Klitzman's Empire (The Klitzman Stories Book 2)

by Paul Blades

  I sat back down on the chair from which I had witnessed her coupling with Rukimo and let the force of her crying exhaust itself. When she had calmed down, I spoke to her. “Kneel up straight, slave.” She did as I commanded. Her eyes were red and her face flushed. Her lips trembled as she looked at me pleadingly.

  “You have much to learn, slave,” I told her. “Your obedience and acceptance of your duty to serve are the only things which will save you from punishment here. And even then you must accept pain and suffering as your lot if those who you must serve desire that you should feel it.” She looked at me not quite sure if the pain I was talking about would come her way shortly or not.

  “Today will begin your training,” I continued. “When you are thought sufficiently earnest and skilled in giving pleasure your conditions will improve. But you must earn it. Do you understand?” I asked her. The slave nodded meekly.

  “Come here,” I told the desirable, young woman who was once named Joanna. She began to rise to her feet. “No, on your knees.” I snapped harshly. She fell back to her knees and made her way slowly over to where I was sitting. I waited until she was at my feet. “Learn this slave,” I told her. “As of today you have no name. You will answer only to the call of ‘slave’. When and if your new masters desire it, they will give you a name. But for now, you are nameless. Even more, you are no longer a person. You are property, a thing to be used in the manner and at times of your masters’ choosing. Your body is no longer yours. It is ours, your masters’. To the extent that we permit you to occupy it and use it, you will do so at our command and for our pleasure. Do you understand?”

  The girl’s face clearly showed the horror and fear she felt at this moment. She was undoubtedly wondering what she had ever done to deserve such cruel and callous treatment. Several days ago, at most a week, she was going about her daily life, her future still bright, her will her own. But it was best for her that she understand immediately and clearly what her future held now. At least she would leave this room knowing what she had to do to minimize her suffering. Accepting her fate was what the next few weeks would be all about. For now, at least, she would begin to learn it.

  She had not replied to my question so I took her chin in my hand and squeezing her graceful but unhappy face, pulled her closer. “A slave must answer her master. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, yes, oh my god, yes!” she replied excitedly. “But please don’t hurt me, please, I’ll do anything you ask!”

  “You will do what more than what I ask, you will do what I and others command. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, yes!” she said anxious not to displease one who obviously held immense power over her. Her face was a mask of fear and self-pity. She was sobbing again.

  “Say ‘Yes, master’.”

  “Yes, master,” she returned obediently between sobs.

  “Good. Now listen to me,” I told her. “You are never to speak unless spoken to. You should always answer your masters quickly and completely. But never say more without permission. Do you understand.”

  “Yes, master,” the frightened girl mumbled.

  “Now, before we leave this room, you will lick my cock clean of your juices and mine. I want you to take my cock in your mouth and suck it until I come. Do you understand?”

  Looking at me sorrowfully, she nodded ‘yes’, and then, remembering my instructions to her, murmured quickly “Yes, master.”

  I reopened my robe and spread my legs, exposing my soft, yet still blood filled cock. She looked at me with her doe like eyes and then bent over hesitatingly, her long black hair falling around her face, and took my manhood into her mouth. My cock was soft, but still slightly engorged, making it easy for her to slide her lips over and around it. She took it between her lips and moved her head back and forth slowly. I could see her arched back, the smooth curves of her pale white rear globes, her firm, toned arms linked at the wrists behind her, fingers flailing helplessly. I placed my hands on her soft shoulders. Her eyes looked up at me, beseeching me for approval. “Move your tongue over the head, lick it,” I told her.

  I could hear her mumble an acknowledgement, muffled by her mouthful of hot flesh. I had to admit it was hard to lick a cock without being able to hold it still with your hands, but she was working earnestly and, after a while, efficiently, applying her long, pink tongue to the underside of my glans, licking the long, thick shaft of my prick. My cock had grown hard and I could feel the rise of my physical passion. “Now take it back into your mouth,” I ordered her, “as far as it will go.”

  She opened her mouth wide and drew my stiffening rod inside. I held her head and pushed her down on my cock until I felt the back of her throat. I could hear her beginning to gag. “Now suck softly,” I whispered as I drew her head back, holding her hair in my fist. Slowly up and down I moved her head, her lips massaging the length of my cock as her tongue swirled around it. I had judged from both the lack of blood and ease of penetration of her cunt that she was no virgin. Now, from her not unskilled ministrations, I concluded that she had performed this favor before. Voluntarily, perhaps, but certainly more than once.

  I let her continue for about five minutes, her lips and tongue tantalizing my rigid pole. I closed my eyes and reveled in this new slave girl’s mouth. She worked her tongue and lips over me assiduously, desperate to satisfy my command. When I felt I was nearing my climax, I pulled her head back until only the head of my cock was within her mouth. I felt her swirl her tongue around it and my cock began to throb and spurt my white, creamy fluid between her lips. Her head recoiled slightly as she realized that I was pumping my jism into her. I held her head tightly so that every drop of my spending would find its way into her oral cavity. My pulsing prick was sending jolts of pleasure throughout my body. I sighed as I felt my balls empty into her.

  The girl whined as her mouth filled with my spunk. I had the feeling that in her prior experiences of sucking cock she had forsworn letting the thing actually unload onto her tongue. But the men she would meet soon would not countenance reticence on the part of a slave girl. It was well she learned to accept a man’s discharge now.

  When my cock had spent itself, I allowed the girl to pull her head back. I could see that she still had my juices inside of her mouth. “Swallow it!” I ordered her curtly. I saw her grimace and her throat contract. When the sperm had descended down her esophagus, she looked up at me expectantly, afraid of what new trial I would impose on her.

  “Very good, slave,” I told her. “You learn well. Now we will go to the training rooms. Stand up.” The girl rose to her feet with my help. She swayed slightly, but then steadied herself. She stood about 5’4”, or up to my chest. I examined the bonds behind her to see they were tight and then walked over to the cabinet on the wall. I retrieved a gag and hood and stepped up in front of her. I ordered her to open her mouth and when she did, I slid the business end of the gag inside. Her eyes widened slightly as the gag filled her mouth. I fastened it behind her and then pulled the hood over her head. It was gathered by a leather belt at the neck which I clamped shut. This had a small ring to which I attached a leather lead.

  Before leading her away, I took the time to appreciate the girl’s lovely body. Her heavy, plump globes rose and fell with her agitated breathing. Her feet were wide apart for balance and her still abundant black thatch concealed her soft nether lips. The shiny evidence of my and Rukimo’s discharges was on her delicate thighs. Her taut stomach fluttered nervously. She was a prize all right. She would give many men pleasure. Her pale skin and lovely breasts invited the whip and I realized that she would probably suffer considerable abuse because of it. I reached out and caressed her breast, making the girl shiver.

  I led the girl from Rukimo’s office and into the corridor. She followed docilely. The guard there passed me through the door to the training areas. The place was like a rabbit’s warren, all twists and turns. I still hadn’t seen all of the rooms. Rukimo had said he would be in his special training roo
m and the guard directed me there. It was down a flight of stairs. I rang the buzzer. Only he had the key to this private playroom and he had apparently paused in disciplining a slave in order to admit the new girl, the former Joanna, and myself. “Harry, what took you so long. I thought you got lost.” Rukimo said teasingly, a whip in his hand.

  “No, I was just enjoying this delightful creature,” I answered. “She’s a quick learner.”

  “Harry, I’m pleased that you have gotten into the spirit of things.” Rukimo clapped me on the back, laughing. His mighty blow rattled my teeth. “And now we will take care of this little beauty and have a little chat of our own,” he said.

  He took the lead from my hand and pulled the girl over to the center of the room. He removed the hood and gag and then untied the leather bindings from her wrists. The girl stood there warily, her eyes quickly taking in her surroundings: the cages, two of them filled with gagged and bound women, the long chain descending from the ceiling (she had undoubtedly learned what this was for already), the divan, the stocks, the whips on the walls. This was not Club Med. Her whole body seemed to cringe.

  The slave Rukimo had been disciplining, a tall, shapely blonde, stood tiptoed against the far wall, her hands joined above her. Her low moans and the sweat glistening on her body testified to the fact that she had been recently beaten as did the angry red welts which had arisen on her flesh. On her right rear cheek was an enflamed red, cursive ‘k’, apparently recently applied to her body. Rukimo took the hood and gag he had just removed from the new girl and placed them on the blonde. He spoke to the petit, black haired girl.

  “Now my little pretty, we must get you properly outfitted for your new position in life. Please sit here on this divan.” Rukimo took the girl’s hand gently in his and led her over to the sofa. He sat her down and then walked over to the cabinet, pulling out a thick leather collar and bracelets. He laid them next to the girl on the divan. Her eyes riveted on them.

  “Now this little collar should fit you nicely,” he said as he lifted it up off of the divan. Pushing her long black hair off of her shoulders, he clipped it around her neck and locked it shut. Her hands went quickly to her neck, feeling the ring embedded in the front and the back and then darted away, as if burned by fire. More likely that she feared taking any acts which were not specifically permitted. A wise policy. “To fasten you with my dear,” he told her as her eyes widened. “We can’t have you running around loose all the time can we? And now the bracelets.” He snapped them on each of her wrists and then lifting first one leg and then the other, he affixed the anklets in place.

  The girl cooperated with his every gesture as if in a dream, which in a sense, she was: a nightmare. She had stopped crying, but was clearly on the verge of another breakdown. Nothing in her life could have prepared her for this. I was sure that even her worst fears of violence and brutality, more particularly, rape and the deprivation of her liberty, had never presaged the cold cruel reality of the bindings which now encircled her neck, wrists and ankles.

  Rukimo lifted the girl to her feet. She was now fully outfitted as a slave. Fully available, yet subject to sudden and helpless confinement, the girl would begin to learn that her body, belonging as it did now to others, would serve as a prison for her soul. Her muscles would ache with the strains of confinement, her skin cry out under the rain of blows which would certainly come, the portals of her body would serve as the focal point of desire and possession. Her will would be destroyed, whether slowly, piece by piece, as happened in the strongest, most resolute of captives, or, quickly, without hesitation, with eagerness to avoid the consequences of resistance. It would happen one way or another. Or she would surely be destroyed. The sharks that infested the waters between the island and the mainland had feasted on more than one slave who had proved untrainable.

  The room we were in was dimly lit, the light coming from above from tracks on either side of the room. The cages against the far wall, which contained the two bound and gagged slaves, was directly lit as was the hooks and chains embedded in the wall opposite. Rukimo took the trembling young girl by the hand and led her to a three-sided mirror in the middle of the wall. A small spot light shone directly down in front of the mirror. He stood the girl in the center of the mirror under the light. Her eyes had been on Rukimo, doubtlessly anxiously awaiting the next cruel trick in store for her.

  “Look in the mirror, slave,” Rukimo said softly. The girl’s eyes moved slowly to the mirror which was filled with her image, naked, yet clothed with the bindings which would serve as accomplices in the tortures and indignities yet to come. A look of surprise, tinged with horror, crossed her face as if confronted with a strange, fearsome creature. Her free hand rose slowly to her neck to feel the collar there. Suddenly, she burst into tears.

  “Oh please, please, why are you doing this to me?” she asked piteously. Her voice cracked as she sobbed. “I can’t believe this is happening to me! I can’t believe it! Oh god, please let me go! Please, please, please!” She collapsed to the floor, Rukimo gripping her one hand as she slumped into a small pile. Rukimo reached over to the wall and pulled on a chain which descended from the ceiling. He affixed the end to the girl’s wrist. As he did so, the girl looked up and, realizing that she was to be chained, yanked violently at her confined wrist.

  “No, no, no!” she yelled as she pulled on the chain. “You can’t do this, you can’t, please, you can’t! I can’t stand it, please, please!” As she begged to be freed, she writhed on the floor pulling at her chained wrist. Her long, black hair splayed wildly around as she struggled, her muscles straining as she pulled hopelessly. Rukimo and I stood behind her, watching, our reflections partially obscured by hers. She stood and attempted to pull herself away from the mirror, her eyes wild with fear, staring first at her bound wrist, then at the two men who stood before her, awaiting their pleasure.

  Rukimo lashed out quickly, like a cat, and grabbed the girl’s free wrist. She intensified her pleading and screaming as Rukimo slowly drew the free wrist towards its mate. The girl’s efforts were feeble compared to Rukimo’s strength and the wrists were soon joined together, linked to the chain that descended from above. This seemed to signal an end to the girl’s efforts at resistance as she slumped once more to the softly carpeted floor, her hands held above her, suspended. Rukimo nodded to me and I moved to pull on the chain to raise it towards the ceiling. The end I held ran up to an eyehook embedded in the ceiling above and then ran down to the girl’s wrists. Without too much effort, I pulled her first to her knees and then to her feet. I lifted her hands high above her head, causing her to step up slightly on her toes. She was still rambling softly, begging, pleading, but hopelessly.

  The girl was free to twist and turn, and she did so, slightly at first, and then came to rest facing her own apparition in the mirror before her. Behind her image were the several cages that lined the opposite wall. I saw her eyes widen and her brow furrow as she took in the macabre scene behind her. The blonde girl was still sobbing and moaning. The two caged women were staring back at her, knowing full well that their turn at abuse too would come without fail. The newly enslaved, young girl whined softly and her hands tested the firmness of her bonds.

  Rukimo had stepped away and he returned in a moment carrying a gag and a long thin whip. He spun the girl around so she faced us. He slipped the gag home in the girl’s mouth with a single, practiced motion and then belted it tightly behind her head. He stepped back and presented the whip to her vision. “You have spoken without permission. You have also struggled against your bonds. You will be punished for this.” A loud, mournful whimper escaped from behind the gag. Two large, starry, blue eyes pleaded for mercy. “But first, you will remain here, in place, to contemplate your new fate. Look upon yourself in the mirror now behind you to see your helplessness. Look about this room and you will see in the cages others like yourself, slaves. Later, you will be confined there. But first, when I return, you will be punished and then taken to a pla
ce not far from here where the mark of your slavery will be affixed to your flesh.”

  Rukimo stepped towards the girl and tied the end of the whip to the ring in her collar. “Just so you don’t forget what will happen when I come back.” He reached up to her face, stroking it softly with his two hands, and then ran them down her neck and shoulders to her breasts. Leaning over, he placed his lips first on one nipple, then the next, while dropping his hand between her thighs. She tried to recoil from his grasp, but could only back away slightly towards the mirror. Rukimo put his left arm around her back and forced his hand between her thighs, grabbing her lower lips between his fingers. He squeezed tightly. “Oh, and you will be required to serve the pleasure of others who will be your masters here. But that will be the easy part,” Rukimo laughed. He released the terrified girl.

  “Come, Harry,” he said to me. “Let’s get some lunch, I’m starved.”

  As I walked out of the door to the large torture cell, I took a brief look back. The young girl, the blonde, was standing hooded and chained where Rukimo had left her, the girls in the cages peered out at us forlornly. The former Joanna was staring at her reflection in the mirror as if she was seeing an apparition. Her arms were extended high above her, her feet, arched onto her toes. Her face was partially obscured by the leather sheath that covered her mouth and chin, revealing only her startled eyes. The whip that dangled from her collar swung slightly between her pretty, vulnerable breasts as she shifted her weight from foot to foot. It was an unbelievable tableau. But it was real, as real as the bonds which confined these abject women and the lashes which would soon bite at their flesh. The door clanged loudly as Rukimo pulled it shut and locked it.

  * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  The young girl who had been used to calling herself Joanna, hung despondently from the end of a chain deep within the bowels of the high security training center on Klitzman’s island. Her skin still burned from the lashing she had received from the big, black man. She still didn’t know what she had done, or if it was just for the big man’s pleasure. She looked at the whip dangling between her bare breasts in the mirror. It was a harbinger of future pain and the site of it frightened her. Although the two men who had abused her had left only a few moments ago, her arms were already starting to become sore from the weight she was placing on them and her feet and calves had begun to cramp.