if she didn’t obey the dwarf. Either way, she realised, she was going to be sold. She also had sense enough to know, her biggest worry, at the moment, was the fact that she may finish up as the property of Sheik Malik.
She cringed inside, as she felt the shame and humiliation fill her soul. The brutal Arab had made it clear; he would be bidding for her and she risked a lowered glance at the crowd. She felt a thrill of relief. At the moment though, she couldn’t see him. Maybe he wouldn’t be here at all. Maybe the Bastard North would be forced to let her go.
Then the sudden slash of the whip into her buttocks, made her cry out and she realised she had been day-dreaming. She shook in nervous anticipation as the crowd began to shout out,
‘Let’s see the bitch perform.’
‘No problem folks!’ The dwarf turned to Devon and grinned, reaching out; he removed Devon’s nose chain. Then he grabbed her breasts pulling downwards, ignoring her screams as the movement sent waves of agony through her, from the fresh wounds in her nipples.
The crowd shouted their approval as Devon reeled away from him, trying to get free of his gnarled, filthy hands. She was screaming out, ‘No! No! You can’t!’ Then, realising, she was being ogled by everyone there; she blushed, the humiliation almost overcoming her as she tried to cover her nakedness.
The dwarf switched the whip across her buttocks, grinning as Devon’s hands flew away from her breasts and went automatically to the hurt. He grabbed her wrists. ‘Leave your arms behind you slave!’
Devon sagged, and stood mutely on the block, knowing she must obey or be whipped. She sobbed, and her head bowed in shame and degradation.
The dwarf began to fondle her breasts, lifting the rounded globes up, pulling on her nipple-rings, sneering as Devon winced at the pain this caused. The dwarf turned back to the crowd, ‘How’s that for a pair of tits?’ he said, beaming at the crowd. ‘Come on lads! Wouldn’t you like to get those in your teeth! He turned to Devon again and this time, sneered at her, ‘You’re a filthy stinking whore. What are you?’
Devon felt the indignation burying her shame and her cheeks flushed with anger. ‘Damn you, you gruesome little freak!’ I’m not….’ Aaiiieeee Arrghhhhh! Nooo! Please stop!’ Her senseless tirade ended in fearful wails as the whip swooshed and cracked into her flesh. Grabbing her breasts again, the dwarf pulled her down to her knees and held the whip aloft. ‘I shan’t tell you again slut. Now, what are you! Tell us.’
She held her head down, and sobbing with shame and degradation said ‘I…I…I. I’m a filthy st.st.stinking whore,’ she sobbed out.
A gasp of pleasure sounded from the crowd as Devon stuttered in her shame.
Jinx ignored her discomfiture and went on, ‘This is good meat ladies and gents.’ He pushed her forwards, ‘Not a virgin.’ He giggled. ‘Well, she might have been when she arrived, but I doubt it!’ He waited for the crowd’s laughter to quieten down then went on, ‘She’s been freshly cut too. No clit to get in the way of a Master’s pleasure. So, who’ll start me off at a hundred!’
A thin, bearded man raised his arm, ‘I’ll go there!’
Then a severe faced woman, said, ‘And fifty!’
‘And fifty again!’ came from another woman.
Devon began to sob quietly to herself, hanging her head, shivering with fright, with shame and with the cold.
The dwarf looked disappointed and raised Devon’s head with the handle of his whip, ‘Come on ladies and gents! She’s gorgeous! Who’ll give me another fifty.’
A bald headed man raised his arm.
‘Thank you sir!’ the dwarf said, looking around for more bids.
‘And another hundred!’ It was the severe faced woman again.
‘Any more!’
Silence.
The dwarf held the whip in front of Devon’s face, and whispered fiercely, ‘kneel slave!’
Still shivering, her mind seething with shame and embarrassment, Devon obeyed.
The dwarf untied her hair, allowing the golden mane to fall about her abused body. He waited again as the crowd’s admiring gasps diminished, and then he shook the whip in front of Devon’s face, ‘Come on slave!’
Devon was puzzled, ‘Please I don’t unders...’ She screamed out as the whip lashed into her breasts.
Jinx growled at her. ‘Hurry bitch! I won’t wait for ever!’ Again he shook the whip in front of Devon’s face, so close she caught the scent of the leather,
Then Devon understood what he wanted her to do, and blushing, trembling with shame, she leant forwards and placed a soft kiss on the butt of the whip.
The crowd gave a roar of delight as they saw this, and Jinx draped the leather around Devon’s neck, to stroked the lash across her back, allowing it to slide, like a snake, away over her breasts, ‘See folks!’ he said, ‘untrained, but she knows the whip! A natural slave!’
The dwarf then coiled the whip and stuck it in his belt. He bent over Devon and cradled her chin in his left hand. His other hand went to her genitals and he started a gentle massage of her sex-mound. His fingers found the raw spot where her clit had been and she began to tremble as she tried to shut out pain and the shame. Inside her mind, deep down, she knew she had often wondered what it would be like to be circumcised, what it would feel like, to be played with without a bud to experience pleasure. She knew it was done to thousands of women in this part of the world. Now she was going to find out.
She felt tears sliding over her cheeks as the evil Jinx aggravated the fresh wound, and squirmed trying to avoid his caress. But it was hopeless. If she moved, the whip would sear her again. Then she felt a sudden tingling inside. Oh God no! Not again. The shame of North making her cum had been devastating, but now here in front of these baying lunatics. She would die of shame. And in any case, she didn’t want this animal to make her juice, but God! It was so difficult. Her face screwed up with humiliation, as she realised she was failing and despite the fact there was nothing there any more, her juices began to flow.
The dwarf drew away and pushed her aside, cleaning the juices from his hand, by using Devon’s hair as a towel. He nodded to the severe faced woman, said, ‘Step up Madam. Feel her juice yourself!’ The dwarf grinned. ‘Like I said, she’s a natural!’
Then Devon felt her heart stop, before it slammed into her throat.
Sheik Malik had walked into the arena, shouldering his way through the small knot of people. He stepped up onto the block and Devon caught her breath, feeling her bladder contract with fear. The Sheik had a cruel sneer on his face and he leant over Devon and slid his strong, slim fingers into her sex.
Devon gasped in shock and pain and tried to pull away from him, but, clearly well practised, he held her still, by the hair. Ignoring her struggles, he massaged Devon’s parts for a few moments before nodding, ‘Show me your teeth slave!’
Shaking, trembling, Devon knew she had to be obedient now, and blushing with embarrassment, she opened her mouth, suffering the Arab to shove his wet fingers into her mouth, obliging her to taste her own juices.
Then he stepped back, and looked thoughtful.
‘Sheik Malik,’ Jinx interjected, ‘you’ll like her. Strong. She’ll pull an oar well.’
The Arab pondered for a moment, and then nodded. ‘All right my friend. Five hundred then!’
The dwarf beamed again and then stroked Devon’s quivering body and face with the whip, ‘You already kissed it slave! Now kiss it like you mean it. Like you want to. Let Sheik Malik see what you’re worth.’ The dwarf grinned at her and lifted the whip, ‘Or you’ll feel it across your back!’
Devon shivered in fright, but she knew full well what was expected of her. She reached for the whip and pulled it to her mouth. Her mind seethed with disgust and shame, but she knew she had to make it look real. Her actions became lascivious, as she began to kiss the whip; sucking and licking; sliding her tongue over the leather, groaning in mock ecstasy; behaving as though the whip was a huge, male organ. She moaned, ‘Oh yes Master!’ Twice more, Devon kissed and sucked at the whip, whimpering in abandon.
But there was no further offer from Sheik Malik.
Then, with one sudden, vicious swipe of the whip, across Devon’s freezing buttocks, the dwarf said. ’SOLD!’
Sheik Malik, gave an impassive nod, and handed over the money. He looked at Devon, ‘Now my little Christian slut!’ he said slowly, ‘we take you away. Soon, we really see how well you entertain.’ He snapped his fingers and his attendant, Amul forced his way through the crowd. He was holding a coiled dog-whip in his hand and, as he stepped up onto the block, he stuck his free hand inside his jumper and withdrew a black, leather hood. He looked at the Sheik. ‘The hood Effendi?’
Sheik Malik nodded. ‘And hurry Amul!’
‘Yes Master!’ Amul grabbed Devon’s neck, pushed her head downwards and slipped the blind-hood over her hair, tightening the strap, almost throttling her. He adjusted the hood, aligning the eye slits and then, taking the neck chain, he lifted her onto his shoulder, his arm about her legs, his other hand pulling the neck chain taught, so Devon’s upper body was stretched full length down his back. Then he stepped easily down from the block and walked across the arena and through one of the tunnels.
Outside the arena, Devon could just make out the limousine parked in a large open area of gravel. Amul walked to the car, and leaning through the window, pressed a switch. The soft top at the rear slid, silently open and, as if Devon were a sack of potatoes, he dumped her onto the rear seats, where she sprawled across the leather upholstery. He clipped the end of the chain to one of the door handles, and then closed the soft-top down again. He turned, as Sheik Malik came up behind him. Amul bowed his head, ‘She is ready Effendi! We go?’
Sheik Malik nodded. ‘Yes Amul. We go.’ A cold smile. ‘When we reach my Palace, have her taken to the kennels. See the Christian bitch gets a proper welcome to my home.’ He chuckled… ‘Then shave her mound, ready for ringing.’ A sadistic grin split his features, as he watched the helpless Devon begin to shake with fear, obviously hearing and understanding him, as, of course, he had clearly intended her to do. ‘I think she will soon begin to wish she had not been born a white Christian, yes Amul?’
‘Indeed Effendi!’ The black man opened the door and Sheik Malik climbed into the seat, shoving Devon up to a sitting position. As the soft top came back over the car, it was immediately warmer and Devon began to stop shivering. But it was only brief respite, for the Sheik opened a small compartment in the back of the driver’s seat and took out a syringe and a small phial. He filled the needle and leaning over, sank it into Devon’s upper arm.
This time, Devon collapsed into complete unconsciousness.
Chapter Seven:
Devon moaned to herself as he woke. Then her heart slammed about in fright as she realised she was in half-darkness; naked and freezing, with a fierce draught of cold air whistling from somewhere ahead, rushing past her exposed flesh. She gasped out loud and stared in terror into the gloom, her panic growing. Where the Hell was she? Things stared coming back to her. She vaguely recalled the secret office behind the bookshelves; Adam North, Gaine and the bitch Barbara Green.
She whimpered to herself as she recalled the sadistic Gaine and his slashing at her flesh with the cane. She could still feel the burning ache where the welts had risen, numbing a little but still throbbing, and hot with pain. And worse, there was the unbearable burning sensation in her virgin anus and she felt sick with the shame and the horror of being forced to sit over the ugly dwarf’s huge, stinking and misshapen shaft. Forced by Gaine, and blows of the heavy rattan, to ride the repulsive little creature, while all around her, the people in the room had looked on, laughing, jeering and spitting on her. Oh God! The names they had called her. But then those things receded a little in her mind as she became fully aware of her immediate predicament.
She was in a small iron cage; her arms stretched upwards and outwards, her slender wrists fastened to the top of the cage. Around her ankles she could feel the clutch of cold steel, fastening her feet to the bottom of her tiny prison. The cage was tipped slightly forwards, and she could see it was chained onto the bed of a wooden cart, with large, wooden wheels. The cart itself was in rough stone-walled room, about twenty feet square, and was placed at the mouth of what appeared to be a dark arched entrance way. She was tilted forwards, the cart resting on its straight shafts, connected by a wooden spar. Whatever was going to happen now, she had no idea, but she realised she had never felt so alone and vulnerable. Abandoned, left to the mercy of fate, and her stomach churned inside as she anticipated fearful, unimaginable experiences to come.
Devon risked a fearful glance down her body.
There was enough light for her to see the glint of metal from the chains that were wrapped tightly about her waist. She wanted to scream out but there was nothing she could muster above a whimper, for breathing was becoming difficult. Her diaphragm could barely move, and she felt as if she was being cut in half, by the thin, savage chains that tightly encircled her waist. As if that wasn’t pain enough, the chains had also been wrapped about her waist, yanked hard down between her thighs, and then back between her tender sex-lips.
The wicked chains had been tugged deep into her raw, tender sex, and then pulled, upwards between her buttocks, digging into the tender ring of her already torn and raved anus. The tension on the chain and the pressure along her spine, told her that the ends of the chain had been wound around her neck and each time she moved the wicked chains cut deeper into her flesh, choking, abrading her soft, defenceless skin, giving more pain. To make matters worse, there was a vile taste of rubber in her mouth and her stretched lips were sore, forced wide open by a ball-gag that had been rammed behind her teeth and secured behind her head, with tight straps, which dug cruelly into her face. Her saliva dripped continually over her naked front, increasing her discomfort from the cold, as she breathed noisily through the holes in the ball-gag.
She felt degraded; dirty and ashamed, and her nose was full of the stink of her own unwashed flesh and the damp smell of aged stonework. Through the battered, rusty bars of the cage, she could just make out that at the other end of the arched way; there was a huge double gate, made of wood. Her mind was still muzzy, as though she had been drugged, but she was able to make out the muted sound of a crowd, the noise coming from beyond the gates. She shivered in fright, as she tried to push down the scary thoughts of what lay beyond those gates. She knew one thing. Whatever it was, it would be unpleasant for her.
Heart pounding with fear, she strained to see into the gloom, but there was nothing more she could see. Her head drooped and she moaned into the gag, her voice becoming a soft gurgle. She knew this was no dream. This was happening to her, her muscles quivering with the strain of the awkward position in which they had been chained. Now she had to believe! She really had been abducted by them and this was their alternative to prison. Oh God! Why had she been so stupid; so naïve as to take that money and believe she could get away with it? She shivered and shook, sobbing into the ball-gag, as she began to wonder if prison could have been any worse than this. What was going to become of her?
Then her heart leapt again and her stomach lurched, as there was a sudden commotion inside the arched entrance. She heard the Swoooosh of a whip and the loud crack, as it connected with flesh; followed immediately by the keening wail of a female voice. Suddenly a naked dark-haired white girl was sent sprawling into the arched entrance from a side door just ahead. She fell to her belly on the floor just in front of the cart, followed quickly by huge blackman in a grey caftan, who leaped from the doorway, and slashed into her naked flesh with his whip.
The screaming, sobbing girl struggled to her feet and trying to avoid the slashing whistling, leather she scrabbled towards the cart, where panic-stricken, and without a glance up at Devon, got herself in between the shafts of the cart.
The black man snarled, ‘Move your Christian ass slut.’ He stepped over to her, lifted the shafts, the cart, tilting back so suddenly, causing Devon to be thrown against the harsh steel shackles again, sending shockwaves of pain through her yet again. She cried out through the gag, but the black man was oblivious to her plight. He concentrated on fastening a yoke around the girl’s shoulders, and shackling her wrists to the cross bar of the cart. Then with one last blow of the whip across her naked thighs, he lifted her head by pulling on her hair. Snarling into the terrified girl’s face he said. ‘Get ready to haul Christian pig.’ He loosed her. ‘And remember, the slower you go the worse it will be for you and the slut in the cage.’
He came over to look up at Devon. ‘And as for you slave, welcome to the Sheikdom of Palos.’ He grinned up at her. ‘You won’t like our island very much, but all the same, you’re about to meet some of our fine people.’
He turned away and walked towards the huge gates, and straining with the effort, swung open the doors. Brilliant, harsh daylight flooded through and Devon screwed her eyes shut as the sunlight dazzled her. Also her ears were assaulted by the sudden throaty swell of human voices, and she realised she was going to be taken through the gates, and out into the wide street beyond.
The robed black man came back to the cart and grabbed the girl’s hair and hauled her forwards, slashing at her sweating back with the whip. ‘Now move pig!’ he bawled.’ Move that white ass. Push into the yoke.’
The girl, screamed out, flinched, and tried to roll the blows, but she heaved and grunted as she got the cart moving, urged on by the cracking, lashing whip.
There was a slight slope downwards it seemed for suddenly the cart began started to move faster, out through the open gates and into a cobbled street about twenty feet wide. To each side of the cobbled way, there was a line of people, standing waiting, jeering, shouting. Then they began. A rain of rotten fruit and mud was being thrown at her and the unfortunate girl who was struggling to pull the cart. Then the slope steepened, so the girl between the shafts was slithering about as she tried desperately to hold the cart from running away with her, and dragging her along the filthy cobbles.
Parris was screaming and writhing, her mind a seething morass of shame and humiliation as the laughing, jeering uncaring crowd pelted her and her companion with waste food, rotten fruit and eggs; anything that was soft and smelly it seemed to Devon, In seconds her flesh became smeared an soiled with filth. She gagged and retched, but knew that if she threw up, it would eventually mean the whip, or worse, the goad. She tried to shut her mind to the tumult around her but the jeers were continual, virtually unintelligible, but she could make out the occasional words, ‘Infidel’, and ‘Christian’, as the crowd poured its scorn on her.
Then the slope levelled off and the girl between the shafts fell to her knees gasping, coughing, splathering all down her naked front, then crying out as the weight of the cart pushed her along the cobbles, sloughing skin off her knees. Like Devon she was covered in slime and mud, having come in for almost as much of the shower of garbage as Devon.
Then, the black man appeared again and there was the loud crack! The whip shattered the air, and scorched across the girls between the shafts. She arched back screaming and then sobbing scrambled to her knees, to begin pushing on the yoke again. As a whip cracked loudly the jabbering, jeering crowd began to disperse and soon there was just Devon, the other girl, struggling to keep the cart moving, and the overseer, cracking the whip across the sweating straining girl’s back.
Devon was still being thrown about inside the small cage, and the steel bonds chafed and rubbed, the chains gouging deeper into all her sensitive tissues, as she screamed in to the gag. ‘Unngghhh! Nuughhhh… Ghhhoooddd… nnuuunnhh!’ Her voice turning to unintelligible grunts. She might as well have saved her breath. No one cared.
Her heart was racing, her mind was in turmoil and she screamed into the gag, her futile struggles against her chains, causing even more agony, as the girl, urged on by the whip, continued to push against the cruel yoke, her feet slipping and sliding on the shiny uneven cobbles. Chained as she was, Devon was able to do nothing to help herself, and the manacles cut into her wrists and ankles, as the cart lurched about, on its journey along the narrow, deserted street.
Then the slope began to level out and the girl was managing to keep the cart moving more easily until the black overseer, crashed the whip into the girl’s shoulders again. ‘Halt slut!’
Wailing, the girl stopped, and drooped against the bar, the yoke falling against the nape of her neck. Grinning widely the black guard took the chance to slash the whip across the girl’s presented ass, and chuckled as she screamed out, wriggling her hips to ride the blow.
‘Stay there slut,’ he said, as he walked towards a door in the wall of the building to the right.
Devon felt her composure returning a little, and she welcomed the respite from the continual lurching. Yet still she was burned to the core with shame, as she felt the slime and mess over her body, blushing as she thought about what a sight she must look.
She risked a glance towards the doorway, where she saw a slight glow of light, and then her heart leapt as she heard the coarse sound of mens’ voices, and their guttural evil, laughing. She could make out the occasional word, and her face burned with shame and horror a she heard the words branding, and slave.
For the thousandth time, she wished she had told Adam North what to do with his punishment. Even prison would have been better than the life that faced her, if she couldn’t escape these lunatics. Then her spirits sank, and her head dropped to her chest, as she sagged in her bonds, past caring now, as the pain took over her mind. She was drifting again, either sleep or unconsciousness was claiming her
‘Unnngghhh, nnnnuuhhh…’ Her saliva dribbled unheeded through the gag and she sobbed quietly as the tide of pain washed through her. Then she gabbled into the ball-gag again as a fresh surge of terror shook her body as she heard the cage door being opened.
Her eyes snapped wide open, to see that the other girl was being pulled roughly from the yoke, to be dragged away by her hair, another negro, pulling her along the street towards another door further down, As her cries faded, the front of the cage was pulled aside with a clatter, and Devon screamed into the gag. ‘Arrghhhhieeh uuhhhnnn!’ A sudden, vicious cuff across the face sent her head reeling and a display of sparkling lights danced before her eyes.
Then to her immense relief, the gag was unfastened and jerked roughly out of her mouth. She had just enough time to draw in a longed for gulp of air, and see the four, sweating, half-naked blackmen who came out of the doorway, to stand in front of her, before the taller of them stepped forwards
Then there was darkness as a half-hood was draped over her head and buckled tight, covering her eyes and ears.
Then she began to wail, as coarse hands mauled her naked body; hands which prodded and probed; trying to enter her vagina and anus; roaming over her breasts.
‘Nnnooo… Puh…Puh…please stop…. Don’t…. Unnnhhh Unnngghhh!’ Her cries were ignored, as strong fingers, fumbled uncaringly with the tight chains about her body, loosening them so they could invade invaded her sex; pinching. Kneading the flesh of her buttocks and thighs, clawing deep into her breasts; twisting the rings in her sore nipples. They took cruel handfuls of the soft flesh of her belly, and dug their fingers into her, twisting the flesh, casing intense pain. And all the while, uncaring of her plight, these animals were braying, laughing, as they tormented her.
Her struggles were automatic but futile, and, as her ordeal went on, she realised the chains were now being removed from her arms, and legs. She heard a man’s voice, as someone unshackled her from the cage. Her heart sank as she realised she really was awake and nothing had been a dream.
Then she was thrown to the floor, to sprawl, defenceless on her back, wincing as rough stone scraged her skin. Strong hands grabbed her wrists and ankles, pinning her down. She moaned as once more she felt more metal bands being fastened around her ankles and wrists, felt the rough stone floor taking more skin off her back. She struggled, but in vain as horrified, she waited for the men above her.
As she lay trembling, she realised what was about to happen. They were going to rape her! Then she gasped out in terror, as she felt something cold and hard being placed about her neck. There was a noisy fiddling just below her right ear, a series of metallic, clinking sounds. Then she jumped, in shock, as a loud clang sounded, almost deafening her, then a tattoo of smaller tapping noises.
In horror, she realised what had been done to her, as she felt the weight of the circle of iron around her neck. God! They had riveted a collar on her!
She screamed into the hood, angry now. ‘What the Hell do you bastards….’
Shhtsssssk! Craaaack!’ She barely had time to realise that the sound was the howl of a whip, before she screamed out. ‘Aieeeeee. Arrghhhhh’ as the blow landed, causing her eyes to almost pop from her head and the veins in her neck bulged as she rolled and pulled at her shackles. She howled in pain and torment as the leather cut across her stomach, searing a stinging, burning path right down into her exposed and vulnerable sex.
Her screaming and shaking became wild, demented almost and her heart was racing in mad panic now. Oh God! What was happening to her, how had she got into this terrifying nightmare?
But it was no nightmare!
The half-hood was wrenched away and replaced with another, this one wringing wet and stinking of sweat. The hood was without eye-slits, blinding her, again, as one of the men wrenched her nose through the hole in the front of the tight hood. She could still smell the hood though. God, the stench! The vile stench; a mix of ammonia, human waste, and disinfectant. It was too much to bear and she gagged, vomiting into the lower half of the hood.
The men didn’t seem to notice and she groaned as the hood was buckled tight about her neck, trapping her own vomit inside, where it slid about her neck and chin, adding to the vile stink. Her retching got worse, and she felt she was about to die from shame and humiliation, as she heard the men laughing.
‘She stinks!’
‘Yeah…’ another said. ‘She’s a filthy stinking white slut!’
‘An infidel… A Christian pig!’
Desperately she tried to shut out the insults and the taunts, but she knew she couldn’t. She had never known such humiliation. She had no time to ponder as she felt her wrists and ankles being released and she drew in a gasp of terror as she realised a chain was being clipped to her nose ring. Someone prodded her buttocks with his toe and sneered, ‘On your knees bitch! And move yourself!’
Bewildered, terrified and shaking, Devon obeyed, as quickly as she could. Then she screamed into the hood, ‘Arrghhhhh… N…n…nooo!’ writhing as searing, burning pain slashed across her buttocks, and she knew she’d been whipped again.
‘Shut it slut.’ He tugged on the chain. ‘Or I’ll really lay the whip on your ass.’
She hung her head and tried to hold back the sobs, her shoulders heaving with the effort.
The man ignored her anguish and tugged sharply on the chain, bringing tears to her eyes as she felt as f her nose would be pulled off. Then once more he pushed the toe of his boot into her buttocks. ‘Crawl bitch. Down to the slavekennels!’
She started to obey, and then gasped out and almost collapsed to her belly as suddenly one of the men sat astride her back. She squealed out in agony, again as, once more, a whip cut into her buttocks. The man’s heels dug into her thighs and, sobbing her fright into the hood, but knowing she had no option, Devon began to crawl forwards, wincing and sobbing as tears were forced from her eyes, by the tugging chain in her nose-ring. .
Still in a stupor, sobbing with shame, consumed by the humiliation, Devon moved as best she could; blind; wondering; groaning, as the man’s weight forced her downwards, so her breasts were touching the floor. The loose shale on the floor, raked and scratched her breasts, causing sears of agony as her freshly pierced nipples dragged through the loose grit. Her hands and knees were being flayed too; as his weight seemed to get worse the further they went. She gagged at the stink of vomit around her face and nose and her mind was a hurricane of fear, shame and horror. What were they going to do next? Was she to be raped? Killed? Or was she to be tortured, or was all this a vivid nightmare? Or maybe...!
Her terrified thoughts were interrupted then, as she was pulled up, by a savage jerk on her collar, the steel causing her to retch as it dug into her throat. The weight was gone from her back as the man stood up and she heard someone say, ‘To heel bitch and turn left!’
Even in her state of bewildered despair, Devon knew, for now at least she must obey. Or be whipped! So, sobbing, and grimacing at the soreness inflicted by the harsh shale, she crawled like a submissive dog, towards the man until she felt his leg against her right side.
The stinking hood was unbuckled and as it was dragged off her head, a rising stench of stale body odours hit her nostrils like a wall and she heard the buzzing of flies darting towards her filth covered body.
Then someone pushed her to her side, so she rolled into a pile of wet, filthy straw and Devon gagged as she felt dirt being smeared over her body, and a rising stink of stale human waste engulfed her. More flies swarmed about her, as she was dragged to her feet again. The man was shaking her, growling the words, ‘Stand in the archway slut!’
She struggled again, but could do nothing as she was herded into the centre of a stone arch, part of the vaulted ceiling. She barely had time to register her surroundings before her arms were pulled savagely outwards and her wrists were tied, to rings set in the pillars to each side of her. Coarse hands began rubbing a hot, greasy substance all over her body and she struggled, against her bonds. The she began to shiver as the sticky mess began to cool and she moaned, ‘Please! Let me....’
Swooooooosh! Craaaack! A whip slashed into her thighs, the sound of the blow echoing about the dark vaulted room. She wailed out, but immediately bit her lips tightly and fell silent; knowing what would happen if she protested again.
The man chuckled, ‘Just a little grease slut! Make your skin look nice.’ He caressed her breasts and belly, gazing intently at her body, ‘Help keep you warm down here.’ He giggled then, ‘Makes the whip hurt even more.’ Swooooooosh! Craaaack! Another slash of the whip stung her belly and he laughed as she wailed out. Then, lapsing into silence, the man continued to apply the grease to her skin.
Moments later, he stepped back, ‘Nice and shiny slave!’ He giggled again as another voice snarled. ‘Now for the finishing touch!’
Devon frowned as she looked up and saw the man in front of her. He was holding something that looked like a heavy net. Then she realised it wasn’t a net, but a Basque, a strange looking one, made of coarse rope, woven into a diamond net-pattern.
She could do nothing but whimper, as the strange garment was placed about her body, and adjusted so her nipples were pushed right out, through the wider holes in the bra-cups. Then they began to lace up the Basque. It was tight to begin with but, as they tugged on the lace at the back, Devon began to gasp for air, as she wriggled against the constriction. She could feel her soft flesh being squeezed, feel her nipples pushing out further as the stiff, wire frames of the bra-cups were forced upwards, beneath her bosom, forming a platform for her well-rounded breasts; breasts which soon became piled high, so her cleavage looked like the cleft between the globes of a baby’s bottom.
Despite herself, she knew her nipples were becoming turgid, as they were stimulated by the pressure. The slight layer of subcutaneous fat around her belly, waist and back, was also beginning to protrude between the mesh, forming into little diamond shaped mounds as the weave of the Basque dug deep into her flesh.
Then finally, the tightening was over and one of the men ran his hands over her tightly encased belly and breasts, ‘Looks good on you slut!’ He said, pinching one of the mounds of flesh sticking through the net at the side of her waist. He gave a sadistic chuckle, ‘Pinch an inch!’
There were no suspenders on this basque. Just a length of thin chain hanging at the front and rear of the hem. They spread her legs, then pulled the rear chain forwards through the vee of her thighs, jerking the links, tight between her labia, laughing as she yelled out in her discomfort. Then they clipped the chain to the front of her collar. Then they did the same thing with the front chain, clipping that to her collar, at the back of her neck.
She screamed out as the cruel chains dug into her sex, scraged against her pubic bone, and once again, aggravated her recent circumcision. The pressure spread the puckered flesh between her buttocks, and she blushed, as she felt the shame of her anal raping again. Then another ball-gag was forced between her lips and secured tightly about her face. Her arms were released from the rings in the wall and her wrists were bound behind her and pushed high up her back, secured to the rear of the collar. Next, two of the men lifted her, like a side of beef, and hooked the mesh of the basque, between her shoulders, over a hook in the wall.
Devon grunted into the gag, as she felt her weight coming on her bent-back arms and the chains cutting deeper into her sex-lips.
Then she wailed and screamed, as she heard the Swoooosh! of the whip again.
Craaaaaaccckkk! Craaaack! Swoooosh! Craaaack!
Time and time again the leather whistled through the air, landing on her trussed body and fearful pain filled her mind as she gurgled her agony into the gag, wriggling and bucking against the confining basque, in a futile attempt to avoid the lash, as blow after blow, ripped into her defenceless form.
Finally, the whipping ceased and she heard the man again, ‘Welcome to the kennels slut!’ He giggled, ‘That’s just to remind you to obey us at all times! Understand slave?’
Hardly aware of what she was doing, Devon nodded, dumbly and sobbed into the gag, splathering saliva and mucus all over her sweating, brutalised torso. She sobbed as she was lowered to the filthy floor, one of the men supporting her weight. Then there was the cool kiss of another chain, as it was shackled to the side of her collar. Another blind-hood, a clean one this time, was slipped over her head and buckled, tightly, around her neck. The whip slashed into her buttocks once again and she was ordered to stand.
Trembling, she struggled to her feet, and then screamed into the gag, arching her hips forwards as another stroke of the whip slashed into the soft, rounded globes of her buttocks. Again the whip cut into her flesh, this time across the backs of her thighs and she heard the man snarl, ‘Walk on slut!’
Sobbing, Devon stumbled on, unable to see, just able to stand, with only her legs free to move. She screamed, trying, in vain, to evade the vicious slashes of the whip, each time she slowed. Submissive now, Devon sobbed into the gag, wondering what was to happen to her.
She was halted by a sharp tug on the neck chain, and she gasped as once more the whip cut into the backs of her thighs. She was pushed to the floor where, immediately, she felt the sting of yet another needle in her upper arm. More drugs! God! How much more could she take?
She tried to shake her head, but it was hopeless. Her mind drifted into half-awareness and, as she hovered on the brink of unconsciousness, she had a moment’s recall; enough to remember again, the secret room adjoining Adam North’s office
Now, here she was, chained, and naked, in some stinking, Arabian Hell-hole. She really had been abducted! No! Not just abducted. She had been enslaved for God’s sake! There could be only one purpose behind all this. She could only guess, but somehow she knew she would finish up in a filthy brothel in some stinking little town. She shuddered. For sure, she was going to be used, like so much meat, for sexual purposes. She also knew there would be no return journey! Strange images fluttered about her mind and she was sure she could see men in white, flowing Arabian robes; hear the sound of Eastern music as the Pentothal robbed her of coherent thought.
Chapter Eight:
Devon slowly awoke, experiencing a low, insistent buzzing in her ears. Her mouth felt dry, tongue like a ball of wool in her mouth and her stomach was grumbling or lack of food to find that she was kneeling, head low down, but apparently unaided. Her half-hooded face was almost touching the floor and she could smell the dust in the carpet. She wanted to sneeze, but as her full awareness returned, she realised that if anyone was in the room, she might be whipped if she did sneeze.
She moaned to herself, trying to ease the discomfort of being bent almost double, her hands still secured tightly up her back. For a few moments, her ears still rang with the noise, but gradually, this went away, and she realised someone was in the room with her, as she saw the pair of sandaled feet, just showing from beneath the hem of a snow-white caftan.
She knew she was in the presence of the Sheik, and she also knew she dared not raise her head. Not that she felt inferior to the jerk, but she knew what would happen if she didn’t remain motionless. Still looking askance at the hem of the caftan, she trembled as she tried to sort out what was happening.
Then the Sheik spoke. ‘Look at me, slave.’
Her stomach lurched, and she blinked away tears as she realised she was going to obey, because she knew she had to. She raised her head slowly to look at the man. His black eyes glittered, beneath his dark brows, and his nut brown face, radiated confidence even from behind the well kept, dark beard.
‘You realise who I am?’
Feeling her stomach rolling with shame, Devon answered. ‘You are my Master.’
He grinned, obvious pleasure in his face. ‘You are learning. And you’ve not been as difficult as I was led to believe.’
Devon smothered the desire to hurl insults at him, knowing she would only suffer if he did. She had to play along. Sooner or later, someone would find her. Until then, she must put up with these maniacs, and their brutish ways. Then her mind clouded and her spirits plummeted, as she realised what privations she was likely to have to bear. She was under no illusions. They could and probably would treat her much worse than they had so far. She knew full well, she was looking at a living Hell.
The Sheik drew out a short, flexible cane from his robes, and began to bend it gently as he looked at her. ‘You aren’t going to cause me any trouble.’ Not a question. A statement of fact.
Devon said softly. ‘No Master.’ Realising with shame that she actually meant it.
‘Of course not.’ He Swished the cane through the air then pointed to the floor, close to his feet. ‘Here slut. And hurry’’
Devon made to stand up but she was halted as the cane cut through the air.. Craaaaack!’
‘Aaiiieeee…!’ She yelled out. And bit back a sob. ‘Please Master…’
Crawl to me slut.’ He hissed. He leaned forwards. ‘Slavegirls do not walk unless they are told to. They crawl; everywhere. Is that clear?’
Tears still running, she sobbed, and nodded. ‘Yes Master.’
He leaned back as Devon hobbled on her knees towards his feet. Then he stopped her by touching the cane to her shoulder. ‘That’s close enough.’
Devon stopped and lowered her head, mumbling. ‘Yes Master.’
He tipped up her chin with the cane. ‘You think you will escape. Is that why you are suddenly compliant?’
‘No Master.’ Devon tried to reassure him.
He shook his head. ‘You don’t tell lies very well slut.’ He stood up and slashed the cane across her shoulder blades. Craaaaaaccckkk!
‘Unnngghhh! Aiieieeehhh!’ She cried and hunched herself into a defensive ball.
‘Lying is something else that will not be tolerated. The next time you lie, slut, I will have your tongue ringed and fastened to your collar. Is that clear?’
Shuddering and shaking, horrified at the mere notion, Devon stuttered. ‘Y.Y.Yes. Ma.Ma.Master.’
‘And if that doesn’t do any good.’ He went on. ‘Then I shall have your tongue cut out, put on a plate, and you will be made to eat it.’
Her mind recoiled as she wondered just how far these perverts would go. She felt her heart hammering as she suddenly went dizzy, the thought of such an act of pure barbarism. God! Where in Hell was she? How had she landed up among such fiends?
He sat down again, and started the bending routine with the cane. ‘You are here for one purpose, slut.’ He said. ‘That is to give pleasure to me, and any guests I might decide would appreciate using you.’ He stared down at her. ‘You are nothing. Meat. A slave. An infidel slut who will be used as we see fit. That is to be your life. Do you understand now?’
Devon felt her guts roiling, and her heart felt as though it was sinking into her bowels. Damn them, she would never give in. but dear God she would be made to suffer. She nodded slowly and mumbled. ‘Yes Master.’
‘Good. Then we will have no cause to punish you, other than for our pure enjoyment!’ He leaned towards her again. ‘I give my girls a slave-name, but I have to see how you respond first.’ He grinned evilly. ‘So for now, you are just Number Ten. You understand?’
The shame burned deeper. Now she wasn’t even a person. Just a damn number! ‘Yes Master.’
‘Who are you then slut?’
She looked up, fighting back tears. ‘Number Ten, Master.’
He smiled and nodded. ‘Good slave.’ He beamed. ‘I think you really are learning.’ Then he and stood up, ignoring the pathetic huddle of his new slave.
‘Amul!’ he shouted.
A moment later the door of the sumptuous room opened and the huge black walked in. ‘Effendi!’
The Sheik pointed to Devon. ‘Number Ten is ready for you. Ring her sex, and brand her.’
Devon looked up, her face a mask of horror.
Craaaack!
The cane slashed into her breasts. And she yelped like wounded animal, folding into a tiny ball again.
‘Stay still slut. How many times must you be told?’
She looked up carefully, her face full of pleading, her tears running… ‘Please Master. Pleasseee… Don’t…’
The cane slashed into her again. ‘Silence!’ The Sheik grabbed her hair and shook her fiercely, rattling her teeth together, causing her to bite her tongue. Then he spat on her and cast her aside.
Sobbing Devon slumped into a huddle again, her shoulders heaving and her heart thumping in her chest, as she tried to come to terms with the awful prospect of being branded like a beast.
Then she realised Amul wasn’t alone. He had with him the awful little dwarf, Jinx, and two other stunted brutes. They were all dressed in nothing but loin cloths and all carried wicked, short whips. Amul strolled over to her to grab her tresses, pulling her roughly to her feet.
‘Aiiieeeeoowww!’ Devon sobbed as her weight came onto the roots of her hair. ‘P.P.Please!! No…’
Amul smashed his open hand across her face, knocking her head sideways, setting free a shower of lights and flashes , as she felt her teeth rattle. ‘Arggnnghhhh!’ His hand clamped her mouth. ‘I said shut you face. Christian slut!’ he turned to the Sheik. ‘Effendi, I shall see to it she learns.’
‘Thank you Amul. I leave her with you and her keepers.’ He beamed at the trio of evil dwarves. ‘Enjoy her well, and see she is well introduced to her life as a slave, in the harem of Sheik Malik.’
The filthy little brutes gibbered and nodded, grinning, showing their filth cracked uneven teeth. ‘Aye Effendi we shall indeed.’ Jinx said as he let his piggy, disgusting gaze rove over Devon’s form.
Then the Sheik smiled, and turned on his heels, and strode out of the room, leaving Devon to the mercies of the sadistic Amul and his aides.
Amul grabbed Devon’s locks, and pulled her up to her knees.
Sucking in her breath Devon grimaced as she bore the stinging in her scalp as Amul twisted her around so she could see the three brutish little men. Then he grinned at his companions. ‘My friends have come to give you a welcome into the home of Sheik Malik of Palos.’ He shook her. ‘You should be grateful Master bought you. There are a lot worse Masters than him. Many of them wanted your white hide.’ He let go of her hair, and then took a thick, heavy stick from his belt.
Devon trembled, as she immediately recognised it as a goad.
But Amul didn’t touch her with the end. Instead, he swung it in a low flat arc, and she howled out, as the cane smashed into her legs right behind her knees. ‘Arrrggggggggh!’ Unable to stop herself, she pitched forwards and dropped to her knees, the thick carpet barely absorbing the shock of the fall. Her head drooped to the floor and she cowered, defeated, sobbing into the carpet as the agony of the blow flared and surged through her legs, robbing her lower limbs of all feeling.
Her buttocks were presented to him and kicking her knees a little wider apart, Amul touched her tight puckered ass with the tip of the goad.
‘Aaieeeeeee!’ Devon yelped, arching back up to an upright kneel, almost without realising that was exactly what Amul wanted.
‘Better slut!’ he said. ‘You’re learning.’ Then he stooped and clipped a chain to the ring in her nose. He tugged on it, and tears sprang from her eyes as he touched the goad to her buttocks and gave her a small jolt. ‘Crawl bitch. Over to the corner.’
Obediently, like the animal they were turning her into, she shuffled along, her insides burning with hatred and disgust, as she heard the screwed up, ugly little dwarves laughing, as they followed.
Once in the corner, Devon saw the bowl that had been placed there, a crock dish, piled up with what looked like dog food.
Amul pushed her face close to the bowl. ‘Smell it bitch.’
Shuddering and shaking, her insides rolling with disgust, Devon sniffed at the dish. To her surprise it smelled quite appetising, but then, considering she had been given little but water since her abduction, she realised even dog food would smell like the finest cuisine.
He might have read her thoughts. ‘Don’t worry slut. There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s good food, just like you will always get here.’
She sobbed then and risked a look up at him. ‘Please… Am I to eat it?’
‘Of course slut,’ he snarled. ‘We don’t have hunger strikes here. Eat it, or have it forced into your belly.’ He shrugged. ‘Your choice, white slut.’
There was no choice, she had to eat it. Besides she was so hungry. ‘But Ma.Ma.Master… I need a spoon…’
‘Whaaaaack!’ The goad landed across her back and she pitched forwards again, her face slopping into the warm food. ‘Arrghhhhh! Mppphhhhh!’ Devon tried to lift her head, but the goad was shoved into her buttocks. There was no current this time, but she yelped as the impact as the end dug into her muscle. ‘Eat,’ he said. ‘Eat like the dog you are.’
Her inside churning, and shuddering with humiliation, she obeyed, tentatively touching the food with her tongue. It was some kind of thick stew, slightly spiced, and it tasted quite good. Smothering her shame, Devon knew she would have to obey and like a dog, she began to lap and suck up the food, chewing carefully and swallowing. The bowl started to move away from her and she was obliged to shuffle forwards, until the dish lodged in the corner. She obeyed this huge sadistic brute, and ate the food, shutting out the giggles and jeers of the men as she forced herself to eat. Slopping and grunting as she chased the food around the bowl, smearing her face and chin. But dammit she was so hungry, and before she realised it she was licking the bowl clean, struggling to get every last morsel into her belly.
Then Amul tugged sharply on her nose-chain, pulling her head up from the bowl. She cowered in fear as he said. ‘Trying to eat the bowl as well slut?’ he chuckled. ‘It’s all gone. No more for four hours.’ He snatched on the chain again, and she was forced to turn away from the bowl He pulled her head back and thrust the neck of a water bottle to her lips. ‘Suck on it slut and drink. Then we can clean you up.’ He chuckled. ‘Your face is covered in grease.’ He allowed her to drink the cool water, and then squeezed the bottle spraying her face. Rubbing the water in he cleaned the mess from around her mouth, and then tugging on the nose-chain again, he pulled her towards a door at the end of the room.
She could do nothing but obey and she crawled like a dog, urged on with the occasional tug on the chain. They went thorough the doorway, followed by the three twisted little brutes.
The room next door was a complete contrast to the room they had left. It was stonewalled, and cold. There were chains hanging from the vaulted ceiling and in the centre there was a circular board, about six feet in diameter. The board was made of thick oak, and it was raised a few inches off the floor. Devon began to shake as she saw the four sets of manacles bolted to the circumference.
Amul stepped to the board and placed his foot on it. He tugged the nose-chain again, and inclined his head. ‘Get your ass on the board.’
Devon swallowed her stomach fluttering nervously as she looked at the horrid, steel manacles. But she knew it was futile to resist and realising that she was about to be shackled and entirely at the mercy of these animals, she crawled hesitantly to the board. Her mind was awhirl with the words of the Sheik… ‘Ring her sex…. Brand her.’ The words echoed around her mind, and she was shaking uncontrollably. Oh God… Oh dear God, help her! Her insides churned and her souls shrivelled as she realised that it was all was very likely abut to become a reality and very soon.
Then the goad slammed across her ass. And she fell forwards, screaming, sprawling onto the wooden circle.
Before she realised what was happening, Amul had lifted her by he hair and slammed her to her knees against the wooden board.
Then she was heaving and retching in disgust as the evil little dwarves were all over her, clamping her wrists and ankles. Her head was pushed down and Amul pulled the nose chain taught, securing it to the edge of the board, where there was a group of small hooks at the edge.
She could struggle, and move her hips, but that was about all. She was immobile, defenceless. Her ass was high in the air, her ankles tight to the board and her head flat against the wood, with her face turned to one side. She had never felt so degraded, as she could feel the evil little brutes ogling her, making their obscene grunting jeering noises.
Then it began and she shuddered in horror, feeling one of the dwarves climbing onto the board. He shoved his filthy loins against her offered butt, and then in one fearful lunge, slammed his shaft deep into her ass. Her screams rent the air, as the little monster pummelled and ground deep into her body, ignoring her struggles, relishing in her wild movements as she tried futilely, to pull away from him.
Faster and deeper he sank into her body, opening her tight ass, filling her with his thick hot shaft, until she was halfconscious with the pain relentless chafing of her bonds against her tender skin.
He seemed to have the stamina of a wilds animal as he took her, ravaging her anal passage, shoving deep hard lunges, digging his filthy hands into her waist an hips as he pulled her closer each time he shafted her.
Devon was groaning and gasping as her saliva dribbled from her mouth, as she started to float away, trying to lose consciousness completely and end the suffering,
The she wailed out as her hair was yanked upwards by another of the little monsters, jerking tears from her eyes as the nose-chain tightened.
As she opened her mouth to scream again, she was engulfed by the rank stink of BO, as she saw Jinx leering at her. The obscene little creep grinned into her face, giving her the stink of his foul breath, as he unclipped the chain. Then as she opened her mouth to yell out, he pulled her closer, tugging her hair, and thrust his filthy, misshapen cock deep into her throat.
Now she was being pummelled between the two of them as Jinx rammed deep into her throat, so her teeth scraged along his vile shaft. Uncaring, he pulled her head close to his stinking body, and shafted her mouth, eagerly, as if he was taking her sex.
She could barely breathe and her breath was coming in wet snorts through her nose as her mouth was invaded, her gullet opened by the fearful weapon in her mouth. Then he began to quicken his thrusts and his cock pulsed, felling hotter. All at once he jetted his semen into her mouth, pulling from her quickly to close her mouth with a reeking hand, forcing her to swallow every last drop of the hot slimy stuff.
Then almost at the same time, suddenly the brutal monster who was raping her anus, suddenly slowed as his shaft thickened, it too beginning to pulse and throb. Devon cried out in shame and disgust as she felt the jet of his semen filling her body. The soreness, was unbearable as her ravaged anus gave way yet again and was filled with hot scalding semen, the sadistic dwarf ramming right home, as he bellowed out his lust, emptying himself deep in her rectum. Then both of the evil sadists stepped away from her, and she slumped in her bonds, sobbing, feeling the disgusting mess of semen and her own fluids trickling and oozing from her anus to coat the insides of her trembling thighs.
She wasn’t slumped for long for she heard the howl of a whip and screeched out as the leather crashed into her buttocks, the wicked end of the whip flicking around her thighs, and waist searing into her flesh.
She screeched and bucked as blow after blow tore at her soft flesh, and she began to think Amul would never stop. Then, finally a red mist rose up in her mind, and she knew she was slipping away. She was dying, of that she was certain….
A freezing douche of water splashed all over her sweating, whiplashed body, and she jerked up against her shackles. Then she squealed in agony as she realised her body was covered in burning, stinging welts. Her mind stuttered again as she noticed something else. She was still on the board, but was now on her back, spread out like a beached starfish, her manacled limbs pulled painfully taught. There was something hard and unyielding beneath her hips and she stiffened in horror as she remembered Adam North, and what he had done to her on that table. Oh dear God was it to happen all over again?
Through her pain she heard a voice. ‘Come on slut! Wake up.’ It was Amul again.
Sobbing, whimpering, Devon tried to look around, sucking in a gasp of pain as the movements aggravated the fresh welts on her body.
The dwarves had gone, and hardly believing her own emotions, Devon felt glad, despite the pain of her fresh bondage.
Then Amul reached for her and dragged her hair upwards, lifting her head. He had a cloth in his hand, and dipping it into a pail of water he cleaned her face. Then he swabbed the mess from between her thighs, ignoring her whimpers and sobs, as he worked over her body.
Moments later, to her shame and disgust, Amul had removed every trace of hair from her sex, and she could feel the hot flush of embarrassment as she realised that this would have to be repeated time and again.
Then Amul stopped her thoughts, turning her mind into a whirling mess of panic as he said. ‘The Sheik said you were to be ringed and branded. Remember, slut?’
She sucked in a breath of horror. ‘Oh God No! Please No! You can’t be….’
Silence slut.’ Amul slapped her breasts, sending waves of pain through her as the fresh welts on her body flared their agony again. ‘I do what His Excellency says,’ he showed Devon what he had in his hand and she shook her head from side to side, whimpering, sobbing as she recognised the star-wheeled leather punch.
He chuckled. ‘You know what’s coming, so hold your breath!’ He turned away and his hands went towards her mound.
Devon was in a world of sheer agony as she felt the punch shear through her labia. There times on each side the monster pierced her, oblivious to her screams and struggles, bearing his weight on her body, holding her hips flat as he did his gory work. Then She wailed out again as she smelled Dettol and felt the stinging of the antiseptic that he splashed onto the raw and bloody wounds in her tender mound.
He turned to her. ‘Shut the screaming slut or I will gag you.’
Moaning and shaking her head rolling her body trying to absorb the pain, Devon obeyed and went as quiet as she could. Tiny whimpers and sobs still escaped, but he ignored these, and bent back to his work on her mutilated sex.
She filled with loathing and shame as she felt the three rings clipped into the fresh wounds, and was acutely aware that, as he closed the rings, they pulled her sex lips tight shut.
He turned to her, and grinned. ‘There you are bitch. All closed and tight shut.’ He jerked on the top ring, causing her to yelp. ‘You know why you have been closed slut?’
Sobbing, she managed to blurt out. ‘Y.y.y.yes Ma.Ma.Master.’
‘Why?’
‘B-b-because only the Sheik can have me, Master?’
He laughed out aloud. ‘Not quite slut.’ He bent to her ear. ‘You have been closed, to stop you playing with yourself.’ He chuckled. ‘That piece of slave flesh between your thighs belongs to the Sheik and his guests.’ He chuckled again. ‘Although what you would like to have played with has been removed hasn’t it?’
Devon suppressed a sob at the memory of her circumcision. ‘Yes M-m-m-master.’
Then Amul straightened up, and moved away. That was when she noticed the small brazier near the wall about two yards from her feet. There was an iron sticking out of the hot coals, and she started to scream, loud protracted screams as she realised what Amul was going to do next.
He donned a thick, leather glove and took the iron from the coals. Then, stepping closer to her held up the red hot tip for her to see. It was a large crescent, a solid shape, clearly the mark of Islam.
She wailed… ‘Oh God… Nooo! Please. Nooo you can’t…!’
He shrugged and calmly pressed the iron to her belly, just above her swollen reddened mound.
Devon remembered screaming once, before she lost all touch with reality, as it seemed as if her soul was being wrenched from her. The blackness closed over her.
Chapter Nine
The circular room was cold.
The walls were covered with white glazed tiles.
Fixed to the wall near the metal door, there was a stainless steel sink, and next to that, a long wooden rack. The rack was festooned with coils of rope, more lengths of dog-chain, collars, whips, manacles, leather hoods and other cruel, bondage devices. The floor was carpeted with a deep pile, sheepskin material, except in the centre, where there was a round patch of brown floor tiles, about ten feet across. In the middle of this tiled circle there was a large, old-fashioned, leather birching-stool.
Shivering with the cool air on her flesh, Devon was kneeling close to the birching stool, sobbing to herself.
She felt muzzy; half-drugged.
Hardly aware of what she was doing here, or even who she was.
But the pain.
God, she was aware of pain, of the burning, aching discomfort of the welts on her body and the agonising patch of sheer agony on her belly. She shuddered, as she remembered the branding and she filled with shame and disgust. She was marked for life, like some animal. It was all some terrible, vivid nightmare surely?
But she recalled it all. The beatings she had endured in so short a length of time; the agony of the whip slashing into her buttocks and the humiliation in the cage, the jeering of the people still echoing in her mind.
No it had not been any nightmare; no dream of any sort.
It was reality. Her reality.
She shivered in revulsion as she remembered the branding and her passing out. Then she moaned to herself, as she recalled what had happened afterwards.
She had been awakened with yet another douching of freezing water, to find that Amul had been joined by the dwarves again
Under Amul’s arrogant gaze, they had played a fierce jet of water over her, pushing her helpless body all over the place. Then they had taken her for a bath. Or what they had called a bath. It had merely been another sadistic ordeal.
Amul, telling her she was to have her first lesson in submission, had then made her crawl to this room where the dwarves had shackled her to the glazed wall. Then they had hosed her down, this time with hot water. Then they had cleaned her body with soft soap, and Jeyes fluid, scrubbing her flesh with stiff bristled brushes, as they would an animal. After another hosing down, they had had dried her off with chamois leather, before covering her body with a liberal dusting of talcum powder. The only part of the proceedings which had been anything near normal was when they called in a dark haired Latino slavegirl, and ordered her to tend to Devon’s hair. Gently, but without a word, the girl had washed Devon’s hair and blow-dried it, before brushing it out into its normal, soft, silken state.
Then, Amul had fit the so-called beauty chains to her nipple rings, before winding a length of chromed dog-chain, twice about her neck, so tight, she almost choked. He had padlocked the chain in place and her hands had then been manacled behind her back, with her arms forced upwards, and secured by her wrists, to the rear of the neck chain.
She had screamed out to be released, but had merely earned herself another whipping. Then, Amul smeared Vaseline over the brand on her belly and carried her to the centre of the room. There he dropped her on her knees, and left her, in her chained nakedness, to wait, he said, for a guest.
So, she waited in obedient, frightened silence, her head lowered, her shapely arms aching, with the tight bondage and her lovely hair brushing the cold tiles beneath her knees.
Devon was still bewildered, her mind a whirl of fearful anticipation of the unknown, but slowly coming to terms with her situation.
Devon stifled another sob, as she admitted to herself how stupid she’d been to even think of swindling Teknix. She knew now, of course, that had been an idiotic mistake, due mostly to her arrogance, and her firm belief that she was cleverer than anyone else. Now, not even her father could help her. Her family would be sick with worry, but it would do no good. No one would ever find her, of that she was beginning to be sure. Now, here she was, in severe bondage, waiting for some pervert to do as he wished with her.
Her body trembled again.
They had no right to abuse her as they were doing.
But what could she do about it?
Whoever these people were, she realised that to them, she was just a slave, a piece of flesh to use as they felt fit. They would whip her as and when they wished. The slightest wrong move, would earn her a slashing, so maybe it was wise to submit; to obey these demented perverts; at least until she could get away.
Get away?
How would she do that?
And if she did.
How could she face normal life?
The whip marks would fade, but she would never get rid of that awful brand on her thigh. Her clit would never grow again, and the holes they had made in her flesh! They would heal, no doubt, but what man, on seeing the scars, would want her?
Her heart jumped then as she heard someone come into the room, but knowing her place; fearing the whip, Devon dared not look up. She waited until she could see the pair of bare feet in front of her.
Then a sudden gasp was wrenched from her as a hand twisted into her hair and yanked her head upwards, so she was looking into the half-masked features of a middle-aged woman. The woman’s body was naked, but for a leather waist-band, from which hung a quirt, brushing against her shapely thigh. In her right hand she had a riding crop. Her tanned, firm flesh had a healthy glow, under the light from the overhead spots and she smelled of expensive perfume. Devon grudgingly, had to admit; the woman had a fine figure and, from what little she could see of the woman’s face, for her age, was rather attractive. Strangely, there was something familiar about the woman, but Devon knew she couldn’t have known her.
Devon’s fear returned and she began to gabble. ‘P-p-please. Don’t hurt...’
The woman ignored her, shaking her shoulders. ‘Your name. What is it?’
For a moment, Devon was puzzled then she found her thoughts She was about to answer, then she yelped in pain, as the crop ripped into her tender thighs.
‘Your name, you stupid girl. Your slave-name!’
The sobbing Devon cowered from her, shaking with fear, trying to understand what was happening to her. Then, suddenly remembering what the Sheik had said about Slave-names. ‘I.I.I’m sorry M..M..Mistress. I haven’t g.g.g.got a slave-name.’
‘Your number then you stupid slut!’
Devon shook in fright and, still puzzled, she murmured. ‘T-t-en.’
The crop slashed into her naked back. ‘I asked you a question girl.’
Devon shook her head in bewilderment. ‘P-p-please! I don’t understand! What have I done?’
The crop slashed down again and seared Devon’s buttocks, extracting a howl of pain.
The woman rattled Devon’s head with a slap. ‘Stop snivelling. Tell me your number.’
‘N-n-umber T-ten!’
The woman released a heavy, impatient sigh, and then slashed the crop into Devon’s back again. ‘Number Ten what!’ She yelled.
The girl rolled away and cowered from her, crying. ‘Please! Don’t hit me any more. Please!’
‘Then tell me your number. Properly!’
Finally, Devon realised what the woman meant and sobbing said. ‘N-n-umber t-ten M..M..Mistress!’
‘That’s better!’ She pushed Devon aside. ‘You’re a new slave aren’t you Number Ten?’
Devon bowed her head again. ‘You know I am M-m-mistress!’ She trembled, wondering what was to come.
‘Don’t be cheeky girl! Just say yes or no Mistress.’ The woman nudged her with a toe. ‘Now,’ she continued, ‘you have some tricks to learn haven’t you!’
Devon had no idea what the woman meant, but she knew what she had to say. She bowed her head again.
The woman looked down, contemptuously. ‘You must be wondering what’s happening to you, girl?’
Miserably, Devon answered. ‘Yes M-m-mistress.’
‘Well, one thing’s for certain.’ The woman said. ‘You’re not at Teknix now.’ She chuckled, and slowly peeled off the half mask.
Devon looked up, frowning, her eyes puzzled, then her jaw dropped in amazement. God! It was… Devon couldn’t recall the woman’s name, but she was certain the woman was a Diplomatic Secretary from the American Embassy.
Suddenly, Devon was boiling with shame, and embarrassment, as she realised she was in this awful state, and in the presence of someone she knew, if only slightly.
Devon began to shake with the revulsion and shame. But it couldn’t be the same woman? Could it? ‘M-m-mistress! I know you! You’re from the Embassy?’’
The woman laughed. ‘At last the bitch recognises me!’ Still laughing, the woman bent to Devon and cradled her chin. ‘Yes it is me, little Devon. But here you must call me Mistress. You know that much, don’t you!’
Her mind was seething with uncertainty, at this strange turn of events, but then she started to gabble. ‘Oh please, please. Get me out of here. Please? My father will…’
‘Silence!’ The woman swished the crop through the air. ‘I never liked your father, and he doesn’t like me overmuch.’
‘Then you know…’
‘I know who you are slut, yes,’ she sneered. ‘Or rather were.’
Devon jumped and squealed as the crop caught her across the swell of her buttocks. Then she subsided as she realised the woman was indifferent to her, and her father’s position. But she could be. It was doubtful that word would ever reach the States, about anything that went on here. The woman was just another pervert, no doubt being accommodated by the Sheik. Devon nodded and mumbled. ‘Yes Mistress.’
The woman straightened up and shrugged. ‘Barbara and Adam arranged your abduction, didn’t they?’
Again Devon nodded. ‘Yes Mistress!’ she mumbled.
‘You once had a little thing going with Barbara didn’t you?’
Devon looked up quickly. ‘How…?’
‘They told me of course, you stupid slut!’ The woman lifted her shoulders in a shrug. ‘I knew about your fling with Barbara anyway.’ She smiled coldly. ‘In fact, I always envied Barbara for having you.’
Devon blushed even deeper, and shivered as suddenly the woman’s name came to her mind. The woman was called Miss Hayward.
The woman smiled a little. ‘Now, did Barbara ever punish you?’
‘N-n-no Mistress,’ Devon mumbled,
The woman tutted and shook her head. ‘Maybe she didn’t realise that all you wanted from her was a lift up the ladder.’
‘Devon sobbed.
‘I think I hit a nerve there,’ she grinned. ‘And Barbara should have been a bit more firm with you. Don’t you agree?’
Blushing slightly, knowing what she must say, Devon nodded. ‘Yes, Mistress.’ She hung her head.
The woman chuckled. ‘Your affair with Barbara wasn’t anything like this was it?’
‘No Mistress,’ Devon answered, quite truthfully.
‘So now, just look on me as your little rung up the ladder in the Sheik’s harem.’ She chuckled. ‘That is if I decide to tell him that you are a good girl.’
Devon stared at the floor. ‘Yes Mistress.’
‘So, imagine this is a finishing school.’ She smiled. ‘Of a sort!’ Then, she put her hands, gently, under Devon’s chin, lifting her head upwards to gaze into the tear-stained face, and her voice softened. ‘You must be so frightened, little one.’
Again Devon frowned, her mind in a whirl at this sudden change of heart. She had barely come to terms with being in this terrible place, and then she has this shock; finding this woman here; the realisation that she was clearly an evil sadist; one of the cruel people into whose clutches she had fallen. Now, after demonstrating how cruel she could be, the woman was being nice to her. Devon shook her head. ‘Please! I don’t understand. I want to go home. Please. Let me go. I don’t want to....’
The woman’s hand clamped over Devon’s mouth. ‘Shussh, now little one!’ she said. ‘I can’t let you go. That’s up to Adam North.’ She caressed Devon’s cheeks. ‘And I don’t think he will agree.’ She turned her attention to Devon’s flanks. ‘You’ll get used to all this, but you must learn to obey, or you’ll be whipped.’ She smiled. ‘Even by me.’ She caressed Devon’s cheek. ‘I don’t think you’ll be difficult though. You are showing promise as a very compliant little thing.’ She continued caressing Devon’s body. ‘That mustn’t change. You understand?’
Devon was becoming more bewildered by the second, even though she knew the woman was right. She had always preferred to do as she was told, rather than risk punishment. God, that was even more necessary now, when these lunatics didn’t even look for a reason to punish her. She tried to hide her bewilderment and the sudden, strange wish to submit completely. She murmured. ‘Yes Mistress.’
The woman smiled again. ‘Good!’ She stroked Devon’s soft hair. ‘That makes worthwhile all the risks I took in asking for you.’
Devon knew she could do no more than agree, try to please this woman, whom up until now, she had always trusted. She nodded slowly. ‘Yes Mistress!’
The woman swished the crop through the air. ‘Now enough of all this. It’s time for our fun!’
Devon bowed her head, her mind in turmoil. Oh God! Why! Why! Why!
The crop sliced through the air again, disturbing Devon’s thoughts. The woman stroked the leather across Devon’s back. ‘You may call me Mistress Hayward!’
Devon looked at the floor. ‘Yes, Mistress Hayward.’
The woman gave an approving nod, and stood closer to the birching-stool, where she stood, quietly looking at Devon. ‘What do you think of the Round Room, Number Ten?’ She slammed the crop down hard on the shiny leather of the birching stool for effect.
Flinching, Devon drew in a startled breath, her head jerking upwards in alarm, the sudden movement causing her fine breasts to push forwards, provocatively the movement pulling the chrome links deeper into her throat. She choked and her stifled sob of pain was cut off as she waited for the woman’s next command.
The woman cracked the whip again. ‘Well!’
‘Mistress?’ Again, Devon frowned.
‘I asked what you think of the Round Room.’
Devon shuddered and looked about her, seeing again, the whips, chains and other torture implements. ‘It fr...fr..frightens me Mistress.’
The woman chuckled, and nudged Devon with her toe. ‘Well that’s good,’ she said. ‘Because that’s what it’s meant to do.’ She leaned towards Devon. ‘And, as a new girl, you’ve every reason to be frightened. You don’t know what to expect do you?’
‘No Mistress!’
‘But you know you’re a slave, don’t you!’
Devon bowed her head, miserably. She didn’t want to play their game, but she knew what would happen if she didn’t. And she couldn’t take much more of the whip. ‘Yes Mistress!’ she mumbled.
The crop whistled through the air again. Thhwwwaaaaack!
This time slashing into Devon’s upper thigh, curling about her legs and cutting into her buttocks. ‘Aieeeeee! Arrghhhhh! Mistress….’ Screaming, Devon fell to the floor and tried to roll away. Hopeless. The stinging crop laid into her buttocks and thighs as she rolled and with no other means of defence. Devon rolled herself into a ball, screaming as the crop slashed across her buttocks, thighs and shoulders the sharp ends of the wires curling into her waist and belly. Without the use of her arms she was unable to rise properly and every time she tried to get up the crop would slash into her, forcing her back to the floor. Screaming and shrieking, she rolled about in a huddled ball as she tried to ride the blows tearing into her skin.
Then the rain of blows ceased and the woman went to her, helped her upright, and hugged the tortured body close. ‘Oh little one! You really must be a good girl. Then I shan’t have to crop you, shall I!’
Sobbing, Devon began to re-orientate herself, and she mumbled between sobs. ‘But what d-d-did I d-d-do wrong?’
The woman helped her to her feet. ‘You were mumbling again.’ She tut-tutted. ‘We can’t have your University education going to waste.’ She guided her towards the centre of the room. ‘Now, little one,’ she said. ‘Lie across the birching stool and show me those gorgeous buttocks.’
Shaking in terror, wincing at the agony of her bruised and burning skin, Devon struggled to her feet and approached the stool awkwardly, barely able to keep her balance. Wobbling a little, she lowered her body over the stool, snatching a breath as the cool leather made contact with her breasts and belly. Lying across the stool now she closed her eyes and held her breath, not daring to move, as she anticipated the agonising kiss of the crop.
The woman laughed then. ‘You’re shivering Number Ten Why are you shivering?’ Her voice had a taunting quality now.
Devon wondered just how much more degradation she could take, but, fearing the crop, she answered. ‘I’m frightened Mistress.’ She quavered. Still she waited for the sting of the crop. Nothing once more. Her trembling increased as she waited to suffer for the woman’s sadistic pleasure. Sadly, Devon realised that mental torture was as much a part of things here as physical punishment.
Then the woman’s hands were suddenly on Devon’s buttocks and, gently, the woman began to knead the firm flesh, her strong, fingers invading Devon’s vagina, her thumb pressing against the tight ring of the girl’s anus. ‘Ahhhiiieeeee! Please Mistress….’
‘Silence slut.’
Devon winced, fighting back the sobs, as this new humiliation, tormented her soul.
‘Stop snivelling Number Ten. I’m not hurting you now.’
Devon stifled her sobs, knowing that she would be cropped again, if she disobeyed.
The woman finished her perverted caressing and said. ‘Now, turn and face me.’
‘Yes Mistress!’ Devon stood up, still shivering with fright. She almost overbalanced, as she turned to face the woman, and instinctively, lowered her head before her tormentor.
‘Kneel before me!’
‘Yes Mistress!’ Submissively, Devon sank to her knees, on the brown tiles.
‘Wait there!’ The woman walked across to the side of the room to a stainless steel sink, and filled a metal bowl with water. She came back and set the dish in front of Devon. ‘Drink it.’
Devon’s mind recoiled. Not again?
She did want a drink.
God how she wanted a drink!
But, trussed as she was, to have the water, she would need to lap like a dog again. She couldn’t stand that humiliation again. The woman couldn’t be so cruel as to make her do it. She shook her head. ‘No Mistress! Please,’ she implored. ‘Please don’t make me lap it up.’ The crop whistled down across her back and Devon screamed, jumping back, trying to avoid the lash.
The woman said. ‘You must remember, little one. You obey.’
Fearful, Devon looked sideways at the crop and she knew she would have to submit. Swallowing her dignity, Devon moved forwards to bend towards the bowl. The crop slashed into her flesh again and she screamed, a long, protracted shriek straightening her body in agony as the crop aggravated the welts already scarring her soft white flesh. ‘You’re too close! Move back.’
Obediently, Devon shuffled backwards a foot or so and tried again.
‘Wait!’ The woman pulled Devon upright again, then, going over to one of the racks on the wall, she took down a long length of elasticised rope. She swished the elastic through the air. ‘Just imagine what it’s going to feel like when I crop you with this.’
Devon began to shiver, violently. More mental torture. Was there no end to it? God! She would go mad! She felt her bowels loosen and frantically, she held back the desire to defecate. That really would earn her a cropping. Holding her breath in fear Devon waited as her Mistress edged towards her!
Coming close to the defenceless Devon, The woman caressed the long, hair again. ‘Stand up.’
Trying to hide her reluctance, Devon staggered to her feet, teetering, as she stood upright. The woman began to move her hands all over Devon’s shapely thighs. ‘Don’t worry little one,’ she said. ‘I’m not going to crop you with them after all.’ Her hands fluttered about the swell of Devon’s delicious sex mound. ‘Because, they hurt you more like this!’ Then, as easily as if she’d been tying a parcel, the woman wrapped the strand around Devon’s waist, pulled it in, tight, taking the free ends down, between the trembling thighs. She pulled the strands hard into the cleft between Devon’s buttocks and stretched the elastic upwards, until it was at full stretch. Then, with some difficulty, the woman secured the elastic to the back of Devon’s neck-chains.
Devon was squirming in agony as the stretched elastic cut into her tender flesh threatening to open the wound where she had been circumcised. Devon’s cries filled the room. ‘Mistress, you’re hurting me! Please don’t hurt me Mistress!’
‘Come now Number Ten. Anyone would think I was cropping you!’
Devon tried, but couldn’t stifle her sobs, as she tried to stand the pain of the cutting strands. But the worst was to come. The woman pushed Devon’s head downwards. ‘Now, on your knees and drink! Lap it up, like the little bitch you are.’ She pressed Devon’s head lower. ‘And I want you to move back even more and stretch for it!’
Moaning her agony, Devon lowered her head, moving back another foot or so. Now she had to strain her head and neck forwards pushing her tongue towards the dish, she began to lap up the water. Fully stretched the vicious rubber strands cut deep into her flesh, burning her skin, chafing deep into her groin, rubbing at the sore, spot where her clit had once been and cut deep between her buttocks. Gasping with the pain, Devon continued to lap at the water, squirming, as she tried to ease the pain from the cutting strands. She stopped lapping at the water, and began to plead. ‘Mistress, it’s hurting me! Please let me stop.’
The woman bent down and began to run her hand along the graceful length of Devon’s extended neck and over her full taught breasts, groaning with pleasure, as the helpless Devon winced when the contact aggravated the hurt of her fresh piercings. The woman then spat onto her own hand and rubbed the saliva into Devon’s inflamed flesh, allowing her hand to wander along the front of the lovely young body.
Slim strong fingers forced their way between Devon’s thighs kneading the flesh, extracting further moans of agony as she caused the elastic to cut even deeper. With difficulty, the woman eased her fingers past the elastic, and entered the warm moistness of Devon’s vagina.
Devon was still moaning, her back and buttocks were burning with the pain of her cropping and the elastic strands were digging into her flesh. Also her neck chain was cutting deep into her throat, as she tried to ignore the woman’s perverted caress.
Then to Devon’s relief, the woman released the cutting elastic strands and her fingers began to slide faster in and out of Devon’s sex, her thumb pushing against the tight lips of the offered anus. Devon began to wriggle her hips, trying to ignore the massage, but knowing she had to surrender to it. If she didn’t she would be cropped again.
Despite her shame and humiliation, Devon knew she must allow her excitement to mount and, forgetting even the pain and discomfort of her chains, began to moan in ecstasy, forcing herself down onto the woman’s fingers as they pummelled her body.
The woman started to moan now and she slid down onto her back forcing her head from the rear between the girl’s shapely, buttocks. Then her tongue began to explore Devon’s sex and suddenly Devon realised she was no longer play-acting. God this was delicious! It was a woman’s caress yes, but it was a caress; far better than the beatings she had experienced so far since she had been brought here.
Devon arched her body backwards screaming, both, in passion and pain as alternately, the woman’s tongue slid in and out of her vagina and as her soft skin contacted Devon’s lashed and burning body.
The woman panted. ‘Turn round Number Ten. Dribble your saliva on my belly!’
‘Oh Yes Mistress!’ Devon gasped, burying her shame, letting her mouth tremble with false ecstasy, as she twisted herself around to face the woman’s feet. Then leaning over the woman’s body she allowed saliva to run out of her mouth onto the woman’s belly.
The woman began to rub Devon’s saliva into her tanned skin then reaching upwards she grabbed the girl’s hair to pull her body down on top of hers. ‘Kiss me!. Lick my sex! Kiss me there....Suck me until my juice runs over your face. Come on my little one! Come on! Let me feel that sexy little tongue inside me!’ She pushed her hips towards Devon’s face.
Again Devon turned about and obeyed, allowing her tongue to slide in and out of the woman’s dripping vagina. Devon began to moan, in shame and pleasure as she felt her own juices flowing in response to the woman’s tongue. Then she tasted the woman’s juices and greedy now, began to lap at the silken crotch. Soon, Devon’s neck and breasts were covered in the love-juice, as it flowed like water from the woman’s body. Together the pair rocked, thrusting against each other’s hips, as their passion mounted; overflowed, in a tide of their juices. Lapping and sucking at each other’s parts, they flailed about the floor, moaning and screaming their passion.
Devon knew she was beginning to think like these people. They were winning. Perhaps she was finished; maybe she should accept she was their slave. Behave as they wished her to. Become a sex-slave; perform whatever depraved and perverted acts they demanded of her. She had to admit, somehow there was a strange, perverted delight in her mind, as she savoured the raw, female smell of this delightfully formed woman. Devon experienced a sudden rush of sexual delight and she clasped the taught body to her and pumped her tongue hard into The woman’s moist sex-hole.
Then, suddenly, the enormity of what she was doing struck home and Devon pulled away, sharply, beginning to sob. ‘No! No more! I’m not like this. Please let me go! I can’t stand any more!’
The woman stood up then, her face contorted with fury. She picked up the crop again and she spat onto Devon’s breasts. ‘You disobedient little bitch!’ she hissed. ‘You dare to disobey me. ME! YOUR MISTRESS!’
Devon could only look up at her, knowing what was about to happen. ‘Please Mistress. I’m s.s.sorry. But I can’t .....’
‘Can’t? Can’t?’ The woman was fuming. ‘You can and you will do anything I tell you! If you don’t, this is what happens.’
The crop slashed down again and again and, screaming in agony and frustration, Devon was obliged to roll away from the demented attack. It was futile. Soon Devon’s body was a mess of criss-crossed bloodied welts. Screaming and shrieking, she huddled against the birching stool, as, for the second time, the woman laid a protracted beating into her flesh with the crop.
Screaming for mercy now, Devon rolled into a tight ball. ‘Oh! Please Mistress! I beg you! No more Mistress! Please stop Mistress! Please, PLEASE STOP!’
The woman stood over her. ‘You get no mercy from me,’ she snarled. ‘I paid for your body. I want enjoyment from you.’ She rolled Devon onto her back, and laid the crop into the offered stomach. ‘And, if you don’t perform as I want, then this is another way I can enjoy you!’ She slashed the girl’s body again.
‘Mistress! No more. Please! I beg of you!’ Devon gazed at the floor tears running freely. ‘I can’t stand any more!’
Then the woman stooped down and pulled Devon close to her again. With a gentle rocking movement, she cradled the helpless girl against her breasts. ‘Shhshh, now Number Ten. Cry if you wish, but don’t complain.’ She kissed the girl’s temple. ‘Or I have to crop you like that, and I don’t really want to do it.’
She looked into Devon’s confused eyes, and then kissed her forehead again. ‘Now I have to go and leave you here for the Sheik.’ She wiped the tears from Devon’s face. ‘And he will be very cruel, if you disobey.’ She kissed Devon again. ‘Do you understand Number Ten?’
Devon understood.
There was no option.
She was finished.
She would have to accept whatever these people did to her.
The woman stood up, then and pushed Devon to one side, just as the door suddenly opened, and the Sheik walked in.
‘Miss Hayward.’ He smiled widely. ‘Does the slave please you?’
The woman nudged Devon with a toe. ‘She’s not quite ready yet Excellency. There’s still some disobedience left in her. She tried to fool me, she was enjoying herself, but she knows she can’t get away with that.’ She bent to Devon again and kissed her cheek. ‘But she’ll learn, I think.’ She smoothed the golden hair again and turned to Sheik Malik. ‘Now, she’s yours Excellency, ALL yours!’ She bent and kissed Devon yet again. ‘I may not see you again little Devon, so be good and learn well.’ She straightened up, and walked out of the room leaving Devon, shivering in fear.
Devon knew now. This was how it would always be. Nothing would ever be any better. She belonged to the Sheik. She was his property. Like it or not, she would have to try to forget who she really was. She would have to remember that now she was nothing more than a slave. She would submit. It was easier that way. She blushed then as she recalled the passion and the half-admitted sense of enjoyment of her moments with Mistress Hayward. Who knows, she thought, she might even begin to enjoy her servitude. Either way, she knew.
There would never be any escape
She was a slave.
THE END
More to Mark Slade http://www.bdsmbooks.com/
Back to D Collection | back to main page
