### BZ-181 ###
Doomed Women
by Unknown


FOREWORD

Kharg, the Dungeon Master’s assistant torturer, led Rhonda into the small chamber of 
stone.

She was nude. Her hands were tightly and cruelly tied behind her back with a length of 
stout rope. Her lovely face was a mask of fear.

She screamed when she saw the device sitting on the stone floor.

It was a waist-high metal box. The top of it was formed into a pair of parallel edges which 
were toothed like the blade of a saw. Each of the teeth was razor sharp.

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

Rising from the center of the metal box was a dildo. It was no ordinary dildo—that would 
have been too mundane in this Fortress of Torture.

The dildo was long and thick and fat. It had a swollen, bullet-shaped head. It was covered 
with gleaming black leather.

Its shaft bristled with tiny metal spikes.

Rhonda screamed, “No! In the name of God, don’t put me on that thing! No, please!”

Kharg grinned from behind his leather torturer’s half-mask. He stifled the young girl’s 
screams by slapping a piece of adhesive tape on her mouth He lifted her leg so that the 
rounded dildo head penetrated her soft, pink pussy. Rhonda struggled helplessly.

Then Kharg lifted her, and lowered her on to the spiked shaft.


CHAPTER ONE

On the island of Santa Esmeralda, in the Caribbean sea, there is a house of doomed 
women.

This house is located in the well patrolled residential section where the island’s wealthy 
inhabitants dwell.

The house was constructed over a hundred years ago by slaves working under the whips 
of their cruel, colonial masters.

Its walls are of thick stone, and its doors are fashioned from stout, iron-ribbed oak. As 
thick as the walls are, however, sometimes the screams from inside become so loud that they 
can be heard outside.

Luckily for the owners of the house, it is located in a sufficiently deserted quarter of the 
residential section, that the wealthy do not have to be disturbed by these screams.

The island itself is a small one, and is off the beaten path taken by tourists. It is well known 
among the international set of deviants and perverts, however.

Inside the house there are women—women, and girls.

This is their last stop, the end of the line. Once they enter the solid walls of this place, there
is no escape.

They may leave in only two ways. The first way is for them to be bought by someone who 
can afford his or her own private slave.

The second way is death. The owners of the house try to keep the girls alive as long as 
possible, but sometimes unavoidable “accidents” occur.

Lydia Norden was in the house.

She was an American girl, barely out of her teens. She was tall and slender, with full, 
voluptuous breasts, a wasp waist, and long dancer’s legs.

Her hair was black and parted in the center. Her eyes were bright blue. She had a 
heart-shaped birthmark over her left hip.

She was a slave.

It was hard for her to remember the details of her past life. After being in the house for a 
few months, everything that had happened to her before it seemed like a fantastic illusion.

It was almost impossible for her to believe that at one time she had been a free young 
woman, living in the United States.

Then, she was bright and sensible and level-headed. She was young and beautiful, and the
whole world lay before her.

She could come and go as she pleased. If she didn’t care for a man, she merely crossed 
him off her list, and never saw that man again.

That was all gone now.

Now, she was a slave… a whore… a toy for the amusement of the men and women who 
came to this house to do the things that the normal, outside world would not permit them to 
do.

Every pleasure and pain could be found in the house—for a price. And the wealthy 
degenerates who frequented it had the money to indulge their every whim.

Although she couldn’t have possibly known it, this was to be her last night in the house.

The evening started like any other. Lydia woke in pain.

She had been roughly used the night before. It had been a most perverse scene that she 
had taken part in.

A Brazilian colonel, one of the leading members of the junta, brought his fourteen year old
mistress to the house.

The girl was young, with soft, budding breasts, that had barely ripened and matured. She 
had olive-colored skin, and dark eyes.

Despite her youth, she was already an accomplished sadist. She and the Colonel had tied 
Lydia naked to a whipping block.

The girl used the Colonel’s riding crop to thrash Lydia with. It was one of the most 
thorough and painful whippings Lydia had ever endured.

The girl was a pain lover. She giggled shyly, like a tender adolescent getting her first kiss. 
But that was only an illusion. / She giggled as she whipped Lydia’s bottom and back until they 
were raw and bleeding. The girl was savage, and had what seemed like a tireless arm.

The Colonel sat in a wicker chair, watching. His slender young mistress had a cruel, exotic, 
exquisite face.

The girl’s hair was thick and black, and hung to the small of her back. It brushed across her
shoulders every time she raised the crop to strike.

Lydia screamed whenever the pitiless crop slashed across her flesh. She was permitted to 
scream The Colonel and his mistress loved to hear her scream The girl soon became hot and 
sweaty She took off her exotically colored, brightly printed dress.

Her breasts were tiny buds, with hard, dark-brown nipples. Her body was lean, with slender
hips and a saucily curved rump.

Her little pussy was lightly covered with brown pubic hair. It was only the faintest, scantiest
dusting of hair.

Sweat beaded on her back and the tops of her breasts as she continued the whipping. Her 
long dark hair spilled over her breasts.

The Colonel became very excited. He took off his military tunic and opened his pants. His 
cock was thick and hard.

He took out his stiff member and played with it while his juvenile mistress continued to 
beat Lydia. Every time that Lydia screamed, he gave his hard cock a little squeeze.

When the girl finally tired of her sport, the riding crop was stained with Lydia’s blood.

The girl crossed the room and lay down on her back on the bed. She reached between her 
legs, and began playing with her youthful slit.

The Colonel stood up and stepped out of his pants. He was totally nude, except for the 
boned corset which held his enormous paunch in.

His belly was soft, but his cock wasn’t. It was hard and thick, with pale blue veins pulsing 
around the shaft.

He undid the leather straps that held Lydia fastened to the whipping block. As soon as she 
was free, Lydia slumped to the floor.

She lay curled up on her side. The Colonel roused her by kicking her in the bottom and the
pussy He ordered Lydia to go to the girl on the bed. Lydia was too weak to walk. She had to 
crawl on her hands and knees.

The movement of her wriggling bottom sent lightning-like flashes of pain searing through 
her.

She finally made it to the bed. The young girl spread her legs wide, so that her ankles 
touched the corners of the foot of the bed.

The girl pointed a commanding finger at her young pussy.

Lydia knew what was expected of her. Her months in the house had drained every 
inhibition out of her. She knew that she was a pleasure slut, and nothing more.

Lydia crawled up on the bed. Drops of blood fell from her whipped bottom, staining the 
white sheets.

She moved so that her face was poised inches away from the young girl’s pussy. It was a 
beautiful pussy, its soft folds of tender flesh as delicate as a flower.

The girl wound her hand around Lydia’s hair. She slapped her across the face. “Eat my 
pussy, puta. Eat it, you whore.”

Lydia dared to ask, “How can someone as lovely as you be so cruel?”

“It is easy,” the girl said. “It is my nature to be cruel. Now, stop your stupid talking, and put
your tongue to work on my pleasure!”

The girl pushed Lydia’s face down into her pussy. The girl’s slit was nearly hairless. It 
smelled like musk.

Lydia’s lips pressed against the girl’s cunt lips. Lydia extended her tongue and licked the 
outer folds of the girl’s cunt, then the inner lips.

She dipped her tongue into the girl’s pussy, and ran it along the inside of her slippery 
membranes. The girl grunted with pleasure.

Lydia moved her tongue up, searching out the girl’s tiny clitoris. It was a small button of 
flesh—and of pleasure.

Lydia ran her tongue-tip back and forth along the girl’s clit. She did it slowly… very, very 
slowly.

Behind her, the bedsprings groaned in protest as the corpulent Colonel mounted the bed.

He said, “Raise your backside up, whore.”

Keeping her face buried in the young girl’s pussy, Lydia folded her legs beneath her, and 
raised up her hindquarters.

She moaned as the Colonel squeezed and kneaded the abused flesh of her ass. The girl 
put her hand on the top of Lydia’s head, and pushed her down harder.

The Colonel’s dangling cock brushed against the backs of Lydia’s thighs. He took his 
swollen member in his hand.

He poked the soft lips of her sex with his cock head. He guided the head between her cunt
lips, and gasped with delight as his member encountered the slick wet heat that was the 
inside of Lydia’s pussy.

He gripped Lydia’s hips. She had to fight to keep from crying out at the pain of having her 
whipped ass so roughly handled.

The Colonel shoved into her. His member stretched out Lydia’s pussy as it forced its way 
into her.

The Colonel shoved his hips forward. His thick shaft was swallowed up and disappeared 
between Lydia’s cunt lips.

His head knocked against the mouth of her womb. He reached under her and pinched and
twisted her fat nipples.

Lydia continued to lick the pearly clitoris of the Colonel’s pubescent mistress. She didn’t 
intend to give the sadistic youngster a reason for beating her again.

The Colonel rocked back and forth. His cock slid in and out of Lydia. He pinched her 
nipples and breasts.

The young girl’s hips writhed under Lydia’s long tongue and soft lips. The Brazilian sank 
her fingernails into the corded muscles of Lydia’s shoulders.

The Colonel slammed into Lydia again and again. He took her brutally, and delighted in 
causing her pain with every stroke he shoved into her.

The Colonel came before the girl did. He reached over Lydia’s thigh and grabbed a handful
of her thick, dark pubic hair.

He yanked on it, pulling Lydia into him His hips slammed forward, sending his final thrust 
deep into her.

His stiff cock quivered. Suddenly a load of semen gushed out from the head of it, spewing 
all over the slippery membranes of her cunt.

The Colonel’s head tilted forward slowly, as though it were too heavy for his neck to 
support. Finally, his chin rested on his chest.

He gave a great, shuddering sigh. The last drops of his come were squeezed out of his 
cock.

His young mistress took longer to bring to orgasm. She was slow to become aroused by 
Lydia’s tonguing, but once she was turned on, she was nearly impossible to turn off.

The girl lay in a blanket of her own dark hair. Her hips rose from the mattress and moved 
in response to Lydia’s surging tongue.

The girl ground her pussy against Lydia’s mouth. She moved as though Lydia’s tongue was
a cock which was fucking her.

The girl wasn’t satisfied with her first orgasm. It shook her, and caused her to squeeze her 
eyes shut and murmur with pleasure.

But it wasn’t enough.

She kept Lydia’s face pinned down to her pussy. The girl wriggled her hips back and forth, 
signaling Lydia to continue doing what she had been doing.

Lydia saw why the Colonel needed to keep his little mistress amused with such diversions. 
The girl was insatiable!

Lydia brought the girl to orgasm at least a half-dozen times. By then, the Colonel had long
since pulled his cock out of Lydia, and gone to sit down and take a rest.

The young girl didn’t release Lydia until she had enjoyed the last, quivering throes of her 
sixth orgasm.

Then she cruelly and contemptuously thrust Lydia away from her. Lydia’s face was shining 
with the girl’s pussy juices.

The Colonel had had time for his flagging vigor and potency to be restored. Almost as 
soon as Lydia raised her head from the girl’s pussy, she had bumped into the Colonel’s hard 
cock.

He stood at the bedside, gripping his swollen member. Lydia licked her cracked and puffy 
lips, then opened her mouth wide.

The Colonel shoved his cock into her mouth.

He fucked her mouth like it was a pussy. Lydia concentrated on relaxing the muscles in the 
back of her throat.

The Colonel’s cock head rubbed against the soft roof of her mouth. She wrapped her 
tongue around his pulsing shaft.

The Colonel was very excited. He was so excited, that it didn’t take him very long to come 
in Lydia’s mouth.

Her jaw and throat muscles worked as she swallowed every last drop of his semen.

That pleased the Colonel. It pleased him so well that he whipped Lydia again, while his 
black-haired, dusky-skinned mistress got dressed.

After the whipping, the Colonel had one final little joke to play.

He lifted Lydia’s head, and made as though he was going to kiss her tenderly. Then, he 
drew back and spat full in her face.

He and his mistress thought that was hysterically funny. They were still laughing when they
exited the room.

That was last night. Lydia’s body still ached from the savage beating that she had received.
The pain seemed to reach right down into her bones.

She came fully awake as the door to her room rattled. She was locked in from the outside, 
of course.

She heard the tumblers turning. The door opened. Standing in the doorway was Santiago.

Santiago was one of the burly, brutal thugs who provided security at the house. He was a 
thin mart with a dark mustache and staring, pop eyes.

He was holding a tray with a bowl on it. The bowl was filled with steaming hot gruel. There
was a glass of water and some bread to go with it.

The owners of the house didn’t spend much money on keeping their slave girls well fed.

Particularly not Lydia. Although the beautiful American captive didn’t know it, special 
arrangements had been made regarding her.

Santiago had to have his little joke, of course. He took out his cock and stroked it until it 
was hard and red.

Then he jerked himself off so that he came in the bowl of gruel. He held the red tip of his 
cock over the steaming mush.

White strands of semen spewed out of it, lacing the mixture. He laughed when he saw the 
look of disgust on her face.

But Lydia was hungry She ate the gruel anyway, every last drop.

While she was eating, Santiago and another bully boy brought a wooden frame device 
into the room.

She ate quickly, knowing that she would soon be called on to perform once more. She 
gobbled the bread, and used the last fragments of it to mop up the remainder of the gruel.

Santiago made her go to the bathroom while he and his buddy watched in amusement.

The “toilet facilities” were incredibly primitive. All there was was a chamber pot under 
Lydia’s bed.

Santiago brought out the pot, and set it in the center of the room. He and his partner 
snickered and made coarse jokes.

Lydia hunkered down over the rusted pot. She grunted and her face burned red as she 
eliminated her waste products.

After she wiped herself, Santiago’s partner took the chamber pot and left the room to 
empty it.

Santiago said, “Time to get you ready, senorita.”

The device that he brought into the room was a wooden frame stock. It had a vertical 
section attached to one end, and a leather-covered seat facing it.

Santiago forced Lydia down on the seat, so that she was facing the vertical board.

The board was divided into two sections, with iron hinges holding them together. There 
was a pair of circular holes in the boards.

Each section of the board had a pair of semi-circular holes. When the twin boards were 
joined, the pairs of semi-circles matched up, creating the pair of circular holes.

The reasons for these holes soon became painfully obvious to Lydia.

Santiago sat her down on the seat. He made her sit so that her chest was pushing right up 
against the vertical board.

There was a pair of arm binders on either side of the board. Santiago tightly strapped 
Lydia’s arms into them He opened the top half of the vertical board. His hard, rough hands 
fumbled at the softness of her tender white breasts.

He pushed her breasts so that the undersides of them were firmly lodged against the 
bottom half of the semi-circles.

Lydia whimpered with fear as Santiago lowered the top half of the vertical board.

<<< IMAGE 01 >>>

She gasped as Santiago forced the board shut. Her breasts were tightly, painfully trapped 
in the circular spaces.

It was almost a surrealistic image, as her soft, twin mounds of flesh seemed to emerge out 
of the hardness of the wood planks.

The circular openings were smaller than her breasts, and constricted them cruelly. Her 
always-large breasts were made even plumper and more swollen by the sinister stocks.

Lydia writhed on the leather seat. She had been in the breast stock less than sixty seconds, 
and already the pain was excruciating!

She leaned forward in a desperate attempt to take some of the strain off her punished 
breasts.

She lifted her bottom clear of the leather chair as she moved forward. Santiago reached 
under her.

He took a fingerful of her pubic hair and ripped it out by the roots.

When Lydia stopped screaming, he said, “Don’t go away, senorita. Your next visitor is very 
anxious to see you.”





CHAPTER TWO


Santiago exited the room. Lydia was left alone with her thoughts—and with her pain.

The breast stock was a sadistically effective device. Her breasts were gripped so tightly that
she couldn’t possibly get them out.

Time went by. Each minute seemed like an agonizing eternity. And the more time that 
went by, the more excruciating became the pain in her breasts.

They were swollen globes under the constricting pressure. They were milk-white, and the 
skin seemed almost translucent.

Underneath the skin, there was a network of minute purple veins. These tiny veins shot 
through the rounded area of the girl’s breasts.

Because of the savage, unremitting pressure, Lydia’s nipples grew hard and swollen. They 
extended as far as they could go.

They were erect and throbbing and ultra-sensitive. It seemed as though the very changes 
in the air currents in the room caused them to hurt more.

Lydia took quick, shallow breaths. If she breathed deeply, it only increased the terrible pain
on her bosom.

Her bottom and thighs were sweaty. They adhered to the leather surface of the seat, and 
made wet, sticking sounds whenever she shifted position.

After a while, she was jarred out of her pain-filled haze by the sound of approaching 
footsteps.

They stopped when they reached her door.

A key rattled in the lock. The door opened, and someone entered the room.

Lydia couldn’t repress a groan of dismay when she saw who it was. It was the smiling devil 
who owned and operated this house—the man they called, “Cuda”.

That was short for barracuda, the small but vicious fish with a mouthful of razor-sharp 
teeth who lived in tropical waters.

Cuda was a predator, too, but unlike his aquatic namesake, he preyed on his own species.

He was a whoremaster and a white slaver. His agents were scattered all over the world, 
luring beautiful but naive young girls into their clutches.

This wasn’t Cuda’s only house, of course. He had many of them, owned and operated by 
his trusted lieutenants all over Central America.

But this was his headquarters, his base of operations. This was the center of his spider’s 
web.

He was a short, compact man, balding, with a long jaw. What hair he had was gray. His 
mouth was wide, and took up a large part of his face, thus giving him his name.

He was about fifty years old, six feet tall, weight somewhere around two hundred pounds. 
He wore white slacks, white shoes, a pink short-sleeved shirt, and a wide white tie.

He said, “Good evening, dear. How’s my favorite slut doing tonight?”

She gasped, “Are you—the visitor I was told to expect?”

“No.” He shook his head. “He’ll be with you shortly. I just thought that I would come in and
see how you’re doing.”

Cuda walked around to the front of her. Lydia’s breasts were marble-white, and numb 
from lack of circulation.

Cuda said, “My, you do seem to have gotten yourself into a bit of a fix, haven’t you?”

“Why—why don’t you let me out,” she said, “if you’re so concerned?”

“Oh, that is droll,” Cuda said appreciatively. “That’s what I like about you, child. No matter 
what we do to you here, you never lose your spirit. Of course, that could mean that we’re not 
doing enough.”

Cuda touched his forefinger to his thumb. He flicked Lydia’s nipple.

The pain was startling. It sliced through her like a red-hot knife. Her nipples had grown so 
sensitive as a result of this breast torture, that now even the slightest touch sent thrills of 
agony running through her.

Lydia fought back a scream.

Cuda chuckled. “That’s how I like to see you, darling. In pain. We haven’t had a session 
together for a while. We really must have one again soon.”

Even worse than the pain that she felt was the thought of having to endure another 
session of torture at Cuda’s hands.

He was diabolically clever. Lydia shivered uncontrollably as she remembered the last time 
that he had tortured her.

It had taken almost a week for her to recover her health so she could go back to whoring. 
And fucking and sucking and getting fucked in the ass were all merely pleasant diversions, 
compared to one of Cuda’s torture sessions.

He said, “At any rate, Lydia, you look simply lovely. I’m sure that your visitor will be most 
pleasantly surprised by the changes in you.”

Cuda turned to the door. Lydia was facing in the opposite direction, so she couldn’t see 
who else was standing behind her.

Cuda said, “Come in, mystery guest, and sign in, please.”

A man entered the room and stepped in front of Lydia. He was a fat, sweating man in a 
lightweight tropical suit.

Lydia recognized him. She was suddenly galvanized into action. She moved, forgetting the 
unyielding restraints which held her throbbing breasts.

Her sudden movement put a vicious strain on her bosom. Waves of agony rippled through
her, causing her to gasp breathlessly.

When she had recovered enough to speak, she cried, “Mr. Willoughby!”

The sweating fat man said coolly, “Hello, Lydia.”

If a Martian had walked into room, Lydia could not have been more surprised. She had 
known Oliver Willoughby since she was a little girl.

He was her aunt Glenda’s legal counsel. Glenda Macklin had been Lydia’s guardian since 
Lydia’s parents had died, almost ten years ago.

The sight of Willoughby filled Lydia’s brain with the memories of her past life—of the 
person she had been before a pair of kidnappers had swept her off a New York City street, 
forced her into a van, and so begun the days of her captivity.

Lydia started to cry.

It wasn’t the pain that made her weep She sobbed with relief. Just when she had least 
expected it, deliverance had come.

She could imagine what had happened ever since her mysterious disappearance. Her aunt,
Glenda, had probably moved heaven and earth to find her.

Glenda was a powerful, dominant woman. Once she set herself to a task, she always saw it 
through to the end.

Somehow, Glenda must have been able to trace Lydia to this god-forsaken hellhole in the 
middle of the Caribbean.

Now, Oliver Willoughby was here, undoubtedly to ransom her from this life of horror, 
degradation, and systematic torture.

“Oh, Mr. Willoughby,” she sobbed, “I thought that no one would ever find me!”

Cuda stood off to one side. His arms were folded over his chest, and there was a knowing 
smirk on his face.

Lydia cried, “I’m so happy to see you, Mr. Willoughby!”

Mr. Willoughby said, “And I’m very happy to see you, Lydia. You look well. A little worse for
wear, perhaps, but well.”

“Don’t worry—I’ll be fine just as soon as I get out of this place!”

Cuda threw back his head and laughed uproariously. Willoughby frowned. He said, “Get 
out of this place? I’m afraid that you misunderstand, child.”

Lydia felt sick to her stomach. She knew that something was wrong here, dreadfully wrong!

She said, “I—I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Willoughby! Haven’t you come here to 
ransom me and set me free?!”

Now it was Willoughby’s turn to join the laughter. The fat man exploded with mirth. His 
huge body heaved like it was being struck by a fleshquake.

His sweating face got redder. Beads of perspiration clung to the tip of his nose. He took 
out a soiled handkerchief, and mopped his face dry.

As soon as he took the handkerchief away, fresh beads of sweat popped out on his broad 
face.

When he was able to stop laughing, Willoughby said, “Set you free?! My dear young lady, 
nothing could be further from my mind!”

Lydia wept with panic. “Please, Mr. Willoughby, don’t play these games with my head! I 
can’t stand it! I’ll go mad!”

Willoughby reached out and grabbed a handful of her hair. He twisted it, causing her a 
great deal of pain.

He pushed his face close to her. As she stared into his hate-filled eyes, Lydia wondered 
how she had ever been so naive as to think that Mr. Willoughby was fond of her.

Obviously he hated her guts. But why? What had she ever done to him?

Lydia recovered herself.. “I don’t know what kind of cruel game you’re playing, but you’re 
going to be very sorry that you did so. When my aunt Glenda hears about this—”

This remark sent Willoughby shaking with fresh peals of laughter.

He roared, “You poor, pathetic dupe! Who do you think sold you to Cuda in the first place?
It was your aunt Glenda!”

“NO!” Lydia moaned. “I don’t believe it! Why would she do this to me?!”

“For the simplest, most basic reason of all, you little idiot—money! You stood in the way of
Glenda and a great deal of money. Now that you’ve vanished, it will all belong to Glenda!”

Lydia said, “No, you’re crazy! I don’t have any money—not a cent! Glenda’s already rich, 
but I haven’t got any money at all!”

“That’s what you think,” Willoughby said. “Or, let me say that you would have had a great 
deal of money, had you been in New York to claim it.”

“I swear that I don’t know what you’re talking about!” And it was true. As far as Lydia knew,
she was penniless.

She said, “You’re making a horrible mistake! Even if there is any money, I don’t want it! 
Glenda can take it all!”

“She already has,” the fat man said.

“Good! I don’t want a penny of it! All I want is to get out of here! Please, Mr. Willoughby, 
don’t leave me here! I can’t stand another day of it—not another hour!”

Cuda said, “You disappoint me, Lydia. Here I thought that you were having the time of 
your young life, enjoying my hospitality.”

“She’ll learn to enjoy it,” Willoughby said. “If she lives long enough.”

“Yes—if she lives long enough,” Willoughby said. “And if she doesn’t, well, I daresay that 
there’s always more girls out there for you.”

“Always.”

Willoughby took off his jacket and hung it up. His short-sleeved „shirt was marked with 
great wet sopping moons of sweat staining it.

He said, “And now, I wish you’d leave me and Lydia alone for a while. We have a lot of 
catching up to do.”

Cuda bowed politely. “Of course. If you should need something, just ring the buzzer near 
the bed. My man, Santiago, will attend to you.”

“I’d rather have this little cunt attend to me,” Willoughby snarled.

“Who can blame you?” Cuda said. “And now, I will take my leave of you. As the old saying 
goes, journeys end in lovers’ meetings.”

Cuda paused at the threshold of the door. “Have fun.”

“I will,” Willoughby said grimly. “She won’t.”

Cuda shrugged eloquently, then exited.

Lydia said, “If Glenda didn’t send you to ransom me, then what are you doing here? Did 
you just come to gloat?”

Willoughby slapped her face. “Shut up.”

Lydia shook her head to clear it. Her lips were smashed, and a trickle of warm blood 
dripped from the corner of her mouth.

Willoughby said, “Glenda wanted to see how you were taking to your new life.”

He walked around the girl, his eyes savoring the picture of her slender white body 
strapped into the bizarre bondage device.

He said, “From the looks of things, I’d say that your sojourn with Cuda seems to have done
you a world of good.”

Lydia shifted painfully. From the moment she had first seen Willoughby, she had 
experienced a spectrum of emotions.

Her hopes had been raised, only to be cruelly extinguished by the man she thought had 
come to rescue her.

Even more astounding, he had revealed to her that she was the victim of a cunningly 
calculated conspiracy.

Could it be possible that Lydia’s captivity was the result of the machinations of her aunt, 
Glenda?

It seemed absurd on the face of it—totally fantastic. Lydia had always assumed that Cuda’s
men had picked her off the street by random selection of pretty victims. And yet—here was 
Oliver Willoughby standing right in front of her, boasting how Glenda had arranged for her to 
be delivered to the sadistic whoremaster known as Cuda.

Of course, Willoughby could be lying—but why? No, Lydia knew that he told the truth.

She was filled with a wave of incredible hate toward her aunt. But not even her hate could 
insulate her from the pain that her breast torment was bringing her.

Willoughby said, “I’m sure that you’re overjoyed to see me, dear Lydia. How about giving 
me a great big kiss?”

The fat man pulled down his zipper. He fumbled his cock out of his fly hole. It was soft and
pink.

He touched the head of it to her swollen, aching breasts. Even the slightest touch sent 
them throbbing with unbelievable agony.

Willoughby savored her moans. His cock hardened as he rubbed her tortured breasts.

In a matter of seconds, his cock was thick and hard and throbbing.

He said, “Here’s where I want you to kiss me, bitch. Right here. Right on my cock. I hear 
that you’ve been having a lot of practice doing that sort of thing lately.”

Lydia said, “I’d rather kiss a piece of shit than touch your slimy flesh—not that there’s 
much difference between the two!”

Willoughby blushed, then remembered that he was the master now, and she the slave.

He said, “I’m glad to see that your captivity hasn’t broken your spirit, Lydia. But you re still 
much too defiant for my taste.”

He leered, “You must remember, we’re not back in New York. I don’t have to come around 
with my hat in my hand, trying to ingratiate myself to a spoiled little bitch like you.”

“No, things are different now. You’re just another slut that’s been bought and paid for. I 
can do anything I want to you—anything. I could kill you in this room, and it wouldn’t make a 
bit of difference to Cuda—as long as he gets his money.”

“Then why don’t you—kill me, I mean?”

“That would be too easy. I prefer the thought of you being slowly degraded like this, being
driven lower and lower down the ladder of whoredom. Before too long, you’ll be the lowest 
kind of whore, fucking sailors and derelicts at a quarter a lay.”

She said, “In that case, I’m getting off to a fine start with you, you pig.”

“Oh, you are a defiant one! Let’s see if I can’t teach you a long overdue lesson in manners.”

Willoughby went to his jacket, and groped in the pockets of it. He pulled out a leather 
strap with spiked studs bristling from it.

Willoughby came over to her. “Your tits must hurt like hell, bitch. And they’re such big, ripe
tits, too. I always wanted to kiss and suck them, but you never even gave me a second look. 
Well, here’s where I start to pay you back, you cunt!”

He whipped Lydia across her breasts with the strap, raking the spikes across the pulsing 
mounds of white flesh The effect was electrifying. Lydia jerked so hard that the support rails of
the bondage device lifted clear of the floor for an instant.

She screamed. Willoughby’s wet smile was an ugly thing.

“How was that?” he grunted. “Did it feel nice? Perhaps you’d like another one, eh?” 
Willoughby brought down the strap again. This time he aimed it so that the spikes ripped 
across her swollen nipples.

Lydia was in agony. Her scream was ripped out of the pit of her stomach. It rose to a high, 
wailing screech before dying away.

“Say,” Willoughby said, “this certainly gets results, doesn’t it? I’m so glad that I had the 
foresight to borrow it from Cuda. If two of those hurt you this much, then I wonder what two 
more will do—or ten more?”

“Please don’t, Mr. Willoughby!” Lydia begged. “I’ll do whatever you want, only please don’t
hurt me anymore!”

Willoughby looked pleased with himself. “Oh, so now it’s ‘Mr. Willoughby’, hmmm? How 
quickly you’ve changed your tune.”

“Please—I’ll suck you off. Please, please let me.

“Not so fast, my dear, not so fast.”

“I’m very good. They say that I give great head. Please let me suck your cock, Mr. 
Willoughby! Please don’t hurt me again!”

“I like to hurt you, dear—like this!”

He slashed the strap across her breasts again. Lydia screamed.

Willoughby grunted, “I don’t look like such a pig, do I?! That was the word you used, 
wasn’t it? Pig?”

He brought the strap down on her tender flesh again. Breathing heavily, he demanded, 
“Who’s the pig now, eh, slut?”

With savage fury, he brought the strap down on Lydia’s breasts ten more times.

Lydia fainted.

Unconsciousness lessened the pain. But it was not the end of the pain. In the back of her 
mind was the steady, unceasing ache of her tortured breasts.

Lydia’s eyes were closed. She saw pictures in the inside of her head, memory pictures.

The pictures got clearer. They showed a scene. Lydia remembered it well. It was one of the 
ugliest memories she had—until she had been kidnapped and forced into whoredom It was 
the time that her cousin, Rhonda, had raped her.

Rhonda was three years older than Lydia.

She was Glenda’s daughter. She was a real bitch, and she had always hated Lydia.

One time, when both girls were home for the summer during college recess, they were 
alone on the third floor of the mansion where Glenda made her home.

It was a hot summer night. Lydia was wearing a gauzy white gown. It was very revealing, 
and the outline of her body could be plainly seen through it.

If there had been any men in the mansion, Lydia would have covered herself. But since 
there weren’t, she was content to go around in her transparent wrapper.

It was late in the night when she got up to go to the bathroom. As she came back from it, 
she noticed that the light was on under her cousin’s room She would have kept on going, but 
she heard a muffled groan.

That interested her. She wondered if Rhonda was entertaining a boyfriend. The groan had 
sounded suspiciously like a sound of passion.

She paused at the door. It was slightly ajar. Lydia eased it open a fraction of an inch so she 
could peer inside.

Rhonda was alone in her room. But Lydia hadn’t been wrong. She had heard the sounds of
passion.

Rhonda was masturbating.

Rhonda was very beautiful. She had a mane of lovely, golden-blonde hair. She was tall and
long-legged and athletic.

Her breasts were high, rounded, and firm. The nipples were quite large. She had a thick 
bush of golden-brown pubic hair.

She lay on her back on her bed. The sheets were gathered at the foot of the bed. Her long 
legs were spread wide open.

Rhonda’s hand was between her legs. Her fingers were frantically flying over her pussy. 
They stroked and rubbed her swollen clitoris.

Rhonda was really going at it. Her head was tilted back, and her eyes were shut. Sweat 
poured down off her body Her nipples were like pink pebbles. With one hand she squeezed 
and pinched her nipples.

Lydia gasped.

Rhonda jumped up like she had been hit by a lightning bolt. She hopped out of bed and 
flung the door open before Lydia could react.

Rhonda glared at her, fury in her eyes. She wasn’t embarrassed, she was angry!

She said, “You contemptible little sneak! I should have known you’d do something like 
this!”

“No, Rhonda, please—”

Rhonda laughed cruelly “Did you get a good look, Lydia?! Well, come on in! I’ll give you a 
much better look, bitch!”

Rhonda gripped Lydia’s wrist. Lydia cried, “Ow, Rhonda, let go! You’re hurting me!”

Rhonda yanked Lydia into her room She ripped Lydia’s gauzy gown off her. Lydia gasped 
and tried to cover her nipples and her crotch.

Rhonda wrestled Lydia to the floor. Lydia was an athletic little lady, but Rhonda was taller 
than her, and weighed more.

Rhonda pinned Lydia’s shoulders to the carpet. She sat on the girl’s chest and straddled 
her so that Lydia’s head was gripped between her thighs.

Lydia struggled futilely. Rhonda’s pussy was poised right over her face. It was dripping with
juices, and was aromatic with the musky scent of arousal.

Lydia begged, “Please, Rhonda, let me up! I won’t tell, I promise!”

Rhonda sneered, “Sure, I’ll let you up—after you eat my pussy!”

Lydia didn’t want to do it. She begged and pleaded with Rhonda to let her go. But Rhonda
was cruel, and aroused.

She said, “Actually, I’m glad that you showed up, Lydia! I was getting tired of my hand 
anyway! Your mouth will be a lot better!”

Rhonda knew a lot of dirty tricks to make Lydia obey. She pulled her cousin’s hair 
unmercifully, until Lydia was crying hysterically.

<<< IMAGE 02 >>>

She sat on Lydia’s face, smothering her. Lydia kicked her heels against the floor, but she 
couldn’t get loose.

Rhonda lifted her ass off Lydia’s face. Lydia was red and gasping for air. Rhonda punched 
and pinched and prodded her.

“Will you do it now, Lydia? Will you? Will you?!”

“Yes!” Lydia sobbed. “Just don’t hurt me, that’s all I ask!”

Rhonda smiled in triumph. She eased her tufted pubis down on Lydia’s mouth. “Stick out 
your tongue, Lydia, and lick me good.”

Lydia shuddered with revulsion as her tongue tasted Rhonda’s flesh.

Rhonda commanded, “Don’t just lick the outside, Lydia, honey Lick it all along the inside, 
too! Yeah, that’s it!”

Lydia stuck her tongue into Rhonda’s pussy It didn’t taste bad like she thought it would. It 
had a kind of metallic taste.

Rhonda spread her cunt lips with her fingers and pushed the pink membranes of her pussy
into Lydia’s face.

She made Lydia lick her clitoris. Lydia lapped at the little button of flesh. Rhonda moaned 
and rocked her hips back and forth on Lydia’s face.

She rode Lydia until her cousin’s tonguing made her climax. Then she climbed off of 
Lydia’s face.

Rhonda was flushed and satisfied. She leaned with her back against the side of the bed.

Lydia jumped up and ran out of the room. Rhonda made a half-hearted attempt at 
catching the girl’s ankle, but Lydia was too quick for her.

Lydia fled down the hall with Rhonda’s mocking laughter pursuing her.

Mocking laughter… mocking laughter…

Lydia came out of her dream-memory. As she regained consciousness, she was 
momentarily confused.

She still heard the sound of mocking laughter, but it wasn’t Rhonda’s silvery laugh. It was 
deep and masculine and booming.

Lydia opened her eyes. Awareness returned to her with a rush, and with it, pain.

She opened her eyes. She looked down, and peered over the edge of the breast stock.

Her breasts were covered with dozens of red scratches which the metal spikes of the 
leather strap had cut into her flesh.

Each scratch had its own bright red droplets of blood. The loveliness of her breasts was 
marked with these ugly crimson gashes.

She moaned with pain and fear.

“Back to the land of the living, hmmm?” Willoughby said. “And just in time, too.”

He had taken his clothes off. He was a man-mountain of flesh. He had a double chin, and 
an immense, swelling round belly. He looked like a painting of Humpty-Dumpty come to life 
from the pages of a volume of Mother Goose.

But there was nothing childish about the cock that thrust out below that overstuffed belly. 
It was hard and thick, and looked like a broom handle—a handle of flesh.

He said, “I had planned to fuck you in your mouth, but I’ve got a better idea, much better. 
I’m going to fuck you between those fat tits of yours!”





CHAPTER THREE


Everyone has experienced the phenomenon of having a part of their anatomy “go to sleep”, 
that is, have it go numb from temporary lack of circulation. When a foot, for example, has 
gone to sleep, the sensation of putting weight on it, and standing on it, produces an intense 
reaction.

The return of the natural flow of circulation to the foot produces the sensation referred to 
as “pins and needles”. This sensation can be quite overwhelming.

This was what happened to Lydia. But it wasn’t her feet that had gone numb from lack of 
circulation—it was her breasts.

Willoughby squeezed her breasts in his sweaty hands. The sudden pressure gave Lydia the 
feeling that thousands of hot, tiny, electric pins and needles were stabbing her in the breasts.

She screamed. Willoughby only grinned, and squeezed them harder.

He pushed her breasts together. He stuck his cock between the twin mounds of flesh. 
Lydia’s breasts pressed against the member.

Willoughby began to rock back and forth. Every fold of fat on his immense body quivered. 
His cock head prodded against Lydia’s breastbone.

Willoughby moved his cock back and forth between her breasts. Each of his strokes sent a 
wave of agonizing pins and needles pulsing away in Lydia’s breasts.

She begged, pleaded, and shrieked, but Willoughby ignored her cries. He thrust his cock in
and out, in and out, in and out between her breasts.

The friction caused his member to redden. His crimson cock thrust between the soft 
mounds of white flesh, mounds which were cruelly marked from the strapping.

Willoughby rocked back and forth. His chest heaved as he panted for air. His face was so 
flushed with excitement that it was almost purple.

His jaw dropped, and his gaping mouth sucked in great quantities of air. Sweat covered his
body.

Just as he was about to come, he took his cock out from between her breasts. His fingers, 
each of them as fat as sausages, curled around his member.

He aimed his cock at Lydia’s face. Semen jetted out of it. Willoughby shuddered and 
groaned as he came.

Lydia groaned, too. She groaned with disgust as semen spurted all over her face.

She closed her mouth and held it tightly shut so that no semen would go into it. She shut 
her eyes.

Come dripped down her face. Willoughby’s cock gleamed with the stuff. He rubbed the 
swollen head of his member against Lydia’s lips and cheeks.

Willoughby said, “You don’t look so high and mighty now, cunt!” His voice had an 
unnaturally high quality, like a record being played at greater than its normal speed.

He said, “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do that, bitch!” He chuckled.

“I’ll be able to report to Glenda that your Central American vacation has done you a world 
of good.”

The door rattled as it was being opened. Lydia felt cool air currents playing across the 
sweat-covered flesh of her back.

Willoughby looked up, frowning with annoyance. “What do you want?”

Lydia heard the sound of booted footsteps moving behind her. Suddenly, a woman 
stepped into her line of sight.

Lydia had never seen her before, and whoever she was, she obviously wasn’t one of the 
whores in the house.

She was beautifully bizarre. She was about thirty years old, and five feet ten inches tall.

She wore a one-piece black leather jump suit with gleaming metal zippers, and a pair of 
low-heeled, black leather boots.

Her hair was so blonde as to be almost white. Her face was exquisitely formed, and could 
have graced the cover of a high-fashion magazine.

But the woman didn’t have the sticks-and-bones physique of a fashion model. Her build 
was Amazonian.

The black leather jump suit fit her like a second skin, and outlined every curve and fold of 
her superb body.

Her breasts were unusually full and voluptuous, and they strained against the material of 
the jump suit and threatened to burst the seams.

She held something concealed behind her back. Lydia couldn’t see what it was.

Willoughby scowled. He made no attempt to cover his nakedness. “Who are you? I didn’t 
ring for anyone!”

Ignoring him, the woman asked, “Are you Lydia Norden?”

Lydia said, “Yes.”

Willoughby got mad. “Wait a minute! What are you doing in here? I didn’t send for 
anyone! Who in the hell are you?”

The woman said simply, “I am your death.”

“My what?!” Willoughby’s face flushed with anger, and he started toward the woman.

She showed him the object she had been concealing behind her back.

It was a gun.

It was an automatic pistol. It had a silencer screwed on to the muzzle.

Willoughby staggered backward. “What in the name of God is this? Who are you?!” His last
words were practically a scream The woman said, “I’ve come from Charenton.”

Willoughby’s face turned as white as flour. He clutched his chest as though he was 
suffering from a heart attack.

“No!” he gasped. “No, it can’t be! There’s no such thing as Charenton! It doesn’t exist!”

“You gambled your life on that mistaken assumption,” the woman said coolly. She raised 
the pistol. “You lose.”

The silencer muffled the sound of the shot. It sounded like a light bulb shattering on a 
concrete floor.

A bright red hole appeared in the center of Willoughby’s forehead. He toppled backward, 
dead, and hit the floor like a harpooned whale.

The woman unfastened the leather straps pinioning Lydia’s arms to the sides of the vertical
board. She unfastened the lynch pin, and lifted the top half of the breast stock.

Lydia almost fainted from the pain. She fought to remain conscious. She gasped, “Who are
you?”

“A friend,” the woman said.

“But-”

“No time to talk now. We’ve got to get you out of here. Can you walk?”

“I’ll crawl if I have to,” Lydia said grimly.

“Let’s go, then,” the woman said.

She put her hands under Lydia’s arms, and lifted her to her feet. Lydia was unsteady, but 
she managed to keep her balance.

The woman put Lydia’s arm over her shoulder. She slipped her own arm around Lydia’s 
waist and half-carried, half-dragged her to the door.

They went into the hall. A man stood in it. When he heard the sound of the two women, 
he whirled around and leveled a gun on them.

He lowered it when he saw the woman. Like her, he was outfitted in a black leather jump 
suit, and boots.

He was gaunt and raw-boned, with sunken cheekbones and pale, heavy-lidded eyes. He 
had the face of a killer, and Lydia was very glad that he was on her side.

He said, “Is that the girl, Nora?”

The woman said, “Yes.”

“And the fat man?”

“Dead.”

“Then let’s get the hell out of here!”

The man and Nora bracketed Lydia so that she was between the two of them. They hustled
her through the corridor.

Lydia felt like screaming. Every move that she made sent waves of pain through her 
abused breasts.

She slumped forward. The man said, “What’s wrong?”

“I think I’m going to faint,” Lydia gasped.

The man said, “This is too slow I’ll carry her, Nora. You provide the firepower.” She said, “All
right, Jase.”

Jase handed Nora his pistol. Now she held a gun in either hand. Jase bent low and picked 
up Lydia and slung her across his shoulder.

They hurried through the corridor. They came to an iron-bound door which was always 
locked and guarded.

Santiago sat in the corner, not moving. If he wasn’t dead, he was doing a great imitation of
it. His head was twisted around 180 degrees.

Jase explained, “I took care of him before.”

Nora opened the door. They stepped out into an enclosed courtyard. It was night, and a 
quarter moon hung in the sky.

They ran across the stones of the courtyard. When they were halfway across it, somebody 
on a balcony spotted them.

The sentry gave the alarm He fired, and a slug gouged out chips of stone at Nora’s feet.

She whirled and fired a volley at the sentry. She laid down a murderous barrage of fire.

Jase ran to the wall. There was an iron-grilled gate there. It was always locked, but this 
night the padlock had been removed from the eyebolt.

Jase kicked open the gate and ran outside.. Nora followed close behind them.

A car was parked next to the wall. Its engine was running. Jase literally flung Lydia into the 
back seat.

He and Nora got into the car. A man with dark, curly hair and a long nose sat behind the 
wheel. As soon as everyone was safely in the car, he took off with a blast of screeching rubber.

The car snaked through the winding streets of Santa Esmerelda. Cars filled with Cuda’s 
men took up the chase.

The car. roared toward the waterfront. Lydia said, “I can’t thank you enough-” Nora said, 
“Then don’t try.”

“This is all so confusing! Who are you people?!”

“You’ve got come all over your face,” Nora said. “Wipe it off.”

She handed Lydia a rag. Lydia wiped her face clean.

The car zoomed down a dockside street. The driver drove right out onto a pier. The tires 
rumbled against the boards of the pier.

The car screeched to a halt at the very end of the pier. All four people inside it got out.

A seaplane with pontoons was moored near the dock. Jase picked up Lydia and carried her
down the gangway.

The quartet climbed into the plane just as Cuda’s men arrived at the dock. Jase cast off the
mooring lines. The seaplane’s engines started with a roar.

As Cuda’s gunmen blasted at them, the seaplane skimmed the surface of the water, then 
suddenly took flight and was airborne.

Jase and Nora sagged with relief. The four of them were in a passenger’s compartment aft 
of the pilot’s cabin.

The driver of the car wiped his forehead. “Jesus, that was a close one!”

Jase said, “Yeah. But the mission was accomplished, and that’s all that matters.”

He stared intently at Lydia. She was abruptly aware that she was naked, and they were not.

Jase’s eyes glittered with lust. “I can see why the Archons went to all that trouble to get 
this girl!”

Lydia self-consciously closed her legs. She wanted to cover her nipples, but didn’t. “The 
Archons? What is that?”

“Who is that, you should say,” Nora told her. “But all your questions will be answered in 
due time, my pretty.”

Lydia began, “I don’t know how to thank you-”

“I can think of one way you can show your gratitude to your rescuers,” Jase said. He went 
over to Lydia.

She was sitting, and he was standing. Her head was level with his crotch. She saw the 
outlines of a tremendous hard-on underneath his leather suit.

He said, “After I go on a mission, I’m all pumped up. I need something to drain off the 
tension.”

He pulled down the front zipper of his jump suit. It ran from his neck to his crotch. He was 
naked underneath it.

His cock thrust out. It was hard and thick and long. He was circumcised, and the head of 
his cock was shaped like the swollen cap of a mushroom.

He said, “I’m sure that you know what to do.”

Lydia noticed that the driver and Nora were watching her intently, as though they were 
waiting to see how she reacted.

Lydia said, “I know exactly what to do, and believe me, I’ve never been happier to do it!”

She reached for his cock. She saw the other three exchanging significant glances. She felt 
that she had passed some kind of test, but she wasn’t sure what kind.

Lydia licked her lips until they were moist and gleaming. She kissed the broad head of 
Jase’s cock, then opened her mouth and stuffed his member into it.

Lydia knelt on the floor of the plane. Jase’s cock filled her mouth, and pressed against the 
back of her throat.

He was very big. She relaxed the muscles in her throat, so she could take all of his cock 
inside her.

It was a trick that she had mastered while she was a prisoner in Cuda’s whorehouse. While 
she was there, she had to suck so many cocks that it hadn’t taken her very long to make the 
technique her own.

Jase seemed to be enjoying it. He pushed his hips back and forth, and rubbed his swollen 
member against the soft, yielding tissues of her throat.

Her long, dark hair brushed against his leather-covered thighs. She made liquid slurping 
sounds as she sucked him.

She heard the sound of a zipper opening. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Nora 
opening her jump suit so that her breasts and pussy were bared.

Nora crooked her finger and said, “Come here, little man. Crawl to your mistress.”

The man who had been driving the getaway car dropped to his knees. He crawled across 
the cabin floor to Nora.

She spread her legs. The man raised his head so that the muscles of his neck were corded 
and tensed.

Nora took hold of his ears, and pulled his face into her pussy. Jase twisted Lydia’s hair 
around his hand. He rocked back and forth, fucking her in the mouth.

He stiffened inside her. Semen gushed out of the head of his cock. It splashed down 
Lydia’s throat. She swallowed every drop of it.

Jase was still hard when he took his cock out of her mouth. He made Lydia bend over the 
arm of a chair.

Lydia lay face down, with her belly hanging over the chair arm, and her feet on the floor.

Her breasts still ached with pain. She put her arms on the seat of the chair and raised her 
upper body to take the strain off her breasts.

Her bottom was facing Jase. He put his hands on her smooth inner thighs and parted 
them.

He spit in his hands, and rubbed it on the head of his cock. He stood behind Lydia, and 
pushed his member against the delicate lips of her pussy.

He entered her quickly and roughly. She grunted as his cock buried itself inside her. Jase 
moved back and forth, shoving his cock in and out.

Lydia looked up. The driver was eagerly tonguing Nora’s clitoris. She lay back with a look 
of pleasure on her face.

From time to time, Nora would grab a handful of the driver’s hair, and viciously yank his 
head up, out of her pussy.

Then she would slap his face half-a-dozen times. He would murmur, “Thank you, Mistress.”
Nora would push his face back down, and he would resume his tonguing of her.

Lydia’s buttocks quivered as Jase’s hips slammed into them His balls slapped against the 
lips of her cunt.

Jase moaned, and came inside her pussy. His come felt cool and soothing against the 
tissues of Lydia’s pink pussy.

After he pulled out of her, he made her lick his cock and balls clean. Lydia turned off her 
questioning mind, and obeyed him.

Jase went back to his seat, and sat down. Lydia climbed into a chair. The driver continued 
to eat Nora’s pussy.

The plane flew for about an hour. Then, its wings dipped, and it made a low, banking turn 
over an island.

Lydia peered out the window The night sky was crystal clear, and the moon furnished 
plenty of soft light.

The island rose out of the sea. It was small, and most of its surface area was covered by a 
grim castle.

Lydia said, “What place is this?”

Nora said, “That’s the Fortress.”

She would answer no more questions. During her captivity in Cuda’s whorehouse, Lydia 
had learned the value of remaining silent.

She kept her mouth closed, although she was filled with dozens of questions.

The plane touched down on the water. It taxied over to a mooring slip. The quartet in the 
cabin, plus the pilot, climbed down from the plane and into a motor launch.

<<< IMAGE 03 >>>

The skipper of the boat showed no surprise at seeing the nude Lydia climb into his boat. 
He steered for shore.

The five people got out of the boat, and stepped on to dry land. They climbed a winding 
dirt path to the castle.

The Fortress was a mammoth structure which had endured for three hundred years, and 
might well endure for three hundred more.

An iron gate swung up, and the group entered the castle courtyard. They crossed it, and 
entered the main building, a towering stone structure.

They went through the winding corridors of the building. The stones were cool against 
Lydia’s bare feet.

Lydia asked Nora, “What kind of place is this?”

Nora said nothing.

They turned a corner, and started down a long hall. On the left was an open door. As they 
drew abreast of it, there was a scream from inside it.

Lydia’s blood ran cold. She peered into the room, and gasped with shock and terror at 
what she saw within. The small room was lit by the flickering glare of a torch, but there was 
enough light for Lydia to see the terrible thing that was taking place.

In the center of the room was a seven-foot pole. The pole bristled with scores of 
triangular-shaped, razor-sharp metal teeth.

Extending from the pole at waist-height was a horizontal pole. Like the larger pole, this 
also was covered with the sinister metal teeth.

A girl was tied to the pole.

She was naked. She was about eighteen or nineteen years old, with long hair that touched 
her shoulders.

She had long legs, a flat belly, and upturned, pear-shaped breasts. Her face would have 
been beautiful, if it hadn’t been distorted by fear and agony.

She was positioned so that her front was pressed against the vertical pole. Rope bound 
her hands to the pole. She straddled the horizontal pole. She was poised on the tips of her 
toes, but her smooth inner thighs were gashed with many slashes from the vicious razor teeth.

A young man stood behind her. He was naked, too. His body was trim and athletic and 
hairless. He had short hair and a smug expression on his face.

He was fucking the girl in the ass.

Every muscle in her body quivered from the strain of staying on tiptoes. Whenever the 
strain became too much, and she had to go down on the soles of her feet, the razor teeth 
ripped her thighs and the tender membranes of her pussy.

The man fucked her brutally, ravaging her tender anus. He slammed his cock into her with 
savage fury.

Every time that he thrust into her, he pushed her front against the vertical pole. The razor 
teeth slashed her breasts and her belly and hips.

The girl screamed again.

Lydia turned pale as a sheet. She raised her hand to her open mouth and gasped, “Oh, 
dear God!”

Nora grinned. “Now you know what kind of place this is.”





CHAPTER FOUR


One day later, Lydia stood in the council chamber of the Archons.

She was naked. An iron collar was fastened to her neck. Attached to this collar via eyebolts
was a pair of chains.

Iron manacles were fastened to her slender wrists. Each of the chains attached to her neck 
collar was fastened to one of the manacles.

The chains were so short that Lydia couldn’t lower her hands to her sides. She had to keep 
her hands at waist height at all times.

Iron cuffs were attached to her ankles. Holding the cuffs together was an eighteen-inch 
length of chain.

This chain hobbled her, and hindered her movement. She could walk only in small, 
delicate, mincing steps.

Whenever she moved, the links of the chains rattled in response.

The council room was located on the top floor of the main building. It was situated in the 
center of the building, so there were no windows.

The room was lit by red lights. They gave a hellish glare to the surroundings.

The Archons sat at a raised table at one end of the room It was as high as a judge’s bench,
so the Archons could look down at her.

The Archons were the rulers of this Fortress. That much, at least, Lydia had been able to 
learn.

There were three of them—two men, and a woman. They wore hooded cowls similar to 
monk’s habits, and their faces were veiled in shadow.

Lydia was bewildered by the sudden and dramatic turn of events which had freed her from
Cuda, only to put her once more in captivity.

She wondered if she had gone from the frying pan into the fire.

Events had proceeded at a whirlwind pace. As she stood in silence on the council room 
floor, her thoughts drifted back to the previous evening.

After she had gotten an eyeful of the sadistic scene taking place in the side chamber, Nora
and Jase had hustled her through the castle.

Lydia was bewildered by the many twisting turns of the castle corridor, and was soon 
totally disoriented.

Her captors took her to an examination room. They pushed her inside. In contrast to the 
moldering walls of the castle, the room was spotless and clinically bright.

Lydia blinked her eyes and looked around. She saw a doctor’s examining table, a stainless 
steel sink, a scale, and cabinets filled with vials of drugs.

One sinister detail immediately caught her eye. She saw that the table was equipped with 
canvas restraining straps.

A nurse was on duty. She was a tall redhead with a thin, bony face, pale skin, and green 
eyes. She was slender with sharp, pointed breasts.

Her name was Doris. She wore the regulation white nurse’s uniform, white stockings, white
shoes, and a starched nurse’s cap.

She picked up the phone and summoned the doctor to the examining room. Then she 
turned to confront Lydia.

Doris stared at her. Lydia blushed under her intense scrutiny. Doris hungrily licked her lips.

Nora said, “We’ll leave Lydia with you, Doris. We have to go to Mission Control for a 
debriefing.”

“You go right on ahead,” Doris said. She spoke with a sharp, nasal, Mid-Western twang in 
her voice. “This little girl will be in good hands.”

“I can imagine,” Nora laughed. “I’ll see you later, Lydia.”

Nora and Jase left the room Lydia heard the sound of the door locking.

Doris told Lydia to sit down on the examining table. Lydia rested her bottom on the stiff 
white paper which covered the leather-upholstered table.

Doris gave her a preliminary examination. She peered into Lydia’s ears and nostrils. She 
made Lydia open her mouth, stuck a depressor stick on the girl’s tongue, and peered inside.

She placed a stethoscope against Lydia’s chest, and monitored her heart rate. As she 
examined the girl, Doris jotted down notes on a medical form attached to a clipboard.

Lydia winced as Doris examined her breasts. Doris grinned and said, “That hurt?”

“Yes, very much so,” Lydia said.

“I should imagine. They’ve used you roughly.”

Lydia ventured a question. “What—what is this place?”

“Why… it’s the Fortress, of course.”

“But what is it?”

“Heaven for some—and Hell for others.” Doris grinned with evil pleasure.

The door was unlocked and opened, and the doctor entered the room.

His name was Doctor Gladstone. He was about fifty years old, with a shock of gray hair 
which fanned out from his balding head.

He said gruffly, “So this is the girl, eh?”

“Yes, Doctor Gladstone,” Doris said.

“Have you examined her vaginally… and anally?”

“No, Doctor. I saved that for you.”

“Let’s get to it, then.”

The doctor told Lydia to lie down oh her back on the table, and put her feet in the metal 
stirrups. Lydia did so, her stomach churning with tension.

The doctor put on a pair of rubber gloves. Holding a pencil-flashlight, he parted Lydia’s 
cunt lips, and peered inside.

Lydia grunted under his none-too-gentle handling. The doctor used a metal instrument to 
open her pussy and facilitate his examination.

Peering into her cunt, he stroked his beard and said, “Hmmm,” Doris said, “Anything 
serious, Doctor?”

“No. The membranes are raw and irritated from overuse, but of course that’s to be 
expected in this case.”

“Any signs of disease?”

“None, but we’ll take the proper precautionary measures just in case.” The doctor removed
the clamp from inside Lydia, and replaced it inside the sterile autoclave. He told Lydia to turn 
over on her belly.

He smeared some lubricating jelly on his rubber-gloved fingers, and parted her buttocks. 
He thrust his fingers into her anus.

Lydia groaned as he stretched out her anus, and examined the inside of it. He said, “Like 
her vagina, her rectum has been roughly used, but there’s no sign of permanent damage.”

He had Lydia turn over, and he once more on her back. “Nurse, we’ll have to disinfect 
those cuts on her breasts. Fasten the restraining straps, please.”

“Yes, Doctor,” Doris said.

Doris pulled one of the canvas straps across Lydia’s belly. Lydia said, “What are you going 
to do?”

Doris said, “You run the risk of a nasty infection on those gashes in your breasts, dear. The 
disinfectant is quite strong, and will hurt a bit, so we’re fastening you down for your own 
good.”

Doris clipped down the strap across Lydia’s belly. She fastened another one across the 
girl’s legs.

While Doctor Gladstone peeled off his rubber gloves and discarded them, Doris poured 
some antiseptic solution on a cotton square.

Lydia screamed in pain as Doris rubbed the solution over her breasts. It seeped into the 
gashes, and burnt them like acid!

Lydia twisted and writhed, but the straps held her tight. She wept and moaned, but Doris 
ignored her tearful pleas, and cleansed her breasts, washing the blood off.

When Doris was finally finished, Lydia sagged back in relief. But her relief was short-lived, 
for she saw the doctor approaching her with a hypodermic needle in his hand.

Lydia screamed, “What are you going to do to me?!”

Doris said, “Oh, be quiet. All we’re giving you is a shot of penicillin. Stop acting like a 
baby.” Gladstone injected her with the penicillin. He discarded the syringe once it was empty.

He said, “It seems to me, Nurse, that we’ll have to clean this girl out thoroughly. I suggest 
the administration of an enema.”

“I concur with your judgment. Doctor,” Doris said. “Shall I do the honors’?”

“If you please.”

Doris filled a red rubber enema bag with a hot, soapy solution. “This is hot work, Doctor. 
I’m going to remove some of these superfluous clothes.”

“A capital idea, Nurse.”

Doris unbuttoned her uniform and took it off. She wore a white latex garter belt, rubber 
panties, and stockings. She wore no bra, and her breasts were bare.

Lydia lay on her stomach, her arms dangling off the ends of the table. Doris hung the 
enema bag from a hook on a portable metal tree.

She wheeled the tree over to the table. She parted Lydia’s buttocks, and smeared 
lubricating jelly in the crack between them. She lavished plenty of the jelly on Lydia’s anus.

The enema nozzle was fat and thick and six inches long. Doris smeared plenty of lubricant 
all over it.

Holding Lydia’s buttocks apart, Doris poked the tip of the nozzle against the girl’s brown 
puckered anus.

The nozzle spread open the ring of Lydia’s anus. The nozzle disappeared inside Lydia’s 
bottom.

Lydia groaned and grunted. The nozzle filled her like a cock, and Doris had inserted it 
roughly.

Doris released the catheter, and the soapy fluid poured inside Lydia. The fluid made 
gurgling sounds as it went down the tube and into her.

Soon, Lydia’s stomach was swollen and distended with the fluid sloshing around inside it. 
She didn’t think that she could take another drop, and painful cramps began to give her pain 
When the bag was empty of the last drops, Doris removed the nozzle from inside Lydia. Before
Lydia could react, Doris shoved a butt plug into Lydia’s anus.

Lydia groaned, “What are you doing?”

Doris said, “The enema will be more effective if you hold the contents for a while. This plug
will make sure that you don’t void your bowels too soon!”

“But this enema really hurts! It’s very painful! The cramps are killing me! Please, won’t you 
let me go to the bathroom?!”

“I’ve got something else in mind for you, honey,” Doris said.

She stood in front of Lydia and pulled down her rubber panties. Her pussy was covered 
with a tuft of brick-red pubic hair.

Doris ran her fingers through her cunt lips. “I’ll take the butt plug out—after you’ve made 
me come with your mouth!”

Lydia’s head hung off the edge of the table. Doris pushed her pussy against the girl’s face.

Lydia quickly realized that, as usual, the only thing for her to do was to obey. Groaning 
from the cramps, she pressed her lips against Doris’s cunt lips.

Lydia stuck her tongue inside the nurse’s pussy and licked it. Her clitoris was a hard fleshy 
button against Lydia’s tongue.

Doris stretched and glowed with pleasure as Lydia’s cunt-licking began to get to her. She 
reached up and pinched her own nipples.

Doctor Gladstone came over. He opened the fly of his white pants, and took out his cock. 
He held a jar of lubricating jelly.

While Lydia tongued the nurse’s red-haired cunt, the doctor parted Doris’s buttocks and 
smeared the cleft with lubricant.

He opened his pants, and let them drop to his ankles. He smeared the jelly all over his stiff 
shaft.

Holding the nurse’s .buttocks apart, he stuffed the head of his cock into her anus. Doris 
moaned and put her hands on the table to steady herself.

Doris said, “Don’t stop licking my cunt! Don’t stop!”

Lydia’s tongue worked frantically on the nurse’s clitoris. Doris gasped as the doctor 
gripped her hips tightly and jammed his cock deep into her behind.

Doris shrieked with the intensity of the double-teaming that she was receiving. Her cunt 
was being eaten while her ass was being fucked’.

Gladstone’s lips parted, and a deep groan of satisfaction rippled out from him as he came 
inside the nurse’s rectum.

Lydia’s tongue lashed an orgasm into the nurse’s body. Doris made high, squealing sounds
when she came.

The doctor rested his sweating head on the nurse’s back. Doris gasped and panted for 
breath. Her eyes were squeezed shut.’ Lydia begged, “Please, won’t you let me go to the 
bathroom now?!”

The doctor parted Doris’s buttocks, and gently eased his cock out of her anus. Doris 
shivered as the fat head of it popped free of her tight-gripping anus.

A few minutes later, Doris removed the butt plug from Lydia’s bottom, and released the 
girl from the table.

Lydia hurried into the bathroom, flung up the toilet seat lid, and sat down on the seat.

While she was cleaning up after herself, she heard the sound of excited voices in the 
examination room.

Lydia got up off the seat and flushed the toilet. Doris entered the bathroom. She was 
holding a pair of handcuffs.

Doris said, “Put your hands behind your back, honey.”

Lydia did so. She felt the cold steel of the gleaming cuffs against her wrists. They clicked 
into place.

Doris led Lydia into the examining room. The doctor was not alone. Two other persons 
were inside the room.

One of them was a powerfully built man in the archaic costume of a medieval torturer. He 
wore a pair of tight fitting black trousers that revealed the bulge at his crotch.

He was bare from the waist up. He had a flat belly, broad shoulders, and a muscular chest 
and pair of arms.

Most bizarre of all was the leather half-mask pulled down over his head. The mask covered
his scalp and came down to the bridge of his nose. The bottom half of his face was uncovered.

Eyeholes had been cut in the mask, and the man’s eyes were cold and cruel beneath them.

He stood behind a frantically struggling girl.

The girl was one or two years older than Lydia. It was hard to correctly estimate her age, 
because the bizarre restraining device clamped to her head partially covered her face.

The girl had short blonde hair. She was solidly built, with broad shoulders, massive breasts,
a solid waist, and thick, strong legs.

She was naked, of course.

Her pubic bush was a darker shade than her blonde hair. The girl’s hands were bound 
behind her, and leg irons were attached to her ankles.

The bondage device attached to her head was a kind of metal basket, made of ribs welded
together. It fit over her head like a hood.

A broad metal band was pressed against her mouth, clamping it shut. Her frantic cries 
were reduced to muffled moans.

The metal bands were adjustable, and had clamps at the ends which could be either 
tightened or loosened, depending on what was desired.

Holding Lydia by the shoulders, Doris led her to a chair at the far side of the room, and 
pushed her down into it.

Doris picked up a length of rope, and slipped a noose around Lydia’s shoulders. She pulled
it tight, tying Lydia to the back of the chair.

The ropes were very tight indeed. They cu into the soft flesh of Lydia’s breasts, and rubbed
against her sore, irritated skin.

Lydia said, “What-what are you going to do?”

“To you?” Doris said. “Nothing… at least, not right now. But to naughty little Lucy over 
there—we’re going to give her a great deal of pain.”

Lucy struggled anew in the man’s arms, but he was strong, and had no trouble holding 
her.

The man stared at Lydia. She could see the lust and cruelty in his face no matter how much
of it the «ask hid.

He said, “Ah… a new face in the Fortress. A new body. Tell me, Doctor, what is the name of 
this lovely victim?”

“This one’s not for you.”

“No?” Kharg laughed. “They all come to Kharg, sooner or later. She will be no exception.”

“Yes, she will. This one is a special case, Kharg. The ordinary rules of the Fortress don’t 
apply to her.”

Kharg smiled understanding. “This must be the one called Lydia, then.”

“Correct,” Gladstone snapped.

Kharg nodded politely to Lydia. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Kharg, assistant to the
Dungeon Master. I punish the disobedient.

Pray that you never fall into my hands, Lydia.”

Kharg turned to the girl in his arms. “This little lady was very disobedient. Lucy was a 
naughty girl. She used to be one of the Doctor’s nurses, until he caught her stealing drugs.”

Doris said, “We’ve talked enough. Shall we get on with it, then?”

Kharg grinned. “Impatient, aren’t you? Don’t you know that a nurse should only keep her…
patients?”

Doris groaned at the. bad pun. “What will do to Lucy will be bad enough. There’s no need 
for you to torment her further with your awful jokes.”

“A man in my profession must always keep his sense of humor intact.”

The examining table was divided into three sections. Each of the sections had a metal 
circle with a handle underneath it.

The purpose of this division soon became apparent as Doris turned the handles. By 
turning them, the separate sections of the table could be raised or lowered.

Doris cranked the table so that the top third was nearly vertical, and the bottom third was 
the same.

The examining table now had much the same form as a dentist’s or barber’s chair. The top 
section was the back rest, the middle section was the seat, and the bottom third was the leg 
rest.

Doris and Kharg forced the futilely struggling Lucy down on the chair table. Doris fastened
the canvas restraint to the girl’s legs, pinning them down.

Next, she fastened the second strap around the girl’s waist.

Kharg went to the stainless steel table by the sink, and picked up a device from it.

Not even the metal band covering her mouth could muffle Lucy’s scream of terror.

The device resembled a metal half-bra. It consisted of a metal strap with a pair of metal 
half-cups bolted on to the front.

Inside the center of each cup was a screw with a needle-sharp point.

Lydia gasped as she realized the awful implications of the punishment device.

Kharg picked up the device, and fastened it around Lucy’s squirming torso. He fit her 
breasts snugly inside the metal cups.

Reaching behind her back, he slid the two ends of the metal band into a locking clip. The 
lock was equipped with a clamp, and by tightening it, Kharg was able to fit the metal bra 
tightly to Lucy’s body.

The twin screws jutted out of the metal cups like thick nails. The needle points of them 
were positioned right against Lucy’s nipples.

<<< IMAGE 04 >>>

Lucy wasn’t in pain… yet. Kharg hadn’t tightened the needle-pointed screws. Their tips 
rested against Lucy’s nipples, but that was all.

Kharg and Doris pushed Lucy back so that the girl’s back rested against the rest. Then 
Doris fastened the third restraining strap over the girl’s arms, pinning her to the chair-table.

Then Kharg began to tighten the screws.

It was horrible. Lydia couldn’t bear to watch. She lowered her head until her chin rested on
her chest, and stared steadily at her feet.

As Kharg tightened the screws, they were forced inward, so that the points of them bored 
against Lucy’s nipples.

Lucy struggled frantically as the points pushed against her soft, pink flesh. Lydia could hear
the girl’s stifled screams, and the sounds of her body tearing uselessly at the canvas straps 
which held her helplessly immobile.

Kharg continued the tightening process. He was having one hell of a good time, and he 
did his job slowly so he could savor every last minute of it.

Doris was quite excited. She leaned against the wall and put her hand between her legs. 
Her fingers roughly rubbed her clitoris.

Slowly but surely, the needle points penetrated the flesh of Lucy’s nipples. The girl made a 
continuous shrieking that sounded like nothing human.

Doctor Gladstone took out his cock and played with it until it was hard.

Doris got on her knees at his feet. She opened her mouth and took his cock inside it and 
sucked it. At the same time, she continued to play with her pussy.

Both she and the doctor kept their eyes firmly glued to the tortured girl in the chair.

Kharg gave the screws a final twist. The twin points had now penetrated Lucy’s nipples and
punctured them. Blood flowed out from under the metal bra cups.

Lucy’s eyes rolled in her head, and she fainted dead away.

Kharg looked up from his work. He saw Lydia staring at him in absolute horror. He 
grinned.

He said, “Let that be a lesson to you, Miss Lydia. Those who break the rules can expect 
swift and painful punishment.”

He said, “The girl’s fainted, Doctor. Keep her locked up tight in the bra for the rest of night.
That will give her time to ponder the folly of her wicked ways.”

Gladstone nodded. Doris sucked him until he came in her mouth.

Kharg bowed politely, and exited.

After the doctor shot his load of semen in his nurse’s mouth, he and Doris took Lydia into 
the bathroom.

She was put in the shower stall, and given a thorough washing, with plenty of attention 
given to her pussy and her ass.

When she was scrubbed clean, she was given a warm robe. Her hands were cuffed behind 
her, and Doris led her out of the room.

Lydia paused at the threshold of the door. Lucy was still unconscious, but beginning to stir.
Lydia shook her head in pity.

Doris took Lydia to a small cell with a cot inside. Lydia was locked in for the night. Despite 
the horrors she had witnessed, and her uncertainty over her own fate, she was so exhausted 
that she soon fell sound asleep.

She was fed three times during the next day—breakfast, lunch, and dinner. The food was 
simple, rough fare, but compared to the slop she had been fed at Cuda’s, it was a gourmet 
taste treat.

Shortly after the third meal, two masked men entered her cell. They attached the chains to 
her, and led her to the council room of the Archons.

Now, Lydia stood naked on the council room floor, her flesh glowing in the hellish red 
light.

She wondered what was going to happen.





CHAPTER FIVE


Although it was pleasantly warm in the council chamber, Lydia shivered and hugged herself. 
Her movements set her chain links to rattling.

Her months of experience as a slave served her well. Without being told to do so, she 
lowered herself to her knees.

She leaned forward, and pressed her forehead against the cool stones of the floor.

She remained in this posture of submission.

One of the Archons said, “Rise.”

Lydia got to her feet. She looked up at the hooded Archons. In their monk’s cowls, they 
resembled medieval inquisitors.

She couldn’t make out their faces, but it seemed as though the woman in the group sat on
the left.

The man in the middle spoke: “You are Lydia Norden?”

“Yes,” Lydia said.

“You are the daughter of John Richard Norden, and Clarissa Norden, whose maiden name 
was Buchanan?”

“Yes… both my parents are deceased.”

“We know that.”

The woman on the left said, “I am sure you are consumed with curiosity as to the reasons 
you are here, Lydia.”

“Yes—yes, I am.”

“Ask your questions, then, and they shall be answered.”

Lydia cleared her throat nervously. “Well, to begin with—who are you?”

The man seated on the right spoke for the first time. “We are the Archons. We are the 
rulers of this society.”

“What society?”

“We call our group—Charenton.”

Charenton!

That was the word that Willoughby had died with on his lips, Lydia recalled. She said 
hesitantly, “Charenton is some kind of secret society?”

The man in the middle said, “The secret society. We are the hidden masters, the puppet 
masters who pull all the strings.”

“She is confused,” the woman said. “Let us reveal ourselves to her.”

The other two Archons agreed with her.

The woman threw back her hood, revealing her face. She was forty-five years old, with 
aristocratic features and thin lips.

Her hair was dark, and speckled with gray. She said, “I am Roberta Cabot.”

Lydia restrained a gasp. Although she had never met her personally, Lydia knew who 
Roberta Cabot was.

Roberta Cabot was the wife of one of the most important men in the cabinet of the 
President of the United States.

The man on the left threw back his hood. He was about forty, with a dark, brooding face. “I
am Wilson Fairlawn.”

Although she had never seen him before, Lydia recognized the name. Fairlawn was the 
genius bio-chemist who had been one of the youngest recipients to ever be awarded the 
Nobel Prize.

The man in the center removed his hood. He was sixty years old, with a full head of silver 
hair, and deep-set, glittering eyes.

This time, Lydia did gasp when she saw him. She recognized him immediately, the way 
that, anyone who ever picked up a newspaper, or turned on the TV news, would have.

He said, “I am Xavier H. Huntley.”

Xavier H. Huntley was a modern-day Croesus—one of the richest men in the world. He had
made his millions in oil, but he made his billions through building up one of the biggest 
conglomerates the planet had ever seen.

Lydia said, “You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”

“Why do you say that?” Wilson Fairlawn asked.

“You are all too important,” Lydia said. “You three would never let anyone go who could 
link you with this place, and the things that happen inside it.”

“Under ordinary circumstances, your assumption would be correct,” Fairlawn admitted. 
“But ordinary circumstances do not apply in your case.”

“Why?” Lydia demanded. “What makes me so important to your group that you had me 
rescued and brought here?”

“Blood,” Roberta Cabot answered. “Your blood. Because you are the daughter of John and 
Clarissa Norden.” Xavier Huntley leaned forward. “Your parents were members of our society. 
They performed many valuable services to the group.”

Roberta asked, “Haven’t you wondered why your aunt, Glenda Macklin, arranged for you 
to be sold into whoredom?”

“I only discovered that she had done that a little while ago,” Lydia said. “I can’t think of any
reason why she would do such a thing. Willoughby—her lawyer—said something about 
money, a great deal of money. But I didn’t know what he was talking about, and I still don’t.”

“Ah, yes,” Huntley said, “money. The root of all evil—and all progress.”

“Your father made a great deal of money,” Roberta said. “Scores of millions of dollars.” 
Fairlawn continued, “He hid that money away in various numbered Swiss bank accounts. It was
to be yours when you came of age. But, if you weren’t around to claim it, then the money 
would automatically go to next heir in line.”

Xavier Huntley chuckled. “That next heir, is, of course, Glenda Macklin—your aunt.” Lydia 
felt as though a light bulb had gone on inside her head. Now, so much that she hadn’t 
understood suddenly became crystal-clear to her.

Finally, Lydia said, “One thing I don’t understand. Why didn’t Glenda have me killed, 
instead of going to all the trouble she went to?”

Roberta said, “The answer to that question lies in one word—Charenton.”

“Your aunt had heard enough hints about our group to fear us,” Fairlawn explained. “She 
dared not do anything, er, permanent to you.”

“She was clever,” Huntley said with grudging admiration. “It took us a long time to find 
you. We were only able to do so by having Willoughby followed to Santa Esmerelda.”

“And now, here you are,” Fairlawn said.

Lydia said, “Now that you have me—what are you going to do with me?”

Huntley pointed at her. “Come up here.”

There was a flight of wooden stairs on one side of the raised platform. Lydia went to it. She
had to move in a shuffle because of her chains.

She climbed the stairs. The Archons pushed back their chairs against the wall. Lydia stood 
between them and the bench.

Roberta stood up. With sudden violence, she seized Lydia’s head between her hands, and 
crushed her mouth against the girl’s.

Roberta’s tongue thrust against Lydia’s teeth. Lydia opened her mouth wide, and the older 
woman jammed her tongue inside it.

Fairlawn stood behind Lydia. His hard, strong hands fondled her bottom.

Xavier Huntley said, “You are the daughter of John and Clarissa Norden. You are one of 
us.”

Fairlawn said, “You will be our slave… but you will help us rule the world.”

Roberta broke off the kiss. Lydia was pale and trembling from the force of the woman’s 
passion.

Roberta said, “You will serve us in every way, my dear.”

Huntley threw off his robe. He was naked underneath it. Despite his age, his body was still 
in trim, fit condition, and looked like that of man ten years younger.

The hair on his chest, and his pubic hair, were both iron-gray. His cock was long, and 
dangled against his left thigh.

Huntley turned so that his back was to Lydia. “On your knees, girl, and give me the kiss of 
submission!”

Roberta and Wilson Fairlawn stood on either side of Huntley. They each put a hand on his 
withered buttocks, and spread the cheeks wide open.

Lydia dropped to her knees. Roberta said, “Kiss him between the buttocks, child.”

Lydia inched forward on her knees. She pressed her face between the billionaire’s bottom 
cheeks. They pressed against her flesh.

Lydia put her soft lips against Huntley’s anus, and kissed it. But she knew that it wasn’t 
enough.

She stuck out her tongue, and circled the rim of his tight, brown ring with her tongue tip. 
He sighed with satisfaction.

She pressed her tongue against his anus. She forced it past the tight-gripping sphincter 
muscle, and inside his rectum.

Using her tongue as though it was a miniature penis, Lydia thrust it in and out of Huntley’s
ass.

Huntley clenched his buttocks, and shivered with ecstasy. Lydia heard Fairlawn and 
Roberta murmur with pleased delight.

After a moment, Huntley pulled away from her. Lydia remained motionless, with her 
tongue sticking out between her lips.

Huntley turned around. His cock was hard and stiff and jutted out from his hips. It was 
gnarled with thick, pulsing veins.

He said, “That was a most stimulating kiss, my dear. Apparently the time that you spent as 
a slave whore was not entirely wasted.”

Lydia tilted her head forward. She touched her tongue to the base of Huntley’s cock. She 
licked up the shaft, then kissed his cock head.

She looked up at Huntley. He smiled approvingly. “Don’t stop now, girl.”

Lydia opened her mouth wide. She took hold of the base of his cock between her thumb 
and forefinger. She guided it into her warm, wet mouth.

Her lips wrapped around his knobbed cock head. She swirled it around in her mouth, 
working her tongue against it.

Huntley put his hands on his hips. He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, 
causing his cock to thrust in and out of Lydia’s red-lipped mouth.

His cock head bumped against the back of her throat. Lydia relaxed her muscles there, and
took the entire length of his cock inside her.

Roberta and Wilson Fairlawn stood on either side with their arms folded. They watched 
with silent smiles as Lydia sucked Huntley’s cock.

Lydia raised her chained hands. As delicately as possible, with a feather touch, she lightly 
stroked his balls with her fingertips.

It didn’t take long before the billionaire came in her mouth.

Lydia’s throat muscles worked as she swallowed the old man’s semen. She gulped it down 
her gullet.

Huntley’s small hands were clenched into fists. “God! God, that was good!”

When the last shuddering throes of his climax passed, he pulled his cock out of Lydia’s 
mouth. Playfully she licked his cock head as it dropped out of her lips.

A drop of pearly white come clung to the corner of her mouth. Lydia stuck out her long 
pink tongue, and licked it up.

Huntley staggered back, and abruptly sat down in a chair. He said to his fellow Archons, 
“You two take over for a while. I’ve got to rest. I’m not a young man anymore.”

Lydia looked up. Roberta and Wilson moved close to her. They took off their robes. Like 
Huntley, they both were naked underneath them.

Wilson had a stocky, broad-shouldered body. He was very hairy. Hair covered his chest 
and belly and shoulders in a thick, curly mat.

His cock was of average length, but was extraordinarily thick. His balls were heavy and 
swollen, like a pair of tennis balls hanging in a fleshy sack.

Roberta was slender, with lush breasts that only betrayed the slightest trace of sag. The 
nipples were very long, and hardened into points of desire even as Lydia stared at them.

Roberta had a thin waist, the result of a lifetime of stringent dieting. Like the hair on her 
head, her pubic bush was flecked with gray.

Her legs were long and strong and splendid.

She had small feet with delicate toes. Her hips were without the slightest trace of excess 
poundage. One other detail that Lydia noticed—Roberta didn’t shave her armpits. There were 
tufts of hair sprouting under her arms.

Wilson Fairlawn turned around, and presented his backside to Lydia. “The kiss,” he 
prompted, “give me the kiss of submission.”

He held his buttocks spread apart. Lydia stuck her face between them, and tongued his 
anus as she had done for Huntley.

When Fairlawn pulled away and turned around, his cock was fully erect. It was stiff and 
stubby, and of a remarkable diameter.

Roberta presented her bottom to Lydia, and once more Lydia put her tongue to work. 
Roberta’s long, slender fingers stroked her own clitoris as Lydia’s limber tongue penetrated 
her bottom.

After a while, Roberta climbed on to the top of the Archon’s bench. It was rectangular, and
was over six feet long and two feet wide.

Roberta lay down on it on her back. She bent her legs so that they were sticking up, and 
spread her legs.

She called Lydia to her. Lydia stood at Roberta’s feet. Roberta sat up, took hold of Lydia’s 
hair, and lay back down again.

As she did so, she pulled Lydia’s face into her pussy.

Lydia buried her face in Roberta’s pussy. It was wet, and smelled musky. Lydia thrust her 
tongue between the cunt lips and began to lick the sleek, slippery pink membranes.

Lydia made wet, slurping sounds as her tongue explored the hidden warmth and crevasses
of Roberta’s pussy.

Seeing that Lydia was an accomplished cunt-eater, Roberta relaxed her grip on the girl’s 
hair.

Sighing heavily, Roberta cupped her own breasts, and fondled the smooth undersides of 
them. She pinched and pulled her nipples, enjoying the mixture of breast stimulation and 
Lydia’s tonguing of her clitoris.

Huntley said, “There can be no pleasure without pain. Fairlawn—the whip!”

Wilson Fairlawn reached under the Archon’s bench. There, on a shelf inside it, there was a 
variety of bondage devices.

Fairlawn picked up a cat-o’-nine-tails. It had a heavy braided leather handle, and nine 
snakelike leather thongs coming out of it.

Fairlawn cracked the whip in the air. Then he took up a position behind Lydia.

Fairlawn let the thongs of the cat brush against Lydia’s curved rump. Lydia shivered at the 
cool touch of leather against her flesh.

Fairlawn cracked the whip against Lydia’s bottom, not viciously, but briskly. The girl’s moan
was muffled by Roberta’s pussy.

Wilson Fairlawn began to pick up the pace. He whipped Lydia’s ass again and again, harder
and harder. The soft white cheeks of her buttocks began to be covered with thin red lines of 
blood.

Fairlawn cut her again. Lydia raised her head from Roberta’s pussy, and cried out in pain. 
Roberta put her hand on top of the girl’s head, and pushed her back down into her pussy.

Roberta held her there while Fairlawn whipped her ten more times. Hot tears spilled out of
Lydia’s eyes, and splashed on to Roberta’s thighs.

Lydia tensed her trembling body, waiting for the whip to descend again. It didn’t happen. 
Instead, Wilson Fairlawn reversed the whip in his hands.

He spread Lydia’s shaking legs the maximum eighteen inches that her chain hobble would 
allow.

Lydia felt something bump against her delicate pussy lips. It was the knobbed tip of the 
braided leather whip’s handle.

Fairlawn pushed it between her cunt lips. Lydia moaned as he pushed the handle into her. 
It was hard and thick and unyielding against the slippery softness of her pussy.

Roberta clamped her muscular thighs against Lydia’s head, holding her firmly in place 
while Fairlawn violated the girl’s cunt with the long handle of the cat.

Wilson Fairlawn fed six rigid inches of the handle into Lydia’s pussy before he began to 
thrust it back and forth, in and out.

When he finally removed the handle, the black leather gleamed with Lydia’s pussy juices. 
Fairlawn raised the handle to his mouth, and licked it.

He put the whip down. Lydia paused, wondering what would happen next. Roberta said, 
“Don’t stop, girl. Keep on licking me.”

Lydia planted her wet face back in Roberta’s pussy. She pressed her tongue tip against the 
older woman’s fleshy clitoris, and began to lick it again.

Wilson Fairlawn rubbed the head of his cock against Lydia’s bottom, and the smooth backs
of her thighs.

Holding her buttocks apart, he forced his wide cock head into the girl’s anus. Lydia 
moaned and groaned. She had been fucked in the ass many times since being taken captive, 
but she had never had a cock as thick in diameter as his inside her.

The head of the member caused the girl’s anus to fold in on itself, stretching her terribly. 
Lydia felt like she was being split apart.

Fairlawn pushed his wedge-shaped cock head past the girl’s sphincter muscle. He shivered
with delight as his member encountered the creamy softness of Lydia’s rectum.

Once he was inside her, he quickly forced the rest of his shaft into the girl’s tight hole. 
Lydia shrieked.

Lydia gasped and groaned as Fairlawn sodomized her. As he did so, he fondled her 
bleeding buttocks, and occasionally fingered her pussy.

It seemed like an eternity, but it was only a few minutes before Fairlawn came inside the 
girl’s asshole.

He parted her buttocks, and pulled his cock out. He wiped it clean of semen by rubbing it 
against her pubic bush.

Lydia continued working her tongue against Roberta’s clitoris. It wasn’t very much longer 
after that when the older woman shivered with her orgasm, and pushed Lydia’s tongue away 
from her pussy.

Exhausted, Lydia sank on her knees, and filled her lungs with big gasping gulps of cool, 
refreshing air.

Xavier H. Huntley looked like a stone statue of an ancient pharaoh as he sat in his chair 
and stared at Lydia.

“You are young and naive,” he said, “but that will pass. We will teach you how to rule. You 
will learn the supreme joys of cruelty and the infliction of pain.”

He continued, “When one of our Society is struck, he does not turn the other cheek. 
Charenton never forgets an insult, or an injury. And we take an unholy delight in revenging 
ourselves on our enemies, daughter of John and Clarissa Norden.”

Lydia said, “Revenge… yes, revenge. That would be the sweetest pleasure of all.”

“Even now,” Huntley said, “our agents are hard at work. They have been given the names 
of those who have tormented you. Even now, our agents are setting the machinery of revenge
in motion. Even now…” Meanwhile, eighteen hundred miles to the north, the machinery of 
revenge began to move.

It was night in New York City. Glenda Macklin sat in the passenger seat of a red sports car, 
making sideways glances at the handsome man who sat in the driver’s seat.

Forty year old Glenda was a handsome, full-bodied woman. Her face looked like the face 
of a woman ten years her junior.

Only the network of wrinkles and fine lines around her eyes, and her heavily veined hands, 
betrayed her age.

Her body was superb. She had spent countless thousands of hours sweating and straining 
in health spas and exercise centers to keep in shape.

She was a big woman, and her physique demanded that she constantly exercise to keep it 
in top condition.

Her breasts were incredibly voluptuous, and measured in at a bra-bursting 45-DD. Her 
brassiere was specially underwired to support the mounds of soft flesh.

Her waist was thick but not fat. Her hips were wide, lush, and swelling, and her legs were 
strong.

Her hair was a golden mane. She had it touched up occasionally to cover the gray streaks, 
but only her hairdresser could tell for sure.

Her lips were red, wide, and sensuous. She wore a simple black dress which clung to her 
curves.

The red sportster weaved through the traffic. The man behind the wheel drove with 
uncanny skill as he cut through the city traffic.

He swerved around a parked car which had abruptly thrust itself into the flow of traffic. 
The sportsters front bumper narrowly avoided the car’s fender as it swung around it.

Glenda gasped. She clutched the man’s arm. “For God’s sake, Jase, be careful!”

Jase smiled tightly. “Worried?”

“I thought that idiot was going to crash into us for certain!”

Jase reassuringly patted her thigh. “Relax. I’ve got everything under control. Besides, we’re 
almost there.”

Glenda sank back in the bucket seat. There was something reassuring about Jase. He was 
tough, coolly competent, and undeniably masculine.

She had only met him this moaning. A mutual friend, Nancy Clarke, had arranged the 
introduction.

Nancy Clarke was an even better friend of Roberta Cabot’s, but of course there was no way
for Glenda to have known that.

Nancy had been well coached, and played her part to. perfection. She told Glenda that 
Jase was a Texan, and the heir to a fortune.

If there was anything that Glenda liked more than handsome men, it was money. Jase had 
been quite attentive to her, and Glenda thought that they had hit it off from the start.

They spent the day together, and dined on an exquisite meal at an exclusive French 
restaurant. Now they were going for a ride to look at some property which Jase said that he 
was thinking of acquiring.

Jase pulled the Sportster over to the curb at a place not far from the waterfront.

“Here we are,” he said, shutting off the engine. “Let’s go inside.”

Glenda hesitated. “Are you sure that it’s safe, Jase? This neighborhood looks kind of, well, 
dangerous to me.”

“It’s as safe as milk.” He got out of the car, went around to her side, and opened the door. 
“Come on.”

He took Glenda’s hand. She followed him somewhat reluctantly. The pressure of his strong
grip on her hand was reassuring, however.

Jase took out a set of keys, and unlocked the metal double doors. A light was burning 
inside. He and Glenda entered the building. Jase closed and locked the doors behind him.

Glenda said, “Is there anybody here?’ Besides us, I mean.”

“Just you—and me,” Jase smiled. “Come on upstairs.”

The elevator wasn’t working, so he and Glenda had to climb three flights of stairs to get to
the loft. By the time they reached it, Glenda was huffing and puffing.

She wiped sweat from her forehead. “Whew! That’s some kind of exercise!”

Jase put his hand on her bottom. “I know a better one, little lady.”

Glenda smiled archly at him. Jase turned on the lights, and they entered the loft. It was 
dingy and dusty. The windows were boarded over. In one corner there was an old, soiled 
mattress.

As soon as they were inside, Jase grabbed her.

Glenda murmured, “My, you Texans certainly are impetuous, aren’t you?” She tilted back 
her head and opened her mouth to be kissed.

Jase squeezed her breasts. He cupped them, and pushed them together roughly.

Glenda said, “Ow! Hey, take it easy! You don’t have to be so rough!”

Jase reached out and grabbed two fistfuls of her dress. Suddenly, he yanked them 
downward.

The dress ripped open from the shoulders to the waist. Glenda’s huge breasts in their 
black brassiere cups were revealed.

She was angry. “What the hell’s wrong with you? Listen, buster, I don’t go for this kind of 
rough stuff!”

“I do,” Jase said.

“Yeah, I’ll just bet you do,” Glenda said. “Well, you’ve got the wrong idea about this lady, 
cowboy. This is where I get off!”

“Do you?”

“You’re damned right I do! And you can bet your ass I’ll be telling Nancy Clarke what a 
shitheel you turned out to be!”

“You won’t be telling Nancy Clarke anything, honey.”

“What the hell do you mean by that?!”

Glenda demanded.

“Shut up,” Jase said.

Glenda’s fear hadn’t yet overpowered her anger. She tried to charge past Jase and get to 
the door.

Jase caught her by the wrist and flung her to the floor. Glenda went sprawling. She cried 
out in pain as she hit the dusty floorboards.

She raised herself up on her hands and knees. She was afraid, now. “Jesus—you are crazy!”

“Not at all,” Jase said mildly. “I’m just a man doing his day’s work.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but let me warn you, you’re getting yourself in 
way over your head. I carry a lot of clout in this town, and I could have you thrown in jail for 
what you’ve done!”

Jase said, “You’ve got a lot of lessons to learn, lady. Here’s the first of them.”

Without warning, he grabbed a fistful of Glenda’s hair. She shrieked as he yanked it. Her 
shriek was cut short as Jase rocked her with an open-handed slap across the face.

He followed up the slap with a half-dozen more just like it. When he stopped, his palm was
stinging. He could imagine how her face felt.

Glenda stared up fearfully at him. She had never been treated like this in her entire life, 
and she was totally terrified.

Both sides of her face were red and raw. There was a purple bruise under her eye. Her lips 
were smashed and puffy. Blood trickled down her chin.

She held up her hands in surrender and pleaded, “No more! Please, no more!”

“There’ll be plenty more,” Jase said. “That was only your first lesson. There’ll be lots more 
of them, starting right now.”

Bending over, he ripped her dress off her body. Glenda rolled around on the floor, 
clutching the remaining shreds of fabric to her body.

Jase ripped them off, too. Glenda wore her black bra, a pair of black panties, and dark 
nylons.

Jase said, “Let’s get a better look at those big, fine tits.”

He ripped off Glenda’s bra, baring her breasts. Her nipples were as big as thumbs, and the 
pale pink aureolae measured nearly two inches in diameter.

Jase stared at them with hungry admiration. “No, this job won’t be half-bad at all.”

Glenda sobbed. She crossed her arms over her breasts, covering her nipples.

Jase said, “Let’s see what else you’ve got, honey.”

He grabbed the top of her panties. Glenda tried to hold on to them. Jase slapped her so 
hard that she fell backward on the floor. He pulled the panties down her hips, over her 
thrashing legs, and off her ankles.

He raised the crotch of the panties to his nostrils, and inhaled deeply. He grinned. 
“Sweeter than perfume.”

Glenda’s pubic bush was dark brown, and very hairy. She put one hand over her cunt, and 
placed her arm over her nipples.

Jase got a length of rope. He twisted her arms behind her until she screamed. Then he tied
her wrists together behind her back.

Glenda decided to change tactics. Seeing that resistance was useless against Jase.

She said, “You—you want to lay me, don’t you?”

Jase said, “Yeah.”

Glenda pasted a phony smile on her face. Her expression was so contorted with fear, that 
the smile looked twice as ghastly. It twitched at the edges of her mouth.

She said, “You don’t have to hurt me. I’ll do… whatever you want me to do.”

“That’s very obliging,” Jase said dryly. “The trouble is, what I really want to do is hurt you, 
honey. You understand how it is.” Glenda’s smile dissolved. “Oh, God, please don’t hurt me! 
Please!”

“Sorry, honey, but that’s the way it is.”

Glenda screamed, “HELP! HELP! PLEASE, SOMEBODY, HELP ME!”

Jase let her shout until her voice trailed off into a ragged sob. “Go ahead and yell your 
damned fool head off. Nobody’ll hear you, anyway.”

He said, “Tell you what, Glenda. It just so happens that I’ve got a little surprise all prepared 
for you.”

He scratched his head. “Now, where in the heck did I leave that thing…? Oh, yeah, now I 
remember!”

He went to the mattress and lifted a corner of it and reached under it. He took out a long, 
snakelike rawhide whip.

He cracked it in the air. The blood drained from Glenda’s face, and she turned as white as 
a cloud.

Jase padded over to her. Glenda tried to stand up. She lost her balance and toppled on 
her side. She sobbed, but kept on crawling.

Jase let the whip trail along the floor. He loosened up his wrist, then swung the whip and 
struck Glenda with it.

The rawhide curled around her thigh, seeming almost to caress it. There-was a loud crack 
as leather struck the tender flesh.

The crack of the whip was immediately drowned out by Glenda’s scream.

Jase said, “Wonder if I can hit those tits of yours, honey?”

<<< IMAGE 05 >>>

Glenda lay down on her belly. Jase laughed. He said, “So you want to play games, do you?”

He swung the whip. It landed on Glenda’s plump, rounded buttocks. It slashed open a red,
bleeding line across her soft white bottom cheeks.

He whipped her again, this time across the backs of her thighs. Another red slash 
appeared. It ran diagonally across the tops of her strong legs.

Glenda was hysterical with pain and fear.

Jase whipped her on the side. Glenda convulsed with agony as the whip struck her. Her 
movement caused her to roll on her side.

The whip fell, curling across her breasts. It ripped open a gash across the tops of her 
breasts.

Jase struck again, quickly. This lash was particularly well aimed. Not only did it strike her 
breasts, but it slashed across one of her nipples.

Glenda shrieked wordlessly. Jase whipped her another half-dozen times.

He tossed the whip on the floor, and went over to Glenda. Her white body was covered 
with the red gashes that the cruel whip had ripped into her body.

Jase grabbed a handful of her hair, and dragged her to the mattress. He kicked her until 
she rolled on to it. She was semi-conscious.

She looked up at him with pain-dulled eyes. She croaked, “… No more… please… no 
more…” Jase unbuckled his belt. He opened his trousers, and pulled down his zipper. His cock 
was rigidly erect.

He said, “Now, I’ll fuck you, honey.”





CHAPTER SIX


Jase took off his pants. His cock was hard. It jutted out from his lean hips.

He stood over Glenda. She started to raise herself up on her elbows. Jase put his foot 
against her chest and pushed her backward.

Glenda fell moaning on to her back. Jase put his foot against hers, and pushed her legs 
wide open.

He said, “You sure are a hairy bitch. You ought to shave some of that mess off. Well, I 
guess that’ll be taken care of later.”

He knelt between her legs. Glenda’s eyes closed. Her mouth lolled open slackly, and she 
groaned.

Jase grabbed her breasts and dug his fingernails into them. “Come on, Fat Tits, wake up!”

Glenda screeched in protest. Her eyes opened.

Jase grinned and said, “That’s better.”

He held his cock in his hand and rubbed the broad head of it against her thighs. His 
member became as red as a roaring furnace, and felt almost as hot.

He knew just how to cool it off.

He thrust two of his fingers into her pussy. Glenda gasped. She wasn’t as tight as he would
have liked, but she was tight enough.

Her pussy was dry. That didn’t bother Jase. In fact, it just might be better. It would make 
her a bit tighter that way.

He stuffed his cock head between the lips of her pussy. She was dry, but her pink pussy 
membranes were achingly soft.

Glenda wriggled her hips. Jase said, “Relax, you ain’t going anywhere—not yet, anyway.”

His hands pinned her wide hips to the filthy, stained mattress. He lowered himself down 
on her.

Glenda sobbed with pain as Jase’s hard, muscular chest rubbed against her whipped 
breasts, making them ache with renewed agony.

Jase shoved his hips forward. His cock had difficulty forcing its way into her. She was so 
dry that it was tough for him to get a toehold.

He thrust into her. Glenda shrieked. His member stretched the inside of her pussy. The 
swollen shaft of his cock disappeared inside her.

He kept on pushing until the base of his cock was pressed against her soft, yielding cunt 
lips. Then he started to rock back and forth.

Glenda’s pussy began to moisten after he had been thrusting into her for a while. The 
lubrication helped him to stroke faster.

His belly slapped against hers. He ground his hips into her. Glenda shuddered with 
revulsion and turned her head to one side.

Jase’s balls were fat and swollen. He felt a corkscrew twisting in his belly that told him that 
he would come soon.

There was the sound of his flesh slapping against hers; his deep, rhythmic breathing; her 
panting gasps and moans.

From outside came the faint, muffled whisper of traffic. It sounded infinitely distant… 
especially to Glenda.

Jase pushed her large breasts together. Each of them seemed to be almost as big as his 
head. They were cruelly marked from the whipping.

He bit Glenda’s nipples until she screamed. She writhed under him, but there was nothing 
she could do to lessen her torment.

Jase’s cock thrust faster and faster into her. There was a churning sensation in his belly. He 
thrust his cock hard and deep.

Semen spurted into Glenda’s pussy.

When his orgasm had passed, Jase lay motionless on top of the voluptuous matron. His 
eyes were open and staring, and his face was flushed.

After a while, he pulled his hips back. His semen-oiled cock oozed out of her. Drops of 
come speckled her pubic bush.

Jase stood up and picked up his pants. He went through the pockets, looking for 
something. Glenda hugged her belly and wept.

Jase found what he was looking for. It was a glossy photograph.

He knelt down beside Glenda. “Sit up.. Come on, Fat Tits, sit up before I kick you up.”

He grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her to a sitting position. Glenda’s face was a 
study in agony.

Jase said, “I’ve got something to show you. You ought to get a kick out of this. Here, take a
look.”

He held the photograph in front of her face. Glenda’s eyes were glazed and dull. She tried 
to focus them.

The photograph was a candid shot of a young woman. She was about twenty years old, 
blonde and busty, and apparently unaware that her picture had been taken.

Glenda’s eyes focused. Something about the photograph caught her attention, and 
sudden animation came into her face.

Her wounded breasts trembled as she took a sudden intake of breath. Recognizing the girl
in the photo, she gasped, “That—that’s my daughter! My daughter Rhonda!”

“It’s a wise mother who knows her own daughter,” Jase smirked. “Takes a nice picture, 
doesn’t she?”

The pain on her face was instantly replaced by stark fear. “You monster! What are you 
doing with that picture of Rhonda?!”

Jase chuckled.

Glenda screamed, “What are you going to do to my daughter?!”

Jase patted her thigh. “Don’t you worry about little Rhonda. She’s in very good hands.”

At that moment, Rhonda Macklin was sitting at the bar in a club called the Nite Owl.

It was a swinging place. The dance floor was crowded with young, beautiful people of both
sexes doing the latest dances.

Disco music pounded out from huge column speakers which resembled coffins. 
Multi-colored lights flickered and flashed over the swaying, gyrating dancers.

Rhonda was bored.

She was a slimmer, leaner replica of her mother, Glenda Macklin. Rhonda was tall and 
long-legged, with firm, full, rounded breasts.

Her face was more delicately shaped than her mother’s. Her lips were full, but marred by a 
touch of pouting sulkiness.

She was sipping her drink from a long-stemmed glass. She was horribly bored. The club 
was filled with the same old, dull, familiar faces.

A stir rippled down the bar. People’s heads turned to see something. Rhonda looked up 
disinterestedly to see what the commotion was all about.

It was all about a woman.

She was beautiful. She was tall and lean and moved as gracefully as a jungle cat. She wore 
skin-tight black leather pants, boots, and a silver silk blouse.

Her eyebrows were dark. Her eyes were coolly insolent. Her face was sharply featured, and 
her mouth was a cruel red slash.

Her ripe, full breasts thrust against the shimmering fabric of her blouse. It was obvious that
she wasn’t wearing a bra.

Her breasts were so high and firm that she didn’t need a bra. Her nipples jutted against 
the blouse, and were plainly visible.

Rhonda’s eyes stared hotly at the newcomer. She had never seen her in the club before.

The woman was a new face, and a new body. And what a face, and what a body!

Rhonda suddenly didn’t feel so bored anymore.

A young stockbroker tried to move in on the woman. She cut him off as coolly as though 
she were flicking away a bothersome insect.

She seemed to be searching for someone. Her gaze traveled along the people seated at 
the bar.

She stopped when she saw Rhonda.

Rhonda was momentarily flustered when she saw the woman staring boldly at her. Rhonda
was used to being the aggressor in her relationships with men and women, but this newcomer
had already gotten the psychological jump on her.

The woman looked at her unflinchingly. Rhonda found herself blushing. She broke the 
gaze first, and stared down at the top of the bar.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the woman approach her.

The woman moved in next to her. There were no empty stools, so she stood. She was very 
tall, and her high-heeled boots made her even more towering.

The woman said, “Hmmmm… it looks like this night isn’t going to be a total loss after all.”

Rhonda looked up. “Excuse me?”

“I said, it looks like this night isn’t going to be a total loss after all—not as long as there’s a
pretty girl like you around.”

“That’s very flattering.”

“What’s your name, pretty girl?”

“Rhonda.”

“Mine’s Nora. Buy me a drink, Rhonda.”

Rhonda was momentarily annoyed. She most certainly was not used to being spoken to in 
such a fashion!

She was about to tell Nora to go to hell. The words trembled on her lips.

“Buy me a drink, Rhonda,” Nora repeated. She rested her hand on Rhonda’s knee and gave
it a little squeeze. “I promise you that you won’t regret it.”

Rhonda felt breathless and wet between the legs under the steady, hungry gaze of Nora’s 
dark eyes.

Finally, Rhonda said, “Well… all right.”

Twenty minutes and two drinks later, Rhonda and Nora left the club. They were holding 
hands.

Nora said that she was taking Rhonda to her place. “It’s a little hideaway down by the 
waterfront. It’s an old warehouse building, but I’ve got a room furnished inside.”

As she drove through traffic, Nora put her palm on Rhonda’s smooth thigh. She reached 
under Rhonda’s dress until her questing fingers encountered the satin panties which covered 
the girl’s pussy. Nora said, “Just you wait until I get you alone, Rhonda!”

“I can’t wait,” Rhonda said, shivering with anticipation. She closed her thighs and squeezed
Nora’s hand between them.

Nora parked her car behind Jase’s red sportster. In reality, both vehicles belonged to the 
masters of Charenton.

Nora unlocked the metal double doors, and she and Rhonda entered the building. Like the
cars, the building was also the property of the Society.

Rhonda hugged herself. The hall was musty and dimly lit. Paint was peeling off the wall in 
thousands of white chips. They looked like a swarm of white-winged moths clinging to the 
wall.

Nora took Rhonda into a small room on the first floor. The room had been created by 
partitioning off a section in the corner of the warehouse floor.

The room was small and simple. There was a stereo, a TV, a few chairs, a small refrigerator, 
and a big bed.

As soon as they were inside the room, Nora pushed Rhonda down on the bed.

Rhonda said, “Wow! You sure don’t waste any time, do you?”

“I’m a fast worker,” Nora said. “Besides, I have a feeling that a naughty girl like you needs 
to be treated firmly.”

Rhonda sat on the edge of the bed. Nora sat down next to her. She slipped an arm around
the girl’s waist, and smoothed her hair with her free hand.

Nora said, “Have you ever been tied up and had your pussy raped by a woman’s mouth, 
Rhonda? Because that’s what I’m going to do to you.”

Rhonda pressed her legs together. Nora’s remark brought a furious blush to the girl’s face.

Rhonda said, “You’re wild, Nora. I guess you’re kind of kinky, huh?”

“You could say that.” Nora smiled mockingly. “I feel kind of kinky when I’m with a 
gorgeous girl like you. I’d like to make you my slave.”

“That’s really far out.”

Nora pressed her mouth against Rhonda’s, and crushed their lips together. Rhonda 
reflexively opened her mouth, and Nora thrust her tongue into it.

Nora put her palm against Rhonda’s bosom and massaged her breasts while she kissed 
her roughly. Rhonda opened her legs.

Nora pulled her lips away. “You will do what I tell you to do.”

“… Maybe,” Rhonda said coyly.

“If you don’t, I’ll have to take down your little panties and spank you!”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Rhonda said provocatively, hoping that Nora would do exactly that.

She was not disappointed. Nora grabbed Rhonda, and wrestled her on to her lap. Rhonda 
giggled and shrieked and put up a token show of resistance.

Nora twisted Rhonda’s arms behind her back. Rhonda tried playfully to fight it. Nora 
tightened her grip, and Rhonda was amazed by the strength in her arms.

Nora raised Rhonda’s skirt over her waist, and pulled down the girl’s white satin panties.

Nora raised her hand and brought it down sharply. There was a loud crack as her palm 
smacked against Rhonda’s bottom.

Nora spanked Rhonda about twenty times. She didn’t hurt the girl. Rhonda wasn’t even 
crying, although her white buttocks were now red.

Nora pushed Rhonda off her lap, and on to the floor. Rhonda got on her knees, and 
rubbed her sore bottom with both hands.

“Ow!” she said. “That really hurt!”

“Maybe now you’ll do as you’re told, like a good little girl,” Nora said. “Let’s see what you 
look like without those clothes.”

Nora unzipped the back of Rhonda’s dress. Rhonda lifted her arms over her head. Nora 
lifted the dress off the girl.

Rhonda was in her bra and panties. Nora unhooked the bra, and the girl’s large breasts 
tumbled free. They were soft and white.

Nora touched the pink points on the tips of Rhonda’s breasts. “You’ve really got big 
nipples.”

She made Rhonda stand up, and pulled off the girl’s panties. She said, “Put your hands 
behind your back, slave.”

When Rhonda obeyed her command, Nora quickly slipped a pair of chromium steel 
handcuffs on her wrists and locked them into place. Rhonda said softly, “Wow, you are kinky!”

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Nora said.

Nora opened her blouse and took it off. Her breasts were lush and soft. She opened her 
zipper and pulled her pants down off her hips to her knees.

Rhonda knelt on the floor in front of her. She lowered her head, and stuck it between 
Nora’s thighs.

Rhonda’s face was pressed up against Nora’s pussy. The undersides of Nora’s thighs rested
on the blonde girl’s shoulders.

Nora said, “Lick it, slave.”

Rhonda kissed Nora’s brown-tufted pussy. She extended her tongue, and licked the folds 
of Nora’s cunt.

She dipped her tongue into Nora’s slit. Nora was hot and wet. She reached up and took 
her nipples between her fingers and squeezed them while Rhonda ate her pussy.

Rhonda slurped and sucked and lapped away until her whole face was covered with saliva 
and Nora’s pussy juices. She tongued Nora to orgasm. When Nora came, she closed her 
thighs, squeezing them against the sides of Rhonda’s head.

When she released the girl, Rhonda’s face was red and flushed. Nora pulled her thighs off 
the girl’s head, and stood up.

She told Rhonda to stand up. When Rhonda did so, Nora pushed her down on the bed.

Rhonda asked shyly, “Are you—are you going to do me now?”

“Yes, I suppose you could call it that,” Nora said. “In a manner of speaking.”

Nora went to a cabinet and opened the top drawer. She took out a thick handkerchief and
a glass bottle filled with a clear fluid.

Her back was to Rhonda as she removed the rubber stopper from the top of the bottle. 
She folded the handkerchief, and carefully poured some of the solution on it. Smoky fumes 
rose up from it. Nora was careful not to breath them.

“What are you doing?” Rhonda asked.

Nora said, “I’ve got a little surprise for you. A little surprise, for a little slave.”

Rhonda’s nostrils widened, and she sniffed delicately at the air. “Something smells funny… 
like medicine, or something.”

“Oh?”

Holding the saturated cloth behind her back, Nora smilingly approached the handcuffed, 
nude young lovely.

Rhonda smiled lustfully. Her smile turned into a shriek as Nora pinned her down on the 
bed and pressed the handkerchief against her face.

The handkerchief had been saturated with chloroform. Rhonda, truly frightened now, 
struggled vainly to get loose.

All the while, she was breathing the fumes. Her struggles grew weaker and weaker. Soon 
she stopped resisting entirely.

Nora lifted the cloth. Rhonda’s mouth formed a wide, gaping hole. The girl was in a state 
of deep unconsciousness.

When she was sure that Rhonda was totally drugged, and not likely to awaken soon, Nora 
went to work on her.

It was hard, sweaty work dragging the unconscious girl into the main part of the 
warehouse. Nora had a few amusing ideas she was just dying to try out on Rhonda.

A half-hour later, Nora was finished with her work. She was sweating, but it was nothing 
compared to the way that Rhonda would feel when she finally woke up.

Nora was naked from the waist up. Her upper body was gleaming with a fine sheen of 
sweat, and her nipples were hard.

She went up to the third floor. Jase sat on a chair, reading a comic book. Glenda looked up
fearfully from where she was lying on the stained mattress.

Jase asked Nora, “Everything go okay?”

“Just fine,” Nora said. “But don’t believe me. Come take a look for yourself.”

“Glad to.”

“And bring Mommy along. She ought to get a large charge out of this,” Nora smirked.

“You’re not kidding.” Jase put down his comic book, and stood up.

He kicked the groaning, weeping Glenda to her feet. The voluptuous matron was weak 
and unsteady. Jase and Nora each had to take one of her arms as they guided her down three 
flights of stairs.

<<< IMAGE 06 >>>

They reached the first floor, and stood outside the door. From inside came a high, 
wordless wail of pain and fear.

Glenda’s eyes widened so that white showed around the irises. Jase put his hand against 
her back, and pushed her into the room.

Glenda screamed, “Rhonda! Oh, my God!” Jase said, “There’s nothing like a family reunion, 
eh?”

“Nothing like it,” Nora agreed.

Rhonda hung on a bondage cross.

It was a T-shaped device, made from two beams bolted together. Rhonda’s arms were 
bent behind her, and hung from the horizontal crosspiece, the top bar of the T.

Her entire weight was supported by her arms, and the strain on her shoulder and elbow 
joints must have been something awful.

Her wrists were manacled and chained behind her, so she couldn’t get loose. Leg irons 
were fastened to her ankles, forcing her legs to bend backwards.

The chain holding the leg irons together was linked to the chain holding her arms 
together. Rhonda’s sweating body quivered with the strain.

Halfway down the vertical bar of the bondage cross, a saw-toothed metal hook jutted out 
horizontally from the wood.

Nora had hung Rhonda on the cross so that the girl straddled the hook. The vicious metal 
teeth pressed against the tender pink membranes of Rhonda’s pussy.

There was one final, crowning touch of pain.

Thin wires were looped around Rhonda’s nipples and pulled tight. Dangling from the wires
were a pair of round, metal balls.

Their cruel weight pulled agonizingly on Rhonda’s nipples, stretching them out of shape.

Rhonda recognized her mother. “Help me, Mommy! Help me! It hurts so much—so much! 
Help me!”

Glenda screamed at Jase and Nora, “You maniacs! Why are you doing these horrible things
to us? Why? Why?!”

Jase explained it in one word. He said, “Charenton.”

“No!” Glenda gasped. “No, it can’t be! No!”

Rhonda screamed, “Help me! Oh God, help me, please! Please!”





CHAPTER SEVEN


Glenda woke up in a stone cell.

She opened her bleary eyes. Her head ached. It felt like there was a sledge hammer 
pounding away at the inside of her skull.

Her mouth was cotton-dry. Her throat was sore and swollen. Her body ached with scores 
of bruises and cuts.

She came awake, and looked around at her surroundings. There wasn’t very much to see.

She was in a stone chamber that was little bigger than a large closet. She lay in a pile of 
straw on the floor.

She raised herself on her hands and knees. The action caused her skull to throb with 
savage fury.

She clapped her hands against her head and lay down until the pounding somewhat 
subsided.

She guessed that what she was suffering from were the after-effects of the drug that Jase 
and Nora had administered to her back in New York.

Seeing Rhonda hung up on the bondage cross had caused something to momentarily 
snap in Glenda’s brain. She became screamingly hysterical.

Jase held her while Glenda injected a drug into her veins. Glenda struggled even as the 
powerful drug took her under its sway.

Her vision blurred. The last thing that she saw was her daughter’s mouth, open and 
screaming for help, help which wasn’t coming.

The time following that was a confused blur, a jumble of chaotic impressions.

Glenda dimly remembered that she had been hustled into a car in the dead of night, and 
taken for a long drive.

Yes, and Rhonda was with her, too. Rhonda had been wrapped in a blanket, and was 
mercifully unconscious.

They had been driven out to a private landing field somewhere out on Long Island. Jase 
and Nora had loaded their female captives on to a plane.

The plane taxied down the runway, and became airborne. Glenda didn’t know what her 
destination was, but she remembered that it had been a long flight.

She had had the drug administered to her two times on the plane trip.

The plane landed somewhere. Glenda had vague memories of her and Rhonda being 
loaded on to a boat. The boat traveled out in the middle of a vast sea.

It had been a bumpy ride. That was the last thing that Glenda remembered.

Now, she was here. But where was here?

There was a small, square, barred window in one of the stone walls. Glenda crawled to it. 
She raised herself, and peered out of it.

All she saw was endless miles of blue sea. She was in some kind of ancient structure, a 
castle of some sort.

Looking down out of the window, she could see the stone wall dropping vertically to the 
edge of a rocky cliff.

Below it, waves crashed against black rocks which jutted out of the sea like teeth.

She heard the door rattle behind her. She turned around.

The door opened. A man stood framed in the doorway. He wore tight black pants, and was
bare from the waist up.

His head was covered with a sinister leather half-mask.

He said suavely, “Allow me to be the first to welcome you to our humble little 
establishment. I am Kharg.”

Glenda said haltingly, “Where—where am I?” Her mouth and throat were parched from 
lack of water, and it was painful to speak.

Kharg said, “You are at the Fortress.”

“What?”

“The Fortress of Charenton.”

Glenda felt sick to her stomach. Over the years, she had heard the sinister rumors about a 
secret society of all-powerful masters, a group that called itself, simply, Charenton.

She had thought it was another unreal figment of the imagination—something to be 
classed along with flying saucers, abominable snowmen, and the Loch Ness monster.

Unfortunately, however, it was painfully obvious that Charenton was real—all too real.

Glenda asked, “You… are a member of Charenton?”

“A member, yes. And you are a slave of Charenton.”

“What are you going to do to me?”

“Anything I want.”

“What have you done with my daughter, Rhonda?”

“You’ll see soon enough,” Kharg said.

He held a pair of manacles connected by a length of chain. He said, “Hold out your hands.”

Glenda kept her hands at her sides.

Kharg said, “You’re being very stupid. Don’t forget, we not only have you, but we have 
your lovely daughter as well. Now—your hands, please.”

Glenda glumly held out her hands in front of her. Kharg placed the heavy iron manacles 
on her wrists, and locked them shut.

He said, “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“There’s an amusing little demonstration that I want you to see. After you’ve witnessed it, 
you’ll understand what this place is all about.”

Glenda looked down at her nudity. “Don’t I get any clothes?”

Kharg laughed with real amusement. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

He escorted Glenda out of the cell, and down and through the branching stone corridors. 
The ancient stones were covered with slime in spots.

Glenda shivered. Goose bumps raised up on her flesh. As she walked, the links of her chain
rattled away in a tinkling counterpoint.

They came to a door at the end of the hall. Kharg lifted the massive iron knocker on it, and
pounded it against the door.

A small square panel opened up near the top of a door. A pair of beady eyes peered out 
suspiciously. “Yes?”

“It’s Kharg, with one of the new slaves.”

The panel slid shut. The door rattled as a bar was thrown. It swung open.

Kharg pushed Glenda inside.

It was a large room, with a high, rounded ceiling. Torches were placed in iron holders 
along the walls. At the opposite end of the room was a barred window.

Glenda clutched her belly. She felt sick to her stomach as she saw the various devices 
scattered around the room.

It was a torture chamber.

All the classic instruments of torture were scattered around the room. There were fetters 
and chains hanging from the walls and ceilings.

There was the rack, the boot, and an Iron Maiden. A brazier full of hot coals stood on an 
iron tripod in the center of the floor.

There was a variety of other devices for the infliction of screaming pain. Glenda felt totally 
unnerved. She wanted to throw up.

Some of the devices had sinister stains on them. They weren’t from rust. They were blood.

She heard a moan from overhead, and looked up.

Hanging from the ceiling on a chain was an iron cage. Crouched inside the cage was a 
naked brunette woman.

“Tie cage was made of iron bars. It was so constructed as to be too small for the captive 
inside to stand up, and not wide enough for the captive to sit down.

The brunette inside was bound and gagged. Her eyes were wide with total terror. Her 
strong thighs trembled from the strain of crouching down on them for so long.

The man who had admitted Kharg and Glenda into the room chuckled evilly. He was a 
hideous being.

He was almost dwarfish in shape. His shoulders and arms were enormous, while his legs 
were thin and spindly and stunted.

His arms were’ so long that his knuckles practically brushed against the floor. His head sat 
on his shoulders like a huge melon.

He wore a pair of skin-tight, striped pants. Like Kharg, he was bare from the waist up. His 
chest was matted with thick red hair.

His legs may have been weak and stunted, but Nature had made up for that lack by 
granting him an unnaturally large endowment.

His cock was thick and long and clearly visible against his pants. It was incredibly large, 
and wasn’t even erect yet.

Looking upward at the naked captive in the cage, he said, “Getting impatient, Bettina? 
Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you in a moment.”

He rubbed his hands in anticipation. He turned and faced Kharg and Glenda. He stared 
long and hard at Glenda.

Finally he said, “Hmmm, they’re taking in some older women now, eh? That’s a switch. The 
masters usually like the young girls better.”

He reached down and squeezed his cock. “Now me, I like a more mature slave for a 
change of pace. They’re fleshier and more well padded, like this one is.”

He reached out and grabbed Glenda’s breasts. Glenda could smell his hot breath. It was 
foul. She shuddered and turned her head.

The apelike man said, “Don’t like me too well, do ye? Well, the Dungeon Master is used to 
that. I’m not the prettiest creature that ever walked this earth. But I’ve had many a young 
beauty get down on her knees and beg me to fuck her—after I’ve softened her up a bit.”

The Dungeon Master gestured at the implements of torture .crowding the chamber. His 
implications were obvious.

He pinched Glenda’s nipple, the one that had been cut by Jase’s whip. Glenda turned 
white and broke out in a cold sweat from the pain.

The Dungeon Master said, “Yes, sir, I like those big-titted older slaves. Did you bring her 
down here to pleasure your old comrade and mentor, Kharg?”

Kharg said, “Actually, the Archons want her to see what you’re going to do to Bettina. But 
after that, you can do whatever you like to this bitch.”

“Whatever I like, eh?” the Dungeon Master said.

“But nothing fatal,” Kharg added quickly.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that, laddy.”

“I don’t—but she might.”

The Dungeon Master thrust his hand between Glenda’s creamy white thighs. His hand was 
rough and gnarled and calloused.

His hard, stubby fingers with their yellow, cracked nails prodded the soft lips of Glenda’s 
pussy.

“Anything I like,” he mused. “That sounds promising. But first, there’s a little matter I have 
to attend to with Bettina.”

Kharg took Glenda to one side of the chamber, and sat her down on a rough wooden 
bench. The hard planks chafed against her plump bottom.

The Dungeon Master turned a winch on the wall. With a creaking groan of metal, and a 
rattling of chains, the cage began to descend from the ceiling.

Bettina looked more terrified than ever.

Kharg said, “Bettina was a pleasure slut, a slave who was too clever for her own good. She 
tried to use her body to lure one of the guards into helping her escape from the Fortress.”

He gestured at the caged girl. “You can see where all her plans and schemes brought her.”

The floor of the cage bumped down against the chamber’s stone floor. The Dungeon 
Master unlocked the cage, and pulled Bettina out.

The girl collapsed on the floor. She lay on her side. Her frightened eyes looked up in mute 
appeal at Kharg and Glenda.

The Dungeon Master picked up a long, sharply pointed needle with a teardrop-shaped 
handle. It was similar to the needles used by physicians to practice the ancient Eastern art of 
acupuncture.

But the Dungeon Master didn’t intend to use it for healing purposes. He jabbed Bettina in 
the buttocks with the needle point.

He said, “Get up, damn you.” He said it calmly, without anger.

Bettina tried to rise. The Dungeon Master lifted her to her feet. The poor girl had been in 
the cage for so long that she couldn’t stand up straight.

She crouched forward, bending from the waist like an old woman.

“Bettina was a very naughty slave,” the Dungeon Master crooned with obscene delight. 
“And naughty slaves must be punished most severely.”

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Now, what punishment will fit the crime most suitably?”

He looked around the chamber. “Shall I use the boot? Shall I fit your lovely little feet into 
the boot, and tighten the clamps until all the bones in your feet are pulped jelly?”

“No, I think not. What about the rack, Bettina? Shall I place you on the rack? It’s quite 
thrilling, the sounds that the bones make as they’re being pulled out of the sockets.”

He stuck his leering face close to hers. “You know what the sound of breaking bones is like,
my pretty one? It sounds just like a crisp stalk of celery being snapped in two.”

Bettina groaned from behind her gag. The Dungeon Master scratched the top of his 
pointed head.

He pondered, “This is quite a puzzle, to find a punishment that’s fitting to you, you foolish 
child.”

Suddenly, inspiration struck him. He clapped his hands in delight. “Eureka! I have found it! 
I know the perfect instrument to use on you—the Sheer!”

Bettina’s eyes rolled up in her head so that only the whites showed. She fainted dead 
away.

The Dungeon Master said, “Give me a hand with this bitch, Kharg.”

“As you command,” Kharg answered.

The Dungeon Master carried a bizarre torture device over to where Bettina’s lovely, 
unconscious body lay slumped on the floor.

The Sheer consisted of a hinged metal box equipped with various straps and handles and 
clamps.

The Dungeon Master set the Sheer on the floor, and opened the hinged metal halves.

The interior of the device was shaped like a woman. There was a narrow section for the 
waist, and a wider section for the hips and thighs.

Running up through the center of the box was a gleaming metal saw, with razor sharp 
teeth.

Glenda was revolted by the sinister purpose of the device—a purpose which was ah too 
horribly apparent as Kharg and the Dungeon Master secured Bettina inside the box.

The Dungeon Master put his massive hands under Bettina’s arms, and effortlessly lifted her
clear of the floor.

Kharg fit the device on her. He aligned the narrow hollow with the girl’s waist, and the 
wider one with her hips.

Running through the box was a metal rod with a handle at one end. The rod was covered 
with dozens of tiny metal spikes.

Now that the box was being attached to Bettina, the rod ran right between her legs.

Rising vertically along the center of the box was the metal saw. Now it was positioned 
against the front of Bettina’s torso, and ran from her crotch to her collarbone.

The girl’s eyelids fluttered as Kharg closed the rear shell of the device on her back. He shut
the box so that its metal edges were touching, and he bolted them securely shut.

Bettina was wide awake now. The pain of the spiked rod between her legs, and the metal 
saw against her front, was already quite excruciating.

She struggled helplessly as the Dungeon Master slipped a rawhide harness around her 
neck and shoulders. This helped keep the device firmly in place.

Bettina was in mortal terror. Yellow drops leaked out of the bottom of the box, through 
the spaces where the leg openings were.

More yellow fluid dripped out, and spattered on the stone floor. Kharg got some of it on 
him, and cursed violently.

<<< IMAGE 07 >>>

He cried, “The cunt is pissing on herself!”

The Dungeon Master threw back his head and howled with mirth. His belly quivered like a 
bowl of jelly.

“Don’t let it bother you, laddy,” he roared, “to my way of thinking, you’re long overdue for 
a bath anyway!”

Kharg failed to see the humor in the situation. He raged and stormed and swore furious 
oaths.

The Dungeon Master said, “Calm yourself, you hot-headed young devil. Here, if it will 
make you feel any better, you can turn the crank yourself!”

“It’ll be a pleasure,” Kharg said grimly.

He took hold of the handle, and turned it slowly in a counter-clockwise direction.

The spiked rod between Bettina’s legs rotated. Each tiny spike tore the tender flesh of her 
thighs and her nakedly vulnerable pink pussy.

Bettina screamed raggedly from behind her gag.

As the rod turned, a small flywheel attached to it caused the metal saw to press more 
tightly against Bettina’s front.

Veins stood out on the girl’s forehead, and her eyes popped like a frog’s.

“Tight enough, my bitch?” Kharg grunted. “Perhaps a few more turns of the screw will 
teach you to better control your bodily functions!”

“Take off the gag,” the Dungeon Master said mildly. “I love to listen to them scream.”

Kharg yanked the gag off Bettina’s mouth.

Her helpless, hopeless screams echoed against the stone walls of the chamber.

Kharg continued to turn the rod. The metal spikes clawed savage gashes in the girl’s soft 
thighs and pussy flesh.

The saw drew ever tighter against her. The pitiless razor teeth pressed against her flesh in 
a score of places.

Bettina gave a final shriek of agony, then mercifully passed out.

The liquid dripping out of the bottom of the box was red—blood red.

Kharg and the Dungeon Master lowered the girl to the floor. The Dungeon Master said, 
“Don’t bother to turn the screw anymore. She can’t feel it.”

“I’ll wake her up,” Kharg said.

He pulled down his pants, and took out his cock. He gripped it behind the cock head with 
his thumb and forefinger.

Holding it like a fire hose, he urinated on Bettina’s face.

The Dungeon Master became indignant.

“What the devil are you doing, laddy? This is a fine mess you’ve created here! Who’s going
to clean it up, that’s what I’d like to know!”

Bettina gasped and sputtered as she returned to the nightmarish reality of being awake.

Kharg put his hand on the back of her head and pushed her face into a puddle of urine.

He said, “You’re not getting out of the Sheer until you lick up every last drop, you whore!”

“Well,” the Dungeon Master said, “that’s better. Just so long as I don’t have to clean it up.” 
Kharg went over to Glenda. He still held his cock in his hands. “Get on your fucking knees, 
slave!”

After the horror that she had witnessed, Glenda didn’t have to be told twice. Her knees 
made hollow knocking sounds, so quickly did she drop down on the stones.

Kharg waved his member in her upturned face. “You can start your servitude by licking my 
cock clean!”

Glenda opened her mouth wide, and took his member inside it. She closed her lips and 
pressed them against the base of his shaft.

The influence of her hot, wet mouth caused Kharg’s member to grow hard and long. It 
uncoiled and stiffened in her mouth.

In a matter of seconds, his cock had tripled its length. The broad, swollen head of it 
rubbed against the back of Glenda’s throat.

Kharg said, “As long as you’re down there, you can keep on sucking until I come.”

Glenda bobbed her head back and forth. Her tongue wrapped around the torturer’s 
throbbing shaft. Saliva dribbled out of the corners of her mouth, wetting her chin.

Kharg thrust his cock back and forth in her mouth. He loved to watch his enlarged shaft 
force its way between Glenda’s puffy lips, and disappear inside her mouth.

It didn’t take long for him to shoot his load in her mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut and 
shivered with satisfaction as the orgasm whiplashed through him.

Glenda swallowed practically all of his come. She gulped it hurriedly, trying to swallow it so
that as little as possible would get on her tongue.

Off to one side of the room, Bettina pushed her weeping face against the hard stones of 
the floor. Her tongue scraped against the stones, slurping up the fluid.

Kharg said to Glenda, “Learn from the example of Bettina. Once a slave enters the Fortress,
the only way out—is death! Abandon all hope, you who enter here!”





CHAPTER EIGHT


After a while, Kharg and the Dungeon Master undid the bolts and opened the hinges of the 
metal box that was the Sheer.

They pulled it off Bettina. Her face was contorted from the terrible pain she had suffered. 
She made low, whimpering sounds.

A bright red gash ran straight up the middle of her torso, from the tops of her breasts to 
the lips of her pussy.

Her white inner thighs were stained with red. She lay on her side, hugging herself, 
moaning.

Two white-coated orderlies came from Doctor Gladstone’s infirmary. They were burly 
thugs who toted a stretcher between them. The stretcher was covered with a rubber sheet. 
The orderlies set the stretcher on the floor, picked up Bettina by her arms and legs, and put 
her on the stretcher.

They covered her from the neck down with the rubber sheet. They gripped the poles, and 
lifted the stretcher into the air.

The Dungeon Master said, ‘Tell the good doctor to sew her up right. She’s young and 
strong, and there’s plenty of good fucking left in that pussy of hers.”

One of the orderlies licked his lips and said, “Yeah.”

As they carried Bettina out of the torture chamber, Kharg called after them, “And don’t 
make any unscheduled stops along the way to fuck her!”

The orderly called back, “What do you think we are, anyway?”

“I know what you are. That’s why I’m telling you not to fuck her, you pussy hounds!”

“Okay, okay,” the orderly grumbled. “Don’t get yourself in an uproar.”

They trudged off down the hall.

Kharg and the Dungeon Master turned to face Glenda, who was cowering in a corner of 
the floor, hoping that she wouldn’t be noticed.

The Dungeon Master said, “What’ll we do about her?”

Kharg said, “As long as we’ve got her down here, why don’t we pierce her? It’ll have to be 
done anyway, and if we do it now, we won’t have to worry about doing it later.”

“Good idea,” the Dungeon Master said.

He and Kharg picked up Glenda and carried her to a leather-covered table. They pushed 
Glenda face down on it.

The table was short. Her upper body hung free over one edge, and her legs hung off the 
opposite edge, so that her feet touched ground.

Kharg forced her to lie down with her arms along her sides. Then he pulled a canvas 
restraining strap across her broad back.

He pulled the strap tight, so tight that it cut into Glenda’s flesh. He clipped the free end of 
it into a buckle on the other side of the table.

He secured her with two more straps, making three in all. One ran across her shoulders, 
one ran across the middle of her back, and the other went over the small of her back, right 
over the small of her buttocks.

Glenda’s huge breasts dangled freely off the table edge. The Dungeon Master took hold of
one of her nipples, and viciously pinched it.

He said, “This ought to be easy, lad. She’s got big, fat nipples.”

“And a big, fat ass, too,” Kharg pointed out.

“A tender target.”

“A tasty target.”

“Shall we begin?”

“Let’s.”

Glenda’s voice was weak and rasping as she asked, “What are you going to do to me?”

Kharg said, “We’ll have to gag her.”

“Definitely,” the Dungeon Master said.

He went to the wall and took a gag off the rack. It was a bizarre gag with a leather-covered
penis attached to a complicated arrangement of straps.

Glenda opened her mouth when Kharg told her to. After seeing what had happened to 
Bettina, Glenda was too terrified to resist in any way.

She hoped that if she was as submissive as possible, and willingly and enthusiastically 
carried out every command she was given, no matter how degrading or humiliating it was, she
would be able to save herself from torture.

It was a good plan—in theory.

Kharg stuffed the penis gag into her mouth. It was hard and rigid, and filled her tightly. He
buckled the straps behind her head, holding the gag rigidly in place.

Kharg said, “As long as we’ve plugged up one of her holes, why not attend to the others as
well?”

“That’s good thinking, lad,” the Dungeon Master said approvingly. “I like the way you 
think.”

“Thanks,” Kharg said, genuinely touched by the compliment.

“You’ve got a real future in this business, Kharg,” the Dungeon Master said as he went to 
get further implements of humiliation.

The Dungeon Master stuffed a thick rubber dildo into Glenda’s pussy. The dildo was over 
ten inches long, and the apish man shoved it into Glenda as far as it would go.

She moaned through her gag. Her plump buttocks jiggled as she writhed. Beads of cold 
sweat burst out on her forehead.

Next came the butt plug. It, too, was shaped like a cock. Kharg parted Glenda’s quivering 
buttocks while the Dungeon Master shoved the plug into Glenda’s anus.

Although Glenda had always been quite sexually active with the opposite sex, she had 
never cared for being fucked in her bottom, and had only consented to do it on rare 
occasions.

As a result, she was hardly stretched out at all. The butt plug prodded her tight-ringed 
anus, forced its way past her gripping sphincter muscle, and was planted deep in her creamy 
anus.

Now that all three of her holes were fully plugged, the Dungeon Master became expansive
and talkative.

He said, “You’re probably wondering what’s going to happen next, eh, slave? Well, I’ll tell 
you. I’m going to pierce your nipples and stick golden rings in them. Then, I’m going to slap 
my brand on your ass. Some fun, huh?”

“It will be—for us,” Kharg added.

Glenda forgot her plan to submit to whatever was required of her. She was overcome with 
fear at the idea of what was going to happen.

Kharg took a branding iron, and used it to stir up the hot red coals glowing in the brazier. 
He blew on them to make them glow even hotter.

He buried the branding iron in the coals.

Meanwhile, the Dungeon Master wheeled a device in front of Glenda. It was similar to a 
breast stock, except that it had a crank which could adjust the pressure of the clamping edges.

Like the examining table in Doctor Gladstone’s office, this leather-covered table was 
divided into three separate sections.

The Dungeon Master cranked up the first section, raising up Glenda’s upper body. He 
wheeled the breast clamp close to her.

Taking hold of her large breasts, the Dungeon Master pushed them between the twin 
sections of the clamping device.

The dual sections were like a pair of square plates joined together by a large screw. The 
Dungeon Master cranked the handle.

The clamping plates slowly moved toward each other, squeezing Glenda’s breasts as they 
did so.

She groaned from the painful pressure. Her breasts turned milk-white as the plates 
clamped down on them tightly.

Her large nipples expanded under the pressure. Kharg and the Dungeon Master pinched 
and teased them until they were throbbingly erect.

The Dungeon Master took a slender golden ring. It had the diameter of a silver dollar. A 
tiny catch caused it to open or close.

He opened it. The two sections each had glittering needle points. As Glenda watched in 
horror, the Dungeon Master pressed the needle against her swollen nipple.

Glenda had had her ears pierced, so she could wear stylish ear rings. It hurt, of course, but 
the pain was not unbearable.

A nipple, however, is much more sensitive than an ear lobe. Even with the penis gag 
stuffed into her mouth, Glenda’s shriek of pain was quite audible as the Dungeon Master 
deliberately pushed the needle right through her nipple.

Kharg put the other gold ring through her second nipple. That hurt even worse, if possible.

Glenda’s shoulders heaved with weeping. Tears rolled out of her eyes and splashed on the 
leather-covered table.

“Hell, that’s not so bad,” the Dungeon Master said. “If you think that’s painful, wait until 
you have your clitoris pierced and fitted with a gold ring!”

“Wait until you get branded,” Kharg grinned. “Just wait.”

“Come to think of it,” the Dungeon Master said, “that iron ought to be good and hot. Get 
it for me, will you, lad?”

Kharg took the branding iron out of the brazier. He blew the gray ashes off the brand. The 
metal glowed a bright red-orange.

Kharg said, “Shall I do the honors, or would you care to do it?”

“Be my guest,” the Dungeon Master said.

Before Glenda even knew what was happening, Kharg pressed the branding iron against 
the underside of her left buttock.

There was the sound of sizzling flesh. Then came the awful, terrible pain. The last thing 
that Glenda knew when she fainted was the sickening odor of burnt flesh—her flesh—filling 
her nostrils.

When she recovered consciousness, Kharg was taking the penis gag out of her mouth.

There was a constant, burning, searing ache in her left buttock. It pulsed and throbbed. 
Each pulse brought fresh tears to her eyes.

She heard Kharg saying, “You know, as long as we’ve got her tied down like this, we might 
as well take advantage of the situation.”

“A capital idea,” the Dungeon Master said. “My sentiments exactly.”

“Let’s switch places, if you don’t mind. I’ve already come in her mouth.”

“I don’t mind.”

Kharg and the Dungeon Master switched their positions. The Dungeon Master stood by 
her face, and Kharg stood by her ass.

The Dungeon Master took down his pants. His cock was long and knobbed, and had a 
number of hairy warts on the shaft.

He rubbed his member against Glenda’s face until it was thick and hard. He finished the 
job of unbuckling the penis gag that Kharg had started.

Glenda’s jaws ached. The penis gag dripped with her gleaming saliva. When it was 
removed from her mouth, Glenda moaned from deep in the pit of her stomach.

Before she could moan again, the Dungeon Master silenced her with a gag of his own.

It was a gag of flesh. He shoved his cock into her mouth. He grunted, “Suck it well, my 
big-titted bitch, or I promise you that you’ll really find out what this chamber of horrors can 
do to a screaming victim!”

His threat cut like a knife through the haze of pain that clouded her mind. Glenda slurped 
and sucked at his knobbed shaft.

Behind her, she felt Kharg pulling the dildo out of her pussy. There was a liquid sucking 
sound as the rubber phallus was removed from her cunt.

Kharg, like Nature, abhorred a vacuum, and he didn’t allow Glenda’s pussy to go unfilled 
for too long.

His cock head rubbed against her pussy lips. He guided his hot shaft between them, and 
buried his member deep in her, Kharg rocked back and forth. Every time his hips slapped 
against her buttocks, agonizing waves of pain shot through her—the result of his rubbing 
against the fresh-seared brand.

Whenever Kharg wanted her to shake and send her into a frenzy, he would pinch the 
brand.

The Dungeon Master came first. He didn’t want to come in her mouth. At the moment of 
orgasm, he took his cock out from between her lips, and spurted his load into her face.

A few minutes after that, Glenda was rocked by Kharg jamming his member into her so 
that the head of it knocked against the mouth of her womb.

A split-second later, his semen jetted against the irritated membranes of her pussy.

After they had re-captured their breath, and recovered from the shuddering excitement of 
their orgasms, Kharg and the Dungeon Master released Glenda from the leather-covered 
table. Semen dripped down Glenda’s face.

A pair of gleaming golden rings protruded from her nipples.

Kharg prodded her brand with his finger, and laughed at her gasp of pain. Glenda looked 
over her shoulder, and saw the burned imprint of a tiny C seared into her flesh.

Kharg grinned. “That’s C—for Charenton. You are property now, bitch.”

But the sadistic duo weren’t through with Glenda yet.

The Dungeon Master looped his finger through the nipple ring and tugged it. Glenda cried
out, and rose on tiptoes to minimize the pain.

“Come along, my cunt,” he said cheerfully.

It had grown late in the afternoon, and the dinner hour was fast approaching. Kharg and 
the Dungeon Master had put in a full day’s work, and they were looking forward to mealtime.

Before they left for the dining hall, they had to put Glenda in painful restraint.

They dragged the unresisting woman to a far corner of the chamber. Glenda quaked with 
terror when she saw what they had planned next for her.

She saw a sinister, sadistic, diabolical device.

It was divided into two parts—a saw-toothed floor stand, and a spiked vertical column.

Kharg and the Dungeon Master took off her manacles, and forced her to straddle the 
saw-toothed stand.

They laughed at Glenda’s hysterical, weeping pleas and cries. She stared down in horror at 
the razor teeth of the stand.

She screamed and screamed again as they pushed her down. They placed her so that the 
saw teeth were right against the middle of her crotch.

The vicious razor teeth ripped into her pussy and anus. This was the worst that she had 
been forced to endure.

Glenda screamed herself hoarse. Kharg and the Dungeon Master secured her hands with 
iron manacles which were bolted to the faces of the saw.

They weren’t through with her yet. Standing next to the metal stand was a waist-high 
cylindrical column. It was about a foot in diameter. Its entire surface bristled with needle-like 
metal nails.

Inserted through the cylinder near its top was a thin but strong metal rod. Kharg and the 
Dungeon Master lifted Glenda, and placed the backs of her knees against the thin, horizontal 
rod.

She wept with relief. Now, most of her body weight was supported by her legs, removing 
the terrible pressure of the saw teeth against her pussy and anus.

At either end of the thin rod were metal eye bolts. Kharg tied lengths of wire to both bolts.
Then, he pulled the wires tight, and tied their other ends to the rings in Glenda’s nipples.

Glenda soon discovered that if she raised herself on her hands, and arched her back, she 
could ease the fearful pressure on her nipples, and keep her crotch from contacting the 
saw-toothed metal stand.

It promised to be a very difficult undertaking. She hadn’t been lifting herself for more than
sixty seconds when her arms began to ache and quiver from the strain.

As a final, crowning touch, the Dungeon Master slipped an opaque rubber hood over her 
face. There was a tiny triangular hole cut through it for her nose, but otherwise it was solid.

<<< IMAGE 08 >>>

Glenda lowered herself down to give her aching arms and hands and shoulders a second’s 
rest. But as soon as she did so, the saw teeth cut into her pussy lips and anus, and the wires 
pulled tight against the golden rings in her nipples.

She raised herself up again. The spikes on the cylinder ripped into her thighs and calves. It 
hurt so much that she trembled.

The trembling merely increased the pain of her nipples and pressed her pussy against the 
saw.

She heard the Dungeon Master say to her, “We’re going to dinner now, but we wanted to 
make sure that you’d be occupied while we were away.”

Kharg added, “But you can console yourself with the thought that we won’t be gone for 
too long. We should be back in an hour or so.”

The Dungeon Master said, “I’ll be counting the minutes until I see you again, you big-titted
whore.”

“She’ll be counting them even harder,” Kharg laughed.

They left the torture chamber, and went to dinner.





CHAPTER NINE


It was midnight. Despite the lateness of the hour, things were busier than ever.

Kharg had enjoyed tormenting Glenda, but it was nothing compared to the thrill that he 
got from torturing Rhonda. , Rhonda felt like she was losing her mind. She wished that she 
would lose her mind. Anything was better than enduring this nightmarish existence!

In the last forty-eight hours, she had been kidnapped, flown out of the United States, and 
taken by boat to the Fortress.

Since she had been imprisoned in the Fortress, she had been cruelly used, and even more 
cruelly abused.

She had been raped. Raped again and again by a squad of leering men and sadistic 
women.

Her pussy had been fucked, of course. It had had so many cocks and dildos stuffed into it 
that now it throbbed with a steady ache.

But being fucked in her pussy was blandly normal in this house of Hell.

Men had raped her mouth. She had sworn to herself that no matter what her captors did 
to her, she wouldn’t suck them off.

After they began hurting her, she was tearfully begging them for’ the privilege of sucking 
their hot, hard, thrusting cocks.

They came in her mouth and made her swallow it. They pushed their semen-dripping 
genitals in her face, and made her lick their cocks and balls clean.

They had violated her virgin ass.

Rhonda had never been fucked in the ass before. Never. Given her choice, she would never
have done it, not for a million dollars.

She thought that it was disgusting. Unfortunately for her, the masters of the Fortress didn’t
share her prejudices.

That hideous Doctor Gladstone had been the first to violate her behind. He gave her a 
three-quart enema. The nozzle he used must have been over seven inches long, and was as 
thick in diameter as a fifty-cent piece.

He had shoved it into her anus. He filled her up with the enema solution. The cramps were 
awful!

She begged to be allowed to go to the bathroom, but the doctor had jammed a butt plug 
inside her. Rhonda hadn’t even dreamed such devices existed.

Not until she had eaten the pussy of Nurse Doris, and sucked off the doctor so that he 
came in her mouth, was she permitted to empty her aching bowels.

But it was Kharg who had taken her anal virginity with his cock.

The only lubricant he used was some of his saliva rubbed on the head of his member. He 
had stuffed the cock head into her behind, splitting her no-longer-virginal anus.

It felt like a broomstick was being thrust into her ass. Rhonda screamed’ and screamed 
again as Kharg buried his shaft in her hot, unbelievably tight anus.

He had shot his filthy come inside her ass. Even after he had pulled out of her, she had felt 
it dripping out of her tom anal ring. It mixed with a thin trickle of blood that oozed out of her.

Kharg was the worst—a master sadist. She had been brought to him only an hour ago. 
Although she had had her ass deflowered the previous night, it still throbbed with pain.

Now, as the midnight bell chimed twelve times in the depths of the Fortress, Kharg 
prepared the next vicious torment he would inflict on Rhonda.

Kharg was naked. Well, almost naked.

Complaining of the sultry tropical heat, he had stripped off his trousers and now slunk 
around the torture chamber in the nude.

The only item of clothing that Kharg wore was his leather half-mask. The reflected 
highlights of the flickering torchlight shimmered on the shiny black leather.

Rhonda was naked, too.

The only thing she wore was the length of rope which tightly bound her wrists behind her 
back.

They were the only occupants of the torture chamber. The Dungeon Master had yawningly
retired to his bed chamber over an hour ago.

Rhonda smacked her lips, trying uselessly to clear the oily taste of Kharg’s semen off her 
tongue.

After she had been brought to him tonight, he forced her to her knees, and raped her 
red-lipped mouth with his cock.

<<< IMAGE 09 >>>

He took her by the arm and led her across the chamber. He stood in back of her, and 
pressed his groin against her buttocks as she walked.

Kharg said, “There’s something very special planned for you, my pretty one. Very special 
indeed.”

“Planned?” Rhonda asked. “By whom?”

“You’ll find out,” he chuckled. He put his hands on her smooth shoulders and pulled her to
a halt.

“Well, here we are,” he said. “I can’t wait to see you try this one on for size!”

He gestured toward a device sitting on the stone floor.

Rhonda screamed.

It was a waist-high metal box. It was shaped like a trapezoid. The top of it was shaped into 
a pair of parallel edges which were sharp and gleaming and saw-toothed.

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

Rising from the center of the metal box was a dildo. It was no ordinary dildo—that would 
have been too mundane in this Fortress of Torture.

The dildo was long and thick and fat. The head of it was rounded and bullet-shaped. The 
shaft and head were covered with gleaming black latex.

Most sinister of all, the shaft below the cock head bristled with tiny metal spikes. Spikes 
which were as sharp and pointed as thorns—glittering steel thorns.

Kharg said, “Why, this was positively made for you, my dear. Why don’t you take it for a 
test drive?”

“No!” Rhonda babblingly begged, “‘Please, please, don’t do this to me! Please! Fuck my 
mouth, my ass, my pussy, anything, but don’t do this to me!”

Kharg shrugged. His smile was quirked and whimsical.

Rhonda screamed, “In the name of God, don’t put me on that thing! No, please!”

Kharg stifled the girl’s screams by slapping a piece of adhesive tape over her mouth. 
Rhonda’s eyes bulged with fear.

Kharg lifted her leg so that she stood on one foot over the spiked dildo. Rhonda struggled
helplessly, making soft moans of terror.

Kharg lowered her down on the dildo head. The rounded bullet-head pushed aside her 
pussy lips as she sank down on it.

Kharg let her leg drop. Now Rhonda straddled the device. The dildo head was deeply and 
securely lodged inside her pussy.

Rhonda found that if she rose on tiptoes and stayed there, then she wouldn’t sink any 
lower on the dildo.

The steel thorns on the latex-covered shaft scratched and tore her soft inner thighs, but as 
yet had not touched her pussy lips.

Kharg flipped on a toggle switch which was located on a panel on the side of the box. The 
device began to hum with a low drone of electric power.

In the manner of a showroom salesman demonstrating a new car to a potential customer, 
Kharg said suavely, “You’ll find that this model has got all the latest options. Why, it’s fully 
automated!”

He turned a dial on the panel one notch to the right. An electric motor inside the box was 
attached to the pole on which the dildo was fastened As Kharg turned the dial, the dildo 
began to vibrate. Rhonda shivered as she felt the dildo pulsing inside her pussy.

Kharg turned the dial another notch to the right. Now, the dildo began to rise and fall in 
steady cycles.

It was a fully automated fucking machine. The dildo rose and fell with mechanical 
precision. It never dropped so low that the head of it worked free from Rhonda’s cunt.

The muscles of her legs were tautly outlined from the strain of standing on her toes only.

Rhonda lowered herself on the balls of her feet in an attempt to relieve the awful strain.

What resulted was even worse. When she sank down, the steel thorns below the cock head
gouged into the tender flesh of her inner thighs.

Rhonda quickly rose on her toes. She was like a ballerina on point. The dildo continued its 
slow rise and fall with mindless mechanical exactitude.

Rhonda’s nubile young body dripped with sweat. Her nostrils widened as she sucked in air.
Her breasts heaved and trembled.

The steel thorns were just a scant half-inch below her achingly vulnerable pussy lips.

There was a soft, liquid slapping sound, the sound of the dildo head throbbing against the
slippery pink membranes of Rhonda’s pussy.

Kharg was having a hell of a good time. He threw back his head and howled with genuine 
mirth.

He debated with himself whether he should go and wake up the Dungeon Master so he 
could watch this most stimulating of shows.

Regretfully, he decided against it. While the Dungeon Master loved a good laugh as well 
as anyone else, he particularly resented being roused from a sound sleep.

The click-clack of booted footsteps on the stones behind him caused Kharg to turn 
around.

A woman stood outlined in the doorframe. She was tall, and the six-inch stiletto heels of 
her thigh-high boots made her even more commanding.

She wore a black leather micro-skirt. Her full breasts were supported by bizarre, pointed 
silver cones, similar to the breastplates that the Valkyries, those warrior maidens of Norse 
myth, wore.

Each breast was stuffed into a silver cone. They were joined together at the center by a link
of chain. Thin silver chains were attached to the tops of the cups, and served as shoulder 
straps.

The woman’s hair was piled high on her head. In the position in which she was standing, a 
black bar of shadow fell across her head, concealing it.

She laughed a silvery little laugh of amusement at Rhonda’s desperate plight.

Kharg crossed the chamber and went to her. As he approached her, he could see her face 
in the light.

This was the newest member of the Archons. Kharg placed his clenched fist over his heart 
in a sign of loyalty.

He bowed low, and pressed his forehead against the cold stones of the floor.

Lydia Norden said softly, “You may rise, Kharg.”

Kharg rose to his feet. He kept his head slightly bowed, as a token of respect. As the 
assistant torturer in the Fortress, second only to the Dungeon Master in the infliction of pain, 
Kharg had much power in the Society.

But, compared to the exalted status which Lydia now held, he was the merest human 
insect.

He knew that if he should displease her for some reason, a simple command from her 
would be all that it would take to have him victimized on his own instruments of torture.

Kharg didn’t know how a virtual stranger could have risen so quickly to the highest ranks 
of the Society.

The whispered rumors said that she was the favorite mistress not only of Xavier H. Huntley,
but also of Roberta Cabot as well.

Kharg didn’t know if that was true or not, and he wasn’t particularly motivated to find out. 
It wasn’t very healthy, or very smart, to make too many inquiries about the upper echelons of 
Charenton.

Lydia said, “You have created a most amusing tableau, Kharg. Most ingenious.”

“Thank you, my lady,” he said humbly.

“It will be even more amusing when we bring the girl’s mother here,” Lydia said.

She smiled. It was a humorless smile, as cold and lacking in warmth as the metal cones 
which cupped her breasts.





CHAPTER TEN


Lydia exited the torture chamber. She walked down a long and winding corridor. Her 
high-heeled boots clicked rhythmically on the stones.

Everything was working out perfectly. The Charenton Society had managed to bring 
Lydia’s worst enemy, Glenda Macklin, and her bitch daughter, Rhonda, almost two thousand 
miles to the Fortress.

The months she had spent as the lowest suffering slave in Cuda’s whorehouse had warped
Lydia’s mind. Now she thought only of one thing—revenge!

She turned the corner, and came to a pair of doors. Using the key which the Archons had 
granted her—a key which opened every door in the Fortress—Lydia unlocked the door on the 
left, and stepped inside.

One of the walls had a glass viewport. It was made from a specially treated two-way glass. 
While Lydia could see through it into the next room, the people on the other side of the glass 
would only see their images reflected in a mirror.

Positioned with its lens facing the two-way glass was a video camera. This allowed pictures
to be filmed of whatever action was going on in the next room.

It looked like there was some rugged action taking place in there at that very moment. 
Lydia leaned forward to get a better look.

Glenda hung on the wall.

Jase was torturing her.

Glenda was nude. She was restrained in a cruciform position on the wall. Her arms hung 
straight out from her side. Iron bands were fastened around her biceps. They pinned her to 
the wall.

Glenda’s body was raised so that her feet dangled above the floor. Under her feet were a 
pair of vertical spikes.

The spikes pressed against the balls of her feet. As long as Glenda took up the weight of 
her body on her arms, the points of the spikes barely grazed the bottoms of her feet.

But when the excruciating tension caused Glenda to sag at the shoulders for even the 
slightest second, the entire weight of her body went down on her feet, causing the spikes to 
jab into her flesh.

The soles of her feet, and the points of the spikes, were bloody.

Meanwhile, Jase was doing what he could to make things worse for her. He held a length 
of rope with a hook attached to one end of it.

The hook was made of iron, and sickle-shaped. An eyebolt in the base of it served as a 
place for the rope to be tied.

Jase passed the hook between Glenda’s trembling legs. She opened her mouth in a moan 
of fear.

Jase passed the hook right against her crotch. The wicked point of the hook pressed 
against the dimple at the top of the crack in her buttocks.

The iron hook parted the fleshy folds of her cunt, and chafed against the tender pink 
membranes.

The hook’s rope was attached to a system of pulleys. Jase snugged the rope tight, so that 
the hook was pulled tight against Glenda’s pussy.

<<< IMAGE 10 >>>

Then he pulled the rope tighter… much tighter. He pulled it tighter still.

Glenda screamed.

Lydia laughed. She wished that she knew how to operate the video camera. She’d love to 
film Glenda screaming in agony, and run the film again and again for her viewing pleasure.

Well, the masquerade was just about over. It was time for Lydia to reveal to Glenda just 
who it was who was responsible for plucking her and her daughter out of their lives of 
normality, and having them suffer the tortures of the damned in a modern-day house of Hell!

Lydia exited the room with the two-way mirror. She went into the hall, and unlocked the 
door to the adjacent room.

She couldn’t keep from smiling.

She opened the door. The room was soundproofed, so now for the first time during this 
punishment session, she was able to enjoy the delightful music of Glenda’s screams.

Of course, all along Lydia had watched the tortures and degradations of Glenda and 
Rhonda. She had observed them from similar spying rooms.

Watching Glenda and Rhonda in agony was so much fun!

In the room, Glenda was begging Jase,. “Please, let me down! Please! My feet—my feet 
hurt so much! No! No! Don’t pull on the rope! The hook is cutting into me! You’re killing me!”

“I hardly think so, Aunt Glenda,” Lydia said coolly. “You’re a strong, healthy woman. You 
can stand much more than this. I did, when I was in that filthy hole you put me in.”

“You!” Total madness erupted on Glenda’s face when she recognized Lydia. “No, it can’t be!
It just can’t be!”

“But it is,” Lydia said.

Glenda screamed louder than she had since she entered the Fortress. Then she fainted.

When she woke up, she was lying on the floor of the torture chamber.

She groaned and raised herself up. She had the feeling that she hadn’t been unconscious 
for very long.

She rubbed her bleary eyes. She felt confused and weak-willed. It was hard for her to 
arrange her thoughts in any kind of coherent order.

Then she heard Lydia say, “Ah, so you’re awake, Aunt Glenda. Welcome to my little 
midnight party So glad you could make it.”

Instant awareness returned to Glenda the moment that she heard Lydia’s voice. She 
whirled around angrily to confront her.

Lydia sat on a wooden throne. It had a high wooden back which was topped with a pair of 
polished human skulls.

Glenda said, “I should have killed you when I had the chance!”

“You should have,” Lydia agreed. “Then you wouldn’t have to be chastised for such 
insolence. Kharg, if you would be so kind…” Kharg slashed a cat-o’-nine-tails across Glenda’s 
wide hips. Nine separate leather thongs left nine vicious cuts on Glenda’s white flesh.

Glenda screamed and raised her hands to protect herself. Kharg brought the whip down 
again and again.

He whipped her back, her breasts, and her buttocks.

Lydia said, “That’s enough for now, Kharg.”

Glenda moaned in agony. Her body was decorated with fresh red stripes.

Lydia said, “I’m so glad to see you again, Aunt Glenda. Especially after all the kind things 
you’ve done for me.”

Her voice dripped with sarcasm. She continued, “That was a really marvelous 
post-graduate education you arranged for me to receive from Cuda and his playmates. I don’t
know how I’ll ever pay you back in return—but I have the rest of your life to think of a fitting 
way. The rest of your life—and your daughter’s.”

Glenda gasped, “What have you done to Rhonda, you monster?! I can understand why 
you’re doing this to me, but why make her suffer?”

“The sins of the mother shall fall on the daughter,” Lydia said.

“But Rhonda’s innocent!”

“So was I—before you sold my ass to Cuda,” Lydia said. ‘.‘Leash her, Kharg.” Kharg 
fastened a thin gold chain to the rings in Glenda’s nipples. The chain was short, and pulled the
nipples painfully.

Then, Kharg attached a much longer chain to the first one. This was over fifteen feet in 
length.

He handed the free end of the long chain to Lydia. Lydia wrapped it once around her hand.

She said, “I’ll do more than tell you what’s being done to Rhonda. I’ll take you to her, so 
you can see for yourself.”

Glenda started forward eagerly. Lydia pulled on the chain. As it exerted pressure against 
the rings in the older woman’s nipples, she gasped in pain.

“Slow down, Aunt Glenda,” Lydia said. “You’ve got to walk at the pace which I set for you, 
or I’ll pull those pretty rings right out of your nipples, and then you’ll have to be pierced all 
over again… only the next time it will be in your clitoris, or your labia.”

“Come to think of it, I don’t want you to walk. I want you to crawl. Yes, crawl, my dear aunt,
like the tail-wagging bitch in heat that you are.”

Glenda had no choice. She hung her head in shame as she dropped down to her hands 
and knees.

“Yes, that’s better,” Lydia said. “Much, much better.”

She herded Glenda into the next room. Glenda screamed when she saw what had been 
done to Rhonda.

Rhonda was still being penetrated by the spiked dildo, but a new twist had been added.

A strong pole had been thrust between her back and her arms. The pole was tied to her 
elbows, so that it was securely held.

Attached to the pole was a length of chain. The chain dangled down from a wheel in the 
ceiling.

Rhonda hung suspended on the pole. It put a fearful strain on the joints of her arms.

She was hanging at such a height that only the head of the automated dildo penetrated 
her. It thrust rapidly back and forth in her pussy Rhonda’s thighs and legs were bloody from 
the previous time that she had spent on the punishment machine.

Before, she had been standing on her toes, and every time that she lowered herself, the 
steel thorns on the dildo shaft ripped her flesh.

Now, the situation was a bit different. As long as Rhonda was able to hold her legs wide 
apart, she would escape being ravaged by the steel thorns.

But, the moment that she couldn’t hold them open any longer, the spikes would tear into 
her flesh.

Rhonda recognized Glenda. She screamed, “Help me, Mommy! Do something! Please help 
me! Please!”

Glenda sobbed. She begged Lydia, “Let her down from there, please! Please, Lydia, don’t 
torture her!”

Lydia said, “Only you can help end her torment, Aunt Glenda.”

“How? Tell me what it is, and I’ll do it! Anything! Anything!”

“Well,” Lydia said, “you can start by kissing my ass.”

Lydia turned around so that her back faced Glenda. She reached behind her, and raised 
her micro-skirt above her waist.

She was naked underneath it. The cheeks of her ass were pale white and shining and 
butter-soft.

Lydia said, “Go ahead, Auntie, give me a great big kiss!”

Glenda swallowed her pride and brushed her lips against Lydia’s bottom.

Lydia said, “That’s not very enthusiastic, Glenda, darling. You’ll have to do much better 
than that before I let Rhonda down.”.

“Mommy, please!” Rhonda screeched. “For God’s sake, do whatever she say!”

Lydia grabbed Glenda’s hair, and pulled her face into her bottom. “Lick it, Glenda. Lick my 
crack. Kiss me right between the cheeks.”

Glenda’s broad tongue licked the cleft of Lydia’s buttocks. She pressed her lips against 
Lydia’s puckered anus.

“That’s right,” Lydia said. “Now stick your tongue deep inside me, and lick the inside of my 
ass. Do it!”

Lydia grinned as Glenda thrust her wide tongue into Lydia’s brown-ringed anus. Lydia 
wriggled her hips as Glenda’s tongue penetrated deep into her.


THE END
