by S. J. Lewis
She heard movement behind her and turned to look. Lara was pushing her own pad across the floor. She butted it up against Sigrid’s and knelt down on it.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just… I hate this place. I hate what they do to me here. I hate what they make me do.”
“It’s all right,” Sigrid smiled. Maybe she could get some information by playing the part of a sympathetic listener.
“May I lie down next to you?” Lara asked. “Please? I just don’t want to feel so alone for a while.”
“Of course,” Sigrid replied. She turned over onto her other side, not wincing in spite of how much it hurt in so many places. Lara lay down on her pad, facing her. They faced each other in silence for a long moment.
“Would you hold me?” Lara asked. “I’m not into women,” she added. Sigrid reached out with her free arm and Lara snuggled close to her with a sad sigh. “It’s so hard here,” she said. “They treat us like animals.” She put her own arm around Sigrid. This close, she couldn’t seem to meet Sigrid’s eyes.
“What do they make you do?” Sigrid asked. She began stroking Lara’s hair. It was soft and thick.
“Please,” Lara sobbed. “I can’t talk about it right now. Just hold me for a while? Please?”
“All right,” Sigrid conceded. She thought that Lara would talk eventually. It seemed as if she had a lot bottled up inside of her, straining to get out past her shame. If she played this right, sooner or later the woman would blurt out everything, along with copious tears and sobs. Maybe she could learn something useful then. She inched a little closer to Lara. The chamber wasn’t cold, but naked as she was she welcomed the warmth of another body close to hers. In response, Lara wriggled closer until they were breast-to-breast, belly-to-belly and thigh-to-thigh. Sigrid wasn’t particularly into women herself. In fact, she wasn’t that into men either, unless there was a good chance she could get something out of the encounter. Still, she wasn’t unfamiliar with the feel of another woman’s body against hers. Under the right circumstances, it could even be very enjoyable. But these were not the right circumstances. The prolonged whipping had left her bruised and sore all over, and Lara’s close contact was causing some twinges here and there. Sigrid cautiously slid her leg between Lara’s and reached under her companion with her other arm. Lara’s only response was to snuggle closer. Her body began to shudder and Sigrid could hear her sobbing softly. She kept her face turned so that it was hidden by her hair, but Sigrid could feel tears splashing on her arm. Let Lara cry herself out and maybe then she’d feel like talking. Sigrid resigned herself to waiting. Well, it wasn’t as if she had anyplace else to be, was it?
***
“Come on, get up you bitches!”
Sigrid jumped at the sudden bellowing. She was still holding on to Lara in a tangle of arms and legs and hair. Had she fallen asleep? She must have, but for how long?
“Get up!” the male voice bellowed again. “This ain’t no vacation!” The accent sounded American… Midwestern-American. Sigrid and Lara disentangled themselves. Sigrid saw Lara quickly move into “position” and copied her. As she did, she saw that there were four men present, all wearing those face-covering hoods. It made them anonymous, which made them more frightening, which was probably the idea.
One of the men knelt beside Lara and began buckling a wide leather collar around her neck. Another man did the same to Sigrid. She wanted to hit him, scratch at him, make him stop it. She didn’t want to be collared like a dog. Fighting would have been pointless, though. It might even get her another session with Bogo and the strap. She submitted. It was a fresh indignity when the man clipped a leash to her collar. Apparently they were going to take her and Lara somewhere else. She shuddered.
“Come,” the man holding Sigrid’s leash ordered. He gave the leash a sharp tug. Sigrid saw Lara crawling along on her hands and knees after the man who held her leash. There was nothing to do but copy her, as hard as the floor was on the knees.
Chapter Six
Sigrid shifted her position minutely. Minutely was all that she could do. She was on her hands and knees in a narrow wooden box that gave her so little room that she was starting to feel desperately claustrophobic. It would have been worse if it weren’t for the little square opening cut into the end of the box near her head. It was her only source of light, air and sound. She couldn’t see much out of it, though, because a metal vent cover exactly like one used for a clothes dryer was in the way. If she craned her neck just right, she could see a bit of the paved stone floor, but the view wasn’t worth the effort.
She did wish that she could shut out the sounds. She had no idea where she was, because her captors had wheeled the box here after they had shut her up in it. But all around her she could hear women’s voices, moaning, whining, pleading, and crying out in pain immediately after the sound of a whip or a strap or a hand hitting bare flesh.
There was absolutely no room in the box to stretch out. She could kneel after a fashion. It was about the only way she could change her position much, but the top of the box was so low that when she did kneel she had to lower her head. As time went by, the air inside of the box grew warmer and stuffier in spite of the small opening. She put her face closer to the hole, trying to breathe in fresher air. All around her, the sounds of female abuse continued. She tried to block them out, but when she did that all she had to contemplate was her cramped and increasingly uncomfortable state inside the box. She did not know how long they were going to keep her shut up in it. If they did it for too long, she was sure she was going to panic and start pounding on the box and pleading to be let out.
She would think about what was likely to happen if and when they did let her out. Her voice would be added to those of all the women she could hear as they did things to her. Being nailed up in the box didn’t seem so bad then. Over time, though, her muscles began to complain. She would shift her position to relieve one set of aches, only to have a new set crop up some time afterwards. As the hours dragged on, the interval of relief between her changes of position grew shorter and shorter until there was no relief to be had at all. She almost panicked then. Her breathing became quick and shallow and she almost began battering herself against the walls of her tiny prison. She calmed herself, but only with an enormous effort. If it happened again, she might not be able to resist, and she did not want to give her captors the satisfaction of making her break down so abjectly. In the end she knew it would be pointless. As long as they had her here they would eventually find a way to break her. But… not now. Not so soon. She hadn’t yet given up hope that she might find a way to escape this tropical hell, or be rescued from it. She might have no friends or family wondering what had happened to her, but surely at least one of the other women here did. It was a frail hope to cling to, but it was all she had. She closed her eyes – there was nothing to see anyway – and tried to concentrate on some of the breathing exercises from her yoga routine.
She didn’t know how much time had passed when she suddenly felt her box being moved. The rumbling of the wheels as it was pushed across some hard, uneven surface was transmitted right through the box and into her knees. She desperately raised herself so that only her hands and toes were in contact with the wood. It helped a little, but she couldn’t keep it up for long. She wondered where they were taking her, and then began to worry about why they were doing it. She felt panic starting to rise again, and this time breathing exercises wouldn’t help.
They did not go far. The movement stopped and then Sigrid felt her box being lifted. It was dropped onto the floor with a jarring crash. A moment later, she heard someone prying the front of the box off. It fell away and clattered onto the floor. She blinked at the sudden brightness and took in a lungful of fresh air. Immediately, another one of those ski-masked men reached into the box and grabbed her collar. He clipped a chain leash to it.
“Out, bitch,” he ordered. He pulled strongly on the leash to get her moving. Si
grid obeyed. There was nothing else that she could do. She moved stiffly after her long time in the box. She moved slowly as well, trying not to put a hand or a knee down on one of the protruding nails.
There were two men with her, both ski-masked. They were in a room maybe eight feet on a side. The walls were unpainted cinderblock, the floor poured concrete. Up ahead was a corridor four or five feet wide. The walls and floor were the same cinderblock and concrete, but Sigrid could see the metal bars of cell doors along one of the walls. Those had been painted a rusty red. She shuddered. What were they going to do to her now?
“Come on, my pretty little bitch,” the man holding her leash said in a less gruff tone. “Time for a walk.” His voice sounded like he came from around here. He pulled on her leash, and Sigrid was compelled to follow him, crawling along on all fours on the cold, hard concrete. Long-cramped muscles ached, and the air in the corridor felt uncomfortably cool after so much time cooped up in a tiny space.
They passed the first cell door. Sigrid risked a sidelong glance. The cell itself looked to be no more than six feet square. The walls were more cinderblock, the floor more concrete. She saw a thin pad, no more than a blanket, really, lying on that floor. Lying on the pad was a naked woman. She was lying on her side with her back to the corridor. She was handcuffed, and Sigrid could see that she was also collared. Her ass was crisscrossed with narrow red welts, and she seemed to be sleeping. The only other thing visible in the cell was a plastic bowl of water.
Sigrid shuddered again. Were they going to put her in one of those terrible cells? She crawled along after the man holding her leash. When they came to the next cell, he stopped. Sigrid glanced quickly into the cell, wondering if he was going to make her go into it, but she quickly saw that it wasn’t empty. There was another thin pad on the floor. There was a man standing at one end of it. She could tell it was a man by the polished shoes and neatly creased slacks. Very close to him she could see the bare legs and feet of a woman kneeling in front of him. Sigrid could hear wet little noises and tiny nasal grunts from the woman. She knew what was going on in the cell. She did not want to look up, but the man holding her leash wasn’t moving. Apparently he wanted her to get a good, long look. Well, she wasn’t going to do that.
“Well, Sigrid! It is good to see you again!”
In spite of herself, Sigrid looked up. Paul Marengo was standing there in the cell, smiling down at her. Her lips curled in a snarl. Then she saw who was sharing the cell with Paul and her mouth flew open in shock.
It was Amanda. Her hair had been cut short so that it didn’t quite reach her shoulders. She was as naked as Sigrid. A wide and heavy-looking leather collar was buckled around her neck, and her wrists were locked behind her in a pair of handcuffs. Her eyes were closed, and her mouth was full of Paul’s thick, hard cock. She acted as if she hadn’t heard anything. She just kept sucking with slow back-and-forth motions of her head and upper body.
“Amanda,” Paul said to her. “Say hello to your friend.”
Amanda stopped moving. Her eyes opened and she looked sidelong at Sigrid for a moment, her mouth still full. Sigrid saw her face redden. Then Amanda turned her head away. Paul’s cock slid out of her mouth.
“I did not tell you to stop, Amanda,” Paul said mildly. Amanda immediately turned back and groped for him with her mouth. She took him in again, and resumed sucking. She would not look at Sigrid again.
“Please stay and watch,” Paul smiled down at Sigrid. “Amanda has learned her lessons here very quickly.”
Sigrid wanted desperately to move on so she would not have to watch, but the man holding her leash stayed where he was. She tried to look down at the floor, but that only earned her a sharp yank on her leash and a hard swat on her ass. She yielded. Her ass was still sore. She didn’t want any more abuse of it.
Amanda kept her eyes closed, even when Paul put a hand on the back of her head and urged her to go faster and deeper. Sigrid winced. The head of Paul’s cock had to be hitting the back of Amanda’s throat, but she didn’t cough or gag. All she did was grimace. What had they done to her to make her so submissive so quickly?
Paul groaned once, and Amanda sped up without any more instructions. She was sucking very noisily now, concentrating on the first few inches of that big, black slab of meat in her mouth.
When he came, Paul gripped Amanda’s head in both of his hands and thrust his cock deeper into Amanda’s mouth. She squeaked through her nose when he did that, but didn’t struggle. Paul groaned and groaned as he came, making short, sharp thrusts with each groan. Sigrid watched in open-mouthed horror until he was done. And then she saw something even worse. Paul pulled his cock out of Amanda’s mouth and slapped her lightly with it. Amanda flinched. Her head dropped, and Sigrid saw one sticky drop of Paul’s cum come out of the corner of her mouth and ooze slowly down her chin. Then she lifted her head, her eyes shut tight, and Sigrid heard her swallow. A moment later, Amanda opened her mouth and inhaled deeply through it. She opened her eyes and looked up at Paul through tear-filled eyes.
“Thank you, Master,” she said in a tremulous voice. “May I clean your cock now?”
“Yes, you may,” Paul smiled.
Sigrid could only watch as Amanda began licking Paul’s cock clean. She did not stop until he patted her on her head. She remained kneeling, her head down. Paul zipped up his fly.
“I hope you observed your friend very closely,” Paul said to Sigrid. “You will be required to do the same.”
Sigrid couldn’t meet his gaze. She let her own head drop, hoping that her hair would hide her face and the tears in her own eyes. She felt suddenly weak and hopeless. The men here were all animals, breaking and training their female captives to be animals as well.
“Take her away,” Paul told the man holding Sigrid’s leash. She felt him tug at it again, and followed him on her hands and knees down the corridor. There was another man coming the other way, also holding a leash. Behind him trailed a woman Sigrid hadn’t seen before. She was small and slender and looked very young, not yet twenty. Her breasts were small, with prominent pink nipples. She did not look up as she passed Sigrid. Her face was a mask of dull despair.
Sigrid followed her handler listlessly. She obediently crawled down the corridor and into the cell that seemed to be waiting for her. He made her kneel on the thin mat. She let him cuff her hands behind her, and she tried to remain impassive while he fondled her breasts for a moment.
“You’ve seen some hard punishment,” he observed. Her bruises were fading, but they were still very visible. Sigrid said nothing. She kept her eyes fixed on the floor.
“Rest for a little while,” he said. “I will be back.”
She heard the cell door clang shut as he left. Only then did she let herself lie down on the mat. It offered no padding at all, but at least it kept away some of the chill of the cold floor. She turned her back to the door and tried not to cry.
***
“Wake up, bitch.”
Someone slapped her hard on her ass again. Sigrid came awake with a pained yelp and struggled up onto her knees. It wasn’t easy with her hands cuffed behind her. There were three men in her cell with her; all wearing those damned ski masks. She looked around at them nervously.
One of the men grabbed her by her hair and stepped close to her, unzipping his jeans.
“Come on, bitch,” he growled. “You’ve seen how it’s done.”
Sigrid clenched her jaws tight and tried to turn her head away. The man gripping her hair gave her head a rough shake.
“Give it up, bitch,” he snarled at her. “You wanna go back and play with Bogo some more?”
The threat was chilling, but Sigrid refused to give in. She had seen the look in Amanda’s eyes, the expression on her face. There was no way that she was going to give them what they wanted. Bogo could whip her to death before that happened. She kept her jaws clamped tight, even when the man began running his cock across her lips.
“Stop,” one of th
e other men said.
“Why?” Sigrid’s tormentor asked. “She’s gotta learn some time.”
“Do you want her to bite it off for you? Look at her eyes. She’ll do it.”
“Oh…” The man kept his hold on Sigrid’s hair, but he backed away quickly. “So now what?” he asked.
“She’s got other holes,” the third man pointed out. “Bend her over.”
This was something Sigrid couldn’t do anything about. Her first attacker tightened his grip on her hair and used it to bend her over until the side of her face was pressed down against the material of the pad. Her ass was up in the air, exposed and vulnerable. She felt one of the other men rubbing something cool and slippery on her pussy. She couldn’t suppress a whimper when whoever it was thrust his fingers up inside of her. She twisted and squirmed and complained wordlessly. None of it made any difference. Her only consolation was that they were going to use lubricant before they raped her.
It was quick and brutal. Each man took her in turn, pounding her hard and fast, intent only on his own pleasure. Sigrid groaned and struggled throughout her ordeal. She was still sore from the rapes after her flogging, and the rough use gave her no pleasure at all, only more pain. When they were finished, they left her lying on the mat, dazed and hurting. She heard her cell door clang shut. It was the last thing she heard for a while.
***
“Come on, get her up.”
Sigrid felt hands grabbing her by her arms. She offered no resistance as she was dragged to her feet. She was surprised to find that she was no longer handcuffed, although the cuffs still dangled from one wrist. She was even more surprised when one of the two men – both ski-masked, of course – who had invaded her cell unbuckled her collar and removed it, tossing it away. They started to usher her out of her cell, and she had a moment of panic. Where were they taking her? What were they going to do to her now? She wanted to resist, but the captivity and abuse had taken too much out of her. They hustled her out of her cell and down the corridor. There was a ‘T’ intersection at the end of it. When they reached it, they turned left. There was no more corridor there, only an open area eight or ten feet on a side. It looked as rough and unfinished as everything else in the area, but Sigrid saw a drain set in the middle of the floor. Directly above it, a metal hook hung from the bare ceiling at the end of a heavy chain. It looked ominous, and she tried to pull free. The two men were too strong and too determined. In a very short time, Sigrid found herself dangling by her handcuffs from the hook. She could just manage to reach the floor with her toes, which took the strain off of her wrists. For the first time, she saw the hose lying coiled on the floor, one end of it connected to a spigot set in the wall, and the bucket of soapy water next to it. The handle of a brush stuck up out of the bucket. She had one brief moment of relief as she realized that they had not brought her here to kill her before one of the men picked up the hose and began spraying her with cold, cold water.
