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For Caroline Martin—her face streaked with tears—the nightmare continued. The pretty auburn-haired debutante, dressed in a skimpy maid's uniform, found herself thrown face down over the arm of a leather chair. Her silken panties were in tatters around her ankles—her skirt and apron pulled up above her waist leaving her delectable ass totally exposed and vulnerable. As the Countess, seated comfortably on a divan, watched—her face blissful with excitement—Jason Vanwell, prepared to satisfy his long-smoldering lust on his struggling victim.
These events were transpiring in an ancient fortress called Ben-Abar located in the remote Atlas Mountains of northern Morocco. The old fort had been converted into a luxurious estate for its owner, the Countess of Messina, one of the richest women in all of Europe. In addition to being her residence, however, the estate served another function, as well. It was the headquarters of “Rio 9", a mysterious and secretive organization known to only a select few. The organization had a special purpose, one almost unimaginable in today's society.
The mission of Rio 9 was quiet simple. Working on a substantial commission basis, the organization would abduct beautiful and innocent young women and through a brutal and intensive training program, mold them into totally submissive sexual slaves. At completion of this training program, these poor women were delivered to their new masters—extremely wealthy, discriminating, individuals located throughout the world— individuals with a taste for the unusual....
It was in these circumstances that Caroline Martin found herself. Just a little over a month ago the young, 20-year-old English heiress was the toast of the London aristocracy. Her escapades filled the pages of the Fleet Street tabloids and her haughty beauty was captured repeatedly in the photos that accompanied the news articles. She was a stunningly beautiful young woman whose physical charms had attracted the attention of many of London's most eligible and interesting men. Born to great wealth, however, Caroline was a pampered, spoiled brat who had shocked and scandalized polite society with her petulant behavior. More than one of her suitors had found himself publicly humiliated by her outrageous antics.
One man who had suffered this treatment was Sir Basil Rothberg, a wealthy, middle-aged industrialist who found himself totally infatuated with Caroline's beauty. His attempts to win her favor had, however, all been disdainfully rejected by her. Worse than that, he had, one evening, been slapped on the face by her after he innocently placed his hand on her knee in a cab while arriving at the theater. The entire embarrassing episode had been captured on film and the humiliating photos printed in the morning tabloids.
A quiet, seething rage burned inside Sir Basil. At a party, after perhaps a few too many drinks, he happened to vent his anger to a friend. This conversation was overheard by a beautiful woman named Lady Fiona Savage who called Sir Basil the following morning. After arranging a meeting, Lady Fiona outlined a way in which he could satisfy his anger and obtain a measure of satisfaction and revenge for the treatment he had been subjected to by Caroline Martin. She told him about “Rio 9”.
Openly skeptical at first, Sir Basil had eventually been persuaded by Lady Fiona. Her proposal had captured his imagination.
For £30,000, a not inconsiderable sum even for a wealthy man like Sir Basil, Caroline Martin could be his. Not just as a companion, but as a totally submissive slave subject to whatever punishment, use, or abuse he chose to inflict upon her. The thought of the haughty auburn-haired beauty, stripped naked, humiliated,—the most secret and intimate parts of her young body exposed and available for his pleasure—inflamed his lust. In short order, he readily agreed to Lady Fiona's proposal.
A few weeks after making the first part of the payment, Sir Basil read with glee in the morning paper the news he had been waiting for. Caroline Martin had vanished mysteriously in a boating accident and was presumed drowned! Sir Basil knew the real reason and knew that Caroline had begun a long journey—one which would eventually bring her to him. The anticipation of that day nearly drove him mad!
Caroline Martin had, indeed, begun a journey, one beyond anything she could ever have imagined. She had awakened from the injection she had received at the time of her capture in the splendidly furnished parlor of the fortress. Secured by her wrists to a chair, she listened in disbelief as the Countess coolly explained what was in store for her. She was then introduced to her trainer, Jason Vanwell, the handsome, silver-haired man who would be responsible for her training and who she would soon come to know in the most intimate of ways.
For the spoiled and haughty young woman, the first order she received—to strip naked before Jason and the Countess—was beyond comprehension. Once released from her bonds, she made a foolish and futile attempt to flee. Quickly and easily overpowered by Jason, she soon found her ass stripped naked and felt the sting of a willow switch against the creamy smooth cheeks of her bottom. It was her first lesson in the price of disobedience. It wouldn't be her last....
She presently found herself submissively standing naked in front of her two captors—arms clasped behind her neck, legs spread widely apart. Her eyes were filled with tears of shame as she felt their eyes roaming over every inch of her exposed feminine charms.
That night, she had been taken to her cell, tied up, and locked in the Cage of Silver—an ingeniously cruel metal device which fitted tightly around her head and which included a studded steel ball which was painfully locked into her mouth. She shuttered with revulsion as she helplessly felt Jason's hands playing freely over her naked body—squeezing her lovely breasts and nipples, pulling the cheeks of her ass apart to tease and probe her tightly clenched asshole, forcing the lips of her pussy apart to stroke the sensitive bud of her clit and twist his fingers deep inside the moist recesses of her cunt.
In the next few weeks her training had progressed. She had repeatedly felt the sting of the lash on her sensitive buttocks and titties whenever she disobeyed her new master. She had come to learn the subtle nuances of pain caused by a willow switch, a whalebone, or a leather cat.
Slowly she had learned her new role—each lesson a painful experience. Jason had taught her how to sit— her arms clasped behind her neck, legs spread widely apart so that her sex was always prominently displayed for her master's view. He had taught the well-bred young woman to refer to the secret feminine parts of her anatomy in the crudest and most vulgar terms possible. She had repeatedly been stroked, probed, and fondled in the most intimate, degrading, and demeaning ways imaginable.
Jason had also begun to teach her how to give a man pleasure. Under his stern guidance she had learned how to use her hands to play with his huge cock and balls. She had been forced to manipulate her titties to bring him off—his huge cock shooting sticky streams of cum over her tear-streaked face. After being subjected to such agonizing punishments as having a tampon soaked in heated cologne water thrust up her asshole, he had painfully taught her to use her mouth to suck his cock. It had been a particularly difficult task for the well-bred young woman to learn—especially the repugnant task of swallowing Jason's copious semen.
Informed of the girl's reluctance to perform this most basic duty, the Countess was compelled to order sterner measures—Jason was instructed to prepare Caroline for a particularly painful lesson. The following morning, Caroline Martin would be viscously whipped by the Countess directly on her pretty little cunt. To make it even more humiliating and painful, the dark-haired mistress ordered that the girl's pubic hair be completely shaved so that her plump, pink pussy would be that much more visible and that much more vulnerable. She was then led to her cell to contemplate what awaited her in the morning.
That night, when Jason came to her cell to check on her, she had pleaded with him to intercede with the Countess so that she might be spared this punishment. Jason informed her that he might be persuaded to speak to the Countess on her behalf on the condition that she agree to perform one particularly degrading act for him. He ordered her to perform “feuille de rose” or what is vulgarly referred to as “a trip around the world”.
The thought of the once-arrogant Caroline Martin on her knees behind him, her beautiful face—damp with tears—pressed between the cheeks of his ass, working her moist tongue deep into the hidden, fetid recesses of his bunghole, was especially exciting. Totally defeated, but desperate to be spared the threatened punishment, the girl had tearfully complied.
Before he left her for the night, he added to her degradation by ordering her to lie on her back, spread her legs apart, and masturbate for him. It greatly amused him to compel the debased young woman to frig herself off like a schoolgirl, while he stood by watching her perform this most private and intimate exercise.
The next morning, Jason informed the disbelieving Caroline that the Countess was firm in her position and the punishment was to be carried out as ordered. He led the struggling girl to the Punishment Room and secured her to the straddling bars. The position left her totally open and exposed. Her bare pussy lips and the puckered bud of her anus were defenseless against the assault of the wicked cat-o'-nine-tails which the Countess, dressed only in a black leather corset, eagerly prepared to administer. With sadistic glee, the dark-haired Countess straddled the girl's face and delivered her punishment on her struggling, screaming, victim.
Repeatedly, Caroline felt the bite of the cruel leather whip on her most intimate private parts. Repeatedly, she passed out from the pain, only to be brought back to consciousness by Jason, who stood by with smelling salts, watching the spectacle with unfettered lust—his cock rock-hard with excitement.
When the ordeal was over, the exhausted girl was carried back to her cell. So brutal had her treatment been, that it was several days before she could progress on to the next level of her training. Each day, however, she had been forced to endure the indignity of having to feel the lewd touch of Jason Vanwell's fingers as he applied a healing lotion to those sensitive, tortured, parts of her feminine anatomy that had born the full brunt of the Countess' fury.
In the days that she had been a captive at Ben-Abar, Caroline Martin had learned much. She had quickly learned the painful price of disobedience and had seen her sexual horizons forcibly expanded in a dramatic manner. At the Countess' command, Jason had refrained from consummating his mastery of Caroline's charming pussy and asshole. Instead, he had contented himself with lesser degradations—such as his repeated, lascivious, manipulations of the most private parts of her feminine anatomy, or by forcing her to use her titties, hands, or delectable mouth to give him the satisfaction he demanded. Certainly the sight of the sophisticated young lady of society being made to shamelessly abase herself at his command had been wickedly rewarding. Equally satiating to the true sadist he was had been the experience of watching her suffer under the cruel torment he and the Countess had subjected her to. His stern tutelage had begun to instill in the once-haughty debutante a properly servile attitude—a servility molded by constant degradation and discipline. And despite the perversity of the treatment she had been subjected to, Jason was skillfully able to pull from the girl erotic responses that further shamed and degraded her.
The next phase of her training was aimed at preparing her further for the erotic demands that would be placed upon her once her training was complete.
One morning, Caroline awoke with a start to find the Countess seated beside her in her chamber. Her heart began to race with fear at this unexpected visit. Quietly, but firmly, the Countess had outlined an amusing scenario that Caroline would be forced to enact. The dark-haired mistress explained what was expected of her and what would befall her if she disobeyed in the slightest. Caroline was to play the role of a newly-hired chambermaid for a wealthy couple and was to present herself for her first inspection with her new “employers”.
And so, dressed in an alluring black satin maid's uniform with a starched white apron— her fawn-colored tresses tied back in a girlish ponytail, Caroline had stood timidly before the divan on which the Countess and Jason were seated.
“What do you think of her, my dear Jason?” the Countess inquired pleasantly.
“Very good... yes, very good, indeed. I must confess I find myself quite taken with her and am tempted to exercise my right as master over her at this very moment,” he replied.
“But what's stopping you? Indeed, I am most anxious as well to see the fetching little wench used in such a manner.”
Jason rose and advanced towards the trembling girl. Her uneasiness turned to panic as he boldly opened his trousers and brazenly extracted his manly weapon.
Slowly, Caroline backpedaled, her wide eyes fixed on his stiffening tool. “No.... oh, no... please... don't.... y... you can't... not that.... Please. Y... you haven't the right...”
Jason gave a bright smile. “Oh, I have the right, my pretty! I have the right,” he said mockingly. “I've wanted to bury this tasty morsel deep in your pretty little cunny for some time. Miss Caroline Martin, and that's just what I intend to do.”
“Oh, god.... no! Please, not that....”, Caroline pleaded as she watched Jason move towards her, his rock-hard cock bobbing menacingly—a drop of precum oozing obscenely out of it's head.
“It's time, my pretty.... It's time....”
On the divan, the Countess was laughing evilly as she watched the spectacle unfolding before her. One of her carefully manicured hands was beneath her skirt between her legs, her fingers caressing her mound adding to her sensual excitement as she eagerly anticipated what was about to happen. It was like seeing a cat play with a wounded mouse....
Suddenly, Jason leapt upon Caroline, grabbed her ponytail, and brutally yanked her towards him. She struggled like a madwoman—all of her previously learned submissiveness vanished in an instinctive struggle to escape this imminent violation. Her effort only served to rouse his passion even more as his physical strength easily overpowered her. He dragged to a leather armchair and flung her over one of its cushioned arms. Still she twisted and kicked, as he pushed her face into the cushion. Quickly, he yanked up her black satin skirt revealing her delectable bottom barely covered by the skimpiest, triangle of her white silken panties.
“Please.... no!”, she wailed.
“It's time,” he hissed gleefully as with one hand he pushed his struggling victim's head deeper into the cushion while with the other hand he brutally ripped and shredded the expensive silken garment that provided the girl's last shred of modesty. Soon the it was in tatters around her ankles.
With his knees, Jason pried Caroline's tightly clenched thighs widely apart. Caroline's vulva, shorn of its mane of fawn colored pubic hair, was clearly visible, the pale pink lips of her cunt spread apart ever so slightly—an alluring temptation for the furious rut of Jason Vanwell.
He ran the throbbing head of his shaft down the moist groove between those defenseless petals. Caroline shuddered in revulsion at the touch of his throbbing organ on the very portals of her womanhood....
One of Jason's powerful hands reached beneath the girl and gripped the bodice of her maid's outfit. With one brutal yank, he ripped the garment open. The lush globes of her breasts sprang into view. Jason's hand captured one of them in his hand. His fingers pinched the rock-hard nub of her nipple and gave it a brutally vicious twist. Caroline screamed....
Jason felt his lust surge as he listened to her frenzied cries and felt her struggling helplessly beneath him. He bent over his victim and whispered lewdly in her ear.
“Now, my little slut, now get ready to have your little cunt fucked within an inch of your life. Yes, Miss Caroline Martin, my cock will soon be deep inside your cunt, you haughty little whore....”
She shrieked back, “No.... please.... no.... don't.... I beg you, Please...!!!”
“I've wanted to do this since the day I first saw you. I've wanted to feel your dripping pussy caressing my manhood... to listen to you scream as I rape you again and again....”
Desperately Caroline squirmed beneath him, trying vainly to dislodge his pulsing member which had now lodged itself at the very mouth of her cunt.
He slapped her ass brutally with one hand leaving a huge red mark on her buttock. With his other hand he reached under her and again twisted her nipple as she screamed in agony.
“DON'T, PLEASE....!!!!!” she cried.
“Yes, Caroline, yes,” he hissed. “Go ahead and struggle. It makes it all that much more enjoyable or me, you little whore.”
He thrust forward, driving into her about halfway.
“NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!” she screamed.
“Is she tight, Jason?” the Countess asked.
“Oh, yes. She's tight, all right,” he answered. “But she won't be when I've finished with her.”
He drove into her to the hilt. An desperately anguished scream filled the room.
“There, Miss Caroline,” he hissed into her ear, “Do you like that? That what I've wanted to do since the day I first clapped eyes on you, my little whore.”
He sawed into her tight channel again and again.
Caroline's tear-streaked face was a mask of misery as she answered each of his brutal thrusts with an anguished cry of pain and humiliation. His fingers twisted into her silken auburn hair and yanked her head backwards so that the Countess could see every nuance of Caroline's degradation reflected on her pretty face.
The Countess was, indeed, enjoying the spectacle. Few things in life gave her as much pleasure or intense erotic delight as the sight of a lovely young woman, particularly a once-haughty one like Miss Caroline Martin, being brutally raped and totally debased at her command. Each sob—each moan of protest from her unwilling victim sent intense waves of erotic pleasure coursing through her belly. And, she knew, no man was better equipped to carry out such an assignment than her talented assistant, Jason Vanwell.
In her excitement at finally witnessing the ravishment of her fetching captive, the Countess had drawn her own skirt up to her waist and stripped off her panties. One high heel-clad foot was on a low foot stool with her other leg splayed widely apart—her darkly-fleeced pink gash totally exposed for both Jason and Caroline to see. Her hands were now between her legs—one hand squeezing and caressing her swollen, passion-engorged clit, while her other hand wetly pistoned three of her lovely manicured fingers deep into the gushing maw of her cunt.
Jason's pace quickened, as his long-deferred lust mounted inexorably. One of his hands reached around in front of the girl and began mauling her naked titties—his fingers squeezing and twisting the sensitive buds of her nipples—eliciting additional cries of pain from the tormented woman now delightfully impaled on his throbbing manhood. The creamy white globes were now marred with crimson marks and bruises— testimony to the vigor of his lascivious caresses.
“N... Nooooo! Nooooo!!! N... Noooooooooo!!!!!” the girl sobbed endlessly.
Jason's handsome but cruel face had taken on an almost animalistic mien as he continued his bestial ravishment of Miss Caroline Martin. He whispered an almost continuous litany of lewd obscenities into the sobbing girl's ear as be continued his brutal fucking of her tight cunt. He would stop his verbal assault of the auburn-haired beauty only to lustfully suckle and nip with his teeth one of the girl's sensitive earlobes or to painfully bite the satiny flesh of her beautifully sculpted neck. The entire expanse of her neck was soon marred with a tapestry of wet, red, marks.
The chamber echoed with the sounds of the brutal assault—Jason's passionate grunts as he thrust repeatedly into the girl delightfully tight quim—Caroline's answering cries of pain and humiliation—the Countess's gleeful laughter mixed with her own moans of mounting excitement at enjoyable scenario unfolding before her eyes. The wet sounds of cunts being probed filled the room—Caroline's probed by Jason's thrusting member and the Countess's by her own probing, hungry hand.
Jason drove deeper into the poor girl—both of his hands now brutally spreading Caroline's asscheeks until she felt almost as if she were literally being ripped apart. Deep in her vagina, the head of his rock-hard cock battered unmercifully the very matrix of the poor girl's womanhood. He felt himself nearing a tremendous orgasm as his thrusts became even deeper and more frenzied.
“Yes, oh yes.... Yes, my little whore, its time to feel my hot cum deep in your little cunny. YES! OH, YES!! OH GOD, YESSSS!!!!” he shouted, as his cock exploded deep within Caroline Martin's cunt—his hot seed shooting out to scald the mouth of her ravaged womb.
Jason's body stiffened as waves of indescribable pleasure coursed rhythmically through him—his face exhibiting an expression of pure lustful joy. A glistening sheen of sweat covered his virile body which—now satiated—had draped itself atop that of the girl sobbing beneath him. His slowly softening cock still oozed cum deep inside of the auburn-haired girl's cunt.
On the divan opposite them, the Countess, too, had enjoyed a tremendous orgasm as she had watched the rape and ravishment of Miss Caroline Martin. Her fingers, now coated with a thick glaze of her womanly juices, still lingered deep inside her still-pulsing vagina. A wicked smile was spread across her face...
The focus of their lustful desires—Miss Caroline Martin—lay sobbing over the edge of the sofa in total misery beneath the crushing weight of Jason Vanwell's sweat-soaked body. Her skimpy maid's costume now reduced to tattered rags. All of the defilement and degradation she had experienced while at the Fortress—all the shame and humiliation—paled in comparison to what she was feeling now. Tears were streaming endlessly down her cheeks and she was racked with sobs. Her body physically ached from the effects of the brutal assault. Her battered breasts were sore and tender, and her cunt—still pierced by Jason Vanwell's slowly deflating cock—was raw and bruised.
Even worse than the physical discomforts the girl was feeling as the result of the rape, however, was the impact the assault had upon her psyche. Engulfed in despair, Caroline was totally defeated....
The Countess spoke, “Well my dear Jason, was she worth the wait?”
Jason chuckled heartily and pulled out of Caroline's cunt. Strands of cum dangled from the tip of his cock to the battered mouth of her vagina. As he pulled away, he twisted his fingers into Caroline's hair and pushed her to her knees of the floor before him. He stepped before her so he could pull her head back and gaze into her red-rimmed eyes. She was trembling with shame and humiliation....
“Yes Countess. She was, indeed, worth the wait.
She has the makings of a first-rate whore. Of course, she will require a great deal of additional practice. Rest assured, I will be more than willing to provide her with that practice....”
The Countess laughed, “I'm sure you will, my friend.”
The Countess pulled her hand wetly from her sodden cunt, stood up, and walked to the kneeling girl. Her fingers were glistening with the aromatic honey her cunt had produced. She thrust her fingers into Caroline's mouth forcing the girl to taste the musky secretions from the cunt. Caroline's face grimaced in revulsion at the heady flavor.
The Countess continued, “Caroline has much to learn and I know you're just the man to teach her. You will have plenty of opportunity to do so, my friend....”
She pulled her fingers from Caroline's month and grasped the girl's chin and tilted her head back.
“Caroline, my dear, as unpleasant as I expect you found that to be, it was necessary step in your training. You need to learn, my child, that you no longer own your cunt. It now belongs to your Master—Jason while you are here at the Fortress, or your new owner when you are delivered to him. They have the right to enjoy your cunt at any time and in any way in which the choose. You no longer have any say in the matter. If your owner wishes to take you for his own enjoyment or give you to another man or group of men, that is now his right. Given your beauty, Caroline, I'm sure that they will often choose to make good use of all of your alluring feminine charms.”
Caroline was sobbing loudly now this new reality of her status entered her mind.
“A good slave willingly gives herself to her Master without reservation, Caroline. And that is what I now expect of you. Tomorrow morning Master Jason will come to your cell. You will kneel before him—naked, of course—and beg him to honor you by again fucking your delightfully tight cunt with his wonderful cock. I expect you to be convincing in your pleading with him to honor you in this manner. If you do not comply convincingly or exhibit any of the foolish protestations you just did, rest assured you will be made to pay a suitably painful price. Do you understand, my dear?”
Caroline sobbed and then, timidly, nodded her head.
She was a vision of submissive loveliness as she knelt before them in the tattered remnants of her maid's costume—her lush body totally exposed to their lustful gaze.
“Master Jason will now take you to your cell for the evening, but before he does so there is something I want you to do for him. His lovely cock is covered with your cunt juices and his cum. I want you to be a good little slut, Caroline, and suck it completely clean....”
Caroline sobbed again and then, in total despair, began the task....
After returning Caroline to her stark cell for the evening, I secured the still sobbing girl with her restraints. As is my habit, I also enjoyed my usual exercise of stroking, probing, and fondling the most intimate, secret, and private parts of the degraded beauty's anatomy. In spite of my recent and most satisfying first fuck of the fetching Miss Martin, I could easily have taken her again in an instant but, for the moment, I contented myself with these lesser violations.
“Sleep well, my beauty,” I said, as I left the room and switched off the light. “We have a busy day tomorrow. I trust you won't be so foolish as to forget the Countess' instructions when I return in the morning.”
I went for a brief stroll around the courtyard of the Fortress. It was a lovely night—the air cool and fragrant from the exquisite collection of exotic plants that filled the beautifully appointed grounds. A canopy of stars hung above me in breathtaking splendor. I smiled and thought again what a lucky man I am. To be here in this place, given the opportunity to do what I love most—this is what I was made for.
After about an hour, I went indoors and walked quietly down the corridor by Caroline's cell. I stopped and listened by her doorway. Inside, I could hear her still sobbing softly, drowned in her humiliation.
I stood outside her door for some time, listening as exhaustion overtook the girl and she drifted uneasily into sleep.
I quietly entered her room and sat beside, her watching her sleep. It was not, at first, a restful sleep. She tossed fitfully—her peace interrupted by dark dreams and visions. At times she struggled and cried out in her sleep, ”.... No.... please, Master.... nooo!”
I wondered if her nightmares were memories of the recent past or portents of things to come.
In time, a more restful peace overtook her. Her face relaxed, her breathing became slower and deeper. I looked at her lying there, curled up on her side, her undeniable feminine charms still visible. She was naked, of course, but somehow still appeared very innocent. This was not the arrogant young goddess who had captivated the attention of London society. This was merely a young girl who had been kept up past her bedtime.
Her face was that of an angel. A strand of her fawn-colored hair had fallen delicately over one still moist cheek. I sensed that she had found her peace, that—for the moment—in her dreams, she had escaped Ben-Abar....
I was on top of her in an instant, my body pinning her beneath me as she struggled into terrified wakefulness. My legs easily spread her thighs exposing the target my throbbing prick so eagerly sought. With one hand, I guided my weapon between the tender petals of her moist, desirable cunt. My other hand was knotted in her hair, holding her head down as she desperately sought to escape my assault.
With one brutal thrust, I drove into her to the hilt, as an anguished scream filled the ancient corridors of the Fortress Ben-Abar. Her warm, delightfully tight channel—still tender and sore from my earlier ravishment—yielded reluctantly to my plunging ramrod. While I plowed repeatedly into her cunt, her hands beat upon my back, as she sought to disengage me. She sobbed and screamed incoherently beneath me.
It was a particularly savage rape, made all the more so by the unexpected nature of it. I delighted in taking from her that last refuge—the thought that in her dreams, she could be free of us.
As I pistoned myself deep inside her satiny sheath, I felt myself start to cum. I looked at her anguished face beneath me, the tears streaming down her cheeks. As her pitiful cries filled the room, I erupted deep within her—my searing cum scalding against the very matrix of her womanhood.
I lay on top of her for a moment—my prick oozing the last drops of my cum deep within her cunt. I could feel her beneath me, her body heaving with sobs of despair. I finally pulled wetly out of her. My softening cock was coated with a sticky mixture of gism and her pussy juices. I walked to the head of her cot and stood by her, my cock just inches from her nose. I knew she couldn't help but inhale the wonderfully intoxicating fragrance of cunt and cum. I grasped a handful of her pretty auburn hair and wiped my cock clean with it.
“Sleep well, my pretty. I'll be back to see in just a little while.”
After a restful night's sleep, I returned to Caroline's cell, anxious to see how she would respond to the Countess's most recent edict. On entering her cell, I greeted her with a hearty cheerfulness that I knew she did not share.
“Good morning, Caroline. I trust you had a restful night.”
In truth, she looked pale and drawn. I knew that yesterday's activities and my nocturnal visit had taken their toll on her and brought her to new levels of despair. I loosened the chain that was attached to her collar and ordered her to get up. She stood unsteadily in front of me—her naked body trembling slightly.
“Before we see how willing you are to comply with the Countess' instructions, I want you to get cleaned up. I want you to look your prettiest for this activity.”
I led her to the bathroom which adjoined her cell. My eyes never left her as she went about her morning ablutions. As always, it was particularly delightful to watch her squat above the low Turkish toilet and relieve herself—her cheeks bright red with embarrassment as I made her perform this most private bodily function in front of me.
After making her bathe and attend to her makeup and hair, I led her back to my chambers and stretched out on my luxurious bed. My robe had fallen open revealing my cock which lay in a semi-flaccid state upon my thigh. I picked up a leather whip from the bed and held it in my hand.
“Well, Caroline, I believe the Countess has instructed you to perform a certain task. I'm waiting,” I said brusquely.
She stood there in the position she had been taught, her legs spread widely apart, her arms clasped behind her neck. I could see the tears welling up in her downcast eyes. Her lower lip was trembling slightly....
She spoke in a quiet tearful voice, almost a whisper. “P... Please, Master Jason, would you do me the honor of....” She hesitated, and sobbed almost unable to continue. “W.... Would you do me the honor of f... of fucking me.”
The last was almost inaudible. “What do you say?” I said mockingly.
“Please.... fuck me,” she said somewhat louder— her voice laden with shame.
“So, the little whore wants to be fucked? My, that's a different tune than the one you were singing when you first arrived, isn't it?”
I stroked my prick into rigid attention and continued to verbally taunt her.
“Is this what you want, slut? My big dick deep in your tight little twat?”
She was sobbing softly now the tears of shame pouring down her cheeks.
“Is it, cunt?” I said sharply.
“Y... Yes,” she said.
“What is you want, bitch?” I said slashing her cruelly across her tits with my whip.
“I...I WANT YOU TO FUCK MY CUNT!” she cried desperately.
“Good.” I said softly. “I suspected that's what you wanted all along. I'll be happy to grant you your wish.”
In order to make it a more interesting experience for both of us, I ordered her to turn around so I could quickly slip a pair of handcuffs on her wrists. I pulled off my robe and lay back on the bed, my prick pointed like an arrow at the ceiling.
“If you want it so badly, you'll have to work at it, my pretty,” I said. “Why don't we begin with you using that lovely mouth and tongue of yours to give my whang the attention it so richly deserves.”
Seeing the whip in my hand and knowing the price of disobedience, Caroline reluctantly crawled between my widely splayed legs. Because her arms were secured behind back, she moved very awkwardly. With great difficulty, she lowered her head to my manhood. Soon, I felt the soft sensation of her beautiful lips and tongue playing over my sensitive cock-flesh, bathing it with her saliva. It felt wonderful!
“My balls require some service, as well, bitch,” I ordered.
Somewhat clumsily she moved her head lower. Soon those tasty tidbits were soon also enjoying the delightful touch of her mouth and tongue.
After several delightful minutes of Caroline's enforced oral efforts, I drew my knees up to my chest and pulled my ass cheeks apart.
“I trust you know what I want now!” I said firmly.
She uttered a muffled sob of protest, but then slowly proceeded to move her mouth still lower. Soon the crinkled bud of my bunghole was being worshipped and lapped by the tongue of my lovely degraded victim. Feeling her work its velvety softness deep inside of my rectum was deliciously wicked.
Although I would have enjoyed having the pretty debutante continue her oral adoration of my eliminatory orifice all day, I was also anxious to move on other activities, and so reached down, grasped her hair and pulled her mouth back up to my cock. Her tear-soaked cheeks were flushed red with exertion from embarrassment and the strain of servicing me in this manner without the use of her hands. Her breathing was ragged.
Taking a measure of pity on the girl, I ran my throbbing member over her trembling lips. Slowly I parted those portals and worked the head of it into her lovely mouth. I reached down, grabbed her behind the ear, and forced her mouth deeper over my cock until it was lodged in the back of her throat. She started to choke at the force of my intrusion so I pulled her head back momentarily to give her a moment to catch here breath before I again thrust deep into her mouth.
“To the roots, my darling, to the roots!!!!!” I ordered, now fucking her face as vigorously as if it were a secondary pussy. Oral service of this nature had always been particularly degrading for the well-bred Miss Caroline, so I made certain to include a great deal of it in any session with her.
Feeling myself close to cumming and knowing that there were still other activities that I wanted to subject the beautiful auburn-haired girl to, I pushed her away from me. My cock glistened with her saliva and a single strand of pre-cum hung gracefully from its oozing head to her quivering parted lips.
It was time to move on to other things. I twisted my fingers in her hair and pulled her up until she straddled my cock. I teasingly ran the head of my stiff cock down the moist slit of her smooth, hairless, cunt.
“Is this where you want it, bitch?” I taunted.
“Y—Yes, Master, please!” she whimpered, her face a mask of humiliation.
“Where do you want it, my pretty?” I teased, moving my cock away from its target.
“In.... in my cunt, Master,” she sobbed in despair.
“All right, Caroline, if that's what you want. Go ahead, put it inside you.”
She sobbed, totally degraded. I watched as the humiliated beauty, with great difficult because of the restraints on her hands, awkwardly positioned her naked pussy over my manhood and slowly impaled herself on it. When I was deep inside her, I picked up the whip that lay beside me on the bed and, quiet unexpectedly, brought it smartly over her defenseless breasts.
“Now fuck me, bitch!”, I ordered.
Spurred on by the whip, Caroline began to move up and down my cock with surprising vigor. Her face was strained from the exertion of it and the sweat was running off of her. Her rhythmic thrusts caused her lovely titties to jiggle provocatively. Needing no further encouragement, I reached up and grabbed them. Caroline whimpered in torment as I roughly mauled her perfect breasts, my hands squeezing, pinching, and compressing the sensitive globes. With great glee, I twisted her nipples and pulled vigorously on them, eliciting hideous cries of anguish from the tormented beauty.
She continued to grind her pussy vigorously into my groin as she sought desperately to complete the degrading task she had been forced to perform. Sensing myself about to cum, I pushed her off of me and rolled her on to her back. Quickly, I climbed on top of her— my ass crushing her beautiful tormented breasts. My cock was just inches away from her tear-stained face. After just a few brief strokes, I erupted in a most satisfying climax with streams of sticky gism shooting out to land on poor Caroline's tormented facial features.
As the last spurt oozed out, I looked at the girl. Her face was coated with cum which covered her right eye, clung to her nose, and ran into her nostrils and parted lips. She looked particularly pathetic lying there....
I smiled at her. She was learning....
I received a call from Lady Fiona Savage inviting me to stop by her house one evening for a special surprise. Since I had first contracted with Fiona to make the necessary arrangements to have Caroline Martin abducted, trained, and brought to me, this mysterious and beautiful woman had been my sole source of information on the progress of Caroline's training and development.
I must confess, I had an almost insatiable appetite for news of what Caroline must be going through and of what the little vixen was being forced to endure. I dearly would have loved to be privy to that spectacle— to personally witness each degradation and humiliation inflicted upon the lovely Miss Martin. Unfortunately, I was informed, that was not a possibility. Nevertheless, hardly a minute of the day or night passed without me thinking and imagining what my soon-to-be-slave was experiencing.
I remember receiving a call from Lady Fiona not long after Caroline's “disappearance”. A coded telegraph cable had arrived informing Fiona that all was proceeding according to plan—that the capture had gone smoothly, she had arrived safely, and had already experience her first taste of the whip on her naked bottom! That thought inflamed my lust and the mental images of the haughty Caroline Martin being subjected to such treatment kept me aroused for days.
A subsequent cable informed me that her training was progressing as planned and that the naked Caroline Martin was being regularly whipped by both her trainers—the Countess and Jason—for the slightest indiscretion. The wickedness of that thought only added fuel to the already raging fires of my rut.
In my mind, I repeatedly ripped the clothing off of the little wench!
In my mind, I profaned her lush, perfect flesh again and again!
In my mind, she repeatedly tasted the sting of the lash wielded by my powerful hand on the most sensitive and intimate parts of her anatomy!
Fiona's call of this morning only served to whet my appetite for more knowledge of what Caroline was being put through. The hours today seemed to crawl by ever so slowly as I contemplated this evening's appointment with anxious anticipation. Finally, the hour was at hand and I arrived at my destination with absolute punctuality.
Lady Fiona's maid greeted me at the door and escorted me into her mistresses' parlor. It was as lovely room, elegantly furnished and appointed. I was seated on a comfortable divan and watched a cheerful fire crackling in the fireplace while I waited the appearance of Lady Fiona.
“Basil, my dear friend, how nice of you to come!” she called, entering the parlor.
Little did she imagine that the King's Guard itself couldn't have kept me away! Her maid entered with her and proceeded to pour me a glass of very fine scotch. She then left, locking the door behind her. We wouldn't be disturbed.
“I have a wonderful surprise for you, Basil. Do you happen to recall the film I showed you at of our second meeting? The one that showed that charming little shop-girl, Miss Jane Rayner, being introduced to some of the training methods at the Fortress?”
Indeed I did remember! That film, which had shown the lovely girl stripped, fondled, and whipped by her trainers at the Fortress Ben-Abar, had been a particularly powerful tool in persuading me of Lady Fiona's legitimacy and in convincing me that the treatment Caroline would receive at the Fortress would be just what I had in mind.
“I think you'll find this evening's film even more enjoyable. Would you care to see it?”
I could feel my heart begin to pound in my chest.
“I would dearly love to see it.” I said, my voice trembling ever so slightly with anticipation.
She pulled down a hidden screen, turned off the lights, and switched on the projector. She then sat next to me on the divan. The shadows danced on the wall as the film worked its way through the projector.
“I should tell you, my good Basil, that the Countess has instituted a policy of filming most of the training sessions of her charges. These films provide a wonderful record of the training program as well as providing an excellent training tool in themselves. You see, the young women in these films are often made to watch them and to mentally re-live the sessions. The knowledge that these films exist and that others are watching them being subjected to this degrading treatment only adds to their humiliation.”
On the screen the image of a room appeared. It looked positively medieval with its thick stone walls and floor. A heavy wooden door was visible off to one side of the image. I could not help but notice the iron rings set into various points on the walls and floors. I also noticed and abundant array of restraining devices, ropes and chains, and so on, as well as a large number or devices calculated to painfully persuade obedience in even the most recalcitrant of subjects.
“The room you are looking at is called the Room of Punishments, a room all of the women who find themselves at Ben-Abar learn quickly to try and avoid. I'm afraid your pretty little Caroline has been quite naughty and has herself earned a trip there. That is what we will be witnessing in this film.”
I saw the door swing open and saw a muscular, silver-haired man I recognized from the previous film as Jason Vanwell—the trainer—dragging a struggling woman into the room. It was Caroline! I could see the raw fear in her eyes. It aroused me tremendously....
Jason pulled her roughly to the center of the room and quickly snapped cuffs on her wrists. A chain was attached to the cuffs and, by way of a crank on the wall, Jason quickly tightened the slack on the chain until Caroline was barely standing on her tip toes, her arms stretched tightly above her head.
He was clad in a floor-length robe with a brocaded collar. Once he had finished attaching Caroline to the ceiling chain, he stepped in front of her, and abruptly pulled the garment off. As I expected, he was totally naked beneath it. Caroline tried to turn away to avoid the shameful sight of his muscular, rippling body, but the position of her arms made that impossible. When he started to circle around her, I was able to see his cock—a truly splendid weapon! It excited me tremendously to think of the arrogant Caroline Martin coming to know that cock on the most intimate of terms. My own cock had swollen to a prodigious length within my trousers as witnessed what was unfolding on the screen. I would truly have enjoyed the opportunity to liberate it and stroke it longingly as I watched the scene unfold.
“You may be somewhat surprised to see that Caroline is dressed. I trust you aren't too disappointed. I can assure you that she won't be for long. The Countess has, however, found it to be tremendously effective to allow her charges some degree of modesty during their captivity. It makes it that much more interesting when those modest coverings are forcibly removed, as you will soon witness.”
Jason stood behind Caroline, running his hands slowly over the girl's breasts which stood out boldly beneath the silken fabric of her straining blouse. Caroline's outfit consisted of an expensively-tailored silken blouse and a tasteful linen skirt. Heels and hose completed the elegant ensemble. I was again struck by her unmistakable beauty. Even as she was shuddering with revulsion at Jason's indecent fondling—tears streaming down her cheeks—her face retained its loveliness.
Damn the cost! I wanted the bitch!
Quite unexpectedly, I felt Fiona's hand on my lap. Brazenly she found my erection and began to stroke it sensuously.
“I see you are enjoying yourself, my dear Basil,” she cooed seductively. “Believe me, it will only become more interesting in a few moments. Would you permit the liberty of adding to your enjoyment?”
I am a true gentleman but what gentleman could refuse and offer like that? I readily agreed!
While the lovely Fiona Savage was eagerly freeing my throbbing member from the confines of my trousers, on the screen Jason was continuing his maddening exploration of the body of the auburn-haired beauty I longed for. One hand continued to lewdly fondle Caroline's lovely breast, while his other hand worked its way up beneath her skirt and gradually moved upward along the creamy smooth surface of her inner thigh. It was almost too much to bear, seeing Caroline Martin being fondled so lewdly. How envious I was of Jason!
His hand moved from her breast to the hem of her skirt and slowly lifted it to her waist. Her long, coltish, legs—clad in the their sheer hose— were fully visible. Her stocking were held up by a skimpy white garterbelt which marvelously framed the panty-covered mound of her womanhood. His other hand began to boldly caress this tiny triangle of white silk that barely concealed her most intimate feminine secrets.
He was behind her now, his naked body pressed close against hers. With a lascivious smile on his face, he whispered something to the sobbing girl. I saw her begin to shake her head violently in outrage, as she reacted to whatever he had told her he was going to do next.
Lady Fiona, meanwhile, had dropped to her knees between my legs and was hungrily licking my swollen weapon, while her other hand lovingly caressed my balls. The sensation was incredible!
Jason suddenly reached up to the bodice of Caroline's blouse and with one brutal yank, tore it open—its pearl buttons flying across the room. I could see Caroline screaming silently on the screen at the shock of his assault. Her dainty little brassiere—all frills and lace—merely served to accent the lovely perfection of her nearly naked breasts.
With equal vigor, he grasped the hem of her skirt and ripped it from her body. She stood there helplessly—her delicate little undergarments were all that protected her remaining modesty. These were the next targets of his violence. In a instant, these garments, too, were shredded and hung in tatters from her trembling body. I noted with satisfaction that Jason did not strip her completely naked. I correctly sensed that, by leaving her in the torn remnants of her garments, Caroline only felt that much more exposed and vulnerable. It only added to her considerable allure....
And alluring she was! There, before me on the flickering screen, was the object of my unbridled lust! How many sleepless nights had I imagined her like this—her breasts and pussy totally exposed to my leering view. How I longed to feel her struggle, naked in my arms as I took the liberties that I witnessed Jason Vanwell now freely taking from Miss Caroline Martin!
Jason pulled an interesting device from the rack on the wall. I determined that it was a spreader bar of some sort and I watched as he attached it to the ankles of the poor girl. It opened her up completely and because her legs were pulled so widely apart, her feet no longer reached the floor and her full weight was supported by her wrists. Her body slowly twisted as she dangled from the chain on the ceiling. She looked totally helpless!
The camera moved closer to the girl and slowly panned down her body. It was the first time I had been afforded the opportunity to view my Caroline in this intimate detail. Her breasts were perfectly rounded, firm—her nipples so inviting I would have paid dearly to be permitted to suck them at that moment. Her belly was smooth, the skin taunt from the strain of the position she in. Below, her cunt was magnificent! She had been shaved at the Countess' command so every detail of her satiny-smooth vulva was displayed to my view— the full pink lips, as well as the visible button of her clitoris.
As she dangled helplessly from the chain, her body rotated and Caroline's ass was the next vision my eyes beheld. It was an ass made for kissing and for fucking! I couldn't help but wonder what her reaction would be if see had known that the man she had once slapped for being so bold as to place his hand harmlessly on her knee, was now revelling in the sight of the exposed intimate vistas of her splendid body!
My member throbbed delightfully in Fiona's mouth as she eagerly fellated me, lathering its surface with her velvety tongue. It was only my superb self control that kept me from spending at the excitement caused by her skillful attentions and the images that danced on the screen before me.
Caroline's situation was growing more and more precarious, as I watched the scenario play out in front of me. I saw Jason return to Caroline with a cruel whip in his hand. Her eyes were wide with terror as he approached her and lightly ran the leather strands over her naked, defenseless breasts—teasing them—making them that much more sensitive for what was shortly to come. She was pleading with him, begging him to spare her....
He answered her by bringing the whip squarely across her breasts. Quickly he rained ten brutal lashes on her dancing globes as her body contorted in agony....
I felt myself nearing an orgasm—so excited was I by the unfolding spectacle and Fiona's oral stimulations. I was forced raise my charming hostesses' face off of my cock least I come too soon. She moved next to me on the divan, her arms wrapped around me, kissing my neck lustily. Boldly, she clasped one of my hands and moved it beneath her skirt to her pussy. I was pleasantly surprised to find that she had, at some point, slipped off her knickers and that her cunt was sopping wet! I could tell that she was as excited as I was by the images we were watching. Eagerly I thrust three fingers deep inside her anxious quim and pistoned them in and out as she moaned with delight. With her hand, she reached down and continued to massage my glistening cock....
Caroline's cunt too was receiving its share of attention, although I dare say it was not nearly as pleasant an experience as that which Fiona was enjoying. Jason had moved behind his pretty auburn-haired captive and was bringing his whip squarely up between her legs, scoring direct hits on the stretched-open targets of her cunt and asshole. Because of the way in which she was tied, she had no clue as to when a blow might land. She could only wait—helplessly—for her most sensitive flesh to feel the cruel bit of his whip. I could only imagine how much it must have hurt. I dearly wished I could have heard her screams....
Jason continued his vicious assault with abandon, his blows now landing on her back, belly and inner thighs, as well her pussy and breasts. Her creamy skin, unblemished at her arrival, was now crisscrossed with angry red welts. She had nearly passed out from the agony....
When the brutal whipping was over, Jason lowered the chain and permitted Caroline to collapse to her knees, her face crushed against the floor, as she sobbed pitifully. He reached down to roughly maul her well-whipped ass and yank her cheeks apart. The camera moved in closer and for the first time I could see revealed the tightly clenched bud of Caroline's asshole. I smiled with glee as Jason placed the thick knob of his whip handle against this puckered opening and roughly drove it deep inside her. I could see her scream in pain at this fresh violation. Jason left his whip hanging there like some sort of an obscene tail...
I moved Fiona's head back to my cock and she resumed her enthusiastic oral worship of my manhood. Jason, meanwhile stepped in front of Caroline, reached down, and with his fingers twisted in her pretty auburn-colored hair, pulled her head up until her lips found his swollen cock. Obediently, she opened her mouth and took his manly tool deep inside her oral cavity.
As Jason thrust roughly into the pretty face of his tortured victim, I echoed his actions in the hungry mouth of Lady Fiona Savage. Indeed, I matched him thrust for thrust as, in my mind, it was Caroline Martin's mouth that I was filling. When Jason began spurting his seed in poor Caroline's mouth, my own moans of orgasmic delight provided an audio accent to the silent cinematic climax.
The last image on the screen was of the face of Caroline Martin. She looked utterly crushed and in total despair. Her eyes were full of tears of pain and shame, and Jason Vanwell's gism was oozing out of the corners of her mouth. The film ended.
I looked down at the face of Lady Fiona Savage kneeling there between my thighs. Her eyes were ablaze with an intense excitement and her lovely mouth too was smeared with the evidence of a recent ejaculation—mine! She smiled up lustfully at me.
“Soon, Basil, soon the girl will be all yours....”
My time at the Fortress Ben-Abar had been an unceasing nightmare of shame and degradation. Each day seemed to arrive with fresh indignities which demeaned and debased me in ways I could hardly imagine. Only a woman can truly appreciate the shame and violation that have engulfed me since my arrival.
I have been subjected to unending abuse and punishment that has left me totally defeated. To be forced to stand naked before my captors.... to feel their hands touching and caressing the most private parts of my anatomy in the most obscene manner.... to helplessly be forced to submit to their cruelty.... how could this be happening to me? In all my life, nothing has prepared me for what I am being forced to endure.
I have quickly learned that any type of resistance is useless—that I will be quickly overpowered and made to yield to their will. There are times, however, when what I am being made to do is so repugnant and degrading that I futilely attempt to resist. My reward for such outbursts, I have learned, is only more and greater punishment and debasement.
Who could have imagined that I would be the victim of such horrible abuse? Perhaps the worst aspect of this treatment is, that in order to avoid being subjected to their painfully persuasive methods, I force myself to perform the degrading tasks they have outlined for me—I become a participant my own humiliation. And since much of their attention is focused on the most intimate and sensitive parts of my body, I sometimes am even made to experience, against my will, a perverse arousal which shames me to the quick.
I have come to know both Jason and the Countess and to fear each of them. Jason is, of course, a monster. Can you know how terrible it is to feel the sting of his whip on my naked flesh? To have him touching me indecently? To be made to satisfy him using my hands, mouth, breasts, and, most recently, my poor little cunny? How horribly he has used me for his filthy pleasures.... to feel his disgusting juices profaning the most private parts of my body is nearly beyond comprehension—to be made to lick and suck the most animalistic parts of his person....
If I dread any contact with Master Jason, however, in a sense, I fear the Countess more. I know that nothing happens here without her consent and approval. And while it is shameful to be abused at the hands of Master Jason, such experiences are made that much worse by the knowledge that she is there, watching every defilement, and smiling at my degradation. And, certainly on more than one occasion, I have been the direct recipient of her incredible cruelty.
It was, therefore, most unsettling when I was summoned to her chamber one recent afternoon. As Jason waited on the veranda outside her chamber, I knelt before her as she sat on the edge of her bed. I was naked, of course, my head on the ground, bottom elevated and pointed directly at her. She had ordered me to reach back and pull my bottom checks apart. You cannot begin to imagine the abysmal shame I felt to be in that position before her. It was only made worse when I felt her hands touching me down there. I shuttered with despair at her lascivious probing. Her hands—those of another woman knowledgeable of all the secret, sensitive places of the feminine anatomy— nearly drove me mad. Feeling her work one of her long fingers back there, up the tight channel of my bottom, made me want to die of shame....
While she continued her disgusting caressing of my most private parts, she spoke to me—her voice seemingly soothing, but, nevertheless, revealing her absolute mastery over me....
“Jason has given me a good report on your progress, my dear. He informs me that you have become adept at using you pretty mouth to suck his cock or lick his asshole. He also reports than you are rapidly becoming more proficient in the art of fucking, as well. Somehow I expected you would—that for all your silly protestations and false modesty, underneath you were a true whore. I am pleased with that and I must remember to reward Jason for your splendid progress. It brings us that much closer to the day we can deliver you to the hungry hands of the man who is eagerly waiting to become your new and ultimate master. Turn around, Caroline.”
I rose and turned till I was facing her....
“Until now Jason has been the focus of most of your training efforts. That is only natural since learning to please a man is absolutely necessary if you are to ultimately please your Master. There are, however, other activities to which you must be exposed before your training as a slave is complete. And, my dear, some of those activities do not involve men....”
She reached down beneath my chin and lifted up my head so she could look directly in my eyes.
“Have you ever made love to a woman, my dear?” she cooed.
I felt my stomach quiver with revulsion.
“N... no, Mistress,” I whispered weakly.
“Then perhaps its time that you are introduced to the mysteries of Sappho....”
With that, she raised up the hem of her skirt and lifted one of her legs onto to edge of the bed revealing the area between her thighs. She wore no undergarments! For someone brought up as modestly as I was, it was a shocking sight.
“Look at it, Caroline... look at what you will soon be kissing....”
I wanted to run from the room... surely any punishment or abuse Jason could inflict upon me would be preferable to this perversity....
“Do you like what you see, my pretty?”
In spite of my disgust and revulsion, I was, I must confess, strangely curious. Never had I had the opportunity to witness up close that part of a woman's anatomy. Like a moth attracted to the flame, I was drawn towards it....
“Come closer, my pet,” she whispered, pulling my head ever nearer.
“No.... Please...” I whimpered weakly....”
I was struck first by the profusion of dark, curly, pubic hair that covered her mound—so unlike my own slit now shaved smooth at her command. In this position I could see everything.... the meaty, thick, pink lips of her vulva—the erect button at the top of her slit—the mouth of her vagina, visible between the parted lips which glistened with her juices. Below I could see the dark, crinkled bud of her anus surrounded by a ring of thick, coarse hair.
“Don't be afraid, my dear,” she said, drawing me still closer.
I was almost hypnotized by the sight of it.... As I moved still nearer, I could smell her—a heady, musky mixture of perfume and other, more earthy, smells that seemed to permeate that region. My belly quivered uncertainly....
“Why don't you kiss it, my sweet?” she asked softly.
Suddenly, the spell was broken and the horror and depravity of the disgusting task she was asking me to perform hit me full force. I pulled away violently.
“NO!!!!” I screamed, “I can't.... Y... You can't make me do that....”
I threw myself on the ground, the tears flowing freely. I lay there sobbing in despair.
I heard her speak, coldly, “All right, my dear, have it your way. Since you persist in playing your silly little games, I shall have to take sterner measures. I find it difficult to believe that you would be so foolish not to realize that I will prevail in the end, but if you wish to have additional punishment inflicted upon you, that's your choice.”
I sensed I that would soon learn the extent of her fury. She summoned Jason who led me to another room in the fortress—a room I had not previously seen. It was a stark, cold, room covered on the walls and floors with gleaming white ceramic tiles. A variety of nozzles and faucets handles protruded from the wall. There were metal rings set into the walls at various points and I noticed a drains in the center of the floor. All of the metal work in the room had a shiny chrome-finish and there was a stainless steel cupboard in one corner of the room. I grew more frightened with each passing moment....
Jason tied me to the wall in a most unusual and uncomfortable position. I was forced to lay upside down on my shoulders and neck with my spine resting against the wall. He then attached cords to my ankles and pulled them forward in a wide “V”—attaching them to rings in the floor. The position left me totally open and vulnerable. A piece of adhesive tape was affixed to my lips sealing them shut. I could only grunt unintelligibly to convey my physical discomfort.
He bent down and kissed me boldly on the open mouth of my sex as I struggled futilely. “My poor Caroline,” he said, with mock compassion. “I would have thought that you would have learned by now not to deny the Countess. I almost feel sorry for you....”
I was left alone, trembling in fear at what might happen next. I did not have to wait long to find out what that might be. The door swung open and the Countess entered. The first thing I noticed as she moved towards me was her attire, or lack of it. She was now clad only in a pair of high leather boots and was otherwise nude. Even in my tied position I could not help but notice her striking beauty....
She walked towards me and stood above me. One of her hands reached down and boldly grasped my exposed slit—her fingers curling cruelly inside me.
“So.... the little slut is squeamish about satisfying another woman, is that it? My dear Caroline. I promise you that, by the time I am finished with you this afternoon, you will have learned to overcome whatever reservations you might have....”
Standing directly above me, I couldn't help but stare directly up to the dark recesses of her womanhood, surrounded by its mane of shiny, black, pubic hair.
As she continued to fondle me lewdly, she spoke. “Have you ever had an enema, Caroline? I'm sure than when you were a little girl your nanny may have administered one to you when you had a stomachache. I know mine did. I'm told that some people actually come to enjoy them. That was never the case for me. Perhaps it is for you.... It will be most interesting to see if you enjoy this one....”
She walked to the cupboard and opened it. Donning a pair of rubber surgical gloves, the first item she withdrew from it was a long flexible rubber tube with a thick hard rubber nozzle at one end. She attached the other end to a large, red-rubber bag.
“This should help it go in you easier, but I doubt if you will find it all that pleasant,” she said, smearing the surface of it with a shiny unguent.
Next, she took a large bucket and carried it to one of the faucets on the wall. After letting the water heat up until I could see steam rising from the faucet, she quickly filled the bucket. She then reached into the cupboard and took out a bottle which she emptied into the bucket and stirred the mixture with a wooden spoon.
“One of my dearest friends, a former doctor, gave me this special formula which should make this experience most unpleasant for you, my dear Caroline. I don't really know what is in it, but, when added to heated water and injected deep in one's bowels, it is designed to cause maximum cramping and pain. The times I've used it previously on stubborn girls like you, I've found it to be most persuasive.
I couldn't help but watch her, my breathing ragged through my taped lips, as she prepared the mixture and finished her preparations. My fear grew with each moment that passed....
Finally she came to me and hung the swollen bag from a hook in the ceiling above me. She then took the nozzle end, parted my buttocks, and twisted it into the tight channel of my anus.
Because of the unguent she had used, the tube entered me easily. In just an instant, I painfully discovered that it was coated with some sort of liniment which burned and seared the sensitive membranes of my rectum. It was as if a red-hot poker had been thrust up inside me! I could only twist helplessly in my bonds and moan in agony through my tightly-sealed lips.
With an evil smile on her face, the naked Countess, opened the clamp on the bag and the fluid began to flow into me. My eyes were wide with shock, as the heated mixture filled my bowels.
Slowly, the fiery liquid emptied deep in my belly— each second bringing new and indescribable anguish to my tortured intestines. My stomach ballooned outward, as the bag emptied into me, and I soon looked like I was in the advanced stages of pregnancy.
When the bag was empty, the Countess inflated a balloon-like device on the tube which sealed it in my rectum and kept me from expelling the agonizingly hot liquid. The cramps that the Countess had promised were horrible and I twisted in pain as they ripped through me. The position in which I was tied only made the agony that much greater. I didn't know how much longer I could stand it. My body was bathed in sweat from the pain....
The Countess reached down and yanked the adhesive tape off my mouth.
“Oh, PLEASE! Please, take it out! Let me go, I beg you!!!!!”, I wailed in desperation.
She looked down at me, a look of bemused scorn upon her face.
“I'll consider releasing you from you bonds in just a while so you can take care of this little need of yours, but first there is a matter that I would like you to take care of for me. I think you know what it is, don't you?”
“Y.... Y... Yes, oh, please.... I'll do anything, only please....”
Another agonizing cramp tore through me cutting off my reply. I could only scream in pain.
“When you have succeeded in making me cum, I'll see about releasing you, do you understand?”
“Yes!!!!!” I moaned pitifully.
“Good!”
The Countess straddled my face and squatted down. Soon her moist, fragrant, pussy was pressed against my mouth, my nose nearly forced into her anus. All of my previous hesitation and restraint was vanished as I desperately sought to please her knowing that it was the only way to obtain the release I urgently needed. Every ounce of my strength went into to making her reach her climax so that I could end my suffering. My tongue drove deep into the wet recesses of her vagina, and I licked and sucked her clitoris desperately. My face was painted with a glaze of her free-flowing juices.
She didn't make my job any easier.... Occasionally she would pull away from my face and laugh cruelly as I strained to reach my target. Other times, she lowered her full weight upon my upturned face—crushing me—smothering me with her dripping sex, as I frantically sought to breathe. Through it all, the pain continued to course through my body.
As I desperately sought to satisfy her, she lowered her mouth to my defenseless pussy and was licking and sucking with wild abandon. At one point, she found my clitoris and bit and pulled on it with such fury that I thought she would rip it from my body with her teeth.
Finally, the grinding of her hips increased, as her pussy mauled my face with greater urgency. I heard her give a loud moan and felt, on my tongue, the rhythmic pulsing of her vagina as a climax washed over her. Instantly, my mouth was filled with an incredible quantity of her orgasmic fluids which seemed to gush out of her. I didn't care... all I knew was that in a moment I would soon be released and permitted to expel the frightful mixture that continued to cruelly sear my insides.
The Countess rose and released the bulb that held the tube in place. Ever so slowly, she withdrew the apparatus from my spasming rectum.
“Just a moment longer and I'll be all right,” I told myself.
I felt the nozzle being withdrawn from my anus. A tiny stream of tepid liquid oozed out of my bottom adding greatly to my shame as I frantically fought to hold the raging mixture inside me until I could be untied.
I pleaded with her, “Please.... please hurry!!!!!!” My eyes found hers and, in that instant, I understood the full extent of her cruelty and what final humiliation she had in mind for me.
“NO!!!” I screamed, “You can't!!!! Let me down, PLEASE!!!!!”
The Countess only smiled at me—a cold, wicked, smile. She walked to the door, stopped, and looked back at me.
“Good-bye for now, Caroline. I'll send Jason in for you in a little while. After you've gotten cleaned up, he is to bring you to me. I trust, my dear, that I'll find you more cooperative then. If not.... well, we can always return here for a more intensive lesson....”
She exited the room and locked the door behind her.
“NO!!!! PLEASE!!!!!” I screamed helplessly as I struggled desperately to free myself. “LET ME GO, PLEEEEASE!!!!!”
It was no use. My frenzied struggle to free myself and my struggle to hold the mixture within me until I could be released, ended after just a few moments. A particularly vicious cramp gripped my belly. I screamed in anguish, my control slipped, and, as I wailed in misery, the filthy mixture began to pour out of me, running down my back and belly, over my breasts to collect in a putrid pool beneath my head. It seemed to go on forever....
I can not think of another time in my life when I had been as miserable and defeated as I was at that moment. Surely death would be a blessing compared to this degradation....
I continued to lie there in abject shame, sobbing loudly, until Master Jason came and entered the room. He untied and I collapsed limply in the filthy puddle, weeping inconsolably. Finally, he ordered me to stand up. He attached a hose to one of the nozzles on the wall and as I stood there unsteadily—humiliated beyond all comprehension—he turned on the faucet. The water was near freezing in temperature and he seemed to take great delight in directing the stinging spray to the most sensitive parts of my anatomy.
When I was rinsed off, still soaking wet, he led back to a small stone cell. I was locked in there, dripping wet and shivering on the cold stone floor. I must have laid there for hours, still sobbing in despair and misery. Finally he returned. I was taken to a lavatory and permitted to finish getting cleaned up and make my preparations for my return visit to the fearful Countess.
When I was done, he led me—still naked—through the winding corridors to her chamber. She was laying on the bed, clad in a black lace dressing gown, her head propped up on a pile of pillows. The lights in the room were low and she looked very beautiful. I stood there trembling....
Jason left the room. She reached down and undid the belt on her gown and opened it. Her naked body was revealed to me once again. Slowly, she parted her legs widely....
“Well, my dear....?”
I crawled between her open thighs, lowered my head, and throughout the remainder of the night and well into the morning, I willingly gave her the oral service she demanded....
For Caroline Martin, each day at the Fortress Ben-Abar brought new indignities. The aristocratic, well-bred beauty had undergone a transformation of sorts in her time there. Her eyes, which once could have cut through a man with a single haughty, arrogant glance, now bore a mark of fear and apprehension. She knew that at any moment, they might choose to inflict upon her cruel punishments for the slightest infraction or merely on the whim of one of her captors. The Countess liked that—she felt that slaves needed to learn the capriciousness of their situation. Caroline had come to expect punishment.... but when, and of what type, she never knew.
In the Room of Punishments, she had been introduced to a variety of methods and devices of great cruelty. Some restrained her in awkward, uncomfortable positions—her muscles screaming in agony, as she waited for hours to be released. Other devices inflicted exquisite anguish on her sensitive flesh. The room was well stocked with an array of ingenious devices such as nipple clamps, breast presses, and punishment harnesses. She had come to know a variety of dildos and anal probes which they delighted in using to freely violate her body's most intimate orifices.
The thought that Miss Caroline Martin—once the cream of London society—would find herself with her face between the Countess' long legs, vigorously licking and sucking the woman's moist slit, was almost beyond Caroline's comprehension. At her tormentor's command, she had been forced to flick her tongue over the erect nub of the Countess' clit. She had been ordered to move still lower and thrust her tongue deep in the dripping wet mouth of the Countess' cunt. Like a hungry puppy, she would lap the free flowing juices that gushed from the dark-haired woman's pussy. Her face would soon be coated with a glistening glaze of the Countess' fragrant essence.
For Caroline, being forced to perform this service was incredibly degrading. The repulsion she felt at being forced to engage in such a perverse act was considerable and every cell in her body rebelled against having to engage in such an obscenity. Still, she feared what might befall her if she were to disobey the Countess, and so she complied—stomach quivering with revulsion—her eyes filled with tears.
The Countess loved these sessions. Seeing the once-haughty debutante debased—her lovely face pressed into the hairy pubic mane between her legs—was exquisite. The sensation of having the tormented beauty desperately work her tongue up her cunt—fearful of not doing a perfect job—gave the Countess immense satisfaction. After an hour or so of such stimulation, the girl would be panting with exhaustion from her efforts and the Countess would have experienced several satisfying orgasms as a result. To vary the pace, she might choose to straddle the tear-soaked face of her victim and literally rape the girl's face with her own pussy—grinding her gushing cunt into the girl's upturned face and crushing it beneath her churning hips.
At times she would lower her mouth to Caroline's slit and would lewdly lick and suck Caroline's genitals. She was not gentle in her efforts. She would take the girl's clit between her teeth and painfully bite and pull on it cruelly. She particularly enjoyed bringing the girl off with her efforts. She knew that such a involuntary sensual response further shamed and degraded the beautiful Caroline Martin. That knowledge only added to the Countess' delight in so doing.
When she tired of having her pretty auburn-haired captive kiss and suck her pussy, she would roll over onto her stomach and order the girl to provide similar efforts to the adoration to the delicious flower of her asshole. It always amused the Countess to force her pretty captives—ones like the once-haughty Caroline Martin—to perform this type of intimate service to that particular portion of her anatomy. The physical sensation of feeling a moist, satiny, tongue probing that tight, forbidden channel was indescribable. Of equal satisfaction, was the knowledge that such an action symbolized complete and total mastery over her reluctant victims— victims who undoubtedly found such service to be degrading beyond measure. That thought in and of itself was most exciting and satisfying.
The Countess, during Caroline's private visits, would also take the girl into her bathroom as well. There she would continue her domination of the pretty auburn-haired beauty by forcing the girl to perform certain special, intimate services and subjecting her to other unpleasant acts that are best left for the reader's imagination to contemplate. The perverse cruelty of the Countess knew no bounds, as poor Caroline continued to discover nearly every day....
One morning, after tiring of her morning games, the Countess had informed Caroline that she might dress and would, as a reward for her efforts in satisfying her Mistress, be permitted to spend the afternoon in the courtyard of the fortress. The Countess had certain items to attend to and Jason was off in Tangiers taking care of some matters for the organization. Caroline knelt and kissed the Countess' feet in gratitude for being permitted this small liberty.
On a few previous occasions, the Countess had allowed Caroline to walk through the grounds. It had been a special treat for the girl and her enjoyment of its beauty was only hampered by the knowledge that the visit would soon end and that soon she would again be subjected to the perverse indignities that had now become her very life.
Still, she was grateful for any opportunity to enjoy a taste of freedom, however brief. Like a schoolgirl preparing for her first party, Caroline had eagerly dressed, donning a simple white cotton shift, sandals, and a wide brimmed hat for her afternoon in the garden.
The grounds of the Fortress Ben-Abar were, indeed, lovely with a rich and wonderful diversity of beautiful and fragrant plants and flowers. The stark Moroccan countryside—dry and rocky—had its own simple beauty, but the gardens of the Fortress Ben-Abar were a dramatic contrast. It was like a paradise and Caroline, on her first visit, could not help but wonder who was responsible for all this beauty.
On another previous occasion, she had seen a man working there as she had been escorted through the gardens by Jason Vanwell. The man was a tall, muscular Moor—black as midnight—who she had seen picking up branches that had been blown down in a storm. He was snapping the thick branches in two as easily as a child breaks a twig. Caroline felt him watching her intently as she had walked with Jason. It was a somewhat unsettling feeling....
This day was lovely—the warm wind blowing steadily from the west. Caroline enjoyed leisurely walking through the winding paths and inhaling the fragrances that permeated this special place. She happened to notice the gardener she had previously observed working in one corner of the courtyard and thought that he had not seen her. But, feeling somewhat frightened of him, she chose to walk on the other side of the grounds.
Caroline Martin might have been a good deal more frightened had she known the full story of Aziz Hassan, the muscular black man working on the opposite side of the garden. He had been born in Tangiers some 27 years ago, the son of a well-known gardener. His father had carefully taught him all of his secrets and soon Aziz was as skilled as his father in crafting from the barren North African soil landscapes of incredible beauty. His skills had made him most sought after amongst the wealthy colonial families that inhabited the city and who were anxious to employ a man of his talents. It was those talents that indirectly had led him to Ben-Abar.
Aziz Hassan had a weakness for white women. When a mere boy assisting his father at the estate of one of the rich colonial families, he had happened to peer through an open window and witness the owner's sixteen year-old daughter seated naked at a vanity brushing her beautiful, long red hair. He had stared at her—transfixed by her smooth white skin—his pulse racing with excitement. When she rose to shut the open window he had quickly withdrawn before she saw him. He, however, in that brief moment, glimpsed all of her beautiful nude body and that tantalizing glimpse haunted him for months. He was anxious to see more, much more, and so, for the next few years, he became a skilled voyeur—stealing private glances of the naked white women that unsuspectingly went about their intimate activities while he silently watched them just a few feet away. He usually found it easy to find plant beds beneath their windows that needed of weeding and so, was able to avoid detection despite the tremendous risks he took.
As he grew older, the desire to move beyond mere stolen glances grew greater. The local colonial officials were shocked, one spring, by a series of particularly violent rapes that had taken place in the bedrooms of the daughters of some of the richest men in the city. In every case the violated young women described the suspect in the same terms—a tall, muscular black man. The outrage in the community was tremendous and the authorities made every effort to locate the perpetrator. In time, their investigation led to Aziz Hassan. He was brought in for questioning and, after a brutal interrogation, he had confessed to all of the crimes. A quick, perfunctory trial followed, and Aziz was sentenced to the guillotine.
Then, on the night before his scheduled execution Aziz Hassan vanished! The authorities were frantic and conducted an intensive search before concluding, reluctantly, that he had somehow escaped, caught a boat, and had fled the country.
In point of fact, Aziz Hassan had not fled the country. He had been brought to Ben-Abar by Jason Van-well. Jason had read of Aziz's escapades and recognized that such a man might be valuable to the operation of Rio 9. He had easily persuaded the Countess of the soundness of his argument and arrangements were made for his “escape” to take place.
The Countess, for some time, had been anxious to employ a black man to assist in the training of some of their captives. Certainly for some of the unfortunate women who found themselves at Ben-Abar, particularly those from such regions as the southern part of the United States or South Africa, being violated by a black man was the most unspeakable of humiliations and served to effectively break their last measure of resistance and dignity.
Aziz Hassan might be very useful in providing that type of training. The Countess knew that there were risks involved and that Aziz would need to be carefully supervised. After she explained to him what was expected, Aziz had readily agreed to this new role.
The arrangement had worked out well for all parties. Aziz had proved remarkably loyal to the Countess, grateful to her for sparing his life and for giving him the opportunity to use his sexual talents, as well. An added bonus for the Countess, of course, was his skill as a gardener which soon transformed the grounds of the Fortress into a showplace.
The only problem, initially, had been with Aziz's tremendous sexual appetite which the somewhat structured nature of the Countess's training program did not permit to be fully satisfied. It had been a struggle to keep him from exceeding the Countess' constraints.
This situation had been solved a few months later when a near disaster had produced an unexpected solution. Arrangements had been made to abduct a young English woman, named Jennifer Simpson, and bring her to Ben-Abar. Instead of being alone, however, three other women were in the car with her at the time of her abduction. Not knowing how best to proceed under these circumstances, her captors drugged all four of the women and shipped them to the Fortress.
Jennifer Simpson was a truly lovely and the frightened, dark-haired beauty was quickly turned over to Jason who was most anxious to begin the normal intensive training program with her. The other three woman, however, posed problems for the Countess.
After forcing the sobbing women to undress so that she could inspect them, she discovered that their physical attributes were not in keeping with the high standards maintained by the organization. Jennifer's two companions, Alice Langley and Mary Reynolds were both nineteen. The girl's chaperon was a thirty year-old nun named Sister Catherine Adams. Alice and Mary were physical opposites, Alice being a petite, painfully thin girl with stringy brown hair, while Mary was, to put it politely, “plump”. Sister Catherine was somewhat pretty, in a plain sort of way, and had a surprisingly nice body. Had she been a few years younger, it might have been worthwhile to train and sell her. At her age, however, it was unlikely she would bring a suitable sale price.
The Countess was in something of a quandary as to what to do with these three women when she thought of Aziz. Giving these three women to him to use as he wished would certainly solve the problem of managing his insatiable sexual appetite and help keep him under control.
When it was explained to him what she had in mind, he was quite thrilled with the idea of having three white women completely at his disposal.
One unexpectedly pleasant discovery had been that all three women were virgins. It had been quite enjoyable to witness Aziz as he had deflowered the three unfortunate women who were to make up his “harem”. It had taken place in the parlor of the fortress. Witnessing the special occasion, Jason and the Countess sat on the divan with the lovely, naked, Jennifer Simpson seated between them in the same open exposed position that Caroline Martin would soon come to know so well. She starred, wide-eyed in terrified disbelief, as her three companions were brutally raped in turn by the near-giant black man. All the while, her captors seated on either side of her had fondled and caressed her in the most lewd and lascivious manner.
Mary had been first and, as the tightly-bound Alice and Catherine had watched helplessly, she had struggled violently to avoid her violation. Aziz easily overpowered her and his muscular black body soon sank into her ample, quivering flesh. She lay sobbing on the ground after he was finished.
Needing just a few moments to “reload", Aziz moved on the Sister Catherine who wailed and prayed desperately for God to spare her this trial. God apparently wasn't listening that day and the nun's maidenly barrier of chastity—that which she had held onto for so long and pledged to Jesus—soon yielded to the black gardener's massive, thrusting cock.
Alice was the last. Perhaps sensing the inevitability of the outcome and the futility of any attempted struggle, she went willingly, like a lamb being led to the slaughter. She cried out only once when he ripped into her for the first time and then lay meekly beneath him, sobbing in shame as he finished his assault.
When the entertainment of witnessing the ravishment of Jennifer Simpson's three companions was concluded, the three sobbing women were delivered to Aziz's quarters to begin their new lives as sex slaves to the hulking giant. He was most interested in using them as an outlet for his extraordinary sexual drive. In short order he had made use of each of the woman's bodily orifices for his deviant pleasures.
Time passed.
Jennifer Simpson had completed her training program and had been delivered to her appreciative purchaser who delighted in his regular violations of the dark-haired beauty.
Mary, Alice, and Catherine, too, had all begun to adjust to their new roles. They were given the task of attending to some of the more odious housekeeping tasks at the Fortress—tasks that they performed reluctantly under the threat of Aziz's punishments which he was more than eager to administer at the first sign of disobedience.
Certainly the most odious task they were made to perform, however, involved their continued sexual submission to the demands of Aziz Hassan. The jet black gardener's appetite was colossal, as the three poor women had painfully learned. His cock, even in a flaccid state, was huge and hung down nearly to his knees. When erect, it jutted out from his groin like a tree limb. In addition to his prodigious size, however, there were three attributes that made his sexual prowess most unusual and intimidating.
The first was his staying power. He could literally keep a rock-hard erection for hours on end. The girl who was subjected to a rape at the hands of Aziz Hassan would be sore and bruised by the time he was finished simply as a result of his prolonged pounding of her most intimate flesh.
His second attribute related to the quantity of his discharge. When he came, it was like a fire hose had been turned on and tremendous amounts of gism erupted out of him. When he elected to come in a girl's mouth, she was nearly drowned by the volume of his cum. A girl was usually left drenched by the huge amounts of sticky cum that coated her body after an encounter with him.
His final talent, and perhaps the most frightening one for his unhappy victims, concerned his recovery time. He would complete a tremendously satisfying fuck— one that would leave his victim sobbing and prostrated with exhaustion—and in literally minutes, he would be erect again, ready and anxious to renew his ravishment. The three women found it a difficult task to keep him satisfied for any length of time. Even on the occasions when Aziz was called upon by the Countess to assist in the training of one of her pupils, he still returned to the three women that served as his personal whores and was able to subject them to tremendous abuse.
Alice Langley had perhaps adjusted the best of the three to her new role. There was a submissiveness about her personality that meant that she offered little resistance to his advances. In a strange way, she actually seemed to enjoy some of the perverse attentions that were inflicted upon her by Aziz Hassan and would try to please him in anyway she could.
Mary Reynolds continued to resist somewhat and found Aziz's anal assaults to be particularly painful. He loved to fuck the girl's ample body and enjoyed smothering her with kisses on every inch of her corpulent body—biting her nipples, sucking on her clit, and slapping her fat ass to watch it jiggle beneath his hand.
Sister Catherine, perhaps because of her strict religious upbringing, had experienced the most difficult time of all. She continued to cry and wail every time he approached her—uttering a litany of prayers to avoid being ravaged again by the hulking black giant. Sensing her revulsion, Aziz made the young nun the focus of the most excessive of his sexual assaults and revelled in her defilement. He continually sought to come up with new perversities to inflict upon her once-chaste body.
One of his favorite methods of debasing the three women involved a scenario where all three were used simultaneously. He would make them disrobe and then Sister Catherine would be placed upon her back with her knees drawn up to her chest. In that position, with her genitals totally exposed and vulnerable, he would drive his huge cock up the tight channel of her anus— ripping cruelly into her tortured bottom. To stifle her screams of anguish, he would force Mary to straddle Catherine's head and grind her dripping cunt into the tormented nun's face as he continued to sodomize her. He would reach up and squeeze and painfully maul Mary's pendulous breasts—pinching and twisting her large nipples as she squealed in discomfort. All the while, Alice would be behind him, on her hands and knees, worshipfully kissing and licking his bunghole as his hips pumped into poor Catherine's asshole. When, after seemingly hours, he came, he would make Alice suck as much of his cum as she could out of Catherine's anguished rectum and carry it in her mouth until she could transfer to her companion's mouths in shame in a wickedly obscene kiss.
Aziz Hassan was a happy man. His life had been spared and he was intensely devoted and loyal to his rescuers. His gratitude at being saved was only exceed by his gratitude at being given the three women to enjoy as he pleased. He knew that they were not as pretty or alluring as some of the women he occasion saw undergoing training at the Countesses command, but they were white, they were female, and they were his to subject to whatever perversity struck his fancy.
Caroline Martin was enjoying her afternoon in the garden. She was seated on a wooden bench feeling the sun and the warm breeze that blew softly from the west. She had no idea where she was, and, even if she had somehow escaped the fortress, she wouldn't have known even what country she was in, much less where to run. All she knew was that she was a terribly long distance from her home, and even, if she had been able to return, it wouldn't be the same. Everything had changed, but most of all she had changed. That rebelliousness, that sense of superiority, that go-to-hell recklessness and abandon that she had previously exuded, had been totally crushed by her degrading experiences at the hands of Jason and the Countess. Fear, submissiveness, and shame were now the dominate elements in her personality. She still retained her incredible beauty, but it had been somewhat softened as a result of the degradations that had been inflicted upon her. She looked more vulnerable and frightened as a result of her experiences, and somehow more innocent. That transformation only made her more attractive, especially to the people who now dominated her and controlled her life.
In that moment, as she sat there alone on the bench watching the birds soar above the imposing walls of the ancient fortress, she felt better than she had in some time. Momentarily, the fear was forgotten, the degradation burned away by the warm desert sun, and, in her mind, she was free....
So caught up was she by the natural beauty and richness that surrounded her, that she didn't hear the footsteps that quietly drew near to her. She was watching two large birds of prey circling majestically above the fortress walls—riding warm thermal winds that rose from the valley below—when a powerful black arm encircled her waist taking her completely by surprise....
“Wha.,...?” she cried out as she tried to spin around. The massive arms tightened pulling her closer and halting her attempt to escape.
“STOP IT!!!! LET ME GO!!!!”, she cried desperately as she sought to free herself. Fear raced through her veins and her heart pounded frantically with raw terror.
The arms lifted her off the bench and threw her roughly to the stone path. She tried to get up but a knee crashed into the middle of her back, crushing her painfully into the rough stones beneath her, trapping her in place.
“NO!!!”, she cried out....
A heavily accented voice hissed into her ear, “So, the white woman wants to fight.... go ahead, bitch, fight. It will only make this more enjoyable for me....”
She twisted her head back and for the first time caught a glimpse of the grinning black face leering over her. He looked almost primitive, like something from the worst, most primal nightmare any woman can experience. In her terror she felt herself loose control of her bladder an a warm stream of amber liquid soaked her panties and her thighs.
“LET ME GO!!!!”, she wailed.
He answered her by roughly grabbing her wrist and tying a length of coarse jute around it. It was knotted so tightly that it cut painfully into her skin.
“You're hurting me....” she whimpered.
He laughed a low, frightening laugh as he quickly and equally painfully tied the other wrist as well.
“Come along, white bitch, we are going to have a garden party. It will be fun.” He twisted his fingers into her pretty auburn hair and yanked her to her feet. Then he roughly pushed her down the path.
“D... DON'T.... Where are you taking me? LET ME GO!!!”, she cried out in terror.
He led her to a large tree and easily lifted her up to drape the jute manacles that circled her wrists over the stump of a tree limb that jutted out of the tree trunk about four feet above her head. She dangled helplessly in front of him—her feet not touching the ground.
She looked at him, her eyes wide with panic. He was huge and totally terrifying. A sheen of sweat covered his coal-black body and his clothing strained to cover his bulging muscles. He looked like he could kill her in a instant. In spite of all she had been put through—the terrible degradations she had experienced at the hands of Jason and the Countess—this was even more frightening. There was an animalistic quality about the experience—his raw power and brutality— that terrified the girl to the quick.
She hung there helplessly, her chest rising and falling rapidly as he moved closer to her. Her lovely white dress had been torn at the shoulder during the struggle and was covered with dirt. A wet stain could be seen in the area between her legs and her auburn hair was dishevelled and framed a mask of fear....
“Don't....”, she whimpered....
He stepped closer to her. She could smell him now, the raw earthy scent of him. One massive black hand, rough and calloused from physical labor, reached beneath the hem of her shift and ran up her creamy, smooth thigh. Roughly his hand grabbed her silky panties and ripped the frilly fabric off of her. She screamed....
He brought the tattered fabric up to his nose and inhaled deeply. He then laughed a hearty, obscene laugh, and proceeded to rub the soaked silken fabric across her face.
“The white woman is so glad to see Aziz, she wets her pants like a little baby,” he taunted.
“Let me go... please...!!!!”, she cried miserably.
This couldn't be happening to her. Surely she wasn't fated to endure this degradation as well....
“I have a gift for you, white woman,” he said loosening the rope that circled his waist and help up his trousers, “A gift all white women love....”
He stepped out of his trousers. Caroline starred in disbelief, transfixed by the huge shaft of black meat that hung ominously between his legs....
“You like it, don't you, white bitch?”, he hissed. He pulled his shirt off and stepped closer to her. She pulled back helplessly—her body pressed against the coarse bark of the tree.
“Oh, god, oh god.... NO!!!!” she sobbed.
“And now you will show Aziz your pretty white body,” he said, grabbing the bodice of her gown and ripping it open from the neckline to nearly to its hem.
She screamed and tried to draw one leg up to cover her exposed pussy.
“I want to see your tits, bitch,” he said, roughly grabbing the frilly scrap of fabric that was her brassiere and plucking it easily off of her.
“Oh yes, they are very pretty. I am going to like sucking on them,” he said leering at her.
“But now, white bitch,” he said thrusting one muscular arm between her tightly clenched thighs and easily spreading them apart, “now I am going to fuck your pretty white cunt....”
He moved closer to her, his massive weapon hard as stone. With one hand he guided its thick, oozing, head to her moist slit. She felt it brush against the sensitive button of her clitoris and then part her labia before moving downward to the moist, waiting, mouth of her cunt. He drew back—preparing to make one brutal thrust that would rip up inside of her....
“OH, GOD, NOOOO!!!!!”, she screamed in terror.
Just then, she heard a voice.
“Aziz! Stop that this instant!” She felt him tense up and hesitate...
“You heard me, let her go!”
It was the voice of the Countess. She sounded very angry.
He grudgingly loosened his grip on her thigh and stepped back—his head hanging sheepishly....
“Thank God, oh thank God....”, Caroline sobbed in gratitude. She had never expected to be grateful to the Countess for anything.
“Haven't I warned you repeatedly not to touch the young women that are in training here, Aziz? Haven't I? Why do you keep disobeying me?”
He looked embarrassed, like a little boy caught being bad.
“I am sorry, Madam,” he said softly, his head downcast. “I could not help myself....”
“What do you mean?” the Countess asked.
“She is so beautiful, I could not help myself.... She is like a perfect flower... Aziz wanted that flower for his garden....”
The Countess' face softened and she looked around at the lush beauty of the courtyard. “The garden.... yes...” she said softly. “It is beautiful, isn't it?”
She looked around, enjoying its splendor.
“Aziz, I have been meaning to thank you for some time for all you have done to make this place so beautiful. I know you have worked very hard. Perhaps I spoke too harshly to you just a moment ago... You must realize, however, that with that wonderful tool between your legs you can unwittingly damage some of our valuable merchandise unless you are very careful....”
She looked at Caroline, still hanging there, nearly naked, listening to this conversation in disbelief.
“Still, since I have been meaning to reward you for some time for the work you have done with the grounds, if you really want the girl, perhaps I'll let you have her as a token of my gratitude for your splendid efforts. Would you like that?”
His face brightened, “Oh, yes Madam. Thank you. Thank you very much....”
“No.... no.... You can't... You can't", Caroline whimpered incredulously....
“I don't doubt that the little whore undoubtedly led you on and tried to seduce you, didn't she?” The Countess said looking disdainfully at the trussed up body of Caroline Martin who was shaking her head mutely, her terror returning with each passing second....
“All right, Aziz, you may have her for two hours. I'll stay here and make sure you don't get too carried away with your enthusiasm for the little cunt. Besides, I've been anxious to see that wonderful weapon of yours in action for quite some time. It should be amusing to watch....”
“Yes, Madam, he said mover towards Caroline who was wild with panic.
“Oh, God, NO!!....you can't.... Please! No.... please, help me! HELP ME, YOU BITCH!!! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, I beg you, don't let him...!!!” she wailed in terror.
He stepped closer to her. With one hand he ripped the tattered remnants of her shift off of her naked, trembling, body.
“Aziz is back, white bitch,” he said pulling her towards him.
He lifted her arms off of the tree branch and threw her roughly to the ground, knocking the wind out of her.
He was on top of her in an instant, his sweaty black bulk crushing her into the ground. His knees easily slid between her thighs and spread them exposing the moist pink groove of her pussy to the massive organ. His rough, black hands squeezed and scratched the tender white globes of the English girl's breasts as the Countess watched intently—an excited smile upon her face.
When he entered her with one brutal thrust, a long and agonizing scream echoed through the grounds of the ancient fortress and pierced the warm Moroccan air. High above the Fortress Ben-Abar, two birds of prey made lazy circles in the sky—riding warm invisible currents of air—unmindful of what was transpiring below....
Aziz Hassan used his two hours with Caroline Martin to maximum effect. She lay beneath him for nearly an hour as he pistoned deeply inside of her—her breath ragged from the repeated pounding her poor pussy was taking from his massive black tool. Feeling he wasn't driving deep enough inside of her, he put his forearms beneath her knees and raised her ass off of the ground until her knees where nearly level with her breasts. In that stretched-open position, each stroke of his cock painfully battered the very mouth of her uterus. Finally he came—his hot gism scalding deep into her womb.
He lay there on top of her for a few moments and then pulled wetly out of her. His black cock was coated with a mixture of his sticky cum and the sobbing girl's pussy juices. He lay on his back and pushed the debased girl's face down to his prick and ordered her to clean it with her mouth. She hesitated, not wishing to perform this disgusting task. Aziz reached down, pinched her tender nipple sharply, and gave it a viscous twist. She screamed. He soon felt her soft pink tongue lathering the sticky surface of his huge black shaft....
Such attention only caused his cock to quickly swell again to its former stature. She spent the remainder of her time with Aziz struggling to fit his huge member in her mouth. He drove deep into her throat, without the slightest consideration of the difficulty she had trying to perform this task. Gagging, sobbing—crying in pain and humiliation—she desperately sought to please him and end her torment. When he came, she nearly choked on the huge volume of cum that gushed out of him— filling her mouth and oozing out of its corners to dribble down her tear-soaked face.
She lay on the ground in total misery—her body was bruised and battered—her cunt still oozing cum from his discharge. She ached and wanted to die of the horrible shame and degradation she felt.
The Countess, a witness to the entire afternoon's events, rose and walked to her. Looking into the girl's shame-filled eyes, she said, “Well, Caroline, I hope you've enjoyed your afternoon in the garden.”
She made Aziz carry the sobbing girl back to the fortress to her small stone cell. Caroline was tied by a collar to a heavy chain in the wall. She was totally exhausted from her ordeal. The Countess went to the cabinet and returned holding the Cage of Silver.
She spoke to the girl: “During your visit with dear Aziz this afternoon, you were impertinent enough to refer to me as a “bitch”. I cannot tolerate such behavior, as you should certainly know by now. As punishment for your insolence, you will spend the night locked in the Cage of Silver. I know how much you dislike it. In the morning when Jason returns I will instruct him to administer a whipping of twenty-five lashes directly on your pretty little cunt. Perhaps that will help you remember to hold your tongue.”
The horrible metal device was fitted around her neck—the cruel steel ball with projecting metal spikes locked in her mouth inflicting fresh agonies on the already tormented girl. With that they left her for the night—alone, her body bruised and battered from the day's activities. Her mouth suffered new punishments from the uncomfortable ball that filled her oral cavity and her fear only increased as, in her mind, she imagined the punishments that awaited her in the morning....
Aziz Hassan walked back towards his quarters. He thought of the beautiful white woman he had just raped and smiled happily. She had been very wonderful and he had enjoyed her degradation tremendously. As walked on, his thoughts turned to the other three woman that would be waiting fearfully for his return. His prick began to stiffen with anticipation as he contemplated the perverse outrages he would soon inflict on their naked bodies. For them, their long night of shame and degradation was about to begin....
The Countess, after a delicious dinner, returned to her chamber. She undressed and stretched out on the large, luxurious bed. As she lay there, she languidly ran her hands over her beautiful nude body. In her mind she replayed the indignities that had been inflicted on Caroline Martin that day. Her thighs parted. One of her carefully-manicured hands moved to her full, dark mound of pubic hair at the apex between her legs. Her first and third fingers spread the thick lips of her cunt apart while her long middle finger began to rhythmically stroke up and down her slit—stimulating the erect button of her clit before sliding delightfully up the moist channel of her cunt.
Soon she came—a wonderfully satisfying orgasm— and with the image of the most recent degradations inflicted on poor Caroline still vivid in her mind, she drifted off into a contented and restful sleep....
I returned home from my trip to Tangiers and learned of Caroline Martin's recent ordeal in the garden. One might have thought that the Countess would have been upset with Aziz Hassan for attempting to take liberties with the girl. In point of fact, she was pleased that it had happened. In my absence, Caroline would have otherwise been spared her daily exposure of unwanted and unwelcome male attentions that comprised an important part of her training regime. Happily, Aziz Hassan had provided the girl with a wonderful amount of such male exposure. And when I visited her cell in the morning, I found she still hadn't recovered from that exposure.
For Caroline, it had been an awful night. Already in anguish from the workout she had experienced with Aziz, the Cage of Silver had only added to her misery and pain. She was totally exhausted and looked close to the edge of collapse. I was almost tempted to take pity on her and spare her the punishment the Countess had promised, but then thought better of it. After all, she hadn't earned any favors....
I sensed that she would need a few days to recover after I administered the promised whipping to her pretty little cunt, so I decided it wouldn't impede the progress of her training to increase her distress by engaging in a little rape of my own.
While still chained to the wall and encased in the hated Cage of Silver, I put her on her hands and knees and moved behind her. In that position, her splendid ass was nicely exposed. I pulled the fleshy cheeks apart and looked at her intimate feminine secrets so nicely displayed before me. Her shaved pussy dangled below—its lips parted slightly revealing the little nub of her clitoris. I could see the moist mouth of her vagina above. It looked most inviting!
Even more appealing in that revealing position, was the clenched-tight rosette of her anus. Other than probing it with our fingers, tongues, or various dildos, we had thus far spared that sensitive portion of her anatomy. I would dearly have loved to bugger her that morning—to hear her squeals of pain as I crudely violated that last unmolested orifice of her body, but I knew that it would have to wait. The time for the deflowering of that maidenhead was, however, rapidly approaching. For the moment I was contented to merely lean down and bury my tongue in its spasming depths. She was very sensitive back there and I knew that my oral attentions caused her added shame and distress. I delighted in tongue-fucking her in that obscene manner and I could hear her muffled protestations through the painful spiked ball that still filled her pretty mouth. It only served to heighten my anticipation of the day when I would complete my violation of this last tasty morsel of her anatomy.
For this morning, her pussy was that target of my erotic attentions. I ran three of my fingers down her slit and twisted them inside of her. From her muffled cries and moans I could determine that she must still be very tender from the treatment she had received at the hands of Aziz. I positioned my cock at the mouth of her cunt and pushed vigorously inside of her. I could hear her muted screams of distress at this painful violation. I knew the damage that Aziz Hassan's splendid cock could inflict upon the most intimate parts of a girl's anatomy and so, after that initial painful thrust, I elected to be somewhat gentler than I might otherwise have been in my fucking of my lovely victim. Even my gentle thrusting, however, was causing Caroline a great deal of pain and that was all that really mattered. Had I been more forceful, she might have passed out form the pain and I would have had to deal with smelling salts and stimulants to keep her awake. Administering those can be a bother in the midst of a pleasant fuck. Even I was surprised, however, at just how tender she was and how much pain she seemed to be in.
I withdrew from her pussy and released her from the Cage of Silver. I knew that her mouth would be almost as sore as her pussy after spending the night locked in that cruel device. Before she had the opportunity to utter a word, I placed my cock on her lips.
“Suck it, Caroline,” I ordered.
She had endured enough unpleasantness recently and she knew all too well just how capable I was of causing her a good deal more of it. She proved to be most cooperative in carrying out my order despite the pain and discomfort she, undoubtedly, was feeling in her mouth. Hungrily she licked and sucked my member, as I enjoyed the delightfully exciting sensations her oral stimulation produced.
“That's it, whore. Take it deep in your throat,” I hissed.
Her hands reached up and cupped my balls gently, as she worked with great vigor on my throbbing cock. I think she may have deluded herself into believing that if I was pleased with her performance I might spare her the promised cunt whipping. She was, of course, in error in that belief, but I let her delude herself into believing it was true. I enjoyed her valiant oral efforts.
Considering how hard I'd had to work to get her to perform this unpleasant task earlier in her training program, her progress had been remarkable. I relaxed and let myself go. In just a few moments my cock was spurting happily in her mouth, shooting thick jets of hot cum deep into her throat. Like the obedient whore she was rapidly becoming, she swallowed every drop of my offering.
“That was very nice,” I said smiling pleasantly at her, as she looked up at me with her wide, uncertain eyes. “Now, my dear, are you ready to receive you punishment?”
I saw the tears well up in her eyes as she pleaded with me not to whip her pussy—to spare her this ordeal—but she must have been very tired because her efforts to persuade me seemed almost perfunctory. It was as if a part of her was resigned to the fact that she was destined to undergo this painful ordeal. Perhaps, she realized, that she would be more prudent to save her energy to help her get through it, rather than waste her physical resources in a futile effort to avoid it.
I elected not to take her down to the Room of Punishments to administer her cunt whipping, deciding instead to inflict it here in her cell. Rather than use the straddling bars, I attached a spreader bar to her ankles. After securing her wrists behind her back, I attached a rope to the spreader bar and, by means of a pulley in the ceiling, hoisted her up until she dangled upside down in front of me with her cunt at just the right level. I reached down and, with one hand, pried the tender, moist petals of her cunt apart revealing more of the soft and oh-so-sensitive inner surfaces. I picked up a leather quirt and began the punishment....
It must have hurt tremendously, because she screamed like she was being cut by a knife with each blow that landed on that vulnerable flesh. Each lash found its sensitive target with just the right impact at just the right location. The pain was so intense that, at one point, she lost control of her bladder and her amber urine flowed out of her, running down her body to collect in a puddle beneath her.
She only passed out twice during the whipping but was quickly revived with smelling salts. I'm sure she would have welcomed the luxury of unconsciousness to make it easier to endure this painful ordeal, but I made sure she was awake and alert for every agonizing blow of it. She was sobbing incoherently by the time I finished with her.
I left her tied in that open, uncomfortable, exposed position for about an hour while I went out and enjoyed a pleasant cup of tea in the garden. When I returned, I untied her ankles, re-secured her by her collar to the chain in the wall and shut off the light. I left her alone in the darkness, still sobbing softly, as she lay in misery and pain on the thin rug that covered the hard stone floor of her cell.
I then checked in with the Countess and reported on Caroline's condition. We were in agreement that she had, in the past 24 hours, endured a particularly difficult experience and was suffering from the results of that unpleasantness. We agreed that it would be necessary to give her a few days of less severe treatment before she was rested enough to resume her normal, intensive training program. There were some additional levels of submission that we needed to expose her to before we delivered her to Sir Basil, and, though the date for her delivery was rapidly approaching, the final phases of her training would have to wait until she had physically recovered, somewhat, from her most recent abuse.
Not that she would be totally spared the next few days, mind you. She would still need to endure my application of the Countess' soothing salve to the painful welts I raised on that most sensitive flesh between her legs with my most recent whipping. You may rest assured that I used the pretext of applying the salve to the make her lewdly display her naked feminine secrets to my gaze and touch. While administering the salve, I would also make certain to caress and fondle the poor girl's pussy and asshole in the most lascivious manner possible. I was constantly amazed that, despite the degradations we had so vigorously inflicted upon her, Caroline Martin still retained a deeply ingrained sense of personal modesty and found any such examination of her most private parts to be extremely humiliating and degrading. It was one of her most endearing qualities, and, I was certain, that was a quality that would stay with her no matter what we did to her. I couldn't help but imagine how much, in the future, Sir Basil would enjoy repeatedly violating that sense of modesty.
The Countess, too, required that Caroline continue her forced oral service, as well. I would bring the naked Caroline Martin to the Countess' chamber each morning and close the door behind me, leaving her there. Throughout the morning, from behind the closed door, I would hear a mixture of Caroline's sobs of shame, the Countess' exaltations and orders. Presently I would hear the Countess' intense moans of passionate pleasure that resulted form Caroline executing those commands. When I would return to escort her back to her cell, Caroline's eyes would be red with tears, her checks flushed with shame, and her mouth and face coated and smeared with the Countess' fragrant, orgasmic juices.
During the afternoons and evenings, there would be other training activities to occupy her time. I would take her to the library and make her spend the afternoon looking over a set of most interesting scrapbooks that we maintained.
Our organization had been in existence for nearly fifty years. In that time literally hundreds of lovely young women had been abducted, trained, and delivered to their new owners. Before they leave the custody of Rio 9, it is our policy to photographically document the training they have experienced while here or at one of our other training facilities. These photos have been carefully collected and bound into the thick volumes that I instructed Caroline to study.
Each page of each volume contained photos of a different woman undergoing various training activities during their time with us. Also included was a card that identified the woman by name. It also included her vital statistics, told where she was originally from, and when she had been delivered to us for training. In all of the photos the women were nude—their most intimate physical secrets captured permanently on film. In some of the photos the women would be in various states of physical bondage. Still others showed them undergoing an innovative array of different punishments. Many of the photos also showed them being sexually molested and violated by me or by one of my training predecessors.
The books were most fascinating to peruse. It was particularly interesting and enlightening to see that, despite the way women's make up and hair styles might change over the years, the look of fear, pain, humiliation, and shame in their eyes remained constant in all of them.
It was a valuable training tool to force a woman undergoing training, like Caroline Martin, to look through these books. It made them realize a great deal about the scope and diversity of the organization in whose hands they now found themselves—its size, its geographic range, its obvious power. They came to realize that their individual suffering was not unique or special and it forced them realize that they were merely small, insignificant, parts of a very large, very powerful, operation. And that they could never escape its control. That realization could be particularly terrifying.
As Caroline looked through the volumes and gazed at the photos of women like her who had been stripped, tortured, abused, and violated, undoubtedly she wondered what had happened to all of these women? Where had they gone? What shameful degradations had they been forced to endure? Where were they now? She could also not help but wonder what torments and degradations awaited her in the future when she left the fortress....
She recognized some of the women's photos from newspaper accounts she had read in recent years of mysterious disappearances or unsolved abductions. These volumes could, undoubtedly, help close the books on a large number of open criminal investigations and would answer the haunting questions of what had happened to these poor, vanished, women.
In the middle of the last volume, Caroline came to the page with her photos on it. It was something of a shock for her to see the images of her own naked body on those pages. It made her realize that she was merely the latest link on a very long chain—a chain of suffering, pain, degradation, and shame, all well documented on the pages of those books. She also could not help but notice that there were many blank pages behind hers waiting to be filled by other innocent, young women who were now going about their daily lives, unaware of the fact that, at some point in the future, they, too, would one day find themselves living this nightmare.
Another diversion that occupied our time would be to have Caroline witness some of the films we had made of her earlier training activities. It was most interesting to watch as a girl witnessed her own violation on the screen. How unpleasant it was for them to have those most painful and degrading experiences, replayed and re-lived before their eyes! It only served to keep the image and memory of those violations fresh and vivid in their minds. What girl could watch herself being put through the things we had made her undergo and not again feel the pain and shame, as she witnessed her own face contorted in agony or saw her silent cries for mercy that never came displayed again before her eyes? What girl would not again experience every ounce of the shame and humiliation she had initially felt during her violation when again being forced to witness the image of her own body being so brazenly abused?
There was a particular film of a session with Caroline that I found strangely exciting and I would make her watch with me regularly. We would sit on a comfortable divan in the parlor and watch it projected on the wall opposite us. Caroline would be naked and seated in front of me, while I would be wearing just my robe but would otherwise be nude. The robe would be open and I would be able to reach around her as she sat in front of me and touch and stroke her breasts and pussy lewdly while we watched the silent flickering images on the screen. I could also reach up and draw her hair to one side so I could kiss the sensitive flesh of her neck and whisper warm obscenities into her ears as we watched the film.
This particular film was somewhat unusual. It was not of one of her violent punishment sessions where I or the Countess had viscously tormented the girl causing her to shriek in anguish. Nor was it one of violation where I had crudely or violently drove my erect member inside of her unwilling pussy or mouth. This film was of a session where I had ordered Caroline to masturbate for me....
In this film, I was seated just out of the camera range. Caroline knelt in front of me, her head downcast. She was nude, of course, and I was again, as always, struck by the incredible perfection of her body. I could easily see why Sir Basil had been so interested in her, but I doubted if even he realized just how desirable and delectable Caroline Martin truly was. He would soon learn....
The camera was focused tightly on her face as I gave her the instructions for what I wanted her to do. Although one could not hear my instructions on the film, I could see her reactions reflected on her face on the screen. Her eyes widened momentarily with shock at what I had ordered her to do in front of me. As I have said previously, Caroline Martin possessed a high degree of inbred, personal modesty and my suggestion undoubtedly shocked that innate sense of modesty with its brazen lewdness.
There was a momentary flash of her old anger—her sense of outrage that showed in her eyes before she quickly suppressed it. It was a reminder of what Caroline had been like before she had been brought here— when she had slapped Sir Basil for harmlessly placing his hand upon her knee in a London carriage. It also reminded me of the reactions of the spoiled girl who I first met in the Countesses parlor who, despite being trussed up, had attempted to bite me when I had begun to unbutton her lovely decolletage to first expose her magnificent breasts to the my view. We had made tremendous progress in the weeks she had been with us— totally crushing that type of response out of her so that just a momentary visage of it remained and passed, as a flicker, across her eyes before being suppressed by her newly learned obedience.
These reactions were quickly replaced by a mask of sad resignation. She knew that there was no way she could avoid performing this most private of personal actions for my pleasure and that her performance would be captured for perpetuity on film, as well. I knew that this knowledge shamed and humiliated her deeply and I could see that shame reflected in the tears that welled-up in her eyes.
The camera pulled back as, on my command, Caroline lay on her back in front of me. Her feet were towards me, her head pointed away from me. She slowly responded to my next off screen command—to spread her thighs and raise her knees. The camera captured the exciting image of her legs opening, her knees being pulled back, and the lovely groove of her womanhood coming into the camera's unobstructed view.
Her face was a mask of grim determination as she began to carry out my orders. Her eyes were shut—her jaw set—as her hands moved down her beautiful body. She would do what I instructed her to do—obeying my commands—but would steel her body to keep from experiencing any pleasure or satisfaction from the exercise—her private emotions locked away.
Her hands found her breasts and cupped them. She squeezed them emotionlessly for a few moments. Then she moved one hand to her nipple. Her fingers played lightly over its pale pink surface, and you could see it start to stiffen, against her will. The opposite nipple, too, soon tightened and stood erect at the summit of that magnificent peak.
As I sat behind her on the divan and watched her image upon the screen, my hands found her breasts, and like the her image on the screen, I teased her nipples to rigid erectness.
As we watched, we saw her respond to my command and move her hand lower, across the flat plain of her belly, to the smooth mound that capped her womanhood. Since the girl's public hair had been removed, every detail of her plump, pink, pussy was nicely exposed. She spread the lips of her cunt apart and slowly began moving her fingers up and down her slit. My own hand dropped to Caroline's cunt, as we watched upon the screen.
At first it was mere obedience—a slave fulfilling a master's shameful order and nothing more. And then, something happened—a moment when, despite her shame and humiliation, she felt pleasure. Not much, perhaps, but an instant when sensation triumphed over her efforts to maintain her dignity and control.
Gradually, as we watched, it happened. We could see a slow, almost imperceptible loss of her composure.
The sensations she was experiencing became more and more intense, as her fingers teased the erect button of her clit and then drove lower into the moist mouth of her cunt. As we watched, the pleasurable sensations took control of her and she no longer seemed aware of where she was or the fact that someone was watching her perform this intimate, private, act. She became caught up in herself and the pleasure she was giving to herself. Her eyes were shut and I could see a moan escape her lips.
As she watched her own image on the screen, in my arms, Caroline's body also began to respond—slowly perhaps, unwillingly perhaps—but respond, nevertheless. The girl on the screen seemed now totally lost in her own pleasure, her fingers now glistening with juices from her excited cunt.
My off-screen voice spoke to her, pulling her back to the reality of where she was and what she was being made to do. There was a momentary flash of anger— quickly suppressed—and then shame, as she took the dildo from my hand and, on my instruction, began to drive it deep inside her pussy. Soon—quicker than before since her passion had now been awakened—the pleasure of the action again took hold of her. As we watched, her hand pumped the dildo inside of her while her other hand caressed her breasts and twisted and squeezed her nipples urgently.
My off-screen voice spoke again and she was again pulled momentarily back to reality as I gave her another order. Again there was the flash of anger, followed by an instant of shame, but now followed by quick compliance—not out of a sense of obedience, but because she knew that by doing what I had ordered, it would only add to her rapidly mounting pleasure. While she continued to piston the dildo deep in her cunt, she reached back with her other hand and began to play with her tightly-clenched little bunghole. It was a delightful sight to watch her twist one of her long, elegant fingers up the tight channel of her anus and slowly work it in and out of her rhythmically.
We watched on the divan—Caroline's naked body pressed tightly against mine—as my hands drew from her the same sensations that her own hands had achieved on the screen. I looked at her face before me. It was a mask of pleasure—eyes shut, mouth open in a silent moan. I was struck by how much her face in the throes of pleasure resembled her face in the throes of pain....
She was close to coming—no longer a terrified girl living a nightmare, far from home—no longer just a compliant slave trying to satisfy her master's demands and avoid a punishment—this was a sensual woman in the grip of ecstasy—taking her own pleasure and riding it like a wave.
She came—both on screen and in my arms—deep, intense orgasms that swept over her and, in her pleasure, carried her far from the Fortress Ben-Abar.
And then, it faded.... The intense pleasure vanished and the realization of where she was and what she had just done returned. A wave of humiliation washed over her. In an instant she had gone from being a sensuous woman in the throes of passion, to a mere frightened girl—naked, with her hand between her legs— performing a lewd act, while her cruel master watched her and enjoyed every minute of her shame. The film ended....
I spun Caroline around in my lap. I could see the debasement she had experienced on-screen reflected in her face as she re-lived that humiliating experience. Sensing the degradation she felt and revelling in it, I forced her to her knees and drove my prick deep into her throat. As excited as I was by what I had witnessed and experienced both on-screen and in my arms, it did not take long for me to cum—erupting in her mouth and on her tear-streaked face in a most satisfying orgasm.
* * *
The following afternoon Caroline was again in the library studying the pictures of the other young women that had proceeded her in bondage here at the Fortress Ben-Abar. Her face was troubled as she again looked at their silent images that captured their shame and degradation. Every photo also served as a painful reminder of the outrages we had forced her to experience and endure. She looked very beautiful seated at the table dressed in a simple white cotton dress.
“Come along, Caroline, my dear,” I said brightly. “You've been cooped up inside all day and we need to give you some fresh air.”
“W... Where are you taking me, Master?”, she asked in a timid little-girl voice that I found most appealing.
“I thought you might enjoy a stroll in the garden, my dear.”
The color drained from her face at the mention of the garden, as she recalled what had taken place there just a few days earlier. The memory of what she had experienced there with Aziz Hassan was still fresh in her mind.
“PI.... please, Master, not there....”, she whispered softly.
“Don't be a silly little girl,” I said sharply. “It's a lovely day and it will do you good. Now I don't want to hear any more of your foolish objections. If I do, I'll find something much more unpleasant for you to do this afternoon. Now come along.”
We strolled slowly through the lovely gardens but I could see that Caroline wasn't experiencing much pleasure from the experience. Her eyes were wide with fear, as she looked quickly from point to point in the garden, terrified of who she might encounter.
As I had planned, we eventually came to a corner of the garden where the massive gardener was kneeling over a flower bed replanting some lovely flowers.
Caroline saw him and froze in terror. It was like seeing a rabbit reacting to a predator. She was trembling slightly....
“Well, look who we have here!”, I said brightly. “I believe you remember Aziz?”
She looked at me, pitifully—her eyes wide with fear.
“Where are your manners, Caroline? Offer Aziz your hand.”
He stayed on his knees looking at the girl hungrily as Caroline reluctantly extended her delicate hand towards him. He took it in his coarse, rough hand, and then, with exaggerated politeness, drew it towards his lips. He kissed it and I smiled inwardly as I watched the manner in which he had delivered this kiss. He made sure his lips were wet with his saliva before they touched her flesh and, as he held her hand to his lips, his tongue snaked out subtly and lewdly to wet the back of her hand. She shuddered with revulsion at this mild obscenity. When he released it, she drew her hand back to her body and sought to wipe it clean on her dress.
“Aziz was most concerned about you, Caroline. He feared he might have hurt you during your encounter the other day. I assured him you were fine but he insisted on seeing for himself, isn't that so, Aziz?”
“Yes, Mr. Jason, Aziz was most anxious to see the pretty white woman again.”
Caroline could feel his eyes roaming over her body and she felt violated again by having to stand in front of him as he did so.
“He was particularly concerned that he might have damaged your pretty little cunt, Caroline", I said, as an audible sob escaped her lips. “Why don't you lift up you skirt and show him you are all right. Go ahead, my dear....”
She was filled with fear and shame, but slowly, gradually, she bent over, grasped the hem of her white cotton dress, and drew it up her legs. Tears were flowing from her tightly shut eyes....
She hadn't been permitted to wear undergarments. Her lovely little cunt came into view and Aziz smiled broadly.
“As you can see, Aziz, her cunt looks to be in very good shape.”
“She is so beautiful, Mr. Jason.”
“Indeed, she is,” I replied. “Caroline, why don't you remove your dress and show Aziz just how beautiful you are?”
She stood there holding her dress up around her middle—and naked from the waist down. The massive black gardener knelt in front of her, his face just inches from her pussy. She looked at me tearfully— silently begging me not to subject her to such degradations.
“We are waiting, Caroline,” I said sharply. “Unless you'd rather I left you alone with Aziz for the remainder of the afternoon, I strongly suggest you obey.”
Reluctantly, she drew the garment over her head and stood totally naked before us. Her pale white skin shone like an alabaster statue in the warm Moroccan sun.
Aziz spoke, “I was afraid, Mr. Jason, that in our fucking, I had stretched her pussy and she would no longer be so delightfully tight.”
“Well, Aziz, why don't you check for yourself. I'm sure Caroline wouldn't mind, would you, my dear?”
A sob escaped her lips.
“Go ahead, Aziz, and see for yourself,” I said.
He placed one of his massive black hands—coarse, rough, and stained with the Moroccan soil—on the creamy white flesh of her inner thigh just above her knee. Slowly, he moved his hand upwards across the sensitive skin of her trembling inner thigh until his hand reached her pussy. The tears were pouring freely from her eyes now....
His fingers slowly spread the lips apart and one of his massive fingers—as thick as some men's cocks— twisted up inside her while she moaned in shame. He worked his finger in and out of her vagina until it glistened with her wetness. Caroline's face was a mask of misery....
He added first a second and then third thick finger to her tight little cunt. It made an amusing sight.... the beautiful young white woman standing naked in shame in the garden while the massive black gardener knelt before her—his fingers lewdly fucking her tight little cunt. I'd wished I'd brought the camera so that this image might be added to the other photos in the scrapbook in the library.
“Oh, yes, Mr. Jason, You are right.... She is still very tight.”
He continued his digital penetration for several moments while Caroline stood there sobbing. Finally, he withdrew his fingers from her pussy. They were wet with her juices and he reached up and wiped them across her perfect white tits leaving a muddy streak across them from the mixture of the dirt on his hands and the moisture from her cunt.
He reached up again and this time his fingers found the clenched tight bud of her ass. She tensed visibly....
“And here, Mr. Jason.... have you taken her here yet?”
He twisted one finger roughly up that opening, as she cried out at her at the unexpected intrusion.
“Not yet,” I replied, “but soon, I promise.”
“You are a lucky man, Mr. Jason. I know she will squeal like a pig when you stick her there....”
I laughed in agreement.
Aziz spoke, “I have something very special to show you, Mr. Jason. Come with me.”
He led us to a corner of the garden and pointed to a special bed of plants.
“I have been working for sometime on these.” he said proudly.
I recognized them at once—stinging nettles—though I had never seen this particular variety.
“They are a very special hybrid. A normal variety of nettle can be most unpleasant to the touch. These are much, much, worse. Perhaps you would enjoy seeing a little demonstration of their effectiveness?”
I nodded in agreement.
“Might I have the use of this lovely white woman for my demonstration, Mr. Jason?” he asked politely. “But of course,” I replied.
He donned a pair of heavy leather gloves and, with a pair of garden shears, carefully clipped several sprigs of the leafy green plant. Caroline's eyes were wide with terror as the black gardener stood up before her holding the leafy branches in his hand.
“You had best hold her firmly, Mr. Jason. She will react quite strongly when I touch her with these.”
I stepped behind Caroline and with my arms, pinioned her elbows tightly. My right leg slid in front of hers, opening her legs widely and holding them in place. She was pleading with me for mercy....
Aziz began by lightly circling her right breast with nettles. Caroline's body stiffened and a low, anguished, moan escaped her lips. I could see the flesh on her lovely breast turning red and angry-looking where it had been in contact with the leaves.
He teasingly ran the leaves over her defenseless nipples. It took all of my strength to hold her in place so Aziz could continue her torment. She was shrieking in pain.
Aziz slowly ran the branches across the silky expanse of flesh of her lower belly. As Aziz moved the leaves closer and closer to her cunt, her frenzied cries of pain became even more intense.
I held her tightly in my arms as Aziz, with calculated cruelty, brought the bundle of leaves directly down the sensitive cleft of her womanhood. To judge from Caroline's reaction, the pain must have been maddening.
Aziz halted his demonstration. Caroline's lovely body was marred with fiery red patches revealing clearly every spot where Aziz had touched her. She was sobbing with pain as her flesh continued to burn.
I was genuinely impressed with the effectiveness of this new hybrid of nettles. They would, I was certain, come in very handy in future training sessions when one of my feminine charges was reluctant to comply with a command. I couldn't help but wonder how obedient Caroline would be it I were to threaten to line her brassiere and knickers with these leaves and force her to wear them for the remainder of the day or to force her to spend the night sleeping on a bed of them. I suspected she would willingly do anything I asked of her to avoid that fate.
I congratulated Aziz of his successful efforts and said my farewells.
Caroline continued to cry loudly as I led her away. I suspect her tears might be, in part, a reaction to her recent ordeal or even a reaction to the humiliation from having to again endure Aziz's touch. I couldn't be certain. Perhaps it was apprehension about what might happen next. Not that the reason for her tears mattered all that much....
It had been a pleasant afternoon. The punishment we had inflicted on the girl had been quite mild and she had endured no forcible violation—just an enjoyable little visit with an old friend....
I led her back through the garden to her room. I didn't let her dress but instead made her walk naked through the garden, while I carried her garments for her. Arriving at her room, I locked her—still naked—in it, and then headed for the Countess' chamber.
When I reached the end of the hall I could still hear Caroline's sobs of despair echoing through the corridor....
The next day, Jason had led the sobbing Caroline Martin back to her room after the girl had spent a long and exhausting morning orally servicing the Countess. He returned to his superior's chamber. The Countess was still in her bed, wearing just a transparent black-silk robe that did little to hide her alluring feminine charms. The air still bore the womanly scent of passion that was evidence of what had recently transpired upon the bed. The Countesses' face was flushed with a satisfied glow.
“Ah, Jason, my dear, I must confess I will miss that one when she leaves us,” she said somewhat wistfully. “It always seems that the ones who fight the hardest in the beginning are the ones that end up giving one the most pleasure....”
“I quite agree,” he replied.
“Well, it is Caroline's departure that I need to discuss with you this morning, Jason. I have promised Sir Basil that we will deliver her to him in just three weeks. I've been quite pleased with her progress and I want to thank you for doing such a splendid job with her. I'm sure Sir Basil will be quite pleased with her as well.”
She reached over and picked up a leather bound journal on the nightstand. In the process, her robe fell open and Jason got a brief glimpse of her beautiful body. He smiled. He had, of course, seen her naked on many occasions as they had jointly trained their pupils, but the sight of her lovely body always excited him.
“There remains just one major area of Caroline's anatomy that we need to focus the remainder of our training efforts upon and that, as you well know, is dear Caroline's tight little bottomhole. I know how much you have been looking forward to the day when I would permit you to satisfy yourself in that delightful portion of her person. You have done an admirable job of restraining yourself, Jason....”
He smiled modestly. “I've always found that the anticipation of a meal only makes it that much more satisfying.”
She laughed, “Well, my friend, you won't have much longer to wait. I've held off from letting you finish this task until I could develop a suitably wicked scenario for how to accomplish this delightful deed. Now I think I have and I'd like to see it carried out this Saturday.
She then outlined for him, in broad strokes, what she had in mind for the unfortunate girl. The Countess had a flair for the theatrical and Jason had to chuckle at the imaginative scenario the Countess outlined for poor Caroline. He could feel his cock stiffen with lusty anticipation as he contemplated what was in store their lovely captive.
The Countess concluded by stating, “I will leave it in your capable hands, Jason, to work out all the details, but I do think that the experience of having your splendid prick deep up her sweet, virgin asshole will be a suitable conclusion to the day's entertainment, don't you agree, my good friend?”
He heartily agreed.
“Just remember, Jason,” she continued, “I want Caroline's anal deflowering to be something truly memorable—an event she will never forget as long as she lives.”
Jason smiled and assured his superior that her wishes would be carried out to the letter.
He was preparing to leave to begin making arrangements, when the Countess remembered another item she wished to discuss with him. She picked up a large manila envelop from the nightstand.
“I meant to tell you, before you go, Jason, that I've received information this morning about our next assignment. You should find it most interesting. You will, of course, accompany Caroline on her journey to London. Instead of returning here, however, you will proceed to Dublin and pick up our next shipment.”
“I believe you mentioned to me once that you always thought it would be amusing to have two young women undergoing training simultaneously, didn't you? Well, look in this envelop and see what you find.”
He opened it and then smiled broadly.
“The two ladies you see in that photograph are Shannon and Catherine O'Toole and, my dear Jason, if you thought training two girls would be interesting, imagine how much more interesting training identical twin sisters will be....”
The photos showed two breathtakingly beautiful red-haired girls—mirror images of each other. They looked to be about nineteen and had a fresh-faced innocence that Jason found very appealing....
“You remember Joseph, our client in Boston, don't you?”, she asked.
He remembered. The man had been born to Irish immigrant parents, and through tremendous drive and determination, had succeed in attending Harvard, and then in making a small fortune working as a financier. He had married into a politically influential Irish-
American family and had already started a large family of his own. As for his small fortune, during Prohibition it had grown into a quite substantial one. It was said that he had political ambitions of his own—if not for himself, then certainly for his sons. He'd been a very good customer for the organization, and Jason had previously trained several young women who now were kept by Joseph in a special house in a fashionable part of the city of Boston....
“He was in Ireland last year visiting the ancestral homeland when he happened to see these two lovely creatures and was quite taken with them. He contacted us to see if we could be of assistance in adding them to his collection. Of course, we were anxious to accommodate him....”
Jason looked at the photos again, his imagination already starting to sketch out interesting scenarios....
He would need to carefully plan out the training activities for the two young women. He knew that one of the most effective tools in the Countess' training program was the sense of isolation each captive feels when brought here—the perception they are experiencing all of this torment totally on their own. With two women undergoing training at the same time that isolation wouldn't be present. He also was aware of the fact that familial ties might also fortify the sisters against the rigors of the training program. He would need to come up with some innovative approaches to deal with these problems—perhaps forcing each sister to participate in the punishment of the other. Certainly, he would force each of them to spend a good deal of time sexually stimulating the other, knowing how degrading and demeaning they would such activities to be. It would be a challenge, but it was one he welcomed. He would spend part of the next few weeks in the enjoyable task of mentally preparing for their arrival....
In the meantime, however, there was still Caroline Martin to attend to. Saturday was just two days away and the special activities would need to be carefully planned. As he was leaving the Countess' chamber, she stopped him one more time. She stripped off her robe, rolled slowly over onto her stomach, and spread her long, shapely legs. She then elevated her hips affording Jason a bewitching view of her splendid pink pussy and asshole surrounded with its profusion of thick, dark pubic hair. She looked back over one of her shoulders and smiled seductively at him....
“Would you be so good, my dear friend, as to bring Caroline back here? Contemplating all that will be happening in the next few weeks has made me very excited. Her pretty, pink tongue would be just what I need to help me relax. I know just the place, or places, where I want her to put it....”
Nestled deep within the heavy stone walls of the Fortress Ben-Abar, was a room with a fascinating history. The fortress had originally been built as an outpost for the Roman Empire in the rugged Atlas Mountains of northern Africa. With the coming of Christianity, at some point in the early history of the fortress, a small Byzantine chapel had been constructed as part of the complex.
The 7th century had brought the rapid spread of Islam to northern Africa and the Fortress had been one of the followers of Mohammed's conquests. The conquerors had, of course, pillaged the infidel chapel and it had laid in ruins for centuries.
Near the end of the last century, ownership of the old fortress changed hands. The Countess' family had acquired the property at that time and began the monumental task of restoring the complex, which had, by this time, fallen into an advanced state of disrepair.
One of the Countess' great aunts, an upright and pious woman, had taken a special interest in the restoration of the chapel. Large sums of money had been lavished on the project and the tiny chapel had now been restored to its original splendor.
Of course, the current owners of the fortress— lacking perhaps the piety of the Countess' great aunt— had little interest in utilizing the chapel for the purposes for which it had originally been constructed. The chapel was, however, occasionally used for other purposes and it was one of those purposes that the Countess intended to employ this day.
When Jason quietly entered Caroline's room that morning, he had a bemused smile of anticipation on his face. He knew what was going to happen in a very short while, and, to say he was looking forward to it, would have been a vast understatement.
The sun was streaming through the narrow slats of the shutters on the window of her room. Caroline lay on a large comfortable bed, still asleep. She was nude, of course,—her lovely body covered only by a thin cotton sheet. As he watched her sleep, he was struck again by her delicate beauty. Her face looked very peaceful.
He sat down on the bed next to her—the action causing her to start to stir in to wakefulness.
“Good morning, Caroline,” he said pleasantly.
Caroline opened her sleep-laden eyes and looked around the room. He could see the look of almost despair steal over her eyes as emerged from the sanctuary that sleep provided, realized where she was, and that her ordeal was still continuing.
She spoke in a timid, frightened voice that he found very appealing.
“G... Good morning, Master.”
Jason gently grasped the hem of the sheet covering her body and pulled it down revealing her nakedness. She lowered her head and shut her eyes. Obediently, she spread her legs for him, as she was expected to do. It was a lesson in humility she had previously learned at a very painful price.
For the next several minutes, Jason amused himself by gently stroking her lovely body—teasing her sensitive nipples until they were hard and erect. His hands moved lower, across her silky belly, to the exposed vista of her vulva. Soon, her clitoris was being skillfully caressed and stimulated by Master Jason's hand.
At first, he could see her struggling to avoid succumbing to the sensuous sensations of his touch—her body stiff and tense. As he continued, however, she reluctantly relaxed. He heard a low moan escape her lips and felt an involuntary wetness cover his probing fingers. Soon, she was moving her hips slowly, sensuously, against his hand—giving in totally to the erotic stimulation his touch was eliciting within her.
He watched with amusement as her moans became more intense and as her thrusting pelvis ground lewdly against his hand. He smiled when an intense orgasm finally spread through her body. Slowly it passed, and he watched as the look of passion on her face faded— quickly replaced by one of shame and embarrassment at the intimate wantonness her body's lust had just displayed to the wicked Jason Vanwell.
“Well, my little slut,” he said tauntingly, “After that little display, I expect you've worked up an appetite.”
Caroline blushed.
Jason stepped into the hallway and returned carrying a tray with her morning meal upon it. Instead of allowing her to eat her meal in peace, however, Jason chose to feed her. He would tear pieces off of the croissant and hold it before her lips. The sight of the lovely nude woman straining like a hungry puppy to capture these morsels of food was most amusing to him and he knew it added greatly to her degradation.
When she had been fed, he unlocked the door to he adjoining bathroom so that she might perform her morning ablutions. She had been denied the use of these facilities since the previous evening, and so, she was in some distress. As always, he enjoyed the spectacle of his lovely, debased, captive squatting over the low Turkish toilet while an amber stream dribbled wetly from between her legs into the bowl below. At times like these, he wished he possessed the skills of a sculptor so that he might carve in stone a fountain of the lovely Miss Martin performing this intimate task. It would be a wonderful addition to Aziz's garden, he thought with a smile....
He watched as she went about her other morning rituals. He knew it served to reinforce her status of a slave to be made to perform these intimate acts under his watchful gaze. Caroline worked silently, knowing she faced a severe punishment if her physical appearance was less than perfect and she took great pains to ensure that it met that standard.
When she was finished, Jason led her back to the bed chamber. While Caroline and Jason had been in the other room, one of the Countess' attendants had brought the outfit Caroline was to wear for the day's activities. Spread out on the bed, was a set of modest cotton undergarments, white cotton hose, a simple white cotton gown, and a starched cotton wimple and veil. It was a perfect replication of the outfit a novice in a religious order might wear. Caroline looked confused—not understanding the reason for this selection of clothing. Jason instructed her to put on the garments and watched her as she did so.
The effect was striking. Her lovely face, surrounded by the white fabric, appeared even younger and more innocent than it had been before. With her head slightly lowered she looked demure and vulnerable. Jason smiled....
“The Countess and I have noticed that you are turning into quite a wanton little slut, Caroline. She is quite concerned with this decay in your moral state and she has instructed me to take you to the chapel where you can reflect on your sins and seek a measure of spiritual pertinence.”
Caroline looked at him quizzically. A part of her wanted to protest this accusation. All the debauchery she had been exposed to since her arrival here had been imposed upon her against her will. She knew, however, that such protestations would only trigger retribution at Master Jason's hands and she knew all too well how painful that retribution was likely to be.
“Come along, Caroline,” Jason ordered.
She obediently followed him through the winding corridors of the Fortress until they came to a part of the building she had never seen before. They stopped before a heavy oak door and, with a large key, Jason unlocked the door. He directed Caroline inside.
It was almost like stepping back in time. The tiny chapel was cool and dark and the rough stone walls were damp—glistening with moisture. The room was rectangular in shape with a barrel vaulted ceiling and elaborate mosaics covered the floor. It was dimly lit— the only light coming from two narrow lancet windows and from the candles that flicked on the alter at the opposite end of the chapel. A wooden kneeler had been placed before the alter rail. Jason led Caroline to it and ordered her to kneel.
“I will return in a little while after you've had the opportunity to reflect on your sins.”
Jason left. The heavy door shut behind him and Caroline could hear the key being inserted into the lock and locked. She was alone....
In the quiet stillness of the ancient chapel, Caroline soon found herself deep in thought as she reviewed the events that had brought her to this place. She recognized that she had, in her youthful arrogance, been somewhat shabby in the way she had played with the emotions of the various men she had known in London. Still, she felt, nothing she might have done had earned her the horrible treatment and abuse she had been subjected to since her arrival at the Fortress. A wave of self-pity washed over her and she felt the tears well up in her eyes.
The manner in which she was attired made her think of purity and chastity. After all that had happened to her—the physical defilements that had been imposed upon her lovely body—she realized that purity and chastity were qualities that had been taken from her forever. How she wished she could somehow feel clean again!
Although not religious by nature, after several hours, the somber setting of the chapel soon worked upon her and she found herself praying silently for deliverance for this place. If only she might somehow be given the opportunity to pick up the pieces of her shattered life, she vowed that—if given the opportunity—she would try harder to be better in her treatment of others.
At just that moment, the door to the chapel swung open with a crash. Jason and the Countess entered and Caroline's eyes widened with surprise as she saw how they were attired.
Jason Vanwell was dressed in a somber, flowing, black cassock of a priest. The Countess was attired as a Mother Superior in a full wimple, veil, and habit. She looked strangely terrifying in the stark black and white outfit with only her crimson red lips giving color to her visage.
“So,” she shouted, “This is where the little whore is hiding! I thought so! Father Jason has made a rather serious accusation against you and I intend to find out the truth of the matter.”
“W... What do you mean?” Caroline asked, her voice trembling in terror.
“Silence! As a novice you should know better to speak to the Mother Superior in that tone of voice. Fr. Jason....”
Jason yanked Caroline from the kneeler and pulled her upright. He then quickly draped her body over the alter rail, tied her wrists to the corners of the alter, and then pulled her legs widely apart securing her ankles to the spindles of the alter rail.
The Countess spoke. “Fr. Jason has told me that you attempted to use that pretty body of yours to try to seduce him and make him violate his vows of celibacy. Are you prepared to confess you sin, whore?”
Caroline looked at the Countess in frightened disbelief. This was so absurd that she couldn't speak.
“All right. I see we will have take sterner measures to persuade you to make your confession. Fr. Jason....”
Jason grasped the fabric of her gown and, with a vicious rip, tore it from her body. He then shredded her cotton knickers and left them hanging in tatters from her waist. Her delectable naked ass was totally exposed.
The Countess picked up a whalebone riding crop and, with great skill, brought it squarely across her naked bottom. The pain was horrendous and Caroline shrieked in pain. Giving her no respite, The Countess rained repeated blows down on her out thrust ass—each blow leaving an angry red welt across the Caroline's creamy white bottom cheeks. Her fetching little bum was soon criss-crossed with a mosaic of painful, agonizing marks.
“Are you....”
Thwackkkkk.... The crop landed painfully.
“Ready....”
Thwackkkkk....
“To confess....”
Thwackkkkkk....
“Your sins?”
Thwackkkkk....
Caroline was screaming herself hoarse from the pain of the whipping and the tears were streaming down her cheeks. Finally, she couldn't stand the pain any longer.
She sobbed out, “A... All right, I confess. Just, please, I beg you, stop....”
“Do you want Father Jason to fuck your cunt, you little whore?”
Thwackkk....
“NOOOOO!!!!!” Caroline screamed. “Then, do you want to suck him off, cunt?” Thwackk.... “NOOOO!!!!!
The Countess stopped and, with a wicked smile on her face, hissed at the girl.
“Since you don't want him to fuck your cunt and you don't want to suck him off, that leaves just one thing—you must want him to fuck you right up you tight little asshole, don't you, slut?”
“Oh, dear God!!! NO!!!!” Caroline screamed. “Not THAT, I beg you!!!!!!!!!”
The Countess brought her whip squarely across the girl's well whipped ass.
“Silence!!!! Don't you dare lie to me, whore!”
She bent her face close to Caroline's and hissed, “If that's what you want, cunt, that's just what you'll get.... Fr. Jason?”
Jason Vanwell, smiling broadly, pulled his black cassock over his head and removed it. He was totally nude beneath it and his cock was jutting out—angry looking and fully erect....
The terrified girl was pleading with the Countess, “Mercy! Mercy! Please! I beg you.... Please....”
“This is the only mercy I'll show you, you little whore.”
The Countess yanked Caroline's well-whipped bottom cheeks apart revealing the tightly clenched rosette of her anus. She bent over the girl and parted her lips, allowing a stream of saliva to dribble from her mouth to the girl's rectum.
“Since you're still a virgin back there, I expect you'll be a little tight. That should make it somewhat easier for you,” the Countess said to the girl.
“While Jason buggers your tight little bottom, I have something I want you to do that may help take your mind off any discomfort you might be feeling.”
The Countess climbed on top of the alter and lay back upon it. She placed one leg on either side of the girl's head and drew her skirt up above her waist. Beneath her habit, she was wearing a pair of black hose held up by crimson garters and was otherwise nude. Her cunt, wet with arousal, was just inches from Caroline's face. She put one hand upon the girl's head and pulled it to her hungry gash. With her other hand, the Countess spread her meaty, fur-lined, labia.
“Now, suck!” she ordered.
The girl—totally terrified—complied, her pink tongue snaking into the older woman's flowing cunt.
Caroline felt Jason pulling her bottomcheeks apart and then felt the oozing head of his cock touch her anus. Her body stiffened. She tried to pull her face away from the Countess' cunt so she could beg him to stop but the older woman's grip was far too strong. Jason thrust forward into Caroline's virgin asshole.
The Countess could hear and feel Caroline's muffled scream from between her legs. She tightened her grip on the girl's head as Jason pulled back slightly and then drove even deeper into the poor girls bowels.
“Is she tight, Jason,” she asked, as she ground her gushing cunt against Caroline's face.
“Like a velvet glove,” Jason said, a blissful smile spread across his face. He drove deeper inside her.
He thrust into her fully, as Caroline screamed in agony. Soon, he was rhythmically fucking the auburn-haired beauty's bunghole—listening to her muffled squeals of pain and humiliation as she was brutally sodomized. Jason continued his brutal ravishment of the auburn-haired beauty. Soon, he felt a truly memorable orgasm swelling in his loins and his excitement built to an unstoppable climax.
“OH, YES, YOU LITTLE SLUT!!!!” he screamed, as his cock erupted—shooting thick jets of gism deep into Miss Caroline Martin's bottom. Simultaneously, the Countess reached her climax—her flowing cunt gushing wetness over the tormented girl's face.
After their last waves of pleasure ebbed, Jason pulled out of Caroline's rectum and the Countess stepped away from the girl. The nearly naked girl was still draped obscenely across the alter, sobbing—Jason Van-well's warm gism oozing from her ravaged rectum. The only sound in the room was that of her pitiful cries. She was totally lost in her misery....
Caroline's head was jerked up by the Countess' hand. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she looked at her dark-haired tormenter. The Countess had stripped off her nun's habit and was now clad only in her wimple and veil, a crimson corset, and her heels and hose. What was most terrifying for poor Caroline was what the Countess wore around her waist.
Jutting out from between the older woman's alluring thighs, was a huge strap on dildo—larger in size than even Jason's ample member. Caroline knew it would rip her apart.
“Oh, my god....” she whispered in pure terror.
The Countess stepped behind the girl and positioned the head of it at Caroline's recently ravaged bunghole. She bent over and whispered tauntingly into the girl's ear:
“Now its my turn....”
Caroline Martin's final two weeks at the Fortress were designed to finish the Countess' careful training by adding a degree of intensity to the program that would leave an indelible impression on the girl and prepare her for what awaited her when she was delivered into the hands of her ultimate Master.
For the man who is fortunate enough to serve as her trainer, this is a busy period, but also an enjoyable one. By this time, the girl has mastered the preliminaries of sexual servitude and can now be subjected to more advanced and infinitely more interesting activities. Still, she is enough of a novice at these tasks that her shame and humiliation are nearly overpowering. For a true sadist like me, that makes for a most enjoyable time.
Miss Caroline Martin's recent introduction to buggery, for example, had been a most pleasurable event. I was most anxious to continue exploring this topic in greater depth with the fetching Miss Martin.
After I brought Caroline back to her cell following her time in the chapel, I again applied the Countess' marvelous unguent to the areas of her charming anatomy that had most directly felt the full force of our attentions. I made certain to apply a liberal coating of the salve to my fingers and work them up the still tender channel of her rectum. She winced in pain and humiliation at this digital probing of this most recently violated orifice.
Her delightful asshole was also my first target during my visit the following morning. I visited her cell and instructed the naked girl to get on her hands and knees. I could see the fear in her eyes, but she obediently complied.
She was lovely kneeling there before me. Her delectable ass was most prominently displayed and its smooth surface—still showing evidence of the yesterday's whipping in the network of faint red welts that still crisscrossed it—was most inviting. With her legs nicely spread, the pouting lips of her cunt were clearly visible, surrounded by her smooth, shaved pubic mound. The tightly clenched rosette of her anus was also very nicely displayed. It looked slightly swollen and tender from the previous night's activities.
Her tits hung below her chest—perfect globes that swayed gently with each breath—and her auburn colored hair hung down around her face, almost like a veil. It was a wonderfully submissive pose—almost an invitation to violation.
“I heartily enjoyed fucking your tight little bunghole last evening, my dear Caroline. A girl's first time is always particularly enjoyable. Did you find it to be a pleasurable experience?”
She answered with a pitiful sob....
“Did you?” I asked sharply, twisting my fingers into her hair, and pulling her head back painfully so I could look into her red-rimmed eyes.
“N... nooo, Master!!!!” she sobbed. “I... it hurt so much... I must be very small.... back there.... I... tried not to cry but.... but I couldn't help myself....”
She looked totally debased and humiliated. I looked into her eyes and smiled. As gently as I could I spoke to her.
“Your new Master will expect to be quite proficient in the art of buggery, my dear, and you are going to require a great deal of additional practice. In just a little while, I'm going to fuck your charming little asshole again now, Caroline. To show you my kindness, I'll let you suck my cock before I put it in you. If you get it good and wet with your saliva, it might not hurt so much....”
Caroline sobbed as I opened my robe and slowly rubbed my erect and oozing member across her face.
“Now, suck!” I ordered.
She obediently began. I lay back on her bed. It was enchanting to see how eager she was—her mouth and tongue working vigorously over my tool. I knew she was trying to get it as wet as she could before my promised anal assault began. Her head was bobbing up and down—her nose pressed into my curly mass of my pubic hair—while her satiny tongue vigorously lapping the sensitive surface of my cock. I suspected she was trying to bring me off—to make me spurt in her charming mouth so she could avoid being buggered. I was much too smart for that.... Still, it was a most enjoyable experience to be the object of such enthusiastic efforts.
As Caroline's mouth and tongue continued to bathe my cock with her delightful oral caresses, I heard the door to Caroline's room open. It was the Countess dressed in a black lace peignoir. She sat on the bed next to us.
“So, the little whore can't keep away from your splendid cock, can she?”
I laughed and told her that this was merely a prelude to another bout of buggery. The Countess looked quite pleased. I sensed that she had something in mind to add to the girl's torment.
Caroline's delightful naked bottom was beautifully displayed for the Countess. As our lovely captive continued her oral ministrations to my member, the Countess worked two of her fingers deep inside the girl's vagina. She began moving them rhythmically in and out of the girl's cunt.
Soon, the Countess added another finger and then another. Caroline's body stiffened and I could hear her moaning in discomfort as her tight little cunt was stretched terribly. The Countess then added her thumb to her fingers and slowly attempted to push her entire hand into Caroline's vagina. I could see the tears streaming down the girl's cheeks and her brow was knitted in agony. Her vaginal sheath was stretched atrociously as the widest part of the Countess' fist pushed into the sobbing girl. I had to firmly grasp her by her hair to hold her in place on my throbbing cock. The Countess' entire hand was now deep inside Caroline.
For several agonizing minutes, Caroline's pussy was battered repeatedly by the Countess' thrusting fist. Finally, she stopped. The dark-haired woman painfully pulled her hand from the wet clasp of Caroline's cunt. It glistened with the girl's vaginal wetness.
“Jason, I think its time for the little whore to allow you to again enjoy the delights of her snug little asshole, don't you agree?”
The Countess suggested and I heartily agreed that it would be amusing to have Caroline do most of the work in this degrading endeavor. I laid back comfortably on the bed with my rock-hard cock jutting out from my groin. It glistened with a mixture of my pre-ejaculatory fluid and Caroline's saliva. We then instructed the girl to kneel with her bottom towards me, pull her lower cheeks apart, and slowly impale herself on my member.
It was a most interesting spectacle to see the girl— her face streaked with tears of shame—carry out my command. With a look of total humiliation on her face, she slowly lowered her snug little anus down over my thick, rigid, shaft.
The Countess grasped Caroline's right nipple and gave it a vicious twist. The girl screamed in pain.
“Now, fuck him, whore!” she ordered.
Caroline, sobbing with shame, complied. The Countess amused herself by forcing her hand and fingers that had been deep in the girl's vagina into her mouth and having her lick them clean, as she slowly fucked my cock with her delectable ass. If the Countess felt she was flagging in her efforts, another sharp twist on Caroline's nipples soon spurred her on.
It was a most enjoyable experience and I soon rewarded Caroline's efforts with a huge deposit of sticky, hot, gism deep in her bowels. I pulled out of her.
Caroline looked enchanting kneeling submissively before me with the tears flowing down her cheeks. She timidly reached back with one hand to touch her ravaged anus and try to ease the pain she was feeling.
The Countess smiled warmly. “She's learning, Jason. She's learning....”
Although the Caroline didn't know it, the time for her departure from the Fortress Ben-Abar was at hand. The Countess summoned the girl to her private quarters for one final encounter.
She lay on her lavish bed clad in a flowing black silk robe that only served to accent her dark and terrible beauty. A fire crackled in the fireplace....
Jason Vanwell escorted the auburn-haired beauty to the foot of the Countess's bed. Caroline was dressed modestly in an attractive silk blouse and conservative jacket and skirt. She could never feel comfortable in the presence of this woman who had inflicted so much pain and humiliation upon her, and so she stood uneasily at the foot of her bed with her eyes downcast. The Countess spoke:
“I have some news for you, Caroline, which you may find interesting. Today you will be leaving us, my dear, journeying back to London.”
Momentarily Caroline's eyes brightened as she realized that she would be leaving this dreadful place—the scene of so much unpleasantness. For just an instant, her mind imagined that her long, degrading, ordeal might soon be over.
“Yes, Caroline,” the Countess said, “Soon you will be delivered to your new owner who, I assure you, is awaiting your arrival anxiously.”
Caroline felt her stomach tighten in fear—her momentary optimism quickly extinguished—as the unsettling prospect of what awaited her in London stole over her.
“I've truly enjoyed having you here, my pet. Despite the haughty arrogance you exhibited when you arrived, during your stay here you've turned into a most agreeable little slut. I'm sure your new owner will be most pleased with the results.”
“Nature was very kind to you, Caroline. Your lovely face, those deliciously firm titties, your wonderfully tight cunt and asshole all will, I'm certain, give him great satisfaction and I expect he will make ample use of all of those enchanting parts of your anatomy. You have, my dear, a body made to be debauched and violated....”
Caroline felt her cheeks redden as she listened to herself being described in this graphic manner.
“I truly wish I might be present when he finally has the opportunity to use all of your body's natural endowments for his personal pleasure. It should be an amusing spectacle—pleasurable for him, certainly, but for you, less so, I suspect....”
“I will miss you, Caroline. I say that quite honestly, my dear. I will miss the look of shame and outrage in you eyes—the tears of humiliation—as we subjected you to some fresh indignity. I will miss the sound of your anguished pleas for mercy and your desperate cries of pain as we inflicted some new and imaginative punishment on your lovely body. I will especially miss the total sense of control over every aspect of your person as you reluctantly and tearfully performed the full range of deviant acts we demanded of you.”
Caroline was sobbing softly now as her cruel tormentor continued to recount every debasement she had been subjected to.
“I, for one, will especially miss the delightful feel of your wet little tongue, Caroline—caressing my clit, lapping the flowing juices from the mouth of my cunt, and probing the tight recesses of my asshole. I know quite well how very unpleasant you found all that to be, Caroline. But it was your very disdain for it that made it so much more enjoyable for me. The look of total revulsion and defeat in your eyes when I compelled you, against your will, to engage in such pleasurable activities was a most powerful aphrodisiac for me—an almost intoxicating one.”
“In fact, my dear, before you begin your long journey, I would like you to have you serve me in this manner for me one last time. It will be your way of thanking us for the training we have given you and the erotic skills you have acquired during your stay here. I can assure you, those skills will serve you well when you are delivered to your new owner.”
She undid the belt of her robe and pulled the garment off of her body. But for a pair of sheer black hose, she was totally nude. She spread her legs widely apart—the wet pink gash of her cunt yawning open.
With a hungry, lust-filled voice, the Countess whispered to the girl, “Come here, Caroline. Show Jason everything you've learned....”
Caroline hesitated for just a moment—a natural reaction to such a demeaning command—but then, knowing all too well the painful cost of disobedience, she uttered a sob of despair and reluctantly crawled slowly onto the bed. The Countess reached down between her legs and pulled the fleshy, fur-lined lips of her vulva widely apart revealing the glistening pink vista of her inner cunt—the swollen button her clitoris erect and clearly visible. Caroline—the tears on shame now freely flowing—moved her face closer to her target....
While Jason Vanwell stood beside the bed watching intently what was transpiring upon it, Caroline Martin orally serviced her cruel tormentor for a final time in this most intimate manner. Caroline remained fully clothed—an amusing variation on what might normally be expected, but one which only served to add to the humiliation of the girl. Jason smiled as he felt his lust growing from the erotic spectacle taking place before his eyes. He realized that, regrettably, he would not have the opportunity to again satisfy that lust with the lovely Caroline's body, but he knew that his next victims—victims who were now going about their normal lives totally unaware of what was about to befall them—would, in the very near future, soon feel the full force of that pent-up lust. His extraordinary self-disciple would prevail until that time came and would only make his release, when it came, that much more intense and enjoyable.
Knowing that this would be the last session she would have with the girl, the Countess prolonged it for as long as possible. She was moaning with excitement—her face an almost animal mask of pure arousal as she enjoyed Caroline's enforced oral efforts. She achieved one quick but satisfying orgasm from Caroline's attentions to her clit and then rolled over on her stomach, spread her legs widely apart, elevated her hips, and directed the girl to shift her oral efforts to the sensitive bud of her anus. To aid poor Caroline in her task, the Countess relaxed her sphincter muscle as much as was possible to permit the girl deeper access to the hidden recesses of that orifice. The feel of Caroline's satiny tongue deep in that sensitive portion of the Countess' anatomy felt truly wonderful and only added to her already considerable arousal.
She again turned over on her back, twisted her fingers into Caroline's flowing auburn hair and pulled the girl's mouth closer to her cunt. The Countess—nearing yet another powerful orgasm—vigorously ground her pussy over her captive's straining face. Caroline was panting with exertion and tears of shame were streaming down her cheeks. The rhythmic grinding of the Countess' pussy was matched by a crescendo of moans of ever-increasing passion.
Finally, it reached its peak. The Countess' body stiffened, as she pulled the girl's face deep into her cunt nearly suffocating Caroline. Emitting a long, blissful scream of joy, an intense orgasm tore through her body. The wave crested powerfully and then slowly receded. The Countess loosened her grip on Caroline's hair. The only sound in the room was that of the girl's muffled sobs.
Caroline looked up at the Countess with frightened, defeated eyes. Her face glistened with the moisture that had flowed from the older woman's gushing cunt.
The Countess, her cheeks flushed with contentment, spoke:
“Ah, Caroline, that was truly wonderful. I will miss you more than you can possibly imagine. As a reminder of the time you spent between my legs, Caroline, I won't allow you wash your face. That way each breath you take on your journey home will cause you to remember the intense joy and satisfaction you gave me with your most talented tongue.”
“Now, there remains just one matter take care of.”
The Countess nodded to Jason who quickly sprang into action. Without warning, he roughly grabbed Caroline's wrist and twisted it behind her. He pulled the girl to her feet and led her to the Countess' writing table. He then pushed her head down until it resting against the cool wooden surface.
The Countess, still naked, leapt out of bed and walked to the table. She quickly slipped a pair of manacles on each of the girl's wrists and then attached them to the legs of the table capturing the girl in a prone position. She then walked behind her bound captive and similarly secured Caroline's ankles.
Caroline felt the dark-haired woman lifting the hem of her skirt up and carefully tucked it up into the garment's waistband. She, next, felt the woman's fingers slide into the waistband of her panties and slowly pull the silky garment down her legs. The creamy white globes of Caroline's bottom were totally exposed.
The Countess reached down and sensuously ran her hands over Caroline's bottom. Working one of her hands between Caroline's asscheeks, she began to lewdly fondly the exposed womanly treasures that she found there. She spoke, slowly twisting her fingers into Caroline's cunt and asshole—her thumb caressing the girl's clit.
“When you came to us, Caroline, you became a part of something far larger than you can imagine. We are just a small part of that much larger organization. As you might have gathered from some of your training, many young women have proceeded you here and, my dear, others will shortly follow you....”
“There is, you see, an almost insatiable need for the type of product our organization provides, and the number of wealthy individuals throughout the world willing to pay for the service we provide is far larger than you can possibly imagine. Wealth brings power, Caroline, and powerful persons can do almost anything they wish. Many years ago, these powerful interests formed Rio 9, the organization that runs this facility and which arranged for your capture.”
“We will shortly be delivering you to your new owner. Rest assured, he has paid a suitably hefty fee to the organization for the pleasure of your company. I expect he will make certain that he gets his money's worth in the pleasures he will demand from you. He will be totally free to use you however he wishes, Caroline. Anything he desires, anything he demands of you, you will be expected to provide. Your right to refuse him anything he wishes ended with you capture.”
“You will, I assure you, find much of it to be most unpleasant—some of it will be painful. Much of it will be degrading and humiliating—especially to someone with your upper-class background and values, Caroline. Nonetheless, you will be expected to submit to it all, my dear. Or else face some rather painful consequences....”
“In time, Caroline, your new Master may tire of you. It often happens. And if it does, rest assured that the organization will find a new use for you.”
“You see, Caroline, in your own way you have become a part of this organization. And you will never, ever, be permitted to leave it....”
Caroline was sobbing in terror as she listened helplessly to the Countess. The dark-haired woman withdrew her hands from Caroline's lower openings and walked around in front of her. From the desk, she took a pair of heavy leather gloves and pulled them on. Her beautiful, naked, body shimmered in the light of the flickering fire.
“I mentioned to you that many women have proceeded you, Caroline. Each of these women, no matter where they came from or where they eventually were sent, have much in common. In addition to the shared heritage of pain and humiliation they have all endured, they have something else in common, Caroline. Each of them, you see, also wears the mark of Rio 9 upon their bodies.”
From the corner of her terror-filled eyes, Caroline saw Jason walk to the fireplace, bend over, and pick up a metal rod. He carefully handed it to the Countess. The end of it was a glowing a bright carnelian color....
“NO!!!!...no.... please....” the girl whimpered as the reality of what was about to happen to her struck her.
The Countess walked back behind Caroline still carrying the glowing iron.
“Soon, Caroline, anyone looking on your lovely naked body will see a small circular design burned forever on your pretty bottom cheek, and anyone who is a part of our organization, will know what you are, what you have become, and what you will always be—a slave. A slave whose very existence is dependent upon the mercy of your owner. This mark is a symbol that you have joined the women that proceeded you and that you have become an inseparable part of Rio 9. Are you ready to receive it, my pet?”
“No!!!!... oh, God, no....please...!!!!!”, the terrified girl pleaded.
The Countess moved the iron closer to its target. Caroline could feel the heat coming off of the iron when it was still inches away.
“PLEASE!!! NO!!!!! DON'T!!!!!!!” Caroline screamed.
The Countess pressed the glowing iron against Caroline's naked bottom....
There was a soft hiss and Caroline's face momentarily took on a quizzical look. Then the full force of the pain hit her. A frightful scream exploded out of her. Her face was contorted with agony, as every muscle in her body stained against her immovable restraints in a desperate effort to escape the horrible flame that was eating into her sensitive bottom flesh. The Countess held the iron firmly in place—a wicked smile upon her face.
Abruptly, Caroline's screams stopped and her body went limp, as she passed out from the agonizing pain she was experiencing. After a few moments, the Countess pulled the rapidly cooling iron away from Caroline's bottom. The mark it had left on her bottom cheek—small as it was—was red and angry looking. The Countess smiled at the results...
She then went to a cabinet and got a hypodermic needle ready. The needle was loaded with a powerful soporific which would keep Caroline unconscious throughout her long journey. She injected it into the girl's thigh. The Countess next picked up a small glass jar and proceeded to spread a soothing salve on Caroline's burn. It was a special ointment that would help the wound to heal quickly.
She then walked to the bed and, as she put her robe back on over her lovely naked body, spoke to Jason.
“Ah, Jason. I will miss her. You've done a truly splendid job with her and I'm certain Sir Basil will be most pleased with her. I trust everything is in readiness for your journey?”
“Indeed, Countess. The lorry is out in front and Aziz and a helper are downstairs with the shipping container. Once we will load her into it, we'll be off. We have a long trip ahead of us.”
The Countess walked to unconscious girl. She bent down and kissed her full upon her lips.
“Good bye, my little pet.”
The Countess walked to the door and looked back at Jason.
“Have a safe trip, Jason, my friend.”
Jason walked to the bound girl. He dropped to one knee behind her. In unconsciousness, Caroline's alluring pussy and ass were still totally exposed before him. Jason bent over her, gripped her bottomcheeks, and pulled them widely apart. As his parting gift to his lovely pupil. Jason lowered his mouth to the girl's bottom and slowly ran his tongue over the exposed cleft of her womanhood—from her clitoris to her anus— leaving a wet trail of saliva over her most sensitive and intimate flesh.
When he was finished, he pulled her panties up, lowered her skirt, and undid the cuffs that bound her to the desk. Then, for a final time, he carried the slumbering girl in his arms through the ancient corridors of the Fortress Ben-Abar.
Aziz and another helper were waiting patiently in the parlor below, as Jason made his final preparations readying the girl for her journey. Soon, they were on their way. The clouds of dust from the lorry obscured the view of the Fortress which, as they drove on, seemed to slowly grow smaller in the distance behind them.
Her training was now over. Miss Caroline Martin was on her way home....
Tonight.... Tonight she will be mine! I have been in state of excited anticipation every since I learned of the scheduled arrival time of the lovely Miss Caroline Martin. Two weeks ago, I learned from Lady Fiona of the day in which she was scheduled to be delivered. Obviously, there was much to do in preparation for her arrival but, in spite of this, the days still seemed to drag by with agonizing slowness.
If the days were long, however, the nights were endless. Sleep constantly eluded me as lascivious images of the lovely Miss Martin—naked—debased and degraded—danced endlessly in my fertile imagination.
For the entire time since I learned of the scheduled date of her arrival, I have had the erection of a stallion in full rut. Even my most frenzied attempts to abate my lust through self-stimulation have proved unsuccessful.
Last week, in an to attempt to ease the throbbing arousal I was feeling, I visited my favorite brothel and selected a young whore named Leslie for an afternoon repast. My reason for selecting this particular girl was simple—the little tart bore a passing resemblance to my Caroline. In my imagination, Leslie would become Caroline and I would inflect upon her lovely body some of the activities I had planned for the alluring Miss Martin.
I paid the Madame the my usual fee and she whispered a few words of instruction to Leslie. The girl and I then retired to one of the lavish chambers upstairs. I undressed and lay back comfortably on the bed. My cock was rock-hard and throbbing—pointed up at the ceiling like a lance. Then, at my command, the blond wench stripped totally naked and stood before me. Using the foulest, most degrading language I could come up with, I told her in graphic detail what was in store for her. Her eyes widened in genuine fear as she listened to me.
To begin with, I had the little cunt fellate me. She had a talented mouth and knew how to utilize the natural talents she possessed. She sucked me most enthusiastically. I delighted in driving deep into her mouth and listening to her pant with exertion and gag as my cock thrust deep into her gullet.
Eventually tiring of this enjoyable activity, I then put Leslie on her knees before me and made her offer her alluring cunt up to me. From behind, my prick drove into her brutally, fucking her without mercy. After a while, she was begging me to stop. Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she looked up at me— terrorized by the savagery of my assault. Never in her extensive experience as a whore had she been ravaged quite so ruthlessly. Still, I didn't show her a trace of mercy.
I peeled off some additional notes from my money roll and told her I wanted to take her over my knee and give her naked bottom a sound thrashing. Reluctantly, she agreed. Before I began, however, I spent several enjoyable minutes lewdly caressed her tempting bottom globes—teasing and probing the tight little grommet of her asshole that lay defenseless between those orbs. Then I went to work on the tempting target arrayed before me.
Soon she was screaming in pain as, with my hand, I blistered her alluring bottom. The tears were streaming down her cheeks and her bum was a fiery shade of red. My cock was ram-rod stiff....
I tossed some more notes at her and told I now wanted to bugger her. She sobbed in fear but reluctantly agreed. As she lay face down on the bed, I pulled the glowing red cheeks of her bottom apart revealing the tightly clenched ring of her rectum. I climbed atop her....
In all, I had paid her about three times her normal fee and I made certain she earned every shilling of it. I whispered an unending litany of obscenities in her ear as I drove into her. The image of Caroline Martin danced before my eyes as I buggered poor Leslie. Thinking of the crudest, most demeaning degradations I could inflict upon sweet Caroline, I exploded deep in Leslie bottom, scalding her bowels with my fiery gism.
I left Leslie lying naked on the bed, sobbing in pain and humiliation. By the time I dressed and left the brothel, my cock was again fully erect in anticipation of the perversities I intended to shortly inflict on the haughty Miss Caroline Martin.
Tonight!
Tonight—she would, at last, be mine!!!
In the early morning, the Ford Tri-Motor airplane rumbled noisily down the dusty runway in Casablanca and took off headed in a northeasterly direction. Across the narrow mouth of the Mediterranean Sea, it made its way slowly to its first stop in Madrid. After refueling, it was quickly airborne once again. The Pyrenees glided majestically beneath the wings of the plane in the bright mid-day sun. After a second stop in Lyon, it then flew on to Paris. After taking on more fuel, the plane began its final hop—across the English Channel to London.
In the back of the plane was a handsome silver-haired man dressed in the sober garb of an Anglican cleric. His passport revealed him to be one Father Jason Andrews and, on the plane's manifest, it was disclosed that he was escorting the body of his elderly aunt— Miss Constance Andrews—back to London for burial, the poor woman haven been tragically stricken during a holiday in northern Africa. Fr. Andrew's sorrowful expression dissuaded any of the other passengers from attempting conversation with the man who spent most of the journey reading from a leather-bound copy of the Book of Common Prayer.
In fact, the sorrowful vicar was Jason Vanwell and the book he was reading was actually a ribald tale of debauchery that would have made the Marquis de Sade blush. Had any of the local officials carefully inspected the ornate casket in the back of the plane, they would have found, hidden amongst its elaborate carvings, a series of cleverly concealed ventilation holes. And, if for some unknown reason those same officials had opened that casket, they would have found resting on the tufted satin lining, not the corpse of a deceased, elderly woman, but the lush and heavily sedated body of the beautiful Miss Caroline Martin.
Of course, no one sought to investigate what, or rather who, was in that casket. Rio 9 had skillfully and discretely used its financial resources and influence to ensure that all went smoothly. At the London airport, the local officials were most helpful in loading the heavy casket into a waiting hearse and in seeing that the grieving Fr. Andrews cleared Customs easily.
The hearse bearing the casket and Fr. Andrews drove through the London countryside. At the edge of London, it pulled into a warehouse secretly owned by Rio 9. Once inside, the casket was removed and opened. The heavily drugged girl's body was removed and placed on a day-bed. An elderly doctor—himself a member in good standing in the organization—was on hand to carefully inspect Miss Martin and ensure that she had made it through the journey unscathed.
Also at the warehouse, was Lady Fiona Savage who would accompany Jason as the delivery was made to Sir Basil. She had brought two of her personal attendants to assist in the final preparations of making Caroline ready to be delivered to her new owner.
They carefully removed the girl's rumpled travelling clothes and began bathing the sleeping girl. Jason smiled as he gazed the nude body of the unconscious beauty laying before him. He felt a pleasant stirring in his loins as he recalled the intense erotic pleasures he had forcibly taken from that lovely body and those other delights she had reluctantly given to him.
Lady Fiona saw the hungry look on his face.
“Was she good, my friend?” she asked.
He smiled. “One of the very best, Fiona. Sir Basil is a very lucky man....”
Fiona's attendants finished the task of bathing the girl and then fitted her naked body into and expensive set of alluringly chic silken lingerie. A smartly tailored blouse, skirt, and high-heel pumps completed the ensemble. Finally, just the lightest application of makeup was applied to highlight the girl's abundant natural beauty. Fiona and Jason were satisfied with the results—Miss Caroline Martin was now ready to be delivered to her new own—the man who had paid dearly for the opportunity to posses this beauty totally and to make her his in every sense of the word.
She was carefully placed into a wooded crate which was nailed shut for the final leg of her journey. Jason noted the stenciled label on the side of the crate— 'IMPORTED CRYSTAL'. He smiled as he thought of Caroline Martin's delicate beauty. The label was somehow very appropriate....
Lady Fiona spoke to Jason, “So, my friend, after this delivery I understand you'll be off to Dublin to pick up the newest shipment for our American client. I trust the pleasant prospect of awaits you in the next few weeks will more than offset any feeling of regret you might have over dear Caroline's departure....”
Jason chuckled warmly as he imagined the erotic delights that the pair of lovely Irish girls would soon provide him. The image of the two red-haired sisters stripped naked and standing before him—trembling with shame and humiliation—was a most pleasant one....
“Its all in a day's work, Fiona....”
* * *
The lorry made its way through the darkening streets of London. Lady Fiona had driven ahead to attend to a few final details with Sir Basil. In addition to the slumbering girl in the wooden crate, two burly laborers rode in the back of the truck, while the driver and Jason Vanwell rode in the cab.
The wharves and warehouses gradually gave way to squalid working-class districts, then trim, middle-class neighborhoods, and finally to the elegant mansions of the wealthiest and most influential members of London society. In her former life, it was a neighborhood Miss Caroline would have known well.
On one of the most fashionable streets of the district, was located a large, elegant brick mansion constructed in the Gothic Revival style. The house, set in the middle of a large block—its nearest neighbor some distance away—was the home of Sir Basil Rothberg. Its location and its construction provided its owner with an appealing mixture of comfort and privacy.
The lorry pulled into a porte-cochere at the side of the building. They had arrived at their destination.
While Jason supervised the two laborers unloading the heavy wooden crate from the back of the lorry, Lady Fiona and Sir Basil retired to his study to attend to a few final matters. There were papers to be signed confirming the conditions of the sale and outlining the rights and responsibilities of each party in the transaction. There was also a matter of money to be exchanged.
A delectable woman of Miss Caroline Martin's quality and breeding bore a heavy cost, but its was a price that Sir Basil was more than will to pay. Of the £30,000, Sir Basil had previously paid £5,000 when he had made the initial arrangements with Lady Fiona prior to Caroline's abduction. An additional £10,000 was paid when he received news that her capture had been executed.
This evening he would pay Lady Fiona a second £10,000. The final payment would be made after a week had passed and Sir Basil had had the opportunity to sample the full spectrum of Caroline's erotic charms. At that time, if, for some reason, he wished to back out of the transaction, he could do so. This was a policy of Rio 9 and applicable to any purchaser. The organization would retain the £10,000 of the purchaser's fee to cover costs incurred in the girl's capture, shipment, and training. She would then be sold at auction and any profits would be split between the organization and the initial purchaser.
Judging from the hungry look of anticipation and the obvious and pronounced bulge in the front of Sir Basil's trousers, Lady Fiona was certain that there would be no difficulty in finalizing the sale after the week's trial period. Sir Basil's hands were noticeably trembling with excitement as he signed the final documents and gave Lady Fiona the payment due.
“Well, my friend,” Fiona asked with a coy smile on her face, “Are you ready to be reintroduced to the objects of your desire?”
She had to almost physically restrain him as he hurried to the parlor.
The still-slumbering Caroline Martin was seated in a chair in Basil Rothberg's parlor. Jason had just administered an injection to bring her back to consciousness when Fiona and Basil entered. Fiona introduced Sir Basil to Jason and they briefly exchanged pleasantries. The wealthy Londoner had, of course, previously seen films of Jason admirably performing his duties at the Fortress Ben-Abar and had great admiration for the considerable talents of Jason Vanwell. Understandably, however, Sir Basil's focus was on the auburn-haired beauty before him. She was just now beginning to stir....
Fiona and Jason moved to the side of the room to watch Caroline's reaction when she awakened. Sir Basil, meanwhile, had moved his chair opposite the girl and sat in it, permitting him to closely survey the magnificent creature that was now his.
Caroline slowly opened her eyes. She was still terribly disoriented and confused from the drugs—her mind was a jumble. She looked around the room to try to find a clue as to where she might be. Her eyes finally focused on the man seated opposite her—she knew him, but was having difficulty remembering his name. Still, she realized, she knew him from London. She must be there.... and if she was there, then perhaps the memory of the degrading ordeal she had recently experienced was merely a bad dream—a terrible nightmare.
As her mind continued to clear, she remembered the man's name—Sir Basil Rothberg. She seemed to vaguely remember that she disliked the man. She then became aware of something very odd—one of his hands was gently stroking her cheek.
She tried to speak—her tongue still heavy with the effects of the drugs. “W... What...?”
Then she became aware of something else—something far less pleasant—the man's other hand was beneath her skirt, freely stoking the satiny flesh of her inner thighs above her hose and lewdly fondling the silken crotch of her panties! Her mind cleared instantly....
“What are you doing?!!!” she cried indignantly and instinctively attempted to pull her legs together and bring her hands up to push this despicable man away from her. Her efforts were futile as she discovered with horror that her wrists and ankles were tightly bound to the arms and legs of the chair. A panicked feeling of total helplessness engulfed her.
At just that moment, Jason Vanwell—a cruel, bemused smile on his face, stepped before her. It all came back to her in an instant—all of the horror and degradations she had suffered the last several months at this man's hands. It was all real—and with a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach, she realized that it was not over, but was, in fact, just beginning.
Jason spoke, “Caroline, my dear, I'd like to introduce you to your new Master, Sir Basil Rothberg. But, of course, you do already know him, don't you?”
Caroline, her pitiful voice, choking with despair, spoke to Basil, “It... It was you...”
Sir Basil—his one hand continuing its lascivious caress beneath her skirt—slapped the girl smartly across her tear-streaked cheek with his other hand.
He hissed at her, “Yes, Caroline, you little whore, it was I. You have no idea how long I've waited for this day—waited to have you before me, like this— totally helpless to prevent me from doing whatever I wish to you—repaying you for the demeaning way you treated me and the other men you toyed with. Well, my dear, the shoe is now on the other foot, isn't it?”
Caroline was sobbing in terror now as Basil continued.
“I've seen films made of you during your training, Caroline—seen you stripped naked before Jason. I've seen your lovely nude body dancing beneath the cruel caress of his whip. And, yes, my dear, I've seen him make you use that lovely body to give his exquisite sexual pleasure. I know how terrible that must have been for someone like you—someone who once held such a high opinion of herself. Well, Caroline, my dear, I was the one who caused you to experience all of that. And, my sweet, all of that was just a foretaste of what I intend to do to you....”
Caroline's lovely body was racked with sobs as the tears streamed down her cheeks.
Jason spoke. “Basil, my good man, it might be enjoyable to have Caroline provide you with a little demonstration of some of the things she's learned during the time she spent with us at the Fortress. I know how anxious you must be to begin your enjoyment of Caroline's feminine charms, but rather than simply ripping her clothing off of her like a brute and then ravishing her, think how much more humiliating it will be for her to perform the task herself. I'm sure there will be time enough for ravishment in the coming days and, as one who has had the opportunity to engage in such a delightful activity with Caroline, I assure you, it will be worth the wait.”
Basil laughed heartily. “What a splendid idea, Jason. But I insist that you be the one to command her to do so. It will be an opportunity for me to see a true master and work and to learn from your extensive experience.”
“I'm very flattered, Basil,” Jason said modestly.
Basil and Jason presently untied the bonds around the auburn-haired beauty's wrists and ankles. Jason then commanded her to stand before the seated Basil who wore an expression of lustful glee on his face in anticipation of what was about to occur.
Jason spoke to the trembling beauty, “All right, Caroline. Legs apart and hands behind your neck! I hope during our short journey you haven't forgotten all that I taught you at the Fortress. That knowledge came at a rather high price, my dear, and I'm certain you aren't anxious to pay that price again to re-learn it, are you?”
“N... No, Master,” she whispered fearfully. She quickly assumed the position. It caused her skirt to ride alluringly up her thighs.
“Sir Basil has paid a substantial amount of money for the opportunity to have you serve him. It think its fitting that he should see what he's purchased, don't you.”
Caroline sobbed softly.
“Now, Caroline, I want you to reach down and grasp the hem of your skirt and slip and draw the garments up above your waist.”
Caroline, tearfully, did so and felt Basil's eyes intently scrutinizing her long, shapely legs—particularly that alluring expanse of exposed flesh between the top of her hose and the crotch of her panties. Jason kept her in this position for several minutes allowing the wealthy industrialist the opportunity to again reach out and caress her lovely inner thighs, as well as the silk-covered triangle of fabric that barely covered her womanhood. Caroline struggled to stay in the position and force herself to endure this unpleasant, lascivious fondling between her legs. Still, she knew all too well the painful price of disobedience.
“And to think, my dear Caroline, that you once where so bold as to slap poor Basil when he innocently placed his hand upon your knee,” Jason laughed cruelly.
“All right, Caroline. Now I want you to remove your skirt and blouse.”
Meekly, the girl reached to her side, undid the buttons on her skirt, and let the garment fall around her ankles. She stepped out of it. Basil noted with amusement the Caroline's hands were trembling as she undid the pearl buttons on her silken blouse and removed it. The room, with a hearty fire burning in the fireplace, was warm, but, he noted, Caroline's lovely now-exposed skin was covered with goose flesh.
“Now the half-slip, my dear,” Jason ordered.
Caroline complied and was presently clad only in a silken chemise, brassiere, panties, garters and hose. The garments only added to her alluring beauty—a beauty Sir Basil was savoring like a hungry man being offered a banquet.
“The chemise, Caroline.”
She reluctantly drew the garment over her head and dropped it beside her.
“She's lovely, isn't she, my dear friend?” Lady Fiona purred.
“Worth every shilling....” Basil answered, his voice husky with lust.
Miss Caroline Martin was, indeed a vision of loveliness standing submissively before Sir Basil, clad merely in the delicate silken wisps of her lingerie. She had, of course, frequently been compelled to reveal her intimate feminine charms to Jason or the Countess in recent weeks, but this somehow was far worse and much more humiliating. They had been total strangers to her and they viewed her merely as an object or a piece of property. Their cruel depravities were, however, almost understandable in this light. Sir Basil was, on the other hand different. She knew him and, of course, he knew her. He knew many of her friends and acquaintances and knew how highly she once viewed herself. It was, therefore, incalculably more degrading for the once-haughty girl to be made to submit, against her will, in this humiliating manner before him.
“Now your brassiere, Caroline,” Jason said softly.
She sobbed and shut her eyes in shame. Timidly, she reached behind her and undid the clasp on the garment and let it slide slowly down her arms. Jason could see that the girl desperately wanted to cover her nakedness—to cup her hands atop the lush globes to hide them from Basil's leering stare, but she had learned her lessons well at the Fortress. She stood with her hands at her side while Jason admire the lush loveliness of her naked globes.
“They're lovely, aren't they Basil? I encourage you to touch and stroke them, my friend. They're now yours, my friend, after all.”
Basil reached up and began caressing the full and desirable globes.
“You'll find they're very sensitive. And you'll find that skillful manipulation of her delightful nipples, can trigger a wonderful wetness between her legs—her body's wanton urges betraying any false claims of modesty the little whore might make.”
Caroline's cheeks were bright red in reaction to hearing herself discussed in this manner as well as from the sensation Basil's caresses were giving her. Basil pulled the girl closer to him so he could kiss her left nipple and draw it deep between his lips. Caroline sobbed.
“Of course, that sensitivity can also be tremendously valuable as a target for corrective training as well. I assume you received the shipment of punishment equipment we sent you last week. We selected those particular items especially for Caroline based on her experience with us at the Fortress. You'll find that she particularly dislikes having the whalebone switch applied to her breasts—understandable, given the severe pain that such a whipping can cause. Often the mere threat of it is enough to guarantee compliance with a demand. The small leather cat applied skillfully to her breast is also very effective.”
“The shipment additionally included a number of wonderful clamping devices that can be used most effectively on her breasts and nipples. Caroline particularly dislikes the small spring-loaded clamps with the saw-teeth. These also work particularly well between her legs when applied directly to her labia and clitoris. Adding small weights makes these clamps even more unpleasant.”
As Sir Basil continued to hungrily suck and lick Caroline's out-thrust nipples, Jason saw her clenching and unclenching her hands in a futile attempt to escape the unwanted erotic sensation that Basil's efforts were causing her to experience. Her head was turned to one side with her lovely auburn hair covering most of her shame-filled face. He could hear her sobbing softly.
After a while, Sir Basil stopped. He looked up a Jason with a contented smile upon his face.
“Shall we continue?” he said anxiously.
Jason issued the command the tormented Caroline knew was coming but one which she was dreading with all her soul. While Sir Basil Rothberg watched her every move, Caroline slipped her fingers into the waistband of her panties and—sobbing audibly—drew the skimpy garment down her shapely legs and stepped out of them.
Now clad only in her garters, hose, and heels, Caroline Martin, without waiting for Jason's command, placed her hands behind her neck and widely spread her long, lovely legs. The girl wore an expression of utter defeat on her lovely face. Jason smiled warmly at this sign of compliance. The seeds of obedience that had been planted during the training she had endured at the Fortress had obviously taken root in the sobbing beauty.
“She is magnificent, Jason,” Basil said with genuine awe in his voice as he gazed on Caroline's now exposed cunt.
“She is indeed, Basil. You will note that her pubic hair has been completely shaved. This removal is always done as a step in a girl's training program. To be denuded in this manner is tremendously humiliating for any girl and serves as a constant reminder to her of who now totally controls her body. I personally find it very enjoyable to see a woman shorn of this aspect of her femininity. It is particularly effective with a girl like Caroline who has such lush and full cuntlips. She did, however, once have a very alluring mound of fawn-colored curls that nicely matched those on her head. The choice as to whether she will be permitted to grow her pubic mane again is now yours, my good friend.”
“Caroline, spread your labia widely apart for Sir Basil,” Jason ordered.
Reluctantly, and with great difficulty, the degraded beauty did so. Basil smiled as he saw the swollen bud of her clit now standing erect and defenseless between the pale pink lips of her quim. Below, the mouth of her vagina gaped open wetly. He knew it was not arousal that caused this wetness, but fear and an overwhelming sense of shame and humiliation.
“Turn around, Caroline, and bend at the waist.”
The girl tearfully did so.
“Now, pull your asscheeks apart so Sir Basil can see that delightful little bunghole of yours.”
Caroline sobbed softly and, with her cheeks crimson with shame, complied.
“Might... Might I touch her, Jason?” Basil asked quietly.
Jason laughed heartily, “But of course, my friend. She is yours, after all.”
Basil smiled lustfully and then eagerly reached up and began gently stroking the alabaster flesh of her tempting bottom. Gradually he became bolder in his touch. His fingers were soon deep inside Caroline Martin's exposed openings. He could feel the girl's body stiffen at his brazen, intimate touch.
“You'll find, my dear Basil, that she is still very tight in both of her orifices. She had, at some point in her past, been deflowered vaginally, but I could tell she'd had very little experience there. As for her delicious little bunghole, she was a virgin there, until I had the delightful pleasure of giving her the first small taste of the joys of buggery. I'm certain it wouldn't be her last, will it, my friend?”
Basil, his fingers probing deep inside the sobbing girl, laughed heartily in agreement.
“As I said, Basil, you will soon find she is still very inexperienced in both places. I'm certain that you'll have many happy hours teaching her the subtle nuances of being fucked in both enchanting holes.”
As he had been describing to Basil all of Caroline Martin's charms, Lady Fiona Savage had walked to Jason's side. She placed one hand on his shoulder and pressed her lush body close to his. With her other hand she had reached down and, through his trousers, slowly stroked her colleague's magnificent organ to a wonderful erection.
She spoke to him. “Jason, my friend. It think it is time for us to leave these two alone and give Basil a chance to get to know Miss Caroline much, much, better.”
“You are quite right, my dear,” Jason said in agreement. “Its time for us to go.”
He walked to the two of them—Caroline standing naked with her legs spread widely, while Basil Rothberg's fingers continued their lewd exploration of her lower orifices. Her eyes were red-rimmed and filled with tears.
Jason bent over and kissed her full upon her lips— his tongue snaking deep into her mouth.
“Goodbye Caroline, my dear. Although I'm sure you feel quite differently than I do, I've truly enjoyed the time we shared together. I expect you to obey Sir Basil the way I would expect you to obey me. I assure you that any disobedience on your part will result in an equally unpleasant outcome—just as you would have experienced had you displeased me.”
Caroline's eye's searched deeply into his. She was clearly terrified. As horrible as the experience she had endured at Jason's hands, it was now familiar to her and she now feared it less than she did the uncertainty of what might lie before her with Sir Basil.
“Goodbye, Sir Basil. You are indeed a very lucky man.”
Fiona spoke, “Goodbye, Basil. I'll call you latter this week to see how things are progressing.”
They saw themselves out....
Basil stood up and, from his desk, withdrew a set of leather manacles and slave collar. Quickly he fitted them on the trembling nude beauty whose eyes were wide with fear. Her hands were cuffed behind her back and a leather leash was attached to the collar.
Sir Basil picked up a vicious looking whip, grasped the end of the leash, and spoke to the naked, frightened, girl.
“Come along, Caroline, my little whore. I have a special room downstairs where we won't be disturbed.
Although you won't enjoy it much, you will be spending a goodly amount of your time there. It's time I taught you a few long-overdue lessons in humility and submission....”
Jason Vanwell and Lady Fiona Savage drove to Fiona's elegant town-house. It was a long standing tradition that, after Jason completed each delivery, he and Fiona would get together for a little private celebration.
Both of them were, obviously, very adventurous, very skilled, sexual hedonists. They each had a voracious appetite for depravity. Both relished the opportunity to satisfy their wanton lusts with a partner of equal skill and talent.
In short order they had stripped each other totally naked—ripping and tearing the clothing as they went— in their frenzied efforts to satisfy their almost insatiable lust. Fiona was on top of Jason in an instant—her gushing cunt impaling itself deeply on Jason's rock-hard member. She rode it with abandon until a quick and highly satisfying first orgasm washed over her.
She then rolled over on her back and drew her legs up to her breasts. Her moist pink gash spread open invitingly. Jason drove deep inside her in an instant and fucked her vigorously until he ejaculated a huge discharge of spewing, hot gism deep inside of her—his orgasm sufficient to trigger a second satisfying orgasm in the dark-haired temptress.
With the preliminaries out of the way, they got down to even more adventurous activities. Soon they were touching, licking, and probing each orifice of the other's body. Their bodies entwined in almost unimaginable positions and their cries of passion echoed repeatedly throughout Lady Fiona's house.
After several enjoyable hours of frenzied debauchery, they paused and were lying quietly next to each other in a classic sixty-nine position. Lady Fiona was leisurely licking Jason's splendid tool, savoring the musky taste of her own cunt and ass which still clung to it.
She paused, pulled her head off of his organ, and chuckled softly.
“And what do you suppose is happening to our dear little Caroline at this very moment, Jason?”
Jason's tongue was deep inside Fiona's cunt. The mixture of her lusty secretions and his own gism was a particularly heady mixture—one which he truly relished.
He pulled his head from her cunt to answer her.
“I imagine, my dear, that Sir Basil has come up with some rather imaginative activities for her,” he said, his tongue teasingly flicking over Fiona's passion engorged clit. “I'll wager it is not nearly enjoyable as what we are enjoying. Don't you agree?”
Fiona chuckled deeply. “Oh, I quite agree, my friend.”
As Lady Fiona spoke, Jason Vanwell continued his oral caresses of her clitoris. She answered by caressing his heavy balls and hungrily taking his cock into her mouth, and then lowering her head down upon it until it was deep in her throat—her lips surrounding the very roots of it—her nose nestled in the curly mass of pubic hair surrounding it....
At that very moment Miss Caroline Martin, like Lady Fiona Savage had an engorged cock deep in her throat. But, as Jason had noted, the experience was far less enjoyable for her than for Lady Fiona.
After Jason and Fiona had left them, Sir Basil had led his trembling captive downstairs to the cellar of his house. A special room—well-equipped with a wide variety of restraints and punishment equipment—had been created there. Caroline was bound spread-eagled to a wooden frame. As he had tied her to it, he had listened to the delightful sound of her pitiful pleas for mercy. She would soon learn that he was not a merciful man....
He had begun with a heavy leather punishment strap across the alabaster globes of her naked bottom. Each blow that landed sounded like a gunshot echoing against the stone walls of the cellar. Each blow triggered a shriek of anguish from Caroline as her nude body jerked forward in reaction to the force of each lash. After the first few blows which landed in a rapid staccato, he slowed the pace down. He knew that the pain would linger and so he took his time. Alone at last with his lovely captive, he had all the time in the world....
He had worked up quiet a sweat as he had, for about an hour, whipped Caroline's naked ass. To cool off, he poured himself a drink and slowly began stripping off his clothes. His tool was fully erect—the head of it purple and angry-looking. It was an erection worthy of an ancient fertility statue—hard and oozing a clear drop of his manly essence. It thrilled him to see Caroline's tear-filled eyes staring at it—knowing she would soon feel it driving deep inside of the most intimate and secret recesses of her body.
Her body was hanging weakly in her bounds as she continued to sob. He stepped before her and slowly ran the head of his cock over her sensitive clitoris and then down between the moist, pink lips of her defenseless cunt. He felt her shudder with revulsion and he smiled as the involuntary wetness of her cunt covered his staff.
“Do you like that, my little whore?” he taunted.
The lovely Miss Martin no doubt feared that her precious cunt would presently be transfixed on his throbbing member, but Sir Basil had something else in mind....
Abruptly the naked man stepped behind her. He ran his hands over her well-whipped bottom and he felt her wince at his touch. Brutally, he yanked her burning bottom cheeks apart revealing the tiny rosette of her anus. Caroline sobbed in terror as she realized what was coming. Buggery was what Sir Basil had in mind and buggery was what he was going to do.
He dropped to his knees and ran his wet tongue over her tightly clenched anus. Caroline shuddered in shame at this lewd caress. He then positioned his cock at that tight little grommet and then thrust inward a few inches into her rectum as the girl shrieked in pain. He then pulled back out momentarily but only so he could better position himself to drive even deeper into her. She was straining forward in her bonds, desperate to escape his rigid thrusting member. But there was no escape for the poor girl....
His hands reached around in front of her and roughly mauled her breasts pulling her back towards him. As he brutally sodomized her, he verbally taunted her— mocking her pain and her degradation and revelling in his total, complete dominance over her.
A look of gleeful lust was spread across Sir Basil's face as he repeatedly sawed his cock in and out of poor Caroline's bottom—listening to her pitiful squeals of pain and humiliation. No sweeter sound had ever reached his ears.
Soon, he felt himself ready to cum—a powerful, long-deferred climax swelling in loins—a climax he had been anxiously anticipating for months. It was his first repayment for the humiliating slights he had experienced at the hands of the once-haughty Miss Caroline Martin. It certainly wouldn't be the last....
“AH!!!!! YESSSSS, YOU LITTLE WHORE!!!!!!”, he cried, as he exploded deep in her bowels. He felt his gism pulsing out of his cock and oozing out of her ravaged anal opening to dribble wetly on the floor between her widely splayed thighs. Caroline was nearly unconscious from the brutality of his assault....
He pulled his cock out of her anus with a wet, sucking sound—a contented smile upon his face. Remarkably, though he had just enjoyed a tremendous orgasm, as he walked around the ravaged beauty, he felt an ever-increasing pleasurable stirring in his cock. He knew that in just a few short minutes he would be ready again—ready to abuse and profane the lush body of the tormented beauty whose nude body was spread defenselessly before him.
To amuse himself as his cock slowly swelled to another splendid erection, he picked up a leather cat-o'-nine-tails. He gently draped the leather thongs across her luxurious breasts and listened as her voice—now grown hoarse from her repeated screams—begged him for mercy. He answered her pleas by bringing the cruel cat smartly across her vulnerable out-thrust nipples.
For the next hour, as Caroline Martin cried in anguish, her naked breasts danced repeatedly beneath the cruel caress of his whip....
She passed out from the pain. When she awakened, Caroline found herself tied spread-eagled on her back. Sir Basil was kneeling above her, his naked ass resting painfully on her recently whipped breasts. The excitement of brutally whipping her lovely breasts had caused his cock to again swell to a prodigious size—a drop of gism oozing obscenely from the tip of it. It was just inches from her tightly clenched lips....
He twisted his fingers into her flowing auburn hair and pulled her head forward until his cock brushed against her mouth. With one hand, he reached behind his back until his fingers found the tiny, sensitive flower of her clit. He gave it a vicious twist. As she screamed in pain, he drove deep into her throat.
While in another room not far from there, Lady Fiona Savage lovingly fellated Jason Vanwell, Miss Caroline Martin's mouth and throat was being filled with Sir Basil Rothberg's throbbing phallus. He relished the rape of her lovely mouth. And, as he came— his milky gism spattering wetly against the gullet of the sobbing, choking, girl—he was already imagining what he intended to do next to his auburn-haired captive.
It was his intention, by the time the sun rose in the morning, that he would complete his initial violation of each of Miss Caroline Martin's bodily orifices. Savoring his vengeance, he contemplated the torments he would presently inflect on the her delectable cunt—first with his whip and with his rock-hard, passion-engorged cock....
Few investments I have made in my life have provided me with as much satisfaction and joy as the £30,000 I paid to the Rio 9 organization to obtain complete and total ownership of the lovely Miss Caroline Martin. Two months have past since she was delivered to my door and I can truly state that I have had not a moment of regret during that entire time. She has, indeed, been worth every shilling and, I dare say, had she cost ten times the amount, it would have been money well spent.
I recognize that I am a most lucky man. Few people have the opportunity in their lifetimes to obtain, as I have, the object of their ultimate desires. In purchasing Caroline, I have done so.
There are many factors contributing to my complete satisfaction with my purchase. Undoubtedly Caroline's great natural beauty plays a major part in my enjoyment. When she was delivered to me, I was impressed again with her innate loveliness. With her flowing auburn hair, her creamy white skin, and her lush, young body, she is a woman certain to fan the flames of passion in even the most jaded of men.
There is also the sense of satisfaction that comes from obtaining a measure of retribution from a once-haughty woman who had previously scorned my amorous attentions. During the time that she has been here, I have made certain that she has begun to pay for the way she once treated me. I have discovered that vengeance can be most rewarding.
Ultimately, however, it is the sense of total and absolute power I have over the girl that provides my greatest satisfaction. Nary a day passes without providing me with abundant opportunities to demonstrate that power over her. During the time she spent at the Fortress, she was given the basic lessons of submission and obedience. I take great pleasure in seeing how well she learned those lessons and in expanding on that knowledge. She knows that the slightest act of disobedience will earn her a severe and painful punishment.
Few men can know the genuine excitement that comes from sitting comfortably in a chair in one's parlor, a snifter of fine brandy in one's hand, and ordering a lovely, trembling, woman to disrobe completely before his eyes. The sight of her reluctantly removing each article of apparel—presenting the most intimate vistas of her lovely body for his perusal—is most delightful. It is perhaps that reluctance that adds the greatest pleasure to the scene. I am a man of the world and have frequently had women—whores or trollops—who, if the price is right, will drop their clothing willingly for me. But to command my pretty Caroline to reveal her body's most hidden and private secrets to me against her will—knowing that every cell in her lush body abhors being made to do so—that, truly, is a situation to be savored.
Miss Caroline Martin can never feel comfortable in my presence. At times I will treat her like the refined and elegant woman she was born to be. We will sit in my comfortable parlor or in the conservatory—attired in our finery—and enjoy a charmingly proper cup of tea. On other occasions, however, I will strip her naked and then abase and abuse her as I might with the vilest and most debauched whore.
Caroline knows that her whole purpose in life is now to provide me with my pleasure. And she has learned, much to her dismay, that my pleasure frequently involves her pain. I will take her to that special room I have created in my cellar, lock the door behind us, and inflict such agonies upon her naked body that, I'm certain, she yearns for the release that death would give her. I am most imaginative in the abuse I inflict upon that alluring body. The sound of her screams echoing against the stone walls of the cellar serve to spur me on to even more innovative torments. Her back, her tempting bottom, her inner thighs, the lush globes of her breasts, even the delicate pink pedals of her cunt have all experienced the full force of my cruelty.
Frequently, I will brutally take my sexual pleasure on sweet Caroline's young body—driving with abandon deep into her intimate bodily recesses—my cock throbbing with pleasure—as she screams in pain and shame at my ravishment. On other occasions I will order her to satisfy me. The sight of this once-haughty, once-arrogant, wench kneeling naked and debased before me is most exciting. What joy it gives me to sternly order her to use her delightful breasts to caress my hungry member! How I relish commanding her to use her tempting tongue to lick my heavy balls, or bathe my asshole with her oral caresses and then to compel her to drive her moist, warm tongue deep into my fundament! What delight it is to thrust my organ into her lovely mouth—that mouth that once so callously scorned me—and fill it completely with my spurting seed! Can you know the pleasure it is to discharge over her lovely face—my spunk spattering against her lips and cheeks and dangling wetly from her nose?
Prior to her arrival, I was somewhat concerned about how my domestic staff might react to her arrival. Being a bachelor, I employ only four domestics to manage the affairs of my house—a cook, maid, driver, and butler. While I trust them utterly, I knew that I would be unable to hide the nature of my relationship from them. I also needed to enlist their support in helping to instill in Caroline a properly servile attitude—one of complete obedience. I wanted Caroline to clearly understand that even the lowest member of my domestic staff had more rights and freedom than she did. Happily, I'm pleased to state, it has worked out quite well.
The following morning after her arrival, I assembled my domestic staff to introduce them to Caroline. The previous night had undoubtedly been one of the finest and most enjoyable nights of my life. I suspect that for Caroline, it had been one of her worst. I led Caroline before them. She was still nude—her lovely body still vividly displaying the evidence of the previous night's debauchery. Her hair was disheveled and her breasts, back, bottom—even her inner thighs—were marked with angry red welts. My dried cum clung to her face and body and oozed lewdly from both of her lower openings. Clearly visible on the creamy white skin of her breasts and inner thighs were bite marks— testimony to the vigor of my ravishment of her. Her eyes were rimmed in red from the tears she had shed during her ordeal. My staff could clearly see the terrible abuse I had inflicted upon her lovely person and that knowledge, undoubtedly, only added to her shame and humiliation.
She stood before them with her head downcast. Her legs were spread widely apart and her hands clasped behind her neck. As I spoke to them, I amused myself by lewdly stroking the satiny flesh of her inner thighs. I could feel her wince as I touched some of the more tender parts of her body that had borne the brunt of my efforts last evening. My fingers brazenly toyed with her lower openings. I could tell she was very tender there and she stiffened beneath my touch as a low moan escaped her lips. I explained in detail how Caroline would fit into the household. I basically told them that I would continue to enjoy Caroline exclusively for the next few weeks, but after that time, I would see that they were also permitted to enjoy her charms.
I knew from the start that I would not have a problem with my cook, Miss Emma Hume. She is one of my most trusted employees having served my family for well over forty years. Now approaching seventy, she was hired by my father when she was a mere girl of eighteen. I had seen photographs of her at that age and she was truly lovely. It was easy to see why my father hired her. I must confess that I have inherited from my father his tremendous libido. Soon after she joined our household, my father was regularly enjoying the sexual delights of Emma's lush, young body. They remained lovers until his death.
As a child, I too loved Emma and would spend many happy hours helping her in the kitchen. When I was slightly older, my affection for her took a different turn. One day I had heard strange sounds coming from the scullery. Being a curious lad of thirteen, I peeked in. There, I saw Emma bent over the table with her skirts up around her waist and her knickers down around her ankles. My father was behind her, rogering her for all she was worth. I became very excited and soon had a tremendous erection. In her passion, Emma glanced over towards the door and saw me watching them. She gave me a knowing, lustful smile.
Later that evening, she came up to my room and proceeded to give me a delightful demonstration of exactly what I had seen. I have, therefore, a special fondness for dear Emma since it was she who took my virginity and taught me how to be a man. Throughout the years, Emma and I had many occasions to replay that first enjoyable encounter.
With the passage of the years, the fires of lust in dear Emma have slowly died down. Today, she is more interested in taking a holiday at the sea shore or going to see latest amusement at the musical hall. I keep an ample supply of sherry in the kitchen and she knows she is welcome to help herself to it.
I have arranged for Caroline to assist Emma one day a week in the kitchen performing some of the more unpleasant tasks. Emma is getting up in years and truly appreciates the assistance. I also intend to visit Caroline in the scullery and reenact that first erotic encounter I witnessed so very long ago. Understandably, I have a real fondness for that room.
And, although Emma is no longer a sexual participant, she will undoubtedly enjoy compelling Caroline to relate, in graphic detail, some of the erotic activities she has been subjected to.
I also have in my employ a young married couple, Gino and Bridgett. Gino serves as my driver while his pretty wife is my housekeeper. Bridgett is a lovely, buxom Cockney girl of twenty who learned very quickly after joining my staff exactly the type of service I expected of her. I will frequently interrupt her while she is carrying out her domestic duties and have her join me in my bed chamber for a pleasant little repast. She is a randy little wench and her enthusiasm for these sessions is quite remarkable.
Gino certainly knows of the interest I take in his lovely bride and makes no objection to them. Since he frequently drives me to the various brothels I frequent throughout city, he knows I am a man who enjoys the bawdier things in life. While visiting these establishments, I always make sure that he is attended to, as well. He has had some truly memorable encounters during these visits and looks forward to them greatly. He understands it is a quid pro quo that, since he is permitted to engage in these enjoyable activities, I am given the opportunity to freely sample and savor the sensuous charms of his young wife.
Typical of his Italian ancestry, Gino is handsome, dark-haired, and muscular. His cock is not particularly long in length, but it is one of the thickest ones I have ever seen. I have frequently watched as he has used this splendid tool on his wife or other young ladies. It is always an amusing sight to see. Their reaction on seeing his unusual organ for the first time, is usually priceless. Even more enjoyable is the sounds they make—squeals and moans, cries and shrieks of both pain and passion—when it is driving into the tight recesses of their bodies.
When I introduced Caroline to him, I was looking forward to seeing her first introduction to his weapon. I knew he, too, would enjoy that first encounter very much. Indeed, it proved to be a memorable event for both of them.
I had suspected that Bridgett, too, was most anxious to enjoy Caroline's charms. She had once confessed to me that she was quite curious to explore the sensuous delights that another woman could provide. I made certain that she was given the opportunity to experience those delights with Miss Caroline.
Since their arrival in my household, Gino, Bridgett, and I had, on many occasions, engaged in some delightful ménage à trois. The addition of Miss Caroline to these sessions only added to their enjoyment. As any lover of music knows—as pleasant as the sound of a trio is, the sound of a quartet is even richer.
I had been perhaps most concerned about my butler, Bertram Spencer. Rather dour in appearance, Bertram is, as befits his position, somewhat strait-laced and proper. He tends to keep to himself, performing his duties admirably. In his mid-fifties, Bertram is a widower with, I learned recently, two teen-aged daughters. Not long ago, those two daughters left to attend boarding school in another city. I could sense that Bertram was most upset by their absence.
I questioned him about the matter one day, and he confessed that what he would truly miss the most, was the opportunity to take his young daughters over his knees, pull down their knickers, and administer a truly wicked bare bottom spanking. I smiled, knowing full well how delightfully enjoyable that experience can be.
To help Bertram cope with his loss, I arranged for him to occasionally visit one of my very favorite brothels. Employed at this particular establishment was a truly delightful little whore name Emily. This girl was about twenty years of age, but could easily be mistaken for someone a decade younger. Her main job at the establishment was to satisfy the desires of men like Bertram who greatly enjoyed the thrill that comes in administering such a painful treatment to a lovely young girl.
Emily had a sweet, innocent face, lovely red hair, freckles, and a petite, girlish body. Her breasts were little more than tiny swellings around her nipples. The charming delta of flesh above her cunt exhibited only a meager few red pubic hairs and was otherwise bare. Her bottom was tiny and firm—perfect for a good bare bottom spanking. The creamy white flesh of her ass was very sensitive and perfectly displayed each blow—a fiery red imprint of either the punisher's hand or whatever other implement he elected to utilize.
One each occasion, Bertram took great pleasure in taking Emily over his knee, tucking her skirt around her waist, lowering her cotton knickers, and then, administering a sound and very painful spanking. He was obviously quite skilled in applying such chastisement, having had ample opportunity to practice on his daughters. I think even Emily—experienced as she was in receiving such treatment—was surprised at how unpleasant Bertram was able to make the encounter. When he was finished Emily would be sobbing with pain and her little bottom would be a vivid shade of crimson. The slightest touch on her glowing orbs caused her exquisite pain, and would continue to do so for the next several days. Even the feel of her undergarments caused a great deal of discomfort. Sitting was, of course, out of the question.
After Bertram was finished administering his chastisement, he would strip lovely Emily completely naked and have her lay on her belly. After disrobing, he would crawl behind her, pull her burning bottom cheeks apart, and then drive deep into either her tight little cunt or her even tighter little asshole. His cock was a marvelously accurate reflection of his physical appearance. Like his body, it was slender, but very long. Emily made the most delightful sounds when its rigid length worked its way deep inside of her— painfully exploring parts of her inner anatomy usually left untouched. When he came, he would pull out of her opening and shoot his milky spunk all over her brutally tormented bottom and then would make a point of rubbing his seed like a salve all over the girl's still burning cheeks, while she winced in pain.
I had suspected, given his enjoyment of these sessions with Emily, that he would also take great pleasure in engaging in such activities with Miss Caroline. Events certain confirmed that suspicion.
At least two or three times a week, I have allowed Bertram the opportunity to spend a few hours with Caroline. The look of total despair on her lovely face whenever I informed her that she could expect a visit from Bertram that day, is priceless.
The only stipulation I imposed on Bertram at such meetings is that I be present at each and every session he enjoys with Caroline. The sight of her enduring such treatment—the sounds of her cries—the look of total humiliation in her red-rimmed eyes—is always sufficient stimulus to encourage me to add my own ravishment to the abuse poor Caroline has already experienced at Bertram's hands. Since Caroline's arrival, Bertram has never been happier.
* * *
I delight in coming up with new and imaginative ways to debase and degrade my lovely captive. Last week I invited two acquaintances of mine to the house for dinner. My guests, Victor Winthrop and Sir Andrew Chamberlain, had both been recipient of Caroline's haughty scorn in the days prior to her capture. Both men had been publicly humiliated by the little slut in much the same manner in which I had been. I wanted to provide them with a measure of retribution and to have them assist in teaching Caroline a lesson.
Although I couldn't reveal Caroline's true identity to them or share with them the details of our relationship, I did inform them that the evening's entertainment would involve a variety of unusual sensuous delights.
I dressed Caroline in a tightly fitted leather hood that completely covered her face and head—obscuring her identity. Her auburn hair was passed through a small opening in the top of the hood which had small slits for her eyes and nose. The opening for her mouth had a small flap which could be buckled in place and attached to this flap was a large protrusion, skillfully crafted to resemble an erect penis. Once inserted in her mouth, it served as a most effective gag, rendering her totally mute for the evening.
But for a tiny, transparent apron tied around her waist which did nothing to hide her feminine charms, Caroline was otherwise completely nude. When the two men arrived, I introduced her as “Cloe", my new serving wench. I knew how totally humiliating it must have been for her to be completely nude before these two men—both of them acquaintances from her previous life. I savored the look of despair in her eyes.
Knowing full well the painful price of disobedience, “Cloe” served the evening meal to my two guests. Undoubtedly, she found it most unpleasant to feel their hands roaming freely up the satiny expanse of flesh between her thighs. I could see her stiffen in shame as Victor's fingers caressed her clit and spread her cunt lips. Sir Andrew's fingers also freely explored Caroline's feminine charms. I saw her eyes clench in humiliation when he worked one of his fingers into her tight little anus, as she stood beside the table serving the meal.
When the meal was completed, the four of us retired to the parlor for some additional amusements. My lovely captive was to be the focus of most of these activities. In short order, Caroline Martin found herself impaled between the two men—Sir Andrew deep in her cunt, while Victor buggered her. While my guests were busily engaged in these tasks, I loosened her gag and replaced it with my cock. Soon, all three of her orifices were filled with cum. I quickly strapped the gag back in place forcing her to swallow my offering.
While they recovered, Victor and Sir Andrew next amused themselves by taking turns caning Caroline's naked bottom with whalebone switches. The tears in the girl's eyes and her muffled cries gave ample testimony to just how painful she found it to be. My guests concluded the evening's activities by reprising her earlier ravishment—this time, however, with Sir Andrew in her snug little bottom hole while Victor filled her cunt. An enjoyable time was had by all—all but Caroline....
As I write this, I know she will be waiting for me upstairs. I have commanded her to wait for me in my bed chamber. She will be naked, kneeling on my bed, her head resting on a pillow. Her hips will be elevated with her legs spread widely apart. The first sight that will greet me as I enter the room will be the alluring pink cleft of her womanhood, totally exposed and proffered for my pleasure.
She has been waiting for me for some time—not knowing what activities I might have in store for her. Undoubtedly, as she waits, her mind is imagining what I might do to her when I arrive.
Will I be gentle tonight—gently kissing her clitoris; licking the sensitive bud of her bunghole; or driving my tongue deep into her vagina while she writhes in pleasure?
Will I viciously whip her up-thrust bottom cheeks as she screams in terrible pain?
Will I command her to lewdly masturbate for me while I savor her humiliation?
Will I rape or bugger her with total abandon?
The choice is mine and mine alone!
In just a few moments I will reveal that choice to the waiting Miss Caroline....
Master Basil came to me early one morning in my chamber and, after subjecting me to the brutal ravishment I have come to expect from him each morning, he informed me that we would be having visitors that evening. I felt an immediate sense of unease as I contemplated what might be in store for me that evening.
With a malignant smile on his face, he said, “I'm sure you'll find our guests this evening to be most interesting. Sir Harvey is a Member of Parliament and has served the Crown in many unusual jobs throughout the Empire. It is his companion for this evening, however, who should be of particular interest to you, my dear. Her name is Miss Jane Rayner and she, like you, is a product of Rio 9, having completed her training at the Fortress shortly before your own capture. You should have much in common with her.”
I thought back to those times in the library at the Fortress when Master Jason would order me to look through the thick books containing the hundreds of lurid photographs of attractive young women, stripped totally naked, and undergoing their painful and humiliating training at the hands of Jason, the Countess, and the other trainers of Rio 9. I wondered if I had seen Miss Jane Rayner's photograph amongst those books?
The day passed slowly. I assisted Emma in the kitchen in the preparation of the evening meal and, as I went about those routine domestic tasks, I found myself wondering what would happen to me that evening?
In the late afternoon, Sir Basil came for me. He ordered me to undress and watched as I bathed and made myself ready for our visitors. At his command, I was not permitted to dress. But for a leather slave collar and manacles on my wrists and ankles, I would greet Sir Harvey and Jane Rayner totally nude....
When I was ready, I waited in the parlor for their arrival, kneeling on the oriental rug before the fire. I was understandably nervous, but there was, I confess, a warm wetness between my legs—of fear, yes, but also of excitement.
The doorbell sounded and, after a moment, Bertram escorted the visitors into the parlor where I waited. Sir Harvey Wakefield was in his mid-fifties, silver-haired, and distinguished looking. I blushed as I watched him intently perusing my nakedness—a smile of hungry anticipation on his face.
His companion, Miss Jane Rayner, was a comely girl in her early twenties. With her soft brown hair and creamy white skin, she was quite lovely. I was easy to see why Sir Harvey had been attracted to her. Attired in an expensive, stylish dress, she stood silently at his side—her eyes lowered submissively.
Basil greeted them warmly. “Harvey, my good man, so glad you could join us this evening.”
He turned to the girl. “And this must be Jane....”
He clasped her delicate hand in his, bent at the waist, and gallantly kissed it.
“My dear, you look even lovelier in person than you did in the charming film I saw of you undergoing your training at the Fortress.”
At the mention of those revealing films, Jane blushed noticeably.
“Of course, you were under some distress at the time,” he chuckled. “I can well imagine that, for a lovely young girl like yourself, being totally naked in the presence of Jason and the Countess and facing the unpleasant prospect of experiencing the type of imaginative punishments they are capable of, must have been an unsettling experience.”
“Oh, she's come a very long way since then, Basil,” Sir Harvey remarked jovially. He then walked to where I was kneeling. “And this must be your Caroline....”
“Yes, Indeed! Caroline, stand up so Sir Harvey can have a better look at you!” Basil ordered.
I rose. As I had learned at the Fortress, I placed my hands behind my neck, lowered my head, and spread my legs widely apart allowing him the freedom to inspect my naked, exposed body. His hands were soon freely roaming over my trembling flesh. I experienced a mixture of shame and arousal as I felt him skillfully caressing my breasts and nipples, teasing my clitoris and anus, and probing deep inside the wet mouth of my cunt with his fingers.
“Jane, my dear,” he said, continuing his lewd caresses of the most intimate parts of my anatomy, “It hardly seems fair that I should be afforded the pleasurable opportunity to fully enjoy Miss Caroline's naked loveliness while you remain fully clothed. I think you should undress and allow Sir Basil the chance to become better acquainted with your lovely body.”
She nodded silently, lowered her head, and obediently complied with his command, removing each item of her apparel until her total nakedness matched my own. She was a lovely girl—slender with perfectly formed breasts topped with pale, pink nipples. Although Sir Basil had permitted the hair on my pubic mound to grow back, the area between Jane's legs was still totally shorn—the full, pink lips of her cunt clearly visible. Master Basil was soon freely fondling her naked body—his actions mirroring those of the silver-haired man who continued to caress my body.
Sir Harvey was focusing most of his attentions directly on the swollen bud of my clitoris. He was surprisingly skillful in his touch. Against my will, I began to moan softly and move my hips lewdly against his hand. Soon, the stimulation of his touch became too much for me and a powerful orgasm washed over me. His hand was instantly covered with my flowing wetness. Basil and Sir Harvey laughed at my profound embarrassment at having exhibited such wantonness before them. Calling me a 'randy little slut', he then made me lick the wetness from his fingers prior to adjourning to the dining room for our evening meal.
The two men enjoyed a spirited discussion during the meal on a variety of political topics. Jane and I— still totally nude—ate our meals in silence. At one point in their discussions, a matter of geography arose on which they needed clarification. The two men retired to the study to consult the atlas leaving Jane and I alone in the dining room.
Jane looked very lovely in the warm glow of the candlelight. For the first time since her arrival, she spoke to me—her voice quiet and soft.
“How long since you left the Fortress, Caroline?”
“Eight months,” I replied.
“I well remember my first year,” she said. “It must still be very hard for you....”
I nodded, feeling tears of sadness beginning to form in my eyes.
“There were days during that first year that I found myself longing for the Fortress. Jason Vanwell's treatment seems almost gentle compared to some of the things my Master has required of me since my return....”
“Sometimes its so terrible....” I sobbed.
We could hear the two men returning from the study. She spoke to me with a quiet intensity.
“Caroline, listen to me. I know quite well what you are experiencing. You need to learn, as I have, that in everything they do to you, no matter how painful or humiliating it may be, there is a possibility for pleasure. If you are the survive this experience, Caroline, you need to learn to find that pleasure....”
I did not then fully appreciate the wisdom of her advice, but, as my captivity continued, I learned....
After our evening meal, we retired to the parlor to begin the evening's entertainment. Basil poured his guest a large snifter of fine brandy and, as Jane and I knelt side by side in front of the fire, the two men lit imported Cuban cigars. Sir Harvey remarked that it might be amusing to have Jane and I perform a demonstration of the rites of Sappho. Master Basil readily agreed.
Soon, at their command, Miss Jane Rayner's naked body was pressed to mine. Our lips met and I felt her tongue working its way deep into my mouth. I answered her probing tongue with my own. As Sir Harvey and Master Basil watched intently, we quickly moved on to activities of a far more intimate nature.
I had, of course, been introduced to the art of Lesbos at the hands of the Countess. I would suspect that Miss Jane Rayner had been subjected to a similar training regime. She had learned her lessons quite well. Our naked bodies were soon entwined—our mouths pressed to the other's flowing cunt. This experience was far different than the other times when I had found myself tasting the wetness between another woman's legs. On those occasions, I had been nothing more than a slave, being forced—against my will—to use my tongue to give the woman that commanded me her pleasure.
Tonight, however, despite the fact that Jane and I were performing this intimate act at the command of our masters, we both found ourselves anxious to give the other satisfaction.
As her lips caressed my passion-engorged clitoris, as her tongue drove deep into my flowing cunt, I felt myself moving closer and closer to another splendid climax. When it came, my scream of passion filled the room....
After a moment to recover, I began focusing all my attentions on giving Jane Rayner an equal amount of sensual pleasure. My tongue probed into the wet recesses of her vagina, savoring the rich and heady taste of her womanly honey. I could hear her mounting moans of pleasure and feel her moving her slender hips rhythmically against my face. Her sticky, sweet wetness was spread over my cheeks and lips. Soon, her body stiffened and she emitted an impassioned cry. My tongue felt the pulsing contractions of her cunt as a powerful orgasm gripped her. The sensation of feeling her reach her orgasm was sufficient to trigger in me yet another powerful climax.
Jane and I lay next to each other—our faces nestled in the other's loins. Sir Harvey's voice pulled us out of our reverie.
“Well, that was most amusing. Now that these lovely little whores have satisfied each other, I think it's time that we moved on to activities that they might not find to be nearly so pleasant. Don't you agree?”
Master Basil nodded.
“Since these two obviously know how to give each other pleasure, it might be interesting to see if they can also give each other pain....”
While Master Basil retrieved a number of whips and crops, Sir Harvey ordered his lovely slave to drape her body over the top of the divan.
“I notice you don't use manacles on Jane,” Master Basil observed.
“That quite true, Basil. During the time she's been with me, I've taught her to hold her position no matter what. She's learned that whatever pain she might momentarily be experiencing is far less than that she can expect if she displeases me.”
Sir Harvey handed me a vicious leather cat-o'-nine-tails.
“All right, Caroline. I want you to whip the little whore soundly.”
I held the whip timidly in my hand. I had, of course, frequently felt its cruel bite and knew, from personal experience, how terrible it could be. I had never before been ordered to administer such punishment. I looked at Jane's Rayner lying there, naked, defenseless—back and bottom helplessly awaiting the cruel kiss of the lash. This was the girl with whom I had just shared the most intimate of pleasures....
I hesitated....
“We're waiting, Caroline,” Sir Harvey said firmly.
Knowing I had no choice in the matter, but still wanting to spare Jane, if I could, I tentatively brought the leather whip across her naked back. Not a severe blow, in reality, but the cracking sound of leather on naked flesh and Jane's cry of pain was terrible.
I stepped away, unable to continue. Master Basil was not pleased with my efforts.
“All right, Caroline. Have it your way. Sir Harvey has given you the opportunity nearly any man in London would kill for—that chance to administer a sound thrashing to a naked girl as lovely as Miss Jane. Very well, since you persist in these childish games, I can only assume that you would rather be the recipient rather than the executor of such punishment.”
“No, Master!” I sobbed.
Despite my protests, I soon found myself tied firmly over the divan in the same position Jane had previously occupied.
Trembling with fear, I glanced over my shoulder and saw Master Basil hand the cat to Jane. I was pleading for mercy. She, too, hesitated for a moment....
Sir Harvey walked to his lovely slave.
“I think I know how to persuade the little cunt to carry out your order, Basil.”
As I watched in disbelief, he brought the glowing tip of his cheroot to Jane's right breast and held it against her nipple. She screamed in pain. Needing no further motivation to carry out the order, she began whipping me with abandon. It was a most brutal whipping and I shrieked in agony.
If she hesitated even an instant in her whipping, Sir Harvey repeatedly spurred her into action with the application of the fiery ember of his cigar to her satiny flesh. I would hear Jane's shrieks followed immediately by a frenzy of blows to my abused flesh.
After what seemed like a pain-filled eternity, Sir Basil ordered Jane to stop. He untied me.
“Now, Caroline, let's see if you're more inclined to carry out my commands.”
I again held the whip in my hand. Chastised by my whipping and in terror of feeling the fiery ember of Sir Harvey's cheroot on my flesh, this time I needed no further encouragement. I brought the cruel leather whip squarely across the up-thrust cheeks Jane Rayner's naked bottom. I answered her cry of pain with another vicious blow across her back.
I repeatedly whipped her, as she screamed in pain. While carrying out this cruel sentence on her lovely, nude, body, quite unexpectedly, I felt a strange sense of erotic power that was tremendously exciting. Continuing to brutally whip her, my left hand moved between my legs and my fingers found my throbbing chit. As I listened to the brown-haired girl scream in pain—pain that my blows were causing her, a powerful orgasm tore through me.
Later that evening, Jane Rayner and I found ourselves on our hands and knees facing each other. Master Basil was behind her with his rampant cock deep in her bowels. I, too, was being crudely buggered by her owner, the distinguished MP, Sir Harvey Wakefield.
I looked at Jane Rayner's lovely face. It was, of course, distorted by the pain she was experiencing from Master Basil's anal ravishment. I could see tears of pain and shame running freely down her cheeks, and could hear her tiny cries of pain and degradation. I knew that I must be presenting a similar visage to her.
I remembered the advice she had given me earlier. As my tear-filled eyes momentarily found hers, I saw within them a glimmer of the pleasure she had spoken of....
While our ravishment continued, I quietly reached out my hand to hers and clasped it in mine. I felt very close to her. I realized that we were, in a strange way, sisters—sisters in pain and humiliation in the sorority that was our captivity....
Caroline sensed that this day was somehow different from the time she awakened. She had been permitted to sleep quite late, and she realized the morning was nearly spent. She was also surprised to find that Sir Basil was not in the room when she awakened. During the time since her arrival here, she had learned to expect that, when she arose each morning, he would be standing beside her bed. He would usually be naked—his member erect and swollen— oozing cum in anticipation of the sexual demands he would soon impose upon her nude, defenseless, body. On other occasions, he would have a whip or crop in hand and he would force her to greet the new morning in a rather more painful manner.
This morning, it was Emma that Caroline found standing beside her bed. She was holding a silver serving tray upon which was an most elegant breakfast. Caroline, embarrassed by her nakedness before the older woman, wrapped the sheet tighter around her nude body. Despite her unease, she was quite hungry and she readily ate the luxurious meal had been delivered to her bed.
On the tray, she noticed a sealed envelop. The writing on the envelop was is his hand. She opened it....
“My dear Caroline,” it read. “I am very sorry I wasn't there to greet you this morning, however, I had to attend to some important manners. I trust you enjoyed your morning repose. Today is a very special day and, if you think back into your past, you may recall why. Enjoy the day, my pet. I have a special surprise for you when I return—B.”
She tried to think back to why this day might be significant and then it struck her—March 27th! Two years ago this very night had been the Royal Cotillion where she had made her triumphant debut in London society.
It had been the grandest night of her life and she had, that night, captured the hearts of many of the most eligible men in the city with her undeniable beauty and elegance. She recalled that Sir Basil had been one of the men in attendance that evening, and, she recalled with an unsettling feeling, she had deliberately scorned him that evening.
Tears filled her eyes. Indeed, the memory of that night was now quite painful for Caroline as she considered how dramatically her station in life had changed since that evening. Never in her worst nightmares could she then have conceived of the fate that had now befallen her.
The remainder of the day passed slowly. She went about her morning ablutions in unaccustomed solitude, dressed, and retired to the study for the remainder of the afternoon. She tried to read, but was distracted by her fears of what the evening might hold for her.
In late afternoon, Bertram entered the study carrying a large parcel for her. There was another envelop attached to the box which she opened.
“Caroline, my love,” it read. “I hope this brings back pleasant memories. I look forward to seeing you in it this evening—B.”
She opened the box and her eyes widened wit surprise when she saw what was within. There in the box was a beautiful blue formal gown of silk, taffeta, and organdy and covered in delicate lace. The gown was a perfect replica of the gown she had worn two years earlier at the Cotillion. She clearly remembered how beautiful she had looked in the gown. Prior to the Cotillion, she had visited all of the most fashionable salons in Paris to find the perfect gown. Weeks of time and energy had been spent ensuring that the effect would be exactly what she wanted. The final results were, however, stunning and Miss Caroline Martin's dazzling gown was the talk of the Ball and the evening had been a true social triumph for her.
Bertram informed Caroline that her Master would pick her up in two hours and that she was to make herself ready for his arrival. Not knowing what to expect when he arrived, she began her preparations.
In addition to the gown, the box contained a full set of expensive silk lingerie and carefully selected jewelry. Numbly, she bathed, prepared her hair, and applied her make-up. She then donned the expensive clothes that had been provided for her.
When finished, she gazed in the mirror. The results were truly remarkable. The gown, cut daringly low in the front, accented every curve of her near perfect body. She recognized how beautiful and alluring she appeared and, she realized, how her striking beauty might, two years earlier, have captured the amorous attentions of a man like Sir Basil Rothberg.
She could feel her heart beating in her chest as she waited in the parlor for his arrival. Finally, she heard him enter. She saw with surprise that he was dressed in elegant evening attire—white tie, tails, and silken top hat. He wore white gloves on his hands—a silk-lined cape draped over his shoulders—carrying an elegant cane in his hand. Bertram stood behind him holding two other parcels.
“Caroline, my child. You look truly radiant this evening!” he said grandly. “I have a wonderful evening planned for us. I hope you're looking forward to as much as I am.”
“Y.... Yes, Master,” she said softly.
“Good!”
From one of the boxes Bertram held, Basil retrieved a lovely orchid corsage and pinned it to her decolletage. The other box held and elegant sable stole which he gallantly draped over her exposed shoulders. He led her out to the waiting car. Gino held the door for them, as they entered the luxurious cab.
They drove to very exclusive, secluded, restaurant and were escorted to an elegant private dining room. There, they were served a lavish and elegant meal fit for the most discriminating of gourmets. In the flickering candlelight, surrounded by the most expensive crystal, china, and silver, Caroline could almost relax and momentarily forget her current status and what she had become.
After finishing a luxurious mousse and an expensive glass of liqueur, Sir Basil smiled at her.
“Ah, Caroline, my dear, that was splendid!” he said pleasantly. “Now, I know just the thing to top off the evening. I seem to recall that you very much enjoyed dancing, isn't that so?”
“Y... yes, Master,” she said.
“Good! I know just the place where tonight you'll have the opportunity to dance to your heart's content!”
Basil led Caroline from the restaurant to the waiting car. As Gino drove, through the curtained windows of the cab, Caroline could see the city passing by. She soon realized that she was in a part of the city she had never seen before. The streets were narrow, the buildings deteriorated, and, judging from the damp, heavy, fog that enshrouded the car, she suspected they were very near the river. She was growing increasingly alarmed....
They passed a number of darkened, dingy, warehouses before stopping in front of a run-down brick building.
“We're here,” Basil said brightly.
They stepped from the car. Caroline, still dressed in her elegant outfit, immediately spelled the strong stench of decaying fish and garbage. A feral-looking cat raced across their path. From within the building Caroline heard the faint sound of music. She looked at her companion with a frightened, uncertain, look....
Sir Basil opened the door and led Caroline inside.
The room had originally been built as a trade union hall but had, in recent years been converted into a private social club for the burly men who worked on the waterfront. The air was filled with tobacco smoke and the stench of sweat and stale beer predominated.
A phonograph player was blaring raucous, brassy, jazz. About thirty burly men were crowded around a small stage at one end of the room and, on that stage, a slightly overweight, middle-aged woman with bleached blond hair—dressed in a tacky, sequined gown—was dancing before them. Caroline, standing with Sir Basil in the wings, watched in disbelief as the woman began to remove her gown to the appreciative hoots and cries of the assembled men. It dropped to the floor. She was now dressed in just a beaded brassiere and panties.
The woman danced to the rhythmic, pulsing, sound of the music—her body swaying lewdly. As Caroline watched, she unhooked her bra, and then, shook her large naked breasts before the cheering assemblage. They hooted their approval.
The woman's dance became more and more obscene. Her hands cupped her ample breasts and her fingers pinched and twisted her own nipples. At one point, she bent over the edge of the platform and dangled one of her breasts before one of the men. He responded by giving the fat teat a sloppy, wet, kiss as his cohorts cheered lewdly.
The music slowed and, as the woman sensuously ground her hips before assembled audience, the woman seductively pulled her panties off. She lay down on the stage floor before the men and slowly spread her legs widely apart. As her own fear mounted, Caroline watched the lurid spectacle intently.
After twisting into every imaginable position so as to give the assembled crowd as graphic view as possible of the most intimate parts of her anatomy, the woman finished her performance. The audience clapped its hearty approval.
She was followed on stage by another woman—about thirty years in age with brassy red hair. Her performance was, if anything, even more obscene than the previous woman.
At its conclusion, Sir Basil turned to his pretty captive and, with an evil smile upon his face, said, “All right Caroline, now its your turn....”
The tears of shame and humiliation were streaming down her cheeks as she numbly listened to him describe, in graphic detail, exactly what he wanted her to do. The tone of his voice clearly indicated that he would broach no disobedience.
At his command, she walked on stage. Her elegant, carefully coiffured appearance was in stark contrast to the rather raw-boned sensuality of the two women who had proceeded her. At the sight of her delicate beauty, the audience shouted and cheered hungrily in anticipatory delight.
Pulsing music began to blare from the phonograph. Her stomach was quivering with revulsion. Fearing Basil's retribution, Caroline began to dance to it. She could feel every eye in the room gazing intently at her—every man imagining her stripped totally naked for their pleasure. She wanted to die of embarrassment and shame....
Whatever she might have lacked in knowledge of the ecdysiasial arts was more than made up by her natural beauty and elegance. With an in-bred grace, she moved across the stage as the audience watched intently. She dropped the elegant sable stole she had been wearing.
With tear-filled eyes, she glanced off stage, desperately hoping that Sir Basil might spare her the humiliation she was now facing. His face, however, was set and hard. She felt her heart sink as she realized she would have to perform the odious task he had outlined for her.
Her hands were trembling, as she reached behind her back and began to unclasp the gown.
She held it tightly to her body as the crowd shouted for her to let it fall. She again looked off stage. Sir Basil, a cruel gleam in his eyes, nodded. Caroline shut her eyes in shame and dropped the gown. It puddled around her ankles and, as the crowd hooted and clapped appreciatively.
The frilly wisps of fabric that comprised her lingerie did little to hide her beauty. Caroline's cheeks were bright red as she felt the audience's eyes burning like glowing embers across her body. She glanced off-stage to where Basil stood. Again, he nodded. Caroline sobbed audibly and then reached back and unclasped her brassiere. The garment slowly slid down her arms and fell to the floor. At the sight of her alluringly perfect breasts, the audience cheered and clapped madly.
Now clad solely in her silken panties, Caroline waited with dread for Basil's next command. She danced across the stage and brazenly shook her naked breasts, as she had been ordered to do, for the appreciative audience. She looked at Basil, desperate to be spared this final humiliation. He nodded....
With her eyes now filled with tears, Caroline Martin stepped to the center of the stage, hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her panties, and slowly drew the garment down her slender, shapely, thighs. The audience clapped and cheered wildly at the lovely sight of her naked cunt.
The music continued to blare. Her stomach quivering with revulsion, Caroline began to carry out Basil's next command. She lay down on the dirty floor at the edge of the stage and spread her legs widely apart. Every inch of the most intimate and private flesh of her alluring body, from her fleece-covered mound to the tightly clenched grommet of her anus, was totally exposed to the rowdy crowd's gaze. Caroline felt totally degraded....
She looked to the side and saw Basil in the wings. He motioned for her to come to him. Once there, he whispered his next instructions to her, and then handed her two dildos. With a sickening sense of dread, she bit her lip helplessly as he vividly instructed her as to what he wanted her to do next.
She walked back to the edge of the stage and lay back down on the edge of it. She again forced herself to spread her legs widely apart. Then, she motioned to one of the burly men in the front row to come to her.
She handed him one of the dildos.
“Put it in me....” she said softly.
He didn't need to be asked twice. With a brutal thrust, he drove the rigid shaft deep into her cunt. Caroline screamed as he continued to thrust it roughly in and out of her tender vagina.
After a few moments, with the first dildo still in her pussy, she rolled over on to her knees. She looked at another man in the first row and motioned for him to come to her. She handed the other dildo to him, reached back and spread her bottom cheeks, and tearfully begged him to insert it into her defenseless anus.
He drove it brutally into her to the hilt.
The men in the audience were becoming more and more aroused by Caroline's lurid performance. Finally, the man working the dildo into her cunt yanked it out, undid his pants, and leapt upon her—his rampant cock driving deep into her quim.
It was like a dam holding back a raging flood suddenly bursting. The other audience members quickly surrounded the naked beauty. While still impaled on the first man's member, Caroline was rolled onto her belly. Another dock worker stepped behind her, pulled the dildo from her ass, and roughly replaced it with his rock-hard cock. Another man twisted his fingers into her auburn hair, yanked her head back, and drove his shaft deep into her gullet. Her hands were placed on the hungry cocks of other men and she was made to caress them until they spurted their gism all over her naked body.
Whenever one of the men raping her body ejaculated on or in her, another man would step forward to take his place. It went on and on. Caroline was drenched in cum which dribbled off of her face and breasts. Thick rivulets of sticky, milky, spunk oozed from her openings and was matted in her hair.
Caroline lost all track of time as one sweaty dock-worker after another used her body for their pleasure. Finally, hours later, she realized she was alone. Dazed and exhausted form her ordeal, she wearily raised her head from the pool of cum in which she lay. A pair of leather boots were beside her head. She looked up. It was Sir Basil's driver, Gino.
“I took your Master home several hours ago. You were still quite busy....”
There was a cruel, taunting edge to his voice. As she watched numbly, he unbuttoned his trousers and removed his huge, thick cock.
“Now its my turn, bitch,” he said, twisting his fingers in her cum-matted auburn hair, and pulling her face to his groin.
She didn't care any longer. She opened her mouth and allowed his massive tool to fill her throat. Cupping his testicles in her hand, she began moving her head up and down his shaft like the true whore she had become. Finally he came—completely filling her mouth with his sticky seed, which she swallowed obediently....
He tucked his cock back into his trousers and then, with his boot, pushed her back down to the floor.
“Now, slut", he hissed at her. “Use that pretty pink tongue of yours to clean up the mess you left.”
Totally degraded, Miss Caroline Martin bent over and began licking up the pools of cum that surrounded her ravaged body. She longed for death....
“It's late,” Gino said when she was finished. “Let's go home.”
Caroline nodded mutely and started to stand up. “No,” he said, pushing her back to her knees. “Crawl....”
Two years earlier on this very night Miss Caroline Martin had made her triumphant debut in the finest circles of London society. This night—totally naked and covered with the drying cum of dozens of men— she crawled through the heavy, chilly London fog on her hands and knees to Sir Basil's automobile.
Not wishing to soil the interior of the expensive motor car, Gino made exhausted Caroline ride on a filthy blanket in the boot of the car to their destination. Sir Basil was there waiting for her in the punishment room in the cellar—a vicious leather whip in his hand. He intended to add a painful coda to this evening's events....
The engraved invitation I received in the morning mail from Lady Fiona Savage was a most welcome surprise and one which I was most anxious to accept. At one of our earlier meetings, she had told me some of what transpired at Sternwell Manor and her descriptions of the activities that transpired there had, to be sure, whetted my appetite to visit and to have Miss Caroline Martin avail herself of the unique equestrian training opportunities the Manor offered.
It was a weekend in early spring—cool and rainy as is frequently the case this time of year. Still, the gloom and dismal nature of the day did little to diminish my enthusiasm for what lay ahead of us. We left Friday morning with Caroline and I seated in the back of the comfortable Bentley. It was a long drive into the country but I found many delightful ways to pass the time.
While still in the city, I found it amusing to remove the fetching Miss Martin's silken knickers, pull up her skirt, and order her to spread her lovely thighs on the back seat to permit me to tease and finger her tight little slit. Despite her efforts to maintain her composure, her little clit was soon standing erect and her pussy was flowing freely. She was moaning softly as I caressed her little nubbin and worked my fingers deep inside her. I soon made her undo her blouse and liberate her breasts from the confines of her brassiere so that she could, at my command, lewdly fondle and caress her own nipples. We were still within the limits of the city when she reached her first orgasm. As always, I delighted in the look of shame on her face as I made her debase herself before me in this manner.
Once outside of the limits of the city, I ordered her to disrobe completely. Securing her wrists behind her back, I forced her to her knees on the floorboards and ordered her to use her mouth to attempt to undo my trousers and free my cock which had swollen to a most prodigious size. It was not a task that could easily be accomplished and, although her efforts to comply with my demand were most delightful, they ultimately proved unsuccessful. I completed the task myself, informing her that her failure to accomplish my command had just earned her thirty strokes with my riding quirt— twenty on her naked bottom and ten across the full, round globes of her breasts. The tears began to well up in her eyes as I pronounced my sentence.
Before administering her punishment, however, I was anxious to have her use that alluring mouth of hers for other purposes. I ordered her to begin by giving my cock and balls a good lathering with her pretty pink tongue. Given the limited space in the back of the car and the fact that the way in which she was bound hampered her movements, it was not easy for her to complete this task. Soon, she was panting with exertion. The moisture of her saliva from her enforced oral efforts blended with the tears that were now flowing freely from her lovely green eyes. My cock was soon glistening with her wetness.
I roughly twisted my fingers into her flowing auburn hair and pulled her head up positioning her luscious lips at the throbbing tip of my manhood. Without warning I pushed her head downward until my shaft was lodged deep in the back of Caroline's throat. She gagged....
I pulled her up briefly before again driving her mouth down my rod.
“Now, suck it, bitch", I hissed, as I forced her head up and down rhythmically.
Anxious to avoid displeasing me, Caroline desperately sought to comply with my demands. The sensation her efforts were causing as the car swayed and bounced slightly along the road, were most enjoyable....
Although I might have then easily enjoyed the sensation of spurting my seed deep in the spasming gullet of Miss Caroline, I realized that we were still quite a ways from our destination and there we other activities that I wished to engage in with my lovely traveling companion. I pulled the sobbing girl off of my cock and forced her to lay across my lap. Securing her wrists to a handle on the side wall of the car, I found my cock—wet with her saliva and oozing pre-ejaculatory fluid—wedged tightly between her satiny thighs— providing wet warmth as it rubbed incessantly against the full, pink lips of her charming little cunt.
Her lush, round asscheeks—pillowy soft and creamy smooth—lay before me. I lightly ran my hands over their cool, unblemished, alabaster surface. I could feel her muscles tighten beneath my touch. With one finger, I traced down the groove separating those lush globes. A few delicate auburn hairs lined this cleft and I delighted in teasing and tugging lightly on them. My hand spread her asscheeks apart and the tightly clenched pink grommet of her asshole came into view. My finger playfully explored this delicate opening and then slowly worked its way inside it.
“Nnnnnnaaaaaao!!!!!”, she moaned weakly. I knew she wanted to protest my digital invasion of her anal cavity more forcefully, but she had learned the painful price of voicing such objections. As I continues to saw my finger in and out of her fundament, I could hear her sobbing softly in shame....
The smooth globes of her buttocks were far too tempting a target for me. I wrapped my left arm around her slender waist and pulled her towards me. My left hand was below her cupping the curly moss of her pubic mound, while my index and middle fingers had captured the sensitive nub of Caroline's clitoris between them. I raised my right hand high in the air and then brought it squarely across the girl's right buttock. She screamed....
There are few activities in this world quite as enjoyable as that of administering a sound, bare-bottomed spanking, to a lovely, nude woman and, as we motored through the verdant English countryside, I again experienced the enjoyment that comes from carrying out such a punishment. The bright, pink, imprint of my hand quickly became visible on Caroline's naked bottom. I immediately provided a matching imprint to her left buttock. Then, in rapid order, I rained down repeated blows until the entire surface of her bottom was turned a fiery shade of crimson. Feeling Caroline's lush young body twist and convulse against me as each blow landed, and listening to her pitiful cries, was most pleasurable.
When I stopped, Caroline lay sobbing across my lap. I lightly ran my hand over the recently chastised red globes and felt the fiery warmth rising from them. The lightest touch caused her to wince in pain.
What Caroline had failed to realize was that this spanking was not an end in itself but was merely a prelude to the promised whipping she had earned earlier as a result of her unsuccessful efforts to liberate my cock with her mouth. I knew that my spanking had only serve to make the sobbing girl's poor bottom that much more sensitive to the kiss of my crop.
I reached into a compartment and withdrew my riding crop. I tightened my grip around her waist.
“Now, Caroline, I expect you to count for me each blow as I administer it. Do I make myself clear?”
“Y... Yes, Master,” she whimpered in a tearful, frightened voice.
The first blow sounded almost like a gunshot in the small confines of the cab, and her frenzied reaction as it landed square across her still glowing cheeks, was almost as vivid. After emitting an anguished cry, she remembered my instructions and forced herself to sob a tearful.
“One....”
Nine more strokes quickly landed across her naked bottom and each one produced an equally intense response in my beautiful young victim. Her cries were becoming more and more pitiful....
Wishing to vary the pace somewhat, I untied her and forced her to kneel in front of me. I had promised her ten strokes across her comely tits and now I ordered her to prepare to receive them. I made her kneel with her knees widely spread and had her reach back and clasp her ankles. It cause her lush globes to thrust forward and made them a most attractive target. The cheeks of her delicately sculpted face were streaked with tears....
The first blow that landed across the full globes caused Caroline to nearly collapse in pain. It took a stern warning on my part to make her force herself, with great reluctance, to resume the position, again displaying her naked breasts to receive the remaining blows. Each painful stroke across her lush orbs with her sensitive, out-thrust nipples caused her exquisite anguish, as her sobbing voice counted each painful blow.
To receive the final ten remaining lashes, I ordered the sobbing Caroline to kneel before me and position herself with her lovely naked ass facing me—her head resting on the floorboard of the cab. The slight respite her bottom had received when I had shifted my attentions to her titties had, in no way, diminished the sensitivity of her ass, which was still a bright shade of fiery pink, accented by the ten angry red welts that crisscrossed her bottom cheeks and marked where each of my blows had repeatedly landed.
The vision of that luscious ass beautifully displayed before me—with the pouting pink lips of her tight little pussy clearly, invitingly, visible between her widely splayed thighs—spurred me on to be especially vicious as I administered the final ten blows. My cock had stiffened to a ram-rod rigidity from of Caroline's reaction to my whipping. The girl nearly passed out from the pain as I delivered the final stroke.
I kept her knelling before me, sobbing in shame and humiliation, while I dropped to my knees behind her and pulled her well-whipped bottom cheeks apart. I then positioned my throbbing member at the tight little grommet of her anus and, as she squealed in pain at this fresh violation, I drove deep into her tight little bunghole. As always, I thoroughly enjoyed the act of crudely buggering the lovely Miss Caroline Martin. And so, stimulated by the unending sounds of her cries and sobs, I soon deposited a huge load of warm gism deep inside of her.
We were nearing our destination and so I took a few moments to compose myself and rearrange my clothing. I had Caroline lay on her back on the floor before me with her legs widely spread. For the final few miles of our journey, I amused myself by my using the pointed toe of my shoe to lewdly caress her fetching little pussy. When its leather surface was suitably coated with a glistening sheen of her cunt juices, I would raise my foot to her mouth and make the debased beauty lick its sticky surface clean.
It had been an enjoyable journey. A Bentley is, indeed, a most comfortable, luxurious, and wonderfully well-equipped machine. The addition of a delightfully compliant travelling companion like Miss Caroline Martin only added to pleasure of the trip. It made the time pass very quickly and I heartily would recommend that anyone embarking on such a journey be accompanied by such a traveller.
As I looked at her lying on the floor before me—the most intimate parts of her body's feminine charms openly displayed for my erotic pleasure—I couldn't help but remember that night in the cab not so long ago when Caroline had been so bold as to slap my face when I had innocently placed my hand upon her knee. How the mighty have fallen!!!!
The car rounded a corner and, in the distance, I could see the imposing iron gates of Stemwell Manor. On entering them, we travelled slowly up the tree-lined lane that led to the manor house. The house, an imposing Georgian structure, was located about three miles back from the road surrounded by lavishly maintained formal gardens. Various dependencies—stables and such—surrounded the house.
We travelled up the circular drive and stopped before the main door of the estate. I was pleased to see that Lady Fiona was there to greet us. Gino opened the door of the cab and we got out of the car.
“Basil, my friend, how good of you to come!” she said brightly. “And pretty Caroline, how lovely you look today. Welcome to Stemwell Manor.”
Caroline, still totally naked, stood timidly by my side, her tearful eyes downcast and her cheeks flushed with shame.
Two men stood by Lady Fiona, their eyes roaming freely over Caroline's exposed beauty. One of them was a handsome, muscular man of about forty, while the other was a mere lad of about eighteen.
“Basil, let me introduce you to Will Anders, the stablemaster here at the manor. He will be supervising Caroline's training this weekend. Billy there is one of the grooms.”
“She looks to be a fine specimen, Sir,” Will spoke. He had a thick country accent. “Might I have a closer look, Sir?”
“Of course,” I answered.
With a trained eye her carefully inspected the auburn-haired beauty—his muscular hands firmly squeezing one of her shapely thighs. He lightly ran his fingers over the angry red welts that stood out on Caroline's bottom. She winced.
“I see you must have been forced to administer some corrective actions during your journey, Sir.”
I nodded.
He spread her bottom-cheeks apart. Sticky gism, evidence of my recent buggery, oozed rudely from Caroline's asshole. Her face was bright red with abysmal humiliation as Will laughed loudly at this discovery.
“A very fine specimen, indeed....”
His hands came around to gently cup the girl's naked breasts. She shuddered. He lightly stroked the trembling globes.
“I trust, Sir, that there are no restrictions on the training measures I might employ?”
Caroline looked up at me with frightened, tearful eyes.
“None whatsoever,” I replied. He gave Caroline's nipples a painful tweak. She sobbed.
“Good, Sir. Very good.”
Will instructed Billy to put a leather collar around Caroline's slender neck and to cuff her wrists behind her. The boy nodded, a lascivious grin on his face. A leather leash was attached to collar and, as Billy went about these tasks, I couldn't help but notice that he had a huge erection. He made certain Caroline felt it, too, as his body pressed against hers while he tightened her restraints.
“If there's nothing else, Sir, I'll take this little filly up to the stable and get her settled in for the night. Come by later, if you wish, Sir....”
I nodded. Billy tugged on Caroline's lead and pulled her forward. She looked back over her shoulder at me with her eyes wide with frightened apprehension. Will slapped her smartly on her naked ass.
“Come along now, Missy,” he said sharply.
With an amused smile on my face, I watched the three of them walking down the path to the stable. Lady Fiona spoke to me.
“I'll have your things brought up to your chamber, Basil. Before dinner though, would you care to accompany me on a stroll through the grounds?”
I agreed and we set off. Fiona told me a little about the history of the manor. It had been the ancestral home of the Sternwell family and the present manor house had been built in the 1700's in a much grander style after a fire destroyed the earlier structure. The family prospered in the early years of the Industrial Revolution and were able to expand their holdings significantly. By the end of the last century, the estate was huge.
Fiona recounted that when Sir Oliver Sternwood died, his two sons inherited the property. Young William, the oldest son, was quite capable and the family's fortunes seemed to be in good hands. Regrettably, William was killed in the Great War and sole responsibility for administering the estate passed into the hands of the younger son, Andrew. Andrew, however, was a horrible profligate and, in just a few years, had succeeded in squandering the entire family fortune on women, gambling debts, and other personal weaknesses.
Facing financial ruin, Sir Andrew was most agreeable to a secret offer from the Rio 9 organization to acquire the property with the proviso that, for appearances sake, he be permitted to remain in residence at the estate. Indeed, he proved a most charming, gracious, and amenable host for the various activities the organization wished to conduct at the estate. It was, in fact, a marriage made in heaven and all parties were most pleased with the arrangements.
During the week, the estate would function similarly to the Fortress Ben-Abar where young women that had been acquired by the organization might be brought for additional training. The estate also was open on weekends for various special events hosted by the organization for its members. Secluded, private, and very lavish, it afforded the members of Rio 9 a splendid getaway to enjoy all the many activities that each member of the organization truly enjoyed.
We completed our stroll through the wonderfully appointed grounds before convening in the grand dining hall for a wonderful evening meal. We were joined at the meal by Fiona's travelling companion, Miss Audrey Meeks, a sandy-haired gamine who was about nineteen years old with a petite, childlike body. Miss Audrey ate her meal in submissive silence.
My enjoyment of the meal was greatly enhanced by the fetching blond serving maid who delivered the meal to our table. Dressed immodestly in a very low-cut skimpy maid's outfit with just a brief starched-white apron surrounding her slender waist, the ensemble left little to my imagination. The girl struggled to maintain her composure when, while bending over the table with the evening's meal in hand, I ran one of my hands freely up the satiny surface of her inner thighs and gave her knicker-covered mound a delicious squeeze. Obviously well-trained, she, somehow, succeeded in maintaining her station.
After our meal, Lady Fiona and I strolled out to the stable to see how Caroline was getting along. Billy, the groom, led us down the corridor of stalls until we reached Caroline's. As we passed several of the doors I could hear various women sobbing softly and in one stalls I could see one of the stableboys enthusiastically raping a fresh-faced redheaded girl. Billy opened the door to Caroline's stall. She looked up at me with a look of abject misery on her lovely face—her cheeks streaked with tears.
She was laying—naked, of course—on a bed of fresh straw with her hands still tied behind her. The narrow wooden stall was empty but for a metal bucket filled with water in one corner of the stall. I realized with delight that the once-haughty Miss Caroline Martin would be required to perform all of her body's natural functions in the confines of this narrow space and I knew how unpleasant that would be for her. I smiled....
Caroline, too, had been fed her evening meal, although I'm certain she found it far less palatable than the one I had just enjoyed. A plate by the door of the stall was covered with the cold, unappetizing, mixture of slop and table-scrapes that Caroline had been served. She had, somehow, managed to eat some of it, although I'm sure she found it most difficult to keep the vile mixture down. I was also certain that it was physically difficult for her to attempt to eat it with her hands still bound securely behind her back. The image of Caroline Martin—naked and on her knees, lapping up the revolting mixture like a hungry bitch-dog—was most amusing. I suspected she'd be required to finish the task of eating the remaining offering sometime before morning or else risk a rather stem retribution at the hands of her keepers.
She looked up at Billy with frightened eyes. He leered back at her lewdly. I could see in her dishevelled auburn hair the wet remains of a sticky discharge clinging to her lovely tresses and smeared across her cheek. Judging by the grin on his face, I suspected that Billy might have been responsible for this offering.
Grasping one of her nipples between my fingers, I pulled her painfully to her knees. I then bent over and teased and stroked her little slit until her body betrayed her modesty by generating an involuntary gush of wetness. I smiled and then kissed her full her lips.
“Sleep tight, my little one,” I whispered with mocking gentleness. “You have a busy day ahead of you tomorrow.”
As we left the stable I couldn't help but suspect and Billy and some of the other grooms and stableboys might be paying Miss Caroline Martin a visit before the morning came.
I was somewhat weary from the day's journey, and so I bid Lady Fiona a good evening and retired for the night. When I got to my chamber I heard a soft knock on my door. I was pleasantly surprised to see the little blond serving maid standing timidly before my door clad in just a skimpy, cotton singlet that barely reached her navel. Fiona had obviously noted my interest in the girl at diner and, to my delight, had made the necessary arrangements.
The little blond proved to be a most enjoyable fuck....
I awakened Saturday morning just as the first light of day became visible over the horizon. It was a cool, grey morning with a damp, heavy, mist in the air— perfect weather for “The Hunt.”
Dressed in our red and buff outfits, the twenty guests assembled in the dining-room for our lavish breakfast. As we were sitting down to eat, a brass horn sounded. Sir Andrew Sternwell entered the dining hall with a statuesque red-headed woman in tow. With her wrists tied in front of her, she was strikingly beautiful and completely nude. Sir Andrew introduced the woman as Jessica Gray. She looked, understandably, very frightened. He informed us that she would be the object of our quest—our 'fox' for the day. He then explained the rules of the Hunt to us.
On leaving the dining hall, the naked Jessica Gray would be taken deep into the forest that surrounded the estate. She would be given an hour's head start, while the hunting party finished their breakfast and readied their mounts. Jessica's task was quite simple: she was to try to avoid recapture by the hunting party for as long as possible. Sir Andrew informed the girl that she would be expected to avoid capture for a minimum of two hours or else face the consequences.
As she was being led out of the room, I remarked to Lady Fiona that I was uncertain as to what would motivate the girl to play the odious role assigned her and attempt to evade the pursuing hunting party. Fiona replied that the girl had been informed that, if she did not avoid being recaptured with in the mandated period of time, she would earn a week's stay with 'Whipper Nate'.
“Whipper Nate?” I asked.
She then told me the story of 'Whipper Nate Cobb'....
It seems that on the grounds of Stemwell Manor was an old grist mill dating from the 1700's. The mill was somewhat unusual in that, instead of being water-powered, this mill was man-driven. In those less enlightened days, convicted prisoners were required to work off their sentences by driving the heavy mill shaft under the watchful eye of the jailer, a rather sadistic gentleman named, Nate Cobb.
When Rio 9 took over ownership of the estate, the old mill was still there, although it had fallen into a state of disrepair. Sensing such a facility might be of value to the organization, the mill was repaired. Ironically, old Nate's great grandson still lived in the area. Also named 'Nate', he was most anxious to carry on the family tradition.
If a member of the organization felt that one of their female charges was in need of prolonged corrective action, she would be delivered to Whipper Nate. The girl would be summarily stripped naked and her head and hands would be placed in a wooden yoke mounted on a horizontal shaft that was affixed perpendicular to the main vertical drive shaft. Bent over at the waist, the girl's naked ass would be most prominently displayed. Whipper Nate, with a brine-soaked leather cat in hand, would stand behind his unfortunate victim and order the girl to start turning the shaft.
It was not an easy task—the shaft was quite heavy and the position is which she was tied was most uncomfortable, but Whipper Nate made sure she complied. If she stopped or slowed down at anytime, she soon felt Nate's cruel whip on her exposed bottom. Nate, although not the brightest of individuals, loved his work and would keep the girl driving the heavy shaft until she reached the point of total exhaustion.
As Jessica Gray had painfully learned at a previous session, an hour of such treatment was almost unendurable—an afternoon of it seemed like a lifetime. Facing the unpleasant prospect of a full week at the hands of Whipper Nate if she failed, Jessica would do everything she could to avoid that fate. She'd run as fast and as far as was humanly possible to elude us.
An hour had passed and we finished our lavish breakfast. The hunt party assembled in the courtyard. It was damp and chilly—the horse's breath clearly visible. I couldn't help but think of the fetching Jessica Gray running naked through the forest in this intemperate weather and of how uncomfortable she must find it.
The dogs were barking madly, anxious to begin the pursuit. We mounted our horses and, at the sound of the horn, set off.
The countryside surrounding the estate was quite rugged with a heavy growth of brambles and underbrush. There were several very steep ravines, as well as a number of swift flowing creeks to be negotiated. The water, as I'm sure Jessica had discovered, was very cold....
After about half an hour, the barking hounds had captured Jessica's scent and we spent the next forty five minutes closing in on her. When she was spotted on a distant ridge, the horn sounded and we set out after her in hot pursuit. Hearing it sound, Jessica turned, looked back at us, and then ran on in pure, frenzied, terror....
It was an amusing sight to watch—Jessica Grey's naked breasts and ass bobbing and jiggling most provocatively, as she plunged blindly into the rugged brush—ignoring the thorns, brambles, stinging nettles, and poison ivy that blocked her way. The horses and the dogs rapidly closed the gap....
Jessica emerged from an area of heavy overgrowth and ran into a more open area of the forest. Quickly, we surrounded her. Our little vixen was backed against a tree by the pack of yapping dogs that effectively kept her at bay. Her face was a mask of terror....
The horn sounded a final triumphant call as Sir Andrew dismounted. The girl looked quite the worse for wear as a result of her ordeal. She was bruised and covered with scratches from the thick underbrush—her naked body was smeared with dirt and mud, and leaves and brambles were stuck in her disheveled hair. Quickly, Sir Andrew tied Jessica's hands behind her back.
As the assembled hunting party watched, Sir Andrew informed the girl that she had failed to elude capture for the allotted time period and so, the very next day, she would be delivered to Whipper Nate for a week's stay. Jessica's exhausted body was racked with pitiful sobs as she heard this sentence pronounced.
Prior to returning to the manor house, there was one other ritual in which to partake. Sir Andrew led Jessica Grey to a fallen tree nearby, and tied her over it with her alluring ass prominently displayed. Each of the twenty members of the successful hunt party were invited to use that ass in whatever manner they saw fit.
Some, like Lady Fiona, amused themselves by blistering the upturned globes with their riding crops— giving the girl a painful foretaste of what awaited her at Whipper Nate's. Still others choose to avail themselves of her bottomly charms in a more intimate manner. Stimulated by the excitement of the hunt, I elected to satisfy my rut by leaving a sticky offering of warm gism deep in the hidden recesses of her snug little cunt....
When everyone had availed themselves of the opportunity to use the sobbing girl for their enjoyment, we set off back to the manor house at a leisurely pace. The morning fog had completely burned off and the day was warming rapidly. An exhausted Jessica Grey stumbled on behind Sir Andrew's horse. A rope—tied to her wrists behind her back—had been run up between her legs and tied to Sir Andrew's saddle. Its coarse, scratchy, surface only added to the girl's misery as it rubbed and chaffed against her already abused ass-cleft and pussy lips.
As we neared the manor house, my thoughts turned to my dear Caroline. To further add to her debasement, at Lady Fiona's urgings, I had agreed to have Miss Caroline Martin be and instructed in the art of dressage. I was most anxious to see how her pony training at the hands of Will Anders was progressing.
After delivering my mount to the stable, Lady Fiona and I set off down one of the well-manicured paths to find Caroline and Will. We rounded the corner of one of the buildings and there they were. The sight that greeted me was most enchanting....
Standing before us was a round, metal enclosure about twenty-five feet in diameter. Will Anders stood at one side of the ring holding a long, rather nasty-looking, leather whip in his hand. It was the sight of Miss Caroline Martin, however, that captured my undivided attention....
She was, of course, nearly totally nude—her only clothing a pair of high-heeled leather boots that extended up to her thighs. Her wrists were cuffed behind her back which caused her lush tits to stand out proudly on her chest. In the morning sun, her shimmering auburn hair glistened and was tied back in a ponytail which dangled down to about midpoint on her back.
An unusual leather bridle circled her head and a metal bit was thrust cruelly into her mouth distorting her facial features into a pronounced rictus. Attached to this bridle and bit was a set of leather reins that were tied to a free-moving metal arm about two feet above her head. This arm was, in turn, attached to a pole in the center of the ring. It meant that Caroline could only run or walk in a tightly defined circle.
Will Anders cracked his whip sharply on Caroline's naked ass leaving a rather nasty red welt. On its satiny surface I could see ample evidence of earlier corrective actions.
“Now prance, Missy!” he ordered, cracking the whip once again against the her defenseless bottom.
Caroline, her eyes glistening with tears, began to march slowly in an exaggerated gait, raising her knees nearly to the level of her swaying breasts. It was, needless to say, a most interesting spectacle to witness....
Will cracked the whip once again, this time squarely catching poor Caroline's pert, right nipple. The girl winced in pain.
“Come on! Get those knees up, girl!” he ordered. He cracked the whip once again and, with expert skill, was able to land the blow up between her thighs, directly on one of Caroline's sensitive cuntlips.
We watched for about an hour as Will put Caroline through her paces forcing the girl in turn to prance, trot, canter, and gallup—each command skillfully enforced by the stinging touch of his whip. Her progress was truly remarkable....
Will paused for a moment to give Caroline the opportunity to catch her breath. I congratulated him on his efforts and told him how pleased I was his accomplishments. He sheepishly accepted my compliments.
“She's had a good workout, Sir, and seems to be catching on quickly,” he said. “I've got a few others to work on today, Sir, so I'm going to put her in one of the walking rings for the remainder of afternoon.”
Caroline stood helplessly by—panting—her body covered with a sheen of sweat. Her wide tear-filled eyes searched into mine, looking for a hint of mercy. She didn't find it....
As Fiona and I followed, Will lead Caroline to another metal ring. He then tethered the reins from her bit to a metal arm attached to a pole in center of the ring. He explained that the only difference between these rings and the working ring that we saw first was that in these rings, the metal arm was motorized and would automatically pull the girl forward around the ring by the reins and bit in her mouth.
“These are walking rings are wonderful training devices, Sir. I can automatically set the pace at which the arm rotates dictating the intensity of the girl's workout.”
He started the motor and, as the device began to pull her forward, Caroline began to walk briskly around the ring.
“How long a workout will she get today?” I asked.
“I'll keep her at it for about four hours, Sir, changing the pace about once every twenty minutes to add variety to her workout.”
As I watched her walking briskly around the circular rings, her naked breast swaying rhythmically, I could hear her panting with exertion. The day had warmed up significantly since the early morning and I could imagine how unpleasant this exercise sessions would become for Caroline as the day wore on.”
“And when she's finished?” I asked.
“Well, Sir, she'll be taken back to the paddock area and given a long and thorough wash-down by the grooms. Once she's cooled down, she'll be taken back to her stall and fed.”
“I should tell you, Sir,” he added, a wide grin upon his face, “that I plan on taking her back to my quarters later this evening for some special training of a more personal nature.”
I laughed. “Splendid, Will. I'll leave her completely in your capable hands.”
“Very good, Sir.”
That evening, while Caroline Martin underwent her intimate training at the hands of the stablemaster, Will Anders, Lady Fiona and I enjoyed another wonderful evening meal. Afterwards Fiona invited me to her chambers to participate in an enchanting ménage à trios with her and her travelling companion, Miss Audrey Meeks. I eagerly accepted the invitation and thoroughly enjoyed buggering the little gamine while her pink tongue explored the flowing wetness of Fiona's pussy and asshole.
The following morning, while Miss Audrey Meeks endured her own session of dressage training, I accepted an invitation from Lady Fiona to accompany her on a carriage ride throughout the grounds of Sternwell Manor. When we entered the paddock area, I smiled broadly when I saw the 'team' that waited to convey Lady Fiona and I on our journey.
Our team consisted of a tall, tawny-skinned mulatto girl and Miss Caroline Martin. The two beautiful women were attached to a lightweight, two-wheeled cart designed especially for such this purpose. The manner in which the women were attached to the cart and their attire was most unusual.
Each woman wore a leather corset which served to chinch their waists in tightly and which also nicely displayed their delightful breasts. These corsets had rings set on each side just above the girl's hip bones to which their wrists cuffs were attached. A leather hood and a bridle had been fitted over each woman's head and a bit installed in each of their mouths.
The design of the cart was different than that which might normally be employed. It featured a pair of yokes which extended out from the axle of the cart and which passed between the girls' legs. I noted that, at just the right point, a pair of large dildoes were mounted perpendicular on the shaft of the yoke. These dildos entered and were driven deep inside the two girls' pussies and assholes.
A leather cuff was tied around the girls' elbows causing their arms to be pulled tightly and painfully together behind their backs. Cords were attached to these cuffs and they had been threaded back to a rings mounted on the top of the yoke about two feet behind the girls. These cords were passed through the rings and their ends were tightly to the girls' long, flowing ponytail. This would hold the yoke in place and would mean that most of the weight of the cart and its rider would be borne by the girls' scalps, their shoulders joints which were strained from the position their arms were tied in, and by the dildoes deep within their lower orifices. A final cord was passed through the yoke in front of the girls and secured to a ring mounted on the front of the girl's corset. These cords passed on either side of the girls' clitorises and served to squeeze the little pleasure organs and make them all the more visible.
The position did wonders for the girls' posture. The cords attached to their pony tails held their heads painfully erect. With their elbows tied behind their backs, their breasts protruded nicely. Their prominence was further enhanced by tiny silver bells that, by means of spring-loaded clamps, had been attached directly to the girls' nipples.
Fiona and I seated ourselves on the bench seat of the cart. I grasped the reins, picked up a long whip, and cracked it painfully on Caroline's naked buttocks to get her started. She uttered a muffled cry and began. You could hear her and the other girl moan as they strained to start the heavy load of the cart moving—the pressure on their scalps and shoulders was particularly painful at this point.
Still, the girls pushed themselves to endure it, knowing if they didn't, they would pay for it by the cruel and repeated kiss of my whip on their defenseless naked bottoms. Once the cart was underway, the forward momentum of it made it somewhat easier on them. Each step they took, however, caused the yoke to bounce slightly shifting the dildoes in their cunts and asses uncomfortably and tugging painfully on their scalps and shoulders. Throughout the ride, I could hear the bells attached to their nipples tinkling softly.
On level areas of our route, Caroline and the other girl were able to move the cart fairly easily. When they came to a hill, however, it was another story. I could hear them straining under the heavy load to pull the load up the incline. I was forced to use the whip repeatedly on their exposed buttocks to compel them to accomplish this task.
It was a long and delightful journey for Lady Fiona and me. At one point, we passed another cart travelling in the opposite direction. I could see the look of total misery on the faces of the girls pulling that cart. I sensed, as we traversed the rolling grounds of Sternwood Manor, that Caroline and her partner must be experiencing an equal amount of discomfort and that their faces were similarly painted with the distress they must be feeling....
That afternoon, Caroline and I motored back to London. She knelt on the floorboards before me—her lips wrapped around my cock at my command. I told her two pieces of information that greatly added to her unhappiness. First, I informed her that it was my intention that we would visit Sternwood Manor repeatedly during the coming summer months. I was most anxious to see how my lovely captive would progress in her equestrian training under the cruel direction of Will Anders. I was also curious to see how she might perform as the target of our early morning hunt. I had told her about 'Whipper Nate' and I could see the palatable look of fear in her eyes, as she contemplated the unpleasantness that she would experience if sent to him for a visit.
On a more immediate note, I informed my little fellatrix that Lady Fiona and I had agreed that we would exchange for the intimate services our two lovely captives. While I enjoyed the sensuous delights provided by the lush young body of Miss Audrey Meeks during the upcoming week, Caroline would be sent to Lady Fiona for the same period and would be required to serve her completely. Grinning at the prospect, I wondered how my poor Caroline would enjoy the tender touch of Lady Fiona Savage?
I awaited the arrival of Miss Caroline Martin that afternoon with great anticipation. After emerging from my bath, I admired my naked body in the full length mirror as I thought about what was in store for the delectable beauty who, for the next week, would be mine to play with in the manner I most enjoy. She would soon come to know my body quite well and the anticipation of that made my pussy wet with excitement.
At thirty-eight, my body was still attractive and had grown even more sensitive and responsive with each passing year. My breasts had gotten fuller but were still firm and inviting with my large aureole and pronounced nipples. The raven-black hair on my head was matched by the thick patch between my legs which accented but did not hide completely the full pink lips of my cunt. As I thought about what was in store for Caroline, my clitoris became engorged with blood and stood erect waiting anxiously for the enforced oral stimulation it would soon receive from Basil Rothberg's auburn-haired captive.
I dressed and then went to check on Audrey to ensure that she had completed the preparations for her stay with Sir Basil. I could see that she was experiencing a great deal of distress at the prospect of being given to him for the upcoming week and her mind was undoubtedly imagining what might be in store for her during that time. I told her that, knowing Sir Basil, he would undoubtedly come up with some very imaginative and painful activities to help her pass the time during her stay with him.
I heard the doorbell and Audrey and I went downstairs to receive Sir Basil and his reluctant companion. We had arranged for them to arrive in time for afternoon tea and they were on time. The four of us then retired to the parlor to enjoy this pleasant repast.
As an amusing diversion, Basil and I had agreed, this particular afternoon, to dress our respective submissive companions as innocent schoolgirls. Each was attired in a conservative, white cotton blouse with a narrow necktie, a blue woolen blazer, and a plaid, knee-length skirt. Each girl wore knee socks and patent leather shoes. Their flowing tresses had been tied back into girlish ponytails. The outfits made each of them look several years younger than they actually were and, indeed, a stranger passing them on the street would, undoubtedly, have assumed that they were actual schoolgirls.
While Sir Basil and I enjoyed our afternoon tea, we had the two of them stand before us. I have often found that women feel more vulnerable and exposed if they are forced to exhibit their body's most private parts while still essentially clothed. The fact that they still wear their apparel but that it is no longer provides a modest covering to their body's feminine secrets can be an effective tool in adding to a girl's humiliation and unease.
Accordingly, we forced Caroline and Audrey to stand before us with their skirts held up around their waists. In keeping with the costume of the day, each of them was wearing simple cotton knickers beneath their skirts. Basil delighted in lewdly fondling the two 'schoolgirl's' pussies through the skimpy covering these garments provided.
We then had the two girls lower their knickers to their knees and, as they stood there before us, their cheeks flushed with shame, Basil and I discussed in great detail, the most intimate parts of their young bodies.
Audrey Meeks was two years younger than Caroline and her pussy was more tiny and petite. Her pubic mound was covered with just the lightest array of pale blond hair that did little to hide her slit. Audrey's inner cunt lips were largely hidden and her bottom was slender and firm—almost boyish in appearance.
Caroline Martin's cunt, on the other hand, was more of a woman's. Her inner cunt lips were clearly visible—full and fleshy pink. Basil told me that Caroline's pubic mound had been shaved at Ben-Abar but that he had permitted it to grow back and, although shorter than it might otherwise have been, it still was more thickly covered than Audrey's. Her bottom, too, was fuller and more feminine in appearance than Audrey's.
Despite the differences in the external appearance of the two girls' genitals, by careful probing of the openings with his fingers, Basil reported that each was delightfully tight. He explored their pussies and rectums as they both trembled with shame. His fingers soon glistened with the flowing honey that their cunt had produced. When he was finished, he next compelled each girl to use their mouth to clean his finger of the other girl's wetness. The look of disdain on their faces as they performed this degrading task, was most delightful.
I could sense that Basil was anxious to begin to enjoy the pleasures of Miss Audrey Meek's lovely young body and I, too, was anticipating the pleasures that Caroline would soon give to me. We bid each other good afternoon and he and Audrey departed leaving me alone with the fetching Miss Caroline Martin.
I poured another cup of tea and instructed Caroline to disrobe completely. Standing before me, she quickly shed her clothing until she was completely nude. Caroline had been well trained at Ben-Abar and quickly assumed the submissive posture she had been taught there—her hands behind her neck. With her legs spread widely apart, she stood with her eyes downcast and a pale flush of red colored her checks. She looked tremendously attractive....
As she stood before me in that open, exposed posture, I instructed her to recount for me her exactly what had transpired last Saturday evening with the stable-master, Will Anders, during her visit to his quarters. I heard her emitted a muffled sob and saw her cheeks become even more flushed with embarrassment. I knew the sorts of activities to which Will required the woman in his care to experience, and I knew how demeaning and distasteful such activities must have been to a refined, well-bred, woman like Miss Caroline Martin.
In graphic and explicit words, I made her relate each detail of the degrading and defiling experiences she had endured at the hands of Will Anders. Her voice was barely audible—soft but trembling with shame and embarrassment. She had to struggle to keep from breaking into uncontrollable sobs as she related her tale. I knew that by forcing her to recount these adventures to me, she was also forced to re-live them and I could see the shame and humiliation that caused her. Each violation and degradation, again, became real for her. Recounting these violations filled her with unimaginable shame, as she was forced to tell another individual of the indecent and shameful liberties that had been imposed upon her.
Like an unwilling Scherazade, she was made to prolong the telling as long as possible. I insisted that she provide even more humiliating details to her descriptions of what transpired that night in his quarters—to repeat and expand on parts of her ordeal that I could tell she found to be particularly distasteful. Tears of abysmal shame were streaming down her beautiful cheeks. It was most amusing to witness.
I made a note to myself to relate to Will's superiors my admiration and appreciation for the imaginative cruelty he had imposed on the lovely Miss Caroline Martin. I would recommend that he be rewarded for his innovation in adding to her total degradation.
Prior to our evening meal, I instructed Caroline to get on her hands and knees and to use her lovely pink tongue to worship and kiss my feet. The once-haughty heiress looked delightfully submissive as she knelt, totally naked, before me and went about this degrading task. I made her kiss the upper surface of my heels, and then lick them until the leather surface glistened with her saliva. Next, I required her to lick the dirty soles of my shoes clean with her pink tongue. I could see the look of revulsion on her face as she complied with my demand.
When it had been completed, I had her remove my shoes and use her mouth directly on my feet. The feel of her wet tongue on my stocking clad feet was most delightful. I then had her reach beneath my skirt, undo my garters, and remove my silken hose. I brought my foot back to her mouth and instructed her to kiss and lick its entire surface. The feel of her satiny tongue on my skin was most enjoyable. I next made her carefully suck each toe of my foot as if it were a miniature cock. She proved most skillful at this task, and I forced all five of my toes in her mouth. As I playfully sawed my foot in and out of her widely stretched mouth, I remarked that I hoped Sir Basil truly appreciated her oral efforts, since I was now convinced she was an excellent cocksucker. Caroline could only blush at this crude description of her. This entire episode made me most anxious to enjoy Caroline's oral skills on other, more intimate parts of my anatomy.
That evening we enjoyed a splendid meal. I had made Caroline come to the table—still nude—and sit in a special seat fashioned for just such an occasion. Standing upright in a vertical position from the seat of the chair were two dildos designed to fit snugly in her lower openings when seated upon it. It was most enjoyable to watch her position her cunt and ass above these probes and, with her eyes clenched in shame, slowly lower herself down upon them—impaling herself upon the twin shafts. I could see the look of discomfort upon her beautiful face as she ate her evening meal with these two intruders deep inside of her.
I summoned her to my bed chamber latter that evening. I had donned one of my favorite outfits—a skintight black leotard. The garment was cut low in the front so that my breasts were clearly visible and could be easily liberated, should I so desire. The crotch of the garment was open, as well, so that I, or my little plaything, could obtain easy access to those area of my body that provide me with the greatest erotic pleasure.
I had Caroline kneel beside the bed, while I showed her some of the toys I intended to use on her during her stay with me. I opened a wooden box for her and watched as her eye widened with disbelief at what she beheld within.
The box contained a special set of nine intricately-carved ivory dildos in a variety of sizes. Imported from India, they had been in my possession for some time—a gift from an old friend. The smallest one was about the size of an average man's erection. They each increased in size proportionally both in width and length. The entire outer surface of each dildoe was covered with tiny carved protrusions. I knew that these could cause a tremendous amount of sensation for a woman as they probed the inner recesses of her intimate anatomy. Those sensations could be either extremely pleasurable or extremely painful depending on how the dildos were inserted into the woman's body. I would make certain that, during the coming week, Caroline experienced an ample amount of both types of sensations.
I made Caroline lay face down on my bed with her hips draped over an overstuffed bolster which served to nicely elevate her lower body. Her wrist and ankles were tied to the cornerstones of the bed in a position that left her alluring body totally open and completely defenseless. Beneath the tempting mounds of her ass, Caroline's cunt was beautifully displayed—her pink cuntlips slightly parted—her clit visible below. She looked like a virgin maiden draped across a sacrificial altar of yore. I reached down and spread her luscious asschecks apart. Her cunt opened wider and I could see the pink mouth of her vagina—a clear liqueur oozing out of the opening. Above it, Caroline's delicious little bunghole was clearly visible—tightly clenched and extremely vulnerable....
I bent down and kissed her directly on her cunt. I could feel her shudder helplessly, as she felt me suck the little button of her clit deep into my mouth and flick it playfully with the tip of my tongue. As I stimulated her, she began to moan softly. I then shifted my attentions to the wet mouth of her vagina and savored the fresh wetness—her body's most secret essence. Finally, I moved still higher to bath the tight little grommet of her anus with my tongue, as she squirmed helplessly beneath me. I worked my tongue inside of this opening and tasted its heady flavor—leaving it wet with my saliva.
It is always a wicked enjoyment for me to give a bound female captive unexpected pleasures—to pull erotic responses for her reluctant body—to make her respond brazenly in ways that only serve to further shame and humiliate her. When I was finished with my oral caresses, I stepped in front of her and, selecting the smallest dildo from the wooden box, strapped it around my waist. I stepped behind her—my rigid ivory phallus bobbing lewdly before me. Climbing on the bed, I crawled between her widely-splayed thighs and positioned the tip of the shaft at the opening of her cunt. I drove into her ruthlessly, as she screamed in pain at the sudden intrusion....
Throughout the remainder of the evening, I repeatedly raped the sobbing beauty, both vaginally and anally. I used the first three of the dildoes in the box, saving the larger ones for later in the week.
Between each ravishment, I would pause, lower my lips to her battered genitals and carefully, skillfully, draw waves of unexpected and unwanted pleasure from her helplessly confused body. Caroline's response to my ministrations became almost a torment in and of itself for the poor girl.
Later that evening—tiring of my little game—I climbed to the head of the bed and seated myself directly in front of the bound beauty. My thighs flanked her tear-streaked face—the open crotch of my leotard framing my gushing cunt which lay just inches before the girl. I twisted my fingers in her flowing auburn hair and pulled her face to the source of my womanly pleasure. With a riding crop in one hand, I urged the tightly bound Miss Caroline Martin to give me the sensual pleasure I demanded. I kept her at it throughout most of the night....
Morning came and, after compelling Caroline to again crawl between my thighs, I again commanded her to skillfully employ her lips and tongue for my pleasure. I, then, accompanied her to the bath adjoining my quarters and watched as she went about her intimate morning ablutions. My presence added to the girl's shame, as she was denied the simplest privacy to complete these tasks. While she was seated on the bidet, I explained to the girl what was in store for her today.
Today, Miss Caroline Martin, the well-bred, aristocratic, debutante would serve as my personal maid and would be required to perform a variety of domestic chores for me. I had her tie her long and lovely auburn hair back in a ponytail and then led her to a closet and gave her the outfit she would be required to wear today. It consisted of a maid's cap and a transparent maid's apron. The apron was very tiny—its hem barely reached the lower fringe of her pubic mane. Higher up, it scarcely covered breasts—the outer edge of the garment extending only to the middle of each of her nipples. The garment was heavily starched and must have been uncomfortable as it abraded against her sensitive titties. A pair of thigh-high, black hose, garters, and black leather heels completed her outfit. She looked charmingly exposed as she stood before me in this skimpy garb.
For her first task of the day, I escorted her to my closet and indicated that she should pick up the laundry hamper and open it. The hamper was filled with my soiled silken lingerie. Caroline Martin's first task would be to clean these intimate garments for me.
I am a woman who truly enjoys the erotic delights that are involved in my line of work. I must confess that my cunt is nearly always flowing from the sexual excitement and pleasure my chosen profession entails. Throughout each day, I frequently and repeatedly, saturate my undergarments with my abundantly flowing feminine juices.
The method I had selected for Caroline Martin to clean these soiled garments was most enchanting. I instructed her to pick up each article of intimate apparel and place its crotch panel—that area of the garment that had collected the greatest amount of my body's flowing essence—directly into her mouth. She was, then, to use her saliva to wet this area of the garment and suck it clean.
I watched her as she went about this degrading task. As she brought the silken fabric close to her mouth, I could see her nose react to the aromatic scent emanating from each garment. Not wishing to incur my wrath, however, she somehow forced herself to open her lovely mouth and place the silky fabric inside. When the dried juices came in contact with her saliva, the flavor that still clung to each garment filled her mouth with a rich and earthy taste. A look of near-revulsion covered her facial features each time this occurred. The hamper was quite full and, as she slowly worked her way through it completing this demeaning task, tears were streaming down her lovely cheeks.
When she was finished, I led her downstairs and informed her of her next assignment. She was to dust all of the rooms on the first floor. Again, the task was not all that unusual for a domestic to perform, however, the manner in which Caroline was required to complete the task was distinctive.
I cuffed her wrists together in front of her and then forced her to bend over the back of a chair. As she lay there with her charming ass beautifully displayed, I took the handle of a feather-duster and worked it deep inside her rectum. Miss Caroline Martin would be required to complete her task by carefully and skillfully manipulating the protruding feather-duster with her shapely bottom over all of the surfaces to be dusted. I gave her a stem warning about the consequences if she were to be so careless as to knock something off of one of the tables or if she was foolish enough to allow the handle of the feather duster to slip out of her tightly-clenched asshole.
It was most enjoyable to watch her go about this task. She would totter awkwardly on her high heels and then slowly lower her lovely bum over the area to be dusted. The act of squatting down would cause the handle to begin to slid out of her anus. She would have to tighten her sphincter or else try to find a solid surface to awkwardly force the handle back inside of her. Once it was again in place, she would be required to move her bottom to complete her dusting, being ever so careful not to dislodge anything from the table. It was a tremendously difficult task and her face was a mask of misery as she struggled to perform this assignment. At one point, a glass bud vase was knocked to the rug. Fortunately for Caroline, it was not broken, but I noted the infraction and reminded her that she would pay the price for her carelessness later that evening.
After our noon meal, I gave my charming little maid her next task—one that would take her the remainder of the afternoon. My house contains a large entry hall with inlaid tile floor. Caroline would be required to scrub this area completely clean. I had her fill a large bucket with hot, soapy water and carry it to the entry hall.
To make her task that much more interesting, I tied her wrists behind her back. I then gave her the special scrub brush that she would be required to use as she completed this chore.
This coarse-bristled brush had a large wooden knob on the back of it. I had Caroline place this knob in her mouth and then tightened a leather strap that passed through the knob around the back of her head. In order for my little maid to scrub the entry hall, she would be required to dip her face completely in the soapy water and then lower her face to the ground and scrub it clean.
Without the use of her hands to steady herself, it was a most difficult task. Her face was soaked from being repeatedly immersed in the soapy water and it put a tremendous strain on her as she awkwardly lowered her the brush to floor to scrub it clean—her entire weight balanced on the triangle of the brush in her mouth and her widely splayed knees. As she performed this task, her fleece-lined pink pussy and asshole were totally visible. I would, on occasion, add to her degradation and shame by lewdly fondling these exposed parts of her delectable anatomy as she struggled to complete her degrading task.
After she completed soaping down the floor, I made her complete the job by forcing her to rinse it clean in a similar manner....
At the end of the day, I permitted her a few minutes to make herself presentable for dinner and after that meal we again retired to my bed chamber. I strapped her face down on my bed in a spread-eagled position with her hips nicely elevated. I then selected one of my favorite whips and administered a particularly brutal whipping on her back, bottom, and lower thighs as punishment for her carelessness earlier that day.
Later that evening, I used the middle three dildoes on the shrieking Caroline Martin—crudely ravaging her precious pussy and bunghole....
The following day, Caroline accompanied me to an elegant townhouse in a fashionable part of London, as I went about one of my favorite weekly rituals. Rio 9, under the watchful supervision of Miss Lucy Wickesham, operates a very exclusive private club—a brothel, if you will—for a wealthy clientele with a taste for the unusual. All of the clients at the Club are interested in some form of dominance or submission.
Some of the visitors to this establishment have tastes similar to those of Sir Basil and seek to obtain the services of a lovely submissive woman for a few hours of erotic pleasures. If the client is willing to pay a suitably high price, a number of charmingly submissive girls are available for these purposes. Although such sessions do not provide the total sense of mastery and control present in the sort of permanent relationship enjoyed by Sir Basil with Caroline, such an encounter, however brief, can be a most enjoyable diversion for a gentleman inclined to such activities.
An equal number of clients, however, sought services of a different sort....
I had always been amazed at the number of powerful, wealthy, gentlemen who would willingly pay large sums of money for the privilege of submitting themselves to almost unimaginably demeaning and debasing treatment at the hands of a cruel and dominant woman.
One day each week, I visit the club and provide such treatment to a very select group of wealthy clients. As a dominant woman by nature, I find it most enjoyable to have an affluent, influential gentleman grovelling— naked at my feet—while I turn their defenseless bottoms a fiery shade of crimson. It is amusing to see to what ends they will abase themselves for the opportunity to merely glimpse my precious womanhood. The price for them to fulfill their burning fantasies and be given the opportunity kiss or lick the treasures between my legs is far, far, higher, yet it is a price that they seem more than willing to pay.
While I attended to my scheduled appointment, I had something special in mind for Miss Caroline Martin. On entering the Club, I escorted Caroline to meet my good friend, Lucy Wickesham. I introduced them and instructed Caroline to disrobe so that Lucy might inspect her lovely body. Standing naked before us, her eyes downcast, Caroline was a vision of submissive beauty.
“Oh, Fiona,” Lucy exclaimed as she inspected the girl. “How precious she is! Our guests will undoubtedly adore that cute little bum of hers.”
We led Caroline down the backstairs to a special room in the cellar. When I opened the door, Caroline emitted an audible gasp.
The sight that greeted us as we entered the chamber, was of one of the attractive submissive girls tightly bound in a most ingenious manner. She was bent over at the waist with her belly resting on a padded punishment horse. Her ankles were secured to rings on the floor so that her shapely legs were pulled widely apart. Her body was facing the wall and her head and wrists had been secured to a special set of stocks built directly into the wall in such a way that those parts of her anatomy were completely hidden from view. Her ass, however, was prominently displayed and a special spotlight had been focused on her out-thrust buttocks. It served to nicely illuminate the current condition of the poor girl's ass.
Standing next to the girl, was a container filled with freshly cut willow switches and, judging from the condition of the girl's exposed bottom, it was clear that the willow switches had been put to good use. Her ass was crisscrossed with angry, red welts which entirely covered the area from the base of her spine to the girl's knees.
The way in which she was tied also nicely displayed the woman's cunt and asshole. It was obvious that these openings had recently, and repeatedly, been used by visitors to this chamber. Gism oozed from her bunghole and strings of it hung in ropey strands from the mouth of her cunt.
Any member of the Club could visit the room at any time. In it, he would always find one of the submissive girls displayed in this manner. He was free to use her exposed bottom in any manner he wished—he could blister her exposed asschecks with a bare-bottomed spanking. He could thrash her naked buttocks with one of the handy willow switches to within an inch of her life. He could roger her pussy or bunghole with his cock to his lascivious heart's content. And all of this would occur in complete anonymity....
Because of the way in which she was tied, the girl would never know who had used her in this way. She could only lay there, for as long as we wished, totally helpless and completely exposed—enduring whatever abuse the steady stream of anonymous visitors to the chamber chose to inflict upon her defenseless bottom.
Two of the attendants untied the lovely girl from her bonds and released the stocks so that she could remove her head and wrists. Still gagged, the exhausted girl was quite the worse for wear as a result of the day's activities. Her lovely cheeks were streaked with tears and she was having trouble standing up. I could see in her eyes, however, a glimmer of profound relief that her unpleasant ordeal was, at least for this day, finally over.
For Caroline Martin, however, it was about to begin. She watched—her eyes wide with terror—as the naked girl was led from the room. Lucy then came to her and bringing a large leather ball gag to Caroline's tightly clenched lips. It took a vicious twist on one of the girl's nipples to persuade her to open her mouth and allow the intruder in.
In short order, Caroline found herself bound in a position identical to the one the other girl had just occupied. She looked very alluring with her ass out-thrust in that inviting manner. I ran my hand down her exposed slit, fondling her lewdly for a moment to help her realize how totally helpless she now was.
My first appointment—a distinguished Member of Parliament with a taste for extreme flagellation—was due to arrive in a few minutes. I left Caroline alone in the chamber to await the arrival of her first visitor of the day, while I donned my leather corset, high heels, and hose, and retrieved the barbed cat-o'-nine-tails I intended to use viciously on the MP's naked bottom.
Two hours later, I paid Caroline a visit to see how she was faring. I entered the small room off of the main chamber into which Caroline's head and hands protruded. From the appearance of her face, the first two hours she had spent in the chamber had not been easy ones. Her cheeks were wet with tears and her brow knitted with pain.
There was a small peephole in the wall which permitted me to peer unseen into the adjoining chamber and see who was about to make use of my beautifully displayed victim. A distinguished looking older gentleman entered the room and boldly bent over Caroline's exposed bottom. Caroline clenched her eyes shut in shame as she felt him gave her a deep and lingering kiss directly on the puckered mouth of her anus—his tongue snaking deep inside of her. He chuckled softly and then selected a supple willow switch from the nearby container. I could watch, although Caroline could not see, as he carefully tested the flexibility of his chosen implement, preparing to administer the first blow. It landed like a gunshot across her naked cheeks and her facial reaction and muffled scream of pain was enchanting.
Since my next appointment was not scheduled for another half hour, I stayed there and watched Caroline as she endured this gentleman's enthusiastic attentions. Her face revealed each detail of what she was experiencing—the pain as the switch ripped repeatedly into her bottom cheeks—the shame as he worked his rigid member deep inside her rectum. Her tear-filled eyes searched desperately into mine seeking mercy or attempting to comprehend my cruelty. I merely smiled at her....
My next appointment was due to arrive shortly, so I kissed her brow and departed.
When I returned a short while later, she was between visitors. I entered the main chamber to inspect Caroline's pain-filled bottom. On the floor between her widely splayed legs was a pool of amber liquid. I could only assume that, at some point during her painful ordeal, she had apparently lost control of her bladder. The evidence of the brutal treatment she had endured so far was clearly evident on the well-whipped globes of her ass. From a nearby shelf, I picked up a small jar and opened it. Dipping my fingers into it, I spread the contents of the jar over her abused bum.
Under normal circumstances, the lightest touch of my hand on her battered bottom would have caused her a great deal of pain. The contents of the jar, however, only served to magnify that pain.
Instead of providing comfort, however, the jar contained a specially formulated salve which would adhere to the girl's bottom. The gooey mixture was heavily laced with salt which served to set every welt on her torture bottom ablaze with fiery agony. Through the wall, I could hear a muffled shriek and see her body stiffen with pain. I knew it would continue to burn for a long, long, time....
My next appointment was due to arrive. The wealthy industrialist had paid a small fortune to have me blister his ass with a bullwhip, in exchange for which, I would permit him the honor of tonguing my bunghole....
Late that evening, we untied the exhausted Caroline Martin and drove home. She was forced lie on her side on the back seat of the car during her ride home—so painful was the condition of her ass. She had done quite well that day but had paid a frightful price. Her knees were weak with exhaustion and her bottom was a tapestry of painful red welts. She would need a day so to recover, and so I escorted her to her chamber, assisted her into her bed, and—turning out the light— listened as she cried herself to sleep. The next two days I spared Caroline any additional physical punishment, only requiring that she kneel between my legs and provide me with the extensive oral attention my almost insatiable sexual appetite demanded.
On Friday evening I brought her to my chamber and again tied her facedown to my bed. I removed the three largest dildos from their wooden box and set them before her. I could see the color drain from her face as she looked at them and imagined the pain that they would inevitably cause her. That pain did, in fact, become a vivid reality for the girl in the next few hours. It was delightful to listen to her shrieked madly into her pillow, as I drove repeatedly into her. She passed out on two occasions but I quickly revived her with an application of smelling salts.
I was growing anxious to again have Caroline satisfy me orally, so I slowly withdrew the largest of the dildos from her horribly distended asshole, as the sobbing girl moaned beneath me. It was a cold, damp night that evening, and so I had a large fire blazing in the fireplace in my chamber. It had done its job well and the room had grown almost uncomfortably warm. I stripped off my leotard and stretched out across the bed, informing Caroline that I wanted her to start with my feet and slowly work her tongue up the length of my body until she came to my bunghole, and then bury that delightful morsel as deep inside that tight opening as she possibly could.
She began her task, lovingly bathing every inch of my skin with her silky, pink tongue. It produced a wonderful array of most enjoyable sensations. After lavishing oral attention on my feet, she began to work her way up my legs. Her tongue caressed my calves, the area behind my knees, and then up my thighs. I spread my legs even wider to give better access the sensitive inner areas of my thighs.
I shifted my weight slightly which served to elevate my bottom. It was my signal to her that I expect that intimate area of my anatomy to be the next focus of her attentions. Suddenly, she stopped....
Momentarily angry, I turned to look at her. Then I realized what she must have seen. Indeed, she was staring intently at a particular spot on my bottom....
I spoke to her softly.
“What did you find, my dear?”
She looked up a me with a surprised and puzzled look upon her face.
“I... I don't understand... “, she said quietly.
What she had discovered upon the lower surface of my right buttock—permanently burned deep into my skin—was a small design with an “R” and a “9” in a circle. It was identical to the mark on Caroline's ass....
I explained to her my story....
“Yes, Caroline. I, too, wear the mark of Rio 9 upon my body. I was merely seventeen years old—an innocent schoolgirl—when I was abducted. I, honestly, recall very little about the details of the actual abduction. I vividly remember, however, awakening in the parlor at the fortress Ben-Abar and learning what awaited me. You can, I'm sure, remember the terror you felt at that particular moment.”
“I was introduced to my trainer at that time. It was not Jason Vanwell, but rather his predecessor, a handsome, middle-aged Italian count named Giovanni San Marco. His niece is, in fact, the woman you know as the Countess. I remember the shame I felt as, under threat of the whip, I disrobed before him....
“It was the first of many violations I would experience at the fortress.”
“My training was, undoubtedly, quite similar to that which you received. It ended, as yours did, with a glowing brand being pressed into bottom cheek leaving the mark you see.”
“I was sent back to London and delivered to my new master, Lord Derrick Savage. Lord Derrick was most imaginative in the cruelties and indignities he inflicted upon me. When I first arrived, I was certain I would not survive the experience. I can assure you, my dear, that he did things to me that you can only imagine. Then, somehow, I found the strength within me to survive. I took the pain and humiliation he offered me and made it mine. Because of my ability to endure everything that Lord Derrick inflicted upon my, in a strange way he came to respect me.”
“For five years, I was the sole recipient of all of his cruel efforts. Then one day, two lovely young sisters came to our house—Lord Derrick's newest purchases from Rio 9. As a means of training these two women, Lord Derrick ordered me to assist him in their education. We discovered that I had a natural gift for this type of instruction and that I was most effective in my treatment and training of them.”
“Gradually my status changed. No longer was I merely a slave, but had become something more. I became more valuable to Lord Derrick as a Mistress rather than a slave. Over the years, a steady stream of lovely young women—obtained from the organization—learned first hand of my skills.”
“A genuine fondness developed between Derrick and I and, after 10 years of total, devoted service to him, he asked me to become his wife. We were married and were very happy for the time we spent together. We had similar tastes and enjoyed similar activities.”
“Over the years he had become more and more involved in the day to day operation of Rio 9 particularly in the procuring of both new clients and new young women to meet the needs and desires of those clients. I proved most helpful to him in this regard.”
“When he died, I—of course—inherited his wealth and status. I also inherited his position with the organization. I have continued to perform this function to this day. I do my job quite well, Caroline. I'm sure, based on what I have shown you in the past few days, that your realize just how effective I am in carrying out my duties for the organization.”
“You see, Caroline, no one ever leaves Rio 9. Although my role within the organization has changed over the years, I remain a part of it and will until the day I day. You will too, my dear, although I suspect your story may not have quite the same ending as mine....”
“And now, my dear, since you now know all my secrets, it's time for you to complete the charming task you were performing so beautifully before we paused for this little digression.”
I reached back to pull my bottomcheeks widely apart, “And now, Caroline, I want to feel your pretty pink tongue exploring deeply the fetid recesses of my asshole....”
When Sunday afternoon came, Caroline sat on the divan in the parlor waiting for Sir Basil's arrival. The afternoon light was streaming through the window, illuminating her delicately sculpted facial features. She looked very pretty. I was most grateful I had been given the opportunity to enjoy her lovely charms this past week.
She was looking out the window. Her pale green eyes seemed to be focused far away. Although her face seemed composed and calm, I couldn't help but wonder what was going through her mind? Certainly the memory of all that I had recently imposed upon her was still fresh and vivid in her mind.
She would, undoubtedly, be grateful to no longer be forced to submit to my demands. I knew, however, that the prospect of returning to Sir Basil was not one that she would be anxiously looking forward to.
Her thoughts, perhaps, were on who she once was and what she now had become. Perhaps, however, they were on who she might become in the uncertain future that awaited her....
Two years have now passed since that terrible day when I was captured and delivered to the Fortress Ben-Abar. So much has happened in that time. Everyone that I knew prior to that day believes that I am dead. And, in a very real sense, they are correct in that belief.
The girl I was then is dead and I have taken her place. Based on what I have learned since my capture, I can now see how foolish and shallow she was—how her actions, her vanity, and her arrogance laid the foundation for her capture and all that has happened since that time.
This time has been a period of discovery for me. During the days since my capture, I have had my childish innocence forcibly taken from me, but that innocence has now been replaced by wisdom and, I now realize how much richer I am for that knowledge.
I can vividly recall the terrible pain I have repeatedly experienced—my screams of anguish—the sense of total violation I have been subjected to—the tears of shame and humiliation I have shed repeatedly since my capture. I have certainly learned much—far more than I might ever have imagined—of the cruelty that exists in many men or women. On more occasions than I could possibly recall, my body has been the recipient of that cruelty. The terrible abuse that I have received in that time at the hands of Jason, the Countess, Aziz, Sir Basil and the many, many others—the almost unimaginable pain, the humiliations, the total depravity I have been subjected to—this experience has taught me much about them, but also more, much more, about myself.
I have discovered a strange sense of personal pride in the knowledge that I have endured all that they have inflicted upon me, and that I have survived. That knowledge has created, deep within my soul, an ember of desire that is very real, that glows, and that cannot now be extinguished. The persistent wetness between my legs—the tingling excited arousal I feel in my nipples and clitoris as I recall all that has happened to me—every painful, humiliating encounter—only tells me that it is foolish for me to try to deny it.
The person I have become cannot, I fear, survive without the indescribable sensations that comes from enduring and triumphing over the physical and mental abuse I have been subjected to. I no longer fear what they might do to me—what torments I will be asked to experience. I find myself longing for them.
During the time since my capture, I have changed from a foolish girl into a woman—trained to give pleasure, but also to experience and savor the subtle nuances of both pain and pleasure.
When I think of who I was and who I have become, I realize that my life is now filled with strange, but truly wonderful paradoxes—
In my frequent pain and agony, I now find pleasure—as rich and intense as any imaginable....
In my humiliation and degradation, I now find an enduring personal dignity—a sense of who I was meant to be....
And in my captivity, I have found freedom....
One recent morning—dressed in the skimpy maid's attire Sir Basil compelled her to wear—she had been in his study polishing the heavy dark oak furniture when, on a table by his chair, she noticed a stack of newspaper clippings and photograph. Although she knew she ran a terrible risk if she was caught, she picked up one of the clippings and looked at it.
The photo was of a young, stunningly beautiful dark haired woman—elegantly dressed—arriving at the theater. Caroline wondered who she was....?
Before she could read the caption, she heard her master coming down the hallway towards the study. Quickly, she put the clipping back in the stack and crossed to the opposite side of the room but not before noticing that the other photos an the table all appeared to be of the same woman....
Later that week, something else had happened. She was stripped naked and Sir Basil was again using her for his sexual pleasure. He had begun the session with a particularly brutal whipping. Caroline had nearly passed out form the frenzy of his blows which fell freely on her breasts, ass, and inner thighs Her voice was raw and hoarse from her desperate shrieks of anguish. When finished, he had tied her hands behind her back, forced her to her knees, and locked her ankles into a kneeling position that left her legs spread widely apart. Next, he secured biting clamps to her sensitive and well-whipped nipples—forcing her to bend over at the waist so he could tie a short length of cord to each clamp and attach it to a ring in the floor The position caused her ass to be nicely displayed and it was her ass that was the focus of his attention. Gradually, he worked his throbbing member deep into the tight channel of the her rectum. Her squeals of discomfort and humiliation only spurred him on to bugger her with greater vigor. Each thrust of his manhood deep within her bowels caused her body to be pushed forward, pulling painfully on her tortured nipples.
Caroline felt him quicken his pace as his excitement built. He had picked up his whip and was now lashing her back and bottom as he drove deep inside her and began to moan.
When he came, she heard him cry out over her own anguished cries, a single word:
“Julia...!!!”
Later that week, as she was walking past his study, she overheard part of a telephone conversation... “I know, Fiona, but I must have her...!” A pause.
“My god, woman, I know I am a man of some financial resources but that price, I fear, is beyond even my limits...”
Another pause.
“But I don't understand, it was only 30,000 for the last one....”
She could hear him pacing behind his desk.
“I suppose I could consider that option. I have certainly been most pleased with her and have enjoyed having the opportunity to use her as I choose... but I would consider letting her go, if it meant I could have this one....”
A pause.
“All right, It's madness I know, but that is what I wish to do. I trust you will make the necessary arrangements?... Good. I'll send the bank draft with the first part of the payment to you in the morning....”
For the next several weeks, Basil had been somewhat distracted. The attention he had paid Caroline had been perfunctory, at best. It was as if he were merely going through the motions, even when he was fucking her or otherwise using her body.
One morning, she noticed his spirits seemed dramatically brighter. She had no idea what had changed, but he seemed positively boyish. As she picked up the tray with the breakfast dishes upon it, she happened to notice the lead story in the morning paper.
There was a photo of the beautiful, glamorous, young woman whose picture she had previously seen in the stack of clippings on his desk. The headline read, “Film Actress Julia Stephens Feared Lost in Plane Crash at Sea—Authorities Seek Wreckage....”
A month had passed... a strangely lonely month for Caroline Martin. Each day she had gone about her duties, expecting the treatment she had come to anticipate to continue, but nothing had happened. She had waited for him to call her—to use her in some painful or degrading manner. He had not....
It was as if she had ceased to exist. At first, she had welcomed the respite from the pain and humiliation that had been such a part of her existence since her arrival from Ben-Abar so long ago. Gradually her attitude changed....
There was an emptiness in her life and she found herself—against her will, almost—craving the familiar fear, shame, and terror she had come to know so well. Every night she would go to her room and get undressed. She would lie on the bed and wait for his call—each minute like a lifetime—as visions of cocks and whips filled her mind.
Late in the evening, after waiting restless in vain for his summons, her hand would unconsciously slip between her thighs. Her fingers would part the hair-lined lips of her cunt, and she would begin to slowly stroke her clit—hoping to find a release from the visions that possessed her.
It was only by remembering the worst—the most vicious whipping, the most brutal rape, the most degrading acts—could she find any release, however brief and unsatisfying it might be....
Then, one night it happened. She had gone to her room, gotten undressed, and laid on the bed waiting— hoping—he would call. Two hours passed, the time creeping slowly by. She was about to drift off into sleep when she unexpectedly heard the sound of the doorbell and the muffled sound of voices from the parlor. Her heart began to pound. She wondered who had arrived?
Then she heard his voice through the speaking tube, “Caroline, my pet, please come downstairs. We have guests.”
Her heart began to pound rapidly in her chest. She rose from the bed, glanced at her naked body in the mirror and stepped into the hallway. She was filled with a strange mixture of dread and anticipation as she slowly descended the stairs, her naked breasts swaying gently with each step....
She stopped outside the door of the parlor, knocked softly, and waited until she heard Sir Basil bid her enter. At his command, she entered the room. She stepped in front of her master, placed her hands behind her neck, and lowering her head. Obediently, she spread her legs widely, and stood in the pose she had been taught—awaiting her master's next command.
“Look at me, Caroline,” he said, lifting her chin till her eyes met his.
“I'm afraid I have some bad news for you, my precious. Our time together has reached its end and you will soon be leaving us. You see, my dear, I found someone else....”
He turned her head to the right. Caroline's her eyes widened as she saw the large wooden crate standing in the corner of the parlor. It was open, and in it, she could see a nude, dark-haired woman. She appeared to be just now awakening from the drug injection she had received prior to her journey. She was tightly bound with ropes which circled her arms, ankles, and waist. A piece of adhesive tape secured a gag in the woman's mouth.
Despite these bonds, Caroline could see that the woman was stunningly beautiful.
“This, my dear Caroline, is Julia Stephens who will be joining me here and sharing the attentions you have come to expect from me.”
As he said this his fingers slowly traced their way down her neck and teasingly circled her sensitive and erect right nipple.
“I believe you already know our other guest.”
Caroline turned and looked at the man standing at the fireplace, his back towards them. He turned. It was Jason Van well!
He smiled at her—the same evil smile she had come to know so well at the Fortress. She felt herself begin to tremble as she heard his familiar voice say, “Hello, Caroline, my dear....”
Basil spoke again, his hand continuing his downward journey until his ringers found and spread the petals of her cunt. He slowly played with the sensitive nub of her clitoris.
“I would dearly have loved to have had the opportunity to keep both of you here. I'm certain I could have come up with some very imaginative games for the three of us to play....”
His probing fingers found the mouth of her vagina. She was soaking wet....
“I'm afraid, regrettably, that it will be financially impossible....”
He began to roughly work three of his fingers deep inside her.
“Before you leave me, my dear Caroline, I want to tell you how much I have enjoyed having you here and seeing you suffer at my hand. The satisfaction it gave me to see you put in your rightful place was worth every penny it cost. It's just what a haughty, spoiled bitch like you deserved....”
Caroline was sobbing now—tears of pain and fear running down her cheeks. Sir Basil continued, his voice filled with a chilling glee....
“Jason has told me some of what will soon happen to you, where you'll be sent. I do believe in time, my dear, that—in contrast to what you'll soon be experiencing—you'll come to regard the time we spent together as a pleasant memory.... as pleasant as a Sunday stroll in St. James Park. One might almost feel sorry for you.... almost.”
He withdrew his fingers from her sopping pussy and wiped them on her breast.
Coldly, he added, “Good bye, Caroline. I hope, in the future, when you are being forced to endure a particularly painful or degrading activity, that you will remember me.... and remember that I was the cause of it all.”
“Jason, my good man, would you be so good as to get this worthless whore out of here....”
“As you wish, Sir Basil,” Jason said simply— grasping Caroline by the arm and escorting her out of the room.
As she was being led from the room, she saw Basil pick up a vicious looking whip, and walk to the nude, bound beauty—now fully awake—that awaited him. She was trembling in fear and her eyes wide with terror....
“Hello, Julia, my pet....”
And so Caroline Martin left the house of Sir Basil Rothberg. A cape was thrown over her naked body and she was led to a waiting car. With Jason by her side, they had driven through the most fashionable neighborhoods of London—areas that the aristocratically born Caroline knew well.
As they travelled the darkened streets, Jason had placed his hand on her knee and slowly moved it up her creamy smooth thigh until he found her cunt. Her legs parted obediently and he freely played with her womanhood, teasing her clit, stroking the moist petals of her vulva, and probing deep inside her body's most secret recesses. Beneath his skillful, but surprisingly gentle touch, Caroline's hips swayed involuntarily and she began to moan softly. She reached her orgasm as they arrived at their destination....
Rio 9 owned and maintained this fashionable house located in one of the most exclusive neighborhoods of London for use by its members. In recognition for his exemplary service at Ben-Abar, the Countess has given Jason a month's holiday to spend here—sharing the lovely estate with his beautiful submissive companion, Miss Caroline Martin. For a month, before she began her final journey, she would be his—another generous reward granted him by his grateful employer.
As Caroline knew from her personal experience at Ben-Abar, Jason Vanwell was a man of imaginative cruelty. Yet, while performing his duties at the Fortress, he was somewhat constrained by the restraints of the Countesses' progressive training program and by the knowledge that the young women in his care—so new to their role of as slaves—would ultimately be passed to purchasers and owners who rightly might wish to be the ones to explore some of the more extreme and violent areas of erotic art.
Here, he felt no such restraint with Caroline Martin. Indeed, the Countess encouraged him and had given him a free hand to venture into forbidden areas of activity that would normally be unavailable to him.
During that month, the fashionable mansion—so well-built, with its solid, thick walls—had echoed to the almost unending screams of Caroline Martin as Jason Vanwell had subjected her to nearly every cruelty and indignity imaginable. In one sense it was advanced training—preparing the girl for the degradations that awaited her in her not-to-distant future.
In that month, Caroline had reached a new level, as well. No longer merely an unwilling captive, an incredibly powerful sensual craving had been awakened in her. She was now a true slave—submissive in every way—alive only when being subjected to the most extreme treatment at the hands of a skilled master like Jason Vanwell. With his many years of experience in the task of training young women, he was able—for a time, at least—to satisfy her hungry, masochistic demands.
A day arrived when Jason announced that to Caroline that she was to now begin the final phase of the journey that had begun so long ago. With him by her side— dressed in a simple, but modestly tailored suit—they had driven to Victoria Station. Jason carefully explained what was expected of her and made the necessary arrangements for her journey. He gave her a few final instructions.
With his hand upon her arm he walked her to her compartment. An onlooker would have seen a strikingly attractive couple—she, prim and proper in her conservatively tailored suit, but very beautiful—Jason, virile and handsome. At the door to the compartment, he paused and looked deep into her pale, green eyes. He spoke to her softly, “And so now, Caroline, we go our separate ways. I'll always remember the first time we met. You were once so proud and haughty—incredulous that anyone would have the effrontery to lay a hand on you. I'll always treasure the memory of your total violation, Caroline. Taking from you your pride and dignity and reducing you to the status of a well-trained, submissive whore was a truly marvelous experience. The spoiled girl I first met at Ben-Abar is gone and has been replaced by something infinitely more interesting—a woman of uncommon passion.”
“I have truly enjoyed the time we have spent together, Caroline, and I've enjoyed subjecting you to every painful indignity I could think to inflict upon your lovely body. In a little while, at the end of your journey, others will take over from where I left off. You will, I expect, find them to be even more imaginative than I. Believe me when I tell you, Caroline, you still have many things to learn—many thresholds of humiliation, pain, and endurance still to explore.”
“I'm afraid you won't find what awaits you to be easy or pleasant, Caroline. Not that you have any choice in the manner. You will endure whatever you are subjected to....”
“Still, if you remember all that you have been through and everything that I have taught you at Ben-Abar and over the last month you may find the strength to endure what you will soon be subjected to. I truly hope so....”
Tears, triggered by a combination of terror and sadness, filled her eyes. Jason bent over and kissed her full upon the mouth. She felt his tongue—the same tongue that she had so many times felt profaning the most intimate and secret recesses of her body—enter her for one last time.
“Good bye, Caroline,” he said simply, as he stepped away from her.
He helped her into her compartment and then stood on the platform, watching as the train slowly pulled away from the station....
Caroline Martin spent her journey eastward in the private compartment that had been provided her. Special arrangements had been made, and so she was undisturbed by porters or border guards during her journey. At any time, at any stop, she might have left the train—gone to the authorities—and picked up the pieces of the life she had lost so long ago, but she did not...
The world that she had known as a haughty, young, aristocrat had vanished forever for Miss Caroline Martin. She could never return. And although she didn't know what lay before her, her more recent past had changed her in ways she could not previously have imagined. Those experiences—at the fortress Ben-Abar, with Sir Basil, and most recently with Jason again— had made her ready for whatever fate held for her. And so she sat by the window—alone—and watched the European countryside glide slowly by her. The train swayed gently, its rhythmic motion and the anticipation of what awaited her keeping her in a constant state of semi-arousal.
Through her journey, her mind continually replayed all that she had experienced and endured since her abduction so very long ago. The memory of each degradation and violation—each pain-filled session at the hands of Sir Basil and his friends, Jason and the Countess— lingered in her memory like a haunting dream. She alone knew how desperately she longed for those dreams to again become real....
She yearned to reach between her legs—to slip her hand beneath her skirt and into the waistband of her silken, but now sodden, panties. She knew that just a few stokes on her fingers on her turgid clitoris would give her some kind of release—however temporary— from the maddening ache between her legs. Still, she restrained herself. Jason had given her a final command prior to her departure, firmly forbidding her from masturbating during her journey.
He knew that by denying her the release that she so desperately craved, he would inflict a cruel, but effective torment for the lovely young woman he had so totally come to dominate. Although no one would know if she had disobeyed this command, like the slave that Caroline Martin had become, she obeyed it—enduring the incessant agony that this frustrating denial of her sensual release caused her.
As the train made its way eastward across the European continent, Caroline's mind tried to imagine what awaited her. Her terror was real, but so was the powerful sense of anticipation that she was feeling....
The train finally arrived at is destination in Istanbul, Turkey. As had been arranged, she was met by a large, swarthy-looking man and led to a waiting car. He said nothing to her. She entered the rear cab of the car where a robed woman, dressed in a traditional black robe—the Muslim “chardor”—waited for them. The woman silently indicated that Caroline was to enter and she did so. The door shut and locked behind her and the car set off. Caroline's heart was racing....
In silence they drove through the crowded streets of the bustling city. Through the window Caroline could see the slender minarets of the city's many mosques. Street vendors hawked their wares—golden chains, roasted pistachios, thick, aromatic, coffee from silver samovars. It was as if she had entered a different world and, indeed, she had. She sensed that everything familiar, everything she had ever known, was behind her. And she could never return....
They soon reached an elegant older hotel. The driver and the robed woman silently led her inside and to a room on one of the upper floors. The driver stood in front of the door while the woman sat in a chair with Caroline standing before her. The woman lowered her veil revealing a strikingly beautiful face. She spoke in a heavily accented voice....
“Disrobe, take off everything.”
Caroline's hands were trembling as she unbuttoned the expensively tailored jacket she was wearing. She placed it on the bed next to her. She then reached to her side and undid the skirt she was wearing—gingerly stepping out of it. Her silken blouse was next. She felt a slight chill as she pulled it off her shoulders....
She noticed that the driver had moved in front of her watching her every movement. Her cheeks flushed.... She drew her slip over her head.
Standing before the woman and the driver, she remembered the first time at Ben-Abar that she had been ordered to disrobe by the Countess and vividly recalled the overwhelming shame she had felt. Despite all that she had experienced since her capture, she still felt a twinge of shame each time she was made to reveal her body's most intimate secrets to a total stranger. Now, however, that shame was mixed with an undeniable measure of excited arousal. She next undid her garter belt and slid her silken hose down her shapely thighs.
Standing before in just her lacy brassiere and panties, she felt their eyes roaming over every inch of her body. She hesitated for just a moment and then reached back and unhooked her brassiere. Her perfect breasts sprang free. Her nipples were rock-hard with excitement. Still visible upon their surface were faint red marks—a lingering reminder of her last session with Master Jason. She wondered when and who would mark them next....
She could see a hungry, lustful look in the driver's eyes, as she hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her panties. Slowly, she drew the frilly garment down her legs and stepped out of them. Totally nude, she dropped them on the bed next to her.
The lessons Caroline Martin had so painfully learned at Ben-Abar were not forgotten. She placed her hands behind her neck, meekly lowered her head, and spread her legs widely apart. She stood, submissively, before the robed woman in the pose of the true slave she had become. The woman nodded at the driver who reached down and gathered up Caroline's clothing in his arms.
The seated woman reached up and placed her hand Caroline's lower belly. Caroline felt her muscles tighten involuntarily beneath her touch. Her hands moved lower, across the mass of fleecy auburn curls between Caroline's legs and to the wet pink lips of her cunt. She moaned softly as she felt the woman's fingers enter the wet mouth of her vaginal opening. She could feel her warm wetness flowing freely over the dark-haired woman's hand. Instantly, she began to move her hips sensuously over the woman's probing hand, as she brazenly sought to obtain a release from her long pent-up passion.
The woman spoke to driver, “The little slut is dripping wet, Omar, but still is very tight. She'll bring a good price....”
Caroline saw that the driver was holding crotch of her discarded panties to his nose, freely inhaling the heady scented fragrance of her body's essence that clung to the garment and provided vivid evidence of her long smoldering lust. She, again, felt her cheeks flush....
She was moaning softly as she lewdly ground her cunt over the woman's outstretched hand. She realized that she must look like a wanton whore, as she writhed before them in unbridled passion. Caroline finally felt herself approaching the precious orgasm that had been denied her since she began her journey. Just a moment longer, she knew, and it would wash over her like a pounding wave upon the shore. She wanted it more than she had wanted anything in her entire life....
At just that moment—just as Caroline was about to climax—the woman pulled her hand away.
“No!!!!!!” Caroline moaned in frustration.
The woman spoke to the man who nodded, and with Caroline's clothes in hand, left the room. Caroline looked at the woman hungrily— her eyes burning with unsatiated lust.
“Please.... please...”, she whimpered, begging the woman to grant her the release she so desperately craved. The woman only smiled wickedly at her and shook her head. Caroline sobbed in despair.
The door to the room opened and the driver returned carrying a flowing black garment. It was chardor, just like the one the woman was wearing.
“Put it on,” she ordered. “In keeping with local customs, you will wear this for the remainder of our journey.”
Presently, Caroline's lovely body was encased head to toe in the flowing garment. Her auburn hair was completely hidden by the veil which also covered all of her facial features. Only her pale green eyes suggested that she was something other than a native Arab woman.
Caroline and her companions returned to the car. Night was rapidly falling, as the car travelled through the winding streets. Soon they were out of town. A full moon shimmered above the Bosporous as they drove eastward. Caroline was very tired and soon felt herself drifting into a deep sleep.
Her sleep, as always now, was filled with haunting images of violation and debasement. The driver repeatedly heard her moaning and crying out in passion throughout the long night's drive. Memories of past torments and imagined future ones filled her dreams....
When morning came, they were far to the east. They stopped briefly for a morning meal before beginning again. It was a hot, dry, and dusty journey. Further and further east, they travelled always in total silence. In late afternoon, they reached a crowded, sprawling city. The car made its way through the winding streets and finally pulled into the courtyard of a large house. They stopped.
The woman led Caroline inside. It was surprisingly cool inside. Caroline was led through a long series of richly ornamented rooms. In one chamber, they stopped. The woman spoke to Caroline.
“Disrobe,” she ordered, simply. Caroline complied, and soon stood naked and trembling before the woman—her eyes downcast....
Two other young woman entered the room. Silently, they led Caroline to an alcove at the side of the chamber. A bath was located in the alcove and the two woman skillfully set about washing the journey's dust from her body. It felt wonderful. As she felt their hands roaming over her body, Caroline felt herself becoming aroused.
Sexual arousal was not their purpose, however, and soon the women began performing other grooming tasks upon the auburn-haired beauty. When they were finished, she stood naked before a full-length mirror and looked at her reflection. She was stunningly beautiful....
Her female travelling companion returned and carefully inspected her. The woman nodded with approval and dismissed the two young attendants. Without a word, she stepped behind Caroline and put a set of leather cuffs on the girl's wrists. A collar was then secured around her neck. The silent woman them clipped a leather leash to it and led the naked Caroline out of the room.
They walked through the winding corridors. Caroline blushed repeatedly as they passed male members of the household staff. Finally, they came to a large central room. Caroline's eyes widened with disbelief when she entered....
It was a scene out of a medieval fantasy. About fifty robed men were in the large, ornately-decorated, room. Many were reclining on overstuffed pillows, enjoying a sumptuous meal. In their midst Caroline also noticed a number of scantily-clad or nude young women kneeling beside the men. Some were submissively feeding their Masters, while other were providing service of a more intimate nature. Directly in front of her, a raven-haired beauty was fellating a bearded sheik. Just to her left, Caroline saw a red-headed girl, who looked to be no older than eighteen years old, flung over a low bench while a truly obese giant of a man raped her anally. In front of die girl, another man was stroking his stallion-like cock until—with a moan—he ejaculated, spattering the girl's tear-streaked face with his copious seed.
Caroline was led to an arched alcove at the side of the room. Quickly, the leash attached to her collar was secured to a ring at the top of the arch. Caroline glanced around the room.
Lining the room on each side, were a series of arched alcoves and, in each of them, Caroline saw a strikingly beautiful young woman—bound as she herself was— and each totally nude. Several men were clustered around each woman. She could see them being poked, probed, fondled, and caressed in the most lascivious manner imaginable.
At one end of the room, Caroline could see a raised dais. A buxom blond had been tied spread-eagled on the dais with her outstretched arms tied above her head—her legs pulled widely apart. Two swarthy men—each stripped to the waist—stood at either side of her. They each wielded a vicious looking cat-o'-nine-tails and were enthusiastically whipping the screaming woman—providing entertainment and amusement for the assembled guests. From her anguished cries and frenzied pleas, Caroline could tell the woman was an American.
One man worked on the woman's breasts, causing the full round globes to dance in torment. The other man stood behind her. Her back and buttocks were crisscrossed with angry red welts. A blow to the woman's back would elicit a tortured scream, and the helpless woman would pull forward in her bonds. At just that moment, the other man would land a blow squarely across the nipples of her out-thrust breasts. More screams would follow and the woman would jerk backwards into the waiting path of the other's whip. Sometimes, the man standing behind her would very the pace by bringing the whip up between the woman's widely splayed legs—the cruel thongs ripping into the most sensitive and intimate parts of the woman's body. Caroline found herself wishing she could take the woman's place so that she might experience the exquisite torment she must undoubtedly be experiencing....
Caroline's reverie was soon interrupted by the arrival of three robed men to her alcove. They began to crudely inspect her naked body. Hands cupped and caressed Caroline's breasts, fingers twisted and squeezed her nipples. She felt their hands pulling her buttocks widely apart and felt other fingers twisting into her tight nether openings. Caroline blushed when she realized how sopping wet her cunt was....
She lost track of how long it went on. Man after man came up to her, as she stood there—each man freely mauling, pawing, and pinching her body's feminine charms. All of her body's secrets were theirs to enjoy and profane, and many of the men present in the room took ample advantage of the opportunity offered them. Caroline could not understand their comments, but she could tell by their leering smiles and taunting, wicked, laughter that her body must have pleased them.
Late in the evening, she heard the shrill voice of a man shouting at one end of the room, while he loudly clanged a metal bell. The men that had most recently been inspecting her body quickly returned to their places in the middle of the room. It was time for the sale of the ten women to begin!
At the dais, the sobbing, French, brunette-beauty that had taken the buxom blond's place between the two men with the whips, was being untied and led away. Her body was covered in a tapestry of welts....
Six of the bound, nude, women proceeded Caroline to the dais. Each of them was stunningly beautiful— each with a look of fearful, frightened anticipation in their eyes. As they passed by her, Caroline noticed the small circle with the letter “R” and the “9” burned onto the buttocks of each of them.
The bidding for each of the trembling nude women was vigorous and went on for some time. There was great excitement as the bids went higher and higher. At the completion of every sale, there were shouts of joy from the successful bidders, as well as moans of frustration and anger from the unsuccessful ones. And, at the completion of every sale, the beautiful naked woman that had been the object of the bidding was led to her new owner...
Then two swarthy men walked towards Caroline. It was now her turn....
Miss Caroline Martin—born to great wealth and privilege in London, England twenty-three years ago—once the toast of London society—was led, naked, down the aisle and stepped onto the dais before the assembled crowd of wealthy sheiks and sultans. She placed her hands behind her neck, spread her long, beautifully-shaped legs widely apart, and lowered her head submissively. She felt every eye in the room roaming over her lush, exposed young body. Her firm breasts with their rock-hard nipples, her satiny belly, her fleecy auburn cunt with its wet pink lips and erect clit, were clearly visible for all to see.
Caroline's chest was rising and falling sensuously with each breath she took. She was afraid, but also tremendously excited and aroused. Trembling slightly, she took a deep breath, as a hush fell over the room....
Far from her childhood home and everything she had ever known as a rich and spoiled young woman, the nude girl stood—totally exposed—waiting for the bidding to commence. Her heart was pounding in her chest. There on the dais, the lovely Miss Caroline Martin waited anxiously, for this new phase of her journey—her life as the lowest and most debased of submissive female slaves—to begin....
At the Fortress Ben-Abar, Miss Caroline Martin, the abducted English debutante, continues her erotic educatioo under the stern tutelage of Jason and the Countess. At the completion of her training, Miss Caroline is sent to London to her new master, Sir Basil Rothberg. There she is introduced to more debauchery, and begins a new journey to personal erotic fulfillment.