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

by Alex Carlsbad

  My idle musings came to a swift end when the cock I was servicing with my mouth began to thrust harder. I allowed my jaw to relax trying as best I could to offer him the passive little hot hole he appeared to want from me. Soon my world became immersed in the wet slurping, sucking, gagging noises that my mouth was making as I forced myself to relax and learned to be a good little fuck hole for this man who had just walked in through my front door. Oddly I found myself growing wetter the more callously he used me. Soon enough I felt my mind drift into that space between worlds where it usually went when my body was called upon to perform. I don’t know how many minutes, or hours it was later when I felt his orgasm claim him and he spilled his seed coating my tongue with his thick male essence.

  "Swallow everything, slave." Growled his partner behind me. I obeyed and drank it all in. He smelt musky and tasted salty but not bad at all. After a few long seconds I was finally able to gulp all of his load down. Overwhelmed with performance anxiety I looked up at him and gave him a shy smile. He smiled back, his eyes crinkling at the sides. My heart fluttered slightly with… was that pride I was feeling? Suddenly and much to my shame and consternation I realized that now that my mouth was empty, I actually missed the comfort of his cock. For some reason I didn’t want to dwell upon, I had actually enjoyed pleasing him. It was most definitely some twisted illusion I'm sure, but it had felt as if he was at my mercy when I had him in me, between my teeth like that.

  Without conscious thought I reached up and took his heavy balls in my hands. I loved the way he shuddered when I gently scraped my fingernails along the underside of him. I saw the spasm that convulsed his resting serpent that was still slick and wet with my saliva. It was like a beast of myth – wet, and flush with the exertions of battle. The agonized expression on its owner’s face when he took a step back and nodded towards his partner relinquishing his control over me, almost made me come right then and there. A small sigh of disappointment escaped my lips.

  My shoulders slumped and I felt weak and deflated. I didn’t even want to look at other man. I knew that there was probably no real cause to like the one emissary over the other. They hadn’t given me any reason to pick between the two of them but my subconscious had done the job for me without any rational input on my part. I had chosen the mute man in black as my reluctant hero and the other one as the brute. I swallowed one last time cherishing the lingering taste in my mouth and enjoying it a couple of moments more, before it was about to be inevitably subsumed beneath the next load that I already hated.

  ***

  It was a couple of hours later when the men swiftly and efficiently lifted me off the seat of the motorcycle and without any preamble prodded me over in the direction of a gigantic warehouse with a big iron gate where they had driven me. When I saw where they were leading me, all relief from not having to sit on my chastened behind was replaced with a deep anxiety that soon threatened to develop into a full-blown panic attack. The place looked horrible in the most seedy, dirty and dangerous kind of way. I froze in place but they merely grabbed me under the armpits and lifted me as if I had suddenly become weightless and carried me over towards the door. Behind us traffic kept on moving oblivious to the little drama unfolding with me. We were far enough removed from the main route that nobody noticed the naked young woman being dragged in the direction of a nondescript loading dock. Or if they did, nobody considered it worthy enough to slow down, let alone call the police.

  As we approached the tall gate started opening on its own no doubt triggered by motion sensors embedded somewhere nearby. It occurred to me that these men were not worried about the security of whatever installation they had here. I realized that whoever was waiting on the inside was probably much scarier than any hoodlum or hobo who might inadvertently choose to approach the automatic gate. Once inside, the silent man on my left, the one I had been made to kiss and then suck off, let go of me and vanished somewhere off to the left in the darkness leaving the job of leading me further into the darkness to his more brutish and talkative partner.

  “Do you have the key?” Came the startling voice of somebody with a heavy accent. My eyes finally adapted to the semi-twilight inside.

  "Yes," answered my only remaining chaperon.

  "Well, use it then! What are you waiting for? A special invite? I want her chains, chastity belt, and all the doodads and whatnot removed ASAP, do you understand?" The voice was oddly high-pitched and as my eyes adapted to the general twilight of the warehouse, I saw it belonged to a small Asian man sitting at a threadbare metallic desk. Except for a smartwatch on his left wrist he looked exceptionally outdated and quaint.

  He was dressed in what looked very much like the attire of a stereotypical pencil-pusher from an Alfred Hitchcock movie. He had a white button-down shirt, over which he wore a black vest and ink sleevelets like the ones people used to wear a hundred years ago to protect themselves from ink smudges from their fountain pens.

  My erstwhile chaperon let go of my arm and I felt grateful for the renewed circulation the absence of his iron grip allowed through my muscles and joints. Pins and needles blossomed all along my arm from my shoulder all the way down to the tips of my fingers that I started anxiously rubbing with my other hand.

  "Don't move, slave," the man growled and knelt in front of me. Before I knew what was happening, he had made me spread my legs wide and began methodically breaking up the lead seal that Mr. Henry had placed on top of the tiny padlock which held my chastity belt locked.

  "Oh no, please," I protested miserably. "This is for my master to do." The belt seemed like my only source of protection against the unknown and the danger I felt from these men. I was petrified. Were they going to rape me? Was this how it was all going to end for me — ignominiously raped in some dingy warehouse in a seedy neighborhood of the city?

  I squirmed moving back from the brute at my feet, anxious to put some distance between myself and his aggressive ugliness. He growled something and straightened himself back up again. Before I knew it stars floated up in front of my eyes and I realized he had smacked me open handed across my left cheek. Then he painfully repeated the punishment returning his hand from right to left. He kept hitting me a couple of more times until I was so shocked that I didn't even think of screaming. I got dizzy and was just about to fall to the floor when he finally stopped hitting me and steadied me by the shoulders.

  “A slave girl obeys," he growled. "A slave girl does not have an opinion, let alone voice it."

  “Please, I’m saving myself, for my master…” I pleaded helplessly. Both men ignored me and after smacking me one more time for good measure, the man resumed unbuckling the belt. It tumbled down to the grimy floor between my bare feet and was soon joined by my anklets and the chain that Master had given me to wear around my waist.

  “Has she eaten or drank anything?” I heard the little Asian man ask.

  “Nope,” the brute replied. “How dumb do you think I am?” Even through my tears I saw the sarcastic look that came across his superior’s face.

  “Are you sure?” He smirked quite obviously. “I don't want her to throw up when she’s all crated up. Better be honest now rather than run the risk of having her throw up your jizz and suffocate on it later. His Honor our Overlord will be most displeased.”

  At this I couldn’t help but notice the obvious discomfort that clouded the features of the man who had just taken off my chastity device. My nameless assailant fidgeted nervously looking about the austere space, his mouth tightly locked, his eyes open, staring down at something invisible on the floor. “I made her throw it up,” he said glumly looking down at his shoes like a schoolboy caught red handed doing something forbidden. The man behind the desk chuckled.

  He looked over at me and even though I blushed violently, I couldn’t help but look away from his piercing stare. “Is that true, little slave? Did he make you puke out their cum? You can be honest with me. You have nothing to fear from that idiot in my presence. Tell me truthfully,
have you ingested anything the last couple of hours?”

  “No, Sir,” I said in a tiny little voice. “I have nothing in my stomach. I threw up their… their cream. I had a small breakfast almost four hours ago now.”

  "Good. She's a cute little thing that one. It would be a shame if she were to die like an animal in a box.” His words made me shiver and I looked up at him seeing his searching eyes. He was making sure I had been truthful, I realized. Then he looked down and scribbled something on his notepad.

  “Well, don’t just stand there.” He said without bothering to look up again. “Inject her, pack her, gag her, and ship her.“

  "What?!" I blurted out before I realized I had said anything. Nobody paid any heed to me and the next thing I felt was the sharp prick of a needle on my shoulder. Overwhelming darkness subsumed me before I even hit the ground. I had suddenly and inexplicably entered a miracle realm of make-believe creatures and fairytale monsters.

  Or maybe they were all real?

  ~

  ~PROLOGUE~

  The shaman put his arms high above his head, fingers pointed skyward and then, in measured slowness, in time to the beating of the drums, brought them down out horizontal on either side of his body.

  His palms were facing down, towards Mother Earth at first, but then he began ever so gently, rotating his wrists to face the sun and the sky. The movement of his wrists was so very slow, infinitesimal at first, but somehow the girl knew that something drastic and profound would happen when he was done. She tried again to wiggle on the cold granite straining against the ropes holding her securely to it.

  "Shush, daughter,” came the gravely voice of an old wench who had somehow materialized by her side.

  “Don't touch me, witch,” hissed the girl but the woman simply chuckled brushing away the hair from her matted forehead. Then she turned and with a start the girl realized the old woman had picked up a dark blade of green obsidian. Panic gripped her heart digging in its icy fingers and squeezing mercilessly. Her muscles froze and she couldn’t breathe. She saw the blade approach ever so slowly, in time to the shaman's outstretched hands. It came lower and lower to hover above her naked abdomen.

  Then it made contact. Ever so slightly.

  The girl tried sucking in her belly, she tried to put a precious few millimeters more of distance between herself and the infernal object, but there was nowhere to go. The merciless knife came down, and then it cut into her flesh. The shaman’s hands were facing the sun

  The drums stopped. Not a sound could be heard. A vale had descended muffling the gathered multitudes as they gaped at the spectacle up on the dais before them. It had been a long time indeed since the last human sacrifice. So long, that no one alive now had been around the last time the obsidian had been covered in the blood of the ritual.

  The cold surface of the razor-sharp tool of torture lingered as if hesitating along the girl’s skin. Then it plunged, pushed in, and dived into her body.

  The girl’s scream split the world as if rendering it in two.

  The crowd erupted. To the girl it sounded like the enthusiastic applause of an adoring multitude at the concert of a famous musician. Why? It seemed like the only logical question, and it kept floating and floating through her mind. Why me? Why the pain?

  The question Why was the last thought she had that day.

  Lena:

  Strangely, the deeper they led me into the cave, the better the lighting seemed to get. Flaming torches and a multitude of candles lined the walls, and yet I never noticed any smoke. A sudden draft of air washed all around me eliciting tight goosebumps across my body. No doubt the constant movement of air had something to do with the smokeless interior of the cave. In spite of the draft it wasn't cold though. In fact, it felt somewhat warmer than it had been outside when I had been helped off the horse carriage.

  We had been walking for some time now. I caught myself wondering how deep underground we were. What if the cave suddenly collapsed in on us? The speed of recent events hadn’t given me time to dwell on what was happening with me or even to voice an opinion. Last time I had protested a brutish man's attempt to remove my chastity belt I had been soundly spanked and then injected with something that had made me fall unconscious. I wasn’t exactly sure how long ago that had happened. It was only recently that I had come back to my senses, lying on a somewhat comfortable caught in a straw hut in what appeared to be a tropical paradise. Then people came and without actually speaking to me, gave me water and food. Then they helped me onto a horse-drawn cart and now here I was – following a matronly kind of woman inside.

  I looked about me seeing groups of women and men all make way as our tiny procession walked on. At least I was no longer the only one naked. In fact, no matter how hard I tried, I simply couldn’t see a single person wearing any sort of garments. The most dressed of the lot was my chaperone who had something like an apron wrapped around her wide waist. In spite of her girth the woman seemed to be in a hurry and it was all I could do to try and keep up with her. Naked and barefoot I padded after her down seemingly endless subterranean passageways. The heavily tattooed matron had a stern expression which stifled any desire for conversation in me.

  Judging by the faint musky scent of unobtrusive yet ever-present body odor mixed with the wisps of earthiness and mossy peat that permeated the inside of the cave, I suppose we were quite a ways away from civilization. Who were these people? Did they even speak English? What had happened with the man without a tongue dressed all in black and his partner who had taken me from my Master’s home? The people here couldn’t be more different. They seemed exceptionally timid and almost docile in comparison to pretty much everyone I had encountered previously. Except for the matron and the giant of a man whose hulking presence I felt shadowing me behind, everybody else was the picture of tranquility and peace.

  The tap – tap – tap of my naked feet echoed from the barren cave walls and mingled with the singsong rhythm of water droplets falling onto the tips of stalactites. As we kept on walking one droplet fell across my nipple. I jumped rubbing anxiously at it. The spot where it had landed felt as if it had been lanced by a needle of ice. The droplet had to have fallen from very high up. I stopped and tried to peer through the darkness but could see nothing. How strange.

  "Akuba," growled the man behind me and gently but resolutely urged me onward. I guess he wasn’t another mute then.

  Then suddenly the woman in front stopped and I nearly pushed into her. Wordlessly the matron pointed at what appeared to be a random corner of the cave.

  "Go to bathroom there now." My jaw dropped in stunned outrage. Surely she didn't expect me to just squat and relieve myself just like that, in front of everybody! I was just about to protest when I was stunned out of my thoughts by a sharp pain that had suddenly erupted across the left cheek of my buttocks.

  “Aiiieee!” I turned to glare at the giant behind me who had obviously and quite callously slapped me with some force. I rubbed at the rapidly heating flesh wondering what to do. He seemed almost a head taller than me and probably more than five times my weight. But hell if I was going to let myself be manhandled like that! Then my eyes drifted to a gaggle of little kids off to the side whose smiley faces seemed outrageously entertained by my little predicament. I blushed deeply wondering what was worse – being spanked and made to relieve myself naked and in front of everybody in the corner of the cave, or being laughed at by a group of kids hardly out of toddlerhood?

  "Now!" The woman repeated impatiently. SLAP! came down the powerful hand of the giant, this time across my left breast which jiggled rapidly turning ruby red. This really hurt.

  "Ouch! Stop it!”

  “Then, do it. And he’ll stop hitting you.”

  “But –“

  Slap! Slap! Slap! My screams were ear-piercing! My breasts felt as if they’ll come right off my chest! The more they hit me, the more the pain grew until it blossomed into the realization that these people had no shame. They simply wa
nted the same from me! They wanted me, just like them, to go relieve myself in the corner like they probably did all the time.