by S. J. Lewis
“I know my job,” the cameraman replied.
“Good. Now spread your legs, Gia.”
Still sniffling, Giancarla obeyed again. She felt like livestock now, which was probably how the terrible people here regarded her.
“Look at these thighs!” her trainer exclaimed as he patted and caressed them. “Nice and round and solid. There’s no fat here at all, just smooth flesh and muscle. Imagine her clamping them around your hips as you ride her hard all night. And down here,” his hands slid down past her knees to her calves, “just more prime female flesh. She played a lot of tennis, so her legs, as you can see, are in really gorgeous shape. Now let’s get some profile shots, shall we?”
Giancarla stood perfectly still as they filmed her from both sides. Her trainer went on about how gorgeous she looked, how perky her tits were, and how nice it would be to fuck her. Then they filmed her from behind, and she heard her trainer singing the praises of her lovely, tight, round ass. She wanted to die. What were they doing this for? To humiliate her further? How much more did they think they could do that? It was just plain cruelty, nothing more. What did they think they were doing?
Then she remembered that her trainer had said ‘love slave’… and he’d said he was her trainer. She had a sudden, horrifying realization. She opened her mouth to scream, but before she could do that her trainer’s hand was clamped over her mouth and his hand held her by her hair.
“Saw it in your eyes, Gia,” he murmured into her ear, close enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath on her neck. “You just now figured out what’s going on here, didn’t you?”
Giancarla looked up at him out of the corners of her wide, wide eyes and nodded. He was smiling again. It was a particularly nasty smile that made her shiver.
“Well, let me tell you, little Gia,” he went on. “We get lots and lots of women here. You aren’t anything unique or special, no matter what you heard me sayin’ earlier. That was just a sales pitch. All you are right now is a nicely-packaged pussy. That could be worth a lot of money to us, once you’re trained. But believe me, Gia,” he gave her head a rough shake, “If you turn out to be too much trouble, I’ll just turn you over to a gang of nasty men who’ll probably just beat you and fuck you to death. Got that?”
Giancarla whimpered and nodded jerkily.
“Still want to scream?” he smiled. Giancarla shook her head ‘no’ and whimpered again.
“Good girl.” His smile turned less wolfish. He let go of her hair and patted her ass almost affectionately. “Now just wait right here while we finish our work, all right?”
***
The men worked their way down along the line of naked women, leaving Giancarla, now merely Gia, sniffling and sobbing at the unjust cruelty of her fate. What had she done that was so terribly, terribly wrong? She knew that the other trophy wives had affairs… all of them did! She hadn’t done anything other than what everyone else was doing.
She thought briefly of letting herself sag so that the collar would choke her to death, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. She couldn’t help hearing the comments made by her ‘trainer’ as he put each of the other women through the same humiliating process as he had put her through. Was he ‘training’ all of those women too?
She heard him calling out the names and nationalities of the other women. She didn’t remember all of the names, but it seemed that two of the other women were Japanese, one Korean, and one Chinese. The black woman…her trainer called out her tribe, instead of her nationality, and the information meant nothing to Gia.
Finally, it seemed that it was all done. The cameramen went off somewhere and the trainer began unbuckling the women’s collars. They stood obediently in place until he came to Gia and freed her. He left their hands tied.
“That way!” he bellowed, making the women jump. He pointed down a corridor opposite the one Gia had come in, and amplified his order with a rapid barking out of other words in different languages. Gia recognized ‘move it’ and suspected that he’d said something similar to the other women. She turned and followed along after the other slaves. Her trainer followed along behind, keeping an eye on them.
They passed through a wide doorway. The corridor turned left, and now the air felt warmer and damp. It wasn’t until the other women came to a stop that Giancarla realized that the corridor dead-ended here in a wide, tiled area. She saw showerheads poking out of the walls at different heights.
“Hold still,” her trainer growled at her. He began untying her hands. Once they were freed, she looked at her wrists. There were deep rope marks on them. For the first time, she realized that her fingertips were a little numb. She started rubbing her wrists gently.
“Untie the others, bitch,” her trainer snapped. He slapped her ass hard. Giancarla jumped and yelped and moved to obey. It was strange, untying the other women, and her fingers wouldn’t completely cooperate. That earned her more hard swats on her ass until she was crying in sheer frustration. She was trying to do what he said, wasn’t she? Didn’t that count for anything? And why did they have to make the knots so tight?
Finally, after several more harder and harder swats, she freed the last of the other women. She turned to her trainer and looked up at him fearfully.
“Show them all how the showers work,” he told her. “And all the other stuff too. Get cleaned up, and don’t be slow about it.” Then he slapped her. Gia stumbled back away from him, and then turned to see where the nearest shower controls were. She was trembling, and she couldn’t stop it, but if they were going to let her keep clean it meant that they weren’t thinking of tossing her away to be beaten and raped to death, at least not yet.
The shower control was a single knob. You pulled it out to start the water flowing and turned it one way or the other to make the water warmer or colder. Turned all the way to one side, though, the spray never got any hotter than lukewarm. There was soap in a tray set into the wall. Gia took it in her hand and held it up for the other women to see and then began lathering up.
It felt very, very strange to be showering naked with a gaggle of other naked women. She’d never liked doing that, even back at the club, and she liked it even less here, with the other women all staring at her curiously. It was a huge relief when they seemed to get the idea and wandered off to find their own showerheads. The single-knob control seemed to baffle them all at first, though, and the walls rang with echoes of yelps and squeals as chilly water struck bare flesh.
Gia turned around to let the spray course down her back. She saw her trainer standing not too far away, leaning against the wall, watching the show with calculated interest. His eye caught hers, and he winked at her.
She turned away from him immediately and concentrated on washing herself. She didn’t think that she’d ever feel really clean again, but she could at last be cleaner than she had been. The soap didn’t lather up all that well, but it had a faint, pleasant scent. She spotted two fixtures sitting along the far wall. It took her a moment to recognize them as bidets. So that’s what the trainer had meant by ‘all the other stuff’. She had tried hand-washing her pussy, but it was still too sore for her to do that without wincing. She looked back once to see if the trainer was still watching. He was. He looked from her to the bidets and back again and nodded.
Gia sighed heavily. She rinsed the scanty soapsuds off of her and trudged over to one of the bidets. She saw one or two of the other women turn to look at what she was doing. She hadn’t expected to find such a civilized piece of plumbing in this place, but she welcomed the warm water softly caressing her still-sore pussy. Grateful that she could keep her back to the trainer, she reached down and spread her lips so that the bidet could wash her more thoroughly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the lone black woman on the neighboring bidet, trying to copy what Gia was doing.
Gia straightened up finally and went back to her shower. Using hand soap to wash her hair was an unrewarding exercise, but she kept at it until her mane finally squea
ked under her fingertips.
“Finish!” the trainer bellowed. Then he barked out several more words in several different languages for the benefit of the other women. Gia gave herself one more rinse under the spray and turned off the shower. Bending over, she began wringing out her hair. There didn’t seem to be any towels or hair dryers here, so there wasn’t anything else she could do.
“This way,” the trainer ordered, waving a hand. He didn’t use any foreign phrases. Apparently the hand gesture was supposed to be universal. Gia trudged over towards him. She was surprised when the black woman fell in alongside her and gave her a quick, shy smile.
This time the trainer led rather than shepherded them. They passed through the large room where they’d all been videotaped and along several corridors until they came to a large wooden door. There were two guards at the door, big, bald, swarthy men naked to their waists. They opened the door as the trainer approached with the women in tow.
“Inside,” the trainer ordered. He stepped aside and made more hand gestures. Gia sighed again, wondering what new horror she would be forced to endure, and stepped through the doorway. The other women trailed in behind her. The black woman bumped into her as Gia stopped short just inside.
The room they’d just entered looked like some storybook illustration of a harem. There were bright-colored cushions spread all over the floor, low couches – or were they beds? – against the walls, even a small fountain in the far corner. In the middle of the room stood a low, wide table. There were bowls on the table full of fruit. Gia recognized bananas, apples and oranges. There were other fruits there, but she had no idea what they were. The oriental women pushed past her, chattering happily as they caught sight of the fruit and made beelines for it.
The door banged shut behind her, making Gia jump. She looked around. The trainer wasn’t there. The black woman was, though, and she gave Gia that shy smile again. Her teeth seemed unnaturally white against the smooth ebony tone of her skin. She was about the same height as Gia, but much more slender.
“Tana,” she said, pointing to herself. Was that her name? Gia pointed to herself. “Gia,” she said.
“Gia,” the black woman smiled more widely and nodded.
“I don’t suppose you speak English, do you?” Gia asked. All she got in reply was a blank stare. Gia turned away and went over to the table. There were still some bananas left. She picked up two, and an apple, and retreated to one of the couches… or beds… or whatever they were… in a corner. It was well-upholstered, nicely padded and covered with some kind of silky cloth. It was built like a wide bench, with one end rising up at a low angle. The raised part seemed to be more softly padded than the rest of it. It looked as if it was intended as a headrest. Gia contented herself with sitting on the level part and eating her fruit. The bananas helped to clear the last nasty taste of semen from her mouth, and the apple was delicious. She noticed the oriental women had gathered into a small group nearby. They were peeling and eating some of the unfamiliar fruit and speaking to each other in hushed tones.
“Gia?” Startled, Gia turned to see Tana hovering nearby. She was holding a small bunch of bananas and looking at Gia with a question on her face. Gia sighed. She hadn’t wanted company, but if Tana had been through the same hell as she had been she just didn’t have the heart to turn the woman away. She moved sideways on the – whatever it was – leaving room for Tana to sit next to her. The woman smiled and made some kind of bobbing motion before she sat down next to Gia and set to consuming her bananas. For the first time, Gia took note that Tana’s pussy was as bald as hers. She looked at the oriental women. They still had pubic hair, but it seemed to have been trimmed to a neat stripe on all of them.
Gia felt suddenly very tired. She looked around the room. It wasn’t all that large, but the ceiling seemed to be very high overhead. As she looked up, she saw surveillance cameras set high on the walls, one to each corner. All four had little red lights showing, and she shivered. They weren’t being left alone here, not even for a little while. Somewhere, somebody was watching them.
Chapter Seven
“Up, bitch. Get up!”
Gia stirred and murmured, still only half-awake. Someone was nudging her very roughly in her ribs with something blunt and hard. She rolled heavily onto her back and looked up, shielding her eyes against the lights overhead. Those eyes went wide as she saw that it was her ‘trainer’. She scrambled to her feet, wondering how she had wound up sleeping among the cushions on the floor. The last thing she could recall was stretching out on the couch-bed-thing, trying and failing to avoid contact with Tana who insisted on sharing it with her. She got to her feet and stood waiting, her eyes downcast. Her trainer patted her hip.
“Good girl,” he chuckled. “Good Gia.” She stood still as he buckled a black leather collar around her neck and clipped a leash to it. As he was doing that, she took a quick, furtive look around. There were only two of the oriental women still in the room. They were curled up asleep on separate couches. There was no sign of Tana.
“Come along,” her trainer said as he gave her leash a couple of sharp tugs. Gia knew better by now than to resist. She followed him out of the doorway, past the two guards, and down the corridor. She tensed up when they came to the chamber where she’d been videotaped earlier. One of the oriental women was already there, kneeling on some kind of thin pad that looked like a small gym mat. She was bent over and sobbing. Gia noticed that her hands were secured behind her with wide leather cuffs. The two cameramen were there also, as well as a swarthy, muscular bald man. She had a sudden sinking feeling.
“Over here,” her trainer told her, jerking her leash again. Gia stumbled after him, past the sobbing woman, dreading whatever was to come. The bald man began buckling another pair of leather cuffs on her wrists.
“What…” Gia began. Her trainer slapped her as if he was striking a misbehaving dog.
“Shut up,” he ordered. “Keep quiet.”
The cuffs felt tight around her wrists. Gia stood shuddering as the bald man clipped them together in front of her and then lifted her arms up over her head and clipped them to a chain dangling down from the ceiling. Gia found herself standing almost on tiptoe. Her trainer stood in front of her and took hold of her chin.
“Now we see how you perform, bitch,” he said. “It’s best if you don’t fight it.”
Fight what? Gia looked around, nearly panicking, as she tried to see what ‘it’ might be. Her trainer stepped away from her, and then she saw the bald man coming back at her with a big vibrator in his hand. It was shaped like an oversized cock.
“No!” Gia shrieked. She tried to back away from this new torment, but it was impossible. She managed to get perhaps half a step before she found herself completely on her toes and unable to go any further. Then there was a sharp ‘crack!’ and something stung her ass. She yelped in pain.
“Get back in place, bitch,” she heard her trainer order, “or you’ll get worse.”
Gia slowly edged back to her original position. At least she didn’t cry. The bald man grinned nastily and held the vibrator up inches from her nose and switched it on. Gia flinched at the sudden low buzzing noise and almost started to back away again until she remembered how much that would hurt. She saw the cameramen moving into positions to film her latest humiliation and closed her eyes. She immediately felt the tip of the vibrator pressed against her lips.
“Make love to it, Gia,” her trainer ordered. “Open your mouth.”
She opened her mouth, but kept her eyes closed. The vibrator tickled her tongue and felt unpleasant whenever it touched her teeth. She felt it being pushed deeper and deeper into her mouth and braced herself for when it would make her gag. But the bald man never pushed it in deep enough for that. Instead he began sliding it slowly in and out, in and out. Gia kept her eyes closed through all of it.
When she began to drool, the bald man pulled it completely out of her mouth and applied the tip to her nipple. Gia squealed and her e
yes flew open. She looked down, shivering and shuddering. She’d never felt anything like this new sensation before. It was maddening, almost unbearable, somewhere between torture and pleasure. She saw her nipple quickly swell from the mechanical stimulation, and then the sensation went straight into full torture mode. She tried to stay quiet, and couldn’t. She tilted her head back and yowled in complaint, shaking her body as if she was trying to shake off a fly. The men just laughed. The bald man switched briefly to her other nipple while he took the swollen one into his mouth. She felt him biting at it, hard enough for it to hurt, but not hard enough to break the skin. She yowled again, but kept very still now for fear of hurting herself.
Then both the mouth and the vibrator were gone. Gia let her head drop. She was breathing heavily through her mouth now. The bald man began squeezing her breasts with his free hand. It was not as unpleasant as what he’d been doing, but it was unpleasant enough. Her trainer gripped her by her hair, pulling her head back again.
“Spread those lovely legs now, Gia,” he purred into her ear.
She obeyed before she’d even thought about what he’d said. She couldn’t spread her legs very wide, but she did what she could. The bald man knelt down in front of her and began sliding the vibrator up into her pussy. He went slowly at first, just in a little way and wriggling it around, getting his victim wet. Gia jerked and squealed, almost hanging from the chain now. Her trainer lashed her ass again to make her hold still.
Her legs were beginning to quiver from the strain, but Gia kept still as the bald man kept working the vibrator in and out of her, going a little deeper and making her a little wetter each time. She hated it. She hated everything that they did to her here, but there was nothing she could do about the responses he was coaxing out of her body. What he was doing still hurt, but nowhere near as much as the gang rape earlier had. She kept her eyes closed so she didn’t have to watch the cameramen prowling around her, videotaping every moment of her degradation, sometimes in close-up. She tried to will her mind out of her body, but it wasn’t working. The harder she tried to ignore the vibrator the more she could feel it and the more it did things to her.
