by Declan Brand
“That should hold you,” he smiled into her face and flicked a finger at one of the weights on her nipples, watching her eyes shut at the pain the movement of the thing brought her.
“Now,” he stripped off his shirt and pants, let himself drop onto the bed. “Climb up here and get me ready—you know how.”
Kelly’s eyes widened at the order. How can I move with my legs tied this way? But his tone told her that she had to obey, so she forced her still-cramped and hurting legs to push her forward until she was able to lean on the side of the bed. Once there, she was able to balance herself on her knee-tips, then pull herself onto the bed.
The motion caused the clips on her breasts to dig in even deeper, and she couldn’t suppress the moan this pain forced out of her.
The master ignored the noise, and watched as she continued her climbing-crawl toward his now-erect penis. It took her time—and cost her a great deal of agony, but finally she was in position—and at his gesture, she sank down onto his penis and began the work of preparing him to rape her.
I can’t believe I’m doing this, she told herself as her tongue moved over the base of his dick. Why doesn’t it disgust me more? Have they broken me that completely?
She knew that her will had been damaged—she would do anything to keep the man under her from getting angry—and finding a reason to punish her.
He has broken me. The thought didn’t frighten her as much as she thought it should—but it did make her think. No! I can still get away! I’m still an FBI Agent! I’m strong enough to save myself
She kept repeating that thought as he exploded into her mouth—kept repeating it as she swallowed every single drop of cum—and was still repeating it as she began licking and rubbing against him to try to get him hard once again.
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
After a long and strenuous night, Megan Kelly was awakened when a hand pulled her upright by her hair while another hand slapped her on her agonized breasts. Her scream would have been quite loud had the master not replaced her ring gag with a huge ball. This filled her mouth and kept her from making any unwanted noises.
Mike smiled at her muffled scream—and let her drop back onto the floor. He had decided to leave the clips on her throughout the night hours—and had hogtied her to force her to lie right on top of the metal teeth, driving them deep into her nipples. He knew that the pain of those teeth kept her from getting any real sleep—he also knew the marks of that sleepless night would stay with her for a very long time.
“Time to get up, slave.” He watched as she rolled onto her side, unable to do anything more from her hogtied and chained position. “You have another punishment to take today.” He smiled as he saw the shudder that ran down her body. “Just as soon as I have a shower and some coffee.”
He left her trembling on the floor as he stepped into the bathroom. He knew this would be his last chance to ensure that she would stay broken—and he didn’t want to fail on his first solo attempt.
Once he had washed, he pulled on a clean shirt and pants, then freed Kelly’s feet and ordered her to get up. It’s always fun to watch them struggle to their feet, he thought. Especially when they haven’t quite gotten their circulation going. He smiled as she whined in pain. Even more so when a set of breast clips are doing their job.
Kelly finally managed to get herself upright, and Mike quickly restored the hobble chain between her ankles. “Okay, slave.” He tugged at her leash. “Let’s see how you like this one!”
He led her back to the training room, where his assistant already had everything set up for his planned punishment. Kelly was led to the center of the room, than ordered to lie down—on her face.
Mike saw her hesitate at the command, realizing what the concrete floor would do to the clips still on her nipples.
“Must I repeat an order?” He slapped her right breast with an open hand, almost dislodging the weight there as the movement caused the pain to double. “Get down on the floor!”
Kelly was crying and moaning as she lowered herself—but she did as she was told, finally lying face-down on the concrete, the teeth of the clips digging ever deeper into her sensitive flesh.
“Good.” Mike nodded to his assistant and together they attached chains to each of her ankle cuffs. When they were attached, the hobble chain was removed—and Mike stepped to the winch at the side of the room. “Upsey Daisy!”
The winch whirred and Kelly’s legs were lifted, higher and higher until first her breasts, then her head, were free of the floor. She hung there, slowly swinging from side to side as Mike’s assistant stepped behind her and attached a third chain to her cuffed hands—this was pulled backwards and secured, stretching her into a ‘Y’ configuration; her legs spread apart, hands and arms helpless.
“I took it easy on you with yesterday’s whipping,” Mike told the upside down face of slave Megan. “But today will be a different story.” He spread his legs a bit, then took the strap his assistant handed him.
WHAP! The strap swung through the air and impacted directly between Kelly’s legs—right on her stretched pussy. She screamed into her gag, tried to pull away, tried to roll into a ball.
And stayed exactly where Mike had put her.
WHAP! The second stroke was worse than the first, falling right on top of the area already reddened and irritated by the first blow.
WHAP! Kelly was crying now, sobbing uncontrollably into the gag, any thought of who she was or what she would do completely lost in this new world of pain.
WHAP! Her cries were getting weaker now, the accumulated pain from the strap, the clips, and yesterday’s mistreatment starting to catch up to her.
WHAP! This scream was so loud, so frenzied, that a weakened echo actually managed to break past the gag.
Mike smiled at the forlorn sound and…
WHAP! Hit her one more time. He handed the strap back to his assistant, and stepped forward to lift Kelly’s head by her soaking wet hair. “Not quite what you expected was it slave!” He stared down into her feverish eyes. “I can do that every day—hell, I can do that every hour!” He smiled at her. “And I don’t even need a reason!”
He let her head fall, watched as it rocked slightly. “That’s what being a slave really means.” He took a step toward the door. “Get her down,” he motioned to his assistant. “When she’s on her knees, call me.”
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
It took nearly ten minutes for Mike’s assistant to get the slave down and onto her knees. It wasn’t that she wasn’t trying—it was simply that her body was so weak and in such pain that she was almost incapable of movement.
Finally, though, she was kneeling in the center of the floor, her hands cuffed behind her, her feet hobbled. She was swaying slightly back and forth, the room swimming around her, when the master returned.
“You look a little weak, slave.” Again, he flicked his finger at one of the breast clips, smiling as she fought back a scream. “Perhaps you haven’t had enough to eat.” He made a motion with his hand. “I think it’s time you had a solid meal—turn around.” The assistant was behind her and had placed a dish filled with some kind of grayish-brown material in it on the floor. Kelly realized it was a dog dish—just like the ones in the movie!
She wasn’t surprised when the master ordered her onto her belly. She bit into the gag and let herself fall forward as gently as possible. Her body twitched with pain as the clips dug into her nipples—but it seemed as if that pain was starting to lessen—perhaps the nerves are just worn out, she thought. She fought the shadowy pain back and pushed herself to the bowl of food.
I wonder what it is, she looked at the sloppy mass. I wonder what it tastes like. She waited, the gag in her mouth preventing her from doing anything else. Whatever it is, I need the moisture badly!
A masculine form squatted down behind her—it could have been either the master or his assistant—she couldn’t see.
“All right, slave.” It was the master—and he had loosene
d the buckle on her gag. “You have fifteen minutes.” He pulled the gag out. “I want that bowl sparkling clean when you’re done.”
Kelly didn’t hesitate. She dropped her face into the bowl and began to eat as quickly as she could. She tried to ignore the flavor, sure from the smell that it was pet food of some kind, but whatever the texture or flavor, it was food and her mouth was luxuriating in the moisture that she was taking in.
She was done in far less then fifteen minutes—and the bowl was, indeed, very clean when she pulled her face up to take a breath.
“A very thorough job, slave.” The master was right alongside her, the ball gag ready in his hand. “Now, open wide.”
Kelly complied, opening her mouth as wide as it would go—what’s the use of resisting? He’d just force it in! She moved her jaw around a bit, letting the ball fall into its familiar place, then waited for her next order.
“On your feet, slave.” It was a familiar command—and one which was always hard to comply with, bound as she was. Still, she didn’t want to be punished again, so she wriggled her body upright, then pushed herself from her knees onto her feet.
This time, she hadn’t been tied in such a way that she’d lost circulation—she had no trouble staying upright.
“Not bad.” The master stepped up alongside her, snapping her leash into place. “I guess practice really does help.” He stepped toward the door, the leash in his hand. “Heel,” he said, expecting her to do so—and she did, walking that measured one and a half steps behind.
She was surprised when they went right back to what she now thought of as his room. There was no stop at the bathing room—or, for that matter, the bathroom.
I’d better not lose control and wet the floor, she told herself. I don’t even want to think what the punishment for that would be!
Once inside the room, the master, as usual, ordered Kelly to kneel at the foot of the bed. When she had done so, he took the straps from a cabinet on the wall and spread them alongside her, ready to lock her legs into the kneeling position. He removed her hobble chain in preparation for that, then stopped as a bell went off at one side of the room.
“That’s odd.” He stood up, stepped to the bedside—and picked up the phone there. “Yes?”
Kelly watched and listened to the side of the conversation she could hear. It seemed that another girl was being delivered tonight—and her master was supposed to see to her ‘introduction’. Maybe he won’t rape me tonight, Kelly told herself. Maybe I’ll finally be allowed to get some sleep!
The thought had barely crossed the surface of her mind when the master hung up and turned toward her. “If you’re thinking that you’ll have an easy night,” he smiled. “Forget it.” That shipment is hours away—and I think I’ll let my assistant play with you when I go back to work.”
He leaned down, ran his hand down her cheek. “I don’t think you’ll give him any trouble—will you, slave?”
Kelly quickly shook her head.
“I didn’t think so.” He looked down at her. “You know, when I was assigned to break you and get that information, I thought it would be a much harder job.” He stood up, stepped toward his bathroom. “I mean, I expected an FBI agent to have a lot more guts than you do! I didn’t expect a creampuff!” He went into the bathroom, shut the door behind him.
Kelly suddenly realized that he hadn’t secured her feet! Her hands were still cuffed behind her but her feet were free! I’m a creampuff, am I? She quietly got up. No guts? She silently moved to the door of the room, half-turned to allow her fingers to grasp the knob—pulled it open.
I’ll show you! She stepped outside and very carefully shut the door as silently as she could. I’ll get out of here—turn you all in! She looked both ways, saw that the corridor on her right led away from the ‘Training Room’ she had spent so much time in. That way, she went to the right, away from the area she knew to be inhabited by the torturers. Got to move quickly… She began to run, her bare feet making no sound on the concrete floor. Got to find a way out…
The complex was a huge maze—but Kelly kept running, always to the right, always away from what she knew to be the area used for training slaves. Finally, she came to a double door made of red metal. She stopped at the door, leaning against it as she panted for breath. I should see if I can rub off these breast clips! The teeth kept digging into her, the weights swinging from side to side, keeping her in pain constantly.
The thought of ripping the teeth through her flesh stopped her from trying that. Just get away, she told herself. The cops will get the clips off—and the cuffs and gag too! She swung her hip to the side, gripped the handle of the red door—pulled it open.
It’s a parking garage! She saw the various cars and trucks parked on either side of the concrete structure. How big is this place?
She kept moving, running where she could, walking when her lungs felt like they were going to explode. Eventually, she found the ramp that led to the surface—and ran into the open air for the first time since she had been captured in the mountains.
It was early evening—the sun was down but full darkness had not yet set in. She was in a rather rustic area, the road that led into the garage the only sign of civilization she could make out. There’s got to be something around here! She turned away from the road, sure that her master—that man!—knew she was gone and was hunting for her. I’ve got to get out of here—lose myself in the brush!
She plunged into the scrub brush and weeds to the side of the garage entrance. The ground was rocky, and her feet were hurting before she’d gone ten feet. Still, she persevered and kept moving, glancing back toward the garage entrance, waiting for some kind of pursuit to appear.
They must have missed me by now! She kept moving forward, cursing inwardly as she stubbed a toe against a hidden rock. They can’t just let me go! There’s too much at stake!
She had gone about half a mile when she saw a light behind her. As she had been taught, she dropped to the ground, cursing and suppressing a cry of pain as the breast clips dug into her nipples again. I’ve got to get rid of those things!
The light came a bit closer—and she saw that it was a car’s headlights. They’re looking for me. She ducked her head, got as low to the ground as she could. I can’t let them find me—not after coming this far!
The car kept creeping toward her—following a dirt path about ten feet in front of her. It was just about to pass her position when it suddenly stopped.
Damn!
“Agent Kelly?”
Megan Kelly heard the voice—recognized it—and realized that with a shock that she was saved. It’s Ms. Blanchette! Kelly forced herself upright, started to make what noise she could so the Deputy Director could find her. They’ve found me! Joy filled her as her boss turned in her direction—waved to show that she’d been seen. Thank God!
Kelly ran toward the senior agent, almost falling twice before reaching her.
“It is you, Agent Kelly.” Blanchette looked at her, took in the gag, the handcuffed wrists—reached out to touch the breast clips. “My, my—look what they’ve done to you.”
“”It’s nothing compared to what we will do if she doesn’t get into the proper position!”
Kelly whirled at the familiar voice. It can’t be!
But it was. As the master got out of the car, she immediately dropped to her knees, the familiar fear running through her.
Her master strode toward her, nodding as she dropped her head before his gaze. “We broke her, got the info you wanted,” he smiled. “You know, I would have liked to see your face when she brought the film into your office—I’ll bet you thought she had figured out that you were part of the group.”
“It did worry me for a second,” the Deputy Director of the FBI smiled toward the slaver. “After all, I had just purchased that sweet little brunette from Harry—if someone in the office found out…”
“But she didn’t know anything—she was just blundering around.”
; “I had no way of knowing that,” Blanchette shrugged her shoulders. “She did figure out that Harry was involved—and she found the farmhouse pretty quick.”
“Yeah—she’s not an idiot.”
“She is a slave, though.” Ms. Blanchette reached out and stroked the kneeling girl’s cheek as she clipped a leash to Kelly’s collar. “And now, she’s my slave.” She turned back toward the car.
“One thing before you take her away.”
“What’s that?”
“I’ve got something that belongs to her.” Mike reached into his pocket and pulled out Megan’s badge. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to give it back to her.”
Blanchette smiled a predatory smile. “Be my guest.”
Megan kept her head down as the master squatted beside her. When he pinned her badge back through her nipple, she wailed a wail of hopeless agony.
“Heel, slave.”
Megan Kelly, former FBI agent, now a slave, moaned as she struggled to her feet and followed her new mistress to the car and a new kind of captivity—carefully keeping one and one half paces behind the other woman.
THE END
