Lena's Fall: Volumes Eight through Fifteen of Lena’s Journey

by Alex Carlsbad

  My knees were shaking and I suddenly felt weak.

  "I have taken the liberty to leave you a packet containing fifty thousand dollars in the nightstand drawer on the left side of my bed. The packet also contains your passport, credit cards and driver’s license. As promised, your mother is well taken care of and you have nothing to worry about in that regard. I give you my word that she will benefit from the best possible care modern medicine has to offer people suffering multiple sclerosis. The time has come to think about yourself. If you were my daughter, I would forbid you from lingering around my place even a second longer. Take the money and go! Go home and live your life! Be the best person you can be!"

  There was a smudge that looked as if a drop of water had fallen at that place on the sheet of paper. It had washed through the contours of the ink letters. Had he been crying? Did he really want me to leave him?

  Did he not realize how important he was to me, how intertwined our lives had become? The bottom fell out of my stomach as I read on, horror swelling within me.

  "Do not fear, my sweet Lena. You will always be the one for me. Even if you go, my love for you will remain unchanged – intense and more ardent than you can imagine! This is precisely the reason for my words above. I want you to have one last opportunity to make your own choice in life. If you choose to leave, do so immediately for I'm not exactly sure when the emissaries will arrive. What I do know however, is that they are hard people who will accept no hesitation on your part if they find you here. This is your last chance. I know, I repeat myself but the risk of coming across as a doddering old fool pales in comparison to seeing you forever enslaved against your will. Yours forever, Master Branigan."

  The first part of his letter had robbed me of the ability to breathe, almost convinced me he wanted me gone. The second half gave me a glowing feeling of desperate hope. I love him more than anything and would do everything he wanted just so that I could be with him, my Master! No matter what was asked of me, I would do it! He had told me precious little about the Society. I knew it was ancient and had some weird customs, judging by what I had seen so far. But scary or not, if I wanted to stay with my master, I had to follow him in accepting the Society’s customs. A faint smile crossed my lips. He might imagine that the letter in my hands gave me one last opportunity to exercise my will, but he was wrong. It was too late for that. My choice was already made. I was his, now, forever, for better or worse. If that meant I had to submit myself to whatever galling customs his society required, so be it!

  An hour later my breasts were quite sensitive as I had just pumped. My nipples had swelled to fat little taut buttons with the arousal that accompanied every milking. I wondered if I shouldn't put on some clothes. The idea of being dressed had recently began to acquire the same degree of novelty as prancing around all day long in the nude had once been for me. Yet I didn’t like the idea of showing myself naked to whoever happened to come "pick me up" as my master had so crudely put it. It was almost summer and a gentle draft wafted through the house sending a delicious current of naughtiness across my flushed skin. My master's letter had left me in a state of constant low-grade arousal brought on by the inevitable embarrassment I was about to experience in the near future. Yes, apparently being humiliated excited me now. Go figure. Sometimes thinking about that fact alone send me into dark depths of self-loathing. I just tried to distract myself from such self-criticisms.

  Dr. Branigan had never talked about the Initiation Ceremony and now I realized that his omission was probably intentional. Even though I was becoming increasingly more accustomed to trusting him in everything, it was still very difficult to accept some things blindly on my Master’s say-so. I had zero doubts that the ceremony would probably include a bunch of leering men anxious to get their grubby hands on my untouched body. Would my Master allow them to despoil me? I had to believe that he would protect me. But who knew what disgusting customs his so-called Society had. Judging by the chastity belt its emissary had affixed onto my loins, I had an increasingly sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. The more I thought about my imminent rite of submission, the more I doubted that I had the strength to go through with it. I still possessed a strong sense of pride and refused to accept the full implications of what becoming a slave really meant. A slave! The very idea seemed like something straight out of the Middle Ages. It didn’t belong in twenty-first century America! It couldn’t happen to someone like me! Surely it was merely going to be an elaborate play. Something to get the men’s juices flowing. Nothing more. And yet, why was I shivering with fright? Granted I was young, and naïve – but I still believed there had to be more to my life ahead than merely doting over my betters, whether they be my mother or my master.

  I was young and perhaps somewhat impatient, but I was definitely not below average when it came to my intelligence. I had done reasonably well in school. At one point early on, my master had mentioned my wit and vivacious nature as being like catnip to him. He had told me that intelligent women trained best as submissives. At only nineteen, I still had college to look forward to and I felt certain I would succeed there as well. I adored my master but I definitely didn’t look forward to meeting any other members from his society. Not if they were anything like the odious Mr. Henry! I suppressed a shiver of revulsion that washed over me at the memory of the way the lecherous old man had looked at me the other day when he had placed the chastity belt.

  I had never really had an opportunity to date. I always had to be around to help my mom. Yet I was quite aware, from the inadvertent glances I felt from the men I inevitably happened to pass by in the store when I went to do the groceries that I was probably attractive. I never dared consider myself beautiful. This was a luxury reserved for movie stars and rich people. Still though, I couldn’t be that plain-looking either.

  I cast a quick glance at the big digital display clock in the kitchen. It was only eight twenty-two in the morning. Perhaps I had enough time. No! If I left now, I would never see him again. It was too much to bear.

  Without thinking about it, I made my way towards the big staircase by the main entrance. Inadvertently my eyes were caught by my own reflection in the large floor-to-ceiling mirror there. Yes – definitely not that plain-looking. My jet-black hair shimmered with reflections of morning light which trickled in through the vestibule window. I was wearing it straight that morning. I had parted it in the middle letting it fall in front almost down to my chest. It was thick and rich swaying lightly and firmly around the contours of my oval face. I wrinkled my nose which even though slightly upturned and on the smaller side, I knew I had to have inherited from my absentee dad. My eyes – a bright shade of brown, glimmered at me from my reflection and I squinted in mock admonition back at myself and bared my white teeth in a feline grin. Yes, there was definitely more I could do with my life than merely be someone’s doting little submissive.

  I giggled at myself and couldn't help noticing how my breasts jiggled on my slender frame. I didn't consider myself tall, especially not in the presence of my master who at about seven feet seemed like a giant by my side, but still, I knew that my legs were quite well proportioned and appeared striking when I chose to wear a short skirt on those few occasions when I left the house.

  Suddenly I froze. The sounds of a car that had pulled up in front of the gate. I heard its doors opening and closing. Footsteps. Muffled voices. Oh, God – no! I was just about to make a mad rush for the garage when I heard the sound of a key being slipped into the lock and heard it turn. The door opened and I gasped.

  Two enormous men with dark foreign features walked in. Their fierce expressions suddenly latched on to my petite trembling figure. They didn't say a word, their body language doing all the talking necessary for me to understand that in this instant, whatever choices I had previously had to use my free will had now evaporated. I would do anything and everything they wanted me to do. It was as if their very presence exuded a strength, a male potency that completely subsumed and negat
ed any willpower I might have had. They both feasted their eyes for what felt like an eternity upon my shy and trembling nakedness.

  Time slowed down to a trickle and then felt as if it stopped completely. I glanced away bowing my head and bit my lip in an effort to summon up the courage and say something. I did my best to avoid eye contact and mentally chastised myself for my indecision from moments ago. Master always said I was indecisive. Now I was going to pay the price for it. My life would never be the same again!

  I suddenly had difficulty breathing and beads of cold sweat trickled down my back. The first man to enter caught my eye and I saw in his face a simmering anger that appeared to somehow grow stronger and more vehement with every instant that passed by. He was growing furious for some reason. Had I done something wrong already? What was I supposed to do? What did these men want from me?

  Then suddenly I remembered: obeisance!

  Master had taught me that a good submissive always, always kneels when entering her dominant’s presence. She also normally bows, or better yet – kneels when spoken to by any free person. This is considered to be simply a matter of respect. The two men were undoubtedly taking my silent if shocked attitude to be a direct affront. Immediately I fell to my knees and pressed my forehead into the cold hardwood of the floor. I could sense the heat of their raking eyes across my nude back and buttocks as they walked in and around my prostrate form.

  I remained facing down waiting for the men’s permission to stand. I was trembling visibly. All I could see from my vantage point on the floor were the men’s thick hard black leather boots as they circled me. I thought it was strange that they remained silent, at least one of them did. His partner was muttering something to himself in what sounded like a guttural foreign language. Then he chuckled. It sounded as if he was commenting on my body! I pressed my head harder against the cold stone floor. If there was any way to summon some magical power to have the earth shatter and open beneath my crouched form just so I could vanish into its depths, I willed it to happen. The seconds built up on each other and the silence grew infinitely long as I finally felt myself regain a measure of coherent thought.

  I saw myself the way the men could see me. My graceful smooth, long white back gently angled up from where my breasts were tightly pressed into the floor rising up to my full buttocks which stood out as an offering.

  “She must be anxious.” The bigger of the two said. “I can see her anus twitching.” Oh, dear God. This comment made the smaller one snort in indignation. I almost screamed and jumped. I felt a thick finger rub up against my most intimate hole. He had moved the chain sideways, pressing it tightly over my mound as he made way for his probing digit. I wanted to disappear with shame. “She seems kind of skinny though,” the stranger added but I barely heard him concentrating instead on the sensations coming from my butt.

  “Perhaps they’ll have to fatten her up first. The Overlord certainly likes them with more meat on the bone than that.” I felt, and heard, the squelching sound of the long probing digit withdraw from my body. The fierce-looking man who hadn’t uttered a word yet came to crouch in front of me. I saw dark twinkle in his eyes that reminded me a little of my master. Instinctively I felt my loins flood with wetness. Oh God!

  “Yes, a hot one, that one. I can’t wait to have her myself.” Oh dear God! His partner had positioned himself behind me and I squealed when I felt his big hands grab fistfuls of my cheeks. He began to peel them back and soon I felt cold air wash across my rosebud in shame. I closed my eyes.

  The next thing I felt was a hand hitting one of my buttocks with a loud smack. It took more than a couple of instants before the pain registered in my brain and then I screamed.

  I felt the one in front of me grab hold of my chin and place his other hand atop my forehead. He was drinking in my pain and humiliation. I cried out with every slap and bit my lip trying to resume some semblance of control. I failed miserably. Then the one behind me stopped the punishment and his big hands returned to my backside. Where his fingers had felt cold and alien before, now I felt his skin warm and almost soothing against my blemished flesh. My butt cheeks clenched uncontrollably. Instinctively I was expecting another slap but his hand was amazingly gentle. He rubbed me sensuously. My little bells attached to the anklets on my feet vibrated and their music filled the air. I felt my juices pouring down my thighs in between and through the chain. I was feeling horrible and good, all in the same time.

  I centered my attention on the younger, smaller, sterner, silent man who was watching me intently, crouched in front of my face. I felt so lonely and it was all I could do to take solace in the man’s strange likeness to my master. Not a likeness in features so much, as a similarity in attitude. I felt myself getting lost in the dark-green iridescence of his eyes, in a world where if I was a good slave, he would be my salvation. This emissary was completely unlike Mr. Henry from a few days ago. He was good-looking and handsome, maybe just a couple of years older than myself. His dark Middle Eastern features coupled to the strange reflections picked up by his eyes sent chills right to my heart.

  But there was no warmth in his expression and his hands felt cold where he held my face in the hard confines of his giant palms. He caressed my forehead tracing the outlines of my cheek pushing back the thick strands of my hair that had tumbled like a curtain across my eyes. I could feel his understated cologne and the husky, deep scent of a man underneath it. He was dressed all in black – a dressy black cotton shirt with beautiful monogrammed cufflinks. He had a chain of some dark metal alloy, heavy and tight around his neck which somehow managed to shimmer.

  Then he slapped me.

  I didn't see it coming and at first I didn't realize what had happened. One moment I was on all fours staring up at him, the next – I was sprawled out, pain radiating across my left side where he had struck me open handed. I started sobbing. I felt betrayed somehow. I had been cheated into a moment of false security that he had ripped to shreds in the most galling of ways by hitting me like that. His face hardly changed its expression. Now he stood and carefully brushed back some invisible flakes from his pricey silk pants.

  Why had he struck me? Was it a test? To humiliate me perhaps? To prove that I was too weak for them whoever they were, wherever they were going to take me. Perhaps he was trying to make me believe that I wasn't suited for it. I was a little girl crying on the floor of my master's house naked and in shambles.

  No!

  I swallowed back what tears I could and took a deep breath and resumed my place on the floor

  "Thank you, Sir." I said through clenched lips looking back up at him defiantly. His eyebrows rose and he nodded almost to himself. Then he came back down to crouch by me. I took a deep sigh and held my breath steeling myself as best I could for the next act of humiliation or chastisement that I assumed he was about to inflict on me. I wanted to be strong for it.

  I was my master's slave. These men, whoever they were, wherever they were taking me, whatever they were going to do to me, they were all just a formality between me and my life with Dr. Branigan. I would endure it all to be with him! The silent dark man moved closer and I blinked instinctively expecting his hand to come flying at me any moment now.

  Instead he surprised me yet again and kissed me!

  His lips came down on mine and I melted. I opened and accepted him. I tried to concentrate on keeping myself from turning to jelly, but his lips were distracting. He kissed me gently and I closed my eyes as his lips lingered. His large hands which had come up to my face slid behind my head, into my hair, and he turned his head slanting it slightly, deepening the kiss. He nibbled playfully on my lower lip and I surrendered myself to him pressing my tongue forward searching out his. Suddenly the tenderness he was gifting me was exactly what I needed. Then, I almost screamed and froze. Where I had expected to find his tongue, there was nothing. He had no tongue!

  So that was the reason he had been silent! Oh, dear God, had they cut it off?

  Then he pu
lled back and smiled and I almost screamed again. There was an unnatural emptiness between his blindingly white teeth. It was grotesque and bone-chilling scary. My mind started spinning with scenarios. Had he been born with no tongue or had it been his sacrifice to his master? Or maybe he had a mistress? Could it be that he wasn’t a slave but a master, and had rendered all of his slaves permanently mute, just like himself? My thoughts were cut short when he struck me again. On the same side, and again I fell but this time I didn't scream I took it silently and slowly righted myself. He nodded and his companion resumed probing my ass.

  Suddenly I giggled which was so totally absurd given my situation. Oh what the hell, maybe I was going mad. Things couldn’t get any more out of control, or could they? I felt the dominant’s aquiline features bore down on me clearly puzzled about what it was that I felt was so funny. Instead of indulging his curiosity, I chose to ignore him and concentrate on my task at hand. Mi my silly outburst was caused by the entirely new sensation I had just felt with my tongue and lips where they had touched his veiny cock. I had just felt his throbbing pulse with my mouth where I had been down to worship him. His manhood felt alive and growing, like a creature. I felt a burning need to worship and appease this rapidly growing monster lest it grew angry and devoured me. I took him in, sucking, swirling my tongue over his impossibly soft velvet, cherishing the steel beneath. I felt the first glistening beads of pre-cum drip down my throat and I pulled back to lick at his tip tasting him. Without thinking about it I sat back on my heels and reached up to fondle his balls. I was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath from my new center of the universe which was echoed by a growl of discontent from the man who until now had been stretching my ass. Sitting back on my heels like that, without being told to do so, had been a gamble on my part but the angle had been all wrong. I would have never been able to take the man at my mouth all the way into my throat as I wanted. Apparently I was in luck because his partner elected to wait it out and not punish me. At least not until it was his turn to resume my playing with my ass.