Torturous Existence

by Candace Smith

  An identical scenario was being played out with her friends and Taylor said loudly, “Back to camp, boys.” The big gray horse moved forward and the leash tightened, pulling Sabra along behind him.

  One by one the girls began voicing their anger, and Sabra charged the back of the gray horse and swung her leg out to kick it while screaming, “You bastard. You have no right to do this to us.”

  Taylor stopped his horse, and although he been smiling while he looked towards the mountains ahead, when he turned to face his captive, he had a glaring malice on his face as he dismounted and approached her. He viciously pulled her head to the back by her hair, and then he jammed the gag in her mouth. While he was buckling it to the back of her head, he said, “That has earned you your third punishment, and if you go after my horse again, I will make sure that every man in the settlement gets a piece of that blonde bitch’s ass.”

  Taylor and his men had been fortunate enough to pick up several nomadic bands of women who had all mistakenly figured hiding out in the least of desirable places, at least from a weather standpoint, would protect them. This last hunt gave them an even number of women to men. Taylor did not know why he had not settled for one of the first women they had acquired several months ago, but after seeing the fearful spirited eyes of this one, he was glad he had waited.

  The group traveled around the rocky base of the mountain with the four extra riders surrounding the other men leading the frightened women. Most of their attention was on their footing, as the loose rock made for a treacherous trail with their arms secured behind them. Sabra occasionally glanced up to study the back of the man on the horse in front of her. The man was tall and muscular, and the confidence exuded from his silence made her very nervous.

  She tried to turn to look at her friends as they followed behind her, but it was too difficult to navigate that way and she was afraid she would fall. Their was a hollow feeling in her stomach as she realized Jocelyn was not going to be able to figure out a way to escape until they reached their destination, and she pictured Irene’s battered body and Lucy’s still form when she had made the decision to end her life rather than subject herself to the beasts the men had become.

  In the distance, she saw smoke wafting up into the air from several chimneys, and Sabra knew that they were reaching the men’s camp. As they were led into the settlement, she looked around at the barn and corral, the bunkhouse, the dozen newer cabins and a large ranch house.

  More cowboys came out to greet them, hooting appreciative encouragement at their friends’ good fortune. Sabra did not pay much attention to the newcomers. Her focus was on the naked women kneeling by the men’s sides, some with blank stares and others still managing a semblance of fear. None held anger or the calculating narrowed eyes of someone still planning an escape. Those emotions had either been beaten or tortured out of them, and Sabra shivered as she wondered which look her eyes would eventually portray.

  Taylor dismounted his horse and one of the cowboys took the reigns and led the animal to corral after he had unclipped the leash from the saddle. Sabra saw Emmy, Angie and Betsy were crying silently behind their gags, but it was Jocelyn’s faded façade of strength as fear filled her blue eyes that finally frightened Sabra into the realization their lives were forever changed.

  The men had been right about Jocelyn. She had been Irene’s lover for three months before the woman had been brutalized. Now, the doctor looked into the lecherous eyes of a man… the same kind of beast who had tortured her girlfriend.

  Sabra felt a tug on the leash, and her feet stumbled behind Taylor towards the ranch house while her friends were led in other directions towards the smaller cabins. By the time they had climbed the steps onto the wide wooden porch, Sabra was trembling. Taylor opened the door and jerked her into the foyer before kicking it closed behind them.

  He pulled her into a large living room with a huge river rock fireplace, several couches and overstuffed chairs, and a heavy wooden desk that seemed to be the focal point of the room… maybe because of the post with the chains standing in front of it. Sabra was terrified.

  Taylor dropped the leash and removed her gag before sitting down on a chair in front of her. He studied the rising fear in her green eyes and the slight tremble that caused her generous breasts to quiver. The woman was perhaps a few inches shorter than he would have preferred, but with her slim waist and rounded hips she was more than enticing. Even with dust of travel on her, the summer sun had picked up the deep red highlights in her long dark hair.

  “You made it longer than most,” his deep voice began. “Over a year. That tells me your little group of women has some survival skills. You had better learn quickly not to apply them to escape, but rather to pleasing your new masters.”

  Sabra’s eyes widened with his words, and he continued. “You’ve only been fooling yourself if you think you could last out there without us.” He nodded towards the window. “This little ‘bug’ that was released just helped put things back into the natural order again. I’m sure you and your girlfriends have noticed that we’ve changed a bit.”

  Sabra and her friends had discussed over the months whether the men realized something had altered them. She now had the answer.

  The man gave a low chuckle, tossed his hat on the sofa across from him and ran his fingers through his hair before addressing her again. “We actually had some nurse tell us all about how different levels of this or that were enhanced or multiplied by the epidemic. She offered to try to help us balance or offset the condition.”

  Sabra thought of Jocelyn’s discovery and wondered if the man was open to a suggestion of trying, until he said, “She is now on her knees by her master like she should be, and she doesn’t try to tell us how she wants to turn us back into the castrated geldings we were before this new order.”

  “You will be serving my needs and desires, just as women were meant to do before they decided to try to grow balls and put themselves in a fantasy world of equality with us. The fact that you are bound and standing before me should assure you of our superiority.”

  Sabra began to back up and shake her head. The man’s words were insane… completely insane… and yet, she felt a twinge low in her belly. It scared her, because she recognized it as the first stirring of arousal she had experienced since the early months after the epidemic when she still missed the comfort of a man.

  “Stand still,” he thundered. “I did not give you permission to move.”

  Sabra’s eyes searched wildly around the room for escape as she kept backing away. He quickly stormed over to her and gripped the leash just under her throat. “You have earned a fourth punishment.” He felt the masterful swelling of his organ as she trembled harder and her green eyes filled with liquid fear.

  His free hand reached around her back and pulled the securing lace loose from her wrist cuffs. Sabra’s arms swung to the front, and she attempted to pry his fingers off the leash to push him away. He tightened his grip and lifted her to her toes. “Put your hands at your sides, slave.” His smile was contemptuous as his eyes challenged her to dispute his claim.

  The collar was choking her, and after a couple more futile attempts to get him to release the leash, she dropped her arms down to her sides. “There are very few rules. Acknowledge me as your Master; make your only desire to please me, and obey me.” He stared into her terrified face and was almost throbbing with the need to spread her over the desk and thrust into her. “Three rules. You have been told what they are, and any infraction will result in punishment.” He released her collar and sat back in his chair, while Sabra stared at him in mute horror.

  “Strip. Let me see my new possession.” His eyes pierced her through the shadow of the room, and she remained frightened and immobile. A smile lifted the corner of his mouth as he said, “That will be your fifth punishment. I think I’m going to enjoy training you.”

  Sabra’s eyes were drawn to the hand absently stroking the bulge in his jeans, and through her terror she once
again felt the cringe of her long abandoned pussy as if it recognized relief was within reach. Relief that was owned by an insane man… owned just as she was. Without warning, he jumped from the chair and was in front of her in less than a second. Sabra yelped in surprise at how unbelievably swift he was, but the thought left her mind just as quickly when he once again grabbed the leash by her throat and used his other strong hand to rip her blouse from the neck to the hem, causing the buttons to clatter and ricochet off the wood floor.

  Tears drenched her cheeks as she began wailing in earnest and slapping his hands away. “Get away from me. You’re insane,” she screamed.

  The hand came out of nowhere and slapped across her face. It stilled her instantly, and she again thought of the tortures committed on Irene by men who no longer had a conscience about how they treated women. Whatever the hell this new natural order was, it did not include treating them like ladies. Sabra stood still, other than her uncontrollable fearful quivering.

  Her shirt hung open, and she saw Taylor’s eyes sneering at the sports bra she was wearing under it. He hooked a finger under the bottom of the stretchy cotton and she felt it worming its way up the curve of her breast. Instinctively, she raised her hands and began trying to pull his hand away. Soft mewling sounds came from her mouth as he ignored her ineffectual attempts at delaying his progress to the peak, and she saw the blue of his eyes blazing with intensity as he gazed at the erect nubs outlined in the sturdy material. He growled… a terrifying animal sound… and ripped the covering from her. Sabra felt the burn where the seams had been jerked against her soft skin.

  At the unimpeded view of her breasts he groaned, and his arousal caused him to begin trembling, closely matching the quivering of her fear. Sabra’s scream froze in her throat. The look in his eyes, oh god, the look in his eyes was almost evil now that his sadistic desire was unleashed. Her hands had once again dropped to her sides, and she was reduced to whimpers.

  Taylor hastily removed the rest of her blouse and ran a hand over her slightly protruding ribs, the result of the lean diet most of the survivors existed on. Still maintaining his grip on the leash… and his fixed gaze on her breasts… he fumbled with the snap on her jeans. Somewhere in her mind, Sabra heard the metal of the zipper, and a hand began to push them down her legs. They lay pooled around the sneakers on her paralyzed feet, and a gasp followed by a hitched sob, accompanied the ripping and removal of her cotton panties.

  He smiled cruelly when his hand left the fullness of her breast, and she tried to slam her thighs together when she felt his finger divide her slit and stroke up the slick juices she was unaware she had expelled. Now his look was triumphant as he ran the finger, wet with her arousal, under his nose and inhaled with an almost shuddering gasp.

  The sound momentarily broke through her shocked numbness and she tried to kick him away. She was bewildered when her legs still refused to obey, until she realized her feet were shackled by her own pants. In frustrated desperation, she kicked off her sneakers so the jeans could slide off her feet, and as she raised one lean leg to connect with the ominous bulge nestled close to her belly, he pulled her against him and smashed an open palm on her bottom. A million needles pierced her flesh, right before her pussy spasmed once again in a perverted erotic response.

  She shrieked and thrashed in outrage at both his treatment of her and her body’s reaction to the abuse. Again his hand came down hard on her rounded globes, and it caused her to rock into his body, forcing her to recognize the rigid shaft wedged between them and, in turn, causing her to freeze once more.

  Sabra stilled as she remained pressed up against him, and quieted her shrieks to shuddering breaths. Taylor continued to hold her close, and she felt the tight muscles of his chest against her cheek. She smelled the masculine musk that she had all but forgotten. If he wanted to punish her, then by holding her close enough for her to remember and long for the men from before, the men that loved to hang out or gently caress, the men who would protect with their strength… yes, if he wanted to punish her, he had succeeded by reminding her once more of a life with love that would be forever gone. She felt her desire leak from within her.

  Taylor pushed back his need and luxuriated in the feel of her. He slowly pulled away and studied her eyes, and he absorbed the fear and despair in them. Still holding the leash so close to the collar that his knuckles brushed the bottom of her chin while he continued to possess her gaze, he demanded, “What are the three rules?”

  Sabra’s lips merely quivered in silence. Taylor dragged her to the pole in front of the desk and he pressed her belly against it as he secured her wrist cuffs high over her head. He pulled on the chain until she balanced on her toes. She was wailing now, and he delighted in the sound as he ran his hands down the sides of her body, enjoying the curve of her waist and the slope of her hips. He slipped the auburn braid over her shoulder, and she felt it fall over one breast.

  Stepping in close, he once again demanded, “What are the three rules?”

  Sabra leaned her forehead against the rough wood and silently stared at the floor. Her shocked mind retreated to the world before this madness. The world before the sickness, before Irene, and before Taylor.

  She thought about her apartment, and she wondered if the black mini dress with the silver sequined trim still hung in the closet, waiting to make its debut. The dress would have looked good on her, and if it had not been for the damn phone bill, she would have worn it Saturday night.

  Her scrambled thoughts ran along these lines until she felt a burning streak of fire cross her bottom, and she screamed. Somewhere in the distance, she heard a deep voice demanding, “What are the three rules?”

  Three rules? Three rules. What are the three rules? A river of pain seared across her thighs and she yelped. The sound of her own voice seemed to break the trance as she was reluctantly brought back to her current circumstances. Again, the powerful arm threw the whip, and this time it singed her shoulders, and she screamed, “Obey.” Her mind searched frantically for the words that would make the torment end, and the next lash ripped across the sensitive skin at the base of the cheeks of her bottom. “The truth, not to lie.” Sabra had no idea what rules he was asking for.

  Taylor realized she had come back from wherever she had retreated, and he walked up to her. He ran calloused fingers along the swollen crests of the welts, and said, “There are three rules for you to remember, slave. Acknowledge me as your Master, make your only desire to please me; and obey me.”

  Sabra cried quietly, and Taylor gripped her hair, forcing her head back, and he hissed, “Say it.”

  Her voice trembled as she repeated the horrifying rules he expected her to follow. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed around his boots when he released her from the pole. He stared down at her, fisted her hair and began to raise her. “On your knees beside your Master.”

  Sabra’s sob blurted from her throat and she remained on her knees with her back on fire and throbbing. “Acknowledge me,” he demanded. She was confused and terrified that she would be punished again for her silence. “I am your Master, slave. You will acknowledge my position over you. Answer me…say ‘Yes, Master’.

  The words were low, but they were spoken, and Taylor decided to slow things down before she retreated back into the fantasy world where her dreams and desires still mattered. “You’re filthy. You need to bathe before I will claim you. Stand.”

  Sabra slowly rose to her feet. She wrapped an arm across her breasts and modestly cupped her mound. “I did not give you permission to withhold yourself from my view. I will always desire to look at what is mine.” He jerked her arms down by her sides, and she moaned and clenched her fists opened and closed.

  He clipped the lead back onto the ring in the front of her collar, and on shaky legs she followed him through the house. The door at the end of the hall opened to a bedroom, and her eyes widened at the torturous equipment and restraints throughout the large room. He kept walking her towards the bathroom.<
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  “Get in the shower,” he ordered.

  Sabra began to move passed him, and his hand slammed down on her sore rump. “Acknowledge me, slave,” he demanded.

  “Yes, Master,” she wailed as her hands rubbed the stinging print.

  “I did not give you permission to comfort yourself. That is a reward you are far from earning.”

  Sabra dropped her hands and edged towards the marble shower on the back wall. She watched him warily as he looked in a cabinet and picked out some shampoo and gel soaps. There was an array of feminine scents, and it was obvious he had spent time adding to his collection until he found the woman who would wear the fragrance he desired. Sabra thought the curiosity of the collection seemed at odds with a man determined to consider her a mere possession, and yet he still yearned for the scent that would remind them both of her soft femininity.

  The shower actually had warm water, a luxury she had not experienced in more than a year without bathing in warm summer ponds or heating cool spring water over fire. She learned later that the compound had been wired for electricity and a limited supply was available from generators cranked up at various times of the day and fueled by the endless supply of gasoline that no one needed any more.