Caging Caitlyn

by Reese Gabriel

  And above all there was the thrill of seeing how the man enjoyed himself, sensing and relishing in his own domination. Even the most gentle of lovers was bound to turn against his woman in such a situation, calling her bitch and whore, grabbing her hair and telling her what to do.

  Draco was a different animal, though. He was a stone cold killer, a trainer and possessor of women and a sociopath to boot. It would be hard to satisfy a man like this. Maybe even impossible.

  "Do you know how much an attractive white girl is worth per hour as a whore, even in a pathetic country like this?” He queried in the midst of his rocking.

  It was a rhetorical question, obviously.

  "Thirty an hour minimum. Can you imagine that, Agent Ross? That's six hundred a day, allowing four hours for sleep and bodily functions."

  Caitlyn shuddered at the thought of performing twenty hours a day on her back or knees. It seemed incomprehensible, and yet as a federal agent familiar with the ways of white slavery, she knew it was a way of life for millions of women around the globe.

  Draco seized her ears, twisting them savagely. “A hundred cocks a day, Agent Ross. That's the math, if you're curious to add it up."

  Cait was more than ready to beg for mercy, but she had no voice. Doing as best she could with her eyes, she attempted to meet his gaze with total pliancy and surrender. He didn't need to prove his point anymore. She was ready, more than ready to follow his orders.

  "You could easily die in this room, Agent Ross. Chained to the bed, left here to be fucked till you're all used up. How does that sound?"

  She attempted to shake her head and mumble a protest.

  Draco continued to brutalize her mouth as he talked. “That doesn't appeal to you, Agent Ross? I'm surprised. As much as you like sex. Evidently you were in quite an aroused state when my men captured you."

  Cait blinked back tears.

  "No panties,” he summed up the situation. “A sopping wet cunt. Swollen, kissed lips. Erect nipples. Who was it, Caitlyn, hmm?"

  Draco pulled himself from her mouth and sat painfully on her stomach.

  "I asked you a question, Agent Ross."

  "A-a man...” she stuttered.

  He slapped her hard. “You're fucking with me, Agent Ross, and I don't like that."

  "I work with him,” she sobbed. “He's an agent, too."

  He reached across her to the nightstand. She hadn't noticed the rolled plastic tool holder. Opening it over her stomach, just below her breasts, he surveyed the various instruments of torture.

  "D-don't hurt me,” she pleaded, sounding nothing like a federal law enforcement agent and everything like a scared female. “I'll tell you what you want to know."

  "In ancient times slave testimony was only taken under torture. Did you know that?"

  "Lucas Dumont,” she blurted as he flashed the needle nosed pliers before her eyes. “He's the Special Agent-in-Charge."

  Draco clamped the cold instrument on her left nipple, just hard enough for her to feel the pressure. It was a terrible device, capable of crushing the tiny pink nub entirely.

  "Interesting,” Draco mused. “Apparently your pussy is among the things he's in charge of."

  Caitlyn moaned and threw back her head as he squeezed the handle, just a tiny bit.

  "What is this Dumont to you? Other than your boss."

  What indeed. They were lovers, to be sure, and sometimes they hung out for fun. Mostly they worked, ten twelve hours a day for low pay and little recognition.

  "We're ... just friends,” she said, hoping the answer would put an end to the subject.

  Draco sent her into spasms of agony. The screams had to be carrying through the walls, down the halls and out into the noisy, teeming, third world street.

  "Nooo...” she cried, dragging the one syllable word out to ten at least, gut wrenching and pathetic.

  She swore he punished her poor nipple for hours, but when he let it free he told her she had endured all of thirty seconds. Horrified she looked down at herself for blood but saw none. He hadn't broken the skin.

  "Kiss my hand,” he commanded. “Thank me for teaching you your first lesson."

  Cait thrust her lips against the back of his hand. He was still holding the pliers in it. “Thank you,” she panted, covering both skin and metal with the most ardent and servile kisses possible.

  Draco smiled malevolently at her action-a reflex born of shock.

  "That is your first taste of training, my little slut. Soon you will find obedience completely automatic. I will achieve this by blurring the lines of pleasure and pain, eliminating utterly your own sense of control and power. When I am done you will be animal, not human."

  Cait's pussy exploded in response. It was as if the very outrage and offensiveness were some kind of gateway to her own uncharted sexual depths. “Does it make you feel better, Draco, torturing women?” she sought to fight back. “Does that make you feel like a bigger man?"

  The agent's lips trembled. Had she gone too far? She braced herself for the worst. But Draco merely beheld her, like she was a doll, an amusing little pet or toy. “As a matter of fact,” he replied smoothly. “It does."

  The response undid her, completely outwitting her defenses. “You're the animal, Draco, and you always will be."

  The words were brave, though they both knew he would have his way and she would give him everything he wanted.

  "Get up,” Draco undid the chains on her wrists. “Get on your hands and knees."

  For leverage, he took her by the nipple, the pliers serving as a cruel but effective tool of control.

  Caitlyn whimpered but dared not disobey. A man like this would have no compunction in tearing it off, or shooting her outright if she became too much of a liability.

  Cait assumed the vulnerable position. It had always been her favorite, especially when she couldn't see what the man was going to do to her. Now it made her feel twice the victim, twice the slave he was trying to make her into.

  "Head down,” he commanded from behind. “A slave's punishment is taken always with the head down."

  Caitlyn lowered her eyes to the bed. How many women before her had been used on this surface? Dozens? Hundreds? And of the total number, how many had been prisoners like her and how many had come here of their own free will?

  "As I said, one option is for me to leave you here, on consignment to the operators of the hotel. You'll fetch me a pretty penny for the next year or so, till you're used up. It would be only fitting, too, as I try to rebuild the business you so nearly destroyed. A rather apt form of justice, don't you think?"

  "Justice is a word you'll never understand,” she spit between gritted teeth.

  Oh, god, that was stupid, she told herself. Why did she have to open her big mouth?

  The room was silent for a few terrifying moments. Cait's heartbeat thundered in her brain. He'd gone to get something and he was taking his time about it.

  Come on, you motherfucker, get it over with.

  The air whistled before the stick slammed into her ass. She assumed it was a cane, probably bamboo.

  "That was a disrespectful thing to say, Agent Ross. I should like you to ask forgiveness."

  Caitlyn's head ripped against itself with the pain being signaled by her brutalized ass. She knew there'd be more of it if she didn't obey, but the words seemed to stick in her throat.

  A second blow followed predictably, this one knocking her forward onto her face.

  "Resume your position,” he said coldly. “Or I shall fill your ass with bullets instead."

  Caitlyn struggled back into place. Her arms were like rubber. The entire ordeal was catching up to her.

  "Have you something to say?” he wanted to know.

  "I am sorry,” croaked the defeated the girl. “For disrespecting you."

  Draco hit her again. “You will call me master."

  "Y-yes,” she moaned. “Master."

  "You may beg me to fuck your slave cunt,” he announced.


  Caitlyn thought of Luke, handsome, arrogant, mercurial Luke. What she wouldn't give now to be squirming under his touch, yielding to his macho ways with every ounce of her deeply female nature.

  "I ... I beg you to fuck me ... master."

  Draco mounted her beaten ass. She was wet and fragrant, much to her humiliation. “You want very much to come,” he told her. “But you will not without permission. You are owned, Agent Ross. Your body, your cunt belongs to me. Just as you wanted me owned by the state, I now possess you."

  Cait clawed at the sheets with her fingers. She did want to come. She needed to-all the more so for the sexy, dirty way he was talking, declaring this complete and thorough takeover of her body.

  Slowly, agonizingly, he moved in and out of her throbbing, gaping pussy. “Would you like to hear the other option, slave?"

  "Yes, master,” she whispered.

  "The alternative is to live with me, at my whim. As my toy, night and day."

  The words, the implication, cut through her belly like a hot knife. “Master,” she whimpered, the orgasm overtaking her. “I can't ... hold out."

  "You will do as I say, slut, or pay the price."

  "Y-yes, master."

  "You would be treated no better than a dog,” he continued. “Worse, actually, as a dog is not raped or beaten simply for pleasure."

  Cait groaned as he moved inside her, staking his claim. This was no fair; there was no way she could resist him in such circumstances.

  "I await your decision, Agent Ross."

  What a mockery her name and title seemed now.

  "I-I cannot decide, master."

  "You can and you will, slut. Either you are fucked to death here, in this room, sweating beneath the stinking bodies of a hundred men a day or you will come with me, under my terms."

  "I can't stay here, master."

  This much she knew.

  "Then acknowledge what you are. Tell me you are ready to crawl for me, to wear my collar, to cringe and beg, to sleep in a cage, to eat off the floor-whatever I desire."

  "I-I will do what you say,” she moaned. “I will ... follow you."

  It was all too much; so much domination, so much over-stimulation. She was open and pouring out juices, enough to attract a hundred men, a thousand even, horny and demanding.

  "I am going to come inside you, slave girl. You will not come with me."

  "Oh, master...” she groaned, her belly slit open by a molten sword. “Come inside me, I beg you."

  Draco grunted, slamming himself into her like she really was the possession he'd declared her to be. “This is where you belong,” he hissed. “You dared to defy me-to make a fool of me; look at where it brought you to."

  Cait hissed her dark approval. Naked, covered in sweat, stripped of badge and identity, facing a life a million times lower than that of a whore.

  Draco came fiercely-his hands twisted in her hair, his body pushing her into the mattress so she could hardly breathe. It was as brutal as any rape and yet she'd begged for it.

  His load was copious and hot. It occurred to her now he hadn't bothered with a condom. She would have no say in such matters, she imagined. Her womb and cunt were his. To do with as he pleased.

  "You'll be here a while,” he told her, climbing off without ceremony. “Be a good little fuck for the customers and make daddy happy."

  Cait turned painfully to her back. “But I chose to go with you,” she offered piteously.

  "That's right,” he grinned darkly. “And my will is to have your high brow, perfumed pussy learn a little humility first. Remember, girl, you're not doing this as a whore but as my slave. There's a world of difference."

  "Yes, master,” she replied weakly.

  "Lift your pussy into the air,” he commanded. “Hands under your ass, palm down. Present your sex to me."

  Caitlyn assumed the awkward position, thinking he intended to perform some sex act on her. What he had in mind, however, was more pain.

  The scream as he caned her crotch was blood curdling.

  "Resume position,” he ordered as she collapsed back down to the bed. “And get the tits higher this time."

  The flesh of her breasts marked quite well. She swore the flesh would be flayed from the bone. At the end of three, she was no longer capable of holding her ass off the bed.

  "The men will start coming in shortly, Special Agent Ross. And when each is done and comes and talks to me, I had better hear you were the best lay they have ever had in their entire lives. Do I make myself clear?"

  "Yes, master."

  "Put your fingers in your cunt. Orgasm for me."

  Caitlyn obeyed greedily, feeling like the horny little slut he was molding her to be.

  "Faster,” he commanded as she stroked her needful, explosive pussy.

  She found her clitoris, sending herself to the brink.

  "You have till the count of ten to finish,” he brandished the cane.

  Tremors shook her body. She must betray to him her most intimate self and on command, or else he would beat her, without compunction like a common animal. It was the most humiliating thought in the world. And the sexiest.

  By six she was spasming. I'm obeying my master, she thought to herself. I'm giving him my pleasure, the ownership of my sex.

  "Spread your legs wider. Don't hide it, Caitlyn."

  Heels dug into the bedspread, she gaped her thighs, dripping and fragrant, a living advertisement of submission.

  "You were born for this,” he decided. “Your whole life to now has been a lie. I will punish you for this as well."

  She rocked her pelvis, imagining a man, any man, Draco or one of his henchmen doing the deed. Confirming her as a fuck slut of the highest order. The orgasm felt endless and even when it did end, there were after shocks.

  Draco had no care to let her come down from the sudden ecstasy. He wanted her hands and he wanted them cuffed to the center rod of the bras headboard.

  "For inspiration,” he chained her back into place, arms overhead, helpless on her back.

  Whose inspiration? she wondered. And exactly what would the final product be?

  "Farewell for now, my pet.” His kiss to her forehead was more of a brand than a sign of affection. He was marking her before renting her out. Money in exchange for pussy. Her body a commodity on the open market.

  "Master, don't leave me,” she blurted, quite forgetting everything she'd been trained to believe about herself as a free and independent woman.

  "You will have plenty of chances to be with me,” he reassured her, that high, tilted grin back on his face.

  It was, she decided, a sign of evil. The symbol of his connection to something dark and hideous. Something that wanted her and, which, unfortunately, had already turned her world completely upside down.

  Chapter Three

  Caitlyn squatted over the drain of the bathtub. She'd been given a chance to pee, but not in the toilet. The Mestizo guard that Draco had left behind had ordered her to go this way, or not at all. He wanted to watch, that was it, his heavy body leaning against the wall, the shotgun over his shoulder like it was some kind of spectator sport, humiliating naked American females.

  "Legs wider,” the man said in his thick accent.

  Agent Ross opened herself. She'd lost track of the men who'd been inside her pussy by now. Sperm was dripping out, the freshest emissions glistening and pure, while older loads were already dried against her thighs. At least it wasn't boring she thought sardonically. So many different things had been done to her, even in the missionary position. A tall taxi driver had come inside her while burning her breast with a lit cigarette. A short, fat pig in a cheap, ill fitting suit had spit copiously in her mouth, making her swallow the liquor and bacon flavored swill. Still another, an officer of some kind with a blue uniform that he took off and folded neatly over a chair, had enjoyed cutting off her oxygen supply, his hand over her nose and mouth as he pounded her raw sex.

  He'd wait till she was nearly passed
out then let her gasp for air. When she was sufficiently recovered, he'd start in all over again. Caitlyn hoped he'd been pleased with her near death performance. According to Draco, the man whom she must now call her master, it was her job to satisfy.

  To be the best fuck any of these men had ever had, as he put it.

  And now she had to urinate in front of this pug nosed killer with the notched shotgun. No one had ever seen her do this, not any of her dominant boyfriends, and not even Luke. He used to taunt her sometimes with the idea and once after sex he hadn't let her get up to use the bathroom till she roused him all over again with a fresh blowjob.

  "Luke, I can't hold it back,” she'd whined.

  "Then piss on the bed,” was his answer.

  That turned her on and she'd licked for all she was worth, trying to earn the right to get up. In about a half hour, while she held her bladder fiercely, he squirted down her throat and let her go, dismissing her with a slap on the ass.

  But this was different. There was no tenderness here. Only degradation to be followed by more degradation. From the look of the man's hard dick in his pants, which he was now rubbing through the material, she could expect to be raped by this man, as well.

  He, too, would receive the best sex of his life from the brand new slave girl. It couldn't really be as it seemed, could it? Could it be true she'd fallen helplessly and irrevocably into the hands of her worst enemy destined to suffer the unique tortures only a female could know? And could it be she'd already begged him to have his way with her?

  And, god, why wouldn't the urine come out? She'd needed to go so bad in the bed but now, under his eyes, it was impossible. She didn't want to be an object to him, she didn't want to be a cheap whore to turn him on anymore. But what choice did she have? None, and that, paradoxically was arousing her.