by Mark Andrews
“No, don’t do that. Do it, and do it well but don’t make him think you like it. I don’t know what he might do then. Just make him think you’re obedient, that’s enough.” And so, when she entered the room to find Jane and Molly a tangle of legs and arms on the floor, kissing, rubbing their bodies together and exciting each other’s sex, she stood and stared down at them with her face quite neutral.
“Get down with them, girl. I want to see you as enthusiastic as them or you can anticipate the whip to your back.”
She dropped down and Jane and Molly were surprised - and then pleased to have her. Everybody adored her for her good nature, friendliness and her willingness to help others, but they also hungered for her lithe, athletic body with its honey-gold skin and beautifully toned muscles.
They reached up to her and kissed her while their hands roved all over her slender form. Breasts were touched together and rubbed until her nipples were as erect as theirs. Fingers delved into her vagina to excite her clit to a tingling arousal. She found it wasn’t as bad as she had imagined, even if it was still not her thing. She was pleased for although she would have simulated the reaction Alex wanted, this was so much easier.
Alex watched for an hour then dismissed them.
But that night he had Jason fuck her while he watched.
It was nothing like her love-making with him a week earlier. That had been a wonderful, tender experience; this was a return to the rape and sexual abuse of former days. Jason warned her with his eyes to react accordingly and she did, showing her apparent distaste for him and his body by facial expression and body language. Alex was fooled. She was hard put to simulate it though. She loved this man who was apparently raping her. Loved everything about him. His body of course, that superbly crafted and magnificently defined and toned physique that would be hard to beat anywhere; his handsome face and sunny smile (when Alex wasn’t around, otherwise he still had to show his contempt for all four of the slave girls); but most of all his love for her.
He was quite impersonal this time however. He raped her brutally, knowing Alex was getting his rocks off as much by watching his muscles flex and his boyish buttocks contract and thrust, as from her body beneath him.
He knew Alex would soon move up closer and run his hands from his shoulders to his feet, delighting in the smooth warm muscle flexing beneath his fingers... He had always accepted this until now as part of the price he had to pay for his upbringing in luxury but now, with the realisation of his love for Angela, he also knew how indecent it was. Still, he also knew the best plan was to go on as if nothing had changed. Alex was unpredictable and above all, Jason didn’t want to lose her now that he had found her and if Alex even remotely thought there was anything between them he would be enraged. Jason was his boy and no-one else was going to have him.
Alas, it came sooner rather than later. Alex had his eyes on the presidency of the nation and the local party boss was one way to help him secure the nomination. He was coming to dinner and Alex would do anything to accommodate him. His wife was present too but that mattered little. She was nothing but an ornament. During the meal, during which he had ordered that Angela was to serve John Barker exclusively, he made sure she obeyed his earlier commands to the letter: “Thrust out your breasts at him, slut. Make sure he gets a good view of your cunt and your shapely bottom from time to time. I will have you soundly thrashed if I detect even a hint that you are not really trying to please him...”
She did and Barker’s hand found its way over and around her flesh on many occasions as she served his soup, main course, wine and dessert as well as coffee and brandy afterwards. Like the mayor, he ignored women and was not at all put off by the presence of the mayor’s wife. Later, as they sat over their brandy and cigars while Angela stood demurely nearby, Alex asked the party boss if he found the girl attractive.
“She’s an exquisite piece of slave flesh, Alex... How much d’you want for her?” That she was the property of the city and not the mayor, didn’t come into it.
Alex Brown smiled. “She’s yours, John, free, gratis. Take her home tonight...”
Angela kept her face neutral but inside she was torn apart. The mayor had just given her... given her to another man, as if she was an item of property. She reflected, of course that was what she was these days. A slave, to be used for whatever purpose her owner wished. Sex, labour... whatever. She was his to be sold or disposed of at his whim.
She didn’t even get to say goodbye to Jason or the others. John Barker ordered her out to his limousine and made her lie on the floor so he could rest his feet on her belly and breasts. It was so humiliating. She had to lie on the floor space between the front seat and the back and after she had taken off his shoes and socks, had to submit to his toes feeling her all over but especially they roved over her breasts and into her vagina while she squirmed in shame. Thus she went to her new home.
Chapter 6
Once there she was taken in charge by Sun, a huge Korean who was as ugly as Jason was handsome. The man was big and very muscular but his muscles were not attractive. Gross and strong but only that. He wore nothing but leather pants over his huge body, leaving his torso bare. She was taken directly to Barker’s harem. That was what he called it and that was what it was. It was got up like an eastern seraglio, even to his throne in the main room. He had repaired to his room adjoining and there his body- slaves had undressed him and draped a silk robe over his narrow shoulders, for John Barker was the direct antithesis of the mayor, at least physically. He was short and skinny and his body quite scrawny. His skin was red and wrinkled and his sparse hair mousy and lank.
He was decidedly unattractive physically. Socially, mentally and sexually he was even worse. He was a boor socially. He was powerful and so commanded obedience but he had no social graces at all. Mentally he was smart but he used his intelligence to demean anyone weaker. Sexually he was quite depraved. Sex for him involved humiliating and torturing his women, abusing them emotionally and physically, as Angela was about to find out.
She was brought into his presence by Sun and had to stand there while he looked her naked body up and down, very insolently. Of course all the other girls, dozens of them, were also naked but it didn’t seem to help. Finally he spoke. Well, let us see your charms, dance for us, slut.”
She stared at him. Dance for him? She knew he didn’t mean the slow shuffle that young people call dancing these days. Inasmuch as she was now apparently in a sultan’s harem, he probably meant belly-dance but although she had seen this exotic movement performed in movies, she really had not the slightest idea even how to begin. She knew she would have to do something however. She had seen Sun’s hand move to the whip on his belt and she didn’t want to taste it.
She tried. She wiggle her hips and moved her hands and legs as she thought it was done. Of course it was a parody and in no time Barker clapped his hands. “What a disgusting performance,” he said. You will be punished for daring to insult us with so mean an offering... But first, Imogene...?”
A tall, dark-complexioned girl rose gracefully to her feet. She was as naked as the rest of them and her body was voluptuous. Full-breasted and very narrow-waisted, her thighs were full and so were her buttocks. She was perfectly built for the belly-dance. Her hair was black and straight and gleamed and it hung right down to the small of her back, she now began her dance and Angela stared, goggle-eyed at the sheer beauty of it. It was of course, sexy. A belly-dance is supposed to sexy but it was also sensuous. It was also a study in skill and artistry. Angela couldn’t believe the girl was so able to keep parts of her body quite still while other parts moved so violently. She watched in silent appreciation, realising this was quite as difficult as ballet and just as demanding on her body. As the dance proceeded, Angela realised there was a story to it. Imogene was telling a tale of a poor girl driven to a life of prostitution. It was at once forlorn and beautiful and Angela
thought it quite wonderful, despite the lasciviousness of the actions of the lovely girl’s body.
It was over at last and she bowed to Barker and returned to her place. He pointed to Angela. “Bring her,” he said curtly. They descended into the cellars of the old house and to a room on which John Barker had lavished a great deal of money as well as much personal care and attention. It was not a room for the squeamish, however, nor for those who were not interested in pain - a great deal of pain.
As Angela was dragged in she stared around in horror while Barker watched her. “Here is where you learn to obey me, instantly and without murmur. Here you will learn that when I wish you to perfect a new skill, you do quickly and with enthusiasm, for not to do so will bring you here to be punished for your sins ...” He moved over to the rack, that prized instrument of torturers throughout the ages and stroked the age-worn, dark timbers lovingly. “The rack,” he mused, “has been used for centuries to elicit information as well as to punish. It might be useful now... See the heavy chains with their manacles that are attached to ankles and wrists... See this bed? It drops down to the floor, leaving the victim dangling between the chains. A wonderful instrument of torture ...” He left it, as if disappointed to be doing so but it was a sham on his part for he well knew exactly what he was going to do to this slender young woman. But it helped to let her see some of the other pieces.
He moved to another item. “The Shrew’s Chair. Used in centuries past to punish waspish women. Note this model, though. It has spikes on the legs, arms and back as well as the seat. A naked girl, manacled down to this item by her ankles, wrists and neck, will know after a few days that she needs to keep her tongue inside her mouth. It is impossible, you see, girl, for you to keep still and every little movement causes the spikes to tear your flesh...”
He moved then over to a rack on the wall. “The finest collection of whips and canes in the country, if I do say so myself. These can give exquisite pain to a girl’s body... See this one? Crafted from rhinoceros hide, it is as rough as a coarse file and it can lay open the flesh in one stroke. Or this one, very expensive. Made from the cured pizzle of a stallion...” He took up this item and snapped it lightly across the tips of her breasts. He was pleased as she screamed, as much from the thought of what the thing was as from the pain in her breasts.
“But no, I think this one is for you.” He moved to an item that had Angela puzzled. It looked horrible but as to its precise function, she wasn’t at all sure. “Bring her over, Sun, while I explain its finer points. The base, you see, is steel. It measures six feet by three and has this pole in the middle of the back edge, the longer edge, as you can well see. It reaches to the ceiling and right up there at the top is the little pulley through which is threaded this cord.” He moved over to the pole and put his hand on a sliding mechanism attached vertically to the pole. “Down here, is the slide way and in it is the business end. You see the curved rod that comes out of the slide. Looks nasty doesn’t it?”
She had to agree it did indeed look nasty. The rod itself was an inch in diameter and fashioned of stainless steel and it came out horizontally for twelve inches and then curved up until it was vertical. In the middle of the horizontal part, six inches out from the slide were two dildoes spaced a few inches apart. These were big and fat and had nasty looking metal nubs all over them. But worse were the three inch long spikes that poked up and in all along the rod, before, between and after the dildoes, right up to the little eyelet at the end of the rod. Both the dildoes and the spikes were also made of high- grade stainless steel and looked as if they were made as an integral part of the rod itself.
“Still not clear as to its purpose, eh, slut?” she shook her head but her eyes betrayed her fear. The dildoes looked menacing enough but the spikes bespoke a great deal of pain. He smiled. “Well, let us demonstrate. First Sun will back you up to the pole and then, as you see, he will pull your legs very wide apart and tie them down to the lugs on either side of the base. Next he moves the slide up between your legs so the dildoes on the rod are an inch or two away from your bottom... Are, I see, understanding has dawned...”
“No! Please,” she begged. “You’re not going to put them up inside me?”
“But of course. You are to be punished, not, as I said upstairs, because you failed to please me as a belly-dancer. Imogene has been practising her art for ten years and I am well aware that you couldn’t possibly have been able to perform for us adequately... No, it is because you are going to learn obedience and submission to my will... Pain. Sheer, unremitting, agonising pain is the most effective teacher that has ever been invented. A night on this instrument and you will be a most compliant little slave girl...” “No...” she sobbed. He was pleased. He nodded to his harem master who now stood up and taking one end of the cord, tied it around her wrists. He then raised the outer end of the rod, threaded the other end of the cord through the eyelet on its end and after pulling it so that her hands were raised high above her head, tied it off. Last, and guiding the two dildoes into their proper destinations with his other hand, he eased the slide up until both items were well inside her anus and vagina and then locked it in position. The spikes however were still a good inch or so away from her flesh but she now well knew that the moment she moved her hands down, the cord would jerk the horrible rod with the dildoes and the spikes up, the one plunging the dildoes into her anus and vagina; the other to stab and pierce her crotch and belly.
But he explained it to her nevertheless. “Now, you see. It is up to you. Keep your hands up high above your head and the spikes will not hurt you. But pull down with your hands and they will draw the rod and its spikes up so they stab your buttocks, crotch and of course, your lower belly. The spikes have been treated with an antiseptic, this will help prevent infection but it will also make the wounds very much more painful.
“Sun will leave us now but I will stay and observe how well you cope with your discomfort...”
Discomfort! She thought. Agony, more like. She experimented, pulling her hands down a little. “Ow,” she cried as the ultra-sharp spikes drove into her flesh and she quickly raised her hands up again.
But she knew she was going to be in for a hard time of it. In less than a minute, she knew her shoulders would begin to ache and the blood draining from her arms would cause painful cramps. She experimented with exercises for her hands and they helped. So did those employing isometric exercises (by placing her hands together, palms inward and then pushing her arms together). These and other methods helped.
Meanwhile John sat in a chair not two feet from her so diabolically suspended body and eyed her. She had only been up there ten minutes but with the others, five minutes had been enough to bring on groans and pleas for mercy. This one was different. He could sense that already. He settled down. He wasn’t going to stay the whole night but he would be back from time to time. Sleep was not something he required much of and in any case he really wanted to see how this one was going to respond. Still, he would stay and watch for the first hour. How she coped with the ever increasing pain would be most enlightening.
She decided, after much experimentation, that the only way she was going to come out of this on top, was to take turns. She would hold her hands up high until the agony in her shoulders was just too much to bear. Then she would drop them and face the pricks from a dozen spikes into the area between her legs and her belly beneath her navel. This too she would put up with until the pain was just too bad then she would raise her arms again.
But there was also another thing to cope with. The two dildoes, each ornamented with the diabolical little nubs that were like a thousand questing fingers, were doing their own mischief. Even the slightest movement caused those little nodes to rub against the sensitive linings of the anus and, more importantly, the vagina and clitoris. She couldn’t keep her hands still for more than a few seconds and soon she was screaming in lust as her clit responded to the u
nwanted excitement of her sexual organs. Her body then moved of course and this added even further to the stimulation.
So she now had shoulders and arms that ached horribly; hands that tingled constantly from lack of enough blood; an unwanted sexual stimulation that wouldn’t go away and which caused her recurring unwanted orgasms; and lastly, the pain of dozens of stab wounds to her crutch and belly.
And yet she coped. At first John was angry that she seemed to be beating him but then he gave her grudging respect and finally, although he wouldn’t admit it, he was pleased that she had won. Not that he would give up of course. It was essential for his ego and for the normal running of his household that he vanquish this beautiful slender young woman and he would. It just wasn’t going to be today.
He let her rest the following day and while she did, her companions in misery filed in to look down at her and to offer their compassion and friendship. The story was circulating that she hadn’t broken under the horrible ‘welcome’ he gave to all his new slave girls. If it was true, perhaps he could be beaten.
A few days later he had Sun bring her out to the back garden where was set up another of his favourite instruments of slavery. Not exactly a torture instrument; this one was more diabolical. From it he would soon have her begging for release, he was sure... She didn’t smile as she looked upon the thing. In fact her spirits rose a little. She had never shied away from hard physical work and this looked just the ticket to work her body hard.
He was sitting in a chair near it although his chair was protected from the sun and there was the newspaper and a jug of rum and lemon juice on ice on the table. Sun led her over to the thing and John rose to join them. “This will soon have you begging for my mercy, girl...”
“Yes, Master,” she said, placing her hands up on the bar to have Sun lock them in place.
“Did you see that early film about Conan the Barbarian, slut?” he asked. “No, Master.”
