It goes against my better judgment to talk to her, much less have her in this house. The decision is not mine, however. This is the work of Maelstrom. And as long as he is writing the checks that make my life possible here at Singing Wind, who am I to argue?

It is a very good life.

She is, young, perhaps late twenties, early thirties, blonde with perfect legs; feet on one end and ass on the other. The fact that her ass can only be considered a 9 ½ is only because I have never seen a true 10. Meeting her at the door to my study, I offer my arm to escort her in, the perfect gentleman. I purposely situate her body out of my line of sight. I want only to concentrate on her face. It is not a beautiful face. No, not beautiful, Beautiful is too bland an adjective. She is interesting, intelligent, and smooth. These adjectives work. . She is magnificent, utterly magnificent. Perhaps you think I exaggerate, but this is not the case. I have made a life study of women and fancy myself a connoisseur of feminine flesh and character. To put it in the vernacular of my trade, this is a five million dollar cunt. And this was the strangest recruitment interview I have ever conducted.

“…and he told me I could count on you to fully acclimate me to the facility.” She told me in a flat tone, delivered with even a flatter look on her face. She was sizing me up and at the same time, trying to maintain her dignity. Dignity is a strange thing to women. This one views me as powerful and I am. But she also thinks I’m the lowest form of life on the planet. Be nice to the lowlife, the pervert. How genteel. I may be, too, all that and more. I trade in flesh. I am the first link in the White Slave chain store. Now I find myself interviewing a genuine, card carrying member of the fourth estate, the press, the New York Times. She is sitting across my from me, in my study, wearing a short skit and no panties hoping to entice me. To be honest, I had no idea whether to laugh or laugh uncontrollably.

“My facility,” I intoned just as flatly. “This entire facility, as you put it, is mine. Its conception, construction, and implementation are the produce of my thoughts, dreams and desires. It exists because one man dared to dream a dream and is willing to pay the price of seeing his ideas bear fruit. And yes, you can count on me to fully acclimate you to Singing Winds.” I let these words, the latter delivered with sarcastic mirth and trail off to the proverbial pregnant pause, as I’d heard my aunt say, if not a million times, then close. Her flat look was still plastered to her face but it didn’t go all the way to her eyes, though. Her eyes were flinty. I would not swear to it, but it seemed her breathing had hiccupped, just a small catch. She glanced at her notebook as if she needed to refresh her memory, and I think that is true, in so far as the thread of her memory is unraveling.

“Exactly, where am I?” She asked.

“You are in The House of Singing Wind.” I replied, hinting in my voice that this was an illogical question.

“I mean, exactly where is the House of Singing Wind? Generally speaking, I don’t want to know the GPS coordinates or anything, just where I am.” Her confidence was returning, though not to full force.

“Generally speaking, on Earth. Great pains have been taken to assure my privacy, my client’s privacy and the privacy of my novitiates. You are an investigative reporter. Investigate. The precautions we have taken with you are the same that any client, the hired help, or the newly chosen experience. Blindfold, hood and blacked out windows on my jet. No contact with the crew. Timing the flight won’t help, either. The flight lasts between nine and eleven and three quarter hours.

“Singing Winds has been in operation for fourteen years. I do the recruiting, the scheduling, the transportation, and have personally directed the curriculum.” Curriculum, what a concept! I think the word “program” would be a more likely term, so I correct my self. “I like to think of it as the program.” At this, I see her visibly swallow hard. Her confidence is waning.

“The program,” she repeated, “exactly what does that involve?” I cannot stop the small smile that is tugging at the corner of my mouth. She is trying to be the reporter, always analytical. I wondered how long that was going to last. Perhaps forever, perhaps not past tomorrow.

“It’s a training program, pure and simple.” At this, I stood and clasped my hands behind my back and knew I was about to lecture. And she was completely in my view again. “We train concubines, servants, slaves, fuck toys, whores, sluts, or whatever you want to call uncompensated human beings that are owned, controlled, used, abused and held in servitude. We train them to understand the importance of serving another, completely, in any manner prescribed by the client. What the client desires, we provide. The actual crux of the matter is that each novice is here of their own volition.” I chuckled, “An all volunteer force, if you will, striving to be the best they can. They have the desire to serve, to be of service and to be compliant. We foster that desire, we mold that desire, and we hone it to a fine edge. That is the Program. What is it you desire? You’ve got your full story now, you can write your article and enlighten the world about Singing Wind. You have seen all you will see and told all you will be told.” I turned and started toward the door.

“No, wait!” She implored to me. “I want to have the full picture I want to know what it’s like to be in the House of Singing Wind, the experience, talk to the others. I want my story to be fact based on my own experience not perceptions. I’ve flown here, to God knows where and you’re ready to send me off? Maelstrom promised me a story and I’m here to get it and I mean to get it.” There was fire in her eyes now and the small smile was again licking at the corners of my mouth. She was close to saying what she needed to say, but not quite there. “I want to see what the novices go through, I want that.”

“No!” I almost barked, “That is not going to happen. Maelstrom does not own this place and I’m not his servant. I’m under no obligation to show you anything. I’ve told you what you wanted to know about this place. Go back to New York and make up what you’d like about Singing Wind. It exists, you’ve seen it.”

In almost a girlish tone she said what I’d known she’d say, eventually, I was taken completely by surprise by how quickly and timidly it came.

“I want to be trained.”

And that was that and I knew an article would never be written.

I walk over and stand before her. I know what my eyes look like boring into her and I am looking quite through her. I can taste the fear stirring in her soul. I can feel the intensity building in the muscles of my face. I can smell her very well now, her perfume, her perspiration, her cunt. I can feel my voice box tighten, ready to take on the raspy quality that comes with “The Voice”. I watch as her hands tighten their grips on the arms of her chair, her knuckles going white. I stop 3 paces from her chair.

“Kneel.” My voice is deep, the word perfectly annunciated.

She does not move, so I repeat: “Kneel.” My voice is even, almost slow. It is not a whisper, it is very conversational with enough conviction to let her know I am in no mood for games. Still, she does not move. As slowly as I can, I close the distance between us and as my right foot comes to rest next to my left, my right hand flashes from my side, a flick, fast as a fighter’s jab, I slap her. The sound reverberates in the stillness of my office. I think to myself that I will never forget this look in her eye. She is stunned, but she does not become hysterical. This time when I say “Kneel.” in the same, even tone of the last two commands, she slides smoothly to the floor into a kneeling position.

“Pleasure me.” Same slow, quiet, melodious tone. Again, she looks at me with an uncomprehending look. “Suck me, blow me, slurp the schlong, smooch the root, give Mr. Johnson a kiss, eat me, do the deep throat, puff the penis, bob the knob, you give me long time sucky-sucky, give me head. Do what your told, when you’re told. Are there any questions?” I slap her smartly again. “No? Well, that’s just fine.”

And deftly, her hands go to my fly to release my cock from confinement, her lips part and she envelopes the shaft into her warm, moist mouth. Her eyes close and, I’m sure her motivation is to get this over as quickly as possible. I make suggestions as to speed, tongue usage, teeth positioning, and she quickly learns to gently and devotedly bring me to climax. Dutifully, she swallows every drop of cum I pump into her mouth.

My orgasm does not stop her ministrations until I gently pushed her mouth from me, the sensation is too intense to deal with for long. I could swear that I see disappointment furrow her brow as I pull my manhood from her lips. Then, she looks up at me. I say nothing for a long moment. “When you are done with something, put it away,” I say. And dutifully, she does. I walk back to my desk and discreetly push a small button. Almost immediately, the door opens and an Asian woman with a dour look on her face walks in. “This is Soledad. You will call her Mistress Sollie. She is going to play show and tell with you. Show you what you need to see and tell you what you need to know. Sollie, this bitches name is Slut. Take very good care of her or we just might need a session with the barbed wire flogger.” Oh, the look on Slut’s face upon hearing this reminded me of the credit card commercial. Priceless. As fast as cat, Sollie places an iron collar on Slut’s neck and slips a leash in place and leads her away. Slut, too shocked and stunned to protest, crawls away on her hands and knees like a dutiful puppy.

Chapter 2 – Li

The morning is hot and muggy and there is little doubt there will be rain in the jungle before noon. From the tree line, we watch as people from the surrounding villes began to congregate in a clearing, a cul-de-sac, one road both in and out. There is little to do but wait and see what is going on. The Laotian-Thailand border is notorious as a portal for arms and supplies from China via Laos, across Thailand into Cambodia and on into Vietnam. What is most curious about this gathering is the predominance of men and children, mostly young women. To my eye, I am certain these are families. Tran Ngo, the team’s translator, sidles up to me to apprise me of the situation, for my ears only.

“These farmers, very poor. Come to sell children. Not come to meet to meet Cong. No guns, no rice.”

I was stunned. “Why?” I asked.
”No money, no food. Girl childs no be married, no money, no buffalo to give to husband’s family, boys too young to work to rice paddies. Farmers has many children, many mouth to feed. If no can work, no can feed. Better sell than kill or starve.” He said this with a matter of fact dignity. This was the oriental way: He would make no judgments. His flat look told me that I was in no position to judge, either.

When his report is finished, Tran evaporates as silent as a ghost just as a mid fifties vintage Cadillac pulls into the clearing. My fist shoots up in a tight fist next to my ear. My index finger goes strait up, waggles back and forth once and then I make the peace sign. None of the men in the team need any explanation for the signal: Freeze, take cues from me, safeties on. Also, the men know exactly who is driving the Caddy. It is Dirty Mary, the mamasan of a bar by the same name in downtown Bangkok.

“Looks like Mamasan’s on a mission to buy some new hookers.” Miller says. “Fresh meat and I’m three months from mid tour R&R.” He said this almost disgustedly. Virgins go for a premium bar fine and are very sought after on their first night working the second floor at Dirty Mary’s..

I flash “on me” and say out loud, “The smoking lamp is lit.” I pull a Lucky from my pocket and made a big production of lighting it, not caring if the clicking noise of my Zippo carries into the clearing and I begin walking toward the gathering crowd. The sight of five men carrying weapons sends a ripple of tension through the group, but they quickly realize that we are not Thai Federal Police and they relax. Dirty Mary recognizes Miller right away. I suppose spending the paychecks saved for five months in a week at a whorehouse can really popularize a person and she breaks out into a ever widening grin.

“You number one, GI, Millersan!” she cries out. That just about did it for me. I had the urge to butt stroke her upside her toothless head. I hate the way the gooks are always slipping into Japanese sounding Pigeon English; always calling us “Number One”. I am pretty sure that number is signified by the middle finger, but I ignore her.

I motion for Tran to get his ass over to me and point to a farmer standing next to a young girl. “Ask him how old she is,” I order. Tran did and the farmer went into a diatribe that lasted a lot longer than just stating a number.

“‘He say, she fifteen and very strong. Can pick grass out of rice patty long time, pick rice too. She good cook and make many baby, all boy.” The look on my face upset the farmer and filled him with fear. This seems to be Dirty Mary’s cur to begin to examine the girl. It reminded me of grizzled old ranchers examining breed stock before an auction at stockyards back, back in the world in Oklahoma. She fells the girl’s breasts through her rough blouse and pulls back her woven hat to pick at her hair and part her lips to look at her teeth, teeth that were perfect in spite of never having been seen by a dentist in their lifetime. Then, she began to dicker with the farmer. I looked a Tran and he said “She say she give 500 baht.” Twenty-five American dollars.

“Tell him I give one thousand,” and so the price war began. Back and forth the bidding goes until the figure reaches ten thousand baht. Finally, Dirty Mary gives me a disgusted look and spits at my feet. “You no come to my bar, no more, Lieutenantsan!”

“Not a problem,” I said, and spit right back at her feet. I paid the farmer who without another look at his daughter, turns and walks away, towards the woods and Laos. Mary makes an awful sound in my direction and Tran starts to translate. I hold up my hand him. “I know what she said, Tran.”

I walk away, also back toward the woods, to the Landing Zone where we’ll be picked up. Tran just looks at me and then says “You boo koo dinky dau!” “Yep, Tran, one crazy motherfucker, I just spent ten thousand nickels, five hundred bucks on a human being!”

I awake with a start and come instantly alert as I always do when I have this dream. You can take the boy out of the jungle, but you can’t take the jungle out of the boy. A soft hand caresses my cheek and I look into two limpid brown pools of light that are Li’s eyes. I think she knows what I am dreaming about but she never says a word, and snuggles closer to me, placing her tiny hand on my chest. I am awake and will be for the rest of the night. I patiently wait for her breathing return to a rhythmical steady beat before I leave the bed. I have a lot to think about, the least of which is how Li came to be in my life. The dream that was not always a dream sometimes disturbs me.

I leave my private wing of Singing Winds heading towards the staff cells; I want to talk to Sollie before I leave. Without knocking, I walk right in to her room. Even if there were a lock on her door, I knew it would be unlocked. I reach into my pocket for the Zippo that has been in my pocket for the last thirty years, minus the four months three years ago when it took a little vacation to Bradford, Pee Ay, back in the good ole’ You Ess of Ay for some of that good old lifetime warranty service. Made it the U.S. of A may not mean shit in Detroit, but Pennsylvania is a whole different ball game.

I could have turned on the lights, but when talking to Sollie, especially, I find candlelight soothing. I open the lid of the lighter slowly and quietly and light a taper on her bed table and this does not wake her. On the other side of her bed, leaning against the wall I make out a shape. Picking up the candle, I move to the other side of the bed and can’t help but smile. No wonder Sollie doesn’t wake up seems she was busy far into the night.

Leaning against the wall is a rough cross with a limp body tied to it. The eyes are closed and I can see the eyes rapidly moving in REM dream-sleep. Ahh, the dreams of Slut; these are dreams that could interest me. Softly I touch her lips and an involuntary shiver courses down her body but she does not wake. She is beautiful, her breasts are full and pendulous, with a light sheen of perspiration that glistens in the candlelight. I can see that she is wearing a chastity devise. I don’t need to guess that her cunt and ass are filled and well filled at that. The slickness on her thighs also says that I don’t have to guess that it might be KY jelly. I return to the far side of the bed, lean down and give Sollie’s cheeks several light taps. Her eyes pop open and move side to side rapidly, unfocused. Finally, her eyes settle on my face and she recognizes me. She quietly slips out of bed and onto her knees. I sit on her bed feeling the warmth of her body still in the sheets. She knee walks forward and settles between my thighs, Idly I begin to stroke her black hair as she looks into my eyes with a shy smile that lights her entire face.

“Rough night?” I ask. Her smile broadens and just as suddenly she is serious. “Are you sure this one should be here?” She asks softly, nodding toward Slut. “There’s a lot of spirit in her. I’m not sure if she’s taking training because she wants it or because it gets her what she wants.” I knew exactly what she meant. “Sollie,” I said, “Don’t question her motives, and just train her to the best of your, and her, abilities.” I think she wanted to talk more about this but she knew the discussion was over. It is now time to listen to me.

“I’m leaving this morning; I’m going to see Maelstrom about this one and run some other errands. Don’t try too hard to break this one. And be extremely careful, I don’t know yet if this is someone’s property. Not that I really care, but if she belongs to Malestrom then it’s going to cost him the same she would fetch at auction to training her. Just in case, leave something out because Maelstrom thinks he can finish a slave’s training regimen.” We smiled at each other at this. “If that’s the case, I think this one might be at Singing Wind for a very long time,” I added and Sollie nodds in agreement.

I crane my head back as if to look at the ceiling and begin to rotate my head, eyes closed, feeling the gravel in my neck and spine grate bone to bone as I try to relax. I feel Sollie’s hand go into the fly in my silk pajamas and slip inside. I looked down at her and lightly grab her wrist to stop her. “Li’s already taken care of that,” I said. Rolling over on my side, I stretch out on Sollie’s bed. I am awake and know I won’t fall back asleep, but I am exhausted, the way I always feel after the dream. Sollie crouches at the end of the bed and begins to massage my feet. I close my eyes and give into the sensation she is sending up my sciatic nerve that culminates in a tingling sensation just behind my right ear. I roll onto my back and I feel her take my toes between her warm, moist lips, sucking my toes, pulling them between her lips as if they were tiny cocks. She runs her tongue between my toes and then licks up their lengths. She takes all five on each foot into her mouth at once and runs her tongue around each one. She then began to lick the entire foot with deliberate, long, tongue strokes. I raise my head and look down at her, her features softened by the glow of the candle, her face serene in her devotion to the worship of my feet. I lay back, closed my eyes and completely lose myself in her ministrations. She works on, sensually and methodically, into the night.

I wake, again, to light streaming through the high window of Sollie’s cell. I am in her bed, covered up, feeling snuggly warm. Slut is not tied to the cross any longer and I am quite alone in Sollie’s room. I throw back the covers and get to my feet, stretching broadly. I feel totally refreshed and alert, not totally unlike the mornings I awoke in the jungle a million years ago: Totally ready for any contingency. Briskly, I leave the room and head back to my quarters. Have to get a move on. Today, I’m to be a traveling man.

Chapter 3 – Changelings

Gently, Sollie tucks her master into her bed as the graying sky of morning was brightening her cell enough to see with out a light. Slut, tied to her cross is still sleeping the sleep of the dead. Sollie can see a ropy line of spittle falling from the corner of Slut’s mouth dribbling onto her left breast and this makes her smile. Picking a pair of soiled panties from the hamper next to her dresser, she retrieves a roll of duct tape from the bottom drawer. Moving silently to the sleeping form tied to the cross, she tears off half a foot and sticks it to the lower edge of the cross piece. She reaches out and pinches Slut’s nostrils causing her mouth to open and stuffs the balled up the panties deeply into Slut’s mouth and quickly secures her mouth with the tape.

Slut’s eyes flash open almost immediately wondering why this Filipino bitch would not leave her alone. The gag in her mouth did not allow for any noise to escape her. Solly moved close to her ear and spoke softly,

“Look in my bed.”

Slut did as she was told surprised to see the man she had met only the day before, the one who had sent her into hell with this bitch from hell who has seemingly worked her over the entire night. Just as quickly, she realizes that Mistress Sollie has not been working on her all night; she has been asleep standing tied to the cross. Her eyes go back to Mistress Solly. What surprised most is that that is exactly how she is thinking about this Asian woman: Mistress Sollie.

“Make one sound that wakes him up and your whole day will be irreversibly fucked up in the first 30 seconds you are awake.”

Slut thinks to herself that the day is already pretty much fucked up waking up tied to a cross, with a pair of panties taped in your mouth, wearing a chastity belt with a dildo up your ass and cunt wearing only what must be really nice bruises on her ass and tits being ordered around by what her brother (who’d done a tour in the Marines) would call a LBRPFM’s, which is short for Little Brown Rice Powered Fucking Machines. No, she thinks, days do not come any more fucked than this. “Understand?” Solly barks softly.

Slut nodded dumbly.

Taking a leash from a hook on the wall, Solly clipps it deftly to the collar around Slut’s neck and unties first her ankles and then her wrists. As she is lowered to the floor her shoulder joints make a loud popping sound. They are numb and leaden. Sollie gives Slut a hard look. “You know what position you are to be in when you are on the leash,” she hissed.

Slut dropped to all fours and is promptly and unceremoniously led out of the cell and into the morning light. Sollie keeps her moving at a rapid pace and Slut finds she can not keep up and quickly adjusts by coming up off her knees and onto the balls of her feet moving in a crab like fashion. Awkward as this was, she finds that she can now keep up with her Mistress. Abruptly, Sollie stops. Intent on keeping her balance, Slut does not realize this until the leash became taut and spills her on her face.

“Pay attention!” Sollie snaps. She grabs Slut’s collar and jerks her to her knees. Roughly, she rips the duct tape that covering her mouth and Slut can not stifle a cry and involuntarily a hand goes to her mouth to rub her lips. Her breath is coming in ragged gulps as she tries to catch her breath and spit the panties from her mouth. Slut has been in constant torment since leaving the study yesterday and Mistress Sollie has given her little respite since coming into her charge. The sleep she’d had on the cross had been poor, at best and fatigue was now her constant companion.

“We are now going into breakfast. I know you haven’t eaten since yesterday, but don’t bolt your food. Eat what you are given and don’t you dare ask for more. As a matter of principle, don’t talk at all. That is unless being tutored in manner is what you want from me, then, well, just piss me off.” Sollie gives Slut a sardonic and wryly sadistic smile at this while looking down at the wretched form of Slut, kneeling in the sandy grass with puffy eyes and raw knees, generally looking pitiful.

Slut thinks she wants to do more than just piss Mistress Solly off. She wants to grab a handful of hair and jerk her to the ground and give her a taste of her own medicine, but something tells her this was not even a remotely good idea. These thoughts, against her will, telegraph to her face. Sollie smiles, reached out and twists her left nipple cruelly saying, “You better think again. That good idea you are thinking right now may not be such a good idea in reality.” And Slut blushes bright red and tears began to course down her face. How in the name of fuck can she know what she is thinking?

Sollie turns and with hard tug on the leash, Slut begins to follow at a slower pace. They enter a building through a large doorway and she is led to a low bench before a long table and is given the order to stand. To her amazement, as she looks around the room, she is surprised to find the room filled with at least ten long tables and each has at least a dozen women standing just as she is. On the table before each place is a bowl of what can be best described as mush. A small bell rings and the women, in mass, sit in their respective places. Sollie has to give a small jab into Slut’s back to get her to follow suit. When she sits, the dildo from chastity device in her ass is noticeably uncomfortable and she is shocked to realize that her bodily needs are becoming pressing: She has to pee very badly. She sees that all the women have lowered their faces into the bowls and are eating. Sollie grabbed a handful of Slut’s hair and shoves her face into the bowl and she began to lap at the contents so as not to drown. Sollie says in a low voice “I’ll see you tomorrow, behave.” And she is gone. Slut does not see Mistress Solly for the next eighteen hours.

* * *

Slut is amazed that the contents of the bowl tastes delicious and she begins to eat greedily. She raises her eyes enough to see the girl across from her looking at her, her face and nose sticky and covered with the creamy mush.

“It’s breadfruit,” the girl whispers. No sooner than this is said, a hand pushes the girl’s face back into the bowl roughly.

“You want to eat or you at high tea this morning? Shoot the shit on your own time!”

Looking up, Slut sees a very large woman standing behind the girl holding her face in the bowl and then grabs a handful of hair and lifts her face from it bringing her to an upright position. The girl, her face now covered completely with her breakfast, opens her soft brown eyes and smiles softly at Slut.

“Thank you mistress for correcting this wayward bitch,” she says in an even voice. The woman only grunts and gives the girl’s head a shove. The girl only smils again and resumed eating.

She points a riding crop at Slut and barks, “Get your face back in that bowl if you know what’s good for you,” and then walks on.

Trying to take in as much of the scene as possible, Slut does not finish her meal before the small bell rings and once again, in unison, the women all rise. She can only look back at her unfinished meal and frown. The women deftly step back over the benches and reached their hands out to either side to clasp the hands of the women to either side. Slut did like wise. The women on her side of the table executed a left face, while those opposite performed a right face maneuver and the women file out two abreast for where Slut knows not.

* * *

Waking up in Sollie’s bed, I leisurely stretch out before leaving her cell and walk toward the beach rather than my quarters. Once on the beach, I contort my body with exercise to stretch out my leg and back muscles before I start out at an easy gait. Quickly tiring in the loose, dry sand, I ease down past the tide line on to the hard, wet packed sand and pick up the pace. I watch for my markers and in just over 13 minutes I punch out two and half miles thinking about nothing other than the blue in blue of the South China Sea off to my left. The hot, humid morning has me drenched in sweat and as I slow to a cooling walk, I can smell Sollie on me and that, perhaps, is also tinted with the smell of Slut.

Back at my quarters, I shower and change into a freshly pressed white Panama suit. Li has laid my clothes neatly out on the valet before the triple tailor’s mirrors and I can not help but admire the figure I cut. I am not a vain man, in the least, but I am amazed at how a tailored suit makes a man look. I think of Charles Laughton or Sidney Toler, the actor who played Charlie Chan and how good they always looked in a Panama suit, I never thought I would look so good. Knowing that Li has never seen a Charlie Chan movie or has any clue as to whom Charles Laughton might be, I am struck by her sense of style.

Just out the door my quarters, I found a jeep waiting on the cobblestone drive. In the driver’s seat is a young blonde woman and sitting in the rear seat is a dark, mysterious Hindu goddess. She is dressed in a cream silk blouse and dark A line skirt. The driver is naked save for a collar with a silver tag engraved ‘Cocksucker’. Not a word is spoken as I get into the front seat as the driver puts the jeep in gear and smoothly speeds out of the drive to the road leading toward the airfield. The trip takes less than 5 minutes even though the car never reaches a speed above 15 miles per hour. As the field comes into view, I can see the Gulfstream sitting on the tarmac as a lone figure completes a walk-around inspection as the tail strobe light flashes in the gathering sunlight of morning. I know instinctively that the inspector is Tommy Milkman, a bright, handsome lad, who you might mistake for preppy if it weren’t for his deep southern drawl, a true Son of Georgia. Tommy had learned to fly in the Air Force, flying lumbering cargo planes. He had longed to slip the surly bounds of Earth in the cockpit of an F-16, but had only qualified to fly the Military’s version of the Douglas DC-9, great training if your dream was to fly forever and ever for an airline, but that really sucked if you had the need for speed and Tommy had the need for speed very bad.

In the cockpit was J.D. McAlester. Mac had been my roommate at the Boat School, the Naval Academy, and captain of the crew team. He had been an Aerospace major, while I am a mere English major. He had dreamed of the sky since his childhood. From the time he was ten, every thought, every action was designed to get him into the cockpits of jets. And it had worked. F-4 Phantoms in Vietnam, almost becoming an ace and later he flew F-14A Tomcats. However, the Tomcat had bitten. In a training exercise, the immense weight of the aircraft over powered by a pair of Pratt and Whitney TF 30’s had managed to flat spin. By the time recovery of the aircraft had quit being an academic probability and had became a firm impossibility, the decision to eject had already been made by the Naval Flight Officer, a man who J.D. will only speak of by his call sign, Zippo. Coming out of the cockpit with the force and speed of a rocket strapped to their asses, the men were accelerated by ten gravities of thrust. Zippo’s body was never recovered while J.D.’s Martin-Baker ejection seat worked as advertised to float him into the Mediterranean Sea safely. He was cleared by the Board of Inquiry but, never the less, the injuries he suffered that day prevented him from ever sitting in the driver’s seat of a jet aircraft again, that is, until I bought him this Gulfstream, with a severe warning that eternity would be a nightmare of epic proportions if he killed me in the goddamn thing. Truth was, he was my best friend: If we died together, we’d toast the devil with his own scotch and spit in his eye.

Pulling along side the aircraft, Cocksucker brought the jeep to a smooth stop. I gave the driver’s left nipple a pinch and a tug and said with a smile, “Thank you, Cocksucker.”

“The pleasure is mine, Milord.” She says with a sweet smile, enjoying the manipulation of her nipple a little too much.

As the other passenger unloads my traveling case along with two suitcases of her own and lugs them toward the plane, I go strait over to Tommy waiting by the cargo hatch and exchange pleasantries as we wait for the girl to bring the luggage. Setting the three cases on the ground near the plane, she gracefully drops to her knees to bend forward to kiss Tommy’s shoes. I stifled a laugh as this is one of those things that is an embarrassment to Tommy and he can only look at me sheepishly.

“Get aboard,” I tell her and lightly touch her forehead as she rises to her feet.

“Where to Boss?” He is clearly relieved that the girl is leaving to board the aircraft.

“Hong Kong, Miss Singh has a date at an auction this evening at the Hilton and then we’re all going to get a massive steak and really drunk at Ned Kelly’s Last Stand on the Kowloon side. J.D.’s buying.”

“Does he know that?”

“Not yet,” I smiled, “you can break that part to him.”

And with that, I board the plane to take my seat.

Chapter 4 – An interlude between worlds

Tommy came through the cabin door after securing the fuselage compartments, folded the stairway and started to close the hatch behind him. Miss Singh came up behind him and lightly touched his arm. He turns and almost immediately the blush he had had outside on the tarmac was back. She can see it and his eyes, eyes that said he was a man unaccustomed to being in close proximity of such a beautiful woman, one that responds in a way that no woman in Tommy’s world ever responds. I watch as his Adams apple bobs in a very long swallow. She looks directly into his light blue eyes with her soft doe eyes.

“I will secure the door,” she says softly, so softly that in the distance between us, two seats, I can only make out the word door. Tommy slowly nods and turns and goes into the cockpit and gently closes the privacy curtain behind him. I imagine that he has sat down in the co-pilot’s chair rather quickly. Seeing him with a hard on would keep J.D. in stitches for months. Tommy does not care for the world on the other side of the island and I respect that. While he respects what it is I have built here and why I do it, it is something that he keeps a respectful distance from.

Miss Singh has been known for the last two years as Knob Bobber. Before that, she was known as Amahdee and twelve hours from now she will be known, as Linda, The Pretty One, for the rest of her life. She now stands at the door for a long time looking out taking in the scene and breathing in the warm, tropical air deeply. She makes no sound. The auxiliary power unit comes on line and the sound level rises noticeably and the cabin lights momentarily flicker. The unit begins to spool up as high pressure air makes it way to the compressor sections of the plane’s engines. At this, Miss Singh tugs on the tether to close the door and locks the handle in place. When she turns, she is crying. The sobs deep inside her chest are being restrained, but not very well. The tears, large and free flowing course down her cheeks streaking her makeup. Without looking at me, she takes her seat and buckles herself in. The jet turns at idle speed for about two minutes, taxies to the end of the runway, turns and accelerates in one fluid maneuver. Three minutes after engines start, we are in the air and “feet wet”, over the water. Miss Singh’s sobbing does not abate and her tears seem ceaseless.

I reached over and touch her arm. Her eyes meet mine. Her tears freshen.

“I cannot go, I am not ready,” she says.

“Yes,” I say simply. And with tears streaming unashamedly down her face, she laughs. A deep laugh, a normal, funny laugh, as if hearing a joke.

“Yes, I’m not ready or yes, I’m not?”

“Pick one,” I smile, “because what I think is of no import. It’s what you think that counts. Remember your first days here? Think about then, how badly you wanted this day to come.”

“First days? How about the better part of the first year! I wanted to be taught to be something other than me. How could I know that what I needed was to be taught to be treated like property? How would I know that I would love that? No, I don’t think I’m ready. I know I am not ready.” She said the last with conviction.

“You’re ready. Open the window shade and take a look.”

I touch the key to the intercom and bark “J.D., turn around. Give the island a flyby then do it again at 90 degrees.” I meant for it to sound like a request but it sounded more like an order.

He did just as I’d asked. We cruise the island about a mile off at just over a thousand feet up. I watch as Miss Singh cranes her neck to see the island come into view, watch it pass, and crane her neck again to see it pass behind us. After a long slow turn, the island comes into view again and she does the same again. Some time after it has passed from her view, forever, she closes the shade and turns to me. The tears are back and I soften.

“You can live your old life until we land.”

With that, she stands and slowly slides down the zipper of the skirt and lets it fall. She carefully unbuttons her blouse, removes it, and carefully folds her clothes so not to wrinkle them. She then unhooks her bra and slips from it and stands naked before me. She is not wearing any panties. From my jacket pocket, I take out a collar with a small silver tag that reads “Knob Bobber”. She kneels before me so that I can place it back on her neck and I am greeted with the sweetest smile I have ever seen.

* * *

Slut and the others silently leave the dining hall two abreast into the morning sunshine. The sound of an airplane draws her eyes skyward and she watches the small jet aircraft pass from left to right. She wanted to stop and watch it but when she slowed down the woman behind her ran into her and dropped her mentally back into reality. She knows it is the same plane that she had boarded in Honolulu, what, two, three days ago? She is dawdling and can tell the girl behind her is growing impatient with her as she is squeezing her hand sharply.

She fells like a schoolgirl again, walking in line with other girls, holding hands front to back, going to the lavatory in the library building at her elementary school, Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrow. As she looks as far up the line as she can, she sees that they all wear the same uniform. A lack of uniform actually, but uniform all the same. Each woman wears a polished black collar adorned with a silver tag and four inch black stiletto pumps. She is the only one different in the fact she is the only one wearing a chastity belt. This fact brings a new thought. Is this because she is new or is this because the belt signifies dunce?

She takes in her surroundings and is surprised at the campus like atmosphere. The courtyard is a quadrangle, surrounded by 6 buildings that she can see with an unknown number behind her and she dares not to turn to count buildings. Further, she cannot see anyone who appears to be in charge. They are crossing the quad two abreast, marching in step the only noise is the clicking of their heels reverberating off the surrounding buildings in unison. This made her remember Sister Rose, who, while strict, had made school somewhat fun. Sr. Rose had taught the girls to hum the theme song from the Adams’ Family Show” in their heads to help them stay in perfect step with a proud march. And just as suddenly she realized that tune was playing in her head and she was walking in perfect harmonious step with what she guessed to be fifty women.

The last two girls at the rear in each column suddenly dropped the hands of the girls in front and sprinted to the front of the formation to open and hold the doors of the building directly in front of them. The column of two marched directly into the building with out missing a beat, proud and strong. Just as the last of the women passed the portal, the door guards quickly closed the doors and the formation broke up in to a cacophony of sound as the formation dissolved and every one in the group relaxed.

Slut stands there in disbelief as the women begin to chat, sit on the floor and take off their stilettos and massage their feet and calves. The girl next to her, who is still wearing the breadfruit mush on her face, points at Slut’s chastity belt and says “Want some help getting that thing off?”

“I don’t know if I’m allowed.” She says dumbfounded.

The girl just smiles. “Yes, you are. It’s bath time and for the next six hours nobody will tell you what to do….” She trails off and reaches for the silver tag on Slut’s collar and reads the inscription. “…Slut,” she finishes. “This is our time and my name is Allpussy.” She sticks out her hand and with a growing smile shakes Slut’s hand.

She then spins Slut around and begins to work on the buckles of the chastity belt.

“So, you got orientation from Sollie? Oh, I know that because she has her initials

tooled into this thing. I hate this fucking thing.”

As the strap that runs between her legs falls forward, it relieves the pressure on the dildos that impale her. Allpussy reaches around from behind and plucks the dildo from her pussy and holds it up before her face. It is made from polished ebony wood and despite of the fact she has probably worn it for over eight hours, it glistens with moisture from her cunt. Allpussy leans close to her ear to speak to her in a low tone of voice.

“If one of these comes out of any of your holes in Mistress Sollie’s presence, you’d best take it in that pretty little mouth of yours and lick clean as Buddha’s cock. She loves to see them worshipped.” Allpussy then brushes the wooden cock across Slut’s lips. Slut gets the idea and opens her lips and takes the object into her mouth and begins to lovingly clean it. Before she could get fully into the act, Allpussy spins her around again and pulls her close so that they are cunt to cunt. The chastity belt drops to the floor, and reaches around and pulls the second dildo from Slut’s ass. Holding it next their faces, Slut turns to look at it. Allpussy says, “This one too!” Before Slut can do anything, Allpussy tosses the dildo from her ass over her shoulder and wraps her arms around Slut’s neck in an intimate embrace. “Give me a kiss,” she smiles, “I just saved you from a future ass whipping, though you might get one anyway for already knowing what to do. She’s pretty anal retentive that way.” With that, she pulls Slut into a deep, deep kiss.

Abruptly, Allpussy breaks the kiss and takes Sluts hand pull her into a short tiled hallway ending at a wall that seemingly goes nowhere. Just before the end, however, she sees two openings on each side that open into a larger cavernous room with whirlpool baths dotting the tiled deck and beyond those, an Olympic sized swimming pool. On the other side of the pool there are row upon row of massage tables, some already being used as slave girl works on slave girl while in the whirlpools, slave bathes slave. Two slave girls approach them each takes Slut and Allpussy in different directions. Slut reads the tag that tells her new companions name is Fuckface and she is leading her toward one of the baths. Gently, she assists her into the warm, bubbling water, places her head in the cushioned notch at the end and drapes her hair behind her.

Not a word is spoken as Fuckface picks up a brush and starts to brush out Slut’s hair, gently, lovingly. Slut raises her eyes and tilts her head to look at the girl, upside down. The face is serene, as if this girl were lost in a fantasy, perhaps brushing the hair of some long forgotten doll. Slut breaks the silence.

“What’s your name?”

“Fuckface,” the girl says touching her tag.

“No, I mean your real name.”

The girl lets out a small sigh and then the hint of a smile sneaks onto the corners of her lips. “Slut,” she says, “that is my real name. Whatever you called your self before, whatever I called myself before, well, those people don’t exist anymore. I mean, did you really like the person you were before? If that person is still in you and still has a name, I don’t want to know it. If you were happy before you got this name, then, why are you here?”

She wanted to say to get a story, but, she didn’t. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t know what to say. Certainly, she was surprised. Malestrom had told her everyone here in training was here of their own free will. Hell, she’d had been forced to ask, no beg, for the privilege to entering this compound. However, compound didn’t sound right. After all, there were no fences, no guard towers and she hadn’t even seen a lock on a single door.

She needed to think on this, just like she would need to think about the similarities she was beginning to feel with her younger days at Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrows, remembering the nuns, the order, the discipline and the symmetry.

What surprised her most, however, was the peace of acceptance she was beginning to feel. At first, she had thought perhaps that too much was happening too quickly and then she thought that that wasn’t it, either. It was getting a story. Originally, she thought she could and she would endure anything for a story. And then the truth finally comes to her: The story is getting her. She looks back at Fuckface. “Thank you.” She says simply and closes her eyes. In Manhattan, a spa day of this magnitude would run close to a thousand bucks. She decides to just enjoy it and worry about tomorrow tomorrow.

As I herd her words, I nodded in agreement. My lesbian lover had talked over and over about modifying me, starting with my hair.

“I want you to be bald.” She had said on so many occasions, “I love the thought of you walking down the street with me, with no hair on your head, people staring at you because you look so different, wondering why a woman would have no hair.”

“Please.” She said again.

I lifted the scissors and cut through my pony tail and handed it to her. Tears were in her eyes.

“Thank you so much! Please let me go all the way.”

Now I had given in to losing the length of my hair I was not that bothered about the rest.

“You can do it.”

She kissed me and jumped up, went and fetched a razor and plugged it in the wall.

“Get on your knees!” She said excitedly.

I knelt down, my eyes stinging with tears that she was too excited to notice, but as I bowed my head and watched the floor knowing I would see my hair falling away, I felt a swelling in my clitoris. I reached down to rub it.

“No!” She said sharply, “You know you’re not supposed to play with it – remember what the doctor said!”

I took my hand away despite the way it was swelling and the wetness was running out. She was right – last time I had rubbed my clit it had swollen up for three days and throbbed unbearably. The doctor blamed it on over use of pumps and vibrators and I had been told this had led to the death of some of my clitoral tissue – it could not fill up the way it used to, it caused me pain now. The only way I could get aroused and cum clitorally was for my clit to get swollen and wait until I was close and have my lover brutally flick it several times, or to use a heavy duty vibrator which damaged even more tissue and left me feeling numb. I had been asked how I felt about possibly having the clitoris removed but the thought had filled me with horror, it seemed so barbaric to have my clit cut out! The doctor had told me that many women chose to have surgery to later their genitals for cosmetic or medical reasons and in those circumstances it was not thought of as mutilation. My lover had openly masturbated over the idea when I came home, she was black and from a country where many of her relatives had been circumcised, although she had left before she was old enough, and to this day often commented that she wised she had been ‘cleansed’ like her sisters and cousins. Sometimes she applied anaesthetic cream first to my clit and then to her own so we both went numb, then she would say,’ the circumciser has been to call…we have no clitorises, just a lovely clean scar, nice and neat…”

And I thought of this as I knelt down and my lover shaved my head. She buzzed me slowly; shearing it off slowly, then she took a bar of soap, wet it and rubbed it on my head. She took two new razors and took the safety off the first one.

“I’ll shave one side of your head with this and the other with the other razor – to make you soooo smooth!”

I felt the scrape, scrape, scrape, she pressed hard, thoroughly, when she had finished, she took a steaming hot towel and swiped it over my shining dome of a scalp, it stung and she laughed.

“Now you are truly shaven!” She exclaimed.

She rand her hands over my slippery scalp.

“Pretty pretty girl!” She exclaimed.

Then she looked in the mirror at the black stubble that grew on her own head.

“I shall shave bare also.”

I watched as she took a clean razor, wet it under the tap and simply scraped away all trace of hair from her head. She did not bother with soap, just shaved it right off there and then. Her head glowed when she finished and she put her arm around me and we looked in the mirror together.

“You look beautiful.” She told me, “And I want you to wear no hat when we go for your doctor’s visit tomorrow.”

I was dreading the doctors visit because the last time my useless clit had been examined it had caused me pain, it had been lifted free of its hood, griped by small forceps, squeezed, tugged, eve twisted, I had endured a skin sample being scraped off its tip with a wooden spatula and had it suctioned and tweaked, all to see how I responded and how much blood flowed to it. I had gone through all this naked with my legs pinned wide part and it was done by a doctor, an assisting nurse and a third assisting medical student who was very keen to hear how ‘abuse’ of the organ had caused tissue death. This examination was to see if I had the option of regular use of a numbing cream to prevent pain during arousal. I was also to have my clit injected and then scanned to see how many blood vessels still worked. I saw no point in any of this, my clit did not work properly any more and it was all so painful and humiliating.

My lover took a box of body paints and a brush from the cupboard. She began to mix some henna dye.

“I would like us to paint our scalps…I will give you ancient tribal markings on your bare head, and paint mine also. Then I will play with that clit of yours until it can be milked of an orgasm.”

I was surprised she wanted to after telling me not to touch it, but she took the thin brush and began to paint a swirling pattern onto my newly shaven head. It was henna and I knew they dye would last a while and not wash off, but when I looked in the mirror and saw the pattern pained on my shaven head, I had to admit it was beautiful. Then she painted her own head. While it dried she parted my legs and lapped at my cunt. She sucked my clit so hard the sucking noise filled the bathroom, pleasure filled the organ but then pain throbbed as she let go.

“We shall have fun tomorrow at the doctors.” She told me, looking up from my reddened hairless cuntlips, “I am having an examination also. I have paid for the doctor to treat us both together in the same room – we can watch each other!”

“What are you going for?” I asked her.

She smiled broadly.

“A routine procedure.” She told me.

Then her hand descended between my legs and she flicked my clit hard, battering it twice more with brutal force and the organ wobbled and I came with a loud cry.

We went to the doctors surgery at six thirty in the evening, we were the last two appointments and when the receptionist called out names she called them together. We walked down the corridor, my lover leading the way, into a white doctors room with two examination couches, the leg rests were in position and two nurses were attending, with a trolley covered by a towel and both were wearing masks and gloves.

I noticed the doctor and the nurses were black like my lover, she smiled and greeted us, then the doctor spoke pleasantly to my lover in their native language that I did not understand. As they laughed together, the doctor looked at me and I laughed also.

“You will both remove all clothing. I need you naked and on table” She said in broken English, “I have to examine the pubic region and open up for close look.”

My lover exchanged a look with me and smiled.

“We will be facing each other!” She exclaimed, “We can watch what happens to our pussies!”

She eagerly stripped off her clothes, hopped up on the couch and slung her legs into the leg rests. One of the masked nurses promptly spread her wider and swiped her bald cunt with a bottle of disinfectant. She groaned but managed to smile. The nurse held up the catheter and said something to her in her own language, she nodded and braced herself, as the tube slid in her pee hole she screwed up her eyes and her toes at the same time but took another breath and composed herself.

The doctor handed me two pills and a cup of water.

“Swallow please. It will relax you.” I obeyed, still fascinated by my lover’s medical ordeal that she seemed to be enjoying – and so was I, although my clit was swelling uncomfortably, I was getting very wet and juicy. I stripped off and lay back on my own table, my legs were fixed wide apart, my ankles strapped and tight straps placed around my thighs. I noticed the same was being done to my lover but I was feeling chilled and relaxed and just wanted to enjoy it. Then the doctor leaned over e and smiled.

“Nice and relax, yes?”

I nodded. The doctor opened my slit and moved her finger up and down, making my clit move.

“AAA aaaaHH!!”

“You are very prominent.” She remarked, “Big clitoris. No surprise it give you such trouble.”

Se tipped a bottle of clear liquid between my legs it stung and I groaned again, but the area was wiped with a towel promptly. The doctor spoke again.

“I have to open the labia majoria.”

I nodded feeling ashamed that I was suffering juice running out in front of my lover and the medical staff.

The tallest nurse patted my bald head.

“You share the occasion with your lady by tribal marking and shaving of the head! I have never seen a white woman have shave for the occasion!”

The doctor put on her mask and glanced to my lover as she picked up my catheter.

“You buy her wig tomorrow? Western lady need wig on head?”

I cringed a little but managed to smile as the doctor and nurses and my lover, who replied in foreign tongue, laughed together.

“Hold still.” The doctor ordered and slid the tube in my urethra.

“OOOOWch!!”

I relaxed as the pain subsided. Now me and my lover were restrained and catheterised, I looked over at her and my lover smiled as she watched her pee travel down the tube. Then she rested, relaxing as she looked up at the ceiling.

The doctor pinched my nipples. I smiled and gave a sigh. She dipped a finger in my vagina, it came out covered in fluid and she held it up to show the two nurses.

“She likes!” She exclaimed, “Bald white lady like!”

“She always like!” My black lover replied.

The doctor said something in foreign language and gestured between my open legs and the nurses chuckled.

“She will like afterwards – I hope!” Said my lover.

A nurse leaned over me and braced my thighs.

The doctor held up a hypodermic needle.

I looked at my lover and she did not smile, just nodded.

“For the best, my lover.” She stated coldly, “For the best!”

I tensed.

“Noooo!”I screamed, “Leave my cunt alone!! NO! No, no no…”

The nurse clamped my mouth open and stuffed in a double metal bar, it pressed down and gripped and immobilised my tongue. She fastened the strap at the back of my head.

“MMMMmmmmmmmmffff…aaaaaa…ammmmmmaaaafff..” I was gagged, helpless.

“Be calm.” The doctor said, and plunged the needle into my clitoris. I sunk deep, scratching and burning all the way. As she pulled the needle out I felt as if my clit was being dragged with it.

I thrashed my head from side to side; tears ran from my eyes as I clenched my fists. I felt my bowel spasm in fear and a small, hot lump of shit slithered out. The nurse retrieved it with a paper towel, and then wiped my anus clean with a swab soaked in surgical spirit.

“All over now.” The doctor said, no pain, all gone.” And she took my clit in her thumb and forefinger and pinched. I felt as if she were touching rubber. Then she picked up a thin, sharp par of scissors and spoke in her own language to the second nurse who came over, eyes fixed on my cunt. Se made a snipping motion with the scissors and the nurse nodded her head. My lover watched smiling.

“We want this.” She said dreamily, her own medication calming her, but she was happy she had always wanted this for herself!

“AAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaahh……oooooooowwwww!” I yelled, unable to speak.

“Shh it all over soon.” The doctor said.

She lifted my left labia and, as the nurse skilfully gripped the lip high, she slid the blade under and began to cut. The second nurse colleted the flesh in a silver dish. Then she clamped my other cunt lip, it was held and stretched, and the doctor snipped through it with ease.

She shot a jet of water on my bloodied cunt; I stared in horror at my cunt with the outer lips missing.

“She nearly clean.” The doctor said.

Then she jerked my inner lips upwards, pressed the blades down and cut brutally, as if cutting tough cloth, as the two bloodied inner lips were dropped into the bowl I could only stare with tears streaming down my face as I witnessed the removal of my woman hood. My clitoris was sticking up, enlarged with shock, seeming vulnerable – my clit, mine, being taken.

“uuurrrraaaaaaaa…AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

My voice echoed around the room but my protests were ignored.

She clamped the clit at its base, the nurse held it up, and with a brutal swipe of the scissors, she cut through my organ. It dropped into the bowl and blood pumped out. I was sprayed with a jet of water and given a second injection. The gag was removed from my mouth but I lay herein silence, tears running uncontrollably from my eyes as the nurse took a very long piece of surgical thread and began the slow procedure of sewing me up. While she worked I looked over at my lover.

She smiled at the doctor; the nurse held her hand as she was injected and although a tear ran from her eye, she did not change her mind. She looked down keenly. The doctor took another pair of scissors and, spreading her outer lips, snipped off the inner labia and kept cutting, working her way up, forcing the blades closed twice to lop off the pink nub of flesh that plopped into the kidney bowl.

“Ohh…” She moaned, although it was from relief the procedure was over. She was stitched quickly, a thin line of sutures. Afterwards she watched as the other nurse continued to sew me. I was stitched from one side of the labia to the other, and then the flesh was closed up. I had been given a total excision.

As the dressing was put on, the doctor patted my bald head.

“I give you through circumcision, bald western lady, You like?”

More tears ran from my eyes.

“I like.” My lover replied.

I turned my face away, sobbing again.

We were taken to a private room after our cunts were dressed and our beds placed side by side.

“I am sorry I did not tell you.” My lover said, “You have often said circumcision excites you, so I gave you a trial shave and paid for a full ritual circumcision by a good medical doctor. You are clean now and so am I.”

The doctor came into our room an hour later.

I was lying there, holding my lovers hand across the gap between our beds. We had  talked and I was beginning to accept this had not been an assault but a treatment that was better done like this than any other way later on due to my clitoral problems.

“How you feel now, bald western lady?” The doctor asked me.

I blinked tear stained eyes and exchanged a glance with my lover. My cunt, despite its ordeal, tingled in my holes as I turned weakly and looked at her, my face still tear stained and my eyes red and I replied, speaking the painfully honest truth:

“Clean” I replied, “I am nice and clean now, thank you.”

It was almost a month before she finally admitted to me that she wanted to be raped, not that it would really be rape, because it’s what she wanted, but more than anything she wanted to be treated like she was just an object, devoid of control, to be used completely for a man’s pleasure and nothing more than a rag doll to be fucked and abused.

Her name was Allison, but she went by Allie most of the time.  I thought it was a cute, and perfect, name for her.  She was attending community college nearby, looking to eventually be a nurse, or school teacher, though I wondered, if she was honest with herself, if her goal really wasn’t to find a Master, somebody to own and use her without mercy.

My heart started beating the instant I saw her step nervously through the door that first time, her nipples were rock hard as she crossed her arms over her chest unconsciously, trying to cover the obvious sign of arousal, or at least trepidation, she felt.

She was almost willowy in appearance, young, barely 19 now, she would be an absolutely gorgeous girl in her mid-twenties, in a different way, after she’d fully blossomed, but she was by no means unattractive, but she was still physically young, her body was angular, her elbows sharp, her legs long and lean, almost like those of a doe.  She was thin, very thin, the t-shirt she wore clung to her body and focused all the more attention on her breasts, which were quite large for her size.  She was perhaps 5’4”, maybe 5’5”, but I doubt she weighed much over 100 lbs.

She cast me a nervous glance and smiled quickly as she walked toward the booth in which I sat.  As she approached, she lowered her head and her cheeks went flush.  She had on a short skirt and large hoop earrings, slut earrings I liked to think.  Her long blonde hair was straight and framed her face perfectly, her skin was smooth as porcelain and I instantly wanted to touch her, to run my hand over her flesh.

“Hi, I’m Allie, I’m, it’s, it’s nice to meet you, finally.”  Her face went crimson with embarrassment, almost exasperation.

“I’m Peter, so nice to meet you too.”  I slipped out of the booth and took her hand, her fingers were long and her palm was moist with nerves.

“You’re much prettier in person than in your photos.”   Allie blushed with the compliment.

“Thanks.”  Allie could barely look me in the eyes as a bored, raspy-voiced, waitress came over and we ordered coffee, and a light dinner.

We sat talking for about an hour, I thought it best to meet and chat in person, to make sure she was ready.  I guess it was as much for me too, to know that I could trust her, and that I knew she knew what she was doing.  My dick was hard the whole time, it was painful, it almost felt like I was in high school again, the hormones running uncontrolled through my body, I don’t think I’d ever been as horny as I was at that point, because I knew from almost the instant she sat down she was the perfect girl.

“So, do you want to do this then?”  I could tell for the previous 20 minutes she wanted to bring it up, to make it finally happen, but I could also see the nerves, and, oh, that sadistic bastard in me wanted to make her suffer a little while longer.

I slid a small stack of papers across the table, her hands where shaking as she moved the documents in front of her and started to read.  We’d talked about the night for a long time, I knew she wanted to be used and abused, to be raped, but still, perhaps it’s the obsessive compulsive in me, that person that needs to control everything, but I wanted to make sure, I didn’t want anything to come back on me, I suppose that’s the lawyer in me too, but I’d laid out in explicit detail what we had agreed to, what she wanted.

“Is everything alright and in there?”  She slowly nodded her head and signed the papers, one copy for her, one for me.  Allie blurted out, like and excited child.

“God my pussy is on fire.”  Instantly she covered her face with her hands and whimpered in embarrassment, unable to believe what she’d just said.  I just smiled broadly, wanting desperately to stroke my cock, it was throbbing so hard I didn’t think I could take it.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I can’t believe I just said that.”  I loved the way her face was beet red.

“Let’s get going.”  I left some money on the table and led Allie out into the parking lot.  Her legs were unstable as I helped her in the car.  She didn’t say a word as we drove to the motel.  She let out a gasp of shock as I reached over and laid my hand on her thigh as we pulled to a stop.

“We’re here.”  I ran my hand over her naked thigh towards the confluence of her legs.  It was the only sexual act of the evening, thus far.

Her hands trembled as I helped her out of the passenger seat and pointed her toward our room.  I could see the way her chest rose and fell quickly as we moved through the shadows, her nipples were rock hard against her top.

I grabbed her by the arm, pulling her to a stop before we got to the motel door.

“You understand, the minute that door closes, I own you, I’m going to use you the way I want to, I’m going to rape you.”  I could hear the nervousness in her voice, but there was also something more, I knew it was lust, not that she would ever admit it.  For months she’d been telling me how she wouldn’t enjoy being abused at all during, even though I knew she masturbated at least once a day about the thought of being raped, even just play-raped.

“Yes.”

“Good.”  I put the key card in the lock and the door opened.  I’d made sure to get a room with no others adjoining.  I didn’t expect it to be silent, but I wanted to avoid too many prying ears.  We’d agreed on a motel, mostly because we both felt safer that way.

I could distinctly hear the breath whisping through her nose as we stepped over the threshold.  I think she was shocked by the suddenness of my movement.  The instant the door clapped shut I had hold of her long blonde hair and jerked her head back violently, my hand was over her mouth before she could even make a sound.

“Don’t make a fucking sound bitch!”  I barked in her ear and brought a knife to her throat.  I could see the fear in her eyes.

“Don’t make a sound cunt, do you understand me?”  I could see the surprise, the terror, in her eyes.  I knew she’d fantasized about being raped, probably thousands of times, but perhaps the reality of it was somewhat different than she expected.

“Do you understand me you stupid whore?”  She nodded her head quickly, desperately.

“Good, you know I’m going to rape that pussy of yours till you scream, don’t you cunt!”  Tears bubbled from her eyes as she frantically whimpered.

“Let’s get to business slut, I want my dick in your pussy, bad!  That’s all your good for anyway”  I pulled the knife from her throat and dropped it on the floor, I grabbed a wad of cloth from my pocket and stuffed the balled rag into her mouth, I could hear the air whine through her nostrils as she sucked in deep breaths.  I grabbed for a roll of duct tape and put a wide piece over her mouth.

“That’ll keep you quite for now cunt!”  I pulled her wrists roughly behind her back and wrapped the duct tape around her forearms, they were crossed in the small of her back, her hands almost to the opposite arm’s elbow.  I could hear her sobbing, I knew she was crying and I could see the tears streaking down her smooth, pretty cheeks.  Her makeup ran down her skin and only turned me on more.

I smacked her hard across the face.

“I know you want it slut, all cunts do!”  I moved her easily across the floor, she weighed almost nothing, and with the adrenaline, the lust, running through my veins, I slammed her hips into the edge of the couch and pusher her forward, bending her at the waist.

“Just a few more seconds bitch, then you’ll get to feel my cock in your dirty snatch!”  I grabbed the hem of her skirt and lifted it up her thigh’s, I brutally grabbed for her panties and tugged them down her legs till they were wrapped around her ankles.

“Spread those legs bitch!”  I kicked her feet wide.

The gag muffled her shriek as I slammed one finger in her quivering pussy and leaned down over her, pressing my chest against her back.  I grabbed her by the hair and twisted her head as I whispered in her ear and pumped one finger in and out of her convulsing vagina.

“How do you like that bitch?  I bet you can’t wait to feel my cock in that tight little snatch of yours.

The girl was sobbing uncontrollably as I pulled my finger from her pussy and pulled down my pants.  I loved hearing her blubber as I eased my slacks down my thighs.  My dick was so hard it hurt, I could feel the blood racing through my veins and I’d never felt so turned on before in my life.

My hands were shaking as I rolled a condom over my thick shaft.

“It’s time to make you a woman cunt!”  I grabbed for her hips and dug my fingers into her flesh.  I groaned loudly as I slammed my dick in her pussy, she was tight, so incredibly tight, I thought I might blow instantly I was so turned on.  My head was spinning I was so light-headed

“HOLY SHIT!!!”  I grabbed for her long hair and tugged brutally, pulling on her scalp like reins as I pounded my cock into her cunt as hard as I could.  I could feel her vaginal muscles clamping down on my cock involuntarily as I began rutting her.

“This is what you’re made for bitch!”  I arched her head back violently as my hips slammed against her ass, driving her thighs cruelly into the edge of the sofa.  I cruelly pulled on her scalp, making her shriek in pain as I tugged viciously on her hair as I pounded into her, bunny fucking her, taking her like an animal.  I could hear her cries as I kept ramming my cock in her pussy over and over again.  She was a rag-doll, a hole for my cock.

“I’m going to cum bitch!”  She squealed as I grabbed her hips and jerked her body back onto my cock.  I could feel my balls slapping against her pussy as I roared and thrust back my head.  My balls convulsed and I could feel my sperm shooting into her as my prick jerked and pulsed inside her tight slit.

“Holy crap!”  I slapped my hand down hard on her ass as her torso shuddered violently.

“Holy crap that was fucking incredible.”  My balls were still spasming, my whole body was tingling and I felt like I was going to pass out I was on such a high.  My hands were numb as I finally let go of her hips.

“Holy shit that was fucking incredible bitch.”  Allie was sobbing, her legs were shaking uncontrollably as she was bent over the edge of the couch with her breasts crushed against the cushions with me leaning over her.

“God that was incredible cunt!”  I grabbed her by the hair and pulled her off the edge of the sofa, I twisted her head violently so she was looking me in the face.  Tears were still streaming down her cheeks leaving dark streaks of make-up covering her skin.

“You’re just a dirty whore!”  I spit in her face and thick wads of saliva splattered on her forehead.

“I bet you loved that, didn’t you bitch, feeling my cock in your snatch!”  I heard her screech as I dragged her by the hair into the middle of the room and forced her to her knees.  My dick was still hard and bobbed in front of her face.  I gently worked the condom off my cock, making sure not to spill a drop of sperm.

“Don’t make a sound cunt!”  She yelped in pain as I smacked her across the face.  I tugged the tape off her mouth and pulled the rag from between her teeth.

“Here is a treat for you slut.”  I grabbed for her hair again and arched her head back.

“Open up!”  I held the bulging condom to her lips and started pouring the warm cum down her throat.  She was sobbing as the sperm hit her tongue and ran down her throat slowly, the thick goo moved like molasses.

“Don’t swallow till I tell you.”  I stood over the girl, the adrenaline still racing through my veins, her hair still clutched in my hand forcing her head back as tears streaked down her face.

“You are a pretty little bitch, aren’t you.”  Allie’s whole body convulsed as spasms racked her frame.

Her mouth was filled with my milky cum, it pooled on her tongue and her teeth were slimed with the warm sperm.

“Swallow slut!”  Allie sobbed as she closed her eyes and forced herself to gobble down the pecker-snot.

“Tastes good, doesn’t it cunt?  You should be honored that I let you have the pleasure of my cum.”  I laughed out loud as I smacked her hard across the face again.

“Clean me bitch!”  I slapped my prick down on her forehead, then rammed it between her lips without giving her time to react.  I pinched her nostrils shut and jerked my hips forward, burying my cock deep against the back of her throat.  Instantly she started to gag and tried to pull her mouth off my shaft, but with her hands still bound, she couldn’t fight me.

“That’s it bitch, you know this is what you’re made for.”  I loved the way she choked on my cock as I forced it against the back of her throat.

“God that’s incredible.”  Allie gasped desperately as I pulled the head of my cock from between her lips and let her gulp down much needed air.

“Lick me cunt!”  Her whole body was shuddering, trembling with fear as she started lapping her tongue nervously along the length of my shaft, her face was flush as she moved her tongue over my prick.

“That’s fucking incredible bitch.”  She was sobbing so loud it wasn’t even funny as her tongue moved over my dick and balls.

“Time to get you out of those clothes cunt, don’t make a fucking sound, understand me?”  I slapped her across the face again.

“Never mind.”  I laughed as I picked my boxers up off the floor and stuffed them between her lips, they were wet with pre-cum.

“How does that taste slut?”  I grabbed a piece of duct tape and put it over her lips then I spit in her face.  Her eyes jerked shut as the saliva hit her skin.

“Get off your knees cunt.”  I grabbed her by the hair and tugged her to her feet, she squealed as I pulled hard on her hair.

“I want to see that skanky little body of yours.”  I picked the knife from where I dropped it on the floor and brought it to her face.

“I’m going to cut your arms free, and then you’re going to strip for me, understand.”  Allie cried as I put the tip of the blade up under her chin, making her lift her head higher making her stare me in the eyes.

To be continued…

February 1, 2009

This morning began just like every other morning. i woke up at 6 am and began my daily ritual of quickly showering, getting myself presentable, making breakfast and serving You in bed. I knelt quietly beside Your bed in my “in house attire.” (When i am home alone with my Master i am completely naked wearing only my two black leather wrist and ankle cuffs, and a thick black leather collar. All are locked in place with heavy padlocks and Master keeps the keys on His key ring along with His house and car keys. This is to remind me that i too am His property just as is His car and His house.) As You finished Your breakfast, You leaned over to kiss my forehead. You reminded me that You were excited about the Super Bowl party You planned for tonight. You said that W/we had a lot to do to get ready for O/our guest. (Master had invited five or six of His male friends over to watch the game with Him, and i was to serve the food and drinks.) Since i don’t share Your love for football, i didn’t share Your enthusiasm about the night’s upcoming events.

i ran the water for Your bath and then went to clean the dishes. When i returned, You were just about to step out of the tub. i dried Your body while You continued to talk about the things W/we needed to do. You kissed me passionately parting my lips with Your tongue, running Your fingers between my thighs and pausing on my clit. You stopped abruptly and wagged Your finger, wet with my juices, in front of my face and said, “No, no. you will not distract Me with your sweet, brown pussy today. W/we have a busy schedule ahead of U/us.” You pointed to a shopping bag sitting on the floor beside Your bed. “I got U/us something.” You followed me into the bedroom to watch me as i pulled two matching Steelers’ jerseys from the bag. Just as the ungrateful slave slut that i am, i began to complain.

“Master, please let me go out when Your friends arrive. i really hate football and i don’t think i can sit here all night while You and Your friends get drunk.”

The look on Your face was the same look that i have when You slap mine. Shock and disappointment washed over it, and Your cheeks glow red with fury. i should have known to stop there, but that was only the beginning of my whining and complaining.

You pulled Your favorite jeans of mine and a black and gold bra and panty set from my dresser drawers (my Master chooses my clothes that i wear everyday) and tell me to get dressed. i put those things on along with the new jersey and begin to tidy the house for guests. i spend the better part of the day preparing the food and snacks but i also constantly let You know that i am not happy with this task.

“i hate football, anyway.”

“i’m not having company, Master, You are.”

“Why can’t i just hang out with my friends?’

“Why can’t You just order pizza?”

“Why do i even need to be here?”

Finally, You had enough and couldn’t take my mouth anymore. You told me to strip and wait for you in the punishment room. (This room is where W/we keep most of O/our “equipment.” It used to be a garage, but Master had it closed off. There are no windows at all in the room. It has warm brown wall to wall carpeting and beige painted walls. Other than a large painting depicting a nude woman being whipped while tied to a cross, the room remains intentionally undecorated to give it a cold feeling. As you might have already guessed, this is my least favorite place in the house.) i know i’m in big trouble now. i immediately go into corner time, waiting for You to come in and administer my punishment.

It seemed like hours passed and my knees were aching from the carpet burns. i could hear Your friends beginning to arrive. When You did come into the room, i was expecting You to give me the usual spanking with Your belt and i was embarrassed because i knew that everyone would hear it. But that was not Your plan at all. You have secretly prepared for this moment because lately Your belt hadn’t been as effective in correcting my behavior.

Using the rings on my ankle and wrist cuffs, You tied me to the (asymmetrical) horse that You made for my birthday. (This allows my head to be low and my ass to be up high. The horse is lined with black vinyl covered padding along the base and where my knees rest, and is not too uncomfortable unless i am lying on it for long periods of time.) You pulled the steel medical tray in front of me so that i could see what ‘instruments’ You planned to use for my punishment. On the tray You placed two things: the large silicone buttplug that You have threatened to use on many occasions, that i fear won’t fit, and another item that i had never seen before. It was a steel plug with a hose and a funnel attached at the end of the hose.

My eyes instantly grew wide with fear and i knew what You were planning for me. Just as i began my verbally protests, You inserted the bright red ballgag in my mouth and left me in the room to ponder the situation. While You were away, i struggled to lift my head many times to look at Your instruments. My heart beat so fast i thought it would burst from my chest.

You got Your guests settled in and returned in about a half hour’s time. i begged You, through the gag, to forgive me by promising to be the best hostess i can be. i begged You for a severe beating with Your belt. But You told me it was way to late for that and i should have thought about that this morning before i pissed You off. You grabbed some lube and began working Your fingers in and around my asshole. My tears began to run down my face. i could feel my clit swelling while pressing against the base of the horse as i wiggled to allow Your finger easier access to my hole.

“you are such a fucking whore. you know that don’t you?” i could hear the smile on Your face as Your second finger slid in my ass and your thumb in my pussy. You played with me for a little longer and then pulled Your hand away.

“you know what’s coming next don’t you?” You asked as You brushed the cold steel at my tightly puckered hole. You began working the plug in and out of my ass, twisting it deeper and using more force with each thrust. i let out a soft moan through the gag, in pleasure and pain. Just as it became unbearable, i felt my hole relax and i knew that the steel plug was in place. i could feel You tug at the hose to make sure that the plug would not pop out.

You grabbed a handful of my hair and turned my head to look at You and said, “you had better not push that out. Do you understand me?”

“Weeefff Maphfer.” i mumbled threw my gag.

With only a warning from the sound of Your zipper being lowered, You gave me my first punishment of the evening. You released Your bladder into the funnel. i felt Your hot piss flowing into my bowls and i gasped of pleasure. You laughed because You knew that as the night continued, my reaction would change. When You were finished You grabbed the silicone plug and covered it with lube. i shook my head ‘no’ and mumbled pleas for You not to use it. You ignored me and pressed it firmly and methodically against my hole. i tensed in a fleeting attempt to pull away. You put Your hand on the small of my back forcing my body and my pussy back onto the horse. i already had very little wiggle room, but under the power of Your hand, i had even less. Just before the monster plug fully settled in completely, i let out a loud yelp. You smiled and firmly smacked my ass.

You walked around to look at me again. While tenderly wiping the tears from my eyes You ask, “How does that fell, hmm? Does it hurt?”

“Weeefff Maphfer.”

“Good!” Your voice instant changed from loving to a stern growl. “So maybe the next time I ask you to do something for me, you’ll have a better attitude.”

With that, You covered my eyes with a sleeping mask to blindfold me. Then i felt You insert the small spongy ear plugs and place the headphones over my ears with the music loud enough that i wouldn’t be able to tell when You returned.

While You were away with Your guests, i tried to stretch my limbs and adjust my body. i felt parts of me begin to stiffen and fall asleep. Though i had no way of knowing for sure, i thought i sensed You in the room with me many times. i cried and even plead for release, repeatedly. Hours seemed to pass before You returned and touched my shoulder, i was glad my torment was over. Pulling off the headphones, You removed the ties and helped me to my feet. You freed my mouth from the gag and allowed me to relax my jaw, but You left the blindfold and earplugs in place. You placed a large plastic bowl in my hands and guided me to my knees. i instinctively knew what the bowl was for. With one hand on the side of my head, you aggressively press my face into the floor. With the other hand You reach behind me to maneuver the buttplug from my asshole. i felt myself struggling to control a scream as the plug was ripped from my body. i immediately search in the dark for the plastic bowl and position it beneath me to catch Your fluids and my waste exploding from my body. When You were sure that i had expelled everything, You push me back to my knees and clean me up with a wet cloth.

i waited on my knees until You gave me further instructions. However, i was surprised to feel the steel plug with the hose being pressed in at my backdoor yet again. This time, with little regard for discretion, i loudly protest.

“No Master, please,” i heard my self yell. But the steel plug slid in with little to no resistance. i reached out for You  and realized that at least one other person is in the room. One of You yanked my hair towards the floor while the other refastened the ballgag in my mouth. The one holding my hair forces my head into the carpet and sits on my face. i believed that person straddling my neck, with His ass on the side of my face, to be You since You have done that before when You thought that i was getting out of control. i could only struggle to breath and flail my arms around in that vulnerable position. i felt my belly fill with warm fluid again and was humiliated to know that someone other You was pissing in my ass. i then felt You switch places and You added Your piss as well. Again, the large silicone buttplug was pushed in place. At that point, i noticed that the blindfold was becoming soaked with my tears. You and Your guest led me to a chair. my arms were quickly tied behind me and my legs were spread apart and tied to the back legs of the chair. i know it was You who straddled the chair to sit on my bare lap, pinching and twisting my nipples. i sensed that it had to be half-time because You played with me so long before replacing the headphones over my ears and leaving me in complete darkness.

Each time i thought that i could feel Your presence in the room, i begged You for forgiveness.

By the end of the evening i was crying and writhing in pain. my belly cramped badly. i twisted and turned in the chair in attempts to push the plug, or at least Your fluid, out of my ass. When You finally untied me, removing the blindfold and earplugs, i was happy to hear that Your friends had all left. You slowly led me to the bathroom to release Your piss from my bowels. You allowed me to shower and clean myself up.

As i entered the bedroom, You were sitting on the end of the bed motioning for me to come to You. You brushed my hair from my shoulder and kissed my neck and said, “Tonight was very exciting for Me. My team won the Super Bowl. And do you know how I want to celebrate?” You leaned closer to me, pressed Your lips against my ear and whispered, “I want to give you what you’ve begged for all night.”

That’s when i noticed Your belt in Your right hand.

One day Sarah came into the bar and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was one of them, but she wouldn’t give in to it or to me.  But she kept coming back anyway.  Deliberately not sitting at the bar, trying to pick up other guys, but always looking back at me.  So tonight I got another bartender to cover, and I walked over to her.  I told the guy she was with that the bitch was mine and I grabbed her by the hair and took her to my van, threw her in the back and chloroformed her and took her home.

Now I sat in my chair looking at her, all tied up like that,  arms stretched up over her head wide apart, legs wide tied to the spikes in the floor.  Tits tied tightly, turning darker and darker as I watched.  As I sat there I thought I can do anything I want to her and my cock jumped.  She was whimpering terribly and I thought about gagging her, but I really wanted to hear her scream and no one could hear her anyway.  Yes now she was whimpering, but soon she would be screaming and I would be smiling.  I wanted to hurt her, hurt her bad.  She deserved it for snubbing me the way she did.  And as I sat there I looked at my table of implements wondering what to use first.

I rose and walked over to her.  First my hands, I needed to touch, to feel, so I felt her hardened tits so beautifully dark, I began to smack them hard first one, then the other then both together and I grabbed them and squeezed them and twisted them and dug my fingernails into them.  And I pulled my nails down make deep scratches even drawing blood and she began to scream making my cock jump.  Now I grabbed her nipples and brought my mouth to her ear, I bit it and whispered.  “this is who you are, what you are good for”  I dug my nails into those nipples “Tell me what you are” “Tell me what you want”  And I took out two heavy duty plastic gridded clamps (certainly not meant for nipples) and I snapped them onto her nipples and as she screamed out I yelled “tell me!”

She screamed “I am Your slave, I belong to you, I am a slut.  I want to belong to You, to suffer for You to please you in any way that You chose”  “Good” I said as I grabbed the clamps and twisted them harshly and she screamed.  Then I took out a flogger I had made just for her.  A 6 tailed cat to which I had secured little metal studs on the ends, 3 on each tail.  I showed it to her, told her to kiss it, to suck on the studs, feel their hardness in her mouth, feel their sharpness in her mouth, let them scratch the insides of her mouth and her tongue.  Then I smiled at her and asked her what I should do with it. She said I should whip her tits with it.  “Beg” I told her.  “Please Sir, Master, please whip my tits with the studded flogger, whip them hard again and again cover every inch of my titmeat, sorry Your titmeat, whip them till they bleed, then whip them more.  Please, Sir,

And I showed no mercy as I whipped them and my cock jumped as she screamed and her tits began to be covered in welts and scratches and deep cuts, so beautiful, her agony.  And I whipped the clamps off so I could aim right at her nipples, and she begged for more.  And I gave her more.  And my cock exploded as I watched the destruction of her tits and listened to her screams. I stopped.  I stopped and untied her and pushed her to the floor and told her to lick up my cum and let me hear how much she enjoyed it. And as she licked I picked up the flogger and kicked her legs apart and began working on her ass and cunt.  When the floor was clean, I pulled her head up by her hair and shoved my cock deep in her mouth thrusting hard way back down her throat, feeling her gag around it, every so often holding her nose so she couldn’t breathe at all until I came again right down her throat and kept her mouth filled with cock until it was all swallowed.  And I followed that by giving her a mouthful of piss to swallow.

I dragged her by the hair to her new cage.  Not big enough for her to stretch out or even to sit comfortably.  She had to curl up like a cat in order to fit.  I locked the cage. I asked her what she had to say.  She said” Thank You Master.” I asked what she wanted to do tomorrow.  She told me she wanted to suffer more for me that I should hurt and humiliate her even more than tonight.  That she loved me and that her body was mine and she only hoped that her suffering would bring me pleasure.  I smiled and told her each day would only bring me pleasure if I could take her further into pain and humiliation, more and more every day.  And she said that that’s what she wanted too.

I said good night, Oh and don’t you dare piss in that cage.  If you do I will have to clamp you up tomorrow night.  Sweet dreams.

her story

From the first time i came to the bar, i knew I’d be back.  There was something about that bartender.  Though i never went up to the bar, i couldn’t stop looking at Him and the way He treated some of the other girls who would go up to the bar. The first night i was there i watched as a very skimpily dressed girl went up to the bar and sat lifting her skirt so her bare ass was on the bar stool.  He served her a drink and smiled at her, and then she unbuttoned her blouse and sat there with her tits almost popping out.  He came back and reached across the bar and played with her tits, even grabbing her nipples it looked like He was squeezing and twisting, and she looked like she was stifling a scream.

Another time i saw a different girl reacting the same way, but when the bartender went on break she disappeared as well.  She came back a while later took the same seat with her skirt lifted, tits hanging our (very reddened in color) also the part of her ass that was visible was very red and her face was covered with what could only be cum.  And she just sat there.  When the bartender came back, He reached to grab her tits, she actually lifted them to him, He grabbed and twisted them and then spit on her face, she opened her mouth and He spit again right into it.  Then He gave her a glass full of a very yellow liquid.  i ambled over to order a drink and sat next to her and could easily smell what the liquid was.  i smiled at the bartender as i ordered my glass of wine, stayed long enough to watch the girl drink down the glass and then walked away with my wine.

The same girl came back the next day.  When she sat you could see several bruises on her ass and tits, once she sat made her tits totally hang out, and then sat them on the counter.  i couldn’t understand why no one said anything; the rest of the crowd just seemed to ignore it.  Ignored it when He smacked those tits after serving someone.  Ignored it when He picked up a smoldering cigarette that someone had left and put it out on her tit.  Ignored it when He handed her a whole lemon and told her to shove it up her ass and keep it there.  Ignored it when she told Him she loved Him and kissed Him passionately while He dug His fingernails into her tits.

I had no idea what i was thinking but it was obvious to me that i found this compelling.  i wanted to be her, but i didn’t understand why.  So i would keep coming back teasing myself up to that bar, eyeing the bartender, especially when there were no other girls, but then laughing and walking away when He said something to me.  But there was no doubt in my mind; i wanted what He was giving.  i kept flirting with the danger, but scared as i was i just kept ignoring His attentions.

Tonight that all changed, for He just came and took me, drugged me and threw me in the back of His van.  When i awoke i was tied up unable to move.  i was in agony, my tits were swollen from being tied, and scratched and bleeding and beaten.  The clamps on my nipples were biting hard and i remember screaming out that i was His, a slut to use as He pleased, His slut.  i remember begging Him to beat me with that wicked flogger, little balls at the end of the flogger tails torturing my tits, ripping off the wicked clamps so hard, i thought they took my nipples with them.  i remember He released me and pushed me to the floor to lick up the cum that had exploded from His cock while i screamed and as i did, He kept flogging me with my legs spread hitting my ass and cunt, crying screaming and devouring His cum. Then He pulled my Head up, and pushed His huge cock deep in my mouth using my Head to control it forcing down my throat, gagging around it hardly able to breath and Him cutting off my air supply totally at points, feeling His cum spurt into my throat, swallowing it, then my mouth filling with His piss, swallowing.  All the time letting Him know i was now His, and begging for the abuse that i deserved.

When He led me to the cage, i could hardly fit in.  i curled up like a cat and told Him something like: i was His and wanted to spend the next day and every day suffering in pain and humiliation for Him, that i loved Him and would do anything for Him.  He said He would make sure it was worse for me, better for Him every day.  Then He told me not to piss and walked away.

To be continued:

His Story:

The first thing I did the next morning was to go down the basement to the cage.  She was awake and whimpering.  I knew she was hurting, but also assumed she had to pee real bad.  There were a few drops on the floor telling me she was trying desperately to hold it in.  I laughed to myself thinking of the punishment I would bestow.  I reached in and grabbed her by the tit pulling her toward me, unleashed my cock and told her to drink, swallow, suck and swallow.  I also told her that meant swallowing every drop.  She really needed a lot of practice taking cock down her throat, so I had to use force to get my cock past that back part of her throat where her gagging felt so good, squeezing me, and the guttural screaming around my cock, oh how I loved it.  After she had swallowed all my cum, I gave her a bucket and told her she could piss.  Then I brought her upstairs naked and told her to make me breakfast.

I watched her as she made me eggs admiring the marks on her body.  I lit a cigarette and walked over to her, grabbed her around and shoved my cock up her tight ass.  “push back get it in all the way” I told her and she did, then I lifted the cigarette and as I started to pump her ass, I kept touching the lit cigarette against her body, anywhere, but mostly on her tits.  And as she jumped and writhed it made my cock feel so good and I exploded up her ass as I pushed the lit cigarette into her right nipple leaving it there until I was spent.  I told her she’d better keep all that cum tight in her ass until I allowed her to expel it.  I sat back down at the table and let her serve me telling her to feed me so I could continue to cause her pain as she did.

As she fed me, I slapped her tits, tummy, thighs and ass paying special attention to those burn spots.  She jumped and writhed and wriggled not only from the pain but also trying to hold that cum in her ass, like a cum enema.  She was losing the battle as I could see some of the cum begin to dribble from her ass.  Since all this was making me hard again anyway, I pushed her over the table and shoved my cock back up her ass again soon giving her another dose of cum.  I told her to hold it and her position and I went and got one of those huge butt plugs which I shoved up her ass to keep the cum inside her.  Then I pulled her up from the table and made her clean me off since it was covered in cum and shit.

Then I served her breakfast.  I took a dog bowl from the cabinet and filled it with dry oats, I pissed into the bowl and put it down on the floor.  “This is all you get to eat today my cunt so “enjoy.  I don’t allow my slaves any pleasures and that includes the taste of food. Eat it all, lick the bowl and thank me for the wonderful meal I allowed you.” She gagged and coughed, but eventually finished it all and thanked me properly.

I brought her back down to the basement, removed the butt plug and allowed her to expel into the bucket.  Only then did I unlock the bathroom in the basement and told her to clean out the bucket.  When she was done, I tied her hands together pulled them up over her head and attached them to a hook in the ceiling, and turned on the hose to clean her off, cold and hard.  I locked her back in the cage and told her I would be back later for more fun and for the punishment she needed for allowing a few drops of piss on the floor.

her Story

i wasn’t able to sleep, but just lied there whimpering.  Every part of my body hurt and i had to pee soooooo bad!  i had even let a few drops of pee escape.  But they were so small i hopedHewouldn’t notice.  He grabbed me by my tit, pulling me hard toward Him digging in to my already mauled meat, pulled out His cock and shoved it in my mouth and pissed, i had to keep swallowing which was hard being gagged with His cock and then when He finished peeing,He just kept it there and told me to suck and shoved it further back forcing it hard into my throat holding my head against His crotch and pumping, i could hardly get any air as He just kept going and i gagged around it until His cum began to fill my mouth trying hard to swallow and not to spill as it spurt into my throat.

When He was done and i had swallowed it all, He gave me a bucket and told me i could pee.  He watched intently with that smirky smile knowing how degrading it was to squat over the bucket and pee.  Then He grabbed me by the hair and led me upstairs and told me to make breakfast.

As i was preparing His eggs, He came up behind me with a cigarette in His hand and i felt His cock at the entrance to my asshole already hard Hejust forced it hard into my ass, telling me to push back into Him and get it in as far as it would go.  And as He did i felt the first kiss of the cigarette on my tit, i screamed and jumped and wriggled as He continued to touch the cigarette tip to my tits and anywhere He could.  i screamed and bucked with each touch and He pumped harder and harder and the cigarette burned me until He was ready and i could feel it getting ready to explode and He brought the cigarette right up against my nipple and crushed it into it as He came hard up my ass and i screamed and though i would pass out.  He told me to hold all that cum in my ass.

He then brought me back to the table and told me to feed Him as i stood there so that He could cause me pain as He ate.  And as i fed Him He slapped me all over but seemed to concentrate on all the spots that He had burned me.  wiggled and screamed and tried hard to hold the cum deposit in my ass, but i knew i was failing.  Suddenly He pushed me hard down over the table and shoved His cock up my ass again pounding me harder than even before,  It felt like He was splitting me apart until He shot into me again.  He told me I’d better hold it, but it was really hard, as if i had gotten an enema, but i struggled until He returned and shoved a big hard fat plug into my ass.   Then He pulled me from the table pushed me down to my knees with His dirty cock in front of my face and made me clean Him off.  The taste was disgusting, i didn’t mind the cum but the shit that had stuck to Him made me gag and want of vomit, but i somehow controlled it.

He dragged me by the hair over to the corner of the kitchen and took out a dog feeding bowl.  He also took a box of oatmeal and poured it into the bowl, then Heput it down on the floor and pissed in it.  He told me that was all i was getting to eat today, that i was a slave and didn’t deserve any pleasure including the taste of food, but that i had to eat whatever was given to me completely.  i couldn’t even stand the smell, let alone the taste, but i tried to eat, gagging and coughing, bits of oatmeal getting stuck in my throat, and cramping terribly from all the cum filling my bowels.  i struggled but eventually i was down to the bottom licking the bowl clean.  i looked up at Him, smiled and said “Thank You Master for giving me such a wonderful meal and allowing me to eat.”

Grabbing my hair again He led me down to the basement removed the plug and pushed me into the cage and told me to expel into the bucket which was a big relief.  He unlocked the bathroom door and told me to clean out the bucket.

Afterwards He tied my hands together and attached them to a hook in the ceiling, picked up a hose and began spraying me hard with cold water.  The spray was so hard it felt like needles were sticking into me all over. The burn spots coming alive again in pain.   He pulled my legs apart so He could make sure to get my cunt and asshole clean. He turned it off, took me down and locked me back up in the cage, told me he’d be back later, that He needed to punish me for allowing piss drops on the floor.  He left and i lied on the cold cement floor, cold, wet and shivering.  Thinking to myself this is who i am, what i was meant to be.

To be continued:

A man walked through the door of the building. It was a filthy establishment. He looked to the stage and saw a young woman – sixteen or seventeen by the looks – being raped. She was fighting it, but it was obvious that the men would have their way regardless of how she felt.

The man approached the bar. He ordered a whisky and got it, in a glass so filthy he was almost afraid to drink it.

“What the hell,” he thought. “If this doesn’t kill me, the damn cirrhosis will.”

Looking at the stage, he waved to the bartender.

“I thought there were three sisters working here,” he said in heavily accented Thai.

“They are up next,” the bartender said. “In about five minutes from the look of it.”

The girl was choking. One of her rapists had shoved his dick too far down her throat and was having difficulty getting it back out. As the audience watched, she turned blue, went into convulsions, and died. To the man’s amazement, at least half of the audience was clapping politely. This definitely was a strange culture.

After the stage was cleaned up, three young women came out. According to the MC, they were sisters. They were Elizabeth (20 years old), Melinda (18 years old), and Amy (18 years old). Other than the man, they were the only white people in the Asian-filled building.

The oldest one waved at someone off-stage and a man came out leading a horse. After tying reins to a ring in the floor, the man left. Elizabeth immediately sunk to her knees and started sucking the horse’s dick. While she was doing that, Melinda opened a can of lard someone had handed her and started coating her right hand and forearm. Once the arm was completely covered, the 18-year-old started forcing her arm up her sister’s ass. The fact that it did not require too much effort (and the fact that Elizabeth never slowed down as she continued giving the horse a blowjob) indicated that this was not the first time the 20-year-old had had that done to her.

The youngest sister, Amy, started working her fist into Elizabeth’s pussy. none of the girls looked overly enthusiastic, but they were not fighting it either.

“They do this every night,” the man asked the bartender.

“Yes. Every night. They switch places though. Tonight it is the eldest fucking the horse. Last night it was the middle one.”

“Do you rent them out to customers?”

“Of course. How many of them and how long?”

“All three from whenever they are done on stage until tomorrow morning.”

“That will be $300 dollars American.”

“And if I kill them?”

“Then you kill them. It is the New Year tonight. There will be enough noise that no one will hear you. Normally, I would raise the price, but those three are so loose, that they cannot please a man anymore. I need to replace them anyway. Are you sure you want them?”

The man had already fished out $500 dollars.

“I want them. Can you end their show early?”

The bartender looked at the money in front of him.

“Certainly. Have a nice night, mister.”

“I will try. It looks like it will be a good one.”

Ten minutes later, there was a knock at the door. The man opened it and the three young ladies walked in. He was using a room loaned to him by the bartender. The fact that it had a TV and VCR was great. Looking at the three girls, he motioned for them to remove their clothes. They did so. The man was stunned. They were as beautiful as their mother had been.

“Hello girls,” he said. “My name is Ed. Have a seat. We are going to watch a few short films and then have some fun.”

“Are you going to kill us, now,” Elizabeth asked.

Ed looked at the girl. She was beautiful, but the look in her eyes was all but dead. Considering the things that could happen in this room tonight, Ed realized that killing her was not the worst of them.

“Do you want me to kill you?”

“Not really,” Melinda replied, “but normally, when a show is cancelled early, the girl goes to meet a ‘guest’ and never returns.”

“Well,” Ed replied, “to answer your question, no. I have no plans to kill you. I was telling you the truth earlier. We are going to watch a few movies. Then, in about 90 minutes, we are going to have some fun. Well, ‘fun’ may not be the right word, but you will see.”

“Are they movies we really want to see,” Melinda asked.

“What do you mean?”

“They make movies here,” Amy said. “Movies where they kill girls. It happens when the girls have been here for a while and the men are not paying to rent them anymore. That is why Elizabeth asked if you were going to kill us. It will happen to us soon.”

Ed shuddered. They obviously knew about snuff films. They were expecting to be killed in the making of them. He was not so sure that showing the films was such a good idea, after all.

“Um,” he said, “I do not know if you recognize me, but I am……”

“Uncle Ed,” Amy said. “Dad’s boss from back in America.”

“That’s right,” he replied, surprised. “I didn’t think you would remember.”

“Never mind that,” Elizabeth said. “You wanted to show us some movies. What are they? Your reluctance to answer Melinda’s question tells me that they are not movies we would want to see, but you already knew that. Why are you here, Ed?”

Ed looked at Elizabeth. The dead look in her eyes was gone. There was a kind of fury smoldering there, now. She was very intelligent. She was able to see that he had a hidden agenda. She was also – perhaps most dangerously – very, very pissed.

He sighed and set the movies down. Walking to the door, he locked both deadbolts and put the bar on the door.

“That is a useless gesture,” Amy said with a harsh chuckle. “If they want in here, they will just come through the wall. The walls are paper-thin.”

“Whatever,” Ed said. “You are right, Elizabeth. They are not movies you want to see. They are movies of people being killed. I need you to see them so I can give you a better understanding of the situation.”

“I don’t know,” he continued, “if you will…..”

“Just shut up and start the movies.”

Ed shook his head in sorrow and started the first movie. If he expected shock or grief to move the girls when they saw their mother kill their eldest sister, he was disappointed. After the movie ended, he removed the tape and look at the girls.

“I am sor…..”

“Put in the next one,” Amy said, cutting him off.

The second was even worse than the first. Ed had hated this one most of all. The sick things the girl’s mother had been forced to do to her…. It made him ill just watching it. After a few moments, he ran to the bathroom and threw up noisily. The girls ignored him.

Seeing the look the girls gave him as the second movie ended, he just ejected the tape and put in the third movie. The girls watched in silence. If they were confused at the lack of sound in this one, they did not show it. When it was over, Ed pulled the tape and put all three movies back in his briefcase. Looking at his watch, he realized they still had 25 minutes before the excitement began.

“I am sorry you had to find out this way,” Ed said, “but your sisters and mother have been dead for eight years now.”

“We knew,” Amy said. “The men who brought us here were joking about it.”

“What,” Ed asked, astonishment clear in his tone. “You knew?”

“For eight years, now,” Melinda replied.

“Perhaps,” Elizabeth said, her voice full of menace, “you should tell us how you came by those movies and how you found us.”

Ed was no fool. The girls were naked and there were no apparent weapons handy. This girl, however, could possibly kill him if she felt the urge. Looking at her, he sighed and nodded.

“I will tell you everything I can,” he said. “There is, however, a problem.”

Looking around, he found a pen and paper. Cautiously scanning the room for cameras, he found none. Elizabeth, understanding his concern grabbed the pen and paper.

“There are no cameras in here,” she wrote. “They have a studio somewhere in the city for the films, but there are too many thieves in this area.”

“In 20 minutes,” Ed wrote after a quick look at his watch, “there will be a loud commotion in the bar. There will be shooting and yelling. We will go out that window by the bathroom.”

The two younger sisters, trusting their older sister to tell them what they needed to know, realized it was too quiet in the room and started making love to each other. The noise would satisfy anyone listening in from outside the door. Melinda motioned to her sister and they moved closer to Ed and Elizabeth so Melinda could give him a blowjob. His grunts of pleasure only added to the noise.

Elizabeth smiled as she looked at her younger sisters. They were quick.

“It was too quiet in here,” Elizabeth wrote as Ed gave her an incredulous look.

“I see,” Ed wrote as he realized that the girls were right.

“Anyway,” Elizabeth scrawled, “we are on the second floor. We cannot get out that window.”

“We will,” Ed replied with a smile. “A friend of mine will be waiting with a cart right below the window. He works with a laundry service and the cart will be full of sheets. We will jump onto the pile of sheets and get away from here. You and your sister will hide under the pile.”

“And where are we going?”

“America.”

“How?”

“We will go from here to the airport and then we will fly to Los Angeles. I have a private jet standing by.”

Further discussion was interrupted as a riot became audible below. There were heavy footfalls outside the door as the guards ran to the bar to investigate. Ed quickly pulled up his pants and moved to the window.

With a sigh of relief, he saw his friend waiting below the window. Scanning the street and windows, he saw no one who would be able to report the incident. Waving to the girls, he jumped out the window and landed in the cart. He looked up to the window and, seeing the three girls there, waved again.

Ignoring their current state of undress, the girls followed Ed’s example and were soon buried under a pile of dirty sheets as they were carried to the airport.

—–

“Wow,” Amy said as she exited the shower. “I didn’t know that you could have a shower on an airplane.”

Amy was the last of the three sisters to enjoy the shower. When Ed said he had a private jet, he was not kidding. When they had arrived at the airport, they were rushed into the plane so quickly, it was doubtful anyone noticed that the white ‘dresses’ they wore were actually sheets.

Within five minutes of boarding the plane, they were airborne. Now, three hours later, they were on their way to Tokyo, where they would catch a flight on ANA (All Nippon Airways). The flight from Tokyo to Los Angeles would take a little under 10 hours.

“It is a new development,” Ed said with a smile. “Emirate Airlines introduced showers in their big A380s in 2008. In a smaller plane like this, it was relatively easy to get an engineering firm to build a shower into it. What was difficult was getting the necessary waivers to allow it.”

“Well,” Elizabeth said, “it has been years since we have been this clean. So, ‘Uncle Ed’, what now?”

Ed knew this was coming, but he still has not sure how to say it.

“Um, what do you remember of your last few days in America?”

“Well,” Melinda said, “our father had just died. Mom went to his funeral. While she was gone, Michelle was in charge. Then some guys from dad’s office came and picked us up to take us to your place. We were on our way to a mall, I think, when a white van hit the car we were in and we were……I don’t know. I blacked out and woke up on an airplane.”

“Same here,” Elizabeth agreed as Amy just nodded.

“Ok,” Ed said with a heavy sigh. “You know that it was your mother who killed Michelle and Elaine, right?”

“That was what was shown on the tapes,” Elizabeth said angrily.

“And you saw her killed on the last tape by a masked person.”

“Yes,” Elizabeth replied.

“She was doing it to save your lives. She thought I was going to adopt you.”

“Huh,” Amy asked, confused. “She killed Chelly and Lany to save us? I don’t get it.”

“The people who abducted you, your mother, and your sisters told your mother that your father had been stealing from the company. He had stolen quite a bit and now the company wanted the money back.”

“But dad is dead.”

“Right,” Ed said. “That is why they gave your mother a couple of options. They were going to kill her and sell the tape on the black market to raise the money. Killing a 30-something woman, however, would not sell for a lot. Having the 30-something woman kill her own daughter on tape……now that would sell.”

“That is fucking sick,” Elizabeth said disgustedly.

“I happen to agree,” Ed continued. “The options they gave your mother were to kill Elaine and Michelle and allow it to be filmed, or, refuse to cooperate and let the abductors kill all of you on film. Seeing that Michelle and Elaine were going to die either way, your mother chose the way that would save you three.”

“Damn,” muttered Elizabeth, her anger fading a bit.

Ed was almost surprised when he saw the tears begin. The girls had hardened themselves to the point where they could take practically anything, but their mother’s decision still hit them hard. Wanting to give the girls a few minutes to digest what he had said, he left to speak with the flight attendant.

“So,” Elizabeth said when Ed returned, “we were supposed to be adopted by you. What happened?”

“Well,” Ed said, “this is where the story gets bad. Before we go further, though, a few questions.”

“Ok,” Elizabeth said, her patience growing thin. “What are they?”

“What was your mother like?”

“Huh? Mom? Uh, she was like most moms. We had a maid that helped out, but mom did most of the cleaning and cooking. I know she was always there for school events.”

“Did she work outside of the home?”

“Hmmm. No. I kind of remember her having a fight with dad about it once. She wanted to go back to work, but he said her place was in the home raising us kids.”

“That sounds like the Amanda I knew.”

“So, spill it, Ed. What don’t we know?”

“Okay. Your mother and sisters were killed because of an affair your father had with another woman. He stole nothing from the company.”

“What,” Melinda asked. “An affair?”

“Yes. Your father wanted a son. He wanted a son more than anything. His wife, however only gave him daughters. After five daughters, she said ‘no more’. Five kids were enough for her.”

“That, however,” continued Ed, “did not stop your father’s desire for a son. While he was at work, he met a woman he found attractive. She was receptive of his advances and they soon were meeting after hours to have sex. To his delight, he got her pregnant and they discovered that it was going to be a boy.”

“But mom…..”

“That is right. Your mother. If your father wanted to have a legitimate son, he would have to marry the woman before the boy was born. He was thinking about divorcing your mother when he died.”

“The woman,” he continued, “convinced that your mother was to blame for his heart condition, arranged everything. She arranged to have your mother kidnapped and killed. She arranged the deaths of your sisters. Lastly, she arranged for you to spend the last eight years in that bar.”

“How did you find out about all this, Uncle Ed,” Amy asked. “How did you find us?”

“That,” he replied sadly, “was easy. I knew where you were for the last eight years. Not the precise bar, but I knew you were being forced to do those things somewhere in that city. I knew, you see, because the woman is my own daughter, Alanna, and I helped her.”

That was it. Elizabeth snapped and lunged for Ed. As fast as she was, however, she was seated while her younger sisters were still standing. The younger girls quickly grabbed their out-of-control big sister and pinned her down.

“Let him talk, Liz,” Amy said. “Let him talk.”

“I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU, OLD MAN,” screamed Elizabeth.

“Shut up, Liz,” Melinda said as she slapped her big sister’s face. “I am sure he has a reason for his actions. And he did get us out of that hellhole.”

“You better have a reason, Ed,” Melinda continued. “If you don’t, I will kill you myself; even if you did rescue us.”

Elizabeth, no longer hysterical, glared at Ed. She nodded at Melinda and Amy, letting them know it was safe to let her go. The younger girls released her and she sat up. Still glaring, she waited for him to go on.

“If you really want to kill me, Elizabeth, I will allow it. I have cirrhosis and it is starting to affect my kidneys. This can result in acute renal failure. Death, in other words. I know it will happen sooner or later. Right now, I am still able to care for myself and move around on my own. As the disease progresses, I may lose that. I would rather die than be an invalid.”

“But,” he continued, “I have more information for you that you will want. When we are done with our business together, then I will let you do what you want. And, for your information, I did have reason for my actions.”

“When your father was a boy, he was like a son to me. I knew your mother as a chid because her father was a partner in my law firm. Your mother did not know my daughter, but your father played with her a lot. When your father died, it was like my own boy had died.”

“If you knew our mother,” Melinda asked, “how could you help your daughter kill her like that?”

“I knew about the affair. Your father and my daughter often met at my place for their…….”

“We get it,” Amy said.

“Anyway,” Ed continued, “they both told me of how your mother was killing your father. She was refusing to go back to work. She was refusing to cook or clean around the house. She had a maid in 7 days a week and it was the maid that cared for you and everything.”

“They painted her out to be a user. And when your father had his first heart attack, it was described as a result of stress caused by your mother. By the time he had his fourth heart attack, the one that killed him, I was convinced your mother was as bad as they were saying.”

“So,” Melinda asked, “what made you change your mind?”

“About a year ago, I made a discovery. I met your maid at a local grocery store and I struck a conversation about your family. The poor woman was most informative. She told me several things, some of which you just confirmed. One of these things was that your mother was not staying at home by her own wishes.”

“When I discovered that your mother was not the person described by your father and my daughter, I did some more digging. Everything they had told me about your mother was a lie. I decided to confront my Alanna.”

“For several years, now, she has been living in Italy. She would come back occasionally to get money. I am the sole administrator on your father’s estate. I manage all finances and give out money, as needed, for the care of his child.”

“Well,” Ed continued, “Alanna and I had a fight shortly after your mother’s death. I had a guilty conscience and was very upset over the entire affair. Alanna decided she did not want to be near me anymore and moved to Italy.”

“She would never tell me where she lived. She would just show up from time to time and demand money. Despite how I feel about her, I love my grandson, your half-brother.”

“I, against my better judgment, gave her viewing priveledges on the estate bank accounts. I was hoping to rebuild out relationship. I hoped that she would see how hard I worked to provide for her son.”

“I had taken your father’s $2 million policy and invested it. In almost five years, it was close to $150 million. There are no checks and balances on it. I can pull any amount out and call it a management fee.”

“When I decided to confront Alanna, I needed to find her. I hired a detective to track her down and report back to me. The guy was great. It took only two weeks. I went to Italy and was about to go up to her house when I saw her come out. She had a man with her. They got in their car and left.”

“I could not believe my eyes. I waited for them to come back and, seven hours later, they did. I was much closer at that time and before they went into the house, I called out to them.”

Closing his eyes, the memories of that afternoon came crashing back.

—–

One year ago…

Ed stood outside the villa in Ancona. He could not believe his eyes. Alanna was walking to the door with a man Ed knew very well. He suddenly realized he had to say something.

“Hello, John,” Ed said as he approached the couple.

“DAD,” Alanna exclaimed, “what are you doing here?”

“Apparently,” Ed said, “I am looking at a man that has been dead for the last seven years. Care to explain how this is possible?”

Alanna and John looked at each other for a moment. They knew that this had to be handled delicately. With Ed as the only administrator for John’s estates, he was indispensable.

“Come on in, Ed,” John said. “I think we could all do with a drink.”

“I agree,” Ed said. “I know I could use one.”

They entered the villa and immediately were ambushed by a 6-year-old boy who was being chased by his nanny.

“Lucia,” Alanna said to the nanny, “could you take Johnny to his room and keep him occupied? John and I have business with this man and we would like it quiet.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the maid responded as she took hold of the boy and retreated into the back of the villa.

“What can I get you to drink, dad?”

“Don’t worry about that, Alanna,” Ed said. “I think I just changed my mind about that drink. Tell me, John. How is this possible?”

“Well, Ed,” John said as he took a sip of his bourbon, “you know how they say everyone has a doppelganger out there? I found mine eight years ago. As luck would have it, he had similar health issues.”

“Let me see if I understand this,” Ed interrupted. “The body of the man in your casket in Midlawn Cemetery is that of the doppelganger?”

“Yes.”

“What about that business with Amanda and your daughters?”

“Ed,” John said plaintively, “you know I have always wanted a son. More than anything else in this world, I wanted a son. I loved Amanda, but she would not give me a son.”

“Not for lack of trying, John. She gave you five daughters.”

“Daughters, Ed. Daughters. I wanted a son. After Amy was born, she went ahead and had her tubes tied to prevent any more pregnancies. I couldn’t have that, Ed. I wanted a son. Alanna gave me one.”

“And so, with Alanna pregnant with your son, you just threw away your wife and daughters?”

“Well, divorce was out of the question. I had no real grounds for divorce and she would have taken half of everything. Then I remembered the life insurance policy. I arranged my ‘death’ and used the body of the doppelganger as my replacement.”

“But because the policy would go to Amanda, you had more work to do, right?”

“Right, dad,” Alanna said. “I convinced him that I knew how to get Amanda out of the picture.”

“It was brilliant,” John said. “I really didn’t love Amanda or her slut daughters at that point. The bitch denied me a son. That was the last straw. So when Alanna proposed her plan, I agreed.”

“You killed your daughters.”

“No,” John objected. “Technically, Amanda did. And as for the three younger ones, they are probably still alive. They would still be kind of young.”

“I think I am going to be sick,” Ed said as he got to his feet. “I should go to the police with this.”

“That would not be wise, dad. If you did that, you, me, and John would all go to jail. Who would care for Johnny?”

Ed was unable to think of a clean way out. Shaking with frustration, he began to cry.

“Easy, Ed,” John said comfortingly. “I know this is a shock. Just take it slow.”

“Yeah, dad,” Alanna agreed. “Go back to New York and take care of things there. I will call you in a few days.”

“But your daughters, John. What about them? Don’t you care where they are?”

“I know you feel bad, Ed,” John replied calmly. “Just remember. I wanted a son. I already told you that I didn’t love the little bitches. Why the hell would I care how they ended up?”

“Go back to New York, Ed. Keep managing my estate like you have been and no one needs to know that I am still alive.”

—–

“Uncle Ed,” Amy prodded. “You called out to them?”

“Oh,” Ed said, snapping back to the present, “right. I called out to them and they turned to see me. You may have already guessed, but it was your father with Alanna.”

Melinda and Elizabeth nodded, showing they had guessed. Amy was still having a little difficulty getting over her shock.

“Daddy? But he died.”

“Apparently not, Amy,” Melinda said.

“Hmmm,” Amy said, thoughtfully, “so he arranged for mom to kill Chelly and Lany. Then he let Alanna kill mom and send us to……”

“Yes,” Elizabeth said, seeing that Amy could not continue. “So, Ed. You found out our father was still alive and they had duped you. Then what?”

“Well, they convinced me to not go to the police. I went back to New York and managed the estates. A month later, I was able to track down the men who transported you three to Thailand eight years ago. It was not easy to locate them. Unfortunately, they did not know which place bought you after he delivered you to the broker.”

“I spent another month searching the seedier bars in Bangkok and finally found you. Once I found you, I contacted some friends and arranged the escape. You know the rest. Here we are.”

“So,” Melinda asked, “what next?”

“Well,” Ed replied, “I am concerned about you three. You have all been through some serious trauma, both mental and physical. I know from the bartender back there, that you had been used by that horse. I would like you to see a surgeon and see if we can get some of that physical damage corrected.”

“Huh?”

“Well, the bartender mentioned that you were going to be replaced because you were not tight enough to satisfy the customers. That says, to me, that your bodies are damaged. I have the money to give you as much care as you would like. I know this is probably embarrassing, but you deserve better.”

Amy shook her head.

“It is not embarrassing, Uncle Ed,” Amy said. “I don’t know what it would take to embarrass me, but it is more than that. O do not know about Liz and Mel, but I will accept your offer. I know that I could use some ‘tightening’ down there.”

Melinda and Elizabeth were not as at ease about it, but they were nodding. Neither of them had any illusions. They were, for lack of better words, ‘damaged goods’. Surgery would help with that. Knowing that the money came from an estate that, technically, belonged to their father, made it even better.

“After that is done and you have recovered,” Ed continued, “I have a request to ask of you.”

“What is it,” Amy asked. “After getting us back home and taking care of us, I think I am willing to do practically anything for you.”

Ed spent a minute looking out the airplane window. Heaving a deep sigh, he looked back at the girls.

“I would like you three to kill Alanna.”

—–

“Okay,” Amy said with a smile.

“What,” Elizabeth asked, aghast. “Amy, wait a minute. Do you know what you are agreeing to? He just asked us to kill someone.”

“Yes,” Amy agreed, the smile still on her face, “he did. He asked us to kill the person who got mommy to kill Chelly and Lany; the person who, in fact, killed mommy and arranged to have us spend the last few years getting raped and fucking a horse in some filty bar.”

Amy’s smile was now gone. In its place was a look that scared her sisters. Amy’s calm acceptance of even the worst indignities forced on them had convinced the older two that Amy was almost retarded. Now, they saw that it was a defense mechanism. She had sort of slept through the horrors of the last few years, accepting it because there was no other choice.

Now, their youngest sister was awake. In her posture and expression, they saw none of the slow-witted acceptance to which they were accustomed. Elizabeth wondered if this was a good thing.

“Amy,” Elizabeth said, “I think…..”

“No, Liz,” Amy cut off. “We are done with that. The woman who stole our family is out there. Ed, our dear Uncle Ed, has rescued us and given us the means to reclaim our lives. In return he is asking us to avenge our dead mother and sisters. I, for one, think we should do it.”

“I did not,” Amy continued, “hear anything that leads me to believe that he is forcing us to do this, so, if you and Mel do not want to do it, have your surgery and move on with your lives. Me? I am going to do this. The one problem I have is that I have no real skills with which to pull it off.”

“I think I can help with that,” Ed said. “I have lots of friends. One was a navy seal and another was with the rangers. If you are willing to put in the time, they can train you to do this.”

Amy was all smiles. There was now a cheerfulness radiating from her that gave her sisters mixed feelings.

“I’m in,” Amy said. “About how long do you think it will take to train me?”

“Train us, you mean,” Melinda added with a sigh. “I cannot let you do this on your own, Amy. I’m in, too.”

“Fuck,” Elizabeth said with a sigh of her own. “Looks like the three stooges are reuniting. Count me in, too, Uncle Ed.”

“Excellent. Now remember, girls. Until you actually go to kill her, you can back out and I will not be disappointed in you at all. I have had a guilty conscience for these last eight years. I do not want you to go through that.”

“Not just her,” Amy said.

“Huh,” Ed asked.

“We are not just going to kill Alanna,” Amy clarified. “When we go to do it, I will kill daddy as well. He must pay as well. He is not blameless. He will die with her. Only their son will be spared. He, alone, is innocent.”

Elizabeth and Melinda were now scared. This was a side of Amy no one had ever seen. In the past, they had always been able to control her. Melinda was pretty sure, now, that Amy had let herself be controlled. They agreed with her thinking, but neither of them had ever seen her this determined.

“Yeah,” Melinda said. “Dad has to die as well. He is just as guilty as your daughter.”

“Okay,” Ed said hesitantly. “Who will care for John Jr?”

“Well,” Amy said, “if I have a clear understanding of the situation, he is almost 8 years old. You never did tell us how long it would take to train us, but I can wait. If we wait until he is in high school, say 15 years old, he will be more self-sufficient. As such, his caring half-sisters would likely be able to take care of him.”

Elizabeth was beginning to worry about her sister’s plan. Seven years? Amy wanted to wait 7 years to get her revenge?

“Wait a minute, Amy,” Elizabeth said. “You are talking about waiting 7 years. Just what kind of training are you planning on getting?”

“Mercenary training, Liz. I also want you two to learn martial arts. Think about it. If we went now, what fun could we have? You know nothing about torturing someone. You could accidentally kill them before we were satisfied.”

“When we go to kill them,” Amy continued, “I want to make them feel the pain mom, Chelly, and Lany felt. I want them to experience what we did. If I can manage it, I want daddy to be raped by a horse, just like you, me, and Mel.”

“Wow,” Melinda said, in awe of her little sister. “Amy. What happened to you?”

“What do you mean, Mel?”

“All the time we were in that bar, you just did as you were told. You never did anything without instructions. What happened?”

“We’re free, Mel. That is what happened. While we were there, I did what I had to to get by. You and Liz fought and got beaten. Do you remember that mother and her daughter that came to the bar seven years ago?”

“You mean the flight attendant and her daughter?”

“Yes. The daughter was told to fuck one of the patrons and she refused. Remember? The mother tried to intervene when they started beating the girl. What happened to the mother?”

“I remember,” Liz said. “They strung her up by her ankles and used a 2-man saw to cut her in half.”

“Right,” Amy said with a sad smile. “I learned that night that it was not worth fighting. You and Mel got beaten by the other girls if you showed initiative. You got beaten by the men if you did not service them. My way kept me from receiving any beatings. I tried to tell you before.”

“I remember,” Mel said, realizing that Amy was right.

“I still had to do all the sex things you two did, but I was not in too much physical pain over it.”

“I see,” Melinda replied. “And now that we are free, you don’t need to be all meek and mild. Is that it?”

“Partly,” Amy replied. “Another part, the biggest part, is the fact that I want revenge on the people that put us there. Until that is done, I cannot move on with my life. The problem is that, right now, I am in no condition to exact my revenge.”

Ed, listening to the girls’ conversation, had to agree with Amy’s logic. They were not ready to do anything about John and Alanna. He was not sure that Elizabeth and Melinda could wait the amount of time Amy wanted, but that was another question.

“Ok, girls,” he said. “We are almost to Tokyo. We will have a three-hour layover there. I am going to make some calls. One will be to a surgeon I know in Beverly Hills that can give you three the surgery you want. The others will be to those friends of mine that I mentioned. When we get you healed up, we will decide what to do.”

With that, the conversation ended. The girls sat in silence for the rest of the trip, each contemplating their own future.

—–

Four days later……

Elizabeth and Melinda were alone in the hotel room. They had been in the hotel room for two days and Amy had been about to go stir crazy. Ed agreed to go with her so they went to get some food rather than call down for room service…..again. This was the first time the older sisters had been able to talk privately since Ed rescued them.

“Melinda,” Elizabeth said to her sister, “what do you think about Amy, now?”

Melinda had to think about that. Their younger sister had certainly changed since their escape. There was a hard edge to her that neither sister had ever seen. Melinda thought she was hiding something.

“I don’t know,” Melinda replied. “I get the feeling that she is hiding something. Seeing how she has changed, I wonder how long she has been hiding it.”

“I know. I keep thinking back to that conversation on the plane. Didn’t you notice something odd when we were talking? When she was talking about killing Alanna and Dad?”

“Um, not really. I was pretty much in shock. I mean, I had never seen her act that way.”

“Yeah,” Elizabeth said patiently, “but I am talking about when she was talking about the training. She said she wanted us – you and me – to get martial arts training. She said we knew nothing about torturing people. Again, she was referring to you and me. What do you think about that?”

“Huh? Are you sure? She could have been talking about all three of us.”

“No. Her exact words were ‘I also want you two to learn martial arts….you know nothing about torturing someone….you could accidentally kill them before we were satisfied.’ Does that sound like she was including herself?”

“Hmmm. Now that you mention it, I think I do remember that. And you are right. It does not sound like she was including herself.”

“Which leads me to believe,” Elizabeth continued, “that you are right. She is hiding something. The question that concerns me now is this: do we really want to open Pandora’s Box and find out what it is she is hiding?”

“Maybe we should talk to Ed. See if he knows anything. She has stuck to his side like glue since we got on that plane in Bangkok. The only time she is away from him is when either of them are going to the bathroom or taking a shower.”

“No. I think we should ask her straight out when they get back. It may be nothing. We might be imagining the whole thing. You know how paranoid we got back there.”

“You’re right,” Melinda replied. “It might be nothing. Okay. We will ask her when they get back.”

“When we get back,” Amy asked as she and Ed entered the room. “You were talking about a ‘her’ so that leads me to believe you meant me. What do you want to ask me?”

Melinda blushed as she realized that she and Elizabeth no longer had a choice. Over the last 4 days, they had seen a side of Amy they had never encountered. She was sharp; frightfully sharp. She would know if they tried to lie to her. Melinda did not understand it, but Amy seemed to have a built-in lie detector.

“Well, Amy,” Melinda said, realizing that now was as good as any time to broach the subject, “we were wondering about something you said on the plane. You said that we needed to learn martial arts and we knew nothing about torturing someone. You weren’t including yourself, were you?”

“No,” Amy said with a sigh. “I wasn’t.”

“You know martial arts,” Elizabeth asked incredulously. “Where did you learn that?”

“Not just martial arts,” Amy replied. “I have been trained to fight bare-handed, with knives, with swords, and with handguns. You may not remember, but for the first four years we were in Thailand, I never saw you. I was too young for them to put on stage so they trained me in other ways.”

“Why,” Ed asked, intrigued.

“To protect the girls. There was fierce rivalry among the seedier bars there. One bar would often steal girls from another bar. With two few guards to fight off the more serious attempts, they wanted me – and a few other girls trained like me – to wait for an opening and then strike. Once we killed those who took us, we were to return the other girls to the bar.”

“They believed you would do that?”

“They did,” Amy said. “And to be honest, I would have. The girls at our bar were, if not treated well, treated better than any of the other bars in the area. Had the girls been found on the street with no one to look after them, they would have been fair game to anyone strong enough to hold them still. Deaths and physical damage were less frequent at our bar.”

“Don’t get the wrong idea, though. The owners didn’t do it for love of the girls. The girls were just merchandise. The point was to take care of the merchandise. It is expensive to replace the girls. New girls have to be broken and retrained. That takes time and a girl being broken and retrained brings no money into the bar while costing the bar in meals and room.”

“No,” Amy continued. “They wanted us alive and well so we could draw money. That girl that died the night you rescued us? She shouldn’t have. There was no one to replace her. The bartender will get punished for that…..not to mention the men who killed her.”

“They would punish the bartender and the patrons? How?”

“The bartender would be killed and the patrons that killed the girl would be castrated. If someone really offended the owner, an example was made.”

“What kind of example?”

“One guy received a sex-change operation against his will. He was then sent to another of the owner’s bars and broken. Last I heard, he was servicing customers like the rest of the girls.”

“Wait a minute,” Elizabeth said. “I never heard anything about that. How do you know all this?”

“Like I said,” Amy replied. “I was trained to protect the girls. I was one of the few to carry out tortures and executions on those that abused the other girls. I was there when the guy got his sex-change operation.”

“It’s SRS,” Melinda said.

“What?”

“It is not called a sex-change operation, anymore,” Melinda answered with a smile. “The political correctness brigade now call it SRS, which stands for sex reassignment surgery.”

“Who gives a fuck,” Elizabeth demanded, exasperated. “You were killing people over there, Amy?”

“Yes.”

“How could you?”

“They told me that if I didn’t, they would kill you two. The choice was easy. And these men were scum. In the plane, I mentioned the mother who was cut in half because she tried to stop the customers from beating her daughter. The men who did that were the first men I killed.”

“It was a year after the incident. Apparently the men realized that they crossed the line and fled before the owner caught them. Well, eventually, they were caught. I had been training on the use of throwing knives and my trainer had me use these men as targets. By that time, I was good. When I was finished, there were 12 to 15 knives in each of the four men.”

Elizabeth was shocked. It was like hearing someone talk about someone else. There was no remorse. That, Elizabeth thought, was the worst part. There was no remorse at all for the killings Amy had performed.

“How many,” Elizabeth asked.

“Ehh?”

“How many men have you killed?”

“Ahhh. I have killed 247 men.”

“And women,” Ed asked. “I know that women there can be brutal as well.”

“True,” Amy said, “but we didn’t kill the women. They were sent to a different bar and one of that bar’s girls was brought to our bar. They couldn’t put someone who had killed one of our girls in with the rest of the girls. The offender wouldn’t last one night.”

“So, why do you want your sisters to get training?”

“I know that, alone, I could get in there and do the job, but I want to share this with them. To do that, they need to be able to protect themselves in case things don’t go as planned. I can wait while they get the training. I will go through it as well to add to the training I have already had.”

The older sisters could say no more. They knew they would need time to process all that their sister had said.

“Anyway,” Amy added, “that is for later. First on my agenda is to get my body fixed up. I know I am probably being narcissistic, but I want my pussy repaired, if possible. Then after recovering from that, I will look at whatever training your friends can offer.”

Ed looked at the older girls and smiled at the nods they gave him. He understood. Elizabeth was the oldest, but she was still only 20 years old. Their bodies had been seriously abused and if there was any way to correct any of that, he wanted to help them get it corrected.

—–

Four years later…..

Phillip Amsted looked around at all the casings and began to pick them up. The girls had used a lot of ammunition, but they were making some real progress. They still had a long way before they caught up with their younger sister, but, then again, so did everyone else Phillip knew.

Amy was something beyond his understanding. She was only 21 but handled knives, guns, and practically any weapon better than anyone he knew. She had even taught him a few things, though he hated to admit it.

She could, for example, hit a man-sized target at almost 200 meters without a scope. With a scope, her maximum range was close to 2000 meters. She had impeccable timing as well. She had shown him a trick he was dying to show Ed. Ed was one of the best sharpshooters Phillip had ever known, even if the old guy rarely went shooting these days.

“Alright, girls,” he said to Melinda and Elizabeth, “help me pick up this brass and then we will get back to the barracks.”

The girls cheerfully agreed. They had done well today and they knew it. It was, however, a hot and sticky day and a shower back at the barracks was just what they wanted.

The barracks were just that: barracks. A decommissioned military base in South America had been purchased by Ed and his friends for just this kind of training. They (the friends and the girls) could do whatever they wanted without fear of ‘authorities’. They had had some difficulty when they first arrived but after Amy was set loose on the squatters, there had been no more trouble.

Amy was not with the older girls. They were not happy, but they knew that Amy had more than extra previous training going for her. She had talent.

It did not matter what these men showed Amy. Within minutes, she was able to do it. After a couple of weeks, she was able to perform at the same level of expertise shown by their trainers. After a couple of months, the trainers were struggling to keep up with her.

Frankly, if Amy hadn’t been so sweet about the whole thing, the older girls would have been jealous. They still were, a bit, but Amy never rubbed it in their faces. She never bragged or even talked about her training. If the trainers didn’t talk where Melinda and Elizabeth could hear them, the older girls would never know anything about their sister’s training.

Amy never shirked her duties. From the minute they got there, she was helping out in any way she could. She never waited for anyone to ask her for something. She was always offering assistance.

As far as the older girls could tell, Amy’s behavior had two major side effects. First, Amy was the first person to be trusted with complicated, dangerous tasks. The men respected her. Second, her extra activities had a major benefit of making her supremely physically fit.

Amy, though she still had her petite form, was stronger than most of the men in the area. She could now run 30 miles without stopping. Melinda and Elizabeth pooped out after 10.

The older girls knew that they were never going to be as good as Amy was with these kinds of activities. Their satisfaction, however, came from the fact that, despite their inability to keep up with Amy, they were surpassing their trainers in many areas.

The one area, they still had difficulty with was marksmanship. Guns were still a problem. They were good, but they wanted to be better. That was why they pushed Phillip to bring them out to the range every day.

“Damn, girls,” Phillip said, startling Melinda from her thoughts as they finished picking up the casings and started back to the barracks, “I don’t know how much more I can teach you. You have come a long way in only 3 months.”

“Yeah,” Elizabeth said, “but we still aren’t as good as Amy.”

Phillip lost his smile and came to a halt.

“Listen,” he said as he turned to the girl. “I don’t want to disappoint you, but it will be very difficult, if not impossible to become as good as her with a gun. I have never, and I mean NEVER, seen anyone as good as she is.”

“It is good to want to be like her,” he continued as they resumed their jog back to the barracks, “but do not beat yourself up because you aren’t. You two are still better than 90% of the people on this base. When I said there wasn’t much more I could teach you, it was because you are as good as I am.”

“But it is not just guns with Amy. It is everything. She is like a one-woman army.”

“I know what you mean,” Phillip said with a chuckle. “To be honest, some of the trainers are afraid of her. They think that if they piss her off, she could kill them.”

“I don’t think she could do somethi…..”

“She could,” Phillip said, cutting Elizabeth off mid-sentence. “She never shows it, but there is a darkness in her. There is a purpose driving her and I pity anyone who gets in her way.”

Melinda and Elizabeth just looked at each other. They knew the motivation behind Amy’s actions. They couldn’t, however, tell anyone. Ed had been very specific on that point. There was no point in putting anyone else at risk.

As they crested the hill and looked down into the area surrounding the barracks, Phillip realized he might get his wish. Ed was here. Amy should be able to show him her trick.

“C’mon, girls,” he said with a smile. “It looks like your ‘Uncle’ is here. Let’s double-time it.”

Picking up the pace, they ran the last mile to the camp.

—–

“So,” Ed said to Mike Mitchell, the lead trainer and facilitator of this camp, “you think the girls are ready?”

“Ready,” Mike asked. “I do not know about that. You four have been as tight-lipped as anyone I have ever met when it comes to why they needed the training. what I do know is that there is nothing more we can teach them.”

“The older ones, Elizabeth and Melinda, could stand toe-to-toe with any special forces soldier in America. They have superior ability with guns and knives. They are proficient in three….no four schools of martial arts and as far as strategic planning is concerned, they are better tacticians than anyone else I know. Well, with one exception.”

“And what about Amy,” Ed asked.

“She is the exception. For the last year, she has been training us, not the other way around.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Afraid not, Ed,” Mike said. “That girl is kind of scary.”

“You are not the first to feel that, Mike.”

“Are you sure you cannot tell me what is going on? I am genuinely worried about Amy. She has something driving her and whatever it is, if there is someone in her way, they will suffer dearly.”

“I am sorry, Mike. That is their secret. I cannot say more.”

“No problem, Ed,” Mike replied with a smile. “I am just their trainer. You pay well and don’t place any restrictions on how we do our job.”

“I thought you were here,” Phillip huffed and puffed as he entered the room.

“Hi, Phil,” Ed replied with a smile. “You look all out. What’s wrong?”

“I just ran a mile with a 50-pound pack on my back. That’s what’s wrong. And let me tell you something. If either of you tell those girls I was this bad off, I will kill you.”

“Trying to show off for the girls, Phil,” Mike asked with a grin on his face. “That’s just sad. Remember. You are twenty years older than they are.”

“Fuck. I know that, but they weren’t even sweating hard.”

“See what I mean, Ed,” Mike asked, turning back to his employer. “They may not be ready, but they have had everything we can give them.”

“Oh, by the way,” Phillip interrupted, “is Amy back yet, Mike? I have something I want her to show you.”

“Yeah. She, Brent, Tony, and Rick all got back three hours ago. I think she was going to take a shower and a nap.”

“Great. I will be right back.”

Phillip ran to the barracks and gasped – just as he always did – when he saw Amy in the barracks. The girl never wore clothes indoors. Outside, she was never without gear that would help her hide in her surroundings. He shouldn’t have been surprised. The girl had no modesty.

She was beautiful. She had beautiful 32-C breasts and hair down to her ass. She may be only 5′2″, but she had a figure most women would kill for. Her physical activities, though rigorous, had not distorted her form, making her look like a female bodybuilder.

“Amy,” Phillip whispered into the sleeping girl’s ear. “It is time to ge…..”

Further discussion was lost as Phillip staggered back from a vicious blow that dislocated his nose.

“Oh, Phillip,” exclaimed Amy as she jumped up from bed and rushed to help him. “I am sorry. Oh, it looks like I broke your nose. Just a sec….”

Without giving him a chance to object, she placed her hands on either side of his nose and with a quick jerk, set it right. Phillip blanked out for a second as the pain overwhelmed him. While he was taking a second to recover, Amy got dressed. She knew he would never disturb her rest if she wasn’t needed for something.

“What can I do for you,” she asked, seeing that he was coming around again.

“Ugh. Yeah. Your ‘Uncle’ Ed is here. I was wondering if you could show him and Mike that trick you showed me the other day.”

“Trick?”

“Yeah. The coin trick.”

“Well, it is not really a trick, Phillip, but I could show them if you like.”

“Excellent. Then get…..oh. You are dressed. Then come with me.”

“Um. Ok.”

The two headed back and, after a minute, arrived at HQ.

“I see you woke her up,” Mike said. “Dislocated your nose, did she? And here I thought you had learned after the last time.”

“Shut up. Just come outside with us. You gotta see this.”

The three men and Amy went outside. Phillip gave Amy his gun and turned to Mike.

“Mike, you got a quarter?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Let me see it,” Phillip demanded, holding out his hand.

“Ok,” Mike said agreeably as he handed the quarter over.

“Call it, Ed. Heads or tails.”

“Um….heads.”

Without pausing, Phillip flipped the coin high into the air, watching as it flipped.

BANG!!

“WHAT THE FUCK,” exclaimed Mike as he jumped from the noise.

“Just this,” Phillip replied as he picked up the coin. “Take a look.”

“There is a hole in it,” Ed replied, stating the obvious.

“No kidding. But look. You can tell by the indent around the hole that the bullet struck the ‘heads’ side.”

“Dumb luck,” Mike said. “Yes, it is impressive that she can shoot a hole through a spinning coin, but hitting the called side? That has to be luck.”

“Try it again, then,” Phillip goaded.

“Okay,” Mike replied as he pulled another quarter from his pocket. “Tails this time.”

He flipped the coin high into the air and, realizing what was to come, quickly covered his ears.

BANG!!

“Damn,” Mike said as he picked up the coin. “Tails this time. Could still be luck, but why don’t you think so?”

“Yesterday, Amy and I went through a roll of quarters repeating this trick. 40 quarters. She hit the right side every time.”

“What does that mean,” Ed asked.

“Ed,” Mike said, “it means that her timing is perfect. Her eyes are right on as well. If she can see the flipping coin and time it so the bullet hits the right side as it is turning over and over, well, I have never seen anything like it.”

“Phil,” Mike said, “I think we are done here, for now. I have had reports from all the other guys and Melinda and Elizabeth are as good as we can make them. You agree with that?”

“I do.”

“Good. Then go tell the girls to pack up their gear. They will be leaving with Ed the day after tomorrow.”

“Sure thing, Mike,” Phillip answered as he left.

“That goes for you, two, little lady,” Mike said as he turned to Amy.

He paused for a moment as he looked at her. She was looking to the east, not saying anything. She was motionless, but both Mike and Ed could feel the tension pouring from inside her.

“Hey, Amy,” Ed said gently, getting her attention, “go pack your things. We will be leaving soon.”

“You bet, Uncle Ed,” she said as she jumped up and gave him a big hug.

She suddenly looked down and, noticing the gun still in her hand, gave the gun to Mike.

“Can you give that back to Phillip? Thanks. Oh. And please tell him I am sorry about his nose.”

She then turned and ran for the barracks. After watching her disappear, the two men went back inside to have a beer.

—–

Los Angeles, CA – two weeks later…..

Ed paced the room. Since getting back from the training camp, the apartment had been a scene of constant tension. Ed had suspected it before, but now he knew that Amy was calling the shots. There were moments when she was a sweet girl, just like when she hugged him at the camp, but they were few and far between. They also rarely lasted more than a few minutes.

The two older girls seemed content to let their little sister lead. It was no wonder, really. She was the smartest and strongest of the three. They all wanted revenge on their father and Alanna for the murder of their mother and older sisters, but only Amy seemed to have any ideas on how to accomplish it.

This was not the reason Ed was pacing. The reason for his pacing was that Amy had disappeared. Since arriving in Los Angeles almost two weeks before, the three girls had been content to allow Ed to take them anywhere they needed to go. They had all been together since arriving in the city.

This, however, must have been irritating Amy. When Ed, Elizabeth, and Melinda awoke this morning, they found a note from Amy on the table. She had been having difficulty thinking with everyone all around her, so she went for a walk to clear her head. There had been no mention of when she would be back.

It was now 14 hours later, 9:00pm. Ed was worried sick that something had happened. The girls still had no cell phones so there was no way to get in touch with her until she came back. Ed was torn between worrying about her well-being and the well-being of anyone who pissed her off. She had shown that she had a temper. The scary thing was that she was never out of control. Even when supremely pissed off, she was always in full control of her actions.

“Ed,” Melinda said, “you’re pacing again. Come and sit down. Worrying about her is not going to get her to come back any sooner. She’ll come back when she has found the solution to her problem.”

“Problem? What problem?”

“I don’t know.”

“Neither of us do,” Elizabeth added. “Amy just does this. When something is bothering her, rather than talk about it, she goes……what do the Australians call it, Mel?”

“Walkabout”

“Yeah. She goes walkabout.”

“And how long is she usually gone?”

“It varies,” Melinda said. “Sometimes it is hours, sometimes it is days. In the camp, she had Mike all worried once because she was gone for three weeks.”

“Three weeks? Jesus! What did she eat?”

“Whatever she could. Berries, nuts, bugs, whatever animal she could kill and cook. Hell, she shocked the camp when she came back because she was carrying this jaguar. It was a full-grown male that weighed around 220 pounds.”

“I remember that,” Elizabeth said with a chuckle. “It scared the hell out of Mike when he was taking the ropes off it and it snapped at him.”

“Yeah, and Amy just grabs Jim’s gun and puts three bullets in the animal’s head.”

“Why didn’t she kill it before,” Ed asked.

“I didn’t know how long it would take me to get back to camp,” Amy said as she entered the room. “I didn’t want the meat getting gamy. I had carried that damn oversized cat for six days. It was a great workout. The only annoying part was that I would have to set it down and brain it every six hours or so to keep it unconscious.”

“Amy,” Ed asked as he sunk into a chair, relief washing over him, “where have you been?”

“I needed to clear my head so I took a walk.”

“THAT WAS ALMOST 15 HOURS AGO,” Ed shouted, his anger rising.

“I am sorry, Uncle Ed,” Amy said contritely. “I just had this thought that had been bugging me for a few days and whenever I thought I had it, it would get lost.  I just needed time to figure this out.”

“And did you?”

“Yep. It was a question I have been meaning to ask you.”

“Really? What is it?”

“Do you still have the tapes your daughter made twelve years ago?”

“Yes,” Ed said with a frown. “I am sorry, but I have not destroyed them, yet.”

“Actually, that is a good thing. I need to see the one with your daughter killing mom.”

“What,” asked Melinda. “Why?”

“I understand if you two do not want to see it again,” Amy said to Melinda and Elizabeth, “but I need to ask Ed about something in it. It will only take a few minutes, so if you want to wait in the other room, go ahead.”

“No,” Elizabeth said. “I don’t know what it is you are curious about, but I can deal with it.”

“Me too,” Melinda said.

Ed, looking at the girls, sighed. He hated letting them see their mother’s pain. The poor woman had been stripped of all dignity and had been brutally tortured before death claimed her. As far as Ed could see, there was nothing worth watching that. One look at Amy’s face, however, was enough to tell him that she would not let this go.

Sighing again, he got up and went to his room and got the tape from the safe. Returning to the living room, he put the tape in the player and turned on the TV. At least, he thought, there is no sound on this one. The movie had only played for a few minutes, however, when Amy asked him to pause it.

“I thought I remembered this,” Amy said triumphantly. “Uncle Ed, how many women are on the screen?”

“Three,” Ed said thoughtfully as he looked at the screen. “Somehow, I had forgotten this.”

“Who is the woman helping your daughter?”

Ed was shook. Amy had seen the video only once……four years ago in that bar in Bangkok. She had never forgotten the details. Looking at the figure of the second torturer, he knew who it was from the size of the woman.

“Her name is Rita Caldwell. She was my daughter’s best friend. They kind of drifted apart after this occurred. I do know that Alanna sends Rita $10,000 a month as a kind of thanks for the help Rita gave back then.”

“Where does this Rita live?”

“I do not know.”

“Can you find her?”

“I can. You want her killed?”

“Um……no. Not yet, anyway. I just want to know where she is. She has information I want.”

“Oh? What is it?”

“The identity of everyone who was there that day,” Amy answered. “When they take mom to the kitchen, Rita and your daughter are in the picture, but the picture moves. This means the camera is held by someone. I want to know who held it. They are as guilty as Rita and Alanna.”

“How many people are you planning on killing?”

“So far? Only three; Rita, Alanna, and daddy. If I can find the cameraperson, I may hire him or her to run the technical side of filming our fun.”

“And this fun…..what do you have planned?”

“Before I tell you, Uncle Ed, I have another question. Do you want to be there?”

“”I do not know, Amy,” Ed said. “I really do not know.”

“Ok,” Amy said. “I was planning on you watching little Johnny while we do the dirty work. I was pretty sure you would not want to be there. As for the rest, it is quite simple.”

“We will take Rita first. We will not kill her for a while. We will keep her so Alanna can watch her friend die. You mentioned that daddy and Alanna always go to an island in the Caribbean around the end of November each year, right?”

“Yes. The last week of November.”

“And how big is this island?”

“It is a decent size. About half of one square mile.”

“Ok. That is about two months from now. I want Rita found. We will take her in the second week of June and then go to the island. You will stay here. After we take Rita, I will call you and you will remove your daughter’s ‘viewing privileges’ from the bank account. If she is checking it on a regular basis, it will not be long before she calls you to get an explanation.”

“You will go down there to talk to them about some investments you have planned. While you are there, you will try to get Alanna to allow you to spend an afternoon with your grandson. You two will go out on their boat. You did say they had a boat, right?”

“Yes. They have a yacht and a little fishing boat. The fishing boat is moored at the island year-round in the boathouse.”

“You can drive it,” Amy asked.

“I can.”

“Can you sail the yacht?”

“Yes. I did a lot of sailing when I was younger.”

“Even better. Then tell Alanna you want to go fishing with Johnny. She may be hesitant, but do whatever you can to convince her. Once you and Johnny are away, Mel, Liz, and I will strike. We will enter the house and use tranquilizer darts to put Alanna and daddy out. We will move them to a new location and I will call you, using Alanna’s phone.”

“You will,” Amy continued, “return to the island, saying that an emergency had come up and daddy and Alanna had to return to Italy. A helicopter from the mainland had picked them up and they took a plane home. They asked you to sail the yacht home as it would give you more time with Johnny.”

“Will I see John or Alanna again?”

“That,” Amy replied, “is up to you. If you want to watch her die, we can work something out with Johnny.”

“Uh, no,” Ed said. “I do not know if I could handle watching her die in front of me.”

“If you would like, we can film it for you.”

“You weren’t planning on filming it?”

“No,” Amy answered. “This is a one-time thing. For revenge. I will not need to watch it later.”

“Ok. I can find a film crew for you,” Ed said.

“Were you the one who found the film crew for Alanna?”

“Yes.”

“Did you know that they are all dead?”

“WHAT?!?”

Amy smiled. It was good to know that she was right. Ed may have been involved in the beginning, but when he turned his back on the whole affair, he didn’t look back.

“Everyone associated with the event died over eleven years ago. There was a big investigation. Apparently, this guy named Chris Sorenson was arrested for drug trafficking. while he was in jail waiting for the trial, the police obtained a warrant and searched his home. They found a huge stash of cocaine, some child porn, and a couple of realistic-looking snuff films.”

“They found some notes about a job he had done 9 months earlier – editting a snuff project where a mother and her two daughters were killed on film – and an address book with the contact numbers of some of the people listed in the notes. Before they could ask Chris about it, though, he was found dead in his cell. The coroner’s report listed poison as the cause of death.”

“Running a check on the names in Chris’ address book, they found that several had been in the area at the time of the job and also had lengthy police records. They question all but two of the people. The two they could not question were dead. They had been killed within 36 hours of Chris Sorenson’s death. As a side note, one of the people killed was a famous chef that had been accused of cannibalism (never proven) and as a result lost her job in a restaurant in France.”

“The people they questioned knew of a job involving a mother and two daughters, but had no details. After polygraphs and lengthy questioning, the police assumed that either the job never took place or the people involved with it were dead.”

“I am only guessing, but your daughter probably knew about Sorenson’s drug habits. She might have had an informant on the police force and arranged Chris’ death after the arrest. She knew that after a drug arrest, a search warrant was likely and killed the other two people that were there that day. She probably spared Rita due to their friendship.”

Ed was stunned. He knew nothing about any of this. He would not, however, put it beyond Alanna to be that ruthless.

“It is possible,” he acquiesced. “How did you find out about all this?”

“I found a corrupt cop that had been involved with the investigation and fucked his brains out in return for information. He snuck the report out of storage for me and let me read it. That is part of why I am so late.”

“And the other part?”

“Well, on the way back to the hotel, I was attacked by some guys. I guess they thought that because I am so small, I would be an easy rape victim. They were wrong.”

“What happened?”

“They will live, but they may be in the hospital for a while. There were three guys. Two of them may need prosthetic legs. None of them will be able to father children. I made sure I burst their testicles before I called 911.”

“Anyway,” Amy said with a smile, “how long will it take you to track down Rita? I really want to talk to her.”

“Are you going to kill her too?”

“Yes. But depending on how helpful she is, I may be quick about it. My main targets are daddy and Alanna. They will be begging me to kill them before I am done. Rita, if she is helpful, will die quickly.”

“I will have her address by morning.”

“Excellent. After my fun tonight, I do not think it would be wise to stay very long. Those guys I mangled will be able to describe me and I do not want to have to deal with the police.”

“Agreed,” Ed said as he turned to make the first of many phone calls.

—–

Reno, NV – Six Weeks Later

Rita Caldwell was unhappy. The monthly check from Alanna was a week late. Having become dependent on the monthly income over the last 12 years, Rita was having to call her creditors and let them know that their money would be there, but it would be a few days late. She had been a good customer over the last several years so she doubted that there would be a problem. The only problem she had was the embarrassment.

She pondered this as she walked from the post office on her way home. She lived in a nice apartment, but she did not trust her neighbors. Because of this, she never had mail delivered to her apartment. While it was a small inconvenience to walk the two miles to the post office 6 days a week, she could use the exercise. She often stopped by during her morning jog. For the last week, however, the foul weather had prevented her from taking her morning run. Instead, she would use the treadmill in the community gym and walk to the post office in the afternoon.

It was a cold night and the snow was beginning to fall as she approached her front door. She went into her freezing apartment and immediately turned up the thermostat. It would soon be warm. She decided to take a warm shower. By the time she was done, the heat would be up.

She walked through her dark apartment stripping off her clothes as she went. Walking through the bedroom, she went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Sighing contentedly, she stepped under the spray of the warm water. She quickly scrubbed herself clean and spent the next 5 minutes soaking under the heavy spray, letting the warm water relax her muscles. Turning off the water, she stepped out of the shower and cursed. She had forgotten to put the towels away last night and, as a result, there were no towels in the bathroom.

Walking into the bedroom, she turned on the light and froze. There was someone sitting in a chair in the corner of the bedroom. Rita would have screamed but the gun the person held in her gloved hand, along with a clear indication that the she wanted Rita to be quiet, convinced Rita that screaming would be unwise. Instead, she stood there numbly as the woman rose from the chair, picked up a towel from the pile beside the chair, and tossed it to Rita.

“Wrap yourself in that,” the woman said, “and sit on the bed, Rita.”

“D-d-do I know you,” Rita asked with a stutter as the woman sat back down.

“Not yet,” the woman said, motioning at the towel with the gun. “Let me introduce myself. I am Amy.”

Rita picked up the towel, wrapped it around herself and sat down.

“How did you get in here?”

“I have many talents, Rita. Some, you may find interesting. Others, you would never want to see. One of my favorite talents is the ability to know when someone is lying to me. You will not lie to me. Right, Rita?”

“Huh?”

“I picked your lock and let myself in four hours ago. I have been sitting here waiting for you. I was expecting you to notice me when you got home, but I guess your shower took precedence. You have a lovely body, by the way. Now, answer my question. Are you going to lie to me?”

Rita was confused. This woman caught her completely off balance. She seemed pleasant; despite the gun.

“No,” Rita said. “I will not lie to you.”

“Excellent,” Amy said delightedly. “Now, I want you to tell me my name.”

“Huh?”

“You must like that word. Anyway, I feel that knowing the person you are talking to helps to calm you down. I must admit that you look quite perturbed. Well, to be honest, if I found an armed woman in my home, I would probably be perturbed, as well. But, I want you relaxed. I have some questions that need answers and I would like you to cooperate willingly. Now, to begin, tell me my name.”

“Amy,” Rita said. “You said your name is Amy.”

“Very good. Most people, when surprised, find it very hard to concentrate. I like that you were able to remember my name. But you still seem tense. Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?”

Rita knew what she would like. That gun was making her very nervous. It hinted at a world of bad things that could happen to her.

“Could you put the gun down?”

“I think I have a better solution,” Amy said with a smile.

Flipping the gun around so it was pointed at herself, Amy held the gun out to Rita.

“Why don’t you hold the gun? I know that were I in your position, I would be more relaxed if I held the weapon.”

Rita numbly took the gun. As the young woman sat down again, Rita kept looking from the woman in the chair to the gun in her own hand. Amazed at the stupidity of the young woman, Rita raised the gun and, pointing it at the young woman, pulled the trigger.

CLICK

“Oh,” Amy said. “I forgot to mention. That gun is not loaded. If you wanted to attack me with it, you would be better off using it as a club or throwing the damn thing at me.”

“Then why give it to me?”

“To give you the illusion of control. Like I said earlier, I am a woman of many talents. I do not need a gun to get you to cooperate.”

“And what if I told you that I have a gun?”

“For someone who was fixated on the damn thing, you really didn’t look at it, did you? That is your gun.”

Looking at the gun, Rita hissed in disgust as she realized the woman was not lying. It really was her gun. In an act of frustrated desperation, she threw the gun at the woman’s head as hard as she could.

“Predictable,” Amy said as she caught the gun and set it on the table. “Rita, this is entertaining as hell, but we are not getting anywhere. Sit your ass down and let’s talk.”

“Talk about what,” Rita asked grudgingly as she sat on the bed.

“Two people. John McInish and his wife, Alanna.”

“Alanna and John? Why do you want to talk about them?”

“Because my name is Amy McInish.”

It took a second for the name to sink in, but when it did, Rita knew she was in trouble. This girl was supposed to be whoring herself in Bangkok. That, or she should have been dead.

As her mind whirled and tried to process this information, Rita saw the young woman rise and walk toward her. Scrambling to back away, Rita slid off the bed. Falling backwards, she hit her head on the nightstand and knocked herself unconscious.

“Fuck,” Amy said. “Well, I was going to need to get her out of here anyway. Might as well be now.”

Amy dressed Rita in dark clothing and put her in the chair. Rita showed no signs of waking soon. Amy picked up the phone, carefully removed the bug, and dialed the number to a pay phone down the street.

“Hello? Yeah. Change of plans. Have the van out front of the building in three minutes. Yeah. We will go now. Ok. See you in a few.”

Amy replaced the bug in the phone and hung up. Taking a minute to search Rita’s purse, Amy found the unconscious woman’s address book. Flipping through it, she found entries for Rita’s mother, sister, and nieces. Smiling, Amy put the address book in her pocket and, picking Rita up out of the chair, left the apartment.

—–

“Wakey wakey,” a vaguely familiar voice said as cold water splashed Rita in the face, shocking her to full alertness.

The first thing Rita noticed was the chair. She was bound to it and found movement nearly impossible. The bindings were tight, but not terribly uncomfortable. Looking closer, she saw that whoever had bound her had taken precautions geared at preventing the bindings from cutting off circulation.

The second thing she noticed was that she was stark naked. The room was cool but not cold. Whoever had taken her was making an effort to keep her relatively comfortable, if immobile. In fact, the only uncomfortable part of this, so far, were the floodlights shining in her face. She could tell there were other people in the room, but the bright lights made it impossible to identify them.

“I’m sorry,” the familiar voice said as the floodlights went out. “Were those making it hard for you to see? Don’t worry. With them out, your eyesight will return to normal in a minute and then we will make the introductions.”

Rita’s eyes adjusted to the light and she finally recognized the speaker as Amy, the woman who had broke into her apartment.

“How did I get here? Why am I naked? Why am I bound to this chair?”

“Whoa, Rita,” Amy said with a chuckle. “One at a time. I brought you here. Your attempt to flee from me resulted in you knocking yourself out when you fell and hit your head on the nightstand. We were not finished with our discussion about Alanna and my father so I decided to advance the timetable. I was going to bring you here anyway, but you did me the favor of being unconscious while I transported you. No fighting that way.”

“You are naked because you soiled yourself during transport and I am currently washing your clothes. Do you have a habit of pissing yourself in your sleep?”

“No, but then again, I do not have a habit of being abducted.:

“Fair enough,” Amy said with another chuckle, one echoed by the other two occupants of the room. “Keep your head about you and this may go well for you. As well as possible, that is. To answer the last question, you were bound to that chair because the floor here is concrete and we did not want you lying on a cold hard floor.”

“Now that you are awake, I can remove the bindings. Before I do, however, I want you to promise that you will not attack me or do anything else equally stupid once you are released. Will you do that for me?”

“Yes,” Rita said with a nod.

Amy just stood there, tapping her foot. After a moment, Rita understood.

“Oh! I promise I will not attack you or do anything else.”

“Excellent,” Amy said as she moved to free Rita.

It took only moments, but during the process, Rita was sorely tempted to break her promise. Amy was in a position where Rita could have easily gotten the upper hand. As Amy finished and backed away, Rita cursed herself for not risking it.

“I am glad you kept your promise. Regardless of how it seemed, I was never vulnerable. Had you attempted something, I would have had to hurt you……badly. Neither of us wants that.”

“But…..you kidnapped me.”

“I did,” Amy admitted. “But I really would rather have your cooperation. The best way to do that, I think, is to let you know that I will not hurt you more than is absolutely necessary.”

“My cooperation?”

“Yes. In your apartment, I told you my name. What is it?”

“Amy.”

“And my last name?”

“Oh, god. You said your last name is McInish.”

“Correct. Now I told you I wanted to talk about Alanna and John McInish, right? Can you guess why I would come to you about this?”

Rita could guess. She was not really wanting to say it on the off chance that Amy did not know about Rita’s part in her mother’s death.

“Um, no. I have no idea.”

Amy shook her head and walked toward the older woman. In a move that Rita could not follow, Amy backhanded the woman hard enough to knock her out of the chair and halfway across the room.

“Geez, Amy,” one of the other women said. “Don’t break her jaw.”

“It’s not broken. Bruised maybe, but not broken.”

“Fuck,” Rita muttered. “What was that for?”

“While we were in your apartment, you said you would not lie to me. You just lied. Lying is one of the only things that really pisses me off. You know why I came to you. Hey, Mel, turn on that TV.”

The woman named Mel turned on a TV that Rita had not noticed. To Rita’s horror, she recognized the scene from the snuff film she had helped make 12 years earlier. She took her time getting back to the chair, trying to think of a way out of this.

“That,” Amy said, “is you – Rita Caldwell – and Alanna – then called Alanna McAllister – killing my mother. I have researched this video and I have the others made the same day, where you two made my mother kill my two older sisters.”

“Alanna did it. I only helped a little. I swear.”

“I know. That is why I am offering you this chance. I want your help in getting close to Alanna. I can do it on my own, but with you, it would be a little easier.”

“You’re not going to kill me?”

“Oh, yes,” Amy said with a smile. “I am going to kill you. The choice before you is not one where your actions will determine if you live or die. In this situation, your actions will determine how you die.”

“What are my options?”

“If you help me, I end it quick for you with a bullet in your brain. If you do not help me, I do to you what you did to my mother. I even have some new tricks to add to your performance. In other words, I can make it quick and relatively painless, or I can make you beg for death.”

“I will help you,” Rita quickly said, remembering the pain Amanda went through 12 years before.

“Smart woman,” Amy said. “Now, remember what I said about lying. If you hesitate or change your mind later, that will do what?”

“Really piss you off?”

“Right. That lie you told earlier was a small lie compared to lying in this. Punishment for lying this time would be extreme.”

“Lisa McDonald,” Amy said, reading from a small book she took from her pocket. “Danielle McDonald. Tabitha McDonald. Erika Winchell. Emily Horton.”

“What,” Rita asked, shocked that Amy had the names of her mother, her two sisters, and her two nieces. How do you know those names?”

“While you were passed out in the apartment, I stole your address book. After a little investigation, I discovered your family members. Should you try to back out of helping me, you will die the way my mother died, but not before you watch me destroy your family the same way. And they will know that you are the reason for their suffering.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Amy,” the woman named Mel said. “What is this?”

Neither Melinda, nor Elizabeth, knew how far Amy was willing to go with this. They hoped she wasn’t serious, but the changes in Amy left them wondering. This could get real bad, real quick.

“I would,” Amy said with a face that scared everyone in the room. “And I will if you give me reason to. If you cooperate, however, your body will be found with only a bullet hole in your head. No other signs of torture will be present, because that is the trade-off. You help me, and I will make it easier than you deserve.”

“What do I need to do?”

“When I brought you here,” Amy said, “we eluded the watchers Alanna has covering you. When we get you back, they will be wondering where you went. I am going to have Ed drop you off at home.”

“Watchers? Ed?”

“You know what happened to Chris Sorenson 11 years ago?”

“He was arrested on a drug charge and died in the county jail.”

“True, but there were suspicions raised about that. Two of his friends were also found dead within 36 hours of Sorenson’s death. You know what happened when you made that film. I know Sorenson helped you make it. I am guessing there were other people in the kitchen who did not make an appearance on film. My guess is those are the individuals found murdered. Abigail Mincer and Mary Healey were their names.”

Rita flinched as she recognized the names.

“Thank you for confirming it for me. It seems that Alanna did not trust anyone associated with those films. Chris died because Alanna had contacts in the police force. Because Chris kept a journal about his film projects – a journal that named Abigail and Mary – those women had to go, as well.”

“Then why didn’t she kill me?”

“Because you were friends? Because you were on tape with her? Maybe because she knew that you might be useful again in the future. You certainly would never speak about all this as you would be implicated as well. Whatever the reason, it is only enough to keep you alive. She still has you watched most of the time.”

“What does Ed have to do with all of this?”

“You know Ed,” Amy asked.

“Yes. He is Alanna’s father.”

“I think it is time to introduce the others,” Amy said, seemingly changing topics. “The one leaning against the door is my oldest remaining sister, Elizabeth…..”

“Hi,” Elizabeth said.

“……and the one helping with the TV is my other sister Melinda.”

“Hello,” Melinda said with a wave.

“Four years ago, Ed rescued us from some shithole in Bangkok. He felt bad about what his daughter did to us, but he recently found out something that made him actually do something about it. He found out that our father did not die 12 years ago, as he had suspected.”

“He found out about the doppelganger,” Rita said, knowingly.

“Only after he went to Italy and saw Alanna and my father living together. Anyway, after discovering that he helped kill three innocent people, he wanted to kill himself. Instead, he tracked us down in Bangkok and helped us escape.”

“So, what am I supposed to do?”

“Well, you have not received your monthly check, right?”

“How do you know?”

“We had Ed move the funds to a different account. Right now, Alanna is probably furious that her money is not there. You have not received your check because she cannot write checks. What you will do, is go back to your apartment with Ed. You will pack your things. I want it to look like you and Ed are going to take the money and run.”

“She’ll kill me.”

“No. She will not risk losing valuable banking information by killing the only two people who have it. She will not trust a lackey to get the information from Ed. They will capture Ed and take him to her. If you are with him, they will take you too.”

“I have reliable information telling me that Alanna and John are on their island in the Caribbean right about now. When you get down there, Ed will put off telling Alanna anything. He will make a deal to tell her everything after he and Johnny go fishing. They will take a small fishing boat.”

“Alanna will keep you close, believing there is something between the two of you, and try to get the information from you. You are my distraction. While she is busy with you, and the guards are busy with Ed, we will make our way onto the island, take out the guards, and enter the house.”

“Once we have Alanna and John under our control, we will finish with you, as painlessly as possible. If I have any reason to believe you have betrayed us, we will leave. We will then plot to recapture you, and make you watch your family members die in agony. Are we clear?”

“If I do this, you promise it will be only me who pays for what I did?”

“I promise,” Amy said. “Trust me. I do not like resorting to this bullying, but I have to see this through and anyone who stands in my way will regret it. I only hope that, in your next life, you are not so easily led by bad people. Now, let’s go.”

A moment later a woman entered with Rita’s clothes. They were warm and clean. Rita gratefully put them on. Following Amy, they left the room.

—–

An Island in the Caribbean (Near the British Virgin Islands) – 4 days later

Rita sat at a table looking out the window at the Atlantic. It was absolutely gorgeous. Looking to the west, she could see Dog Island. It was about three miles away. To the south, about 8 miles away, was the island of Anguilla and Long Bay Village. she and Ed had passed through there on their way to Alanna’s island home.

Amy had been dead on. Ed and Rita had been picked up almost as soon as they returned to Rita’s apartment. The men who drove them to the airport and flew with them to Anguilla island said nothing to their charges. Ed and Rita had only each other to converse with.

Ed also sat at the table, thinking about the situation. He knew the girls had been on Anguilla island before he and Rita had arrived. The girls had left for the airport immediately after Ed and Rita left for the apartment. By Ed’s estimation, they had arrived almost a day earlier. He knew they planned to rent a boat from someone in West End Village under the pretense of fishing off of Dog Island to the northwest.

Upon arriving at the island an hour before, Ed and Rita were shown to the patio, given drinks, and were told that Alanna would be with them shortly. Now that they were here, neither Ed, nor Rita were inclined to talk about anything. They simply sat looking out at the water.

“It’s beautiful,” Alanna said as she came out onto the patio, “isn’t it, dad?”

“It is,” Ed agreed, not looking at his daughter.

“Alanna,” Rita asked as she motioned to the island off to the west, “what is that island over there?”

“It is called Dog Island. There are no settlements, but it has frequent visitors as the fishing is very good over there.”

“I think I would like to try that,” Ed said with a smile.

“I think you would like it, too. John and Johnny certainly do.”

Alanna set a pitcher of orange juice on the table and sat down. She poured herself a drink and sat in silence for a minute.

“So,” John said as he came out onto the patio, “here we all are. Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

“Sure is, honey,” Alanna said with a smile.

“Anyway,” John said, “shall we get down to business?”

“Sure,” Rita said, “what business?”

“You don’t know,” Alanna asked, looking from her friend to her father and back. “I thought you two were seeing each other.”

“Only casually, Alanna,” Ed said.

“Then, I am sorry, Rita. I thought you knew. You did not receive your check and had not called me yet so I thought you were in on it, as well.”

“In on what?”

“The money is gone,” Alanna said. “Dad moved it. That is why you have not received your $10,000.”

“So, Ed,” John said, “where is it?”

“Safe.”

“Why did you move it, dad?”

“Well, I have not got much longer and I wanted to see my grandson. This seemed to be the best way to get an invitation. God knows that you have come up with one excuse or other every other time I have asked. Is Johnny here with you?”

“What do you mean when you say you haven’t got much longer?”

“I am dying. Cirrhosis. The doctor says 3-6 months. I was really hoping to spend some time with Johnny.”

“Don’t worry, Ed,” John said. “Johnny is here. He spent the night on Anguilla with a friend. They should be back in about an hour.”

“So,” Alanna said, “will you tell us where the money is?”

“This afternoon. I would like to go out with Johnny over to that island – Dog Island you called it? – and do some fishing.”

“He would like that. He loves fishing there.”

“Good,” Ed said. “Then when we get back, you can cook the fish we catch and after Johnny goes to bed, I will give you both the new banking information.”

John and Alanna looked at each other for a moment. Neither of them saw the harm in letting the dying man see his grandson. John was sure that, after verifying the information, he could kill his father-in-law. He would be doing the old fuck a favor, actually. Cirrhosis was a nasty way to die.

“Sure thing, Ed,” John said. “I am sure Johnny would like that.”

The four ate breakfast and, an hour later, Johnny came home. Johnny recognized his grandfather from some pictures Johnny had seen. The strange woman was an unknown; probably a friend of his grandfather’s.

“Good morning, Johnny,” Alanna said. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah, mom. It looks like I missed something.”

“Heh. Yeah. Your grandfather came down for a visit. He was hoping you would want to go fishing over at Dog Island.”

“Really? Great! I can use my new pole, right?”

“Sure,” John said with a smile. “It is yours, after all.”

“Did you want to come along, Rita,” Ed asked, trusting Amy’s intuition.

“Oh, dad,” Alanna said, proving Amy right, “I haven’t seen Rita for so long. Let her stay here so we ladies can catch up.”

“Yeah, Ed,” Rita said with a smile. “I am not crazy about fishing, anyway. You know that.”

“How about you, John?”

“Sorry, Ed. I have a ton of work to do. Maybe next time.”

“Working on your vacation? Sucks to be you.”

“Well, you know the saying, Ed. ‘No rest for the wicked.’ It’s the story of my life.”

The adults finished eating and Ed and Johnny left to go fishing. John, Alanna, and Rita watched as the two got in the motorboat and took off to the west.

“Ed loves fishing,” Rita said. “He is going to enjoy the hell out of this.”

“Rita,” Alanna said, “what the hell is going on? Are you fucking my father?”

“What? No. As Ed said, it is only casual.”

“And do you know anything about the money?”

“Only what he just told us.”

“Ok. Go sit in the living room. I am going to get us some coffee and will join you in a moment.”

“Not on the patio?”

“No. It is going to get hot out there real soon. I would rather not roast.”

Rita sat on the leather couch in the living room. It was a nicely decorated room. There was a suit of oriental armor standing in one corner of the room. There was a 52″ LCD TV. There was even a huge aquarium filled with exotic fish.

Sitting down on the couch, Rita wondered what was happening outside. Like Ed, she knew the girls were likely already in the area. On the drive back to the apartment five nights ago, Ed told her about the girls. All three of them were dangerous, but Amy was the leader. She repeatedly offered a chance for her sisters to leave, understanding that this was a risky proposition. Rita could tell that Amy frightened Ed. That girl was something terrifying when angered.

Alanna and John came into the living room with three cups of coffee. Sitting down, Alanna handed a cup to Rita as John took his and sat in a recliner. Rita was nervous about drinking the coffee, but she could not let Alanna know how scared she was. Smiling, Rita took a sip. It was good.

“This island is beautiful,” Rita said. “How big is it?”

“It is about half of a square mile,” Alanna said. “Not too big and not too small. This house was already here when we bought the island 7 years ago, but we practically had to tear it down and rebuild it. Right, John?”

“Yeah. And then the very next year, we came back to find all of the windows broken and the door off of it’s hinges.”

“What did you do?”

“We hired a private security service,” Alanna said. “They have an office in a building we put up on the other end of the island. They make sweeps every twenty minutes. There are four men on at all times. That way, if anything comes up, they can deal with it.”

“Is four enough?”

“Oh, yes,” John answered. “It is normally very quiet out here. That is why we bought it as a summer home. It gives us three months each year of peace and quiet. But mostly, they are unnecessary. They are more of a deterrent for young kids who want a place to party.”

“Anyway, Rita,” Alanna said, “how have you been doing? When did you start meeting my fath……”

John turned to his wife as she suddenly went silent. She was clutching her chest. Sticking from her left breast was a dart. Seeing it had to come from the direction of the kitchen, he turned in that direction just in time to see a young woman holding a dart gun. Before he could respond, he was hit in the groin with one of the darts. His bathrobe did little to protect his manhood as he was hit. To his astonishment, the substance in the dart was quick-acting and he had no time to save himself as he fell to the floor.

“That was quick,” Rita said to Amy.

“Actually, I meant to be here 30 minutes ago, but the rotation of the guards slowed me up. I had to be careful so I wouldn’t alert the others.”

“Are they dead?”

“No. They were hit with a cocktail that will keep them under for about eight hours. From the notes in the guard building, they operate on 12-hour shifts. The next crew is not due for 10 hours. This lot will be up and trying to figure out what happened before their replacements arrive.”

“Did they see you?”

“Really,” Amy said, surprised, “do you think I would really let them be able to identify me? No.”

“Where are the others?”

“Securing a boat. We will be leaving in twenty minutes. I would like you to help me tie these two up. The serum I gave them will keep them limp and unable to move for an hour, but I want to make sure they are completely secured before the others get here.”

“Ok.”

As Rita moved to tie Alanna, Rita saw her former friend’s eyes move.

“Wait a minute,” Rita said. “Are they awake?”

“Yes. The serum incapacitates them without knocking them out. They can hear and see everything. They just cannot do anything about it.”

Rita nodded and continued to secure Alanna. If looks could have killed, Rita would have been dead. The hatred showing in Alanna’s eyes was intense. Rita wanted to apologize, but knew that Amy had forbidden talking about this to the two hostages. A minute later, Rita stood. Alanna, even if she could have moved, would not be able to do anything to help herself.

Looking over, she saw that Amy had finished with John. As she watched, Amy used one hand to pick her father off of the floor and drop him in the recliner. The strength was astonishing. Looking in John’s eyes, Rita saw he could not believe it, either. Amy walked over and picked Alanna up the same way and dropped her on the couch.

“It’s time, Rita. You have been helpful and I will keep my promise. Are you ready?”

Rita took a deep breath. This was it. Amy was going to kill her. Looking at Alanna and John, she knew her death was going to be easy. Letting her breath out slowly, she nodded once.

There was no time to wonder about it. In a flash, Amy pulled a gun from behind her back and put three bullets into Rita’s head. Alanna watched in wide-eyed terror as her former friend fell to the floor, her eyes already glazed over in death.

Amy walked into the kitchen, stripping off the thin rubber gloves she was wearing, she put on the latex gloves she brought with her. These gloves were more suited to the task of dismembering Rita. Amy got a meat cleaver and went back to the living room. Ignoring the dead woman’s clothes, Amy went to work.

First, she removed Rita’s arms and then the legs. She dropped these limbs in the laps of her two captives, letting them deal with the thoughts that arose from what they saw. At one point, Alanna closed her eyes. Amy, seeing this, put down the cleaver and walked over to her father’s wife.

“No,” Amy said vehemently as she delivered a stunning back hand to Alanna’s face, smearing blood on the older woman’s cheek. “You will watch this!”

Alanna, stunned by the blow opened her eyes and did not try to avoid the scene again. Ten minutes later, Rita was destroyed. Her chest had been carved open by the cleaver. Her heart was pulled free and placed on the table in front of the couch. The dead woman’s lungs sat on the mantle over the fireplace.

Listening carefully, Amy heard her sisters coming. She quickly got up and administered a shot that put the two captives to sleep within seconds. After placing hoods over their heads, she went to greet her sisters in the kitchen.

“Are you re….”

Melinda’s question was cut off as she saw her younger sister’s clothes.

“What the fuck, Amy? Is this a fucking abattoir?”

“It was for Rita. I did keep my promise, though. She was already dead before I started chopping her up.”

“But why did you chop her up,” Elizabeth asked.

“It was fun. After chopping off a limb, I would put the severed limb in dad’s lap or in Alanna’s lap. They were terrified. It was great. You may not want to go in there though. It is a mess.”

“Is it anything worse than what we saw on those tapes?”

“Hmmm. You have a point. It is not worse. You got the boat ready?”

“Yes. It is fueled and ready to go.”

“And you brought the bag I asked for?”

“Got it right here.”

“Good,” Amy said. “I am going to go take a shower. Don’t worry about those two in there. They will be asleep for about 24 hours.”

Amy went into the living room and stopped.

“Hey. Can one of you bring my bag up to the bathroom? And bring a trash bag, please?”

“Sure.”

Amy was very careful. When showering, she kept her socks on so there would be no real footprings on the bathroom floor. She used a cloth to turn on the water and made sure she touched nothing that would give up prints.

Getting out of the shower, she dried off and used her wet towel to pick up her bloody clothes. Putting them in the trash bag Elizabeth held, Amy walked into the hallway and onto the carpet before stripping her wet socks off and stepping into the sandals her sister brought. Amy wanted to leave no skin or anything that could be used for DNA identification.

Elizabeth was sure that the precautions were unnecessary, but would not argue with Amy. Amy was running this show and if she wanted to be careful, she would be careful. Nothing Elizabeth or Melinda said would change that.

Clean and dry, the soiled clothes safely stashed in a trash bag, they headed down to the living room. Amy used another towel to move Rita’s limbs from the two sleeping captives. She then cut the clothes from the captives and put the clothes in another trash bag.

“It would have been easier to move them if they could walk, Amy,” Melinda said.

“It is easy, now,” Amy said as she picked her father up and slung him over her shoulder.

Amy did the same with Alanna and headed to the kitchen.

“Coming, ladies,” Amy asked.

“Uh, yes,” Elizabeth said in awe.

The two older sisters followed Amy. They knew their father weighed more than 200 pounds and Alanna must have weighed more than 130 pounds. Amy, though, showed no problem carrying them to the dock near the patio. Once aboard the yacht, Amy took the sleeping couple down to the bedroom and tied them together. If the couple woke before reaching their destination, they would find themselves unable to move.

All three girls were trained on sailing a yacht and could have done so blindfolded…..as long as someone told them when they were about to hit something. Elizabeth started the motor and piloted the yacht out to the open sea.

Amy, using her father’s cell phone, sent a text message to the disposable cell phone Ed had, sending the message that an emergency had arisen and John and Alanna were returning to Italy. Once the message was sent, Amy tossed the cell phone over the side into the deep water. The phone would sink and stop working. It was highly unlikely anyone would find it.

—–

Dog Island

Ed was really enjoying his time with Johnny. They had been fishing for about three hours before the cell phone buzzed in his pocket. Pulling it out and looking at it, he saw the message.

“Hey, Johnny.”

“Yeah, Grandpa?”

“I got some bad news. It seems an emergency has come up and your mom and dad had to go back to Italy.”

“Again?”

“Huh?”

“This happened two years ago, too.”

Ed could not believe his luck. The kid was not going to question the story.

“I’m sorry,” Ed said. “Anyway, your dad wants me to take you back to the airport and fly home from here. They have already left on the yacht.”

“That figures,” Johnny said. “Are you going to stay with me at home? It will take them four or five days to get home sailing the yacht if I know them. I really do not want another babysitter. And I can show you the fishing near Ancona.”

“I think they would be okay with that. And I have the time. Sure, why not?”

“Great!”

“In the meantime, though, I think we should head on over to Anguilla and the airport.”

“What about my clothes?”

“Your parents thought about that. They packet your suitcases and left them on the dock. We will pick them up on our way to Anguilla.”

“Oh. Ok.”

Ed and Johnny put away their fishing gear and started walking back to the boat.

—–

John was the first to wake. He felt horrible. He was starving. There was pain in his wrists and, to his surprise, he found himself handcuffed to a chair. Moving to get a better look around, he found that his ankles were cuffed to the legs of the chair. Looking down, he saw the chair was bolted to the floor. After struggling vainly for a minute, he realized he was going nowhere.

A groan caught his attention and, looking to the left, he saw Alanna in the same situation. Suddenly, everything came back. Some woman had killed Rita. Right in front of John and Alanna. Then Rita was dismembered and butchered. Whoever had them did not mean good things to happen to John and Alanna.

John was a thinker. An idea man. Seeing as Rita was Alanna’s friend, maybe they were just after her. Maybe John could buy his way out of this. They would not know that Ed had moved the money. John would promise outrageous money for his release and when they took him out of here, he would try to escape. It was too bad for Alanna, but John was beginning to get bored with her, anyway. She had fulfilled her purpose. She had given him a son. John did not need her anymore.

Another groan and some movement told John that Alanna was waking up. Looking over at the woman, he saw her looking at him in shock.

“John,” Alanna said, “where are we?”

John, to his chagrin, had no idea. Looking around, he saw they were in a concrete room with a large mirror. Looking up, he saw two sturdy-looking hooks in the ceiling. To the right of the mirror, there was a steel door.

“I have no idea,” John replied.

“This seems vaguely familiar, but I just cannot seem to place it.”

“That is because there is not much in here to trigger your memory,” Amy said as she entered the room. “The last time you were here, that mirror was a regular window.”

“I am sorry,” Rita said as she looked at Amy. “Do I know you?”

“Wow,” Amy said with a smile. “I cannot believe my lack of manners. But I will beg your pardon for not identifying myself yet. Before I do, I should let you know why you are here. I will be right back.”

Amy left and returned a minute later, wheeling in a cart upon which sat a TV/VCR combo set. After plugging in the TV, she inserted a tape and turned on the TV. She left the room and returned a moment later with a chair and a TV remote. Placing her chair between the two captives’ chairs, she started the movie.

A noise distracted Amy and she looked out into the hallway. After a moment, she stood up and headed for the door.

“I am sorry, folks, but I have some business to attend to. I have seen this before and it will take about 90 minutes. I will be back at that time. Enjoy.”

Leaving the room, Amy entered the booth. Looking at the seated couple, she enjoyed seeing the horror appear on their faces.

“Ninety minutes,” Melinda asked.

“Yeah,” Amy replied. I put all three films on that one tape. They will be able to watch all three. Hell, they enjoyed making them. I just thought they should be able to see them one last time.”

“How are we going to do this,” Elizabeth asked.

“That depends on how much you two want to participate. I am capable of doing this on my own, but you two were hurt more by their actions. I feel you two should have the option of venting your anger and grief on these people.”

Elizabeth and Melinda went into a corner of the booth to discuss their options as Amy watched the couple in the cell. Neither John nor Alanna could not look away for more than a few moments. From the look on their faces, Amy could tell they knew they were in the room shown on the video. Amy thought it was fitting. She looked up as Melinda and Elizabeth came back.

“Amy,” Elizabeth began, “we appreciate everything you have done to bring this about. Without you, we would not be here faced with this question.”

“Fuck the question,” Amy said with a smile. “What is the answer?”

“I can’t kill them, Amy,” Melinda said sadly. “I want them dead, but I cannot do it.”

“And you,” Amy asked, looking at her oldest sister.

“I cannot do it either. I thought I could. I wanted to. But now that we are here? I just can’t.”

“I thought as much,” Amy said with an understanding smile. “I could see it back at the camp. When shooting clay pigeons, you two were very good. But when the targets were man-shaped, you hesitated every time. So you cannot kill them. That is fine. I can do that. But let me ask you this. Can you hurt them? Can you cause them severe pain?”

The older sisters looked at each other. They had expected Amy to be pissed, but she just kept surprising them.

“Yeah,” Elizabeth said. “I can hurt them. What do I need to do?”

“Hold on a sec,” Amy said. “Mel? What about you?”

“I….I…I can hurt them,” Melinda said hesitantly, surprised at the upwelling of anticipation she felt.

“Excellent. I am going ask each of you to pummel one of those two in there. I want you to beat them within an inch of their lives. Don’t kill them. That is my fun. Do either of you have a preference concerning who you will take?”

“I don’t,” Elizabeth said.

“I don’t, either,” Melinda said.

“Ok. I am going to flip a coin. Heads, Mel gets dad. Tails, Liz gets him. Agreed?”

The older sisters nodded and Amy flipped the coin. She let it fall to the floor and all three saw it had come up tails.

“So, I take dad,” Elizabeth said with a slight smile. “What do I do?”

“I will get to that in a little bit. The movie has about 60 minutes left. I need to go get some things but I will be back before the movie is over. Please do not go into the room until I get back. I still like the surprise element here.”

“Ok,” the older women said.

Amy took off at a run. She knew there was a kitchen in the place. That would come in handy when disposing of the corpses. From the looks of the place no one had been here since Amanda, Elaine, and Michelle were killed. That was fortuitous. Running into the kitchen, she found the tools the murderers used 12 years ago. She grabbed the lot and headed back to the booth. Passing an open doorway, she looked in and inspiration struck.

“Here are your tools,” Amy said as she wheeled the cart into the booth. “There is a baseball bat, some hammers, even a flail, if you can believe it. I saw a couple other things I need. I will be back in a minute.”

Amy ran to the open room and looked around. The objects that had caught her attention were two large concrete blocks. They were cube-shaped and 24 inches to a side. Picking one up, she calculated the weight as close to 100 pounds. The nicest part were the iron rings in the top of each cube. Amy could see someone attaching a chain to the ring and dragging the block around the room.

Amy thought that was too simplistic, but if they cuffed his ankles to the rings and used the hook in the ceiling to hoist John into the air, they could spread his legs as far as possible and John would not be able to do anything to protect his balls. This was going to be fun. Grabbing a ring with each hand, Amy picked up the two blocks and carried them back to the booth.

—–

John was truly worried. This looked bad. He now understood that he was in the room where these movies were filmed. He had seen these movies many times over the last 12 years and enjoyed them greatly. After recognizing what he was seeing, he realized that someone had liked his ex-wife enough to seek revenge for her death.

Luckily, John thought, he did not appear in the films. True, the people killing Amanda were covered in a black outfits that prevented the viewer from identifying them, but someone had discovered that it was Alanna and Rita. Rita had met her grisly end, but that still left Alanna.

It was possible that they did not even know who he was. He could try to play it off as a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. He would offer a large amount of money to be released. It really was too bad about Alanna, but, as he had earlier decided, he would have left her soon, anyway.

“John,” Alanna said, trying to get his attention.

The movie had just ended. John knew Alanna now knew where they were. She was terrified. The information all pointed to a bad end for her. She and Rita had killed Amanda here 12 years ago and now, Rita was dead.

Alanna was not too distressed about Rita’s death, though the dismemberment had bothered her a bit. Rita had become a liability anyway. Their 15-year friendship had lost its importance and Alanna had been working on plans to kill Rita.

“John,” Alanna repeated. “What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know,” John whispered in a tone that was barely audible. “We will have to see if we can reason with them. They probably think you killed Amanda. We just have to convince them it was not you. You and Rita may have those two in the black suits, but there really is no way to prove it.”

“You…..you are right,” Alanna said with a sigh.

“Now shut up. They are probably monitoring the sound in this room.”

With a bang that caused the two restrained people to jump, the door opened and the woman came back into the room. She unplugged the TV and wheeled it out. Coming back, she took her chair from between John and Alanna placed it about six feet in front of them.

“So,” Amy said as she sat down, “did you enjoy the feature? I assume I do not have to explain why you are here.”

“Just a moment,” Alanna objected. “Who were those people? Why would you show us a film like that?”

“Really, Alanna,” Amy asked incredulously. “You are going to pretend that wasn’t you and Rita in those black outfits?”

“I don’t know who you are,” Alanna answered, “but I do not have to pretend. That was not me. I have never been here before.”

Amy nodded but said nothing as she stood and walked to Alanna. Amy delivered a vicious backhand that would have had Alanna sprawled on the floor had her retraints kept her in the chair. Amy walked back to the chair and sat down again.

“I should have warned the two of you,” Amy said. “I can always tell when someone is lying to me. It is the only sure-fire way to piss me off. If you lie to me, I will hurt you. And Alanna? That was not as bad as it can get. Do we understand each other?”

Alanna and John nodded, though John still had his doubts.

“I understand that you have an issue with this woman,” John said, “but I really have nothing to do with this. Is there any way we can make a deal? I have a lot of money. I can give you whatever you want.”

Alanna was outraged. John was abandoning her? She was about to say something when she saw Amy stand up and walk to John.

“See Alanna,” Amy asked. “This man is not worth what you thought. He cares nothing for you.”

“And you,” she said to John, “obviously were not paying attention when I told Alanna that lying was futile.”

Amy reached down and, grabbing the metal cuff on John’s wrist, unlocked it. She repeated the action on the other three cuffs and then stepped back.

“You have one chance, old man. I am between you and the door. If you can get past me, you are free. My friends will not stop you.”

In the booth, Elizabeth and Melinda almost felt sorry for their father. Although he was twice the size of Amy, and in excellent physical condition, he had no chance of getting past her.

John, though, had different thoughts.

“You would shoot me. Or throw a knife at me. How do I know I have a chance?”

To answer, Amy stripped down to her black spandex shorts and black sports bra. It was obvious that she had no weapons.

“As you can see, I have no weapons, other than my hands and feet. Now, if you have the balls to try, come at me.”

John needed no further goading, He bolted from his seat and charged straight in.

Amy sighed. This was going to be no fun. She executed a backspin kick that connected with his shoulder, sending him to the floor. As he attempted to rise, she grapped him with her left hand and threw him across the room like he was a rag doll. With a sickening pop, he slammed into the wall and dislocated his shoulder.

“Damn,” Amy said. “I should leave it like that, but this will be more fun.”

She bent down, grabbed the wrist of the arm that was dislocated, and – placing her foot on John’s chest – yanked on the arm, popping it back into place. John screamed in agony and passed out.

“Fucking wimp,” Amy said disgustedly as she carried John back to the chair and reattached the cuffs.

Delivering another backhand to John’s head, Amy smiled as she saw the eyelids flutter as John regained consciousness.

“I told you,” Amy said, seeing John was fully awake again, “that I know when someone is lying to me. I know who you are, John McInish. And I know that you have no money. Ed moved that money. And it was never yours in the first place. It was your life insurance policy, but you are not dead.”

“How do you know about Ed,” John asked.

“I know a lot of things, John. I know, for example, that – although you do not appear in those movies you saw – you are the reason for them. Your wife, the victim in the third movie, refused to give you more children and you arranged all that, including faking your death, to avoid a messy divorce.”

“So, where is the money,” Alanna asked.

“It is where it belongs,” Amy said as Elizabeth and Melinda entered the room. “It is with me, Elizabeth, and Melinda.”

“Hi, daddy,” Melinda said. “Miss us?”

Alanna fainted.

—–

“Well,” Amy said with a smile, “that was predictable. Mel, could you go get one of those needles we brought? I want to make sure she will not pass out again.”

“Sure, Amy.

“Well, daddy. You did not answer Mel’s question.”

“Amy,” John asked. “Is it really you?”

“Uh….yes, daddy. It’s me. And Mel and Liz. You just saw what happened to Mom, Lany, and Chelly so this will be it for the family reunion.”

“Then why did you hurt me?”

Amy knew he was going to try for the innocent angle, but she would not be fooled. Ed had found them in under three months. Alanna knew who had sold the girls in Thailand. They had had years to locate the girls if that was what they wanted.

“Why,” Amy asked. “I told you when I slapped Alanna that I can tell when you are lying. I also mentioned that liars piss me off and get punished.”

“But you dislocated my arm,” he complained.

“And I put it back,” Amy replied. “Think of it as an object lesson.”

Melinda came back and jabbed the needle into Alanna’s neck. She pressed the plunger, sending the solution into Alanna’s bloodstream.

“How many more do we have,” Amy asked.

“About a dozen,” Melinda answered.

“Good. I do not anticipate needing more than two or three more, but it is good to have extra.”

“What is that,” John asked.

Amy went and retrieved another of the needles and held it so John could see it.

“Same thing you saw mom inject into Michelle and Elaine. Adrenaline and endorphins. They will keep her alert as we work on her.”

“Work on her? You mean like in those movies?”

“Yep,” Amy said as she shoved the needle into John’s neck. “And this one is yours.”

“You’re going to kill us?”

“Hell yes,” Amy said, fury making her eyes a dark green.

“What if I tell you I was uninvolved?”

“I would look into your eyes as you told me and, should I believe you are lying, I will pummel you. Trust me, daddy. I know the truth of this. I heard it from Ed and Rita. I know you were involved. I also know why.”

“You wanted a son,” Amy continued. “Mom refused, after having 5 daughters, to have more children. You found out Alanna was pregnant with your son and arranged to have mom removed from the situation. Alanna found out she could find buyers for me, Mel, and Liz, but no one wanted Lany or Chelly.”

“You had a thought, based on your chance encounter with your doppelganger. You faked your death, had Alanna arrange the deaths of mom, Chelly, and Lany. Lastly, you let that bitch sell us off to slavery. When Ed found out you were alive – and found out you had lied about how mom was lazy and didn’t want to work – he found us in a shitty bar where we were being raped by customers and fucking animals. He helped us get free and we pieced the past together.”

“I swore that I would have my revenge, but that will wait. It is time for your other daughters to have some fun.”

Amy freed his hands and cuffed them together.

“Do not try anything,” Amy warned as she freed his ankles.

John did not listen. As soon as his legs were free, he bolted up and made for the door. Amy quickly caught him by the throat with her left hand and lifted him off the ground. John, stunned by her strength hung there choking. Regaining his senses, he started kicking her.

“Fucker,” Amy snarled as she shook him like a rag doll. “I told you not to try anything.”

She threw him against the wall again, taking care that he would hit back first, knocking the wind from him without breaking anything. It worked like a charm and he was soon gasping deep breaths as he lay on the floor. Amy quickly cuffed his ankles and lifting him up again, hung his cuffed wrists on one of the hooks.

John’s feet barely touched the floor. Regardless of how he tried, he could not get off the hook. Giving up, he put as much pressure on his feet as he could, alleviating the stress on his bound wrists.

Amy studied her handiwork and then, as Alanna was regaining consciousness, did the same to the older woman. Soon, Alanna and John both hung from the hooks in the ceiling. Amy retrieved a pair of heavy duty scissors from the booth and cut the clothes from the pair.

“Ok, daddy,” Amy said, “I have other things to take care of, but don’t worry. Liz and Mel will keep you company.”

Amy left the room as Melinda and Elizabeth entered.

“Melinda, Elizabeth,” John said, “help me. Your sister is crazy. I do not know what has gotten into her.”

“Oh, dad,” Elizabeth said, “she is just mad because you arranged to have mom, Elaine, and Michelle murdered. Oh, and you arranged for the three of us to be sold to white slavers in Bangkok. We spent eight years being used as sex toys by filthy drunks. That is what has gotten into her.”

“She thinks I was involved with that?”

“Please, daddy,” Melinda said, “we may not be as proficient as Amy in detecting lies, but we know you were involved. Don’t waste time lying about this.”

“Yeah,” Elizabeth agreed. “Don’t lie to Amy. That really pisses her off. We saw her throw you against the wall. She could do a lot worse to you.”

“How did she do that? I weigh 240 pounds.”

“That is easy. She can easily lift over 300 pounds with each hand. She has been working out.”

“What is going to happen to us,” Alanna asked, joining the conversation.

“Well, you saw what you did to our mother. Amy is going to make the two of you feel that kind of pain. If she still feels that is not enough, she will probably go after Johnny.”

“Johnny,” Alanna asked in alarm. “He has nothing to do with this.”

“On the contrary,” Elizabeth answered. “He was the cause of it. Dad, here, wanted a son. Mom had had enough with five children and had her tubes tied. Then you came along and got pregnant with the son he wanted. If Johnny had been born a girl, it is possible that none of this would have happened.”

“But, Amy may be merciful. If she can satisfy her need for revenge with you two, then Johnny may be spared.”

“Where is Johnny?”

“He and Ed are in Ancona at your house. They left the island and flew home.”

“Where do they think we are?”

“Johnny believes you are on your yacht sailing home. It will be days before anyone notices you are missing.”

“Does Ed know about this,” John asked.

“Yes. After finding out you were alive, he located us in Bangkok and rescued us. Your betrayal hurt him more than you will ever know. He rescued us and brought us home. He gave us the $200 million he was managing for Johnny.”

“THAT’S JOHNNY’S MONEY,” Alanna screamed.

“Well, to be exact,” Melinda said calmly, “some of it is Johnny’s, if he lives. If Amy decides to spare him, we will arrange for $50 million to be set aside for him. As one of four children, he will get one quarter of the money.”

“Amy is in charge,” John asked.

“Yes,” Melinda said. “And you really shouldn’t piss her off. Because she was too young to be a sex toy when we got to Bangkok, she was trained as an assassin instead. She was used to kill those that hurt the other girls.”

“Yeah,” Elizabeth agreed. “She has killed over 100 men already and was responsible for the plan that took out your security goons on the island. She could, if motivated, introduce you to pain you have never imagined.”

“What are you two supposed to do, then?”

Elizabeth and Melinda looked at each other. This conversation had gone on long enough.

“This,” they said in unison as they launched into attack routines they learned at the camp.

“About fucking time,” Amy muttered as she watched from the booth.

Elizabeth launched into a flying backspin kick that connected with her father’s stomach. It was designed to knock the wind out of him without causing too much damage too quickly. All three girls were agreed that he deserved to feel as much pain as he could before he died. Elizabeth knew she could not kill him – she was pretty sure that she would be unable to kill anyone – but that would not stop her from making him wish she would kill him.

Predictably, John brought his knees up to protect his abdomen. Quickly dropping, Elizabeth lashed out with a kick to his now-exposed genitals. She connected solidly and John howled in pain, tears running down his cheeks. Moving around behind her father, Elizabeth let loose with a flurry of blows to his back, striking his kidneys and upper back. He swung like a pendulum as he hung from the hook.

Melinda, in the meantime, was doing a respectable job on Alanna. The older woman was now alert again and remembered the way she tortured Amanda years before. If these girls followed the same pattern, this was going to be a long afternoon. Melinda was faster than her older sister and her kicks were stronger. Within moments, Alanna’s hips were seriously bruised. Melinda launched a kick to the groin that landed with enough force that it lifted Alanna almost enough for the woman to come off the hook.

Alanna was howling like her husband. This was bad, she decided. The girls knew everything. How they found out was a mystery, but the resolution Alanna saw in the younger women’s eyes convinced her that neither she, nor John would survive this afternoon. The only question was the pain involved. As with most people, death did not scare her. The pain associated with death……well, that was another matter.

The pummeling went on and on. Forty-five minutes passed while Elizabeth and Melinda worked over the hanging couple. The girls’ training had paid off, though. Although John and Alanna were seriously bruised and were in serious pain, no bones were broken.

“Ok,” Amy said as she and two familiar-looking men came back into the room. “That’s enough for now. Take them down and get them cleaned up.”

The two men, Trevor and Sven – men who were part of John’s security team – took John and Alanna down from the hooks and took them to the bathroom. A hose was shoved into John’s and Alanna’s assholes and the water was turned on. John and Alanna groaned from the feeling of cold water flooding their intestines.

The cramping caused by the cold water elicited more screams from the two. After a minute, the hoses were pulled out. Trevor held John up while Sven punched his former employer in the stomach, causing John to expel water and shit. The same thing was done to Alanna and then the hoses were shoved back in and the process began again.

After four cycles, the water John and Alanna expelled was crystal clear. Now that the insides were clean, Sven and Trevor hosed the couple down and set to with scrub brushes and soap and began cleaning the outsides. John, weary and weak from his ordeal, was extremely confused.

“Trevor,” John said, “what is happening? Why have you betrayed me? Why are you helping those girls?”

Trevor looked up at Amy, who nodded.

“I’m sorry, John,” Trevor replied. “You have been a good boss and I would never have betrayed you. When Sven and I woke up, we were here. The little girl – Amy – made a bet with us. We would fight her. She would go up against the two of us at the same time. If we won, we were free. If we lost, we would have a choice.”

“We lost, John,” Sven said. “I still do not know how it is possible, but that little girl mopped the floor with us. Her punches feel like a mule’s kick. Anyway, the choice she gave us was this: if we helped her with you two, she would kill us quickly. If we did not, she would kill us painfully, taking her time.”

“You have to understand, John,” Trevor continued. “You two are already doomed. I do not know what you did to these girls, but they are carrying a serious grudge. They mean to hurt you terribly. Nothing we can do will help you. Taking that into consideration, the choice was relatively easy.”

John understood. He had been contemplating selling Alanna out just to save himself. He really could not fault the choice his men made.

“Amy,” Alanna said, “are you going to kill Johnny?”

“To be honest, bitch,” Amy said, “I haven’t really decided. There are two arguments running through my head right now. The first one says he is the real reason for everything. Let’s face it. If you hadn’t gotten pregnant with a boy, my father might not have arranged to kill his wife and marry you. That alone warrants the boy’s death.”

“Adding to that argument is the psychological aspect of all this. The pain you feel knowing that your actions 12 years ago are the reasons for your son’s death – his excruciating death – is…..well, that pain is exquisite.”

“On the other hand, if we were to judge him based solely on what he has done, he is innocent. That would mean that I would have no reason to kill him. Regardless of how it happened, he is our sole remaining relative. Will I kill my brother? I do not know yet.”

Sven and Trevor finished cleaning Alanna and John. They carried the couple back to the room and cuffed them back into the chairs.

“Thank you, boys,” Amy said to the two guards. “Now, if you will go stand in the corner, I will fulfill my part of the bargain and end it quickly for you.”

Trevor, in a moment of desperation, launched himself at Amy. She calmly pulled a knife from her belt and sidestepped out of his reach. As he stumbled past, Amy slashed down, cutting the hamstring of Trevor’s right leg. As Trevor fell to the floor, clutching his injured leg, Amy pointed a gun at Sven.

“And you,” Amy asked Sven. “What will you do?”

Sven walked to the corner and turned to face away from Amy. Amy nodded and fired 3 rounds into the back of Sven’s head. The guard slumped to the floor, dead before his body hit the floor. Turning back to Trevor, Amy smiled cruelly. This was going to be fun.

She walked toward Trevor and he started sliding back away from her. Amy set the gun and knife on the floor. Moving quickly, she grabbed Trevor and hauled him to his feet. She stepped back and looked at him.

“Really, Trevor,” she said, “what were you thinking? Didn’t we go through this six hours ago?”

“I don’t want to die,” Trevor whined.

“Oh, stop being a big baby. You tried to kill me and my sisters on that island. Even before we said or did anything, you and Sven were shooting at us. Most guards would issue a verbal warning. You did not. Anyone who tries to kill me or my sisters will die. That includes you.”

“But,” Amy continued, “I tried to give you a quick painless death. We made a deal and then you do this? I am sorry, Trevor. You broke the deal and now you will feel my wrath.”

No one saw the punch. Amy was in front of Trevor and then, suddenly, she was behind him. The people in the room, however, heard it. With a sickening crunch, Trevor’s shoulder was pulped. Trevor’s left arm hung limply from a shoulder that was a mass of crushed bone.

With a howl of pain, Trevor spun and launched a punch with his right arm. Amy ducked under it and grabbed his wrist. Standing up quickly, she drove her shoulder through his right elbow, snapping it. She then let loose with another blow, pulping his right shoulder. Now, both of his arms hung limply.

“Happy now, Trevor,” Amy asked. “I am prepared to end this quickly if you apologize.”

“Fadfasdmaskj werwoiusa,” he muttered incoherently.

“You know,” Amy asked. “That did not sound like an apology.”

She spun close to Trevor and lashed out with her left foot, driving it through Trevor’s left knee. Trevor fell to the floor. His left leg – with its broken knee – and his right leg – with its cut hamstring – could no longer support him. Amy viciously kicked Trevor in the ribs on the right side of his body. Another sickening crunch was heard, followed by Trevor’s howl of agony.

“I”M SORRY,” Trevor howled, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth.

Amy nodded once and retrieved the gun.

“Thank you, Trevor,” Amy said as she fired three rounds into the broken guard’s head.

Trevor’s body shuddered once, twice, and then fell still.

“I need a drink,” Amy said to Alanna and John. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”

—–

“Having fun,” Elizabeth asked as Amy came into the booth.

“Fucking Trevor,” Amy replied as she grabbed a Diet Pepsi from the cooler. “I thought he was smarter than that.”

“Well,” Melinda said, “it does show how serious you are.”

“Yeah,” Amy said. “Anyway, did you two want to do more or should I take over now?”

“I think I am satisfied,” Elizabeth said. “I think you can take over now. I will be satisfied watching them go through whatever you have in mind.”

“I agree,” Melinda said. “It’s all yours, now, Amy.”

“Thanks,” Amy said as she picked up two more syringes. “I will be back in a sec.”

Amy walked back into the room and gave John and Alanna another injection of the stimulant.

“I don’t want either of you passing out on me,” Amy said to the couple. “That would be no fun.”

Amy walked back into the booth and looked over her tools. Looking at the wooden cart, she scowled in frustration.

“Mel,” Amy said. “Did you see those steel gloves I had this morning?”

“The ones that had the fingertips cut off?”

“Yes. I do not see them here.”

“We might have dropped them as we were coming down here. I will go look for them.”

“Thanks, Mel.”

Amy looked over the tools and smiled. A hand-held torch, several scalpels, a few hammers, an electric iron, a baseball bat, and many other items were arranged on a tool cart. One of the key items was a box full of thin needles. There must have been 200+ needles in that box.

“They were on the floor outside the kitchen,” Melinda said as she came back into the room, holding the gloves.

“Thanks, Mel,” Amy said with a smile. “I am going to need them. Could you two help me move stuff into the room? I need this wooden table and the cart. I can handle the cart if you two move the table.”

“Sure, Amy,” Elizabeth said with a smile.

“Thanks. Just put the table in front of Alanna.”

Melinda and Elizabeth were happy this part was finally starting. It meant the end was nearing. They were happy to be a part of their father’s demise, but this was more extreme than they had hoped. They would have been happy with him getting a few bullets in the brain like Sven and Trevor. Amy, however, needed him to feel pain.

—–

Alanna watched as Elizabeth and Melinda brought in the table. They placed it in front of her and left without saying a word. As Alanna watched, Amy wheeled the cart into the room. With a terrible sinking feeling, Alanna recognized the cart.

“Fuck,” Alanna muttered.

“What,” John asked.

“You cannot see it,” Alanna said as she watched Amy plug in the iron, “but if they haven’t changed it too much, the tools on that cart would make an Inquisition torturer jealous.”

“Fuck,” John said.

“That’s what I said,” Alanna replied.

Amy came over holding the gloves, a hammer, and some nails. She forced the gloved over Alanna’s hands and cinched them tight. They would not come off until Amy wanted them to. She then nailed the gloves to the table. Alanna, in a panic, found that she could not move her hands or fingers.

“You were amateurish,” Amy said to Alanna. “Using a hammer to destroy toes in order to cause pain? Heh.”

Amy took 30 needles out of the box and inserted three into each finger below the nail. Alanna shrieked in pain. Amy smiled at the sounds and pulled out a pair of foam earplugs.

“Sorry, daddy,” Amy said with a smirk as she put in her earplugs. “You will just have to deal with the noise.”

Alanna sobbed in agony. This was more pain than she had ever felt.

“See, Alanna,” Amy asked with a smile. “If you merely cut off the fingers, the pain fades and you minimize the pain you can inflict.”

“But,” Amy continued as she pulled the three needles from the forefinger on the left hand, “by leaving the fingers intact, the nerve endings are still there.”

“And with the nerves intact,” she continued as she reinserted the needles under the fingernail, “you can keep stimulating them for hours.”

Amy walked over to the cart as Alanna continued to sob in agony. Retrieving the handheld torch, she walked back to Alanna. Looking under the table, Amy grinned. Crawling under the table, she spread Alanna’s legs and looked at the older woman’s fur-covered pussy. Triggering the torch, she ignited Alanna’s pubic hair. It went up quickly, but the woman’s shrieks reached an even higher pitch.

Amy chuckled as she looked at the now-smooth pussy. Backing out from under the table, she looked over at her father’s crotch. He was hairy too. Then again, he had hair all over his chest and back as well. This was really going to be fun.

“I will be right back,” Amy said as she left the room.

Amy walked into the booth and began rummaging through the boxes in the corner. Her sisters looked on in horror. They knew her sister was determined to cause pain, but the level of sadism they were seeing proved that Amy was not the sister they thought they knew.

“Have either of you seen that bottle of vodka Sven had?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth said. “It is over here.”

Elizabeth went to Sven’s jacket, which was lying in the other corner. Reaching into the inner pocket, she pulled out the bottle. Amy took the bottle, saying thanks, and went back into the room.

Amy walked up to her father and carefully poured the vodka on his chest, crotch, and legs. Stepping back, she used the torch to ignite the fumes. She giggled as blue flames crawled over her father’s body, singing the hair off. Amy repeated the process on John’s back. Soon the only hair John and Alanna had was on their heads.

“Well,” Amy said, “that was fun. But Alanna, you are still too hairy.”

Amy went over and ignited the hair on Alanna’s head. The stench of burning hair filled the room. As Alanna screamed, Amy went over and ignited her father’s hair. The flames did not last long and soon, both Alanna and John were bald.

“Much better, don’t you think?”

“Amy, please,” John said. “Please let us go. You do not want to kill us. I know you were hurt and I am really sorry. Please, just let us go. I do not care about the money. You three can have it.”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, DADDY,” screamed Amy. “You don’t seem to get it. We can have the money anyway. As for me wanting to kill you, you have never been more wrong in your life. I have dreamed of nothing but killing you since I found out you were still alive. When I found out you orchestrated this whole fucking situation, I knew I had to kill you. But killing you was not enough. I want you to feel as much pain as Lany felt. As Chelly and mom felt. I want you to feel the pain, Liz, Mel, and I felt. You will be begging me to kill you before I let you die.”

“But…..”

Amy did not let him finish. She backhanded him hard and dislocated his jaw. Seeing what she had done, she grabbed the jaw and shoved it back into place.

“You still do not get it. There are only two things I want to hear from you, you fucker. I want to hear your screams and I want to hear you begging for death. Let me give you an example of what I can do.”

Amy set down the torch and went to the cart. Finding a sharp scalpel, she returned to her father. She made a shallow cut on his abdomen and peeled back the top layers of flesh exposing the nerves below. Grabbing a few of the nerves, she used the scalpel to lightly scrape the blade along them. If it had not been for the stimulants, John would have passed out from the pain. As it was, all he could do was open his mouth in a silent howl of agony.

“Now, shut the fuck up until I am ready to deal with you. I am still working on your fucking pig of a wife, you shit. Just shut the fuck up.”

John was almost mindless from the pain. He had enough consciousness to realize his daughter was no longer sane when it came to him and Alanna. All he could do was sit there and hope it would be over soon. Anything else would only invite more pain. He remembered one of her sisters mentioning that she had been trained as an assassin. He believed it now. The older sister had been right about another thing. Pissing Amy off was a big mistake.

Amy picked up the torch and returned to Alanna.

“Sorry if you thought I forgot about you,” Amy said to Alanna. “I didn’t.”

Amy lit the torch and held the flame to the needles heating the metal. When the metal was glowing from the heat, she moved on to the next needle. Alanna continued her screaming as her fingers cooked from the inside. Her screams kept getting louder and louder until there was sudden silence. Amy looked up at Alanna and, seeing the older woman’s mouth still open and hearing the air come out through it, Amy began to laugh.

“Hahahaha,” Amy cackled. “You broke your voice. I must say, though, that I am a bit relieved. I do not need to hear your screams to know the pain you are in.”

Amy finished heating the last of the needles and went back to the cart. Selecting a pair of pliers, she went back to Alanna. Leaving the needles in place, Amy used the pliers to grip the thumbnail on Alanna’s left hand. With a yank, Amy ripped the nail free. Tears rolled down Alanna’s face as she shook in agony.

Amy repeated the action on the next finger….and the next. Soon all 10 nails were pulled free. Amy tested the heat of the needles and, finding them sufficiently cooled, pulled the 30 needles from the fingers. She freed Alanna’s hands and moved the table out of the way. Then she started on Alanna’s toes.

—–

Elizabeth was seriously disturbed. Amy was going beyond anything the older sister had imagined. She had seen her mother use a hammer to destroy her older sister’s toes and had felt that was horrible. But, as bad as that was, this was so much worse.

“Elizabeth,” Melinda said, “Amy has lost it, hasn’t she?”

“I am afraid so, Melinda. We can only hope that, when this is over, she will go back to being the sweet sister we know.”

“I am scared, Elizabeth.”

“Me too, Melinda. Me too.”

—–

Alanna was no longer howling. She was whimpering and sobbing. She could not wait for this nightmare to be over. It was ridiculous. She hurt so bad, she had lost her voice. And that little demon was not finished yet.

“Alanna,” Amy said. “Alanna…..Alanna…..yes. Look at me, you bitch. Are you allergic to bees?”

“No,” Alanna croaked, her voice not quite recovered.

“Good. I will be right back.”

—–

Alanna walked into the booth. Looking through her bag of goodies, she pulled out a sturdy – but thin – glove that was covered in grit.

“What is that,” Melinda asked.

“Another glove I made. It is covered with medium grit from sandpaper. I coated the glove with superglue and then covered the glove with the grit.”

Amy reached in and pulled out a plastic bottle that was tightly sealed.

“And that,” Elizabeth asked.

“Bee venom. I will put some on the glove and then fist Alanna’s ass with it. It is not lethal, but the venom will hurt like hell.”

Amy left the booth and went back into the room.

“Melinda…..”

“Call me ‘Mel’, Elizabeth.”

“Only if you call me ‘Liz’, Melinda.”

“Deal, Liz.”

“Deal, Mel. Oh, and Mel?”

“Yeah, Liz?”

“Remind me to never piss off our younger sister. She really scares the fuck out of me.”

—–

Amy walked up to John and undid his cuffs.

“Don’t try anything, daddy.”

“Wouldn’t think of it, Amy.”

Amy cuffed his hands together and hung him on the hook again. She then got some lubricant and coated his asshole with it. With a quick motion, she shoved her fist into him.

“FUCK,” screamed John. “What the hell?”

“Can it, daddy. You actually should be thanking me. I am loosening you up a little.”

“Loosening me up,” John asked incredulously as Amy walked back to the cart. “Loosening me up for what?”

“This,” Amy said, waving a baseball bat as she approached her father.

“God, Amy,” John whimpered. “No.”

“Yes,” Amy said with a smile as she fit the fat end of the bat into her father’s asshole.        ”Please stop, Amy. That bat is killing me.”

“Oh, hush, daddy. I am going to kill you; not some stupid piece of wood.”

Amy left the bat in her father and went over to Alanna. She undid Alanna’s cuffs and handcuffed the older woman’s wrists together before hanging her on a hook beside her husband. Amy waves at the mirror and Melinda turned the hooks so the two captives were facing each other.

Amy put on the glove and poured a little of the venom on the index finger. She walked behind Alanna and – without lubrication – shoved two fingers up the older woman’s ass. At first, Alanna was confused. Then the pain hit.

The first pain – caused by the abrasive grit on the glove – was bad, but not too bad. Then the venom came into contact with the torn tissue. That pain was maddening. Alanna started kicking her legs and shaking from side to side, in hopes of alleviating her pain. Amy laughed in evil delight.

“What, happened,” John asked. “What did you do to her?”

“This,” Amy said as she used her gloved hand to pull on her father’s cock.

The glove tore the skin on John’s cock and the venom did its work. In only a moment, John was howling in torment. Amy put a little more venom on the glove and went back to Alanna. This time, she shoved her whole hand inside the older woman’s ass. As she pushed the hand deeper, Amy flexed her fingers, tearing the delicate tissue. Alanna sobbed heavily. Her voice was beginning to recover and her please were barely audible.

“….please kill me……please kill me……please kill me……..”

“Not yet, bitch,” Amy said. “We have more fun yet to come.”

Deciding to let Alanna sit in torment, Amy went back to her father. She pulled the bat from his ass and, after applying more venom to the glove, shoved her hand up inside. Knowing male anatomy from her studies as an assassin (it always helps to know how to hurt someone), she located his prostate and ripped at it with her gloved fingers. At first, it caused a massive erection and orgasm that caused his dick to spew semen halfway to the door.

“Wow, daddy,” Amy said. “Did that feel good?”

John was incapable of answering as the venom was taking effect, causing excruciating pain to erupt in his bowels. Smiling, Amy left him to his torment and went to fist Alanna’s cunt. Using the rest of the venom, Amy scratched the woman’s clitoris before roughly shoving her fist inside the woman’s cunt.

Amy decided to get down to business. This had been fun, by time was ticking by. It was time to get on with killing these two. She went back to the cart and selected a butcher knife and a 18-inch chain with hooks on each end.

Amy walked back to Alanna. The woman was almost out of it. The pain was taking a toll on her consciousness. Amy couldn’t have the woman passing out. That would not be fair to Lany, Chelly, or mom. She got two more syringes and injected the stimulant into Alanna’s and John’s necks. He did not look like he was going to pass out, but this next step might test that.

While she waited for the stimulant to take effect, Amy set the chain on the floor and went back to the cart. She selected two more thin chains with hooks. One was 40 inches long and the other was 50 inches long. Her chains in hand, she walked back to the hanging couple. Alanna was still not quite alert, but she was better than she was a minute ago. Sweat poured down her face as she moaned in pain.

John was fully alert. He was also terrified. He did not know what his daughter meant to do with those chains, but it would not be good for him. That was for sure.

Amy grabbed her butcher knife in one hand and her father’s cock and balls in the other. With a look to his face and a quick smile, she quickly sliced his genitals off. Moving quickly as John howled in pain, Amy retrieved the iron and cauterized the wound. Attaching one hook to one side of the severed genitals, Amy looped the 40-inch chain around Alanna’s waist and attached the second hook to the other side of the genitals. Alanna now had a dick.

Seeing that Alanna – with a horrified look on her race – was fully alert now, Amy sliced the older woman’s left breast off and cauterized the wound. As Alanna shrieked in pain (Amy found it amazing how her voice came back), Amy cauterized the wound and attached one end of the 18-inch chain to the severed tit. Amy then repeated the process with the right breast and hung the pair around her father’s neck.

“We are almost done with you, Alanna,” Amy said. “Any last words?”

Alanna merely shook her head as the pain coursed through her body. Seeing her tits on her husband’s chest was kind of surreal. Looking down, she realized that having her husband’s penis hanging from her body was equally surreal. Suddenly, the meaning behind Amy’s words penetrated her pain-fogged mind and she realized the end was near.

“Thank you for finishing this, Amy,” Alanna said. “If it is any consolation, I am sorry.”

“It is no consolation, but I can understand that you are sorry. Here we go, Alanna.”

Amy knelt and moved the penis to the side. Without any concern given to the pain Alanna felt, Amy cut the woman’s pussy free and, using the 50-inch chain, hung it from her father’s hips. The severed pussy covered the hole where his cock had been.

“Look, Alanna,” Amy said quickly. “Look at your husband. Doesn’t he look like a butch dyke?”

Alanna looked at her husband, seeing her tits on his chest and her pussy covering his crotch. She started to sob again. The blood loss from her latest wound was making her lightheaded. Seeing this, Amy stepped behind her and, using the knife, cut Alanna’s head off.

Amy lifted Alanna off the hook and laid the headless body on the floor. She set the head on the woman’s chest so the vacant eyes stared at her husband. Amy decided she needed a shower before she continued. As John just stared at his dead wife, Amy left the room.

—–

“Amy,” Elizabeth said as Amy walked past the booth, “where are you going?”

“I feel like taking a shower,” Amy replied. “I have that bitch’s blood all over me and it is disgusting. Also, I felt that daddy should have some quality alone-time with his wife.”

“Are you going to be much longer,” Melinda asked.

“No. I would say thirty minutes from the time I go back in there and we will be done. Thank you for putting up with my selfish behavior. I hate to say it, but I wouldn’t have been able to do this without you two.”

“What do you mean?”

“I hate them, Mel,” Amy answered. “I really, really, hate them. I would do so much more to them, but…..but you help me remember that I could lose myself in this. It is not healthy.”

“I have to admit, Amy,” Elizabeth said, “that I thought you had lost it a bit.”

“No,” Amy objected as she began to tremble. “Even when I am raving in there, it is mostly for show. I wanted them terrified. I got it. Now let me go shower. I think I am going to throw up as well. Give me twenty minutes and come check up on me.”

Amy continued to the shower room. She made it, barely, before she threw up. She had killed many people before, but those people meant nothing to her. She was too emotionally involved here. Had this been a job instead of a personal affair, she would have passed on it. It was never a good idea to mix business and personal affairs.

“Well,” Elizabeth said as she heard her sister throwing up in the bathroom, “that makes me feel better. At least now, I know this is getting to her.”

“Tell me about it,” Melinda said. “She is good at acting, though. I bought it all.”

“Me too, Mel. Me too. I tell you, that girl is super scary.”

“Remind me to never piss her off, Liz.”

“Hey! That’s my line.”

—–

Fifteen minutes later, Amy had regained her composure. She dried herself off and went back to the booth. Grabbing another Diet Pepsi from the cooler, she sat down and looked at her father.

John had been staring at his dead wife. He was next. He knew it and he almost welcomed it. The catch, though, was his sadistic daughter. She would not make this easy. He knew it and was terrified.

John had tried shaking his hips in an attempt to dislodge his dead wife’s vagina. It was futile. He would, it seemed, wear his wife’s tits and pussy until Amy removed them. He found that profoundly disturbing. Thinking back, though, he realized Amy was right. Being sorry now was worthless. If you only felt sorry because you were faced with the consequences of your actions, your repentance meant less than nothing.

A bang drew his attention to the door. Amy was back. She looked as if she had showered.

“In case you are wondering,” Amy said, “I could not stand that pig’s filth on my body so I needed a shower. I hope that gave you enough ‘quality time’ because now, I do not think you will have much attention to spare for that slut.”

“What are you going to do to me? What can you do to me? You already sodomized me. You castrated me. You have caused me more pain than I can imagine. Let me go, Amy. Please, let me go.”

Amy walked up to her father and let loose with a punch that shattered his right hip. He shrieked in pain and – had it not been for the stimulants – would have passed out. Stepping back, Amy waited for his cries of pain to subside. Eventually, they were reduced to whimpers.

“I told you earlier,” Amy said, “that I only wanted to hear two things from you: your cries of pain and your pleas for death. As for letting you go, forget it. You will die here. As for what I am going to do to you, well you will now find out for yourself.”

Amy went to the cart and got a chainsaw and the handheld torch. She went back to her father and, using the chainsaw, cut the left leg from his body. She used the torch to cauterize the wound. Then she used the torch to stop the bleeding from the severed leg. Blood on the leg would make it slippery and unwieldy.

She walked over to the pile of destroyed clothing and wiped her hand on a shirt. Taking the shirt with her, she wiped the blood off the severed leg. Tossing the shirt in the corner, she picked up the leg.

“You know,” Amy asked calmly. “I once heard this line in a movie where a guy threatens to rip someone’s arms off and beat them to death with them. Well, daddy, your arms are busy so this will have to do.”

Taking a few practice swings to see how the leg would react, she realized the knee was going to be a problem. If she hit her father with the front of the leg, the knee would just bend, blunting the force behind the swing. Turning the leg over, she swung it at her father, aiming to hit him with the back of the thigh. It worked perfectly.

“OOOOFFfffff,” John grunted as his severed leg connected with his abdomen, knocking the wind from him.

Amy smiled in delight. This had possibilities. Something was missing, though.

“Oh, yeah,” Amy said. “The bat.”

To her father’s dismay, she dropped the leg and retrieved the bat. Thinking she was going to beat him with the bat, he started to sob.

“No, Amy. Don’t hit me with the bat. I don’t think I could take that.”

“Oh, shut up, you big baby. I am not going to hit you with this…….at least, not yet.”

Amy stepped behind her father and shoved the fat part of the back up his ass again. John howled. It had been almost 40 minutes since she had fisted him and his asshole had tightened up again. This intrusion had no lubricant and he could feel the tissues in his rectum tearing as the wooden bat was inserted.

“Oh, fuuuuuuuck,” he groaned in pain, tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Does that hurt, daddy,” Amy asked with a smile. “Don’t worry. We are almost done.”

She picked up the leg and went back to work on his torso. She held back from using her full strength. She did not want to break him. As it was, he was physically bruised over most of his body when she was done. She had hit his shattered right hip a few times, causing howls of almost inhuman pain.

After about ten minutes, she pulled the bat from his ass and shoved the leg in foot-first. In the booth, Elizabeth and Melinda were shocked as they laughed at the sight of their father’s leg dangling from his asshole.

Amy picked up the pile of wasted clothing and piled it under her father’s hanging body. With one leg missing and the other hip destroyed, he would not be able to kick the pile away. Using the torch, she lit the pile of clothes and stepped back watching it burn.

The flames licked at his skin and John howled in agony and terror. Unbeknownst to anyone save Alanna and Amanda, this was his worst nightmare; being burned alive.

“Amy, no……please Amy, anything but this. Noooo……please Amy, stop this. Please!!!!”

Amy was torn. She wanted him to feel this pain, but the discomfort she felt after killing Alanna was returning.

“AMY,” John howled, “AMY…..AMY….PLEASE STOP THIS……I CAN’T TAKE IT. I’M BURNING. PLEEEEEEEEEEASE, AMY! KILL ME……..KILL ME…….KILL MEEEEEEE!”

Amy smiled as she hefted the bat.

“All you had to do was ask, daddy,” Amy said pleasantly.

She walked up to him and with all her strength, she swung the bat at his chest. There was a terrifyingly loud crunch as the bad destroyed her father’s ribs and pulverized his heart. He swung wildly, the chain coming off of the hook, and fell to the floor.

Amy dropped the bat and walked to her father. Looking at his face, she saw his eyes cloud over as death approached.

“Thank you, Amy,” John said weakly. “I just……just couldn’t handle the…..the fire.”

Closing his eyes for the last time, he coughed violently, blood spewing from his mouth. A moment later, he was dead.

—–

Amy did not even run to the bathroom. She fell to her knees and threw up violently. All the hate and anger she felt was leaving her. The evil bastards responsible for the deaths of her sisters and mother were dead. Amy had barely enough time to wonder if she was becoming an evil bastard, herself, when Elizabeth and Melinda were suddenly there, helping Amy to her feet.

“C’mon, little sister,” Melinda said. “It’s over. Let’s get out of here.”

“No,” Amy said resolutely, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “It is not over yet. We have one more chore here.”

Amy left the room and, a few minutes later, returned with a 55-gallon drum of gasoline.

“Earlier today,” Amy said, “I arranged for fifty of these things to be brought here. They are scattered throughout the rooms on this floor. There are explosives wired to one of the barrels in each room. When the timer hits zero, the bomb will blow, igniting the gasoline. When the flames finally go out, there will be nothing recognizable of these two.”

“Wow,” Elizabeth said. “Why? This facility is four stories underground. It is unlikely that anyone will find this place.”

“Alanna found it 12 years ago,” Melinda commented. “Other people have to know about it as well.”

“Alanna made the mistake of recording the murders 12 years ago. There was evidence left behind. I am not going to make that mistake. When the authorities investigate, they will find nothing here but ash. I have four more barrels outside the door. Help me move them in, please.”

The older sisters did as they were asked. As they were walking up the last flight of stairs, heading to the door that would lead them outside, they heard a muffled boom.

“There go the bombs,” Amy said. “In about an hour, smoke will start to escape from this door.”

“Only because you turned on the fans directing it here.”

“True, but I made sure that I left no fingerprints.”

“But why,” Elizabeth asked. “Why direct the smoke out here?”

“The toxicity of the fumes down there will make it dangerous for anyone who goes down there. It is almost winter. Homeless people will be looking for a warm place to stay. I do not want them dying down there because of us. This will get the attention of the authorities and they will clean it up or put up warning signs. Anyway, let’s go meet Ed.”

“Are you going to kill Johnny,” Melinda asked.

“No. He is innocent. I know what I said to Alanna, but he is really innocent in all of this.”

“Where will he stay,” Melinda asked. “His parents are dead.”

“Do you really have to ask,” Amy asked incredulously. “He will stay with Ed. The medical treatment was a success. He will still live for a while, yet.”

“Yeah,” Elizabeth said. “Enough talk. Let’s go catch our flight.”

There can be few places as deceptive as Nether Slype.  The churches are well attended and the all children say their prayers.  Such presumably innocent pleasures as the fete, the sack race, and the village pantomime are milestones in its calendar.  There are also summer and winter sports gatherings, though all these events, I later learned, are curiously unique to the village.  There are two pubs, a school, two shops — one with a post office — a tea rooms where the old ladies gossip, and a Saturday market where you can buy anything from a home-made cake to an antique grandfather clock.  The village garage takes forever to fix your car, the mobile bank comes once a week, and the small library boasts the 1974 edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica.  The few Saturday-night drunks are harmless; there is no vandalism and no rowdiness, which is as well, because Jack, the village bobby, couldn’t handle more than the mildest altercation.

Nether Slype nestles among wooded hills, and the woods encroach into it.  It is a place of nooks and crannies, green shades, cool shadows, high hedges, privacy, and footways.  There are bridleways where big-bottomed, bouncing-bosomed girls ride their ponies and other things besides — very vigorously.  The long, curling, hedge-rowed lanes are overarched with heavy branches of wimpling leaves.  The river murmurs under the mediaeval bridge, flowing fresh and clean, down from the higher hills on the Welsh borderland.  You’ll see an occasional fly-angler there, standing midstream in his waders, his fly whipping back and forth across the sparkling water; but their numbers are few and they’re all local, for no one comes to Nether Slype to fish; in fact, hardly anyone comes to Nether Slype at all.

Nearly all the villagers marry within the community — and they firmly believe in marriage.  I am aware of the commonly held urban belief that rural folk are interbred, but there is little risk of that in Nether Slype, with its population of twelve hundred, and Long Wallop, two miles up the valley, with a further six hundred, not to mention Threshers Bottom, over the hill, with another five hundred.  Therefore, as I’ve learned, few in this hidden, tucked-away place look beyond the three villages for a mate, which might account for a number of their local quirks.

I found Nether Slype by accident, as you must, for no one goes there by design or drives through it by accident, because the narrow twisting lane that winds six miles from the A road is unsignposted and goes nowhere else, except Long Wallop and Threshers Bottom.  But many years ago, I took a wrong turning.  I drove for miles with no clue where I was going.  Several times, I nearly turned back, but when I had almost given up hope of arriving anywhere other than a dead end in a farmyard, I came to a rise, and looked down through a gap in the birch trees.

It was autumn, and there below me, thrusting up from a tousled leafscape of greens, ambers, and reds, I saw a mediaeval church tower, and on the further hillside, four conical-roofed turrets peered over the trees towards me, as though a watchful castle hid in the forest there.  So I drove for another mile, the trees thinned slightly, and cottages appeared to left and right, peeping slyly from behind high hedges of yew, beech, and blackthorn.

I saw an elderly couple walking arthritically up the lane towards me.  Winding down my window, I leant out and called, “Excuse me.  I’m  lost.  I was wondering—”

With a sprightliness I wouldn’t have thought possible, the old couple recoiled and scuttled behind the nearest hedge.  Their reaction wouldn’t surprise me now, of course — they don’t like talking to strangers in the three villages — but on that day, it perplexed me.

I drove on; the cottages drew closer and became more regular, yet all seemed to hide behind something — hedges, large shrubs, or weeping trees.  Then, suddenly, the vista opened before me and I drove out onto a large village green, with a few shady, monumental oaks and a lilied pond at its centre where ducks quacked and geese honked deafeningly.  Close by stood ancient stocks and whipping post that looked remarkably well maintained.  Dotted all around were ancient cottages, timbered or red-tiled; tumbledown irregular cottages with shutters, nooks, and many corners, cellars, rambling attics, and tall chimneys with weathercocks on them.  I saw a couple of shops with bowed and bulls-eyed windows, and what looked like a moot hall.  Behind it rose the mediaeval church tower, solid and timeless.

Outside a timbered pub, curiously named The Seven Stripes, a group of locals sat on a bench drinking beer.  I drove up, but I was only half way out of the car before they leapt to their feet in alarm and scuttled inside.   I followed them in.  I needed directions and I was also thirsty.  As I walked into the bar, the conversation stopped like the fall of an executioner’s axe.  I looked around to see twelve pairs of dilated eyes swimming at me.  Ahead of me, the landlord, a large florid man with red hair, was wiping the bar.

“What can we do for you, stranger?” he asked in a surly voice that told me he would rather do nothing at all.

“I’m lost,” I said simply.

He gave me a half smile.  “Strangers always are.  Where are you trying to get to?”

I told him.

“Well,” he said.  “You know the road you took to get here?”

“Yes.”

“Take it and drive back out again.”

I stared at him hard.  What he’d said to me sounded like a roundabout way of hoisting two fingers and saying “Fuck off”.  But he read my reaction, unbent a fraction, and shook his head with a wintry smile.

“I’m not being funny, stranger.  There’s only one road out of Nether Slype that goes anywhere much.  That’s the one you came in on.  So wherever you’re going, that’s the one you need to take.”

“Then why did you ask where I was going?”

He shrugged.  “On the off chance you were looking for somewhere close by.”  He smirked.  “But I didn’t think it likely.”

I supposed it sounded fair enough.  I ordered a beer and looked around.  Country pubs are frequently hung with horse brasses and bits of tack, all ersatz, but the décor of The Seven Stripes looked genuine, and appeared to reflect its history as a coaching inn, being an assortment of straps, whips, chains, and what looked like bits and harnesses.  There were also some leg irons and manacles, a scolds’ bridle, and a thumbscrew.  I assumed that convicts had once been transported through the village and kept manacled at The Seven Stripes overnight.

I have never drunk beer in such a tactile silence.  While I consumed my pint — which was outstanding —  the twelve pairs of suspicious eyes never left me, not a word was uttered, not a floorboard creaked, not a glass was lifted other than mine.  I left the pub reflecting that, in remote villages, such a reception must be regarded as part of the local charm, and I soon put it from my mind, for as I drove round the village green, past all the quaint, old-world cottages, and back along the leafy lane, I fell in love with the place — it’s picturesque antiquity, and most of all its remoteness, hidden in its folds of woodland, a precious perfumed relict of an England I had thought lost for ever, and I swore that one day that I would return to live there.

*****

I am a writer by trade.  I have no pretensions so I don’t call it a vocation.  I published my first novel when I was thirty.  It was a middling success, but enough of one to encourage me to pursue my craft.  My reputation gradually grew, and finally I was able to give up the day job and seriously consider moving to the soft, secluded delights of Nether Slype.  I now had adequate means, so I thought it would be easy, but I discovered in the event that it was anything but.

My first problem was finding the local estate agent’s telephone number.  None was listed on the Internet, or in any telephone directory.  I tried to order a local paper from my newsagent but drew a blank there.  None seemed to exist and the nearest town’s local paper made no mention of the village.  None of the main estate-agent chains had a branch there or had even heard of the place.

So I went back there one late summer’s day.  The trees were more deeply in leaf than before and I found myself driving down the lane of yew hedges and set-back cottages before I even realised I had entered the village again.  It being a Saturday, more people were about, but as soon as I started to drive round the green, they all vanished like smoke into doorways, or down side alleys.  It was as though word had gone round that marauding Vikings had arrived to rape and pillage.  I drove round the green until I saw a window with some photographs of properties in it.  As I entered, a grey man sitting at a large, dusty partnership desk looked up at me and goggled, as though I’d sprouted a second head.

“Can I help you?” he enquired in a surly voice, giving the unmistakeable impression that he wasn’t prepared to help me at all.

I told him that I was looking for a cottage in or around the village.

“There aren’t any available,” he said flatly.

“So what are the properties in the window?”

“Not for you.  You’re not from the village, are you!” he asked in a tone of voice that sounded like a deadly accusation.

“Er, no.  But—”

“Nor from Long Wallop or Threshers Bottom either, I’ll be bound!”

“Well, no.  But—”

“Didn’t think so.  I’d have recognised you.   No family here either I presume?”

“None at all.  But why should any of this be relevant?”  I asked sharply, stung by his rude, negative attitude.

“Because all the land and properties round the valley are owned by Lord Shackles.  They’re leased to villagers and no one but villagers.”

My disappointment was crushing.  “Is there no way at all of acquiring one?”  I asked.

“You could petition his lordship.”  The man sniggered unpleasantly.  “But it won’t get you anywhere.”

“Why not?”

He sniggered again.  “Try, and you’ll find out.”

After much remonstrating, I obtained his lordship’s address at Nether Towers, the turreted pile I had seen peeping through the trees on my fondly remembered previous visit.  Back home, I drafted several letters to him, but the estate agent’s comments gave me pause.  If I enquired and he refused, as the estate agent’s manner had suggested probable, then I would have shot my one and only bolt, and that would be that.  So I spoke to Celia, my literary agent, who offered to make some discreet enquiries on my behalf that might hopefully give me some idea of how to proceed.

This too proved fruitless at the outset.  Try Googling Nether Slype, Threshers Bottom, or Long Wallop, and the engine returns “not found”, and this result holds true for any Internet search.  The three villages were like Brigadoon, appearing only when you drove into them from the winding lane through the woods, and then vanishing from the face of the earth when you left.

At last, Celia found a single obscure newspaper reference to a Colonel Gremdyck Flaythm from Nether Slype, who had mysteriously disappeared from the front in the Great War.  No body had ever been found, and no trace of him had emerged since.  He, like the village, had mysteriously vanished.  There were many who vanished like that in the trenches, had deserted or been blown to pieces, and the intelligence at first glance, appeared to be of no use to me.

But then my writer’s imagination took hold and I started to invent a subsequent biography for the colonel, and a possible means of worming my way into Lord Shackles’ good graces.

I thought it best not to imply that Colonel Flaythm had deserted for any reason; Lord Shackles might not like that.  So I decided that he had received a glancing blow to the head from a piece of shrapnel and wandered off, bewildered, into no-man’s land.  He had been captured, but as he was suffering from profound amnesia, his captors could not identify him and advise their British counterparts of who he was.  However, his ardent British blood remained pure (I felt Lord Shackles would like that).  He subsequently escaped from incarceration, still not knowing who he was, and, after many subsequent adventures through Eastern Europe, Siberia, and Tibet, he had finally surfaced in the remote outback of Australia, where he lived out the remainder of his life under the assumed name of Bruce Brown.

Late in life his memory had returned, but being married, and a pillar of his community, he had continued his subterfuge, confiding the truth to his son, my fictional grandfather, only on his deathbed.  Since then, his family had wandered the dissolving Empire, being pushed from colony to colony as it broke up.  Along the way the name had reverted to Flaythm and I, the alleged last of the line, had returned only recently to England in search of my long lost relations and my roots.

Before acquainting Lord Shackles with my new history, I reinvented myself completely, changing my name to Flaythm by deed pole and setting all my affairs in order under that name.  I have always cherished my anonymity — I write under a pen name — and having no family, there was absolutely no emotional or other difficulty in this.  Indeed, I enjoyed the sense of adventure it gave me.  So this done, I wrote a tearful and harrowing account of my Flaythm family’s history since that fateful day in 1915, couched in suitably servile language, and posted it to Lord Shackles.  I then sat back, prepared for a long wait, and the possibility, even now, of a blunt refusal.

So I was overjoyed when, only a few days later, I received a reply, not from his lordship but his wife, Lady Griselda Shackles, telling me how my tale had moved her to tears, and inviting me to attend an interview at Nether Towers.  This invitation I immediately accepted in the most excruciatingly obsequious terms, and a few days later, I was driving up from the village of Nether Slype to the turreted pile on the hillside.

1. Interview

Nether Towers is a castellated, eighteenth-century country mansion of buttresses and Gothic windows, topped with crenulated battlements, pointed turrets, tall twisted chimneys, and dragons, straight out of William Beckford or Ann Radcliffe.  It stands in a charming wooded glade of lush grass and rampant wild flowers ringed with the screen of dense trees that obscures everything in Nether Slype, though the view back along the approach provides a wonderful view across the valley.  It arrested me when I got out of the car — a panorama of wooded, tousled hills, winding lanes, and red-tiled cottage roofs, and beyond, the higher, blue hills of the Welsh borderland.  As I stood there, I prayed as I had never prayed, that my ruse might work, so I could live in this enchanted place.

I rang the bell and the great double-doors were thrown open by a grave butler in a tailcoat, with a bald crown and two wings of iron-grey hair neatly combed back over both ears.  He confirmed that I was expected, and he directed me to wait in the gloomy wainscoted hallway, whose walls were dense with generations of Shackles in oils.  They scowled down at me from aloof heights while I patiently waited for the butler’s return, for he had gone to inform Lady Shackles of my arrival.

As I waited, a piercing scream and a peal of diabolical laughter from the bowels of the mansion shattered the peace.

“Bring me a wench and I’ll flog her fucking arse off!”

I jumped up startled, casting about for the source of this violent outburst.  As I did so, the butler returned and told me that Lady Shackles was ready to receive me.  He made no mention of the outburst, which he must have heard, but merely coughed, and said that her ladyship was waiting in her office.  I asked him to lead the way, but we hadn’t gone more than a dozen steps before a second peal of diabolical laughter rent the air.

“Bring me a wench and I’ll flog her fucking cunt off!”

The butler’s gravity deepened, and he deferentially cleared his throat.  “His lordship, I’m afraid, sir.  You’d might as well know.  He’s, er . . . how can I delicately put it?”

“Suffering some unfortunate mental health problem?”

“Not quite, sir.  To use the exact medical terminology, he’s barking mad, sir.  We’ve been obliged to confine him to the dungeons.”

I do not know whether I was surprised or amused.  “You have dungeons here?”

The butler looked aghast.  “Of course we have dungeons.”

After a few further steps, he tapped his knuckles on an oak-panelled door and opened it.  Beyond, sitting at a large desk was an aloof and horsey looking woman of about forty, typical of her breed, with a large nose, a weak chin, and two prominent teeth that overhung her protruding lower lip.  Her profuse chestnut hair was scraped back into a bun.

The deferential butler cleared his throat once more.  “Mr Owen Flaythm, ma’am.”

She smiled and rose to greet me, and I saw that she was dressed for riding in hacking jacket, jodhpurs, and knee boots.  Her large and apparently firm bust surged through the opening in the jacket like Niagara Falls in the wet season, and she vigorously slapped her thigh with a riding crop as she strode purposefully across the wide room towards me.  As she approached, she extended her free hand, which, I noticed, dripped jewels.

“Mr Flaythm,” she lisped through the gap in her front teeth.  “I’m Griselda Shackles.  Welcome to Nether Towers.”

I almost took the hand and shook it, but somewhere from the depths of my subconscious, a cautionary voice shouted, No!  Therefore, stooping slightly, I took the tips of the gem-encrusted fingers in my own and lightly kissed them.  “A profound honour and a pleasure to meet your ladyship.”

As I straightened, I saw that she was beaming; her riding crop slapped her thigh even more enthusiastically than before.

“I knew it, I knew it,” she gushed, ogling me from head to toe.  “Every inch a Flaythm.  The manners.  The poise.  The easy and natural subservience to the social superior.”  She lurched towards me and seized my arm.  Her grip was like a vice.  “Come!  Come to the window and let me take a good look at you!”

She marched me by the arm into a deep window recess, where I was obliged to pose for inspection while she clucked all round me.  “No question.  No question at all.  You have the Flaythm nose, the Flaythm brow, the deep Flaythm upper lip — you could grow a magnificent moustache.  No doubt of it.  Magnificent!”

I heard the deferential butler cough.  A spasm of annoyance crossed Lady Shackles’ face, and she turned and sniffed.

“What is it, Thwacks?” she demanded coldly.

“I regret to inform you, ma’am, that his lordship seems to be becoming . . . er . . . how shall I put it?  Agitated again.”

Lady Shackles’ slapped her thigh with the riding crop so hard that I flinched.  “Oh very well,” she sighed with clear annoyance.  “Send a girl down!”

It seemed an odd response.  Surely, the poor man needed a physician or nurse, not a girl.  But the impeccable Thwacks merely bowed.  “Immediately, ma’am.”

When the butler had gone about his strange business, Lady Shackles directed me to a deep sofa.  She flung her riding crop onto the desk and surprised me by stripping off her jacket.  As she flexed her muscular shoulder back to slip it off, I couldn’t help noticing that her bust was truly monumental, and jutted with surprising firmness.

“Might as well make ourselves comfortable, Mr Flaythm,” she announced briskly, throwing herself vigorously into the armchair facing me, and smoothing her blouse over her thrusting curves, as if for my appreciation.  “Of course, some said you had to be an imposter,” she confided.  “And I confess I entertained doubts myself.  But now I have met you no doubt remains.  None at all.  You are every inch a Flaythm.  Every inch.  And so you shall remain.”

“I only hope the others concur, your ladyship.”

She swatted the notion waspishly away.  “Peasants, Mr Flaythm!  They don’t count.  I and I alone am mistress here.  My opinion alone matters.  They do as they’re told.”

“Of course, your ladyship.”

“Of course!  Precisely!  You understand.  You’re a Flaythm,” she lisped softly, and I noticed that her eyes were wandering all over me again.  “Now, you said you wished to trace your relations.  I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed there.  Your great grandfather, the colonel, had but one sibling, a brother.  He in turn had only the one child, and that child died without issue.  So I’m afraid you’re the last of the Flaythms.”

I affected deep sadness at the news, but I was secretly relieved.  Living relatives might have been a complication, one I was prepared to deal with, but life would be much simpler without them.

“So you’ll have to find yourself a wife,” said Lady Shackles enthusiastically, throwing one booted leg over her chair arm and showing me the leather crotch of her riding jodhpurs.  “Get busy and produce lots of children.  In the meantime, I shall ensure that you are fully and immediately accepted into the three villages, as is your due.  Otherwise it might take years.”

I was genuinely elated.  “So you’ll allow me to live here, after all, your ladyship?”

“But of course.  The Flaythms have served the Shackles for centuries.  You are one of us, and, as a Flaythm, you will enjoy considerable prestige here . . . so long as you do as you’re told.”

“Of course, Lady Shackles,” I assured her, terrified of putting a foot wrong.  My ruse had succeeded more surely and swiftly than I could have hoped.  “And I’ll happily serve you any capacity you deem appropriate.”

She smirked, slowly regarding me under heavy eyelids.  “Indeed you shall.  Now,” she added, briskly again.  “I assume you have adequate financial means?”

“Yes your ladyship.  As I told you, my grandfather prospered in South Africa and produced a fortune in diamonds.  My father foolishly lost much if it, but enough remains for me to enjoy a substantial private income.”

“Yet, despite that, you still wish to return to Nether Slype?”

I feigned emotion.  “Of course, your ladyship.  It’s . . . it’s  . . . my home.”

Unexpectedly, she leapt out of her chair towards me, perched herself on the arm of my sofa, and placed her hand on my shoulder.  Her encrusted fingers gripped it with remarkable strength.  “Oh Mr Flaythm,” she said as her eyes bore into mine with fierce rapture.  “You are a prodigal returned, and you are more than welcome.  I look forward to our developing a close and fruitful association.  Indeed, a close and fruitful friendship, for I have no doubt that we shall becomes friends . . . very firm friends.”

“You fill me with rapture, your ladyship,” I croaked, biting back my crocodile tears in the way I thought a Flaythm ought, and reflecting that I’d well and truly fallen on my feet.

“Good man!  That’s the spirit!  That’s the Flaythm style!”

She strode back to her chair, flung her leg back over the arm, and her eyes continued to wander all over me.  We talked about where I might live.  To give my pose credence, I had converted all my assets into liquid form, and deposited most in a South African bank.  When I told her ladyship that I could install myself in the village at a few days notice it was the literal truth.  She appeared overjoyed and decided to give me a large, rambling cottage on the village outskirts, as befitted my apparently high status.

“It’s only six bedrooms, but that’ll do for the time being.”

“Time being?”

“Until you find a wife, of course.  That won’t be a problem for you; we have a huge surplus of available women here.  And you’re a Flaythm, so you can take your pick of them.  But I counsel you to choose wisely and not weaken your Flaythm blood.  And then,” she added enthusiastically, “when you’ve found a suitable woman, get down to it with a will and impregnate her, time and time again!  You owe it to your ancestors to perpetuate the Flaythm line.”

I blushed.  “Of course, Lady Shackles.  I’ll follow your generous  advice — naturally.”

While we spoke, I studied the room.  It was the sort of panelled affair you expect to find in such an old country mansion, lined with ancient, dusty books of no possible interest or value, and even duller pictures of horsey looking men and women with large noses, weak chins, and protruding teeth, whom I assumed to be Griselda Shackles’ own ancestors.  One arrested me though: a brutal looking, florid-faced man in the tricorn hat and naval uniform of Napoleonic times.  He was standing proudly in front of what appeared to be a mountain of steak tartare.  Beneath the picture, in a glass exhibition case, lay a heavy cat of nine tails, though it looked more like a cat of fifteen or twenty tails, all knotted at intervals and embellished with vicious hooks, spikes, and other spiteful ironmongery.

Lady Shackles noticed my interest, and she positively glowed.  “Ah!  I see you’ve noticed my great ancestor, Admiral Lord Horatio Shackles!”

“My grandfather spoke of him many times, your ladyship,” I lied fluently, reasoning that he would have done so, had he existed, and hoping that she wasn’t going to test me with awkward questions.

“Of course he would.  We’re so very proud of the admiral.”  Her face flushed with ancestral joy.  “Just think.  The only Royal Navy officer ever to flog his entire crew to death in a single session,” she added with deep relish.  “And he did it with his own hand, you know.  Ripped out their backs in bloody gobbets.  Every last one of them.”

I tried not to blench.  “So I understand, your ladyship.  An outstanding feat of, er . . . seamanship, to be sure.”

“And so efficient!  Amazing!  Truly amazing!  He started work after a late breakfast of oysters and Champagne, you know, and he finished the work well before elevenses.”

“Stupendous,” I simpered.  What else could I say?

“And as you must already know, his second in command, Captain Rickett Flaythm, stepped forward and gallantly offered to hold his coat for him while he administered the punishment.”

“Indeed, your ladyship,” I choked.  “It’s a matter of immense family pride to us.”

“Yes, a superb testimony to the captain’s breeding and the Shackles Patent Flogger’s efficacy.”  She walked across the glass case like a woman in a dream, her face alight with enthusiasm.  I noticed how her well-developed horsewoman’s buttocks heaved and strained like two bound slaves against the tight captivity of her jodhpurs.  “And here it is.”  She gazed down at the grotesque object in the exhibition case.  “The very flogger the admiral used to achieve his stupendous feat.  It’s an inspiration, Mr Flaythm.”

“I’m overawed to be in its presence,” I lied, trying to look away from the hideous thing.

She gazed up at the portrait of the monstrous admiral, her hands clasped in schoolgirl rapture.  “And there he is, standing proudly before the product of his achievement.  Just think — eight hundred men ripped to pieces in less than three hours . . . .  It makes the blood surge.”

I suddenly realised what the steak tartare really was, and my gorge rose.

“Of course, had the spineless Admiralty been wise enough to adopt the Shackles Patent Flogger, there would have been no mutinies at Spithead and the Nore.  The men would have learned the true meaning of the words, discipline, and punishment.”

“Without a doubt, your ladyship,” I dutifully crowed, despite myself.  “A criminal folly.”

“Criminal.  Lamentable.  Softness, Mr Flaythm.  Softness.  That’s the country’s ill.  We seem to have forgotten all about discipline.”

“To our great cost,” I resolutely toadied.  “A national disgrace.”

“Except in Nether Slype, of course,” she said, vigorously marching back to the desk and retrieving her riding crop.  “No silly softness here.  No insolence.  No disobedience.”  As she said this, she slashed her thigh three times, so hard that I winced.  “The three villages are the last stronghold of the firm hand, the disciplinarian, as I’m sure your grandfather told you.”

“Indeed, your ladyship, and thank heaven for it,” I chorused without fully understanding the implications of her tirade — though perhaps I should have twigged by then.  “No weak, watery, namby-pamby shilly-shallying here, thank God.”

“Oh, Mr Flaythm!”  She tossed her riding crop over her shoulder, positively skipped across the room to me, all girlish and gushing.  “This is a true meeting of minds.  A wonderful day for both of us.  Just think!  The Shackles and the Flaythms united again after all this time — mistress and servant.  And friends too.  True friends, I hope.”

“Your deep condescension overwhelms me with joy.”

She took my hands in hers wrung them with unnerving intensity, almost breaking my fingers.  I noticed that her breathing had shortened.  “Oh Mr Flaythm.  Not half so much joy as your return promises to give me.”

I finger of apprehension touched me.  “I don’t think I quite understand your ladyship,” I stammered.

“Don’t you?  Come, come, Mr Flaythm, you’re a man of the world.”  She paused.  “And yet you probably have little idea what it’s like for me here?  This life . . . this cold friendless existence . . . alone and blue-blooded among peasants . . . and other inferiors . . . with a mad, slavering, sexually impotent husband, chained in the dungeons.  No one I can trust . . . no one I can turn to . . . confide in . . . open my heart to.  No one with whom I can . . . can . . . can . . . .”

“Can what, Lady Shackles?”

“Can I be brutally frank with you?  I feel I can talk intimately to you as I could to no other without soiling myself.  Please?”

I swallowed.  “You do me too much honour, your ladyship.”

“Very well.”  She paused, smoothing her blouse and pointing her magnificent bust directly at my nose.  “I must be blunt.  Have you any idea how cold and empty my bed is, Mr Flaythm?”

“Your ladyship?”

“I don’t mean physically cold, of course.  I have countless hot water bottles.  And if I chose, I could summon any well-hung man in the three villages to service me to satisfaction whenever I wished.  But, of course, I cannot.”

I swallowed again.  “Cannot?  But surely—”

“The considerations of class, Mr Flaythm!  How could I allow a dirty peasant to crawl up my nightie, no matter how well equipped he was for the job of sexually gratifying me?”

I hadn’t anticipated this turn in the conversation.  Perhaps I should have.  I cleared my throat.  “Perish the thought, your ladyship.”

“Indeed!”  She paused and looked at me steadily.  “You understand.  Of course you do.”  A slow smile crept furtively across her face.  Her hand slipped surreptitiously to my knee and started working slowly up my thigh, while her eyes smouldered provocatively into mine.  “Yes.  I’m sure you understand — perfectly.”

I suddenly realised what she had meant when she said, not half so much joy as your return promises to give me.  I blushed — I’m sure I did.  Fighting her off would probably ruin my prospects of moving to the village.  On the other hand, I reasoned that giving her what she obviously wanted wouldn’t trouble me at all.  She was a provocatively built woman, despite the teeth, though I felt I’d rather not do it in the presence of the steak tartare and the patent flogger.

In the event, I was rescued by a sudden knocking at the office door.  With a spasm of alarm, Lady Shackles leapt up as though electrocuted, and fled back across the room towards her large desk.

“Enter!” she snapped, when she’d gained some composure.

The door opened and Thwacks the immaculate butler entered and bowed.

“What is it, Thwacks?” Lady Shackles demanded coldly, looking dramatically away from him.

The balls of Thwacks’ fingers and thumbs twitched together, as though he were rubbing fat into delicate pastry.  He cleared his throat, drew himself up to his full height, and addressed the ceiling.  “I regret to inform you, ma’am, that his lordship seems to be becoming . . . er . . . how can I delicately put it?  Agitated again.”

“Again?  But we sent him a girl not one hour ago!”

Thwacks coughed deferentially.  “His lordship seems to have . . .  er . . . finished with that one, ma’am.”

“Already?”

“So it would appear.”

“Very well.  Send down another.  But that’s the last for today — there’s a limit to my indulgence.”

Thwacks bowed.  “Very good, ma’am.”

He started to withdraw backwards at a dignified stoop, but Lady Shackles stopped him.  “Before you do that, you can show Mr Flaythm out.”  She turned to me and extended her hand, smiling warmly, while her eyes again wandered all over me.  “I’d better let you go while I still can, dear Mr Flaythm,” she simpered through her front teeth.  “I’m sure we can pursue any outstanding matters at a more opportune time and place.”

Her meaning was plain, and it certainly suited me to delay payment for her generosity until after I was securely ensconced in my cottage.  I rose, bowed over the jewel-encrusted fingers, and kissed them again.

I turned to leave while Thwacks stood aside for me.  As a walked through the door I distinctly heard Lady Shackles lisp, “Until we meet again . . . Owen” in such a smoky voice that Thwacks’ eyebrows abruptly rose and his eyes popped, though his po-face remained set in stone.

Thwacks and I retraced our steps to the gloomy, wainscoted hall, where generations of Shackles sneered down at me from the shadowy walls as though they, at least, knew me for an impostor.

Suddenly, a shriek of diabolical laughter from the deep bowels of the building rent the air.

“Bring me a wench and I’ll flog her fucking tits off!”

“We’d best hurry if you don’t mind, sir,” urged Thwacks.  “His lordship seems particularly agitated today.  It’s almost—” He looked at me guardedly. “—almost as if he knows you’re here, sir.”  He paused and glanced up nervously at all the ancestors.  “Strange.”

Indeed it was.  I had no idea what he meant and might have asked him, but another thought was uppermost in my mind.

“The girls?”  I asked, as he held one of the great front doors ajar for me and positively thrust me through the opening.  “What do they do down there?”

“Do, sir?”  The balls of Thwacks’ fingers and thumbs rubbed together again, I thought a trifle nervously.

“Yes!  Do!”

“I suppose that you might say that they provide his lordship with the necessary remedial treatment for his condition, sir.”

Enlightenment dawned, or so I thought at the time.  “Ah!  I see.  They’re trained therapists.”

Thwacks cleared his throat yet again, and his face remained impassive.  “I suppose you might say that too, sir,” he murmured, and the door closed.

1. Dark Designs

As I drove back towards London, I reflected that there were advantages and disadvantages to my remarkable progress.  I would soon be installed in a substantial cottage in the village of my dreams, and it was clear that I would be welcomed and given a status I had never expected, and didn’t particularly want — but never mind about that.   I also would also enjoy the close and avid support of Lady Griselda Shackles, provided I played my cards right.

That was a two-edged sword.  There would be obvious advantages to a close relationship with her.  She clearly wanted me to shag her, a small price to pay for the cottage and the lifestyle I was promised to enjoy, and I wondered what other sweeteners and emoluments she might offer if I shagged her to her complete satisfaction.  I entertained no doubt that I would satisfy her, in bed at least.  I am not a braggart by nature but the women I’ve bedded over the years have never expressed disappointment.  Besides, despite her nose and her front teeth, Lady Shackles’ body would be more than acceptable when the light was out.  Once I got to grips, I would have no problem giving her what she wanted — or so I thought.

On the other hand, there would be consequences, perhaps terminal ones, if I ever tried to withdraw from whatever arrangement she decided suited her, or if I disappointed her in other ways.  What if I made other women friends and she became jealous?  What if I fell in love with another woman?  What if Griselda Shackles fell in love with me and demanded more than a good stiff weekly poke?  She had made it perfectly clear that she was totally in charge of everything and everyone in the three villages.  I had no doubt that she could handle her authority, and would be every bit as ruthless as Admiral Shackles if crossed.  Yes, there was no doubt of that at all, and she would be holding all the cards.  And I was less than enthusiastic about her evident love of whips, crops, and patent floggers.  I don’t mind a bit of spanking, provided I’m the one administering it, but I did not intend to be Griselda Shackles’ whip slave.

So did I still want to move to Nether Slype and live in her cottage on her terms, as a sort of glorified sex serf?  I most certainly did.  Or, to say the least, I was prepared to give it my best shot.  I loved the place and had set my heart on living there years before.  I also knew that I was an intelligent and resourceful man; I had no doubt that given time I would be able to forge a more equable and even-handed arrangement with Lady Shackles than she probably had in mind.  Moreover, I assumed that I was far better able than the other villagers to protect myself if she became difficult or spiteful, and that I appreciated better than the other villagers, the differences between her perceptions, and stark reality.  She might think that she was lady of the manor, and the rest of us peasants without rights.  In reality, of course, we did have rights, civil right, tenant’s rights, even human right — which can cover just about anything you want them too, provided you can hire a good lawyer.

And I certainly had the means to do that.  If she ever threatened me, she would have to deal with counter-threats in turn.  At least, I thought so at the time.

*****

They didn’t put the bunting up round the village on the afternoon I arrived, together with the van Lady Shackles had sent to my London address to transport my possessions.  On the other hand, bunting was the only thing missing, apart from the brass band.  A group of local dignitaries greeted me at my front door and immediately whisked me up to Nether Towers for an arrival party in the grounds — where there was a band, a marquee, and bunting by the mile, threaded between the encircling trees.  Despite her ladyship’s deeply held convictions about social class, the entire village appeared to have been invited, and I was introduced to so many people that I became giddy.  Lady Shackles herself took little notice of me beyond formally shaking my hand and making a speech of welcome to a respectfully silent and bareheaded audience.

It wasn’t until about half past six, when the crowd was melting away down the hill towards their homes, that we finally spoke confidentially.  I had looked for her, fearing that it would be impolite to leave without thanking her for her welcome, and I had become lost in a tangle of yew hedges — some sort of maze — when she crept up behind me.

“BOOH!”

I leapt out of my skin, crashed back to earth, and turned to find her standing there, still wearing her riding habit, and vigorously slapping her thighs with her crop as she laughed at her schoolgirl joke.

“If I wasn’t a fit man, you could have given me a heart attack,” I complained, forgetting my manners for a moment.

She became suddenly seriously.  She stepped up to me and slid her hand inside my jacket, where she stroked my flank.  “I hope you are fit, Owen,” she lisped in my ear.  “You’ll be no good to me if you’re not.”

“Fit enough,” I laughed, a little bashfully for a man of my experience, for her meaning was plain.

“And you’ll stay to dinner?”

She couched it as a question, but I knew she meant it as a command.  Oh well, I thought.  Looks like I’m on shagging duty tonight already.  Just so long as she leaves her riding crop downstairs!

Upper-crust dinners can be tedious affairs, especially when there are only two of you, sitting at opposite ends of a table so long that the food can be served piping hot at one end and au froid when it finally reaches the other — though in this case there were two substantial compensations.

She had left me to amuse myself for a while in the library, which was crammed with more leather-backed books and more chinless portraiture, while she went upstairs to change out of her hacking jacket and jodhpurs into “something more suitable for the occasion”.  It certainly was — a figure-hugging, low-cut dress of dark yet iridescent silk, held up by nothing but the incredible firmness of her magnificent breasts, and revealing a yard of cleavage so deep that I longed to plunge into headfirst into it.  We walked to the dining room arm-in-arm, in the time-honoured fashion, but when she turned to take her seat, her buttocks undulated so provocatively under their tight restraint that I struggled to keep my hands off them, reflecting that if Lord Shackles hadn’t been able to produce a rock-hard erection over his wife’s body, he couldn’t produce one over anything.

I no longer noticed the prominent teeth, the weak chin, and the horsey nose as I sat there at the opposite end of the long table undressing her in my mind, taking out those mouth-watering breasts sucking her plump nipples, running my hands over her firm round bottom, parting her legs, and getting stuck in with a will.  She would have no cause to complain of my efforts, not tonight at least, not the way I was feeling.

The conversation over dinner was desultory, as it must be when two serving men are perched on your elbow like carrion crows, outraged ancestors are glaring down at you from the shadowy wainscot, and you feel you are being observed by inscrutable-looking suits of armour, standing like linesmen around the walls.  As I chewed my way manfully through several courses, the silence was punctuated only by the occasional pleasantry, and invitations to take more wine.  I wondered why Thwacks wasn’t hovering at the table, for it is a butler’s duty to pour the drinks.  I assumed he was outside, keeping a sharp ear peeled for the cries of the impotent madman downstairs in the dungeons.

So it transpired.  We had just finished our sherry trifle and were waiting in rigid silence for the coffee to be brought in when there was a discreet knock at the doors and he appeared, sombre as an eminence grise, and walked with sedate steps to Lady Shackles’ end of the table.  He coughed into his cupped hand and waited.

“Well?” she snapped, her face suddenly turned to stone.

Thwacks drew himself solemnly to his full height.  “I regret to inform you, ma’am, that his lordship seems to be becoming . . . er . . . how can I delicately put it at the dinner table?  Agitated again.”

Her eyes flickered, and she slapped her hand onto the tabletop so hard that all the silverware leapt several inches into the air and all the suits of armour hummed like ceremonial gongs.  “No more!  Understood?  No more!  Close all the intervening doors and let him get on with it!  Understood?”

Thwacks’ face was unreadable.  “Very good, ma’am,” he said at length.  “It’s your decision.”

“And keep your impertinent observations to yourself!” she blazed, looking away from him.

Thwacks swelled with forbearance, bowed admonished, and stalked out of the room without a further word.  As soon as the door had closed behind him, Lady Shackles leapt to her feet and flung he napkin onto the dining table.

“We’ll take the coffee in my drawing room!” she barked at no one in particular, and then she also swept from the room, snapping her fingers in my direction for me to follow her.  And so I did, like a poodle.

She had cooled somewhat when we reached her drawing room, after a forced march through labyrinthine passages of many widths, up and down steps, round corners and bends, through arches and doorways.  This suggested to me that the building was much older than I had previously thought, probably mediaeval.  It was certainly cold.  The perpetual draught cut like a razor.  Our footsteps rang on bare stone more often than not, some of the walls were undressed stone, and where they were panelled, the woodwork looked dark and ancient, relieved only by narrow lancet windows, arrow slits, several threadbare tapestries, more armour, and many more generations of outraged ancestors glared at me through the gathering gloom, for the evening had advanced.

So the drawing room, when we finally arrived, pleasantly surprised me: a light, warm, airy room where the panelling sparkled and smelled of beeswax, the sweet-sharp smell of fresh fuchsias spiked the air.  There was a comfortable chintz suite and other elegant pieces of furniture.  The pictures surprised me even more.  Gone were the apoplectic ancestors; instead, the walls were hung with attractive landscapes in watercolour and oils, interspersed with some more modern and abstract pieces; and a large abstract sculpture shaped like a fully erect penis, which surprised me less.

“You furnished this room yourself, didn’t you?” I asked to melt the already softening silence, for I was sure no one else had done it.

“Yes.  Look.  Sorry about the outburst,” she said in a surprisingly small voice, her brow furrowed.  “I didn’t want unpleasantness on your first day here, but I assume you know all about Flavius.”

“Your husband, Lady Shackles?”

“Husband in name.  He’s mad, Mr Flaythm.  Barking mad.  And worse — incapable of producing any sort of erection.”

“So I’d already gathered.”

“Totally incapable of pleasuring a woman, let alone a hot-blooded sexually-demanding one.”  She flung herself down on the sofa pulled me down beside her, and threw her arms possessively round my neck.  “And I’m very highly sexed, you see.  I have needs.  Burning, desperate needs, that can only be quenched by a well-equipped, vigorous, and attentive man from the right sort of social background.  That’s why I get so agitated, you see.”

“Yes, well, I’d already—”

“And I couldn’t help observing, Mr Flaythm, when we first met, the more than satisfactory bulge in your trousers.”

“Well.  As I was saying, I’d already—”

“Let us be frank with each other, as only true friends can.  When I spoke before of friendship, of a meeting of minds, I confess that I was dissembling in part.  I was also thinking of something . . . more physical . . . more urgent, more . . . necessary.”

“My dear Lady Shackles.  That too I’d already—”

Her embrace had tightened; her breathing had become ragged.  She thrust her magnificent bust into my face and started stroking the back of my head with fluttering hands.  “For God’s sake call me Griselda when we’re alone!”

“Of course . . . Griselda.  I’d be—”

Suddenly, her lips were working vigorously on mine; her tongue was in my throat.  She hoisted her dress and straddled me, her powerful horsewoman’s legs tightly gripping my thighs as her crotch started rubbing vigorously into my groin.  The desperate power of her kiss felt as though it was wrenching my tongue out by its roots.  I struggle for air but this only excited her more, her legs tightened, she jerked more feverishly, and her strong arms crushed the breath from me.

“My God, you’re well endowed, Owen!” she gasped.  “A true Flaythm!  How you stimulate me!”

Her crotch now flexed with accelerating vigour for several minutes before she finally groaned, slowed, flopped on top of me, exhausted.  Her grip relaxed and she lay on me panting.

At that moment, a knock at the door interrupted us.  She gasped and leapt up from me like a startled hare, and fled across the room, desperately smoothing her dress.

“Enter!”

This time it was the coffee.

“Leave it!  I’ll pour,” she said to the serving man, more softly than before.  She even managed to sketch a smile as he silently bowed and left backwards, but not before I’d heard a distant maniacal scream echoing through the winding corridors beyond.

“Bring me a wench and I’ll shag her raw.  I’ll stretch her fucking cunt to kingdom come and thrash her arse off with a—”

The closing door mercifully cut off the rest of the sentence.  But it also left a question dangling.

“I thought you said your husband was impotent?” I asked as neutrally as possible.

“So he is.”

“Er . . . he doesn’t sound particularly impotent to me.”

“I told you.  He’s stark staring mad.”

That could account for it, I supposed, but it posed another question that had nagged me since my first visit, and more so because of Thwacks’ evasive comments.

“So what precisely does he do with the girls you send down there?”

“Let’s not talk about him,” she panted, flinging herself back on top of me, her hands exploring my body while her lips worked feverishly all over my mouth, my face, my throat.  “Our time together is too precious to waste on him.  Let’s talk about us.”

“Yes, but—”

“Anyway, I’ll be rid of him within the year,” she added, as though it were a trifle.  “So there’s nothing to talk about really, is there?”

“Rid of him?”

“Yes.  Rid of him!  I’d do it today if I could — now I’ve met you.  But I mustn’t be precipitate.  Appearances are everything.  It must look natural . . . and plausible.  But an opportunity will present itself.  Then, when I’ve disposed of him, I shall be fully available.  Frantic to be pleasured . . . and pleasured . . . and pleasured . . . and pleasured.”

She was positively gnawing my face now, like a ravenous dog trying to tease the last fragment of meat from a stubborn bone.  My manhood, which had been aroused to the point of ejaculation by her twitching crotch, was now deflating rapidly as I digested her alarming ambitions for her poor mad husband.

“But Griselda—”

“Yes, Owen darling,” she lisped as she broke off trying to insert her tongue all the way into my left ear.

“When you talk about disposing of your husband, what exactly—”

“Oh, don’t go on about him, darling,” she pouted, and then tried the other ear.  “So far as we’re concerned, he’s ancient history, isn’t he?”

“Exactly my point.  How precisely—”

“Then, once we’re rid of him, I’ll pull out your gleaming manhood.  I’ll suck it, I’ll eat it, I’ll worship it, I’ll take every glorious inch of it into my every empty, aching hole.  I’ll toss myself up and down on it for hours and hours and hours like a mad woman until the sheets catch fire, won’t I?”

“Fine, but—”

“We’ll get one of those books, and learn how to do it in all sorts of unusual and interesting ways.  We’ll find new ways that no one’s ever tried before.”

“Wonderful, but—”

“Like doing it for hours and hours and hours and hours in a bath full of really thick, sticky custard”

“Yes but—”

“Or warm treacle.”

“What?”

“Treacle, darling.”  She popped a chaste kiss onto the very tip of my nose.  “At least you were listening.”  She dismounted me, glanced at her watch, and, with a look of regret.  “My, my, look at the time.”  She crossed the room and touched the bell pull.  “You’ll have to go for now, for appearance’s sake, or else the low-lifes will start gossiping about us.”

“Go?”

“But of course.”

“So we’re not popping upstairs to . . . er . . . ?”

She giggled like a horse whinnying.  “Not yet, silly!  Not until Flavius is out of the way.  Why do you think I’m so eager to get rid of him?”

I was relieved to a point.  I had passed my peak, largely because of her alarming intentions concerning her husband, and it wouldn’t have done to disappoint her first time.  But I was also worried about what I was getting into.  “Look, Griselda.  About Flavius.  I’m not —”

“Oh, please don’t go on about him, darling.”  She faced me squarely, and her expression was softer now, and more fully mature.  “Look.  We can’t get down to the serious shagging until I’ve dealt with him, if only because if it became known, it would make him far more difficult to dispose of — people might say I had personal motives, mightn’t they?  You must see that.”

“But if we we’re discreet—”

“We couldn’t be — not here, not in Nether Slype where everyone knows everyone else’s comings and goings — especially yours and mine,” she said soberly.  “And a scandal circulating among the peasants would be unspeakably demeaning.  Therefore, much as I lust over you, Owen my darling, we must be content to be friends until I’m permanently rid of Flavius.  Then we can immediately progress to something more athletic and mutually satisfying.  Agreed?”

I admired her control.  In fact, Griselda Shackles’ stature had grown in my estimation, in many ways.  Even her ruthlessness was to be admired.  Nevertheless, but her plans for her husband were clearly serious and they terrified me

“Look, about this disposal business, I—”

The opening door interrupted me.  Thwacks sombrely entered the room, coughed and bowed.

“You took your time!” observed Griselda harshly.

“My apologies, ma’am.  I—”

“Silence!  Mr Flaythm will be leaving in a moment.  Wait outside and then show him out!”

Thwacks bowed.  “Ma’am”.  He withdrew backwards to wait outside.

Griselda’s eyes followed him and she made no effort to hide her dislike of the man.  The door closed; she plucked my arm to draw me close, and her voice was low.  “One word of advice, Owen.  Don’t ever trust that one.”

“Thwacks?”

“Yes.  He’s the main reason I must be prudent and so very careful when I dispose of Flavius.”

“Yes.  About that.  I—”

“Not now!  Listen!  I won’t pester you.  I’ll leave you alone . . . until the deed is done.  So as not to arouse any suspicions.  Understood?”

Of course, but—”

“Hush!  He’s probably listening at the door.”

I dropped my voice to a murmur.  “If he’s such a threat, why do you employ him?”

“Reasons.  But not for long.  Once I’m rid of Flavius I’ll dispose of Thwacks too . . . with very great pleasure.”

I bitterly regretted my words rash words.  “Look, Griselda.  About this disposal business—”

“No time!  No time!  He’ll get suspicious.  Go now!”

*****

I returned to my cottage and spent a sleepless night, despite the sweet, fresh country air wafting in through the open window, and the tawny owls calling each other in the nearby trees.  Keeping Griselda Shackles sexually satisfied would be no hardship, not with that magnificent body, though I was a little daunted by her blithe assumption that we could do it for hours and hours and hours and hours on end, as she had put it.  But her intentions concerning her husband were something I had not anticipated.  I had never met the man, probably never would — unless I got a move on — and cared nothing for him.  But he was still a fellow human being, if a foul-mouthed and barking mad one.

There was no doubt that she intended to murder him.  I reasoned that she was in a strong position to hush the matter — I assumed that the physician who examined him, and the coroner, would both we tenants of hers — but if she were caught and tried, I would be an accessory.  My ambition had been to live in Nether Slype, not to view the world through prison bars for a number of years.  So what should I do?  Flee the village?  Paradise no sooner gained than lost?

I reasoned that doing so wouldn’t help me much.  If she still went ahead and murdered her husband, and my foreknowledge became know, the outcome would be the same.  Should I turn her in?  For what?  I had no proof of anything.  I might find myself accused in turn of being a failed gigolo with a grudge, or a would-be blackmailer — for I had no doubt that Griselda would fight tooth and claw and use any means to refute my allegation.  Then I would lose paradise and my reputation.

Then another, even more horrible, thought struck me.  Would I be the next, after Flavius and Thwacks, for I had little doubt that she intended to murder her butler too?  Had there been others?   Would I become a minor statistic in a long line of murdered lovers?  Was she mad and Flavius sane?  Were they both mad?  Was I too going mad?

As the weeks passed without any developments, these anxieties over Griselda’s intentions abated somewhat, though never entirely.  She had insisted that we appear to be no more than friends until she had disposed of Flavius.  And so it was.  I often saw her trotting round the village — booted and jacketed, hand imperiously on hip.  As she passed the men’s hands would twitch to their forelocks, and the women would sketch a curtsey.  She ignored them all, but when she saw me her face would light up and she would wave.  On a couple of occasions when I walked up the valley to Long Wallop, along the lane loops between the fields that carpet the valley floor in that direction, a big black old Daimler swept past.  I noticed it because there are so few cars in the three villages, and I saw that Thwacks was driving it, and in the back sat Griselda, waving and smiling at me.

The small number of cars is a peculiarity of the three villages, seeing that they are so remote.  I keep my Jaguar, of course, though I scarcely use it, and I suppose that is the reason.  People rarely travel outside their own village, and then only to one of the other two.  There are exceptions, of course: the doctor, the vet, and other professionals.  The local farmers have their Land Rovers.  You see more vans, tractors and lorries than private cars.  For the need to be always dashing here and dashing there is alien to the way of life in Nether Slype, just as it was to our ancestors, who lived with their family, friends, work, and wants within close proximity.

This is not to say that the three villages are without transport amenities.  There are several local taxis, as well as a minibus that circulates the three villages on market day.  Given the lifestyle, using these on occasion works out much cheaper than running your own car.  Not that money is the issue; the villages are prosperous and the standard of living is high.  People work in and around the villages, on the farms and in the woods which they coppice for timber as they have for centuries.  A number of large workshops make handcrafted, top-end hardwood furniture, much of which goes overseas, and others turn out fence panels and the like.  They send top-quality free-range eggs, beef, lamb, game, and poultry to butchers and restaurants countrywide.

No one goes without, no one is neglected, and no one is poor.  The three villages are exemplars of the social, extended-family mode of life that modern society — for all its welfare state, social services, and rights culture — has lost.

*****

Time passed without any developments, and I found it increasingly hard to believe that Griselda Shackles was plotting to murder her husband and her butler too.  There again, it was difficult to believe that she kept her husband chained in a dungeon, and I knew that to be a fact.  However, I suppressed my logical faculty in that respect, hoping, as people do in such situations, that I was somehow mistaken, and all would turn out for the best.

On one occasion, when it was raining, she offered me a lift, but if I’d hoped or feared that she would assault me as she had on the sofa in her drawing room, I would have been wrong.  I suppose the presence of Thwacks in the front seat had a damping effect, but Griselda made no attempt even to extend a discreet finger and stroke my hand with it, and she could have done that easily enough.

Instead, she asked me how I was getting on, if I was making friends, and all the usual things you ask a newcomer.  Warm, cool, interested, friendly.  No more.  There were no sexual innuendos and no allusions to Flavius, no winks, no secret moues, and, more importantly, there was no atmosphere of repression, or unvoiced, shared secrets.  It was as though all her snogging, gnawing, groping and crotch rubbing had been my imagination.

She was either a consummate actress or her interest in me was cooling.  I started to wonder if it had all been a game, but never seriously.  Yet, in that hidden place in my consciousness where ultimate truth dwells, I knew that it hadn’t.  She had said it would be like this, that we would appear to be only friends for a while, and so it was.  I knew deep down that what she said she would do, she did.

And that included Flavius.

1. Quaint village customs

My ‘cottage’ was a glorious rambling seventeenth-century timbered house, standing behind tall yew hedges, far back from the lane at the end of a snaking drive at the village’s edge.  The ridiculously modest rent included a plump little maid, Ginny, who came daily, and a gardener who came twice a week, and it was made clear that a man of my means would be able to hire other domestic help as required, without difficulty.

Once installed, I threw myself into village life with zest, eager to recover years lost in grey suburban modernity.  I joined committees and local societies, and Griselda’s interest ensured that I was welcomed into all of them with alacrity.  I started attending church again, where my exalted position entitled me to use the pew directly behind Griselda’s.  She, of course, occupied the front pew in splendid isolation, her husband being too mad to attend.  I did not attend from any deep religious zeal, but because it was part of my deep rediscovered culture.  I sang hymns I had forgotten since childhood, and the feeling was good.  For some indefinable reason I felt a better person for it, and I assumed that those who sang alongside me were good people too.

They are, as the run of humanity goes, but appearance is deceptive.  In some respects, the world is the same everywhere, no matter how different it might look and feel in a particular place.  During my first few weeks in Nether Slype, I thought I had rediscovered lost innocence, because despite the strange goings on at Nether Towers, the surface seemed so innocent.  However, with time you come to know a place better, as an angler knows his stretch of river.  He knows what lies beneath the placid, smiling face of the water — where the deeps are, where the hungry pike lurk, the subtle currents you can never see but feel tugging at your feet, and precisely where to cast your lure to catch the juiciest fish.

I’ve learned that Nether Slype is like that, benign, idyllic, serene — and deadly.  Deadly, that is, unless you learn to enjoy its darker undercurrents and secret pleasures.  But if you do, then the three villages soar beyond the confines of the humdrum world, and you enter paradise.

I should have twigged some of the dark undercurrent earlier, but I hadn’t.  I had been preoccupied and besides, I had no reason to expect that the three villages were as unusual as I now know them to be.  But it wasn’t long before strange customs started to manifest themselves.

Perhaps there is inbreeding after all.  It is certainly true to say that nearly all the women in the three villages are busty, though not all so much as Griselda.  They also have finely developed and prominent bottoms.  I don’t know what the reason for this is, perhaps the vigorous outdoor life that most adopt, the country diet, or perhaps it’s simply in the genes, but whatever the reason; you’ll hardly ever see a flat-chested or scraggy-arsed woman there.

I noticed this during my first few days — how could any red-blooded man not notice it?  It being late summer, and warm, there were wobbling buttocks and bouncing tits everywhere, and the nipples that poked through the thin summer blouses and bras were fat and perky.  It is difficult for a single man not to gaze at such things, and they drew my gaze as a magnet draws iron filings.

I was leaving the post office one morning, a few weeks after my arrival and stepped aside for a woman whose breasts were truly magnificent, even by Nether Slype standards.  Her blouse was low-cut, her cleavage deep and freckled, and the nipples poking through were the size of my thumbs.  I ogled her, discreetly, I thought.

I felt a tap on my arm and turned to see Ted Foxter, the gamekeeper at Nether Towers.  Griselda had introduced me to him on my arrival and I had already joined him for a few pints at The Seven Stripes.

“You don’t want to go ogling that, Mr Flaythm,” he said with a sage shake of the head.

“Was I?” I said, disingenuously.  I thought I had been discreet and besides, in the outside world, blatant ogling was nothing unusual.

Nevertheless, Ted regarded me coolly.  “You were, Mr Flaythm, and you know it.  No question.  She’s a married woman — see.  Look too interested and you’ll upset the husband.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.  “I meant nothing — and I didn’t notice she was wearing a ring.”

“Feel your way carefully, Mr Flaythm,” he said in a friendly, philosophical way, and I didn’t mind for I knew his words were kindly meant to a newcomer who didn’t know the ropes yet.  “There are two classes of women in Nether Slype — excepting her ladyship, of course — those that are married or spoken for, and those that aren’t.  You stay well away from the first class, and you can pretty well do what you like with the second — and God knows there’s plenty to choose from.  You’ll come to know who’s who in time.  In the meanwhile, you’d be wise to check your ground before you make a move.”

“And what are the rules if I find an available woman I fancy?”

He threw back his head and laughed.  “Get stuck in, man.”

“Provided she’s agreeable, of course.”

“If she isn’t, then you show her the error of her ways, Mr Flaythm — until she is.”

I didn’t understand him, though I pretended to, replying to his sly wink with one of my own.  I had lived long in the outside world, the world of women’s rights that eschews any sort of sexism or assumption of predatory male domination — or, at least, it pretends to.  I had yet to learn that these notions were alien to the three villages, so for the next few days I consciously avoided looking hungrily at any woman.  It was difficult with ripe temptation is everywhere, and although the women seemed very friendly, I became aware that there might be other local rules of conduct, so I remained wary.

The caution also made me aware of why Griselda was so insistent that Flavius should be ‘disposed of’ before we started shagging.  Clearly, small irregularities were noticed, and if I started frequenting Nether Towers too often, or was too frequently seen in her company, there would be talk as she had said there would be.   Everyone knew everyone else’s comings and goings in a place like this and it was clear to me that certain proprieties had to be seen to be observed — even if a man had to die for it.  I pushed the thought from my mind.  I didn’t want to think about Flavius, or any of the repercussions that might flow from his murder.

The relationship between the sexes started to become apparent a few days later.  There are many shaded footpaths in Nether Slype, and one runs along the bottom of my long rear garden, a path so green and overhung that you would never guess that it lay within yards of a village street unless you knew it.  It provides a short cut to the village centre and I already used it frequently, as it was a quicker route in the fine weather.

I was walking home from the library when I heard an abrupt bark of command beyond a hedge.

“Liz!  Out here!  This instant!”

I smiled, reflecting that few men in the outside world would dare shout at their wives in such a peremptory fashion. I was intrigued to see the outcome, for I naturally assumed that the wife would march out and give her husband a mouthful in return.   I noticed that there was a small chink in the hedge, and my curiosity prompted me to peek through it.  I looked carefully both ways, to make sure that I was not observed, and then applied my face to the chink.

There I saw a long orchard garden, very much like my own.  A thickset middle-aged man was standing there, not far from me, looking furious, his arms tightly folded.  I saw his wife, a blonde, broad hipped woman, come running out of the house towards us looking nervous.  She was wearing a tee shirt and shorts, she had big thighs, and although I couldn’t see it, I knew that her generous bottom would be wobbling delightfully.  She drew up to her husband and he pointed furiously at the grass near his feet.

“You did that, didn’t you!”

To my surprise, instead of folding her arms in turn and saying “so what!” she hung her head and flushed like a schoolchild pulled out before the class.  “Yes husband.  I’m truly sorry, husband,” she said breathlessly.  “Please don’t punish me.”

“What precisely have you done?”

“I’m sorry husband.  I didn’t see them.  Please.”

“What have you done?”

She swallowed and stared intently at her feet.  “I mowed over the cowslips, husband,” she whispered so softly that I could scarcely hear her.  “I know I’ve disobeyed.  Please don’t be severe with me.”  There was a long silence while she remained looking at her feet, and her arms hanging limply at her side.

“So you knew what you’d done,” the husband said at last.

“Yes, husband,” she whispered so softly that I only just caught her words.  “I know I should have confessed, but I was frightened.”

The husband’s face was stone.  He unfolded his arms and started to unbuckle his heavy leather trouser belt.  “Face the tree!” he snapped.

The wife’s shoulders sagged.  Without another word, she turned and stood as directed.  Her back was towards me now and I noticed that she was indeed a plump-bottomed lass.  Meanwhile the heavy belt was off and the husband wrapped it twice round his hand leaving about two feet of it hanging free.

“There’ll be six for mowing down the cowslips and another six for not telling me.”

“I understand, husband.”

“Knickers down!”

The big bottom heaved and strained as she pulled down her tight shorts and then her knickers.  Both fell to her ankles, and I saw her two enormous globes, white above her sunburnt thighs.  My prick stiffened.

“Lean against the tree!”

She shuffled forward a few steps and leaned forward, bracing herself against the trunk.  The muscles in buttocks twitched in anticipation of what was to come.

“Count!”

The husband brought his arm back and the flying belt delivered a resounding blow across his wife’s bare buttocks, and they quivered delightfully at the impact.

“One, husband.”

The arm came back again, followed by a loud cracking retort and the plump bottom wobbled again.

“Two, husband.”

He whipped her with his belt as I’ve seen people whipping a dog with its lead, and I’ve never liked seeing the dumb creature so ill-used.  Yet I felt no such qualm at watching this man ruthlessly spank his wife’s bare bottom.  It was gloriously erotic, and I found that I had unconsciously unzipped my flies and started wanking myself as I watched.  The thrashing continued, and it was only after eight sound strokes that the wife’s count started to labour.  Her thighs were working now and her previously white cheeks displayed a broadening red stripe across them.  But her husband continued remorselessly.

“Ah!  Eight, husband.”

Smack!

“Aaah!  Nine, husband.”

I saw her head go back, and she was gasping and jerking at every stroke.

Smack!

“Aaaaah!  Ten, husband.  I’m so sorry husband.”

He continued relentlessly.  Her thighs were twitching ceaselessly now and she was heaving her big bottom up and down with a steady mechanical rhythm as people do when they’re in pain.  I wanked faster.

Smack!

“Aaaaah!  Ooooh!   Eleven, husband.  Please be merciful.”

I knew she was crying, I knew by the sob in her voice.  Her thighs wriggled and her plump darkening bottom cheeks rotated ever faster.  She was in severe pain now.  My wanking accelerated.

Smack!

“Aaaaaaah!  Aaaaaaah!   Twelve, husband.  No more, I beg you.”

Her whole body jerked, I could hear her crying, but the husband seemed unconcerned.  He slid his belt back through his trouser loops and buckled it.

“I’m finished now,” he said calmly.

The wife collapsed weeping at the foot of the tree, her hands scrabbling and clawing at her soundly-thrashed and deeply reddened buttocks.  I shot my load into the hedge.

But the husband merely turned away and continued surveying his garden.

The experience had aroused and excited me, but it also perplexed me.  I was new to Nether Slype so I initially assumed the husband’s behaviour to be an exception rather than a hallowed rule.  My main interest was in my own response to it.   I had never hit a woman.  I had been tempted to but had always considered it unmanly to use violence against a woman, besides which, it was taboo in the circles I moved in, and any man who beat a woman would have been despised for it.  Yet my prick had stiffened and I had orgasmed.  For me, seeing the wife standing obediently with her knickers round her ankles while her husband soundly whipped her bare bottom had been an erotic sexual experience.  I had indulged in a little mild spanking in bed with consenting women, but that was just slap and tickle, a bit of fun, usually after we’d got a good few drinks on board, but nothing heavy, severe, or serious.

Then I remembered Griselda’s words about discipline and the firm hand, her ever-twitching  riding crop, and her enthusiasm for the patent flogger.  I also recalled Ted Foxter’s words about showing a reluctant woman the error of her ways until she was agreeable.  Enormous possibilities exploded in my mind.  Bloody Hell, I thought.  Is the whole bloody village at it?

I swallowed as I wondered what role Griselda might have in mind for me, before and after we shagged for hours and hours and hours and hours in the thick custard.  Aroused as I was by the performance in the garden, I reflected that I wouldn’t mind giving her magnificent bottom a good spanking.  On the other hand, I was damned if the boot was going to be on the other foot.  But would I have any choice, and what might happen to me if I refused?  Was that where Flavius had stepped out of line?  Might I quickly follow him if I failed to obey?

I shook the thought from my head and said, Ridiculous!  I was aware that my own frustrations were feeding my imagination.  I persuaded myself that a couple of months ago, I would not have responded as I had to the thrashing in the garden.  I was frustrated, no doubt of that, which was probably why I had started to ogle women more blatantly than I ought.

I had never been short of sexual partners, though in recent years none had meant much to me beyond the physical relief.  But since coming to Nether Slype, I hadn’t got my end in once.  I had been told that I would experience no difficulty in this respect.  I had been told that unattached women were openly available, but I’d seen no evidence of it, and I didn’t know how one went about propositioning them in Nether Slype.    Did you simple brush up to one and say, “Hello darling, fancy a shag?” and put her straight over your knee if she said, “Sod off!”  Somehow, I didn’t think so.  And, to be blunt, so crude an approach has never appealed to me.  I am a bit of a romantic at heart, and even a blatant one-night stand has to be more romantic than wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am.

As for the spanking, I soon realised that this was indeed the way things were done in Nether Slype.   Only a couple of days later I was in the village shop buying my groceries.

“I can’t see any wholemeal bread,” I said to Meg, the girl who usually serves behind the counter.

I expected her just to say, “it’s here”, “it’s there”, or “we’ve run out”.  But instead, her face fell.  “Of course, Mr Flaythm,” she said in a hushed voice.  “You always buy wholemeal, don’t you!”

“I much prefer it to white,” I said casually.

The girl looked chastened, though I thought I could detect an evil gleam in her eye.  “Then I’ll fetch Mrs Bryce right away, sir.”

“No!  Really!  It doesn’t matter,” I remonstrated.

“I’m afraid I’ve been told I must, sir,” said Meg, though her lips quivered impishly as she made for the back of the shop.

I hovered, feeling embarrassed at the fuss.  I heard Meg’s voice through the open doorway, “Another regular for wholemeal, Mr Bryce” and there was a note of deep, malicious relish as she added, “and Mr Flaythm of all people.  Most put out, he is.”

“No, no!” I called, though no one heard me.

“Right!  That’ll be double,” said a stern male voice beyond the door that I assumed to be Mr Bryce’s.  “Out you go, woman!”

From out the back came Mrs Bryce, a pleasant looking woman with a square face framed by dark-brown curly hair.  She walked up to me looking very contrite and stood before me like a supplicant, wringing her hands, and her eyes never left the floor.

“I’m very sorry about the wholemeal, Mr Flaythm,” she said quickly and breathlessly, as if by rote.  “I forgot it was Friday, Sir, and I didn’t order enough.  Please forgive me.”

“Forgive?”  I laughed.  “Don’t be silly.  It doesn’t matter.  I’ll come back for some tomorrow.”

“I’m dreadfully sorry for the inconvenience I’ve put you to, Sir.”

“Forget it, Mrs Bryce.”

“Thank you for being so forgiving, Sir,” she said with a small curtsey, but her eyes remained firmly fixed to the floor.  She turned and walked slowly away towards the back of the shop.  Her hands disappeared round her front and she appeared to be adjusting her clothing; I heard the unmistakable sound of a fly zip.  Her hands reappeared and she hooked her thumbs inside her loosened waistband.  As she walked through the door to the back of the shop, she started to push it down, and I saw her bottom crack and ample buttocks start to emerge.

“Leave the door open!” came the man’s stern voice again.  “I want Mr Flaythm to hear this.   Over the chair back with you!  And get those knickers right down.  Grip the chair!”

Mr Bryce didn’t tell his wife to count the strokes as the man in the garden had, but the sound of leather thrashing a woman’s soft bottom was the same.  I had clearly been mistaken to assume that the corporal disciplining of wives was an occasional and closet aberration in Nether Slype.  I now understood without any shadow of doubt what Griselda and Ted had meant when they spoke of discipline and making women see the error of their ways.

Meg sidled up to me, nodded and winked.  “She’s getting double because it’s you, Mr Flaythm.  Twelve.  I thought you’d like to know.”

“How many others have there been?” I asked, wondering just how many strokes in total Mrs Bryce would receive for forgetting to order extra bread, and what the punishment would be for a genuinely serious offence.

“You’re the seventh to voice disappointment,” said Meg.  “She got six for each of the others.”  She smirked.  “You don’t mind when it’s the boss’s wife, do you, Sir!  And she’s a real cow to me sometimes.”

Out back, Mrs Bryce was grunting like a bull at each stroke.  It was hardly surprising, seeing that she had by now received around forty during the course of the day and her bottom already must be sore, bruised, and swollen from her earlier ordeals.  Finally, the punishment ended, the door closed, and there was silence from the back.  Despite my finer values, I felt my cock stiffening again and I drew my jacket round me to hide the embarrassing bulge from Meg.

“Can I do anything else for you, Mr Flaythm?” she asked slyly.  She was clearly enjoying Mrs Bryce’s ongoing punishment and that might have accounted for the relish in of voice.  But perhaps she had also glanced down and noticed the telltale sign of my enjoyment too.  I wondered whether she was inviting me to enjoy some sexual hanky-panky with her.  I glanced at hr sideways.  She looked the type who enjoyed a good shag.  But she was a good-looking girl and it seemed inconceivable too me that she wasn’t already being regularly seen to.

I remembered Ted Foxter’s warning about staying clear of women who were spoken for, and I thought it highly likely that Meg was.  My problem was that I simply couldn’t be sure, one way or the other, and I wouldn’t be until I got to know these people much better.  So I merely smiled and, “That’s fine for now, Meg.  Thanks all the same.”

But my frustrations deepened.  When I left the shop, I was still stiff and all the stiffer because I knew that if I was wrong about Meg, I might just have passed up an invitation to a very acceptable shag.

My prick was stiff most of the time during those early days in the three villages, what with all the bouncing breasts and bottoms everywhere, and now the extra thrill of what promised to be participation in regular spankings, as an observer or auditor at least.   And I confess it did thrill me; it thrilled me very much, especially the spanking in the shop, which had been applied for my benefit.  A woman had bent over a chair and had her bare bottom spanked, especially severely, for my satisfaction.  The one disappointment was that I wished I were applying a strap to a nice plump bottom myself.  A demon had been awakened in me, yet despite the fact that it was going on all around me, there seemed no immediate prospect of administering a good spanking myself.  I think I still assumed at that time, that a woman’s bare bottom was only available for this sort of enjoyable attention from her husband.

For these reasons, I made no move to either discipline or ravish my maid, despite her short skirt, extremely wobbly bottom, and the come-hither looks she gave me.  There was stimulation and frustration everywhere, but no release, or so I thought.  Yet I was soon to learn that I still hadn’t plumbed the full pleasurable depths of Nether Slype.

1. Initiation

A few evenings later, I stopped by The Seven Stripes as I often do, for a pint or two and a chat with my neighbours.  I had been in the village for about two months, and I liked to think that they were starting to accept me genuinely, and not just because Griselda Shackles had told them to.  Nearly everyone I passed in the course of the day stopped and chatted to me.  I was everywhere welcome, and I found them likable and neighbourly people, despite their seemingly habitual use of the strap.

That evening, when I walked into the pub, the four regulars round the bar all nodded.  I asked Dick Shag the landlord I’d met on my first visit, for my usual pint of the local ale, for they have their own small brewery in Nether Slype.

“A pint of Nelly’s Knockers, please Dick.”

Dick’s face fell.  “Dreadfully sorry, Mr Flaythm.  Nelly’s Knockers are off, sir.”

“Oh, well, what have you got?”

“Freda’s Fanny?  Rachels’s Rump?  Easy Edna?”

“Whichever you recommend,” I said

As Dick started to pour my beer, Ted Foxter sidled up to me and winked.

“Don’t let it go at that, Owen.  You’re entitled to satisfaction when the beer’s off.”

“Satisfaction?”

“Aye, it’s the custom,” chorused the other three regulars at the bar.

“You must demand it,” said Ted impishly, with another wink.

“Don’t egg him on,” cautioned Dick the landlord, pushing my beer across to me.  “He’s still very new here.”

“Nah, he’s one of us,” said Ted emphatically.  “He’s a Flaythm.  And he’s already a regular, so he’s entitled to his satisfaction when the beer’s off.”

The chorus of agreement came again and Dick looked at me hesitantly for a few moments, but in the end, he sighed and shrugged to the inevitable.  Reaching down under the bar he leaned towards me and enquired gently, “Would you like satisfaction, Mr Flaythm, Sir?”

I glanced down to see what he had retrieved from under the bar.  There, in is large fist, peeping discreetly over the rear edge of the counter was the curved handle of a slander bamboo cane.  I blinked and almost demurred, but a chorus of encouragement from the others immediately overwhelmed me.

“Go on, Owen!”

“Show us what you’re made of, Owen!”

“Show us how the Flaythms lay it on, Owen?”

I hesitated, as you so often do when they thing you have dreamed of is offered too readily, or for too low a price.  You ask yourself where the catch is, for you are sure there must be one, and there was.  For I had never done this before, and had no idea of how to go about it.

Much as the idea appealed, I would have preferred to try my hand first in private, but I realised that I was facing a test I couldn’t decline.  Come through it and they would fully accept me as one of the chaps; fail and I would be a laughing stock.  Yet if I refused, I would lose face.  I imagined that here in Nether Slype, backing off from applying corporal discipline might be regarded as tantamount to confessing I was homosexual — and I didn’t want that sort of reputation at any price.   I knew I would have to go through with it, and pray that I made a reasonable job of it.

So I stuck out my chin, I reached across the bar, and Dick pushed the cane into my hand.  It was long, thin, and very whippy, clearly fashioned for the purpose.  I made a few cuts and the cane whistled pleasantly, but what was the point of a cane and no bottom?  I turned enquiringly to Dick.

“Whose?  Which?  Er . . . .”

Dick put his head round the door behind the bar.  “Girls!  Out you come!  Mr Flaythm requires satisfaction.  Move yourselves!”

Immediately I heard the rattle of footsteps on the wooden floor behind and out trooped the three bar and kitchen maids.  They came round the bar, lined up in front of me looking coy.  One of them giggled, nervously, as I later realised.  But at the time, I suspected that they thought me incapable of doing what was required, so I made a few more fearsome looking cuts through thin air

“What do you say to the customer?” said Dick sternly.

“Sorry about Nelly’s Knockers, Mr Flaythm. Would you like satisfaction of our bare and willing bottoms, Sir?” chorused the three maids, parrot fashion.  They had obviously done this many times.  The youngest, Nell, giggled again.

I licked my lips, sure that I was about to make an idiot of myself.  I dimly remembered hearing or reading somewhere that the cane is the aristocrat of corporal-punishment instruments, devastatingly effectively when expertly wielded, but much less so in the hands of an amateur.  I would be mercilessly exposed as a tyro.  “Well, I—”

“Don’t mice words with wenches, lad!” piped up Old Horace, the retired shoe mender, shambling across to me.  “It’s the cane and the strap that talks to a woman.”  He turned to Nell, the youngest barmaid, who had nervously giggled.  “You mind your manners, girl, or I’ll tell your father to give you two dozen of the riding crop next time I see him!”

The girl whitened and hung her head contritely.  “Yes grandfather.  Sorry, Mr Flaythm.”

“That’s better,” said Old Horace.  “Though too little too late, as you’re about to find out, girl.”  He turned to me, all solicitude, and patted me gently on the back.  “Don’t be nervous, lad.  I’ve been whipping women for over fifty years, and I know what I’m about.  I’ll see you through it.”

I must have coloured at being so transparently a novice.

“Right now,” continued Horace, patting my back again, reassuringly.  “The rule here is that every customer who misses a pint of his favourite gives each girl one stroke.  That’s one for each pint.  Now, you’re a three pint man—”

“Two,” insisted Ted from behind the bar.

“Three!” chorused of regulars.

“Come on lads,” pleaded Ted.  “I’ve a dozen or more regulars due later.  I want these girls to be able to stand up and wash glasses come closing time.”

“Then you should have laid on the fucking beer!” snarled Ted.

“Aye,” chorused the others in jolly unison, thumping their beer mugs on the bar top.  “Three!  Three!  Three!  Three!  Three!  Three!  Three—

“Oh very well,” sighed Ted, flinging down his cloth and folding his arms like a long-suffering fishwife.  “Three it is.”

“What do I do now?” I whispered in Horace’s ear.

“What do you think?  Get Nell over a table, yank her knickers down, and give her plump rosy cheeks three of the best.”

“Right.”  I tentatively extended my hand to take Nell gently by the arm, but Horace knocked it aside.

“Nay, lad!  You do it like this.”  With one fluid motion, Horace stepped in front of me, took Nell by the scruff of the neck, summarily marched her across to the nearest table, and pushed her over it.  “Now the knickers, lad.”

“Right.”  I put the cane under one arm and lifted Nell’s full skirt to reveal a bulging pair of navy blue knickers.  I noticed the visible part of her buttocks and the tops of her thighs were already criss-crossed with half-a-dozen or more red welts.  I tentatively took hold of her knicker elastic and started to ease the knickers down.

“Sorry, lad,” said Horace at my ear, gently removing my hand.  “Let me show you once and for all.  When you pull down a woman’s knickers, whether you’re going to feel her up, shag her, or thrash her, you don’t mess around — you do it this way.”  He seized the elastic and whipped it down so fast that Nell’s knickers fairly flew down her bare legs to her ankles, and her bottom, free of its restraint, bulged before me.  I felt my prick start to swell mightily.

“Right, Horace,” I said, taking up the cane again and flexing it self-consciously.  I was aware that five pairs of critical eyes were on me, not counting the other two maids’.  This was make or break for me.

I stepped back, and gave Nell’s bare buttocks a few ranging taps, silently counting the red welts to fifteen and wondering how many more they would receive before closing time.

“Excuse me, lad,” said Horace, interrupting again.  “I take it you haven’t done this before.”

I licked my lips.  “Er — not with a light cane,” I lied sheepishly.

“Then let me show you.  It’s not like a strap, which only requires leverage and power.  With the cane it’s speed and accuracy that counts.  For a start, you’re too tense.  So relax!  Second, you step right back and use the full length of the cane and your arm.  Remember, the tip is travelling fastest under the greatest leverage.  If you apply a cane half way down its length, or bent-armed, you’ll only tap her, no matter how much energy you put into it, and what’s the point of that?  Third.  You don’t aim at her bottom, but at a point six or so inches in front of her pussy.  In other words, you thrash right through the bottom with the extremity of the cane and the arm.  Understood?”

“Yes, Horace,” I said hoarsely.  “Thank you, Horace.”

Horace thrust his hands in his pockets and looked wise.  “Of course, using the full length holds true whether you’re using a strap, belt, riding crop, tawse, whip, or whatever: use the extremity and you can’t go far wrong.  It’s like hammering nails.  When you’re hammering, you use the full length of the hammer shaft.  The same goes for thrashing a woman.  Now, relax, and cut right through, as fast as you can.  Start with the cane held right back behind your neck, and bring it right round in an arc, at an angle of about forty-five degrees, through to that point in front of her pussy.  That way, she’ll know what you’re about.”

“Right, Horace.”

“Here, lad, let me show you.”

Horace retrieved one of his hands from his pockets and took the cane from my hand.  He stepped right back from Nell, tapping her bulging bottom several times with the extremity, his arm fully extended.  Her legs wriggled in anticipation, and I fancied I heard her whimper.

“That’s the range, lad,” continued Horace conversationally.  “Now watch!”  The brought the cane right back behind his neck, froze for a second, then with a brief high whistle, it whipped round.  With a piercing scream, Nell’s bottom leapt off the edge of the table.  There was a murmur of approval from around the bar and I knew that I was in the presence of a master.  “Take note of that, lad?” said Horace with pride.  “Unless she screams and her bottom leaps, you haven’t done your job properly.”

The cane went back behind Horace’s neck again, froze for a second, and then whistled again.  Nell screamed again and her bottom leapt even higher.  I saw that there were two more vicious red welts on it.

“Now, lad,” said Horace with an expert’s gravity, directing my attention, as though it were necessary, to Nell’s writhing bottom.  “Notice my two welts.  Absolutely parallel and about an inch apart.   The art is to lay them on close.  Better still, on top of each other.  Ideally, you want to see one broad stripe developing, not a criss-cross.  Lay on a dozen heavy strokes on top of each other, and you’ll be peeling her off the ceiling before you’re done, and that’s what you’re aiming to do.  Now, I’m going to lay the third one between the other two, extra hard, like so—”

“Please don’t grandfather,” whimpered Nell.

“Quiet, girl!”

The cane whistled, even more shrilly, Nell screamed her heart out, and her bottom leapt so high in the air that she almost dove head-first off the opposite side of the table.  I saw that she was quivering and crying, but that didn’t stop the regulars from giving Horace a round of applause.  He handed me the cane.  “Now, lad, lay three more on top of mine.”

“Oi-oi!” shouted Dick from behind the bar.  “She’s had her three.”

Horace turned on him.  “She’s my granddaughter and I’ll thrash her whenever I like — without your leave.  Now it’s Owen’s turn.”

There was another murmur of approval.  Dick raised his hands in surrender, and then carried on wiping the bar.

I stepped back from Nell.  The girl was sobbing, and that gave me a moment’s pause, but I couldn’t appear callow in front of my audience.  Besides, she had parted her legs slightly and her pink slit was winking at me between a fringe of downy brown hair.  My stiffening prick took over from whatever remained of my conscience: I knew I was going to enjoy hearing her squeal again, and I wanted to watch her wriggling bottom and juicy little slit perform desperate acrobatic feats all over the table.

I brought the cane behind my neck, froze for a second and delivered a stinging swipe right through the red, twitching buttocks, missing Horace’s stripe and catching Nell right across her slit.  She howled, jerked, and her legs writhed like fury.

The crowd round the bar applauded warmly.

“Not bad for starters,” said Horace.  “Across her crack’s as good a place as any.  Teaches her that it’s a man’s property.”

There was a murmur of agreement, then, as I drew the cane behind my neck, I saw a new red wheal across the crease between Nell’s bottom and thighs and right across her slit.  The slit itself was splayed wide open, its lips quivering.  My work! I thought proudly as the last remnants of my conscience deserted me.

The cane whistled more shrilly, Nell screamed and leapt energetically this time.  Her legs wriggled even more and I noted with satisfaction that a second new stripe had appeared just above my first.  The cane came back a third time.  Aiming firmly through the gaping slit I consciously relaxed and then let fly with all my might.

Her scream was piercing.  Her whole body jerked off the table, jack-knifed, and she fell onto the floor, thrashing and clutching her crotch.

“Good shot!” chorused the regulars, and they rushed across to her, pulling her hands away and examining her.

“Three in a row,” shouted one and they turned to give me an extended round of applause.

“Well done, lad,” said Horace, gently patting me on the arm.  “You’ll be on free beer all evening for that.”

The two older girls remained.  Despite Nell’s suffering, they looked remarkably uncontrite.

I chose Ruth, the kitchen maid next.  She was the slimmest and eldest of the three.  She must have been well over thirty and she wore her breasts lower than the other two did.  I’d removed her bra in my imagination several times when I’d drunk at the Stripes, fancying them pendulous, with large dark areolas.  I was pretty certain they’d be dark, for her hair was black, and her eyes and complexion also dark.  In former centuries, they would probably have presumed her a witch, but even Nether Slype isn’t that conservative.  It was a pity, I thought, that I could only thrash her bottom and not her breasts.  For at that time I foolishly assumed that tit whipping was taboo in Nether Slype.

I boldly took Ruth by the scruff of the neck and she came forward without resisting.  I marched her to the table and roughly pushed her across it…  My drinking companions applauded.  Next for her knickers.   I threw up her skirt over her back.  She was wearing black stockings, black suspenders, with black lacy knickers over them.  I almost shot my load straight through my trousers, and all over her.

Eagerly I took the elastic waistband of her black full-cut knickers in my hand and ripped them down.  They fell no further than her knees but I was pleased with the result.  Her bottom was slightly slimmer than Nell’s was, and I noticed that, as well as a welter of vivid red stripes from earlier that night, it was also criss-crossed with small scars, some white, ancient, and faded, others newer and still pink.  She’d certainly been comprehensively whipped in her thirty-something years.  Although her thighs were also slimmer than Nell’s and didn’t quite meet at the top, I couldn’t see her crack because of the forest of thick black hair that sprouted like a huge brush from her crotch and fringed her slit like a heavy beard.

“Fucking Hell, Ruth,” called one of the drinkers.  “When are you going to see a barber?  Nothing can get through that jungle.”

The men laughed.

“Ha.  Ha.  Ha,” quipped Ruth, face down across the table.  “Just because you can’t manage to push your limp prick into a woman’s cunt, Ned Ferris.   It doesn’t mean a man couldn’t.”

“It’s certainly the loosest in Nether Slype,” suggested another, and all the men laughed again.

“Nah!  That was my wee hole you were fucking, Ted Foxter.”

The men roared now.

“Thought I was being shagged by a dead maggot,” Ruth continued.  “Then I looked up and saw Ted Foxter hanging on the other end of it.”

The men fell about laughing.  One even spilled his beer.

“Come on, Owen, lay it on the mouthy bitch!” called Ted, who was less amused than the others were.

Following Horace’s instructions, I aimed for a point six inches in front of Ruth’s luxuriant pussy and laid on my first stroke with a resounding crack.  Nothing happened.

“Come on, Mr Flaythm, sir!” said Ruth, archly coy.  “Start!  I haven’t got all fucking night to lie around here airing my cunt.”

The men roared.  I brought the cane back and, with a shrill whistle, laid another welt just above the first.

“Bloody hell!  Some filthy sod’s trying to tickle my arsehole now.”

By this time, I was laughing myself, so much so that I made a complete mess of the last stroke and merely glanced it off her.

Ruth got up, curtseyed to her audience, and marched triumphantly off towards the kitchen to a great round of applause.

Rosie, the third girl, was by far the most buxom of the three.  She walked up to the table without prompting, dropped her skirt to show all the men she was wearing no knickers at all.  She sat on the edge of the table, leant back, and spread her legs invitingly wide, showing us all her orange pussy and pink open slit.  She flexed her muscles and her cunt winked open and shut for us several times, to a great round of applause.  My prick was so stiff now that I had to turn round quickly, and ease it past the elastic waistband of my underpants.  Meanwhile, Rosie pulled up a chair, knelt on the seat and bent over the table for me, sticking her big plump bottom invitingly in the air.

There were calls of “Lay it on, Owen” and “You couldn’t miss that one if you tried.”

Rosie wriggled her bottom inviting again.  It was pink, with small freckles all over it.  And like the others, it was criss-crossed, with welts, old and new.  It wobbled delightfully, like a strawberry blancmange sprinkled with brown sugar crystals, and in many ways it was as sweet.  I laid on three heavy strokes, but I’d lost my concentration in all the merriment, and although Rosie squealed and her bottom leapt at each of them, I knew that she was performing for the benefit of her audience.

When she’d been caned, she too marched triumphantly back to the kitchen, to a round of good-natured applause.  I received pats on the back for my efforts, and I decided I ought to buy a round of drinks for the entire gathering.  I could easily afford to, though I didn’t make it a habit, considering it rather cheap to try to buy people’s goodwill.  However, tonight I had an excuse.

“Nelly’s Knockers is back on now,” said Dick as he started to pull the first pint.

“I thought you were out of it,” I said.

“No, I forgot to put a fresh barrel on earlier.  It hadn’t quite settled when you came in.”

Now that my desire was cooling, my conscience kicked back in.  The girls had been caned, not for their own negligence but Dick’s.  I didn’t feel bad about Ruth and Rosie, who could handle it and had made an entertainment of it.  But Nell was only about eighteen and it hadn’t been so much fun for her.  I felt suddenly and privately ashamed.

One round followed another and as the evening wore on, I became quite drunk.  My drinking companions slowly left, one after the other and, shortly before closing time, I was sitting alone in a corner, feeling content with the world, and wondering if I could be bothered to get up and take the short walk home.

Something moved at the edge of my consciousness and I looked up to see Ruth the black-haired, dark-eyed kitchen maid glancing at me speculatively.  Our eyes met and she walked across.  She was an attractive woman with a wide, well-shaped mouth, a pert chin and those glorious dark eyes shed dark light on me like pools of liquid night.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, leaning over me so that her long, pendulous breasts swayed mouth-wateringly before my semi-focussed eyes.

“I’ve had too much,” I confessed, wondering whether I had the nerve to reach out and fondle them, and I suppose my voice was slurred.

“Come on,” she said.  “I’m done for the day.  I’ll help you home if you like.”

I almost refused, but then I wondered why I should.  I looked up again, bathed in those glorious dark eyes, and a voice in the back of my reeling brain told me that I might be onto a shag here.  God knows I needed one.

“Yes, I think I might need help,” I confessed.  “But I warn you I’m very drunk.”

She smiled warmly.  “I’m used to it, and I’ve seen worse, besides, the walk home will help sober you.  Come on!”

I hope it sobers me up, I thought.  I won’t be able to shag you unless I do sober up a bit.  And I desperately wanted to get inside a woman’s knickers, and I really fancied running my fingers through Ruth’s glorious pussy before I tried her cunt for size.

She leant down to haul me up, her bodice filled again, and I knew that I desperately wanted to get inside her bra too, and pull out those tantalising breasts.  They brushed against me as she put her arm under mine, and with surprising strength, she pulled me upright.  I staggered, and burped.

“Not going to be sick, are you?”

“God, I hope not.”

“Are you?  Tell me!”

“Don’t think so,” I slurred, staggering again, and the room revolved.  I knew that I probably wouldn’t get home at all without her, and I also knew that I probably wouldn’t be capable of shagging her, even if I did.

“If you feel it welling up, tell me immediately.  I’ll help you.”

“Feel what welling up?  A hard on?” I slurred, sagging against her.

She smiled.  “Not much chance of that tonight.  I meant, if you feel you’re going to be sick.”

“God, I hope not.”

“Just do it!  Tell me!  All right?”

“Yes, miss.”

“And no lip,” she smiled, “or you’ll find your own way home.  Come on!”

She took my weight and helped me to walk unsteadily out of The Seven Stripes.  Outside the air felt cool.  I felt cold sweat on my forehead and scalp, and that was all I remember.  Therefore, I didn’t see the large black Daimler that was parked outside on the green.

1. Ruth

When I woke next morning, warm sunshine was flooding through my bedroom window, my head was still slightly muzzy and I reckoned it would feel more so when I tried to get up.  Apart from my shoes, I was lying fully dressed on my bed, though my collar and trousers were loosened.  I assumed that I had somehow managed to make my way up the stairs and done the necessary.  I suddenly realised that my bladder was bursting.  I flopped out of bed, staggered, and headed for the door, missed it, bounced off the doorframe and somehow found my way along the passage to the bathroom without falling over or wetting myself.  I used the loo and, relieved, I stumbled back the bed, threw myself on it again, and waited for the window to stop orbiting the room.

It was then that I heard movement downstairs.  Immediately sobered, I staggered back to my feet, shambled to the end of the passage, and peered round the corner down the stairs.

Ruth, the dark-haired barmaid, was coming up them.

“Ruth?” I squeaked.

She was carrying a mug of black coffee and she was wearing my dressing gown.  She glanced up, smiled, and accurately read the expression on my face.

“Hope you don’t mind me wearing this, Mr Flaythm, but you needed looking after last night — you were in a terrible state — and I needed to wash my dress.  I don’t want to go back to work smelling stale.  So I put it in your washing machine.  I hope that’s OK.”

“Of course, Ruth.  Help yourself.  And thanks for helping me last night.  Was I really so bad?”

She smiled and put her free hand under my arm to guide me back to the bedroom.  “You were terrible.”

I lowered myself gingerly and sat on the edge of the bed.  “When are you due back at The Seven Stripes?” I asked when everything had finally stopped revolving.

“Couple of hours.”

“What time is it now?”

“Ten.  No hurry.  Come on!  Lie back and drink this.  Then I’ll make you some breakfast.”

“Thanks Ruth.  I owe you.”

As I lay back and propped myself against the headboard, she climbed onto the bed beside me and held both the coffee and me steady while I drank.

I felt her body move against mine, and my prick started stiffening again.

“Last night,” I said.  “We didn’t . . . I didn’t . . . I mean we—”

She put her arm round my shoulder and popped a kiss on my brow.  “Mr Flaythm.  Last night you were in no condition to do anything.  I managed to get you up here and you just sparked out.”

“I just wondered,” I said, taking another mouthful of the hot coffee.

“Why?  What if we had?  Would it have mattered?”

“Yes,” I giggled — it must have been the after-effects of all the booze.  “Because I’d have had no memories to treasure of the experience.”

“No need to be sarcastic!” she said harshly.

“I’m not being.”

“Yes you are.  I’ve seen the way you look at my tits, thinking, bloody hell, look at those horrible saggy old jugs.

“I don’t think that at all,” I protested

She looked unconvinced.  “Oh really?  What then?”

“It’s a bit embarrassing,” I said, hiding my face in my coffee mug and taking another mouthful, my head clearing rapidly.

“Why?  We’re on your bed together; I’m wearing your dressing gown — and not a lot underneath.”

“Really?”  I said, poking my finger in the neck of the dressing gown and trying to open it.

She slapped my hand away, but only payfully.

“If you want to get inside my undies, Mr Flaythm, you’ll have to tell me what you really think about my tits.”

“Will I get inside them then?”

She gave me that dark, speculative look again, and her hand slid slowly and tantalisingly down my stomach, then stopped just short of my prick.  I groaned.

“Let’s say that if I believe what you say, I’ll give you a fuck if you want one.”

“Yes please.”

“And if I like what I hear, and I also believe it, I’ll give you a really slow, tight, extra-quality fuck.  What do you say about that?”

I choked on my coffee.  “Yes please.”

Her hand moved slowly in circles around my groin.  She leaned close and whispered in my ear, her lips brushing it as she whispered in my ear.  “And whatever you might think about my tits and my hairy pussy, you’ll find that I’ve got a very . . . very hot, juicy, and satisfying cunt.  And regardless of what they said about it in the pub last night, I can make it as tight as you want.  That’s a promise.  So what do you say?”

My prick stiffened in jerks now and her fingers trailed lightly across it.

“Yes please.”

“Then tell me the truth, and my cunt’s yours.”

I put my coffee down on the bedside table with a clatter and almost spilled it.

“Well, if you insist on the truth—”

“Go on!  You’re onto a decent fuck, regardless.”

“To be perfectly truthful. I’ve always fancied you have really long breast with big dark aureoles and long nipples.”

She hoisted an eyebrow.  “That turns you off, does it?”

I blinked.  “Hell no!  It turns me on like anything.”

“More than my cunt?”

“I don’t know.  The way you describe it, that sounds pretty fantastic too.”

“Hmmm!  We’d better find out then, hadn’t we?”

She turned towards me, opened the neck of her dressing gown, showing me her generous cleavage and the tops of her black bra cups.  “Like to be turned on some more, mister big prick?” she breathed invitingly as she nuzzled up close to me, a single finger stroking my erection through my trousers.  “Would you like a feel around a bit first?”

“Yes please.”

She undid the dressing-gown cord, it fell open and I felt inside.  She was warm and her skin was wonderfully smooth, like velvet.  I ran my hands over her bottom and between her legs, over her fully cut knickers.

“Come on!” she giggled in my ear.  “You didn’t have any trouble getting them off last night.”

“I thought we were going to show me your tits,” I reminded her.

“Perhaps you’d like to feel round my bra cups first, to be sure you really want me to get them out for you,” she suggested

I moved my hand up to the lacy cups.  He breasts were very soft, and as I ran my fingers over them, I cupped their weight in my palms, and I felt that her nipples were long and very hard.”

“Yes.  Please get them out for me,” I croaked.

She pushed herself off the mattress, straddled me, and slipped off the dressing gown.  Her breasts swung bulky and low against her thin lacy bra cups, and I could see the tantalising shadow of large dark disks round her protruding nipples.  She leant forward to unclip the bra, the breasts swung forward towards me and I saw the full, glorious length of her cleavage.   Kneeling upright again, she held the loosened cups in her hands to ensure that she didn’t yield up her treasure prematurely, and then, ever so slowly, she started to lift.  The white undersides of their mouth-watering cargo slid from the slowly rising cups, half an inch at a time, then, just as it seemed it would slide for ever, I saw the first hint of her large, chocolate brown aureoles.  The bra lifted even more slowly now, tantalisingly so. Suddenly the breasts were falling free; they slapped her stomach, seemed to bounce, and then swayed forwards toward me, ripe and heavy.

Ruth threw the bra across the room with panache.  “I imagine we won’t need that for a bit.”  She crossed her arms behind her back and thrust her breasts towards me.  “Satisfactory?”

I took them in my hands, gently stroking the undersides, and gazed admiringly at the large brown buttons and the long pink nipples dangling tastily before my face.  Ruth leaned forwards more and they brushed the hard teats against my lips, and I put out my tongue to taste them as she swung them slowly back and forth.  She knew how to tease, but I didn’t mind.  She put one hand behind my head, took a breast in the other, stroked it to make sure the nipple was fully up, then slid it slowly and deeply into my mouth.

“How do you like the taste?” she enquired, and her voice was smoky.

“Mmmm.  Wonderful.  Does the other one taste the same?”

“Greedy man!”  She giggled. “You’d better suck it and see.”  She swung the other nipple so that it dangled just in front of my lips.  Reaching down, she put her hand behind my head and lifted my mouth to that one too.

“How’s that?” she asked, lifting it out.  “Tasty as the other one?”

She lifted it out, dangled it, and then slowly lowered it into my gaping mouth again.  “Take your time.  I don’t want you leaving the table hungry.”

Lifting herself to a kneeling position astride me, she slowly unzipped my flies and pulled out my rigid prick.  I gasped as she stroked it with her fingers, and more when she started to stroke it with the crotch of her knickers, luxuriant padded with her abundant pussy hair.  Back and forth, back and forth, she stroked while her long dark nipples swung in and out of my mouth.

“I think you deserve the slow, tight fuck after all.  Would you like that?”

“Yes please,” I gasped.

“Would you like it now?” she enquired huskily.

“Yes please, Ruth.  Now.  Please.”

She got up and I raised my bottom while she slid my trousers and pants off, then deftly unbuttoned my shirt and slid that off too.  Stepping out of her knickers she climbed back on me and straddled me again, wonderfully naked.  Taking my swollen prick in her hand, she started stroking my knob it with her pussy hair, and I could feel the warmth and wetness within.  I smiled.

“Like that?” she asked.

“Oh yes.  Ted Foxter doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“I know, and I’ll show you why.”

With a quick stroke of her finger, she parted her hair and ever so slowly slid herself down over me, hot and moist.

“How’s that?”

“Wonderful,” I croaked, hardly able to contain myself now.

She slowly worked her cunt up and down a few times, then, gradually, the sensation started to change.  I felt my prick being squeezed by degrees, as if in a hot, powerful, lubricated fist. As Ruth heaved her body, the tight fist slid up and down the length of my shaft, pulling and pushing it, crushing it in its powerful grip.

“How’s that?” she enquired.

My mouth was dry with ecstasy.  “Unbelievable,” I barely managed to groan.

“Ted Foxter’s never had it like this,” she grinned.  “I only tighten my cunt and give the slow fuck to men I really like.”

“It’s not a cunt, Ruth — it’s paradise,” I moaned.

Indeed it was.  I hadn’t thought my erection could grow more, but it did, painful so against its unyielding constraint;  The more it grew, the tighter she gripped it, until I felt it was being crushed in the awesome depths of a deep, hot, perfumed sea.  Yet if Ruth’s cunt was an instrument of torture, it was a torture I didn’t want ever to end.  Just as I thought my prick would burst, she loosened her hold and I ejaculated long and deep into her.   I shot and shot.  I thought I would shoot for ever.  Then I lay back, feeling blessedly at peace.

“Thank you,” I said.

She leant over me and kissed me with surprising tenderness.  I wrapped her in my arms and kissed her in turn, thanking her from the bottom of my heart for the most wonderful orgasm of my life.

“I can think of only two other men in the village who’ve ever thanked me for a fuck,” she said conversationally, a little later, downstairs in the kitchen where we had shared a late breakfast.

“What?”  I couldn’t believe they were all so ill mannered.  “What do the others say?”

“Nothing.  Your typical Nether Slyper unzips his flied, pulls his pathetic little cock out — shoves it in — jerk, jerk, jerk — squirt — then zips his flies up and walks away again.  Mind you, they don’t get what you just got.  They get it loose.  I make the miserable fuckers work for their bit of fun.  But not you.”  She stroked the back of my hand.

“Because you like me?”

“Yes,” she said, her dark eyes looking frankly into mine.

“Why?”

“Because you laughed at my comments about the limp pricks at the bar, but not theirs about me.”

“How do you know?” I asked dropping my gaze to my hands, because I recalled that she had been bent over the table at the time, waiting for me to cane her.  “You were looking the other way,” I added awkwardly.

She smirked.  “I’ve developed a fine directional ear for a dirty laugh.”

“You were certainly a lot wittier than they were.”

Her eyes widened momentarily.  She leant across the table and kissed me again.  “Carry on like that and I’ll start falling in love with you.”

“Why?  Because I’ve paid you well deserved compliments?”

She grimaced.  “Men in Nether Slype don’t pay compliments.  They just grunt and take.”  She clasped my hand.  “Don’t ever change.  Don’t ever lose that.”  She slipped on the dress she’d washed and ironed and picked up her bag.  “I’d best go.  You can guess what my punishment will be if I’m late.  And Dangling Dick can make even me squeal.”

“And what about Nell?”  I asked, remembering the debauchery of the previous evening.

Ruth shrugged.  “Sore, but she’ll learn.  She’ll have to.”

“Learn what?”

“What Rosie and I know.  Make ‘em laugh and you get off lightly.  Act the poor frightened little wench and you inflame them, and you get it ten times worse.”

“Inflame me, you mean,” I said remembering how I had thrashed Nell with a will, and, now that Ruth had quenched my lust like no woman ever had before, I was ashamed, visibly so.

“I wasn’t your fault,” she said with a curt shake of the head.  “It was that revolting grandfather of hers.  It was the third time that evening he’d given that ghastly demonstration of his prowess.  His own granddaughter too, for pity’s sake, displaying her like a whore, and she’s only eighteen.  Plying the cane is his one skill you see, and, of course, typical of a man, he has to show off his little bit of tawdry prowess to his boozy friends, time and again.  He was a lousy shoe mender, you know.”

“Perhaps, but I did my bit too.”

“You couldn’t have done otherwise, Mr Flaythm.”

“Owen.”

She smiled and gave me the frank glance again.  “You couldn’t have done otherwise, Owen — the way they were egging you on.”

“But I wanted to, Ruth.  I wanted to.  And now I’ve done it I . . . .”

She squeezed my hand again.  “Not to worry.  You’re a nice man deep down.”

“I don’t think so.”

“But you are.  You know the old saying: a stiff prick has no conscience?”

“But it ought to, oughtn’t it!”

“Perhaps.  But we all have to conform, Owen, to a certain extent at least.  You’d have been a laughing stock if you’d backed down last night.  Anyway, must go.  And if you want the slow job again, just give me the nod.  I’d rather shag you than any of the others.  Anyway, must dash.”

That was wisdom of a sort too, I thought.  Now I was in Nether Slype, I supposed I had to do what they did.  At least, I had to do it to a degree, but it was a poor excuse.  Moreover, I knew that I would not only do it again, but also enjoy it again, again, and again.  Nevertheless, I vowed that in future, I would spare Nell and any others like her, and I would never be excessive, no matter what.

1. Griselda

“Owen!”

I was walking along the bridle path back from the church when I heard the soft clip-clop of hooves on the sweet-rancid-smelling leaf mould, for it was deep autumn now, and there had been rain.  I turned to see Griselda trotting towards me, in hacking jacket, boots, and jodhpurs, her magnificent bosoms jerking up and down like two pile drivers.

“Hello,” I called.  I hadn’t seen her for weeks, and then only to nod and wave to in passing, and I stepped to one side assuming that she would ride past me.  Instead, she reined up, jumped down and smiled at me dazzlingly while she walked round to the horse’s head and pulled down the bridle to lead it.  At least, her teeth dazzled in the golden autumn light.

“Hello, Griselda,” I said again.  “I haven’t seen you for a while.”

“I know,” she pouted.  “I’m beginning to wonder if you care for me at all.”

“Why?”

“I never see you.”

“Well, I never see you.  You told me you’d leave me alone until . . . until . . . .”  I thought of Flavius and changed my tack.  “You’re in charge, Griselda.”

“Yes, but you could have made an effort.”

I was bemused.  “What sort of effort?”

She kicked glumly at a stone.  “So many times I’ve looked from my bedroom at night, hoping to see you standing below, flushed and rigid with bottle-up lust, looking hopefully up at my window.  But you never are.”

“But you said we must appear to be just friends,” I reasoned.

“Well . . . perhaps.  But I still hoped you might show some interest.”

“But what about all the gossip you were so frightened of.”

“Not frightened!” she furiously kicked up a cloud of dead leaves.  “It would simply have been demeaning.”

“And you said it would make disposing of Flavius more difficult,” I reminded her, realising that standing erect under Griselda’s window might be a way of prolonging the inconvenient man’s life.

But she beamed at me.  “Oh, my poor darling!  Was that the only reason?”

“Well.  Erm . . . .”

She threw the bridle over the horse’s neck and lunged at me with both hands, her lips working feverishly over my face, her strong arms crushing me as she forced me back against a tree.  Her hand snaked down between us to my crotch and she caressed my prick through my trousers, and it inevitably stiffened in response.  “Oh my darling!  You mean you’ve been restraining yourself in the hope that we can be together sooner?”

“Well—”

She groaned and gnawed at my throat.  “Be brave just a little while longer, my stallion.  Just a little while.  Promise?”  And she applied her ravenous lips once more.

“I promise,” I gasped as I struggled for air, promising myself that from now on I would make regular visits by night to Nether Towers and loiter under her window, in the hope of warding off Flavius’s murder.  “I’ll try, Griselda.  But it’s so hard.  I . . . I don’t know if I can keep away for much longer.”

“Ooooh!”  She flung her arms round my neck and kissed me again, as though she believed all this play-acting was real and not a bizarre pantomime.  “Let me take your arm at least.  No one can see us, and after all, we are sort of engaged, aren’t we!”

I jerked as though struck by lightning.  “Engaged?”

“Well, yes.”

Dear God!  “But how can we be?  What about Flavius?”

She stamped her foot.  “Don’t keep on dragging him up, darling!  Let’s forget about him while we’re together.”

She slipped her arm through mine and we walked together like two old and close friends.  Bizarre!

“Perhaps we can see each other more often,” she suggested thoughtfully after we’d walked fifty yards or so in silence.  “Perhaps you were right when you said we could meet discreetly.  But we’d have to be very discreet indeed.”  She glanced up at the red and brown leaves arching overhead, and hugged my arm tightly.  “It’s a pity winter’s coming on.  I was silly.  We could have met in the woods while the weather was still warm.  We could have ripped each other’s clothes off and made naked, savage love in the bracken for hours and hours and hours and hours on end.  Perhaps we still could.”

“In the winter?”

She tugged at my arm.  “Don’t be a bore, darling.  It might be a bit chilly to start with.  But we’ll soon warm up if we’re shagging really hard,” she added brightly.  “Won’t we?”

“I still think it might be a bit—”

She stamped her foot and her eyes flashed.  “I said, won’t we!”

“Yes, Griselda.”

“Darling!”

“I meant darling.”

“Of course you did.”  She pecked my ear and hugged my arm tighter.  “And I doubt anyone will notice us.  Part of my estate is off limits, and I’m out with Phallus in the woods most days and—”

“Who or what is Phallus?” I laughed.  Her nonsense was unfathomable.

She blinked. “My dear horsey, of course.”  She slipped her arm out of mine and turned to the large chestnut stallion who was walking obediently behind us.  She stroked his nose and planted three kisses on the end of it.  I’ll swear the horse looked uneasy.  “I have lots of other horsies, of course, but Phallus is my favourite — though you mustn’t believe the revolting stories they tell in that low, disgusting public house.”

“The Seven Stripes?”

She sniffed.  “I don’t care to know what the ghastly place is called.  Anyway, there’s no truth in them.”

“Of course not,” I assured her, though in truth I wouldn’t have put anything past her.

“I use Bronco for that.”

My eyes must have popped, and Phallus rolled his as if to say, I told you so.  “You mean you . . .  you . . . with a horse?”

“Bronco’s my rocking horse, silly.”  She giggled, slipping her arm back through mine and clinging on as though it were a parachute.  “He’s my surrogate you.   He’s on four powerful springs and there’s a large knobbly dildo bolted upright to his saddle.  So when I’m feeling frussed — as I am most of the time — I go up to my bedroom, strip naked, leap on Bronco, and work him up to a really vigorous canter.  For hours and hours and hours sometimes.  It’s satisfaction of a sort.  The only satisfaction I’ve been able to get with Flavius still around.  But when we’re together, I promise I won’t use him any more — Bronco, that is.  I’ll jump on you instead . . . for hours and hours and hours and hours.”

“In thick custard?”

“Mmmmm!”

We walked on together in a strangely companionable silence.  She hugged my arm and stroked it, just like a normal woman would.  The last of the leaves were falling and the trees clawed at a grey sky with gaunt, black fingers.  The year was almost dead, and that reminded me again of Flavius.

“Look, Griselda, I—”

“Oooh!” She pouted at me so sorrowfully that her two front teeth disappeared behind her lower lip.  “Can’t you at least remember to call me darling when we’re like this?  After all, we’re alone, and we are in love.”

The machinations of a woman’s mind can often be bewildering, but how could she possibly think that we were in love?

“Look, Gris . . . darling, we hardly know each other and—”

“But we went through all that, didn’t we?  If we can’t be in love with each other, then who else can we be in love with?  Not with any of the peasants, surely?”  She sniffed.  “Unless, of course, you think you’re in love with that trollop from the public house.”

“Ruth?”

Her lips twitched.  “Ruth is it?  I don’t bother with names where low-lifes are concerned.  I saw you one evening staggering out of the public house with her, blind drunk, and heading in the direction of your house.  No need to ask whether you ended up in bed with her.  And Thwacks has seen you on other occasions—”

I was angry now.  “You’re having me watched?”

“Just keeping an eye on you, my dear, for your protection, and because I love you.  You know that”

“All I know is that Ruth isn’t a trollop!”  I said harshly, for I didn’t like hearing her called that.

“In other words, you are in love with her!”  Griselda sniffed again, like a wronged wife.  Her eyes latched balefully onto mine and a tear meandered slowly down one cheek.

I sighed.  I couldn’t afford to upset her.  “Look, I’m not in love with her, but all the same—”

“But!  Oh, of course.  But!”  Griselda’s riding crop twitched alarmingly.  “I suppose you call her, darling often enough!”

“I don’t, actually.”

“Don’t lie, Owen,” she said bitterly, with a very unladylike sniff.  “Of course you do!  I bet you say all sorts of things you never say to me . . . when you’re in bed with her!”

“Maybe because I never am in bed with you,” I countered disingenuously.  “I did offer to take you upstairs at the outset, you know.”

“That’s unfair.  You know why I couldn’t.”

“Because you’re a married woman.”

“Heavens, Owen!  Must you keep throwing that excuse for a man in my face?”

“I’m not.  But he’s your husband.”

“But he’s not a husband.  That’s the point.  He’s ten limp inches of useless gristle — that’s not a husband.”

“Even so.”

“Look let’s not have a tiff over him, darling.”  She rubbed my arm vigorously.  “Although I don’t mind us tiffing, because it proves we’re in love.  But not over him.  He’s not worth it, and anyway,” — her eyes narrowed — “he won’t be around much longer.  Then we’ll get rid of the trollop too.  Understood?”

“Dear God!  You’re not planning to murder her too?”

“Murder?” she blanked.  “Whoever said anything about murder?”

“Well, how else are you going to get rid of Flavius, as you put it?  And Thwacks?”

She blinked at me, utterly bewildered.  “Don’t be silly, darling!  You can’t go round murdering people!  Even dregs and peasants — more’s the pity.  No,” she smiled darkly.  “There’s more than one way of skinning a cat, my dear.  We’ll do to him what we always do to those who threaten our way of life, but in Flavius’ case I must find an excuse.”

So I’d been wrong.  My relief was overwhelming, but a mystery remained.  ” So what do you do to people who threaten your way of life?”

“Our way of life.”

“Oh very well!  Our way of life, then.  What do you do with them?”"

“Oh, darling,” she sighed, hugging my arm and laying her head on my shoulder like a wearied and exasperated wife.  “Can’t we talk about something else?”

I couldn’t budge her.  Try as I might, I couldn’t persuade her to tell me what happened to the people who threatened the Nether Slype way of life.  I was relieved, of course.  At least she wasn’t planning to murder anyone, so the threat of prison withdrew, or so I thought.  For it never occurred to me that what did happen to them might be as bad, or even worse, than murder.

We turned off the bridle path and into my lane.  When we emerged from the seclusion of the trees, she dropped my arm for discretion’s sake and walked beside me, leading the horse.  “Tell you what,” she suggested brightly.  “Why don’t you show me your house?”

“But what if you’re seen coming and going?  The neighbours?”

“It’ll only take five minutes.  Besides, your girl will be there.”

“Well . . . yes.  But I warn you, it’s a mess.”

Griselda blanked again, as though she’d just heard me fart in church.  “A mess?  What on earth do you mean, a mess?”

“It just is,” I grinned, and if I’d had my wits about me, I’d have known better.

Griselda marched round my drawing room in disbelief.  “A mess?  This place is a pigsty!”

I looked around.  It didn’t seem so bad to me, but I’m not the tidiest of men.  My workroom usually is a mess, but I hadn’t yet got round to organising a proper one, so at present I was working in the drawing room.

“This is what comes of consorting with trollops,” snapped Griselda, her riding crop twitching ominously.

“It’s got nothing to do with anyone or anything.”  I shrugged.  “I imagine I’ll get round to sorting out a proper workroom come winter.”

“You do it?  You?  A Flaythm?  Do menial work like sorting out rooms?  For heaven’s sake, darling, it’s the girl’s job, not yours.”

“Ginny?  She’s a great help.  She does my washing and ironing and cooks my dinner.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“And what!”  Griselda cast me a withering and exasperated glare, and making cuts through the air with the riding crop. “You’re clearly not working her hard enough!  Where is she?”

“I the kitchen I think, but—”

“Right!”

“No!  Wait!  Hang on, Griselda!  No!”

I fled after her, remonstrating all the way, as she stamped out of the room, down the passage, and flung the kitchen door open.  Ginny was sitting at the table reading a magazine while she waited for the washing machine to finish.  She glanced up.  Her eyes widened in sudden terror, she leapt to her feet startled, and backed away towards the dresser as Griselda bore down on her, riding crop swishing.

Ginny swallowed and dropped a hurried curtsey.  “Good morning, Lady Shackles.”

“Never mind about that, girl!”  Griselda glared at her, flexing the riding crop before her fearful eyes. “You’ve been slacking.”

Ginny’s lips trembled.  “No, my lady, I—”

“You dare answer me back, girl?”

“No, my lady, I—”

“Insolence!”

Griselda lunged at Ginny like a fury, seized her by the hair a positively flung her across the broad oak kitchen table, just as Old Horace had done in The Seven Stripes.  With a flick of the crop, Ginny’s skirt flew up over her head.  Griselda put her riding in her mouth and ripped down her knickers revealing two plump pink buttocks that wobbled like Rowntree strawberry jellies.

“Please, my lady—”

“Silence!”

“Griselda!” I shouted

“Quiet, Owen!  This girl needs disciplining.”

Griselda took the crop in her hand again and enthusiastically launched into a long sequence of vicious cuts, while Ginny thrashed about on the table, screaming.  I shut my eyes.  Why was I so impotent?  The screaming became shriller and shriller.  Ginny’s fiercely thrashing legs drummed against the table as Griselda delivered stroke after stroke after stroke with gusto and military precision, much as I imagine, Admiral Shackles had.  When at last she stopped, I could hear only sobs.  Griselda walked slowly and triumphantly round the table surveying her handiwork, slapping her own thighs with the crop.  “That’s just a taste, girl, of what you’ll get if I come again and find this place looking like a pigsty.   Understood?”

I opened my coward’s eyes.  Ginny lay on the table writhing and gasping like a fish that had just been pulled from a river, her hands twitching as they clutched at her cruelly lacerated bottom.

“Speak up, girl!  Or I’ll give you another twelve!”

“Y-yes . . . my lady,” sobbed Ginny painfully.

“And stop that irritating noise!”

Ginny sniffed.  “Yes, my lady.”

Griselda then turned to me and eyed me sternly.  “And I’m disappointed in you too, Owen.  You’re obviously not using your whip on the girl.  A fine lapse for a descendant of the man who held Admiral Shackles’ coat.”

“Perhaps I should have held yours,” I said bitterly.

Griselda’s eyes blazed.  “Don’t be flippant!”

“Aren’t you being?  At least Rickett Flaythm was my ancestor.  You talk about the admiral as though he were yours, but actually he was your husband’s?”

“My husbands?” she screamed furiously.  “My wretched — my . . . .”

She stared at me blankly for a few seconds, then, to my surprise, she dissolved into laughter.  She was still laughing when we returned to the drawing room.  She lifted a pile of books unceremoniously out of the sofa, dropped them on the floor with a thump, and then plunged her ample bottom into the vacated space, still shaking.

“I’m the Shackles, Owen dear,” she said when she’d recovered herself.  “My father died when I was twenty-five leaving me as his sole heir, and I immediately realised that I needed a husband — well, I wanted one . . . rather badly in fact . . . for reasons we’ve already discussed.  None of the local men were acceptable on grounds of class, so I put a small ad in one of the more exclusive hunting magazine: wanted for marriage, one blue-blooded eighteen inch penis—”

“Eighteen inches?” I snorted.  “There’s no such thing.”

“So they tell me.  But I worked on the premise that men exaggerate such things.  Anyway, Flavius arrived.  He wasn’t very bright but I didn’t want him for his brains.  So I sent him along to Dr Specter in the village for an examination.  Specter was amazed; he’d never seen anything so long — ten inches flaccid.  Of course, I should have locked Flavius in a room with a cheap tart — like yours from the public house — and made sure he could do the required job.  But I didn’t.  More fool me!  Ten inches flaccid it was, and ten inches flaccid it remained.  What with that and his complete lack of brains, conversation, or any desirable attribute at all — he can’t even ride a horse, for heaven’s sake! — I lost patience with him within a month.  I tried sending him back to his family but they didn’t want him either and they sent him straight back with a curt note telling me he was no longer their concern.  I didn’t blame them either, but all the same, what was I to do with him?  So I decided there was nothing else for it.  I chained him in the dungeon and there he’s remained ever since.”

“So he was already mad when you married him?”

“No darling.  Well, possibly he was.  I don’t know — I didn’t notice.  He was so dull and gormless that you really couldn’t tell one way or the other.  You see, he’s not chained in the dungeon because he’s mad.  He’s mad because he’s spent fourteen years chained in the dungeon.  At least, Thwacks reckons he’s gone mad because of it.  I can’t say I’ve noticed any change myself, but I really can’t be bothered to go down and check, so I take Thwacks’ word for it.”

“But his shouting,” I reasoned.  “He sounds like a slavering sex fiend.”

“Typical man, darling.  All talk and no action, so let’s not waste more time talking about him.  He’s history, or soon will be.”

“So, if you’re not going to murder him, exactly what are you going to do with him?”

She rolled her eyes.  “For pity’s sake, darling, do try to vary your conversation, or I might suspect you’re Flavius’s brother and pop you in the adjacent dungeon.  And I wouldn’t want to do that, at least, not before you’ve given me a good few really hard shaggings.”

While I digested this threat, she picked up the top book from the pile she’d dropped on the floor beside her and read the cover.  “Writers’ and Artists’ Yearbook?  What on earth do you want that for?”

“I’m a writer,” I said negligently, and immediately bit my tongue.

She looked at me querulously.  “A writer?  But you said you had a private income?”

“So I do,” I lied.  “I wouldn’t be able to afford to write if I didn’t.  It’s a hobby — well, more than that, a pleasurable occupation.”

A shadow of concern crossed her face.  She got up and started pacing round the room, glancing in a desultory way at the other piles of books and the manuscripts lying everywhere in disordered piles.  “I do hope you’re not writing about Nether Slype,” she said at last, and there was a note of regretful menace in her voice.  “We don’t take kindly to people trying to parade our little ways to the spineless puritan world beyond.”

“I wouldn’t call it puritan,” I scoffed.

“No, but it likes to think it is.  And it’s incredibly nosey.  It likes telling other people what they can and can’t do.  It endlessly questions their morals but not its own.”  She turned towards me and her eyes were creased with worry.  “So watch yourself, darling.  You wouldn’t want to be sent away would you!  And I for one wouldn’t want to see you go.  Truly I wouldn’t.”

On the face of it, she was threatening me with eviction from my house, and as all the properties in the villages were hers, I would be forced to leave.  Yet there was a note in her voice as she spoke the words sent away that sent a small shiver down my spine.  And her obvious regret reinforced it.

“How sent away, Griselda?” I asked.

She turned away and ran her fingers along the bookshelf.  “Never mind,” she murmured.  “I’m sure it won’t be necessary.  You’re an intelligent man, and your life here could be pleasant, especially as my husband.  But being a Nether Slyper requires discretion.  Others have been indiscreet and they’ve been forced to leave.”

“But isn’t that even more dangerous.  Once they’re gone they can blow the whistle with impunity.”

She wrinkled her mouth.  The two prominent teeth vanished then appeared again.  “Not . . . necessarily.”

There it was again, the threat.  And as if that weren’t enough she added quietly, “Don’t ever force me to do something that we’d both regret, my darling.  Duty must come before love.  I wish it didn’t, but it does.”

Dear God.  She really did think she loved me.  Perhaps she did, in her screwy way. However, the other matter was uppermost in my mind.  I wondered whether to pursue it, but caution told me that I had nothing to gain by making her suspicious.  I realised that Nether Slype like all nefarious and illicit pleasures, came at a price, and I was increasingly nervous about what that price might be.  So Flavius and Thwacks were not going to be murdered but sent away, permanently, no doubt.

At least it made sense of a sort.  If people were sent away for transgressions, then her need to find an excuse for ‘disposing’ of Flavius made sense.  But how ere they set away and where?  Where could they go where there was no threat of their blowing the whistle?  Some place of incarceration no doubt, but what could it be?

She was eying me narrowly.  “I don’t want to make threats, darling, really I don’t,” she said soberly.  “You must believe that.  But you must also understand that paradise comes at a price.”

I realised that there was no pointing in trying to question her further.  Instead, I needed to convince her that I was no threat.  Indeed, I had absolutely no intention of becoming one.  Keeping Nether Slype secret and secure was as important to me as it obviously was to her.

“Look,” I assured her.  “I’ve absolutely no intention of writing about Nether Slype.  As you can see from my books, I’m a mediaeval historian, or rather, I write novels about mediaeval times — thrillers and whodunits mostly.  So there’s nothing for you and the village to worry about.  I’ve been working in here, you see, and my workroom’s always a mess when I’m right in the middle of a project.  I’m going to organise an office upstairs, but the present project overtook me.  That’s why I told Ginny not to clean in here.  I didn’t want anything disturbed,” I added pointedly.  “She didn’t deserve the thrashing you gave her, Griselda.”

“Oh, don’t make a fuss about nothing, darling.”  She brushed my objection away with an airy flick of her hand.  “It’s what the peasants are there for.  If you want a peasant girl to work properly, you must keep her whipped, on principle.  I always do.”

“So I notice, but I don’t possess a whip, and I’m not—”

“Owen darling!”  Griselda blinked, her eyes lit up, she skipped across the room to me, suddenly girlish, threw her arms round my neck and planting a big wet kiss on my lips.  “We’re having our second  tiff.”  She kissed me again.  “Isn’t it exciting!  So we really must be I love, mustn’t we!  Tell you what.  I’ll make it up to you.  As soon as I get home, I’ll send someone down with one.  How about that?”

“With what?”

“A whip, of course,” she said gleefully.  “I’ll tie a big red ribbon round it and a card: With all my love, Griselda.  Then you’ll think of me when you’re thrashing the girl with it,” she added, eagerly.  “Or better still, I’ll send you an assortment.  That’ll be romantic, won’t it?”  She kissed me on the nose, just like she’d kissed Phallus, and I felt as bemused as the horse had looked, like a dog being given a chocolate drop.  “Anyway, must dash.   Phallus has been tethered out there for a while and people will talk if he’s there much longer.  See me to the door, darling!”

I dutifully walked her out into the hall, but as I put my hand to the door to open it, she seized me and gnawed at my face again for a moment.  “It won’t always be like this darling.   Soon we’ll be together, naked in our bed, strenuously shagging as only desperate lovers can — for hours and hours and hours and hours on end.”

She kissed me again, softly and passionately, and gave me a last caress.  Then she was off down the drive.  I watched her climb on her horse.  She waved.  “Toodle pip!”  And she was off.   Her kisses and caresses were becoming more tender, and I realised that the dotty and dangerous woman wasn’t playing a game at all; she really was falling in love with me, or thought she was, which was just as alarming.  Worse, she seemed convinced that I was in love with her.

Poor Flavius.

1. Celia

Next day, just after breakfast, I was at work on my new novel when the doorbell rang.  Ginny was out shopping, so I opened it myself to an attractive dark-haired girl of about twenty holding a large brown-paper parcel.  She was wearing the grey dress and apron of a maid from Nether Towers.

“With her ladyship’s compliments, sir,” he said breathlessly, and bobbed.

I took the parcel.  Through the paper, I could feel that it contained several long, flexible objects.  “Er . . . thank you.”

I made to close the door but the maid slipped deftly past me into the hall.  I looked at her perplexed and she bobbed again.  “I’m Heather, sir,” she said, still breathlessly.  “Her ladyship said you were to use me as you wished. Rigorously and repeatedly, sir.”

“Rigorously?  Repeatedly?  How?”

“Any way to like, sir.  Any time of the day . . . or night.”  She gave me the coyest of blushes.  “If you see what I mean, sir?”

How could I not see?  But I’d been with Ruth overnight and I was full of my new book.  I simply wasn’t in the mood for sex games.  And it seemed odd that Griselda should profess love for me and then send such a girl.  Perhaps she was testing me.

“Look,” I said as coldly as I could.  “Why don’t you go into the kitchen and wait for Ginny to return?  She’ll tell you what needs doing.”

“Don’t you want to inspect my credentials first, sir?” said the girl, smoothing her dress and apron provocatively over her ample bust, her coy smile now edged with wantonness.  She began to unbutton the bodice of her dress.  “I think you’ll find them more than satisfactory, sir.”

I’ve never been susceptible to the brazen approach, and never less than at that moment.  “Not now,” I said, even more coldly.  “I’m busy.  Go and see what Ginny wants you to do.”

Her eyes flared at the put down.  I thought for a moment that she was going to slap my face.  But the struggle was only brief.  Her eyes fell to the floor and she bobbed again.  “Very good, sir.”

Back in my workroom I opened the parcel.  The only surprise was the variety of whips Griselda had sent me, ranging from straps and tawses with ornately sculpted handles, several plaited jobs of varying lengths and weights, and a particularly vicious one with three knotted tails — a sort of cadet version of the Shackles Patent Flogger.  I took them into my drawing room come workroom.  As I dropped them on the coffee table, something fluttered out.  I bent to pick it up and found that it was a card written with black ink in a schooled masculine-looking hand.

Enjoy, my darling,  and think of me.  With desperate love, Griselda.

With desperate love!  She could produce a nice turn of phrase.  I couldn’t help smiling at her screwy earnestness, and an evil thought entered my mind, that perhaps I’d baptize her gift on her own bare bottom.  She certainly needed a good spanking — with a bottom like hers clad in those tight jodhpurs, she was positively begging for one — and I assumed no one was giving her one.

Some while later, Ginny returned and came in with my tea.  She usually put it on my desk and left quietly, being sensible enough not to disturb me at my work, for which I was grateful.  She was an excellent girl for me: quiet, unobtrusive, and intelligent. But today she hovered at my elbow, waiting.  I had ignored her since Griselda’s tirade.  She had not deserved the punishment, which was anyway excessive, but I was embarrassed, feeling that I had lost control of a situation.  I, as the man of the house, should have been in control.

“Sorry about yesterday, Ginny,” I said softly, looking especially hard at my computer screen.

“That’s all right, sir.”

“No it’s not all right.  I should have been firmer with Lady Shackles.  I should have stood up to her.  I should have stopped her.  I’m sorry.”

There was a brief silence, then, “So will you still be wanting me any longer, sir?”

I looked up at her in surprise.  “What do you mean?”

She swallowed.  “Well, sir, I’m obviously not giving satisfaction, and her ladyship has sent a replacement, and—”

“Not a replacement, Ginny,” I assured her.  “I’m more than happy with you—”

“It’s just that the new one’s trained, sir.  Properly trained to work, trained to pleasure, trained to the whip—”

“Trained to it?”

Ginny seemed surprised.  “Why yes, sir.  She’s one of them as has been to Mrs Birch’s Academy for Naughty Wicked Girls in Long Wallop, and she passed out top of her class — or so she says.  Loves it, she does, sir.   And she’s already told me what a tight, juicy cunt she’s got, sir, and all the tricks she’s been taught to play with it.”

“She fancies herself.  That’s for sure,” I murmured.

“That’s as maybe, sir.  But as you’ve never seen fit to sample my cunt—”

I turned and looked at her in alarm.  “But you’ve got a boyfriend, Ginny,” I exclaimed.

“Perhaps, sir, but I’m not properly spoken for as yet.  And as my employer, you’re entitled to take your pleasure of me if you wish.  A girl expects to be tried out at least once, sir.  But you’ve never shown interest, so I’ve been thinking maybe you’re dissatisfied with me and—”

“I’m perfectly satisfied, Ginny,” I assured her.  “More than satisfied and very pleased with you.  Look, I can’t offend Lady Shackles by sending the other girl back right away.  So let’s make use of her.  Set her to work.  Get her scrubbing and cleaning.  She can sort out all those unused upstairs rooms.  Then you can send her down and clean out the cellar — thoroughly.  You’re in charge, Ginny.  If she gives you any lip — any lip at all — come to me and we’ll find out how trained to the whip she really is — both of us.”

I noticed an evil glint in Ginny’s eye.  For the first time ever, she bobbed.  “Yes, sir.”  To my surprise, she leaned over me and kissed me chastely on the cheek.  “Thank you, sir.  I’ll make the bitch work all right.”

I gave her a hug for that — nothing sexual, you understand; no groping; just a hug.  She was a nice girl and I liked her.  “Your job’s perfectly safe with me, Ginny.”

*****

I was in a good mood when I entered The Seven Stripes for a lunchtime pint, where I spent half an hour in amiable conversation with a couple of my neighbours.  But as I was leaving, a hand touched my arm and I turned to see Ruth.  She cocked her head meaningfully towards a discreet corner so I followed her into it.

“There was someone asking for you last night, Owen,” she said in an undertone, once she was sure no one could overhear us.

“Asking for me?  Asking whom?”

“Me thankfully.  It was a stranger.  A woman.  She marched in, looked around and made a beeline for me.  She was trying to find out your address.”

“What did she look like?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady, for an awful premonition had struck me.

“Quite tall, thin as a rake, long blonde hair . . . oh, and she was smoking a cigarette with a gold filter end.”

I swallowed.  I knew who the woman was, Celia my literary agent.  I’d given her detailed instructions for contacting me, and they hadn’t included walking into The Seven Stripes, bold as brass, and asking for my address.

“Did you give it to her the address?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because . . . .” Ruth looked around the bar to make sure that no one was prying, and then she pulled me further into the corner and lowered her voice.  “She asked first for a Peter Jenkins.”

That had been my name before I changed it to Owen Flaythm.  I swallowed.  “Go on.”

“Then she asked for a Rupert Butler.  I said I’d never heard of either of them.  So then, as if it was just a final, spur-of-the-moment thought, she asked if I’d heard of the name Flaythm.  She said she thought someone of that name had just moved in.”

“And you said?”

“I told her I’d heard of none of them.”

But Celia had dug up Colonel Flaythm for me, and she knew I’d moved here. She’d have put two and two together and strongly suspected that Ruth was lying.  Knowing Celia, that would set her devious mind working overtime.  Damn!  “Who else heard this?”

“No one.”

“You’re sure!”

“Yes.  She walked straight out again, got in her car, and I watched her drive round the green and back down the lane out of the village.”

Perhaps, but Celia wouldn’t take no as a permanent answer if her curiosity was aroused.  I knew I should have sacked her before I came to Nether Slype.  I should have sacked her before I announced my intention of living there.  I should have hired less of a go-getter to take her place, someone who could be trusted to protect my anonymity.  Fool!

Ruth was eyeing me with sharp now.  She clutched my arm and drew me towards her.  “What’s going on, Owen?”

“Going on?”

“Who’s Rupert Butler?”

“Oh, that’s easy.  I was a historical novelist — am a historical novelist.  Rupert Butler is the name I write under.”

Her eyes popped with surprise and she smiled.  “Oh!  They’ve got one of yours in the library.  I’ve read it.  It’s ever so good.”

“I know they have,” I grimaced.  It was the worst thing I’d ever written.  Nevertheless, I thanked Ruth for her compliment.  “I don’t advertise the fact,” I said, “but Lady Shackles knows about it.  She knows I’ll be discreet.”

“You’d better be.  And who’s Peter Jenkins?”

“Ah!  He’s . . . he’s . . . .  O bloody hell!”

She was looking at me earnestly now, and her eyes were bigger, darker, and more beautiful than they’d ever been.  She also looked scared — for my sake.  “Look, Owen, you can trust me,” she said softly, and I knew it to be the simple truth.  “I am your friend, you know.”

I gently squeezed her hand.  “Perhaps the only true friend I have here — and the only one I want to have.”

Half an hour later, we sat out on the green, on a remote but open seat where we could talk without risk of being overheard.  We must have looked a strange pair, sitting in the cold slanting rain, me in my thorn proof jacket and Ruth in her raincoat and hat.

“So, who is he?” Ruth asked again.  “Or perhaps I should say, who are you?”

I licked my lips.  “Why do you ask that?”

“Because I’ve slept with you quite a few times.  You’ve muttered one or two strange things in your sleep. Most men do that, of course, but there have been other times, when we’ve talked, and I’ve formed the impression you’re being very careful with your words, and thinking before you speak.  I think you’re a man with a secret, my dear.  A man with a history.”

“Who have you told of this?” I asked, perhaps a little shortly.

“No one!” she countered fiercely.  “I’m your friend, Owen . . . or should I say Peter?”

I blew a long breath.  Well, I thought.  I’m not surprised she’s worked it out.  If a man has two names, why not three?  “Best stick to Owen for all our sakes,” I confessed.

I told her my story then, about discovering Nether Slype and loving the place, the apparent impossibility of living here.  The subterfuge.  It was good to tell someone, though I worried that I might be compromising Ruth and that was last thing I wanted to do.

“So you’re not spying on us?”

“No!  Good heavens no.  I’ve told you the absolute truth, all of it.  I just came because I loved the place — a precious surviving piece of the old England I write about, and I had no idea at all of your local peculiarities before I moved in.”

She savoured that for a moment. “Of course, to us, they’re not peculiar.  It’s the outside that’s strange.”

She wasn’t far wrong either.  “In some ways I suppose it’s better out there in the big bad world,” I said.  “Women have more legal protection and higher status, though I’m sure that’s not all it’s cracked up to be.  It’s a world of illusion, pretence, image, gloss, and little substance.  It can be a grubby, murky place — at least I think so — and in many ways, its far worse than anything you’ll find here.  I came here because I was searching for something cleaner.  And I still think I found it, despite your little foibles.”

She digested that.  “And the woman who came questioning?   Who’s she?”

“Celia, my literary agent.  She knew I was coming here, of course.  She had to.  But I told her to leave me alone, the nosey bitch.”

“So why hasn’t she?”

“That’s what worries me.”

“Could she be trouble?”

“Oh yes,” I sighed deeply.  “Most certainly.”

*****

And so it came to pass.

A few days later, an hour after sunset, there was another knock on my door.   The new girl, who appeared to assume she was a live-in, came into the workroom and bobbed.  “A lady to see you, sir.”

I thought it might be Ruth, or even Griselda, but my face fell when the workroom door opened again, and Celia was standing in the threshold.  She marched in with a triumphant smirk on her face that I knew spelt trouble.  Without thinking, I took her through to my workroom come sitting room and shut the door, forgetting what was still lying on the coffee table.

“You’re a hard man to find, Peter,” she said provocatively, helping herself to my sofa.  It sounded strange being called Peter after months as Owen.

“What do you want?” I asked bluntly, and pointlessly, for I’d already thought through all the likely reasons.

“That’s not a nice way to greet me, darling.”

“How did you find me?”

“I asked some drab in the pub.  I assumed you’d know all the local pub sluts.”

“Watch your tongue!”

Celia giggled.  “So you are shagging her!  Thought she looked your type.  Her knickers were positively round her ankles, and as for that bra she was wearing. . . .”

I fought to control my temper.  “Never mind that.  She told you nothing.  Did she!”

“No.  But I reckoned she’d come running to tell you I was looking.  She obviously did — which proves you’re shagging her.  So I came back tonight and played the poor lost little female.  I found some ghastly old man out in the street somewhere and wiped my fanny round him.  He looked as though he’d never seen a woman like me—”

“I imagine he hadn’t,” I snorted.

“Meow, darling!   I almost had to go down on my knees and suck his cock to get the address.  Almost, thank God.”

“So now you’re here, what do you want?”

By way of reply, she looked curiously at the paper parcel in the coffee table before her and I regretted more than ever not keeping my workroom tidy.  She’d always been a nosey cow, so she lifted the edge and looked inside.  Her fiercely pencilled eyebrows rose.

“Kinky!”

“Nothing of the sort,” I lied, fighting the obviously guilty temptation to snatch the parcel and move it out of her reach.  “They’re research items for my latest novel.”

“Hmmm.  Sounds a sight more interesting than your last.”  She picked up the card and smirked.  “Who’s Griselda?  You whip slut?  Sounds more like a dominatrix to me — high boots and riding crop.”  Celia, for all her irritating ways, had a habit of hitting the nail on the head.

I snatch the card out of her hand.  “This was attached to something else entirely,” I lied.  “You know how untidy I am.”

“Hmmm.  So she’s not the drab from the pub then?”

I gritted my teeth.  “No!  And my personal life is none of your damned business.”

“I’m afraid you’re wrong there,” she said triumphantly.  “And as for your kinky BDSM gear, it bears out my other discoveries.”

“Discoveries?”

“Whispers, darling and a few juicy little piccies.  Things that would have the women’s-rights commandos besieging this place with gelding knives.”

“Since when did you care about women’s rights?”

“Don’t be silly, darling.  I don’t give a toss about them.  But I’ll become a fully-paid-up sister if it’s to my advantage.”

That was typical of the bitch.  I knew she was telling the truth.  “And?”

She got up and walked round the room with that infuriatingly smug look on her face that I’d seen before when she knew she held all the cards.  So often, when she’s been acting in my interest, negotiating for me, it had been an infallible sign that we’d just won a nice, fat, remunerative point or were about to.  And Celia knew all about remuneration.  Cash and cheques were her sole interest in life.  Her avarice had done wonders for my bank balance, and hers of course.  Even so, I’d never liked it, or her.  And she wasn’t acting in my interest now, but her own, — and something cold trickled in the pit of my stomach.

“Nice place you have here.  Must be worth a bit.”

“What have you come for, Celia?  I didn’t invite you.”

“I was concerned for you, darling, and—”

“Cut the shoddy crap!  The only thing about me that’s ever concerned you is the commission I pay you and how you can extend it.”

“The commission I deduct, darling.”

“Don’t chop words!  Why are you here?”

She smiled smugly at me again, and the ice trickled once more.  Without asking permission, she produced her silver cigarette case, took out a cigarette, knocked it on the lid, and lit it.  “Got an ashtray, darling?”

I went into the kitchen and found a saucer.  When I returned, she was lying full length on the sofa, her expensively stockinged legs were crossed at the ankles, the cigarette hung of the corner of her mouth, and she was idly reading my latest manuscript — of pretending to.

“That’ll be ready in about three months,” I said, pulling it out of her hand.  “If you’re interested.”

“Perhaps,” she replied, knocking out ash into the saucer.  “Perhaps not.  I’m onto something far bigger than a measly commission.  I might cut you in, but only for a small share.”

“What?  Why?”

“Because you’re compromised, so you can’t bargain.  But as you might prove useful, so I’m throwing you a bone.”

She smiled a smile that says, I’ve got you by the nuts, and if you don’t jump when I say so, I’ll pop them into the mincer.

I knew I had to tough it out as best I could.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lied.  “How compromised?”

“The same way every other man in Nether Slype is compromised, darling.  They, of course, were born here.  But you . . . oh, well, you came looking for it.”  She stretched out and nudged the parcel of whips with her foot.  “You can’t very well claim ignorance.  Now can you?”  She let the point sink in, and then continued.  “I wondered why you were so keen on this piss-hole of a place.  I heard your tale about driving through here and falling in love with it . . . blah  — blah — blah.  But I was curious.  After all, there are so many quiet, dull little villages in England.  Why jump through such fantastic hoops to move to this one?”

“It happened to be the truth,” I said patiently.

“Yes, yes of course, darling.  And I foolishly believed for a very short while that the architecture, the oldie-worldie charm, and the woods had captivated you.”

“They had,” I protested.

“Quite.  But that wasn’t all, was it!”  She exhaled smoke extravagantly, as she so often did before delivering the deathblow.  “I never realised you were a bottom freak.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said too hurriedly, and the shrewd glance that slanted at me through the thin blue smoke told me that she knew I was lying.

She took a photograph out of her handbag, put it on the coffee table, and slid it across to me.  I looked at it and cringed.  The vicar was there with his colleagues from the adjacent villages.  They were sitting side-by-side in one of the vicarage gardens having tea.  Their wives were there too.  One was carrying a tray, painfully suspended from nipple clamps.  The second was bent over the table holding a cane between her clenched buttocks — clearly waiting for punishment.   The third was on her knees servicing the three vicars’ cocks, sucking the middle one and wanking the other two.  The three women were all naked.  Their bottoms were clearly visible, and all three bore multiple strap welts.

I cleared my throat and tried to affect an unimpressed shrug.  “Three kinky clergymen in a domestic setting.  What of it?”

“Yes, I thought you’d say something like that.  There are others, too, though this is the best so far.  I’ve been skulking up on the hill over the village with my telephoto lens.  Vicars and bottoms — hardly word news, though it’s still grist to the Sunday rags’ mill.”

“You despise the Sunday rags.”

“I used to, darling, but they’ve become prospective milsch cows, so I’ve become enthusiastic about their crusading moral zeal.  I mean, they will be absolutely appalled by this, won’t they!  And their dull-brained readers will be so horrified they’ll have to rush out and buy the story in instalments.  I think I feel an undisclosed six-figure payment coming on.”

“For one dodgy photo?  The Internet’s dripping with them.”

“Yes, but there’s more than that, to dig for,” she said with maddening certainty.   “When I came here, I thought only to enlist your help with my story, however—”

“Your story?” I sneered.  “Since when could you write a story?”

“But when I saw your kinky bondage whips I knew—”

“I haven’t used them, for God’s sake,” I insisted, and it was the literal truth.

She shrugged.  “Perhaps, perhaps not.  I don’t care one way of the other.  But I have other photos — not as good, nor as clear as the three kinky vicars, but enough to show that this place is a hotbed of sexual perversion.  And I really think that the outside world, with its high moral values, should know about it.”

Dear God, what a mess!  I thought of what it would do the people here.  I considered that not every man in the village was a vicious wife beater.  What would become of them, the poor sods?  They’d go through life hearing: so you lived in Nether Slype did you?  Nudge-nudge, wink-wink.  I thought of the lives ruined.  And what of the women?  How would they cope out there in the big bad world?  They’d be assumed easy meat by the sort of men who’d knock their teeth out, or worse, which the men in Nether Slype definitely didn’t do.  What sort of interests would home in on them, prowl round, and snap them up?  How many would end up on street corners, on drugs — which were nowhere to be found here?  How many might end up in brothels?  How many would turn to drink, which was not abused here.  How many would be able to deal with debt, which was endemic outside?  How many would be able to deal with the deep dishonesty of so many enterprises and advertisements?  They would believe what they were told and they would suffer for it.  For all its faults, Nether Slype was an honest and uncomplicated place, free of cynicism.  No.  They could never deal with the ‘freedoms’ and stresses of Celia’s bright, clean, tacky world.

Nether Slype had its flaws — no doubt of that — its illicit delights, and its injustices, but so did the outside world.  That was why the Sunday rags went hunting for dirt — to persuade their readers that the world they thrived in was not as grubby dishonest, cynical, nasty, dirty, pernicious, and downright dangerous, as I knew it to be.

“Don’t do it Celia,” I asked.

“Why ever not, darling?”

“Just don’t do it.”

“Well, I’m sure I’d be most happy to oblige you, but money’s money and one never quite has enough of it.”

“No matter how much damage you do?  How many lives you wreck?”

“Not my life; not my problem.”

And that attitude irritated me beyond endurance.  It was so typical of the times, one of the things I had run away from when I came to Nether Slype.  I have never been averse to money, cleanly and honestly made.  I’ve made a good deal of it myself, but only because people wanted to buy my books, none of which were written for the purpose of making an obscene or dishonest fortune.  In Nether Slype, those who prospered were those who worked, cleanly and honestly, and they did work too.  Despite their quirks, they were honest and industrious in the old-fashioned way.  There was no dirty money here — the sort of money Celia was after — the way money could made outside, where even as dead child had a market value — called compensation.  That struck me as the true obscenity, and whatever went on in Nether Slype was venial by comparison.

“It’s all right, darling,” said Celia, looking at me with big mocking eyes, knowing that I was helpless.  “Play ball and I’ll protect your blessed good name.”

“How?  Why?”

“Well, I might believe that you didn’t know everything that’s going on here when you arrived.”

“I didn’t.”

“Quite.  So tell me, what’s the really juicy stuff — gay orgies in the church at midnight?”

“Nothing like that?”

“What about kids?  I bet there’s plenty of child abuse.”

“For pity’s sake!  None at all.  Nothing like that.  It’s all straight, and kids are brought up a damned site cleaner here than most are outside.”

She pouted.  “A pity.  There’d certainly be money in that.  Child abuse is a real headline grabber.  Never mind, you can always drop some hints.  A few pregnant hints are much more marketable than one miserable fact.  All you have to do is drop the question:  If that’s what the parents get up to, what about the kids?  Nudge-nudge.  Wink-wink.  See what I mean?”

“What do you mean — all I’ll have to do?”

She furiously stubbed out her cigarette in the saucer and lit another.  “Didn’t I say?  That’s where you come in useful.  You write the piece.  You do the sleuthing.  You dig out all the lovely lucrative dirt — let’s say twenty-thousand words, broken down into handy two-thousand-word chunks for the Sunday rags.  After all, the morons who read them have no attention span.  I’ll market it.  I’ll make sure your name — whichever you’re masquerading under at present — is kept out of it.  Then we’ll split the haul — seventy-thirty.”

“And who gets the seventy?” I asked, my mind racing for a means of stalling her.

“Me, of course.  You’re hardly in a position to negotiate.”

“Fifty-fifty.”

“You’re not listening, darling.  I said—”

I rounded on her.  “Fifty-fifty or go to hell!  Think of it Celia.  You can go running to the papers with your feeble half-cock yarn, but if Rupert Butler then steps forward with the whole story, claiming to have been working on an under-cover expose which you tried to pre-empt, breaking your confidentiality contract, and offering the real juicy dirt, I’ll be the hero and you’ll crawl away looking pretty bloody fifth rate.  So it’s fifty-fifty, and no argument.”

She screwed out her second cigarette with fury and lit a third.  I was gratified to see that my bluff had rattled her.  Her hand shook slightly with stress of seeing all that easy money slipping through her viciously manicured fingers.  “No need to make threats, darling,” she simpered.

“Who’s making threats?  I’m just telling you where you stand, just as you were pathetically trying to tell me a while ago.  You’re a clerk, Celia.  You’re the sort of drudge creative people like me get to do their boring menial chores.  That’s what I pay you for.  You’re the vermin that crawls around talent licking up the dirty crumbs off the floor.  I’ll pay you fifty-percent to do all the newspaper legwork, fill in the forms, attend the tedious meetings, the bloody lot, and you’ll keep my name out of it.  But the copyright remains mine, as per our standing contract.  Break that contract in any shape or form and I’ll sue.  Then you and your tawdry fucking partners will be the pariahs of the book trade for the rest of your miserable lives.  Don’t forget, Celia, a compromised high-profile author can make enormous money, but a crooked agent is dead meat.  So you’ll do as your bloody well told!”

She looked really scared now, and I enjoyed that.  It had been a strong bluff before I realised it wasn’t a bluff at all.  She was my agent.  What she had threatened to do would constitute a breach of agent confidentiality.  Even if I couldn’t press it, she knew as well as I did that once the story was out, no self-respecting author would touch her.  Now it was time to close for today and think what to do next.

“So I’ll write your piece.  You’ll return for it in fourteen days, and you’ll return discreetly, like tonight.  Until then, sod off!”

She blinked.

“Are you deaf or brain damaged, you gutter slag?  I told you to fuck off!”

She fucked off all right, tail between her legs, and it gave me deep satisfaction to see her crawl away like that.  One thing was sure; when this was over, I’d drop the evil cow and use another agent for my future novels.  I’d also put the word around that she’d tried to strong-arm me.  That would properly finish her.

But deeper down, I was less elated.  The story was out.  Nothing could stop Celia whispering.  And whispers beget rumours, rumours beget scandals, and scandals can beget deep trouble.

“Shit!  Shit!  Shit!” I yelled at the top of my voice once I’d heard the front door slam.  I picked up a couple of books and hurled them across the room, and then kicked furniture in my anger and frustration.  “Shit!”

I heard my workroom door open again and turned to see the new girl, Heather, leaning in the doorway.  She was completely naked, her firm young breast thrust at me almost accusingly, and her eyes smouldered.

“You called for your piece of wanton pleasure shit, sir?”

She walked brazenly towards me, lithe and loose hipped, her triangle of pussy swaying and the fat nipples on her pert breasts nodding as though they were on elastic.  She was mesmerising, but I was angry and not in the mood for sex.

“Fuck off!”

She still approached, smiling.  “Heather would love you to fuck her, sir.”

“I said, fuck OFF!”

“Heather would love you to toss her off, sir.”

I rarely get uncontrollably angry, but this girl was tipping me over the edge.  “Don’t you understand English, girl?” I yelled at her.

She stood right before me, challenging me, her eyes dancing with delight.  Her hand slid to my fly and I stood, stunned as she slowly unzipped it.  Her finger slipped inside and she started to expertly stroke my cock.  All the while, her eyes smouldered into mine and the tip of her tongue slicked between her wet lips.

“Heather only understands the whip, master.”

Despite my stiffening cock, something in me snapped.  Slapping her twitching hand away, I seized her by the hair and flung her to the ground, where she lay squirming, and a slow, unfathomable smile suffused her face.

“That’s it, master,” she murmured with ill-suppressed excitement…  “Use your whip!  Enjoy yourself!”

In blind fury, I reached for Griselda’s parcel and grabbed the first whip that came to hand.  I’d show the bitch what a real whipping felt like — not the feeble crap they obviously dished out at Mrs Birch’s Academy for Naughty Wicked Girls but the real thing.  I seized the big whip with the three knotted tails, but I didn’t care.  Standing astride Heather’s naked body I started lashing her with all my strength.  She writhed and thrashed under a dozen merciless strokes — three tails each, but every time she twisted, she glanced up at me and her face was alight with pleasure.

“That’s it, master!  Pleasure yourself!”

Still I slashed at her, her shoulders, her back, her buttocks, her thighs; all quivered under my merciless tirade, slender red wheels and cuts criss-crossing them.  She juddered; I still plied the whip with all my strength.  Still she smiled, turning herself onto her back and offering me her breasts and stomach.  Her legs were open, her back arched; she was thrusting her pussy towards me for punishment, still smiling.

“Don’t forget to whip my cunt, master.”

On an on I lashed in a frenzy I’d never experienced before.  I didn’t care how much I hurt her, I needed to hurt her.  I lashed everything she offered me while she writhed, smiling still, her face flushed with some indescribable ecstasy that drove me ever onwards.

She rolled back onto her stomach, rose to her hands and knees, and started to crawl, but not towards the door.  I felt her hands sliding softly and slowly up my legs.  Still she smiled up at me, her mouth open, panting in her wild pleasure.  I lashed all the harder now; the leather tails slapped sliced into her soft flesh with pistol-shot retorts.

Still the hands slid slowly upwards, up my thighs, towards my cock.  She rose to her knees, seemingly oblivious of the new vertical stripes the whip was cutting into her back and bottom.  Her hands reached my open flies; her fingers slid inside, and with well-practised deftness, found my rigid cock and pulled it out.

“You’re so angry, master,” she breathed.

And then she was sucking, powerfully, frantically.  I felt her throat moving round my knob, her tongue wriggling like a snake all round my rigid shaft, her firm lips circling it moving succulently back and forth.

“Shit!”

I was blazingly angry now.  I flung down my whip, pulled her off by my cock the hair, grasped her wrists, and hauled her to her feet.  Then I slammed her across the desk, pinning her down by the shoulders.  Still she didn’t stop teasing me.  Her hand reached down stroking my swollen cock, her legs wrapped themselves round me, she slid her whipped crotch towards me and her cunt enveloped my manhood like molten lava.  Her vaginal muscles tightened round it, and she flexed her cunt this way and that, toying with my swollen cock.

“Enjoy yourself, master,” she purred.  Her legs wrapped round me more tightly, pushing her tight, juicy hole right over me, down to my balls.

I was thrusting now, uncontrollably, thrusting deep inside her despite my anger, jerking her body rhythmically across the desk with each gigantic heave.  Thrust, thrust, thrust, thrust.

Then my anger was gone, I was shooting my load right up her, long and thick.  The release was heavenly.  I flopped across her, and as my gasping breath eased, I relaxed, and my conscience kicked back in…

“God, I’m, sorry,” I groaned, knowing that it was weak and inadequate.  “Why did you provoke me, you stupid girl?  I was so bloody angry.”

She smiled up at me and her voice was gentle, controlled, and warm.  She kissed me on the nose and then softly on the lips.

“Not to worry, master.  That’s what Heather’s here for.  Lady Shackles thought you might need a release, so she sent me to you.”

1. Confession

But relief and respite of the type Heather gave me is brief.  I awoke next morning to find her curled round me.  Her perfume was heavy and it started to arouse me, but as I ran my hands over her body, I felt the raised welts, and remembered.  Not only did my shame return, but also the reason for my fearful tirade.  Celia.  Now that the anger had gone, and only the fear of what she might do remained, none of Heather’s wiles and arts could distract me from it.  So I gruffly sent her downstairs to make my breakfast while I wondered what I could do.

I could simply turn and run with my tail between my legs — return to the world of monotonous grey, relentless health warnings, free credit checks, shoddy ethics, and increasingly perverse human rights.  Alternatively, I could fall in with Celia’s shabby little scheme — but I wasn’t prepared to give her that satisfaction.  I don’t think it was courage that decided me to remain and tough it out, nor stubbornness — though I’m a stubborn sod when I’m crossed.    Neither could I entirely persuade myself that I meant to do it for the sake of the villages.  If I’m honest, I did it for myself.  I liked living in Nether Slype, and I was damned if some dirty little moneygrubber was going to spoil it for me.

Therefore, I fled to the one person whom I could trust and who already knew the truth.

“So early in the morning?” quipped Ruth with a grin as she opened her cottage door.

“I’m not after that, Ruth.”

Her smile vanished.  Her perceptive eyes read the trouble in my face.  “Celia?”

“Celia.”

“You’d better come in.”

While she made me coffee, I told her all about my confrontation with Celia.

“Sounds as though you managed to get rid of her, though,” she said as she placed my steaming mug before me on the scrubbed kitchen table.

“But not for long, Ruth.  I made a lot of threats, and they have some substance to them.  As my agent, she’s contractually bound not to compromise my interests.  I could make a lot of trouble for her if she did.  I could sue her for very substantial damages, and she’d never work again in the book trade.  But she’d a devious and resourceful bitch, and she has friends of the same type.  Next thing you know, some grubby reporter will be skulking around after dark taking pictures through windows.  Celia will find an indirect way of making her point and her dirty money, and I won’t be able to stop her.”

“And you say she’s coming back in a fortnight?”

“So she says.  I’ve promised her a story.  I’m pretty sure she’ll be back for it, though I’ll fancy she’s come a day or two late, to rattle me, then try to start horse trading again.”

“But I thought you’d reached an agreement.”

I laughed.  “Celia’s agreements are like European Union referenda.  She keeps revisiting and revising them until she get’s the result she wants.  Once that happens the subject is closed for ever.  Still,” I added more soberly.  “On this occasion I can’t criticise because the sole purpose of my bargain was to stall her.  I’ve no intention of keeping to it either.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to stop her, by fair means or foul.”

“How?”

“That’s why I’m talking to you.”

“Owen, we’re not all stupid,” said Ruth a little later, as we walked along the rain-sodden bridle path towards The Seven Stripes.  All the leaves were gone now, it would be Christmas soon, and I wondered what Nether Slype would be like in the snow come January and February.  “The villages cannot stay as they are forever.  Some are already saying that we must moderate, before there’s a terrible commotion and drastic change is forced on us.”

I snorted.  She didn’t know the half of it.  “Along with prosecutions, mass counselling, mental health workers crawling over you like lice, single-issue storm troopers manning every street corner, and God knows what else?  If Celia can’t be stopped, you’ll have all that and plenty more besides coming down on you from a great height before the year’s out.  Then the moneymen will take over and turn the three villages into a theme park.  A rural counterpart of the London Dungeon where we’ll all be portrayed in wax effigy, wielding thumbscrews, branding irons, and whips.  Even before that happens, we’ll be on the front pages of every newspaper in the land for months.  There will be books, television documentaries, even a shoddy drama or two, assuming Hollywood doesn’t buy up the right first.

“The villages will be overrun with sightseers and sex tourists.  Every third-rate politician and has-been celebrity will have to be photographed in front of The Seven Stripes looking suitably aghast.  All the children will be taken into care, and the adults who escape prison will find themselves performing seals in a tawdry zoo.  We’ll all be caricatured on mugs, tee shirts, mouse mats, ball pens and Christ knows what other trash.  You’ve no idea what a dirty, squalid, money-grubbing thing the public outrage is out there beyond the three villages.   And if you dig down through all the ordure, you’ll find Celia at the bottom of it.”

Ruth’s eyes were bright with horror.  She was an intelligent woman and she clearly had some idea of what the world was like outside the three villages, but even she hadn’t grasped the full grotesque hypocrisy of modern moral Puritanism.   “Surely it won’t be quite as bad as that!”

“Worse, Ruth.  Much, much worse.”

“So,” she said after a pause.  “You’ll have to steel yourself, my dear.”

I swallowed; I wasn’t quite sure what she was suggesting, but it sounded bloody ominous.  She took my arm and stroked it gently while she spoke.

“I’ll give you all the help and support I can, though I don’t know how much use it will be.  But you have no option.  You’ll have to go to Griselda Shackles.  You’ll have to tell her everything.”

I was sweating now.  “And what will she do?”

“To you?  That depends if the rumours are right.  They say she’s in love with you.”

I snorted.  “I think she likes to play a game of being in love with me,” and yet I knew that that wasn’t true.  Somewhere within her fanciful and bizarre mind, I was sure Griselda really did think she loved me.  But she’d also told me that she would put duty first.

“I hope it’s more than that.”  Ruth squeezed my arm more tightly.  “Throw yourself on her mercy.  Tell her you’re on her side.”

“And Celia?”

“I’m sure Lady Shackles can handle her. There have been other occurrences, you see.  Not many, but I can remember a handful of disappearances.”

I too remembered.  I remembered Griselda using the term sent away.  Flavius was going to be sent away, and I distinctly recalled her saying, you wouldn’t want to be sent away would you!  And I wouldn’t want to see you go.  But sent away where?  I had asked her but, as usual, she had adroitly sidestepped the question, and that sent a trickle of fear down my spine.

“Were they all sent away, Ruth?” I asked.  “The other disappearances?  Were they sent away?”

She sighed.  “That’s the term I’ve heard used.  Whispered.  No one talks of it openly.”

“Is there fear here?  Are people here afraid of being sent away?”

She put her head on one side and cogitated awhile.  “I wouldn’t say afraid.  We’re aware that we have to behave ourselves.  But so does everyone  — outside too, I imagine.”

Oh yes.  Heaven help anyone outside who spoke or wrote a word that might be construed, however incorrectly as sexist, or racist.  They could be persecuted, their careers ruined, for the slightest breach.  But they weren’t sent away, though many might have preferred to be.

Ruth was right.  I knew that despite the retribution that might lie in store for me, I would have to go and confess everything to Griselda.  She had already made the threat.  The question was: would she carry it out?  It would be bad enough to leave this place, strange as it was, and return to the grey puritanical world, but I feared that being sent away meant something much worse.

“Do they ever come back, Ruth?”  I asked.  “The ones who’ve been sent away?”

Her large dark eyes found mine, and they melted.  “No.  Never.”

She hugged kissed me when she left me to go into The Seven Stripes.  She had asked me if I wanted to her come with me, to hold my hand, but that would compromise us both, so I refused point blank.  I wanted to keep her out of it if I could.  Her eyes melted over me again, as though I were a soldier going of to war, and we might be parting for the last time.  I had seen newsreels of such partings, and now I knew what they felt like — the soldier going to the front; the woman waving and smiling bravely while tears flooded down her face.  I turned and started to retrace my steps home with heavy heart, meaning to collect my thoughts and my words before making my way up to the hall.

*****

“Owen!”

I turned, and to my surprise, I saw Griselda on Phallus, following me down the bridle path.  Her smile was sunny and she slowed to a walk when she drew level.  Clearly, she hadn’t seen me with Ruth.

“Sorry, but I couldn’t shout out darling, in case someone heard,” she said in a stage whisper, leaning down towards me from the high saddle.  “But I shall soon, shan’t I?”

She hugged herself eagerly and giggled at the thought while I tried to raise a smile, and miserably failed.  Then her brows creased a moment and she jumped down.

“Anything the matter, darling?” she enquired, looking right and left before taking my arm.  “You look so glum.”

I stirred dead leaves with my toe.  “Well . . . .”

Her look of concern deepened.  “Don’t tell me you didn’t like my present!”

“I liked it very much,” I mumbled, trying to persuade myself that it was the thought that counted, and I had to admit to myself that I’d enjoyed whipping Heather, and shagging her afterwards, though Ruth was still more to my taste.  But my eyes were sliding over Griselda now, over her large heaving bust that was pushing open the neck of her hacking jacket, her finely developed horsewoman’s bottom, even the two teeth slightly overhanging her pouting lower lip.  I fancied her much more than I ever had before. I didn’t just want to whip her fine muscular bottom and make it wriggle.  I didn’t just want to shag her, take charge of her, and master her.  There was more to it than that.  For, eccentric as she undoubtedly was, I realised that compared with all the Celias of the world, and even the Heathers, she was a treasure.  I realised that however screwy she was, she was real, and genuine in her affections, she believed what she said, no matter how strangely she expressed it.

“And you won’t fall in love with the girl, will you!” she warned me archly.  “Because I’ll be very cross if you do.  She’s meant for your relaxation, nothing more.”

“What?  Heather?  No!  I’ve always preferred the more mature woman myself.”

“Really?”  She put her hand on her heart and gasped.  “You haven’t gone off me then?  I’d die if you went off me.  Really I would.”

“No, Griselda.  I haven’t gone off you,” I said, wondering why a woman so desperate to win my affection should send me another as a casual gift.  And how would her affection weather the tale I had to tell her.  Would love conquer all, or would she, like so many of the old school she was a relict of, put duty before all, as she had already indicated she would?  Now that I had reached my Rubicon, and I stood on the brink of perhaps losing everything, my freedom, perhaps even my life, my desire to get inside Griselda’s knickers overwhelmed me.

It occurred to me that one way out of my problem would be to master her, dominate her utterly, and dictate terms, as perhaps only I, her chosen lover, could.  Yet I knew there was no certainty of succeeding.  Hidden beneath that gushing, goofy surface was steel.  This was the woman who’d incarcerated her husband, for God’s sake.  This was the woman who had thrashed Ginny, the woman who sent people away.  I was still unclear as to precisely what that meant, but reason told me that it wasn’t pleasant.

“What then, darling?” she was asking, her eyes bright and watery with concern.  “Look.  I’m sorry I whipped your girl, but I was so cross.  Please forgive me.”  She glanced right and left again, and popped a wet kiss onto the tip of my nose.  “Please?”

It tickled and I almost laughed, despite myself.  After all, how could I criticise her for whipping Ginny?  Hadn’t I whipped Heather in the same fashion, because I too was angry?  That was where Nether Slype was different.  The people there weren’t monsters, or deviants.  They were just allowed to follow inclinations that so many outside shared, but were obliged to deny.

“Something’s the matter,” Griselda was saying, hugging me close.  “It doesn’t matter.  You can tell me.  I do love you, you know.  Really I do.”

How could she?  How could she truly love me?  And yet . . . .  “Can I come up to the hall later, and we’ll talk?” I asked hesitantly.

“Of course you can, darling.”  Something of her old coquettishness glimmered through the anxiety; she brushed my lapel with her hands.  “But you must promise to behave yourself and not take advantage of me.  Remember, we’re not married yet.”

Nor ever will be, I thought, unless you really do love me, and can forgive my grievous fault.  For the first time I prayed that she did love me.

*****

“Look, Griselda,” I said later, when we were ensconced on the sofa in her office, before a roaring fire.  This was the room where I had first met her, first masqueraded before her as Owen Flaythm, and a small voice told me — I don’t know why — that she had decided that we would talk here, rather than in her drawing room, for a reason.

I looked down at my hands and they trembled.  “I’m afraid I have a terrible confession to make, and a warning to give you.”

“Make your confession first, darling,” she said, sliding close and threading her hand through my arm.  “That way, I can forgive you first, and then you can warn me about whatever it is you want to warn me about.”  She smiled eagerly.  “So why don’t you make your confession?  After all, I already know what it is . . . Owen.  Or should I say, Peter?”

My mouth fell open and I stared at her like a loon.

“I knew you were an imposter from the outset,” she said still sitting close, with her hand threaded confidingly through my arm.  “The council didn’t.  They were just unsure, so they insisted that they keep an eye on you for a while.  That wasn’t my doing, but entirely theirs.  But I knew for sure that you weren’t Owen Flaythm, though I never said so, and I always trusted you.”

I looked at her and blinked.  Had she built a charade of love to counter my charade?  But why?

“How did you know?” I asked, dry mouthed.

“Oh, easy.  For a start, you looked nothing like any of your alleged Flaythm ancestors — we have whole corridors of portraits here — though you might have taken after your mother, of course.

“But you also answered the description of a man who enquired of Gripes, my land agent, if he might buy a cottage.  Gripes is a miserable cuss who knows how to keep the inquisitive away, but this man was uniquely insistent and asked for Lord Shackles’ address.  You might not remember, but when Gripes asked you if you had any family here, you replied with an emphatic No.”

I didn’t know where to put my face.  I couldn’t recall the estate agent asking the question, but I had no doubt that he had done so.

Griselda squeezed my hand.  “Then, low and behold, a few weeks later, up popped Owen Flaythm, either the man who’d made the earlier enquiry, or his double.”

I smiled sheepishly.  I had thought I was so clever, fooling her.

“Then, of course,” she added gently, “there was your mistake over Captain Rickett Flaythm.”  She giggled and popped a kiss on my burning neck.  “That was my little trick, I’m afraid.  You see, the admirable captain never held Admiral Shackles’ coat, but was in irons for opposing the admiral’s use of the patent flogger.  As captain of the ship, he was within his rights too.  At the subsequent court martial, he was exonerated, and the admiral was cashiered in disgrace.  It took fifty years for the bad feeling between the Shackles and the Flaythms to heal.  A Flaythm, who’d heard his family history from his grandfather, would have known that.”

“Not necessarily,” I countered weakly.

She merely snorted at the idea and jumped up.  She was a magnificently athletic woman, I noticed.

“Do you want to know what a Flaythm looks like?” she asked.

I was in a maze.  “What?”

She swept her arm round, indicating the rows of chinless ancestors all round the walls.

My mouth fell open.  “But they’re yours.”

“So they are, but they’d have been yours too.  You see, after the Rickett Flaythm incident the families fell out, so badly that they couldn’t meet without cutting each other dead.  And so it persisted until my great-great-great-grandfather Beowulf Shackles married Ernestina Flaythm in 1851.  So, you see, my darling, that it is I who has the Flaythm chin, the Flaythm nose, the Flaythm deep upper lip.”

“And could grow a magnificent moustache,” I murmured absently up at Admiral Shackles and his monstrous pile of steak tartare, hanging above me on the wainscot.  “What about him?  Do you really admire him so much?”

“Ah!”  She flung herself down next to me again and started stroking my inner thigh.  “You see, being a descendant of both Admiral Shackles and Captain Flaythm, I can take a disinterested stance.  I am not partisan, but I have to confess that I greatly respect the captain’s courage.  I admire courage above all things, Owen.”

“And the Admiralty’s spinelessness?”

She laughed.  “Your face was a picture when I extolled the virtues of the patent flogger.  I almost gave myself away. “

“But you’re not averse to whips, Griselda,” I countered carefully.

“Perhaps not, but I’ve never flogged anyone to death, nor would I.  But consider: If every captain had been as ruthless as Admiral Shackles had, there would have been no navy left within a very short while.  No one to work the ships, at least. “

“So why do you keep the picture by your desk, and that awful flogger?”

“To remind me of the price of excess.  Drastic measures are sometimes necessary and one should not baulk employing them when they are.  That’s a lesson so many outside have forgotten: pragmatism before all.”

I looked at her anew.  Even her horsiness and goofiness was part of the old England I had sought to recapture.  And with it came the old pragmatism.  They hanged and flogged in old England, but within the bounds of pragmatism.

“As if reading my thoughts, she added.  “We do what we must, my darling, but only what we must.”

“Including thrashing wives and whipping girls like Ginny and Heather?” I asked, for her justifications did not seem to entirely stack up.

“Nothing is without its price.  There are greater evils outside than here.  We have had no murder for two hundred years, no suicide for three hundred, no muggings or burglaries.  We have no loneliness or despair, no alcoholics or drug addicts, very few broken families, no homeless children, no unemployment, and our old people are well looked after within their families and the greater community family.  We have our quirks, our faults, and many outside would consider us dangerously odd.  We practise the old disciplines, perhaps to excess.  Life here is far from perfect, but it has great blessings too.  And if we gave up the quirks, and the occasional injustices, I fear we would lose the blessings with them.  That is my fear and my justification.”

We sat together in companionable silence for a couple of minutes.  She had stopped groping my thigh now, and we were holding hands.  I felt closer to her for that.

“Did I make any other mistakes?” I asked at last.

She shrugged.  “Not a mistake exactly, but once I knew you were Rupert Butler, I checked up on him and found that his real name was Peter Jenkins, published by Littlegood through his agents Merridew and Trollope.  He’s been resident in the UK all his life, and he’s very reclusive, but his few shadowy public-domain photographs bear a startling resemblance to you, my darling.”

Indeed, telling her I was Rupert Butler had been a mistake, but the big question remained.  “Then why did you allow me to come?  Why didn’t you just send me away?”

“Oh, that’s easy.”  She smiled directly into my startled eyes and blushed.  “Because I fell in love with you at first sight, silly.  Chemistry.  At least, that’s what they call it.  I knew you didn’t love me, of course — how could you?  But I hoped you might grow to.  And I believed your reasons for wanting to live here were deep and genuine.  At least the man who’d visited Gripes seemed desperate to live here.

“I knew you might be dangerous, but I was prepared to take the risk.  I behaved foolishly when we first met.  I’m a terribly frustrated woman, you see, and you drove me right over the edge — I couldn’t contain myself.  Were I a beautiful woman, you’d have lapped it up.  I’m not, so I kept my distance for a while, hoping to start again, more sensibly.  But every time I met you, I lost control again.  I kept reverting to an oversexed teenage girl.  You press my button, Owen, like no one else ever has.”

“Peter.  My name’s Peter.”

She emphatically shook her head.  “No!  It’s Owen.  You are Owen Flaythm now, and will be for so long as you behave yourself and remain.”  She hugged me more closely.  “That’s not my threat, my dear.  I don’t make the rules here, though I have influence.  The council makes them.  A few years ago, I had hoped that a new generation of councillors might realise that we had to moderate our lifestyle here, that we couldn’t go on as we do forever without consequences.  But the reverse has happened.  They’ve dug their heads into the sand as small minds do when threatened with inevitability.  They’ve even reversed some of the moderating decisions their fathers made.  So I need allies, Owen.  I need allies if we’re going to salvage anything here.”

She looked deeply into my eyes, and I saw she was pleading.  “But that’s not the only reason I want you to stay.  I’m desperately in love with you.  I know you’re not in love with me but—”

“I’m becoming very fond of you, Griselda

“You don’t have to say that.”

“I know, but . . . .”

I had meant to play up to her, make preposterous overture to her on the mistaken assumption that she was essentially silly and believed her own nonsense.  But I now realised that would be a mistake.  Griselda was no one’s fool, and moreover, I realised that I liked her, despite her violent streak and her love of whips.  And the better I knew her the more I liked her.  I would miss Ruth if I went away, but for some strange unfathomable reason, I would miss Griselda more.  But I knew I would have to be honest with her and not overplay my hand, the hand that was now stealing its way round her shoulder and drawing her closer.

“You’re a one-off, Griselda,” I said.  “I’ve known a lot of women and I’ve bedded a fair number — and some very attractive ones at that.  But I’ve never met one quite like you.  Added to which, you have a magnificent bust.”

She kissed my ear and giggled.  “That was honest at least. Would you like to feel it?”

“Feel what?”

“My magnificent bust.  I know you’ve always liked it.  You ogled it when we first met.  But you can only put your hand inside my blouse.  You’ll have to give me greater assurances before you get inside my bra?”

“What about your knickers?”

“Greater assurances still.  I’m prepared to give you everything I have, my darling — but not for nothing.  You won’t get a one night stand out of me.”

“You’re a sensible and intelligent woman too,” I said unbuttoning her blouse and sliding my hand across her bra cup until I found her nipple and rolled it between finger and thumb.

“So,” she said, purring as her nipple hardened, and stroking my inner thigh so that I hardened too.  “What’s this warning you have to give me?”

I told Griselda all about Celia.  Every detail.  At the outset, I tried to play down Ruth’s part in it, but it soon became clear that Griselda believed Ruth had handled the situation well.  We agreed to meet again several days hence, the three of us, and formulate a plan.  It was clear that we would have to ambush and apprehend Celia.  It was also clear that we would have to find out whom else she might have apprised of her fraud, and where she might have concealed evidence.

“Once we know,” said Griselda crisply, “we have agencies who can deal with it.”

“The same agencies that take people away?”

She looked away.  “Their close cousins, at least.”

“And where do they go, Griselda?  The people who are sent away?”

She shrugged, and immediately, I felt a distance grow between us.  “Far away,” she said at last. “Where no one will ever find them.  I don’t know on an instance-by-instance basis — I’d rather not.  Even Flavius has his price, you know.  You’ve no idea how much some Arabs will pay for an English milord — even a limp-pricked wonder like Flavius.  I’ve wanted to be rid of him for years.  All I need is an excuse to be rid of him, and this Celia might provide the expedient I’ve been looking for.  I wouldn’t want to give them the real reason why he so disgusts me.”

“Which is?”

She pulled a face.  “It’s too disgusting for words.”

“Go on.  I assume it has something to do with the girls you send down there.”

“Yes but it’s not what you think.  He doesn’t whip them.  That’s just talk.    Flavius likes urine and scat, dear.  He likes to use the girls as his toilet, and when he’s suitably anointed them, and smeared it all over them, he likes them to fellate him.  It’s the only thing that gives him an erection, you see.  On our first night be told me his requirements.  I refused.  So he whipped me, tied me spread-eagled on the bed, and used me as his lavatory.  That gave him an erection, which he promptly stuck down my throat — all twelve inches of it — and almost asphyxiated me.  He went to the dungeon next morning, and he’s stayed there ever since.”

My stomach churned.  “And is that what he does to the girls?”

“Not quite.  He’s chained.  He can’t overpower them or ram his thing down their throats as he did to me.  We have a few girls who aren’t too fussy what he smears on them, and they’re happy to suck him off provided they’re well paid — and I do pay them well.  But Flavius is an animal.  I’m desperate to be shot of him.”

I could see her point of view.

She warned me that extracting the information from Celia might prove unpleasant — and I knew that unpleasant by Nether Slype standards would be very unpleasant indeed — but she claimed there was no choice in the matter and I couldn’t demur.  I knew what she meant.  I knew that the methods used to extract information would be extreme if Celia didn’t cooperate.  But I had few qualms about that.  Celia was prepared to destroy any number for her dirty money, besides, I’ve always believed that whatever comeuppance blackmailers, extortionists and their like receive, is their just deserts.  Even so, Celia’s punishment, when it came, was draconian by any standard.

1. Celia’s ordeal

I threw myself into my work, but the calendar was always in the corner of my eye.  The days dragged but, even so, the fortnight gradually ran its inevitable course.

But Celia didn’t come to my door when the time had finally expired.  The days dripped past, like a slow irritating tap: fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, and I began to wonder if she would come at all.  I hoped that she had maybe decided to shelve her money-spinner, but I wasn’t sanguine about that.  More likely she’d found some other way and even now she was out there in the dark, with a new accomplice, probably some shabby reporter, photographing, making notes.  We had men staked out in the woods all round the village, more men at both ends of my lane, and others round the back in the footpath and the bridle path, but the type of creature Celia would use would have a nose for that sort of surveillance.  I wondered whether we shouldn’t simply have placed men in the house to apprehend her when she arrived, assuming she did come.  It was seventeen days now.

I tried to concentrate on my work.  As we’d agreed, I left lights on in my working room only, and the curtains were slightly parted so anyone spying on the house would see me working alone.  Somehow I didn’t imagine Celia would stand out in the lane, looking in.  She would be more subtle; she would take me by surprise.

There was a harsh rapping at the front door.  I jumped up.  I had expected her to creep round the back.  When I opened it, it was to one of Griselda’s senior foresters.

“We’ve got her, Mr Flaythm, sir.  She’s on her way to the hall now.  You’re to follow.”

I took a deep breath.  It was a relief in a way, but I knew it would also be a trial.  I stuck my chin out.

“Right.  Let’s go.”

They had taken her downstairs, not to the dungeons, I was told, but to the cellars where they had a room equipped for interrogation.  We descended stone steps, and walked purposefully along a narrow, stone-walled and stone-flagged passage with heavy studded doors on either side of us.  It was like a scene from a Spanish Inquisition film I had seen years before.

The interrogation room did nothing to dispel the memory of the film.  I noticed immediately that there were some manacles attached to a wall, and several suspension chains on pulleys hung from the ceiling, though at present the ends of these were gathered neatly in wall rings.  In the centre of the room stood a large table, heavily built like a carpenter’s bench, with restraint straps fixed to the four corners.  It was December now, and a fire roared in the huge fireplace.  I noticed that several irons were thrust into the flames.  For effect surely.

As I entered, I saw Celia sitting in a chair with a heavy guard on either side of her.  Thwacks was busying himself with a decanter of sherry and some glasses.  Griselda stood by the fire, clad in boots, jodhpurs and hacking jacket, her back to Celia.  As I watched, she stooped and withdrew one of the irons.  Its tip glowed red.  She spat on it and it hissed for a brief second.

“You’ll answer our questions one way or the other,” she was saying calmly, as if in a dream.  “Be sensible and make it easy on yourself.  Once we start extracting answers, we won’t stop until we’re completely satisfied with them, and then we’ll carry on a while longer . . . just to be absolutely sure.  You won’t like that, Celia.  Really you won’t.”

Celia snorted.  “What’s this — the village pantomime?  You bumpkins really don’t think you can frighten me, do you!”

Griselda replaced the iron and walked slowly back to Celia’s chair, when she stooped over her, her hands firmly placed on its arms.  “Stupid woman!  What can I do to make you understand the gravity of your predicament?”

Celia laughed now.  She had clearly not been abused in any way — not yet.  She was in a tweed skirt and thorn proof jacket, all elegantly tailored by the look of them.  Nothing was scuffed, torn, or muddied, except for her boots.  Her makeup was unsmeared, not a hair of her head was out of place.  Perhaps they should have knocked her about a bit when they were bringing her here, I thought.  That would have stripped away some of her cockiness.

“Get over yourself you horse-faced bitch,” she laughed directly into Griselda’s face.  “I already have you for assault and false imprisonment.  I’ll sue you for every penny you’ve got.  I’ll have this crumbling dump, your poxy village, the lot and turn it into a theme park, and I’ll hire all your dumb yokels to perform for the crowds.  I’ll make millions.”

“Yes, fine,” replied Griselda wearily, standing and walking away.  “In the meantime we want the names of anyone you’ve divulged your discoveries to.  The locations of any relevant documents and photographs—”

“Go toss yourself on your dildo, horsey!”

“Complete with access passwords—”

Celia sighed.  “Oh, fuck off, you plummy cunt!”

Griselda stepped forwards, stooped, and placed her hands once more on the arms of Celia’s chair.  She leaned right forward into her prisoner, so that their faces almost touched.

“You’ve had your say, lady.  Now I’ll have mine.  We’re not interested in your career and your fortune, but only with protecting our way of life, which you have threatened for your own pecuniary ends.  Owen cautioned you not to proceed—”

“Owen!” scoffed Celia, but Griselda took no notice.

“Owen cautioned you not to proceed, but your greed was unstoppable.  You have been arrested in the act of commissioning a crime against us that we deem unforgivable.  Whatever you might think of us, we have done you no harm.”

“No,” sneered Celia — she had guts for sure.  “But what about the beaten women, the—”

“Save your sermonising for the gutter press!” scathed Griselda.  “Your pious morals run no deeper than your greasy pocket or the bubble celebrity you hoped to achieve.  You’d sell any man, woman, or child if the price was right, and we both know it, so for God’s sake don’t bore us with your infantile preaching.    You would have destroyed us for gain, paltry gain, and you leave us with no choice but to destroy you instead.   We have laws that have stood for centuries. You will be tried, but before you are, your confession will be required.  If you’re wise, you’ll write your confession now, and sign it.  If you’re a fool, you’ll try our patience and we’ll extract the confession the hard way.  I’ll give you one opportunity to answer.  Which is it to be?”

“Stupid, pony cunt!” sneered Celia.  “Go shag your fucking horse!” Then she hawked and spat in Griselda’s face.  Griselda recoiled backwards as if she’d been struck across the face.  She hovered above her prisoner for a moment, wiping away the spittle with a small lace handkerchief. Then she turned to the men and her face was stone.

“Strip her!”

I stood impotently and watched as the men do it.  They did it the easy way.  One pinioned her while the other took a large pair of what looked like sheep-shears and cut up the front of her skirt and through her belt, and then up the front of the jacket.  The skirt fell away and the jacket hung open from her shoulders.  He then ripped off her tights and knickers in two seconds, so ruthlessly that her legs left the ground.  Taking the neck of her sweater, he ripped that down over her shoulders with such force that it tore down the sternum.  Feeling inside for her bra and wrenched it out so that it snapped in the middle.  The other man pushed her forwards and pulled away the tattered remains of her jacket, sweater and bra.  Despite her frantic struggles, she was naked in less than fifteen seconds.  She tried to cover her pussy and tits with her hands, but these were pulled away and forced behind her back.

All the while, she screamed obscenities.  As a writer, I’ve always loathed the descent into verbal obscenity, not from prudishness, but because of its sheer stultifying monotony.

“You fucking cunts!” she screamed.  “You fucking, fucking, fucking, fucking cunts!  Let me go you cunts!  You fucking cunts!”  And so on and so on, though it was amusing to see how easily the veneer of urbane sophistication was stripped from Celia, along with her clothes.

“Strap her on the table!” snapped Griselda, as soon as Celia was naked.

One man seized her thrashing ankles, the other held her arms pinioned, and they swung her up onto the table.  She fought like a fury but they were far too strong for her.  One held her ankles hard down on the bench top while the other restrained her wrists with two straps that were already fastened to the wood near the corners.  Then they took an ankle each and strapped those to the bench corners too, leaving her spread-eagled.

“You can go!” said Griselda imperiously, looking away.  The men nodded towards her and obediently left, leaving Celia naked and writhing impotently on the bench top.

I noticed that her blonde pubic hair was cut in a Brazilian.  I remember being mildly surprised.  I’d assumed that she shaved it, though I hadn’t thought of it much — I’d never fancied the bitch.  Nevertheless, I couldn’t resist wandering across to the table and stroking it, not for any sexual pleasure, for I felt none, but because of the power it gave me over her helplessness.  She tried to spit at me too, but her mouth was dry.  I saw from here eyes that she was terrified now.

“How the hell are you going to get away with this you demented fucking throwbacks!” she was screaming, squirming, trying and failing again to spit in my face.  “God, I’ll sue you for this you fucking cunts.  I’ll fucking sue for fucking millions I will, you fucking cunts.”

Meanwhile, I heard a deferential cough at my elbow.

“Sherry, sir — er, before we start.”

I turned to see Thwacks at my elbow, proffering a silver tray on which stood two glasses.

I took mine and he offered the other to Griselda, who threw it back with one gulp and then stared hard at it, as though it were the useless end of a broken lifeline.  Then she looked up into my face and here own was ashen.

From outside my fiend of vision, Thwacks coughed again, not deferentially this time but insistently.  Griselda shivered and seemed momentarily paralysed.  She seemed to have shrunk, and I realised her true position here.  She was not in charge, but merely a figurehead, acting as the council expected her too, according to the laws the council had passed.  She had been acting on those laws when she took steps to apprehend and arrest Celia.  And whatever she did now, she would do under those same orders.

I gently took the empty glass from her hand and replaced it with my own full one.

“Here,” I said gently.  “Drink this too.”

She looked at the glass, and then at me once more, and I saw that she realised I understood.  It seemed to bring her back to life.

“Thanks, Owen.”

She knocked back the drink and blew.  “Carry on, Thwacks!” she barked, much as I imagined Admiral Lord Shackles would have done.  But instead of looking on, she turned abruptly away…

Thwacks laid down the tray and took a long wooden box from one of the shelves.  Carrying it across to the bench, he laid it on between Celia’s struggling feet.  He opened it and retrieved a long needle, like a knitting needle, highly burnished with a slender, tapering point.  I imagined that it was not only viciously sharp, but also incredible strong.  He walked to the head of the bench and held the thing before Celia’s horrified eyes.

“No!” she screamed.  “No!”

Her breasts were quite small, but well-shaped and firm, standing up like two conical hillocks crowned with brown autumnal trees.  With his free hand, Thwacks seized the left one by the nipple and pulled it vertically so it stretched, as you stretch a balloon before inflating it.

“Get off my tits you randy fucking cunt!” yelled Celia.

Thwacks ignored her.  With the precision and detachment of a man decanting port, he inserted the long needle into Celia’s left breast, through the aureole, just behind the nipple.  She screamed.

“AAAAAAARGH!”

While she screamed and writhed pointlessly against her restraint, I watched the punctured breast with fascination.  The skin on the nearer side of her aureole started to pucker and erupt to a blunt point.  Then, with a piercing scream from Celia, it burst and the needle emerged from it.  Celia left breast was pierced right through, now.  Still she thrashed and screamed.

“AAAAAAARGH!  AAAAAAARGH!  AAAAAAARGH!  Pull it out you sadistic fucking cunt!  AAAAAAARGH!  AAAAAAARGH!”

Thwacks ignored her utterly.  With slow deliberation, he walked round the head of the table, seized Celia’s right breast by the nipple and stretched it vertically too.  Slowly and precisely he inserted the needle through the right aureole, also just behind the nipple.  Celia was shrieking like a mad thing now, her whole body thrashing against her restraints.

Foolishly, I thought that was the end of the softening up and Griselda would now start the interrogation.  I watched her as she stood like a statue, her back to the table, her arms folded tight, as if she was cast in bronze and unable to move.  Surely, she would step forward now and start bawling questions.  But Celia’s torment was only starting.

Thwacks went back to the box.  He took out two pierced rings with wing nuts.  One he attached to the sharp end of the needle, above the tapering point, so that Celia’s punctured and quivering breasts couldn’t slip off the sharp end.  The other, I noticed, was slotted.  He snapped it onto the very centre of the needle, equidistant between the two swelling nipples and turned the wing nut, locking it tight.  Walking slowly to the wall, he freed one the suspension chains from its tether and attached the end of it to the ring at the needle’s centre.  Reaching out, he grasped a pulley rope and pulled.

Celia’s back spasmed and arched as the pulley stretched her punctured breasts skywards.

“AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRGH!”

Tethered to the corers of the bench, her spread-eagled hands and feet scrabbled desperately to gain a purchase on the smooth wooden surface.   She wasn’t screaming now; her head was thrown back, her mouth was open like a landed fish’s, her lips reaching, as if for air, and she was breathing in low moaning gasps.

Thwacks now returned to his box and withdrew another, much smaller box of black plastic with some leads and plugs attached.  He inserted a small plug into the needle’s blunt, bulbous end, and the other he plugged into the wall socket.  He snapped a switch on the black box.

I expected to see a violent, jerking reaction as electric current surged through Celia’s breasts, but there was no immediate change.  Seconds ticked by.  Celia twitched and whimpered, her back arched, her hands and feet pitifully scrabbling to relieve her mutilated breasts of their cruel tension.  Then, as I watched, the panting became more bovine, Celia’s hands and feet scrabbled ever more frantically at the wooden surface, as if for life itself, and I saw that the needle’s bright slender surface was growing dull.  Bloody hell, I thought.  It’s heating up.  Celia’s stomach muscles flexed now with a grisly gyrating rhythm, her whole abdomen rolling like an expert belly dancer, only belly dancers don’t pant and scream so.

“AAAAAAGH — AAAAAAGH — AAAAAAGH — AAAAAAGH!”

For with the heat she had found her voice again.  Much as I loathed the bitch, I had to grit my teeth to endure that terrible screaming.

Still her heels drummed on  the bench top as she strained to spread her thighs wide as she could, as if giving birth, trying desperately to bend her knees and get some purchase on the table with her feet — anything to take some weight from her stretched and burning breasts.  It seemed she couldn’t spread her legs wide enough.  She jerked her wide-open vulva into the air like a shameless, desperate whore, only whores don’t scream like that, even when they’re getting a thrashing.  But if I expected to see her breasts sizzling on the red-hot poker, I was to be disappointed for a moment.

“Switch it off!  Let her down!” snapped Griselda, jerking round, as if from a trance.

Without a single facial muscle twitching, Thwacks bowed deeply.  He walked slowly to the black box and snapped the switch, and grasping the suspension chain, he lowered Celia to the bench top, where she lay gasping and groaning.

Griselda looked down at her dispassionately, but I could see that her face was grey.

“Let her recover her breath and her wits,” she said.  “In the meantime, we’ll have another drink.  God knows I need one.”

We didn’t speak as we drank our sherry; in fact, we avoided each other’s eyes now.  I’ve since learned since that in this situation you do.  There can be no small talk in a torture chamber while the necessary work is being done, not unless you’re completely hardened to it.  Griselda wasn’t.  I could see that from her stony expression, and I noticed that her hand shook.  It was a necessary duty for her and the sherry was a comfort for her, not a ghoulish embellishment.  She had the stomach for Celia’s torture — just about, but she derived no relish from it.  I suppose, if I’m honest, I enjoyed seeing Celia squirm, at the outset at least.  How I loathed the evil bitch!  And for that reason too I couldn’t meet Griselda’s eye.  This was different from the sort of spanking and whipping that was common currency in nether Slype; this was brutal, mediaeval.  Yet from small acorns do great oak trees grow.  If you spank your wife for mowing over the cowslips, what do you do to serious and dangerous offenders?  I remembered thinking that as I watched the man in the garden, relentlessly strapping his wife’s bare and quivering bottom.  Now I was finding out.

Griselda finished her sherry and walked across to the bench like a woman in a dream.  She stood there for a moment gazing down at her victim with pity.

“Look,” she said in as reasonable a voice as she could muster, though it wobbled all the same.  “Agree to tell us what we want to know and the pain will stop.  Understand?  This can stop now if you see sense.  Refuse, and it will get worse.  Believe me, it can get a lot worse, and you will tell us in the end.  You must see that resistance is useless.  Well?”

Celia’s eyes rotated glassily, her mouth worked but no sound came.  I had no idea what was going on in her reeling mind.

“Take your time,” said Griselda.  “I don’t want to hurt you more than I must.  Just give me some sign that you will cooperate.”

Celia’s mouth worked as though trying to summon spittle, but she had none to spit.  So she clenched her teeth for a mighty effort.

“FUCKING, FUCKING, FUCKING CUNT!”

She was mad.  The torture had driven her mad.   I knew she was stubborn but this was lunacy.  Griselda turned to me, and I could see from the pain in her eyes that she wanted the torture to stop but couldn’t stop it until Celia talked.

I too stepped up to the bench and stood beside her.  “For God’s sake, Celia,” I muttered, despite myself.  “Do yourself a favour.  Talk.  Resistance is useless.”

“HORSEFUCKING CUNTS!”

I sighed; Griselda sighed and seemed to crumble.  Whatever was done to Celia now, she’d well and truly brought it on herself.

Griselda turned away, and poured her own sherry now, her back to the bench, and downed it with a noisy slurp.

“Carry on, Thwacks!” she said woodenly.

Yet if Griselda loathed what she had to do, Thwacks didn’t.  He remained every inch the butler, and his face was impassive, but I glanced at his eyes.  They glinted with relish and the tip of his tongue slicked across his dry-as-dust lips, moistening them.

“Ma’am,” he bowed.

He returned to his box and withdrew another shorter and more slender needle. Griselda and I were standing at the foot of the table and we clearly saw him reach down into Celia’s crotch, push his finger into the vulva and stroke up her clitoris.  Griselda flinched and turned away.  Celia groaned, though whether from pleasure, pain, or ghastly anticipation, I’m not sure, but she shrieked like a banshee as he took her clitoris between his fingernails and inserted the needle behind it.

“If we sell her to the Arabs, ma’am,” he observed casually.  “It will at least save them the trouble of circumcising her.”

Griselda visibly shuddered.  “For pity’s sake just do it!” she snapped.  “Get it over with!”

Thwacks remained inscrutable but his eyes glinted again.  “Ma’am.”

I knew that the bastard was loving every minute of it.  Was this why Griselda hated him so?  I watched the deliberate slowness with which he plugged the lead attached to the shorter needle into the small box, the way he lingered before seizing the pulley, stretching Celia’s breasts towards the ceiling again, and clicking the switch.

This time, we didn’t have long to wait before the terrible screaming tore the air.  As Celia writhed, her arched body twisting in mid air, the needles canted this way and that, like rowboat tossed in a storm, her elastic smouldering breasts twisted and stretched as though she was desperately trying to rip them off their slender burning shaft, and lower down her crotch gyrated and pulled at the shorter needle in the same way — anything to be rid of the agony.   Small coils of smoke started to rise, and with them the savoury smell of roasting meat.  Never before had that smell of cooking so sickened me.

While she thrashed and screamed, the needles started to glow red.  Thwacks turned to us and inquired discreetly.  “More sherry, ma’am, sir?”

Griselda flinched away from him, gritting her teeth.  “For pity’s sake!”

I too declined, but unlike Griselda’s, my eyes were riveted to the obscene contorting thing on the bench.  Celia twisted impossibly in air like a pitchforked serpent as she danced her obscene limbo dance on the bench top. She’d had screamed herself hoarse.  Now she was bellowing like a stag, but no stag ever bellowed like Celia did.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!”

“How long does this go on for?” I asked Thwacks, unable to tear my tear my eyes away from the horror.

“Until the good lady decides to be reasonable, sir,” he answered impeccably, and without emotion, as a butler ought, and he dusted a mote of dust from his black tailcoat sleeve.  “But if I may say so, sir, I don’t think she’ll inconvenience you for very much longer.”

Celia evacuated her bladder now.  Such were her contortions that the golden rain showered and fell all over the bench and the floor.  Griselda fled to a far corner of the room and I followed, but Thwacks, the fastidious butler, pulled a distressed face, set down the sherry bottle, donned pair of yellow rubber gloves, and started to mop it up with a large sponge.  The screaming became unbearable, the stench became unbearable, and every time Celia drew breath, I could hear her breasts sizzling horrible.  I felt sick.  Griselda covered her ears and sagged against the wall for support.  I put out my hand to support her but she irritably knocked it away.

“Not now, Owen!”

Meanwhile, Thwacks drew close and coughed.   We could only just hear his voice above the inhuman screaming and the hiss of burning flesh.  “Excuse my interrupting, ma’am, sir, but I think the lady is trying to tell us that she’s ready to cooperate now.”

Griselda shut her eyes with immense relief and drew her hand across her eyes.  “Yes, yes, for pity’s sake.  Switch the wretched thing off and let her down.”

“Very good, ma’am.”

The men came back in and took Celia off the table.  She hung between them like a doll, her face expressionless, as if the woman had already fled elsewhere, and only the charred throbbing flesh remained.  Her nipples and aureoles were scarred, black, and swollen right out of shape, and her crotch still quivered uncontrollably and she struggled to keep her thighs as wide as possible, for she could not bear the pain of closing her legs.

“You understand, madam,” said Thwacks a little later, after they had lashed Celia to a St Andrew’s cross, “that your ordeal so far has been contrived simply to make certain parts of your body receptive to persuasion.  For example . . . . “

He reached down between her legs.  I saw his fingers go up into her crotch as she whimpered and struggled.  Suddenly, the fingers gave a tremendous jerk.  Celia leapt against her bonds and screamed her lungs out.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!”

I felt Griselda flinch at my side, but she said nothing.  Thwacks turned to us.  “I think the lady has regained her voice and is receptive to persuasion, ma’am, sir.”

Griselda put down her riding crop and when she addressed Celia, I could see that her face was drained of colour.  “Now!  Let’s get this over with as quickly and painlessly as possible.”  She swallowed and her lips trembled.  “You know by now what we are prepared to do.  If you refuse to satisfactorily answer out questions, I shall order the men to put you back on the bench again.  So in your own best interests, cooperate.  Please cooperate.  Understood.”

Celia groaned, her hanging mouth gaped, her eyes were dead and glazed, her chest laboured, and her breasts, recently so ripe and shapely, hung limp like dead, blackened meat about her lower ribs.  She was scarcely recognisable as the cocky woman who had strutted into my house with demands two-and-a-half weeks previously.

“Now,” said Griselda briskly.  “We need the names of any other person you have told about your discoveries here.

“Peter.”  The word was only just recognisable.

“You mean Owen.”

“Yes, yes. Whatever.”  She whimpered.  “Please stop the pain.”

Griselda licked her lips.  “All in good time.  Who else?”

“No one.  Please.”

“I said, who else!”

“No one, I swear.  Please.  I swear.  Pleeeease!”

Thwacks stepped forward again.  When she saw him approaching her, Celia started to struggle against the bonds.  Griselda turned away and her face was ghastly.  Celia screamed even before Thwacks touched her, but when her reached down into her crotch, took her swollen clitoris between his finger and thumb, and squeezed, she howled like a woman possessed.

“AAAAAAAA—AAAAAAAA—AAAAAAA—AAAAARGH!”

He stepped away again.

“Who else?” asked Griselda, still looking away.

“No one.  Please, please , don’t let him hurt me again,” sobbed Celia, so pitifully that I almost felt sorry for her.  “Please.  I’ll tell you anything.  Please . . .  please . . . please . . .”

“And where have you stored the photographs?”

“In my car, on my laptop.  Nowhere else.  Please believe me.  Please.  Please!  Pleeeease!”

She howled and leapt again as Thwacks’ fingers went to work once more on her swollen clitoris.

“PLEEEEASE!  PLEEEEASE!  PLEEEEASE!”

Thwacks’ fingers went to work again.

“Where else?”

“Nowhere.  PLEEEEASE!  PLEEEEASE!  PLEEEEASE!”

“Where on your Internet backup?”

“Nowhere.  OH PLEEEEASE!”

“On which flash drive?”

“None.  PLEEEEASE!”

Thwacks was still pinching and manipulating her clitoris, clearly enjoying it, though like all true sadists, he looked ever regretful, thought I noticed how he lingered at his work.  Celia thrashed, pleaded, and screamed incessantly.

“AAAAARGH. No. Pleeeease.  I’ve told you everything!  PLEEEEASE.”

“Perhaps,” said Griselda patiently.  “Let’s just go through it again to make sure you haven’t forgotten anything.

Celia’s face hung grey and haggard.  She shuddered and her hips began to eave in a grisly rotating dance as Thwacks’ fingers delved back into her crotch.

“PLEEEASE.  No!  PLEEEASE!”  she whimpered.  “Not more.  No more.  I can’t stand any more.  PLEEEASE! “

The merciless fingers jerked and pinched.  Celia leapt and bellowed her lungs out.

“PLEEEEASE!  PLEEEEASE!  PLEEEEASE!  I’ve told you everything!  Mercy!   MERCY!  Pleeeease, I beg you!”  And her voice trailed away to a sob.

Griselda turned enquiringly to me.  Her face was as grey as Celia’s.  I too must have looked shaky.  I felt sick, and my legs trembled.  Griselda and I stared at each other like cold ashes.

“Well, Owen?”

“She’d tell us if she knew,” I whispered hoarsely.

“I agree.”

“I know she’s telling the truth,” I said, not because I felt for Celia, but because I believed it to be so.  “She cares for no one; she’d hold out for no one.  And she’d have kept her little scam to herself for as long as possible, hoping to maximise the proceeds.  It’s the way the bitch works.”

“Well,” Griselda demanded of the grey haggard wretch on the cross, for that’s all she was now.  “Have you told us everything?”

Thwacks’ eager fingers delved again.

“Yes, yes, YES.  Oh, for God’s sake!  Pleeeease stop the terrible pain!  MERCY!  PLEEEASE!”

Griselda considered for a moment and then nodded at no one in particular.  She turned to Thwacks.  “It’s finished!”

But Thwacks’ fingers still hovered close to Celia’s crotch.  I saw the spasm of disappointment flicker across his rigid countenance.  The fingers twitched and moved minutely back towards Celia.  Griselda snatched up her riding crop, stamped across, and cut him viciously across the wrist.  He yelped and sprang back, nursing his injured wrist and glaring fury like a cornered beast.

“Are you deaf?” Griselda screamed at him, and her face was terrible to behold.  “I told you it was over.  Clean her up!  Give her something for the pain!  Call the council for tomorrow morning!  Move yourself!”

Thwacks fought to control himself.  His visible anger flickered, and then slowly faded behind his inscrutable countenance.  He bowed stiffly.  “Very good ma’am.”

*****

The woodsman drove me back home in the Land Rover.  He’d been one of those who had stripped Celia, and strapped her to the bench and the St Andrew’s cross.  We said nothing on the way to the village.  Such procedures breed reticence.  I studied him.  He looked an ordinary and decent enough type.  I had always supposed I was too.  Imperative breeds brutality.

1. Trial and retribution

He picked me up again and drove me back to Nether Towers next morning. I had noticed how quiet Ginny was at breakfast.  She usually prattled, sometimes irritatingly so, but that morning she was as quiet as a mouse.  I noticed how heads turned and stares followed us as we drove round the green and took the hill road to the Towers.   It seemed that everyone knew something terrible was happening, though not what and why, but terrible all the same.  Even inside the Land Rover, I could feel the atmosphere.

The tribunal was held in the mansion’s great hall.  It was a harsh affair and I wondered why they bothered with it.  But people seem to feel better when the ceremony of law is observed, no matter how bizarrely.  In the event, horror descended into farce, and I’ve sometimes wondered since if the farce was, in its way, worse than the horror.

The council of ten sat across the bench.  According to the rule, if their decision was hung, Griselda would decide the outcome, but that wouldn’t happen today as Ned Grackley had died the previous month and not yet been replaced, so there were only nine of them.

The chairman read the charge.  The prisoner wasn’t asked to plead because guilt was assumed.  Like all English trials back in the seventeenth century and earlier, it was merely a demonstration of guilt, not an enquiry into it.  Celia was asked to affirm her confession of the night before.  She was still naked and would remain naked now until she left Nether Slype.  This was symbolic and deeply traditional, though to me unnecessary.  But to the Nether Slypers, she was no longer a person, and as such, she possessed nothing, not even a stitch of clothing. She would take nothing away with her, least of all dignity, so not even the smallest pair of knickers was required protect the modesty she could no longer possess.

But Celia cared no longer for modesty or dignity, even if she had been allowed any.  She dangled before the council, her face grey and haggard like an old woman’s, a man holding her up on either side, her private parts exposed for inspection.  Everyone could see the punctures near the swollen, blistered, blue-black tips of her abused breasts, and you didn’t have to look hard to see the scorch marks in her pubic hair, or where her mutilated and distended clitoris poked out like a bloody chancre between the misshapen lips of her pudenda.  And, of course, she couldn’t close her legs.  The way her guards held her, shoulders back, they splayed apart and her whole crotch was displayed to casual view, as if she was offering her tortured sex to the council for their pleasure.

But these clear marks of excruciating torture earned her no pity.

“The prisoner will stand forward!”

Her two guards jerked her forwards, her mutilated breasts swung against each other and she gasped.

“The prisoner will affirm that her confession was freely and frankly given.”

Celia seemed not to hear what she was told; she was in a daze or another world entirely.  She hung between her guards like damp washing, open mouthed, dead eyed, and uncomprehending.

Thwacks stepped up to her.  “The word is yes, madam.”

Her eyes rotated towards him her mouth lolled.  “Wha?”  She couldn’t even articulate the word.

“You say yes to the judges, madam.”

“Wha?  No . . . I . . . thy . . . .”

Thwacks turned to the bench and coughed apologetically.  The nine councillors gazed intently at their table top while he gently took hold of the tips Celia’s mutilated breasts and started rubbing her nipples with his thumbs.  She gasped and gurgled, her body twitching, but in a half-hearted sort of way, her head lolling back as she struggled pointlessly against the men holding her, who also looked away.

“The word we’re looking for is yes, madam.”

“Wha?  No  . . .  I—”

Thwacks viciously twisted the blue-back swellings.  Celia’s legs thrashed in the air and she screamed a jagged, blood-chilling scream.

“AAAAAAAARGH!  YES!  YES!  YES!”

“The record will state that the prisoner confessed of her own free will,” said the chairman, white faced, but otherwise unmoved as he stared hard at his fingernails.  “And without undue duress.”  He swallowed and turned obsequiously to Griselda.  “I believe, your ladyship, that you have evidence to give?”

Griselda took a deep breath and rose. “Only insofar as it links the woman to the man.  Her guilt is plain.”

The chairman simpered.  “As your ladyship says.” He turned to the court and bellowed.  “Bring the man forward.”

I noted that the council never used the prisoners’ names, I supposed this was because the prisoners, no longer being recognised as people, had none.  This was the most refined indignity.

Meanwhile, the man who had been Flavius was dragged forward also naked.  I had never seen him before and he appeared much older than I expected, though that might have been the result of madness and years in a dungeon.  He was short and grey haired, with a distended paunch and a flaccid penis that hung down to his knees.  His lower lip drooped like a simpleton’s.

“Has the man confessed?”

Thwacks stepped forward again, lifted Flavius’s penis revealing a distended but very full testicle sack.  Taking hold of the testicles in his hand, he jerked and squeezed.  Flavius jolted, his eyes popped, and he shrieked like a woman.

“It sounded to like yes to me, sir,” commented Thwacks with impeccable gravity.

“I heard it quite distinctly,” agreed the chairman, staring hard at the tabletop in front of him. “The record will state that the prisoner confessed of his own free will, without undue duress.”  He then turned obsequiously to Griselda.  “In your own time, your ladyship.”

Griselda rehearsed the story she, Ruth, and I had concocted, though I’m being overmodest putting it like that.  Primarily, it was my tale.

She said that Celia was a freelance reporter — the confession she’d signed with an unrecognisable squiggle said as much — hoping to sell a story about Nether Slype to the Sunday press.  We’d recovered pictures from her laptop, left in her car a mile back up the lane from the village.  These we showed to the council as ‘proof’ of the allegation.

Somehow — we weren’t sure how, perhaps through his family — she had discovered, or suspected, that Griselda’s husband was being kept under restraint at the Towers.  Her proposed coup was not only to publish her scurrilous account, but to produce Flavius as living proof.  The two had conferred and agreed to this, their confessions confirmed it.

“But, excuse me, you ladyship,” queried the chairman deferentially.  “How did they do this?  My understanding is that your husband has been incarcerated in the dungeons for years, on account of his — er — dangerous propensities.”

“She knew the times when Thwacks and I would be out and about the estates,” lied Griselda with remarkable steadiness.  “And when there are few servants left in and around the Towers.  It was not difficult for her to gain access, hide in one of the unused rooms, and make her way down to the dungeons when the coast was clear.”

“You must improve your security, your ladyship,” simpered the chairman, wagging an indulgent finger at her.

Griselda bridled at his insolence, and then fought to calm herself.  “It’s already in hand,” she said neutrally.  “Meanwhile, we have learned how the woman knew so much about us and our movements.”

“How, your ladyship?”

I stepped forward now and slapped down on the bench a component I had removed from an old laptop of my own the night before.

“Phone bug,” I said.

They all looked at it amazed.  Clearly, none of them had seen one before, which was as well.

“I had suspected as much,” I said blandly.  “My family used to mine diamonds in South Africa.  At one time, there were attempts to intercept our randomly timed and routed shipments.  We called the police, they checked security, and found bugs attached to several of our own phones.  They looked remarkably like this.”

It was the merest moonshine, but it convinced the council, as it was intended to.  The logic was simple: if a bug was there, it was there for a reason and a purpose.  This was obviously the purpose alleged because no other was known.  Therefore the allegation was proved.

Ruth gave the fiction further substance with a slightly revised version of Celia’s arrival at the pub.

“She started asking me questions about her ladyship’s husband, and Mr Flaythm.”

“And what did you do?” asked the chairman.

“Gave non-committal answers and immediately informed Mr Flaythm.”

“And I immediately informed her ladyship,” I said.  “We expected the woman to return, so we deployed men to trap her.  We had a couple of near misses.  She was seen lurking near here watching the Towers one Sunday morning when her ladyship and most of her staff were at church in the village.  I thought I saw her on another occasion, lurking near my house when I arrived home.  But on those occasions both I and the man who spotted her prowling round the Towers hung back.  Neither of us was in a position to make a clean capture, and a bungled attempt might have scared her off and caused her to make some precipitate disclosure to the press.”

“You both behaved very wisely,” said the chairman, and the rest of the council rumbled agreement.

“However, yesterday we managed to make a clean capture.”

“We are in your debt,” said the chairman.  “Indeed, we’re obliged to everyone involved.”

“Hear!  Hear!” cheered the other councillors.

The case for the prosecution was complete — there was no defence.  The councillors huddled for only a few perfunctory seconds before reaching their verdict.

“We find the case against both prisoners proved beyond question,” said the chairman.  “Their confessions are proof alone, and these have been corroborated by the three witnesses, and this nasty little gadget.”  He pointed gingerly at my laptop component.   “We assume that when the female prisoner was loitering round your house, Mr Flaythm, that she intended to place another device in your own phone.”

I’d never thought of that, but I wasn’t going to admit it.  “That was my suspicion too, Mr Chairman.  I’ve checked my phone and it’s clean, as are all the phones here at the Towers, which have also been checked.”

“Much obliged for your thoroughness, Mr Flaythm.  The sentence of the court is the both prisoners be banished, having each first received one-hundred lashes at the public whipping post.”

“Mr Chairman!”  Griselda jumped up.  “I plead we dispense with the public lashing, given the identity of the male prisoner.”

The council huddled again.

“Agreed.  We have no wish to embarrass your ladyship.  The sentence is banishment.  Your ladyship has our leave to make the appropriate arrangements.”

“And my marriage, Mr Chairman?”

“Dissolved as an inevitable consequence, your ladyship.  Your quondam husband no longer exists as far as this community is concerned.  It shall be cried throughout the three villages.”

Griselda bowed.  “I’m obliged to the council.”

“I hope that never happens again,” said Griselda, as we walked through the December woods above the Towers, for we both needed fresh air.  “I know it’s theatrical but it’s the way they like it.”

“Not good enough, Griselda,” I countered.  “We must make sure that it doesn’t.”

“But how do we do that?”

“We just do it.  The trial was a farce.”

“Complaining?”

“No.  I can’t exactly do that, but—”

“It’s the way it’s always been done here, darling.  And you cannot always save just part of the thing you cherish.  You must take it whole or leave it whole.”

“Meaning?”

“Well, you say you came here because you loved the place — part of an old England you thought dead.  But can we save that without also perpetuating what we’ve just attended?  That was the Old-England way too.  Remember?  They tortured people, their executions were horrible; hunger, want, injustice, brutality, and horrible prejudices were all rife in this never-never England you wanted to rediscover and live in.  My father and my grandfather knew that if you want to preserve part, you must preserve all.  We have a choice they said.  Perpetuate it all for as long as we can, or lose all.  An environment is not an a-la-carte menu, my father would say.  You can’t choose to keep the bits you want and jettison the bits you don’t.”

“So we must either keep the torture and the trials, or we loose everything?”

“I think we have to, don’t you?” she asked soberly.  “Loose it, I mean?”

“Yes,” I agreed.  “It’s too high a price to pay.  But we’ll do it on our terms.  Perhaps we can save something, and this place will still be special.”

“We?”

“Well,” I said more gruffly than I meant.  “You can marry me now — if you still want to.”

She slipped her arm back through mine.  “You still want to marry me, after what I did?”

“What we did.  And what we’ll never do again.”

1. Aftermath

But we didn’t marry straight away.  After the interrogation and the trial, an embarrassed coolness developed between Griselda and me.  She invited me up Nether Towers for Christmas and I went, but there was none of the old canoodling in corners.  I found that I missed it.  I missed it a lot.  I missed it more in February when Ruth let me know that she had a new boyfriend and was close to being spoken for.

“There’s no future for you and me,” she said.  “You’re Griselda’s, whether you like it or not.  It’s best we act accordingly.”

Her lot had risen in the village since the arrest and trial.  She was something of a heroine among the women, and Mrs Brittles had offered her a partnership at the village tearooms.  She snapped it up.  Who wouldn’t have done so in her place?  As a result, men regarded her as a more attractive and respectable proposition than a pub kitchen maid any man in the village could spank for the price of a beer.

We remained friends, we still are friends, but she no longer came to my bed with those delicious long breasts.  I missed her warmth, and I missed Griselda’s too.  In fact, in a way I missed Griselda’s more.  Despite my early suspicions of her plans for Flavius, she had been funny.  She had brought sunshine and amusement into my life from the outset, and I knew she had a lot of warmth and love to offer too.  But still the distance remained, and the gulf seemed somehow unbridgeable.

I followed the police investigation of Celia’s disappearance.  They never came anywhere near Nether Slype.  Her compulsive secrecy frustrated them.  She had left no clue to what she was doing or where she was going, other than the files on her laptop, and we had incinerated that.  We had incinerated that.  In the end, they assumed that she had fallen foul of one of her many estranged lovers.  I pitied their taste in women.  Griselda and I never discussed the case.  For a while, we discussed nothing at all.

Then, out of the blue, I received another invitation from her.  There had been another death on the council of ten, and I had been elected to it.  More surprisingly, Ruth had too, the first even woman member, apart from Griselda herself.  We had to attend monthly meetings up at Nether Towers, but on this occasion, Griselda invited us all for dinner instead, with wives and partners invited.  Ruth’s new boyfriend was with her, and Griselda and I found ourselves paired.  We played our parts sociably enough yet the awkwardness remained between us.

But at one point in the evening Griselda sidled up to me and whispered in my ear.  “Owen, will you stay for a while when they’ve gone?”

“Why especially?”

“We need to talk.  Don’t we!”

“I want to,” I said, wishing that the courage to make the first move had been mine.  “I miss you, Griselda.”

She briefly squeezed my arm.  “Later.”  And she drifted off.

Later we sat by her large open fire kin her comfortable drawing room, watching flames consume a log the size of a small tree trunk.  Neither of us had spoken for several minutes.  We’d just sat together and watched the flames.

“I’ve retired Thwacks,” she said suddenly.

Then it struck me that I hadn’t seen him all evening.

“Why especially?”

“I couldn’t stand being in the same room with him.  Every time he said, sherry, ma’am, I remembered that awful interrogation and wanted to run outside screaming.  The man is such a sadist.  He didn’t do what he did to that woman because he had to, as you and I did, but because he loved doing it.  One of the maids told me that she heard screams from the cellars later, and saw him coming up from them in the early hours.  He’d been down there again to enjoy himself, hours after I’d told him that it was finished.  Sadist!”

“But aren’t we all?”

She sighed.  “Yes.  We all like inflicting and receiving a little pain now and then, Owen, but there are degrees.  The woman had told us all she knew.  It was over.  I had told him it so.”

“So what was your objection, his sadism or his disobedience?”

“Both.  The sadism for obvious reason, but the disobedience too.  Obedience at such times is essential.  Excessive measures must always be disciplined and subject to rules and reasons.”

“It must.  And that’s what’s come between us, isn’t it?  The awful responsibility we share.  The fact that we obeyed the rules despite our horror of them.”

She bowed her head.  “Yes, it has, and I wish it hadn’t.”

“Me too.”

She stared into the fire.  “Look, I know we’re strange here, but we have our limits — usually.  Wives can divorce their husbands, you know, and appeal to the council for protection.  A real brute can be restrained.  It’s basically consensual.”

“Not always,” I said.

“You mean your girl, Ginny.”  She bit her lip.  “Yes, I’m sorry about that.  I thought she was letting you down and I so wanted to make everything right for you and me that I lost my temper.  It wasn’t my place to whip her, but yours.”

“It wasn’t mine either, or to whip Heather.  At least, most outside the three villages would say so.”

“Perhaps they would, but they weren’t born here.  We are isolated, Owen, and we have stood still  while the world outside changed.  They would say they progressed, but I would demur.  I’ve been to London many times, and I haven’t seen much social progress.  But mostly I think it’s because a certain lifestyle is in our blood, our genes.  We have to do it, give it or receive it.  It’s the way we’re made.  It’s our culture.”

I laughed grimly and she looked at me nervously.  “I think I might have Flaythm blood, after all.  I did rather hold you jacket while Celia was being interrogated.  Not physically perhaps, but you know what I mean.”

“And you have to admit, Owen, that you derived far more satisfaction from it than I did.”

“At the start perhaps.  But not for long.”

But I knew that she was right to a point.  I had wanted to see Celia taken down because I had loathed the bitch, and what she had threatened to do to us all.  Griselda had acted solely from duty.

“Shall I put on some music?” She asked suddenly.

“Music?”

“I want to get that noise out of my head.  It still haunts me.  Now Thwacks has gone it will be easier.  He had to go.  He had a way of half-smiling.  Every time he did so, I heard that woman scream again.  I’ve heard many girls scream when they’re getting the strap or whatever, but never like that — nothing at all like that.”  She hugged herself and looked ashen.

I reached across and squeezed her hand.  “At least we can talk about it now, Griselda.”

She walked across to her hi-fi, a surprisingly up-to-date one I thought, for I had half expected her to crank a handle and put on a crackly seventy-eight.  She selected a CD, inserted it into the slot, and a few seconds later I heard the opening bars of Vaughan Williams’ fifth symphony, which I have loved since I was an adolescent.  It seemed almost obscene to hear such serene beauty after what had gone on downstairs, and yet, as the sound washed over me the screaming subsided to the back of my mind.

“I’ve loved this since I was a teenager,” I said.

“Mmmm!  Me too.  I often hear it in my head when I look down the approach road and see the distant Welsh hills.  It’s what I fight for, you see.  But look” — she took a deep juddering breath — “that was only the third time Thwacks had used the needles since my father died.  The other two were men — both from the three villages.  One had tried to corrupt a child and the other had done something similar to what woman Celia wanted to do.  Thwacks put the needles in different places, of course, but the result was the same.  Not pleasant.”

I don’t know why — it must have been delayed shock — but I laughed.

Griselda’s eyes turned on me, large, and somehow vulnerable.  “What’s so funny about it?”

“It’s the first time I’ve ever heard you use an understatement.”

“I know,” she said at last. “I was bloody ghastly, wasn’t it?   Hideous.  Almost unbearable.  But it’s the way it’s always been here.”

“Then we’ll have to change it,” I suggested softly, as I had after the trial.

“And put our way of life at risk?”

“If we don’t do it on our terms, Griselda, someone else will, and we’ll surely lose it all one day.”

“But we shall anyway, if we start to change.  Remember what my father said.  He was right, you know.”

“But the loss will be slower, smoother and, in the end, not missed so much.  You can’t keep history in chains, Griselda, much as you might wish to.  And hopefully we’ll be able to retain something, if we all want to.  Nether Slype will still be special.”

There was a long silence, then she walked slowly across and sat on the arm of my chair, very close, like she had to a few seconds on the day I met her, but this time she lingered and her hand found mine.

“Will you help me?”

“Of course.”

“I’m glad you’re here, Owen, even if you don’t want to marry me — especially after this.   I feel perhaps you don’t, but duty had to come first you see, even though I knew it would break my heart if you left.”

“Would it?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Nothing to worry about then,” I said huskily.  I drew her off the chair arm, and onto my lap, and hugged her properly for the first time ever.  Then I kissed her for the first time too.  Till then, she had always kissed me. Then we sat in silence together, listening to the heavenly music.

We didn’t jump straight into bed together, though I’d eagerly have taken her upstairs there and then.  For now that the awkwardness between us was dissolved and we could talk about necessary things, I was desperate to make up for lost time.  But Griselda had to do things properly. The bans were read three times and during that period there was no hanky panky, though she resumed pushing me up against trees, walls, doors and just about anything vertical she could conveniently prop me against while she devoured my face.  But that was as far as it went.

One good work I did was to find Ginny another position with an elderly widowed lady, who thought the world of her and provided her with her own little cottage next door, so that she and her boyfriend would have somewhere to live when they married, which Ginny told me, they were planning to do.

Griselda and I married in early April, just as the trees were staring to leaf, and I was amazed to think that I had been in the village for less than a year.  But during that time, my world had changed utterly.  For worse, and also for better.  When the day arrived, the church was packed and the churchyard was full of people who couldn’t get inside for the crush.  I waited by the altar with Ted Foxter, praying that Griselda wouldn’t change her mind at the last minute.  When she did arrive, wearing a white dress — not a wedding dress but a simple thing of sheer white — her hand continually twitched as though she were slapping her thigh with a riding crop, even though she’d left it at home for once.  She marched up to the front, grabbed hold of me, looked round to make sure everyone was there, and barked.  “Right!  Let’s get on with it!”

I think horsewomen develop large nipples from all that jogging up and down.  Their nipples must be perpetually rubbed.  When I went into our bedroom that night, Griselda was sitting up in bed wearing a cotton nightdress with a low neck.  Her cleavage was deep and delightfully freckled.  Her nipples, I noticed were long and poked through her thin nightdress like twin naval guns under covers.  My mouth watered. I’d get to grips with all that in a minute.  In the meantime, I had an important point to make, so I marched up to the bed and tore the covers down.

“We’re going to start as we mean to go on, Griselda,” I said sternly.

“Whatever you say, husband.”

“Nightdress off!”

“Yes husband.”

She lifted the nightdress, her magnificent tits splayed out into full view and I salivated.  Lying back, she opened her legs.  Her pussy was carpeted with luxuriant chestnut curls and her pink crack was open, waiting for me.  I’d get round to that in a minute too.

“You do understand that you’re no longer in charge here, don’t you Griselda?”

“Of course.  You’re my husband and master now.”

“Just so.”

So I unbuckled my trouser belt and pulled it out of the loops, wrapping it round my hand twice, as I’d seen the man in the garden do.  Griselda’s eyes were like plates.

“Are you going to spank me before you’ve shagged me, husband?” she asked eagerly.  “Or afterwards?”

“I’m going to do it now.  You’re going to be severely strapped for what you did to Ginny.   Very severely strapped indeed.  You’ve had it coming”

“Yes, husband, I know I have.  That was very naughty and I deserve it.  You’re right to punish me severely.”

“On your stomach!”

“Yes husband.”

She rolled over on her stomach and her magnificently developed horsewoman’s bottom can into view.  I almost burst my fly zip.

“This is exciting isn’t it!” she said eagerly.  “I haven’t been spanked since my father gave me thirty of the riding crop on my twenty-first birthday.  I’ll feel like a real woman now”

“Silence!  Grip the headboard rails!  Count!”

I raised my arm and the flying belt delivered a resounding blow across Griselda’s big bare buttocks.  They quivered elastically and ecstatically.

“One, husband.  Isn’t this exciting!”

“Quiet!”  I lifted my arm again.  There was a loud and the plump bottom quivered again.

“Two, husband.”

I whipped her with a will now, laying it on as hard as I could.  She had given it and now she would have to take it back.  One thing I was very sure of; she would know who her husband was and which of us was in charge.  She could forget all about sending me to the dungeons as she had sent Flavius, and I felt no qualms.  She had defended the custom and now she would live by it, and if she ever stepped out of line, I would thrash her until she stepped back into line again.

The thrashing continued and it was only after ten sound strokes that she started to labour.  Her strong horsewoman’s thighs were working now and her beautifully sculpted white cheeks displayed a broadening red stripe across them.  I continued remorselessly.

“Ah!  Ten, husband.”

Smack!

“Aaah!  Eleven, husband.”

I saw her head go back, and she was gasping and jerking at every stroke.

Smack!

“Aaaaah!  Twelve, husband.  I’m so sorry husband.”

I continued remorselessly.  Her thighs were twitching ceaselessly now and she was heaving her bottom up and down with a steady mechanical rhythm as people do when they’re in pain.

Smack!

“Aaaaah!  Ooooh!   Thirteen, husband.  I’m so, so sorry.  Please be merciful.”

She was crying into her pillow, I heard the sob in her voice.  Her thighs wriggled and her plump darkening bottom cheeks twitched ever faster.  She was in severe pain now.  The point was sinking in.

Smack!

“Aaaaaaah!  Aaaaaaah!   Fourteen, husband.  No more, I beg you.”

Her whole body twitched, I could hear her crying, but I couldn’t let that soften me, any more than Ginny’s screams had softened Griselda.

“I’ll decide when you’ve been strapped severely enough, Griselda.  And you haven’t been strapped nearly enough get.”

“Of course, husband.  Please forgive my impertinence.  Please strap me to your heart’s content.”

Smack!

“Aaaaaaah!  Aaaaaaah!   Fifteen, husband.”

Smack!

“Aaaaaaah!  Aaaaaaah!   Sixteen, husband.”

Smack!

“Aaaaaaah!  Aaaaaaah!   Aaaaaaah!   Seventeen, husband.  Mercy!”

Smack!

“Aaaaaaah!  Aaaaaaah!   Aaaaaaah   Eighteen, husband.  Mercy!  I beg you!”

I’d made my point, and I’d enjoyed it.  “I’m finished now,” I said calmly.  “Back under the covers!  On your back!  Legs open!  Crack open!”

“Yes husband.”

I undressed while she wiped her eyes and composed herself.

“I’m sorry, Griselda,” I said, “but you’ve given enough of it, so now you’ll have to take it back.”

“Yes, husband.  You’re right to correct my faults.”

“Of course I am.  I’m your husband.”

“Yes, husband.”

I undressed, climbed on the bed, and onto Griselda.  I rubbed my cock gently but pleasurably on her pussy hair.

“And now, my dear,” I whispered in her ear.  “At long last, I’m going to take my rightful possession of your cunt.”

“Yes husband,” she said, wrapping her legs right round me.  “It’s waiting to pleasure you.  But please be gentle with it.”

“Gentle?”  I laughed.  “It’s been bouncing up and down on Bronco for God knows how many years.  It surely doesn’t need gentleness!”

She swallowed.  “Bronco’s in the corner, husband, next to the wardrobe.”

I squirmed over and looked where she directed.  There, standing in the corner of the room was a very small, old, and tatty child’s rocking horse.”

“Where’s the big, knobbly dildo?”

I felt her blush.  “There never was one.  I just loved talking about sexy things with you, hoping that talking about them would make them real.  No girl in the three villages wants to admit she’s a virgin.”

“You’re a virgin?” I asked incredulously.

She bit her lip.  “I’m sorry I lied to you, darling.  Shall I fetch your strap for my further punishment?”

“Don’t be silly,” I whispered and kissed her as I slid my prick into her hot, tight, and responsive cunt.  “Oh!  That’s better.  That’s much better.”

She hugged me tightly and gasped with pleasure.  “Enjoy it to your heart’s content, my lord and master.”

More than half an hour had passed since the last of her daughter’s whimpering had subsided which was an hour after her screams were at their fiercest. I finally permitted her mother, Nora,  to stand outside the unlocked bathroom door where Kitty hid inside. Hid inside from any further abuse from me, their kidnapper   and her earlier tormentor.

Nora knocked ever so softly.

‘Kitty. Kitty, it’s your mother. I want you to come out.’

There was complete silence as we both waited for a response, me in heightened anticipation. Such mother daughter moments were precious and irreplaceable.

Nora knocked slightly louder and faster.

‘Kitty, please come out. Come out or I’ll come in instead.’

Kitty objected quickly.

‘No, Mom, no. Don’t come in.’

‘Why?  Why not sweetheart? Why?’

‘Please Mom, please, because, because I don’t want you to see me. Not this way. Is he still out there? Is he out there with you? I don’t want you to see what he did to me.’

Nora directed her mother’s instinctive fury my way.

‘You bastard. What did you do to my daughter? How did you make her scream? You filthy bastard. What did you do to her? Why doesn’t she want me to see her?’

I was prepared for her anger, for her resistance, in that I had my trusty twenty-two pistol in hand, the one I’d used to kidnap them with several hours earlier and two hundred miles removed. I’d grabbed them in the underground parking garage of a swanky hotel where they were attending a benefit for Lymphoma, a form of cancer with a high survival rate, and they were dressed to the nines in their finest finery. I kept the gun pointed in Nora’s general direction, often aiming at her pussy area.

‘Nothing she can’t live with or without for that matter, and the same goes for you.’ I responded to Nora’s outrage.

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about. What are you talking about?’

‘Get together with your daughter and you’ll see, you’ll find out.’

‘Kitty. Kitty if you don’t come out I’m coming in, so please sweetheart, please honey..’

Page 2.

After ten seconds we heard a rustle at the door knob as it turned ever so slowly. The door opened at an even greater snail’s pace and finally, at last, Kitty emerged from her hidey hole.

Most immediately evident, she was naked from the waist up, her party dress resting all bunched up on her hips and she had her slender arms crossed tightly across her flat chested front. Her delicate shoulders were rounded forward and she was trembling. Her hair was disheveled and many tears stained her cheeks.

Her eyes were pleading and incredibly sad.

She looked like a woman injured.

Nora was incensed.

‘You bastard. What have you done to her? Why does she have her dress down like that? You monster, you have no right. What did you do to her?’

Now the thing was, I had just instructed Nora that if I let her see her kid, see Kitty, that she could not run to her to hug nor comfort her and she couldn’t even tell her that I was forcing her to behave in such a distant manner. I advised her very specifically if she did, Kitty would pay a horrendous price, so there she stood, merely ten feet from her and could not move forward to embrace nor protect her. It was clear from the trepidation on Kitty’s face that she was confused by her mother’s apparent lack of willingness for physical contact and union. Her unwillingness to comfort her in her greatest time of need.

Kitty glared at me and began to berate me too.

‘How could you? How could you do it to me?’

‘What? What?’ Nora cried out to Kitty all alarmed. ‘Do what to you?’

I stepped back for the moment of truth wanting to take in the whole scene.

As I said, such were priceless, unrepeatable moments between mothers and daughters.

‘Mom. Mom, oh God Mom. What he did to me. Mom? God, Mom he, he, God, he cut..’

Nora’s face began to go ashen pale white sallow.

‘Mom, he cut, he cut, he cut off..’

Kitty opened her arms to reveal..

Nora shrieked at me.

‘You ungodly bastard. You sick, sick maniac. My baby. Oh God, my baby girl.’

Now Kitty was thirty-five so she weren’t no baby other than in her mother’s eyes.

She took a step towards me so I leveled the gun at Kitty’s head.

‘Try it. Just try anything and the bitch dies. You wanna be responsible for me putting a bullet in her head?’

Nora stopped short of her tracks.

‘Mom. Mom, why did he? Why did he cut off one of my nipples? I didn’t do anything to him, Mom.’

Page 3.

It was a question no sane, no loving, mother could ever answer with relevance for her mutilated daughter.

‘I don’t know. God, Honey, I don’t know how he could.’

‘But mom, how can I go on? I.. I know my breasts aren’t very big but I’ve never hated myself because of them. They’re what God gave me and now, now one of my nipples is gone. What am I supposed to do?’

‘You have to go on. You have no choice. You must remain strong and prevail.’

‘But Mom, there’s more. So much more. I’m a terrible daughter. I’ve been a terrible daughter and I don’t know how I can ever forgive myself. How I can ever make it up to you?’

‘No. No. No, Honey, no. No, it’s not your fault. No, he’s insane, so there’s nothing you have to blame yourself for.’

‘No Mom, you don’t know. You just don’t know. You don’t know all of it. You don’t understand.’

‘What? What, baby, what?’

‘He’s evil. He’s a monster. Before he did it to me, he told me he was going to. At least an hour before, he let me know so I could anticipate and be scared. And I prayed so hard but it didn’t make any difference to me. Look at me.’ (The mutilated woman pressed at her injured breast)  ‘Look at my breast. Now Mom, why can’t I understand? Why did this have to happen to me?’ Why did he have to do it to me?’

Nora answered softly, ‘I don’t know. I don’t know honey.’ **

And then she turned her vitriol on me. Nora shot her hatred my way like stabbing, firebrand arrows.

‘You scum. You degenerate piece of garbage. She’s my daughter. She’s precious, my precious. How could you? She never harmed you. She’s never harmed anyone. How, how in God’s earth could you?’

I shrugged my shoulders like the whole matter was funny and I didn’t give a shit, flying or otherwise and answered her, ‘Why don’t you let her finish. Go ahead, Kitty, finish.’

Page 4.

‘But Mom, he, he gave me a choice. He said, said, he said if I cut it off myself, if I did it to myself, he wouldn’t hurt you. Mom. I failed. I failed you. I tried. I really did, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t cut my own nipple off.’

‘Oh Honey. Oh Sweetheart, of course you couldn’t. Of course not. No woman could.’

‘But look at me. It’s gone anyway. It hurts just as much and looks just as horrible but he said, he said if I didn’t do it, he’d cut both your nipples, both of your nipples off.’

Nora shot her fiercest glare at me and I gave her a smug, power-filled look as I pointed the gun at her chest.

I smiled at Nora and nodded my head to affirm Kitty wasn’t lying, that she hadn’t made it all up.

I then looked at Kitty.

‘Tell her. Tell her the rest.’

‘Oh Mom. Oh, God Mom, he said other horrible, unimaginable things. Things he said he would do to your vagina too.’

Nora became a little less mother like and more unsteady and afraid for her own physical and sexual identity. It had never occurred to her that I’d torture her vagina and by extrapolation that of her daughter too. She hadn’t even thought I’d rape them, in that somehow she’d prevent me from having the opportunity. Y’know, a mother’s protective instincts and all directed towards her young one. Her legs were growing wobbly and she feared she was about to faint.

‘I have to.. I have to sit down.’

There was a chair (conveniently, since I’d anticipated her reaction) just off to the side.

‘Go ahead.’ I motioned to her. ‘Have a fucking seat if it’ll help.’

Nora slumped down to be seated and looked down at the floor for a few moments and then back up at Kitty still standing all guilty and afraid.

‘Sweetheart, I’m your mother. I could, I can never be angry at you for something you could not possibly help. You must understand that and accept it. As for him, that monster, no. No he will not.. I won’t let him. So don’t worry about that.’

Page 5.

It was so masterfully marvellous and really quite predictable. The main question was, what did Nora think she wouldn’t let me do? Didn’t she understand I could play Kitty against her just as effectively as I had played her against Kitty. Always and ever threaten to hurt one to get the other one to do something horrible and unthinkable.

Nora was a dunce when it came to motherly daughterly control. And of course about matters of sexual torture and mutilations. She knew nothing of how a tortured woman dies.

I decided to decidedly show her who was boss.

‘Mom. Mom, over here.  Stand up and take your fucking dress off. Take it off now.’

I pointed the gun at her face.

She looked shocked, like she never expected she’d actually have to strip for me. She was the older, wiser woman who was worthy of respect. She’d never been so humiliated in her life before nor forced into such a degrading unfolding situation.

She had the temerity to resist.

‘I will not. I won’t take my dress off for you.’

Kitty interjected, ‘Mom. Please listen to him. He’s made it perfectly clear to me that you’ll eventually have to do what he says. That I had to do what he wanted. Mom, I know you don’t want to, I don’t want you to either, but you’d better do what he says.’

It was two against one and Nora looked confused and hurt.

That her daughter would gang up on her hurt her.

As offended as her sensibilities were, she knew Kitty’s hurt went way beyond just the emotional. It dawned on her she’d have to comply but wanted to wring some concessions out of me. She revealed them slowly, layer after intricate layer, or so she thought. To me it was mostly so very simplistic since I’d heard it  many times before in different shades and nuances. Many hues of the same color.

‘I will take my dress off but I have to do it slowly. It’s an Italian designer, one of my favorites and very expensive so I will take it off but carefully. I don’t want to damage it.’

Page 6.

Was she for real? Her fucking daughter was standing there nippleless and she was fussed about her dress. Stupid, arrogant, spoiled rich bitch, indeed if she really was worried about the state of her ladi-da dress, I’d fix it for her.

She continued with another layer of her concerns.

‘And.. and I want you to tell me, I need you to tell us both that you were not serious about hurting me. That you only used it to scare Kitty, which you did terribly, horribly, but that was  it. The end and that you won’t hurt either one of us any more. I need you to promise before I take off my dress.’

I could have acted angry like I was outraged at her demands but what was the need? I’d get everything I wanted out of them eventually so there was no percentage in being a boor other than I could be a right fine one if I wanted to be.

‘I’ll think about that.’ I answered. ‘But before you undress which I know you will, so that dress is expensive? Huh? One of your favorites? It sure as hell fits you good. Show off your fucking figure. I love how it pulls across the front, across your tits.’

‘Yes. Yes, I already told you that.’

I reached  into a drawer in a side table and fetched out an Italian switch-blade knife with an ivory handle. It was from WWII.   I showed it to Nora and asked her, ‘So what do you think this is?’

She wasn’t a hundred percent sure since the blade was folded in.

I snapped it open with the push of a button.

‘Oh my God. My God, I can see it’s a knife.’

‘Indeed it is and isn’t it a coincidence, it’s from Italy too just like your designer dress. So maybe the two of them should get together.’

I stood up to approach her.

Now Nora’s dress was of the finest quality silk, a medium blue and stretched across her bosom  in a low gentle curve revealing two inches of her moderate cleavage. The finest feature were its spaghetti straps which made it look like lingerie, which it wasn’t. It was an Ungaro original which cost near ten thousand dollars. Spoiled cunt, I’d show her how much respect I had for such decadence.

Page 7.

Nora stood up defiantly and wanted to back away but I warned her ever so matter-of-factly, ‘Stand still. Stay right where you are or I’ll cut her other nipple off.’

Both women scrunched their faces up as I arrived at Nora’s shoulders. I raised the knife to her face and traced it’s sharp point down her neck and over to a thread thin strap. She fully expected me to cut it with a quick flick of my wrist and stood trembling with her breasts jiggling. Fuck was she turning me on. Of course, I surprised her. From a certain angle I was able to slide the blade of the knife inside her dress from just in front of her armpit and I didn’t make it go inside her bra which was a strapless variety.

I wiggled the blade inside her dress  and then said, ‘Oops.’

But nothing had happened.

‘Oh pardon me.’ I said again. ‘Oops.’ And with that thrust the knife point out through the fabric covering her bra and gave a hard slice and cut her dress open at the front on one side. It was royally and completely ruined. Ten thousand bucks down the crapper.

Nora jumped back.

‘You bastard. You miserable bastard. Why did you have to do that?’

I reached forward into the tear and ripped her dress right off her shoulders. It didn’t take much strength and the thin straps snapped.

‘Fine that’s better. That’s the way I wanna see you. So now it’s up to you. You gonna take your bra off or do I have to do it for you, with this?’ I raised the knife to her again.

‘No. No. OK. No. I will. I will. I’ll take it off for you. Just give me a minute.’

‘Sure, take all the time you want. While you are I’ll just check out what’s going on with Kitty over here.’ I moved in on her daughter.

Nora removed her bra before I ever got the ten feet to her kid.

‘Stand up straight. Don’t round your shoulders. Stick your fucking tits out like you’re proud of them.’

She tried her best and her best not to shake but she kept on jiggling her stuff.

Page 8.

I addressed her.

‘So Kitty told you the deal. She told you how she failed you. How I told her if she’d cut her own nipple off, I wouldn’t do it to you. But she failed. My God, how miserably she failed so I suppose it’s up to you now.’

She looked at me angry, humiliated and confused.

‘What? What are you talking about?’

‘It’s up to you to chose. Which one? Which one of your nipples comes off? To start?’

Her mouth trembled and her chin quivered and Kitty cried out, ‘No. No, please you can’t. No please. Don’t do any more. I know I failed. I tried as hard as I could but I failed. But don’t make my mother pay for it. It’s not her fault. It’s not even my fault. It’s, it’s yours for.. Oh, please just don’t hurt my mother.’

I sauntered over to Kitty.

‘I see. I.. so.. I see. OK, what if I give you a second chance? Huh? A second chance to save your mom? Think you could do better?’

‘What? I don’t know. What?’

‘Sure you do. You have another nipple, at least still. So what if I give you another chance to cut it off and that way your mom gets spared?’

Nora piped up, ‘No Kitty. No don’t. Don’t even think about it. Don’t give into his preposterous suggestion. Kitty, Honey, I’m your mom, your mother. It’s up to me to protect you. So please, just let me deal with him.’

I went back to the older woman.

‘So you wanna deal with me. Huh? What kinda deal do you wanna make?’

‘Let me work up the courage and I’ll take my clothes off. I’ll take all my clothes off for you.’

Did she really think she wouldn’t be doing that anyway? Both of them? Still it was a treat to play along with her like her offer had significance and hope.

‘No more shit. No shit. No more delaying nor dodging and weaving. You’ll co-operate and just..’

‘Yes. Yes I will. If you’ll just let me have a moment with Kitty, a private moment. I’ll do everything you say.’

Page 9.

What neither woman knew was I had super sensitive microphones hidden in several locations within the room where they were imprisoned and also had a window that looked like a mirror from which I could observe them unknown from a secret adjoining room. Like the set up you see on TV cop shows where a suspect is included in a lineup for a victim to identify. I had a remote control panel which allowed me to activate the mikes and a tape recorder located in the hidden viewing room.

‘I suppose I could do that.’ I offered as I sidled-up to the right switch and set the equipment going.

‘I’ll just sit down over here so you can figure it out between yourselves. Take as long as you want.’

Nora sent me a suspicious, unsettled look. Take as long as they wanted, what did that mean? She would have expected impatience from me, like I’d want to get at whatever it was I was proposing to do, but no. Leisurely and relaxed, no hurry no fuss. What were the implications of that?

One of my favorite portions of the sterling book, The Collector, by John Fowles, (highly recommended reading for any true fan of the kidnapping and hold ‘em sport) is where Miranda is negotiating for the length of her stay. Where at first she believes a day to be too long and yet eventually settles for four weeks. Not a month mind you which for the story would have been thirty-one days, but absolutely no more than four weeks. It was the same sense that Nora was picking up on. Did ‘take as long a you want’ really mean they wouldn’t be leaving that day or heaven forbid, not any time soon? It unsettled her and even Kitty sensed my generosity of time allotment held deeper sinister meaning.

So I did as I said, moved away from within earshot, and Nora moved close to Kitty. Her motherly instincts overpowered her and she gave her daughter a big, tender hug and consoled her head by stroking her cheek and her hair. She tried to sooth her mind. I guess she’d forgotten my threats about not embracing her, but surely I hadn’t. I just didn’t say anything about it right then.

I’d let them have almost half an hour and stood up.

‘OK. Enough is enough. What have you decided?’

‘If I take my dress off, oh God help me, I don’t believe I’m saying that, saying it. When I take my dress off, I’ll let you do it. I’ll let you rape me if you want to but you have to promise not to hurt Kitty anymore. You have to promise.’

Kitty cried out, ‘No Mom. No. That’s not what we said. No Mom you can’t. You can’t let him.’

‘Kitty, I’m your mother. Just please be quiet and let me handle this.’

‘By handle this you mean handle me, I presume?’ I interjected.

Nora gave me a more suspicious look.

‘No, that’s not what I meant. I just meant I don’t want Kitty making it any harder for me to stick to my resolve than it already is. That’s all I meant.’

‘Humph. OK. I guess. So you’re going to let me fuck you? I can stick it right up between your sweet legs. Huh? Right into your fucking cunt. Huh? Ram your twat? Suck on your clit?’

‘Stop it. Stop talking dirty. You have no idea how difficult this is for me and there’s one other thing you have to agree to.’

Page 10.

‘And what would that be?’

‘Not in front of Kitty. Not in front of my daughter. You don’t get to rape me in front of her.’

I strode over to Kitty.

‘What do you think of that? What do you think of your mom’s offer?’

‘Please. Just please, don’t do it. Don’t rape her. Can’t you see how desperate she is to protect me. She loves me. She really loves me and I love her too. So please, don’t hurt her.’

‘Tell you what. I’ll give it a bit of thought. Take it under advisement as they say. I’ve got something to do for awhile . I’ll let you know when I get back.’

With that I high-tailed it out of their prison room into my secret observation room and got all ensconced to watch them while I played back the contents of their conversation. I really wanted to know how much and what they had been plotting.

As Nora touched her daughter for the very first time since her mutilation she began, ‘Oh Kitty, oh sweetheart, let me see your breast. Oh God, how much does it hurt? Can you stand the pain? How can you stand the pain?’

‘Mom, I don’t know. It’s not as bad, not as severe as it was  when he first did it, but it still hurts. It hurts a lot. God, Mom, why did he do it to me? Why did he have to?’

‘I don’t know. I truly don’t know. Some men are just so sick that everything normal to us means nothing to them. They just live and operate outside the norms, the bounds of decent human behavior. I don’t know, Honey, but he must be crazy.’

‘Do you think he’s going to kill us? God, Mom, do you?’

‘No. No, I’m sure God won’t let that happen. I’m sure God will give me the strength and the opportunity to be sure that doesn’t happen.’

‘I dunno. I’m not sure. Look how he already got us. How he laid in wait and forced us into his van when we weren’t even aware of his existence. I don’t know, Mom, he’s gotten away with a lot already. And even more so, what he did to my breast. Isn’t that even so much more horrible?’

Page 11.

‘Yes. Of course it is, yes. Kitty, please tell me. I know it may hurt, it may be more than you want to re-live, but how did he do it? What did her use to, to..’

‘To remove my nipple? To cut it off?’

‘Yes. What did he use?’

‘That’s part of what scares me so much about him. He had, no he has, a whole array of medical instruments. Surgical stuff. Like the real thing from hospitals. He says he bought them on the Internet and he used a scalpel to perform what he called a

nipple-ectomy. He joked about it not being a radical mastectomy, and not even a radical nipple-ectomy since he didn’t take my areola too. How could he joke about it. How could he mom?’

‘Like I said he’s crazy and demented and we have to find a way to beat him. We have to find a way to defeat him so we can get away and be free.’

‘How? How is that possible? We don’t know where we are. It was a long drive, at least two hours. We don’t even know if we can get out of this room he has us in.’

‘I know. You’re right, but we can’t just let him abuse us and then kill us. We can’t just surrender our bodies to him nor our lives. I think we both know that.’

‘Yes. OK. What do you want to do? What do you want to try then?’

‘The only thing I can think of and I know it sounds horrendous and impossible, but the only thing we have to use against him is, are our bodies.’

‘What? Why? How?’

‘We have to trick him into thinking we’re going to co-operate with him. That we will be willing participants, even victims, and when the moment is perfect we have to attack him. We have to attack him to kill him. Anything less and I’m sure we’ll fail and end up paying for it even worse. We’ll have to find the strength and just do it no matter how reprehensible and horrid and foreign it might seem.’

Page 12.

‘After what he’s done to me, nothing would please me more. I hate to say it but I want to cut his penis off. I want to smash his testicles since that’s what’s motivating him to do all this in the first place. I hate him. I despise him. I want to murder him myself. You wouldn’t even have to help.’

‘No. No, we do it together. He’s injured my baby girl. No I want to kill him along with you. So we’re agreed on that?’

‘Yes. If we can, we’ll kill him together.’

‘What is your plan? What is your plan, Mom?’

‘I’m going to undress for him. I know I’ll have to do that. So I’ll offer. And you’ll have to do the same thing too.’

‘I don’t know if I can. Even though he’s already handled my breasts, and he suckled them too, I don’t know if I can offer to take the rest of my clothes off. You know Mom. You know why, about my vagina.’

‘Oh baby, I’m so afraid for you. God sweetheart, I wasn’t thinking. How could I be so forgetful?’

‘It’s OK. It’s OK Mom, but what am I supposed to do? Do about it?’

(I have to say here, they really engaged my heightened interest. What was the big mystery? What the fuck was with Kitty’s Kunt? I liked that, like KK, Kitty’s Kunt with a capital K.)

‘God, there’s nothing you can do. I don’t think there is. Why, oh why God when you asked for the reconstructive surgery didn’t I listen to you. Yes, it’s how God made you, but I should have listened to your concerns but I guess I felt it wasn’t urgent and any time you wanted to we could arrange to have it done. God, I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry Kitty, now you’re going to have to deal with him looking at you, leering at it and..’

‘Oh God, Mom, what if he want’s to cut it off too? What will I do then?’

‘I don’t think he would. I don’t think he could. I don’t know. I truly don’t know what to say.’

‘I.. I didn’t want to say. I really felt I couldn’t, but you could be wrong.’

‘No. Why? What makes you say that?’

Page 13.

‘No, it’s what he said to me. What he said when he was trying to convince me, trying to force me to cut my own nipple off, what he said besides if I didn’t, he’d cut both yours off. What he said about hurting your vagina.’

‘Kitty, you have to tell me. You have to tell your mother. I need to know so I have a truer, the truest picture possible of what we’re dealing with in him. So I know how hard I have to fight back to defeat him.’

‘If you can..’ Kitty replied softly.

‘Don’t think like that. Don’t say it either. Of course we’re going to triumph over him. I know God won’t let us lose to him, so please, please Honey tell me. What else did he say?’

‘I can’t. I can’t repeat it. It’s too horrible and disgusting. It’s completely inhuman and shows such horrid disrespect for a woman’s body. Oh Mom, please Mom, don’t make me say.’

Nora took Kitty’s face in her hands, at that point, I could easily see it from where I sat off in the distance and gave her her most sincere and serious motherly but stern look.

‘Tell me. Just tell me now. You must.’

‘Mom. OK, Mom, but I think I might be sick. I think I might throw up as I utter the words. I don’t know if I can keep it all inside, I’m so scared when I think of it and my own vagina.’

‘What.. what exactly did he say?’

‘He said if I didn’t cut my nipples..’

‘Yes I know it was about that. What did he say about me more?’

‘He said he would hurt your vagina. He said he would tie you down with your legs spread and he’d torture you between them. Mom, Mom, he said he would cut your labia, he would use the scalpels on them and oh God, heaven forbid, he said he would puncture and then burn your clitoris. Burn your clitoris, Mom. How could you ever stand that?’

Nora sounded audibly shaken.

‘Any more? Anything else?’

Page 14.

‘Yes. Yes, the worst part of all. He said he has a number of speculums, y’know what the doctors use for internal examinations to open the passage. He said he would insert one into you and, oh God, he would violate your cervix. He said he’d concentrate on torturing your cervix. Oh God, how could anyone think to be so cruel and then the last worst thing which I’ve never heard of nor ever even thought of. He said he’d put a big firecracker into your vagina and blow your cervix into your womb. How could any woman, no matter how strong or determined survive that? Survive all that? How Mom? How?’

‘No. No, she couldn’t and you know what, I think he knows it. I think he just wanted to talk as dirty and as horrible to you to try to terrorize you into doing something else he knew was impossible. I think it was just an extreme abuse of power and control. Control and power he thinks he has over us, had over you at the time.’

‘And I’d agree with you except he did it. He actually did it and if you look closely how he did it, he left a stub of my nipple. He explained to me by not cutting the whole end off, but leaving a fraction, about a quarter, it would be more painful since so many nerve endings would still be left. He even tried to maximize my suffering that way by leaving a trace of it. Like a nipple stump.

(I loved it. Spectacular. Why hadn’t I thought of that before? “A nipple stump.”)

‘OK. OK, give me a minute, please. This is so much to take in. Almost too much to absorb. I don’t know if I can, but I have to find an answer and the right one right off. I don’t think we’ll get a second chance with him.’

‘While you are, please tell me what to do about my minora labia. Please, and the way they hang out so far. What am I supposed to do about that part that hangs out of my vagina? I’m sure when he sees it he’ll want to torture it too.’

(My eyes grew wide and I ground my teeth. I knew. I fucking knew if she had one of those hangy-out cunt thingy-magigys, I’d be stretching it long and biting it off. I’d done it to two before her already. And it just proved the premise that there was no accounting for, nor predicting, vaginal construction. Some of the sweetest, tidiest females had sloppy cunts too. And I never took Kitty with her flat chested tits to be one of those also. Oh happy day, what a lucky time for me was ahead.)

Page 15.

‘I don’t know. God I don’t know what to think of anything about him. I don’t know what he’ll want to do to your minora and, Honey, I have to ask even though I don’t want to know.’

‘What? What is it?’

‘What did he do with your nipple?’

‘Oh God, that’s another horrible part. I almost forgot. I guess I wanted to shut it out, suppress it. How can one man, one monster, be so completely evil?’

‘What did he do with it?’

‘First he put it in his mouth like I thought he was going to eat it, almost like a wad of chewing gum and then he took it out and told me to do the same thing. And when I refused he said he’d cut the other one off so I did. Oh God, oh my Jesus, I had my own severed nipple in my mouth. How utterly disgusting and horrid.’

‘And then what? What did he do next?’

‘He asked me if I wanted to eat it and, of course, I said no so he asked for it back. My God in Heaven, what are we talking about here? We’re talking about one of my nipples but I gave it back to him and he thanked me and said it was just as well I wouldn’t swallow it since he wanted it as a souvenir of me. He said he already has a whole collection of them and he’d be happy to add  mine and then he said about adding yours to.’

Nora muttered, ‘God. Oh my God.’ Several times in quick succession.

‘I told him it wouldn’t last very long as a souvenir, like it would spoil and he said he had a method of preserving it in clear, liquid acrylic that when hardened, it, my nipple would always look just as it did when he cut it off me. He seemed so proud of that, like it took special skill or intelligence or something. God, Mom, how can any of this be for real?’

‘Yes, I have heard of certain sexual deviants keeping souvenirs of their victims but it was usually pieces, items of under-garments or maybe a lock of hair, never actual sexual body parts. My God, the man is highly demented. My God, he could be the worst. The worst ever.’

Page 16.

‘Do you think he’s a psychopath? A sexual deviant psychopath? Do you think that, Mom?’

‘I really don’t know, but from what you’re describing he could be. God, I hope he’s not. God, I hope we haven’t fallen into the hands of a torturing, mutilating, sexual psychopath because then he’s most likely a serial killer too since otherwise he’d've been caught by now.’

‘You really think he kills his victims?’

‘I don’t know.’ She paused reflectively. ‘I hope not.’

‘You think he’s gonna kill us?’

‘No, I won’t let that happen. I already told you he’s come to the end of his killing spree line, if that’s what he’s been up to.’

You might say she was right, not about the end of the line but about what I’d been up to. That would be up to number twenty-two  and counting and when their times came, it would make an even two dozen. Not to shabby for not even coming close to being caught.

And the crazy, but delightful, part of pursuing my proclivity was the endless supply of potential victims. I mean they were every where in the most unsafe and insecure of locations and positions. It was a bounty, an inexhaustible supply of female flesh to be rendered.

Take local regional shopping malls, the ones where ninety percent of the staff and customers arrived by car. Many had at least a couple of hundred of stores. Focusing on the staff possibilities first, it was common mall practice that they had to park quite far out from close to the entrance doors to facilitate the paying shoppers and, of course, because of the long walk, most clerks parked still where they could be closest to the entrance nearest to the store they worked in. And of two hundred stores, percentages dictated there would be a small but guaranteed number of female clerks who would be right up my alley. Especially in the women’s higher end stores or the trendy boutique type staffed by savvy young women on the way up, or so they thought. It took almost no smarts to wait for them at closing time to jaunt the long haul to where their cars were parked and follow them around and to learn their routines. Then under cover of darkness and bad weather, driving rain was the best, to kidnap them at gunpoint and spirit them away to my secret prison specially constructed to keep them in.

Page 17.

And some other ones were the female real estate agents. I mean how fucking dumb could they be? They even published little pictures of themselves with their listings and it was easy to scan them to find potential victims and delve further by accessing their web sites. The good looking ones, and there were always a few, why didn’t they just run a banner add, – Potential rape victim. Come and get it, come and get me. Here’s where I am. I’m asking for it. Cut the cunt out of me.

They might as well have, with the wording of some of their ads.

Yes, indeed, the listings themselves. The catch words and the watch phrases. ‘Immediate Possession’ and lately ‘Bank in Possession’ which meant the house was vacant. Was currently unoccupied and what better place to grab an unsuspecting woman than in a house that’s guaranteed to be empty. Also, ’secluded, very private, or estate like setting’, all indicating a level of privacy and isolation conductive to kidnapping a woman unnoticed.

Then there was the greed factor, ever the almighty lure of the slimy dollar. Find a property that fit the parameters and the targeted woman was the listing agent and as a potential buyer dealing with her, she would get both ends of the commission. I mean let’s say a million dollar house, common in many city and even rural areas, and the six percent commission so common, on both ends, was sixty-thousand dollars. What an incentive to ignore the danger signals that she could be being lured to her demise.        Another ripe area were seasonal properties. Cottages or camp as some of the upper crust liked to call them and again remoteness  and isolation  and nobody home all rounded out the feasibility.

Anyhow, enough on my theories and practical applications of victimology. Back on the ranch, er, in the prisoner’s pad, the two women had fallen silent.

Kitty looked at Nora really deeply and finally came out with it, out with the unanswerable question.

‘Mom, what if we fail?  What if we don’t succeed  in overpowering him or even deterring him? What then? What are we supposed to do? To do then?’

‘We’ll just have to believe that we will. That’s all we can do.’

Page 18.

‘No, but no, Mom. What if we can’t. Please answer me. I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m a grown woman. Please don’t treat me like a child. I know you’re still trying to protect me but look at my breast. You couldn’t protect me from that. What if we can’t and we know he’s going to kill us or he already has killed one of us and the other still lives. What then?’

‘You have to believe. I’m asking you to believe that God will take care if us. That He won’t let that happen.  That her cares for us and loves us and won’t let such a horrible fate befall us. You still do believe in God, don’t you?’

Kitty hesitated.  She scrunched up her face and gave an indication she wasn’t so sure anymore.

‘Sweet heart, you have to believe. I know you’re a good Christian and you believe in Jesus Christ as your personal saviour, so you must not let your faith waver. Is this what’s shaking your faith? You don’t see that is might be a test? A test for both of us?’

‘I understand that Mom. I really do, about God not giving you more than you, than we, can handle but I’m not so sure anymore. I mean not since Dr. Marla.’

‘Oh. Oh, I see. Oh. OK, yes, I can understand that. I think I can.’

‘But Mom, think about it. I mean you appeared on her  programme ‘Balance TV’ and she was so healthy and vibrant and the aerobics workout you did together, it was really something. Like the fitness part and how two older women could still look so good at your ages, but I mean she was a doctor, is a doctor, and the thing about her breasts. I mean you told me how she confided in you about how important her chest was to her, even though publicly she said otherwise to others, how she claimed her breasts never defined her but how she was terrified and prayed to God she might keep them and yet, a double, a double one. She still had to have a double mastectomy so how much did her prayers matter to God then? And what she said about being ‘mindful’ about her life. How she paid attention to the smallest of details always watching for a moment that could be a turning point. Weren’t we mindful of our lives? I guess not, for this to happen to us.’

‘No. No I don’t think that’s it at all. You can’t say this is our faults. It’s just, to a large degree, bad luck.’

Page 19.

‘No, but Mom, no. Marla said about luck and chance too. She said about, it’s not the luck, good nor bad, but what you do with it. The chances that the circumstances present to you. What possible good chances can what he’s done to my breast already and what he’s still threatening to do, what good can come from any of that? I just don’t know. I just don’t see nor even sense any. And that’s why I think Dr. Marla is wrong. Her God didn’t care about her and she had to sacrifice her beautiful breasts to the devil of cancer. What’s spiritual or Godly about that?’

‘I know. I see, it might seem that way but she’s still alive and remains a vibrant and successful woman.’

‘Yes she does. She is, but she has no tits. And like I just said, her precious breasts still had to be sacrificed to her uncaring God so I don’t know that I believe anymore. I don’t know that I believe God will save or even help us out of this so we shouldn’t count on it.’

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‘I don’t know Kitty. I don’t know that it’s the same thing.’

‘But it is Mom. Don’t you see? God didn’t intervene, He didn’t prevent us from being kidnapped in the first place. Why didn’t He keep this from happening at all?’

‘I don’t know. How can I know? I only know we have to find a way to defeat him and the only realistic one is to use our bodies to fool him into thinking we’re going to co-operate, no, into thinking we want to participate to show him what a pleasurable time we can allow him to have and then do it. Kill him. Execute him. That’s what we have to do. Oh, look. He’s coming back. I’ll have to lead off with our plan.’

It had been over twenty-five minutes so I’d been really generous allowing them so much time to commiserate and to plot. Of course, I knew I was going to be able to play back every one of their secret words so wasn’t in a hurry to stifle them. But my crotch was getting itchy for some pussy so it told me to get on back in to deal with them.

Page 20.

I fairly skipped back in to join them. I mean there’s no more exhilarating nor satisfying thrill than the anticipation, the knowing, that I was going to eat and beat a beautiful woman’s cunt. They were in there and I was joining them for some serious vaginal mayhem. Of the two, I suppose Kitty was the more beautiful, but Nora had a quiet strength and presence about her, a dignity, that made her even more appealing, like she’d be a tougher broad to break. The differences in the degrees of satisfaction I’d exact from each women were so miniscule I suppose they were insignificant but I decided to really go for Nora. I wanted to lay a beating on her and see how hard she’d fight me back.

‘So ladies, what’s up? What have you decided? I gave you lots of time, more than I expected, so I’m sure you’ve worked something out. Right?’

I strutted right up to Nora.

She could sense the aggression, the focus in my demeanor.

‘You’re gonna take your dress off? Right? Huh? Just like I was saying before?’

‘Yes I told you I would but only if you promise. Just like I was saying before too, you don’t rape me in front of Kitty. You don’t make my daughter watch.’

‘What if I rape her in front of you instead? How would that be?’

‘No. No, of course not. You know that wouldn’t be acceptable.’

‘So look, I don’t give a shit which one of you it is. My cock’s got a real itch and if it doesn’t feel some pussy lips around it soon, real soon, I’m gonna get mean. Really mean. Understand? And I’m sure Kitty will be tighter than you.’

I stepped towards the younger, trembling woman.

‘No. No. OK, no. Look. Look, I’m taking my dress off. Leave her alone. Look.’

She wriggled out of her party dress and let it fall to the floor around her ankles. Normally she would have treated it like

spun-gold but since it was already ruined from my knife cut across the bust she didn’t care that she stepped on it.

Her bra was a marvel. Even though it was strapless, it was thin and near see-through. Her nipples were normal with tight, hard, encircling little areolas. Nothing puffy about her nerps. Her panties were the rest of a matched set. Again, near see-through and very light, feminine pink. She didn’t shave herself but still her bush was tidy and trim just like the rest of her was.

Page 21.

She was so focused on me not attacking Kitty anymore that she’d forgotten to cry or even tremble but when I left off confronting Kitty to attend to Nora’s display, she became more scared and self-conscious about her near nakedness and vulnerability. She tried her best to look brave and strong, even defiant, but her lower lip and chin quivered and were giving her fears away.

I moved to within five feet of her and stood like a vision of authority looking her up and down and up.

‘Not fucking bad. Not fucking bad at all. How old are you anyway? I mean you’re her fucking mother and she’s gotta be forty-five.’ I motioned to Kitty.

(Calista Flockhart, born Nov. 11, 1964.)

The thing was I already knew she was over sixty but could easily pass for forty-five too.

(Sally Field, born Nov. 6, 1946.)

Nora’s face contorted more.

‘I’m old enough to know you shouldn’t be doing this and you are too. That you have no right and that you should leave us alone.’

‘Dressed like that, or undressed like that, you think I’m gonna leave you alone? Get real.’

Her face contorted and quivered more and her eye lids batted rapidly.

I decided to tease her.

‘What is it? What is it? What are you crying for?’

‘I’m not crying.’ She protested with a quavering voice that caught in her throat.

‘Maybe not yet but you’re pretty fucking close to tears. Right?’

She calmed herself and sucked in a deep breath of courage (and foolishness) to inform me, ‘I’m not going to let you make me cry. I won’t. I’m scared. I’ve never done this before.’

‘What? Stood in front of a man in your underwear?’

‘No. No, not that. Of course I’ve done that before. I’ve  just never been forced to before. That’s why I’m scared. Surely you can understand and accept that.’

‘So what if I do? What difference is it supposed to make?’

Page 22.

She gave me a plaintive, sad look.

‘The difference that you see me as a person and understand me as a human being, both of us, and you don’t do anymore horrible things to us. That’s what I want you to see.’

‘Y’know what I’d rather see? I’d rather see your nipples out so take off your bra.’

Nora was catching on.

She gave me a shape, piercing look but took the bra off right away. She new it didn’t hide anything anyway.

I groaned.

‘Oh fuck. What, you about a thirty-four C? Huh?’

She simply glared at me.

‘Give me your bra. Hand it to me.’

I was only five feet away in front of her.

She extended her hand tentatively and I accepted the garment and looked at the label inside.

‘Right. Fucking on right. I got it right. Says thirty-four C here. Damn I’m good. I really know my tit sizes.’ I paused to gloat at her. ‘How come she’s so flat when you’ve got so much body to your tits? You sure she’s your daughter? Maybe she’s adopted.’

‘Go to Hell. Stop being so mean and insensitive, disgusting. Go to Hell.’

‘Maybe when I compare cunts, maybe then I see the similarity. Right?’

Of course Nora had no way of knowing I’d heard Kitty lamenting her hangy-out minora labia and Nora clearly didn’t have the same, not that I could make out through the sheer, stretchy fabric at her panties’ crotch. So that would prove to be a bigger hoot and difference to be exploited.

‘Anyway, so you’re almost there. Give me your panties.’

She had maintained a facade of strength and dignity, believing the woman in her, the femininity in her soul, would carry her through but she could not surrender the last vestige of protection covering her intimacy. Her vagina belonged to her and she could not surrender it without some level of protest. She could not surrender it at all, she then knew, so her plan to seduce me seemed pretty much skuppered and doomed.

Page 23.

She began to tremble remarkably and her legs jiggled at the inner top thighs. She was near to pissing her panties and I didn’t want them soiled.

‘You piss yourself and I swear I’ll make Kitty lick it up. You understand?’

She scrunched her bladder muscles shut and squeezed her vagina tight.

‘Now give me your fucking underwear, the rest of it.’

She swayed and resisted. She was going to lose her balance.

‘I can’t. I can’t. I just can’t. I’m sorry. I can’t.’

‘You’re sorry? Really? If you don’t, it’s her that’ll be sorry.You want her to lose another nipple? Or worse? You want me to cut her vagina? Maybe even burn it?’

‘No. God, no. No don’t. Don’t make me. Don’t threaten her to make me. Please. Don’t. Just leave us alone.’

I decided to change the topic while keeping on the subject.

‘Did she, did Kitty ever tell you how she came to lose her nipple? The one that’s gone? The one that got away? Did she?’

I knew she hadn’t.

Nora shook her head and looked even more fearful.

She didn’t want to hear any account.

‘Well maybe I should tell you. It’s quite a story and maybe it’ll help you to co-operate better, so let’s see. Let’s see if I can go back an hour or two.’

Nora twisted her face and Kitty contorted hers.

‘Y’know that compared to you, she’s a mouthy bitch. She’s a know-it-all. She thinks she knows it all. Isn’t that right, Kitty?’ I called out to her.

‘You bastard. You miserable miscreant. What’s wrong with you? It’s bad enough what you did to me, you did already, stop tormenting my mother with it. Stop it you misfit creep.’

‘Geeze, I must say, you’re getting better at the name calling. You’ve almost got it down to an art but not a science. Better leave the really detailed stuff to me.’

It sort of went over her head that I considered her an amateur.

I addressed Nora again.

‘Y’now if she’d've kept her fucking mouth shut, just like now she didn’t, checked, kept her attitudes in check, she’d still  have her nipple. Dumb feminist cunt of a daughter you have.’

Page 24.

‘I taught her to be strong. I taught her to stand up for herself.’

Nora defied me with her assertions.

‘That you did and that you did well, the way you taught her. Too bad you didn’t teach her to be sensible and pragmatic. Y’know, when to be flexible.’

‘Everything I could, I taught her the best I could. I did my best as her mother.’

‘Yeah, whatever. So you know I separated you two when I got you here. You already know that. So I took Kitty off into another room, a bedroom actually, and the moment she saw the bed she got uppity, all uppity. If I recall she said something like, “If you think you’re getting me on there, you’re crazy.” Yeah,  that’s exactly what she said, “If you think I’m getting on that bed with you, you’re crazy.” So I suggested she should give her attitude a second thought, like an adjustment and she suggested I should live in Hell which wasn’t very charitable since I hadn’t done anything to her, at least not yet or then.’

‘You hadn’t done anything?’ Kitty piped up. ‘You’d kidnapped us and brought  us here against our wills and you say you hadn’t done anything? You’re deluded. You’re sick.’

‘Enough from the peanut gallery unless you want to finish the story. Do you? Do you Kitty?’

She shook her head, no.

‘Didn’t think so, so don’t interrupt again or you’ll have to.’

I was sure she muttered, ‘You can’t make me’ and something about a pig’s eye but I let it pass. I’d deal with her severely later. I just knew she was in for a minora labia-ectomy and Nora was going to assist. Man could I fantasize their screams in my mind.

‘So anyway, you wouldn’t believe how she slagged me, how she starts in on me. I mean you’d think she was a fucking lawyer or something like the Ally McBeal bitch on TV, so I says to her put a lid on it or I’d cut her tit off. That was before I saw how little she had. Fucking pancake tits. There’s hardly a decent meal there. So anyway I tells her to strip and she’s  even worse  than you. She don’t want me to see her twat. I can’t imagine why. I mean she’s a good looking woman so she’s going to have a good looking cunt. Right?’

Page 25.

Nora looked at me dumbfounded.

‘Right?’ I repeated.

She nodded and said, ‘Yes. OK. Right.’

‘Anything I should know about her vagina? Anything you want to tell me?’

Nora’s eyes grew narrow with suspicion and calculation.  How could my question be so pointed without prior direction? Something smelled fishy and it wasn’t their humid cunts.

‘Go to Hell, you despicable bastard. Go straight to Hell.’

‘I’ll take that as a no, then. I hope you’re not lying to me. Y’know, like lying by ommission.’

She felt she should say something but how does a mother describe her daughter’s sloppy, untidy cunt to a murdering, mutilating rapist. Where would she start? What would she say?’

Nora took my inference seriously, my verbal threat to heart.

She believed I was a misfit of my word.

‘Kitty’s vagina is unusual and it’s my fault.’ She blurted out.

‘Mom. No, Mom, don’t.’ Kitty cried out.

‘Really? How so?’ I asked Nora like I had no idea.

‘I’m sure you’re going to find out anyway from the way you’re behaving, from how you’re treating us, so I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you. I have to tell you.’

‘Mmooomm. Mmooomm, don’t. Please don’t.’

‘It’s alright sweetheart. Mother knows best. Her minora labia protrude from her majora labia.’

I gave my head a shake.

She’d actually said it.

Fuck was I in control.

‘Oh shit, Mom. No shit. You almost made me spunk my pants. You mean she has an outie, like with shit hanging out between her lips?’

‘I mean she’s formed differently than some women. She’s formed differently than me.’

‘And you’re sure, as I said, she’s your daughter?’

‘Of course, I gave birth to her. Of course I am.’

‘OK, good on you for honesty. We’ll have to see about that later. So back to how Kitty lost her nip tip. I didn’t take it all, y’know. I don’t know if you saw that. Did you?’

Page 26.

‘I saw it. I noticed it.’

‘Y’know why? Why I didn’t take it all?’

Nora’s face twisted in fury and hatred. She remembered what Kitty had told her and it was the ultimate in despicable as far as she was concerned. She would not offer an answer.

Of course I knew she knew so I gave her an inspired, superior look.

‘OK, never mind. I can see you’re upset.’

‘Since when did that matter to you? Huh? Since when?’

I looked at her like she was no more than a bug to be squished or a cunt-roach to be hammered.

‘Fuck you. So like I was saying, like Kitty ditty, she sees the bed and says, no way. No way on the bed, so I tells her either on the bed or on the floor. I didn’t care which where. So you know what she says next? No, of course you don’t.  Well she lies to me, isn’t that right miss high and mighty liar Kitty? Tell you mom what you lied to me.’

Kitty locked eyes with me and could tell I was dead, as in murder, serious.

‘Mom, I told him I had my period. That’s what I said to him.’

‘Fucking lied about it, didn’t you? Said you were on the rag when you weren’t. That’s the oldest, dumbest trick in the book that a woman often uses when she’s about to be raped and wanna know another? AIDS. They fucking claim their twats are infected with AIDS and you know how I respond to that?’

They both looked non-plussed.

‘I offer to burn it out of them. To burn the fucking AIDS right out of their cunts and you never seen a faster cure. I mean, oops, all of a sudden the disease has gone, disappeared in a poof like a lie being untold. HIV positive shit. Of course that doesn’t stop me from still burning them later, roasting their fucking cervixes as retribution for them lying to me. So what do you think? Kitty, should you look forward to that? What do you thing Mother superior Nora? Should I burn the pussy out of your baby, for lying?’

Nora trembled and tried to measure her response.

‘Please, you have to stop. You must stop. None of this is right so you have to..’

‘Cease and desist?’ Is that how they say it on the cop shows?’ I taunted her.

Page 27.

‘Please. Please. Just stop.’

‘Yeah. OK. So anyway back to how Kitty lost the end of her bud. I’m getting pretty horny seeing her shivering there so close to the edge of the bed and my pecker can imagine grinding away inside of her. I mean I really wanted to split her labia. I took her by the arm to force her onto the mattress and Kitty twisted violently and managed to elbow me in the gut. I mean she got super strong and winded me. She went to bolt for the door but it was bolted so she had nowhere to run to. She really thought I was mad. I guess I certainly looked it but it was all an act. I fucking love it when a bitch fights and Kitty wanted to prove she could out-wrestle or perhaps out-box me. Well.. Fucking well.. Tell her Kitty. Tell her what happened next.’

Kitty raised her cheeky chin at me and her jaw trembled. She remembered only too well but had no intention of repeating it to her mom who was watching her daughter with dismay and pity.

She got stupidly spunky.

‘Go to Hell. You know what you did. Go to Hell you miserable little excuse for a worm.’

‘Come on. That’s not nice. Not nice at all. Fucking tell her.’

‘Go to Hell.’ Kitty persisted.

‘Fine. Fine, I’ll show Nora, I’ll show your mom what happened instead.’

I moved in on the older woman.

‘No. No. OK, no. Don’t. OK, I’ll tell.’

‘Thought you might.’ I gloated back to her. Actually gloated back to them both.

‘Mom. Mom, I made such a mistake.  I thought he was really mad. It seemed like he was so I was even more scared but I was angry too. Why hadn’t I seen that the door, bedroom door, was bolted and that I couldn’t run to escape. I was really disturbed with myself so I tried to keep up the momentum. Y’know, keep up an offensive, an attack,  so I ran at him again. He may not look it, but he’s very agile. I don’t know, maybe he works out or something but as I arrived to clout him again he did a small side-step, like he deeked me and he punched me. He punched me really hard in.. God in.. God he struck my vagina. He punched it. Oh God, he did. And he did it so mean and hard.’

Page 28.

‘Oh Kitty. Oh Kitty sweetheart. Oh my precious. – You miserable bastard. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hope you die. You deserve to die.’

‘I’m sure you do and I’m sure you should.’ I replied with a smirk and a lilt in my voice. ‘So anyway, yeah, she got that right. I planted my fist right into her pussy. Fuck did she fold. Fuck did she ever stagger and collapse and it was nothing to grab her to hoist her onto the bed.’

‘You raped her. You raped her? Kitty you didn’t tell me he raped you.’

‘No, Mom, no, because he didn’t. I wish he had instead.’

‘Yeah, fucking right she wishes that. So I did follow her onto the bed, bounced onto the mattress already to tear her clothes off and the cunt hadn’t learned. Not a fucking thing. She twisted and hoofed me in the goolies. I don’t know how she got her feet around so fast and into position for such an accurate shot but she folded me right over again. I mean, Kitty you’re a fucking little scraper. Aren’t you? Take after your mom here, do you?’

‘Go to Hell.’

‘Fine. We’ll see. We’ll find out about that. You a fighter too, Nora? You fight as good as your bitch, arrogant daughter?’

It was a challenge.

Or was it an invitation?

Nora sensed the change in my tone. A change in my attitude, even though it was only slightly perceptible. But she was worried I was gearing up for more and probably greater violence against Kitty so she needed to shut me down and failing that at least to divert me.

‘I know who you are. I know what you’re doing. My daughter is not a bitch. She is not arrogant. She’s never been a bitch and you have no right to degrade her like that. Yes, I’m a fighter. Yes I am. I taught Kitty to stand up for herself. I already told you that. So I taught her how to be strong because I know how to be strong too. You think she was a fighter? I’ll show you what it means if I get the chance.’

‘What, you want me to give you the chance to fight me?’

Nora looked shocked.

Page 29.

She hadn’t meant that expressly. What she’d meant was if I was careless and she ever got the chance to be free, then she’d show me who knew how to fight and who didn’t. But she was fast on her feet and sensed an in.

‘You wouldn’t fight me. Not fairly. Bullies like you never allow… You wouldn’t fight me in a fair contest.’

I eyed her trying to look as suspicious as she was looking suspicious at me.

I’d set many women up for such a contest before and I didn’t want Nora getting a whiff that she was being maneuvered into an inescapable boxing-ring corner. That she was on the ropes before she even started.

‘You really think you could mount a credible effort? You think you’re strong enough to do that?’

‘There’s only one way you can find out. Right? Only one way you can ever see for sure.’

‘Hhmm. Fuck. Hhmm. Interesting. Fucking sounds interesting.’

Kitty cried out. ‘Mom. No, Mom. You can’t be serious. No. He’s evil. God he won’t play by any rules of decency. No Mom, you can’t.’

‘Now you know she’s right. I mean if we fight it’ll be no holds barred. Nothing’s off limits, nothing’s off the table or the floor, so to say.’

‘Just give me a chance. Give me the chance and I’ll show you how much I care about rules of civility. How much I care about my daughter.’

‘No Marquis of Queensbury shit for you? Huh?’

‘Just let me and I’ll show you. You’ll see.’

‘Y’know I just might take you up on that. Could be interesting. I’ll give it some thought. Meanwhile let me finish telling you how Kitty lost the end of her nipple.’

Nora looked disappointed. She thought she had diverted me from the terrible tale but I was ready to begin re-accounting.

‘So Kitty hoofed me in the balls, in the goolies, like I said and I had no choice but to buckle over. I mean my balls aren’t made of brass, just flesh and lots of blood like any other guy’s are. So she sees it as an opportunity to try to escape, to go running out the door but unfortunately for her I’m blocking the way. But that doesn’t stop her from trying. She came running at me like a little steam engine with her long legs whirling and crashed into me to knock me to the floor. It doesn’t quite work, although almost, as I bang up against the wall. The door’s closed and she can’t wrench it open. At least I’d had the good sense to lock it. She fires over to a window but it has unbreakable glass in it. The stuff’s called Lexan and you can’t put a bullet through it. So all the while she’s trying to find a way out, I’m getting my act back together and I sucked up the pain in my groin and finally started back after her. I mean we played one helluva game of tag. Didn’t we Kitty?’

Page 30.

Kitty gave me a disgusted grunt.

‘Isn’t that right, Kitty? We played a decent game of tag?’

‘If you say so. I wasn’t playing. Only you were playing so if that counts I guess you could say you’re right. You’re still stupid and a monster and I hate you even more. You’re not going to fight with my mother. If you’re going to fight with anyone, it’s going to be me.’

‘Maybe the two of you? Maybe I should fight with the two of you at once?’

They could not hide their hope.

They could not conceal the prospect of their good fortune.

Whatever else came to be, they had to entice me into fighting the two of them at once.

They exchanged deep glances of intrigue and plotting.

‘You’d never do that. You don’t have the courage to fight just one of us.’ Nora piped in. ‘Let alone facing a mother and daughter together. I know you’re not that brave. I know you’re not that stupid.’

‘Geeze, you’re giving me an awful lot to think about, but we’ll see. We’ll see later. So to continue, I finally got my shit back together and Kitty could tell I was more than pissed. As I got in close to her in a corner she made a desperate flight to sail by me and I grabbed onto her thin, fine, long blonde hair. I mean she’s lucky she isn’t fucking bald. I ripped back on it so hard she flew off her feet and landed on her ass, on her fucking tail bone on the hardwood floor. No carpet there to soften the blow. The crack to the end of her spine, really did it. It fucking stunned her and I had no trouble

re-dragging her to the bed and hoisting her up onto the mattress again. All the while pulling her by the hair with her legs kicking and wielding about. On the bed I smacked her head to the bed post. It dazed her. Kitty went woozy but not out cold. So I took a firm hold of her chest and right away I knew she had no tits. I mean how could you make a daughter, an adult woman, with so little tit meat? Huh? You proud of that, that you spawned a titless daughter?’

‘You vile, vile monster. Go to Hell. You despicable bastard. Let me loose so I can send you to Hell.’

‘We’ll see. Not yet though. We’ll see.’

Page 31.

‘You’re disgusting. I hate you.’ Nora shot back.

‘Yeah, that I am. So anyway I had to find out. I mean I’m trying to use her its for handles to lift her but there’s nothing to grip onto so I had to see. I ripped her party dress away and she’s got this stupid little bra on. I mean she doesn’t even need a fucking training bra so I guess it was just to hide her nipples. That right Kitty? You didn’t want your pokies poking out? Guess you don’t have to worry about that now for one of them, huh?’

At that point all the two women could tell me to do was go to Hell.

‘Go to Hell, you despicable bastard. You didn’t have to hurt me like that just because my breasts weren’t up to your expectations. You had no right. You didn’t.’

‘Yeah, but it was fun. Was it ever delightful.’

‘For you maybe. But not for me and I know you know that.’

‘So ask me if I care? Ask me if I fucking care.’

‘I know you don’t. You don’t care but you should. If you were any kind of a human being you would.’

‘Whatever, so why don’t you tell your mom what happened next? Why don’t you share it with her?’

‘Uh uh. No. No, I won’t. You’re telling the story. You’re the one getting off on it, so no, I won’t.’

I trotted over to Kitty with intent on my mind.

I took hold of her face by gripping her cheeks.

I planted a mean kiss on her reluctant, fighting lips.

I stated my purpose clearly and slowly.

‘Tell her. Tell her now or one of her nipples comes off now.’

Kitty’s face defied me but her mouth started to work.

‘Mom. Mom, he… Mom, when he saw my bra, he almost had a fit. For some reason it fascinated him and he told be to take it off carefully, that he wanted to keep it as a souvenir. Mom, I should have listened. I know I should have, but my anger got the better of me and I tore it off. It ripped across the front and through a cup and as I threw it at him he punched me in a breast. God Mom, he punched me for the first time in my breast.’

Page 32.

‘I hate you. I hate you.’ Nora screamed out towards me but mostly it bounced off the ceiling.

‘Look Mom, it’s getting boring. You’ve already established that, that you hate me so come up with something more original or shut the fuck up. So continue Kitty. Tell her some more.’

‘I hate you too.’ Kitty added uselessly.

‘I will pop her nipple in a heart beat if you don’t continue. Believe me. You want that?’

‘No. No. OK, no. Yes I threw the damaged bra at him and as he examined it he told me I would pay. That I was gonna pay for being so impulsive and contrary. That my breasts were gonna pay. Then he noticed. God, Mom, I couldn’t help it. From the fear and the cold, my nipples got erect. They got hard. I couldn’t stop it nor help myself and right away he zeroed in on them. That was the start of him cutting one off.’

Kitty looked at me like maybe I should finish telling the story. It would be too difficult for her to go on.

No such luck.

I gave her a smirk.

‘Go on.’

‘Please. Please, you finish. I can’t.’

‘Then your mom can’t keep a nipple.’

‘OK. OK.’ She blubbered as she continued. ‘Like I said he focused on them and started insulting me and saying degrading and horrible things about the size of my breasts. Like he has said to you too about them being so small that a young girl would have more. You know, you know Mom, how sensitive I am about that. How sensitive I’ve always been and I spat back at him. I couldn’t help myself, he made me so mad and furious showing such disrespect for my person, for the woman who I am and so somehow it got around to him saying maybe he should cut one of them off. He meant one of my breasts off but then made his sick joke that it would be impossible since there was so little there. Y’know, of course, then he played on how easily a nipple could come off instead. He made sick, terrible, horrible jokes about how it would hardly damage me and how I could easily go on living without one. God he was a monster. An impossible creep.’

Page 33.

‘I was a monster. Wasn’t I?’ I interjected proudly.

‘And you still are. You’re despicable and I hate you more than I can ever say.’ Kitty retorted.

‘So don’t say and finish the fucking story. Your tale of tit woe.’

‘Mom. Mom, once he said about cutting a nipple off instead, I couldn’t get him to change the subject, to get him off the idea or topic. It didn’t matter what I said he just stayed focused on it. I even offered to let him rape me but nothing would dissuade him.’

‘Oh baby. Oh my sweet baby.’ Nora cried out softly to her.

‘So that’s where it got to. He told me he was going to do it for sure and that he had to get the right, God, he called them tools. Tools. That he had to get tools to cut one of my nipples off. He left and came back with surgical instruments he said he got off the Internet, scalpels mostly, but forceps and clamps too. I couldn’t believe what he was showing me.’

‘Pretty decent stuff. Weren’t they?’ I added.

‘Go to Hell. – Mom, I started to cry. I couldn’t help it but it only turned him on more. He said he loved how it made my meager chest jiggle but he wanted to see me screaming too. He said he wanted to see my tonsils. It really scared me so as he finally got around to nearing me to actually do it, I stuck out at him again. I had to. What choice did I have?’

‘None, sweetheart. I’m sure you had none.’ Nora supported her.

‘No I didn’t but I wasn’t very good. I was so scared seeing the scalpel in his hand and when I tried to kick him, I only kicked the air but he punched me again and you know where.’

‘You loathsome, impossible bastard. I swear. I swear I will kill you.’ Nora fired her promise at me again.

‘We’ll see about that. In a bit we’ll see but for now, your fucking cunt daughter’s about to get to the best part. Go on Kitty, finish telling her the best.’

‘Mom, he pinned me. He dragged me off the bed by my hair and pinned me to the floor as I doubled over and held the scalpel to my throat, right to my jugular vein. He told me he’d slit my windpipe and I’d bleed to death if I didn’t hold still. I had to. I had to freeze. He, God, he. God he, he pinched my nipple out and was ready to cut it off when he stopped. I mean, I had no idea. How could any woman? He handed me the scalpel.’

Page 34.

My boner was getting firmer just hearing her recount what had happened then.

‘What? OK. Yes. OK.’ Nora knew what was coming next.

‘He told me. He told me I had to do it myself. To myself. He told me I had to cut my own nipple off.’

‘Baby. Baby, sweetheart. Mommy’s here. Your mother’s here.’

‘I tried. As impossible as it sounded and was, I really tried and when he saw I was never going to succeed, that I threw the scalpel away, that’s when he made the horrible threats about what he would do to you if I didn’t. I tried, I tried again but it hurt way too much.’

I trotted over to Nora.

‘Fucking little cunt, really let you down. Didn’t she?’

Nora slapped my hand away from her face.

‘I will kill you. I swear I will.’ Nora had unqualified hatred for me.

‘So good. Wonderful. I think you’ll make one hell of an effort to try, so anyway I think I’ll finish the story. I mean Kitty got it right. Right on. Like she said, the first thing I threatened to do was to cut your nipples off instead. Both your fucking nippers. Think you could live without them? Humm mommy dearest?’

‘I can do whatever it takes to defeat you. That’s what I can do.’

‘Yeah, I suppose, so when I told Kitty about slicing your nips off I figured it’d turn the trick and she’d do her own off but no such luck so I figured I had to up the ante, like make the stakes more severe, so I told her what I would do to your cunt. Your cunt. Your fucking pussy. That I’d torture it inside out. That really freaked her so she tried harder but still no nippy off.’

I placed my hand to Nora’s throat and squeezed on her wind pipe. I lowered my other hand to grope her crotch. My eyes narrowed and my grip tightened.

‘You want me to torture your cunt? You want me to spread your legs and mutilate your womanly vagina? Huh?’

Nora twisted her hips in a circle.

Kitty cried out for me to leave her alone.

I didn’t as I pressed my thumb into the crack of her crease.

Page 35.

‘I’ll tell you what I told her so you can make up your mind.’

‘Stop it. Stop it. You’re hurting me. Stop it.’

‘No shit. You think that hurts? What about this?’

I found the nub of her clit and dug my thumbnail into it.

She shrieked and jerked her ass back.

I twisted on her nub and pulled it forward as her bum shot back.

‘Hold still. Fucking hold still or I’ll cut it off. I swear.’

Nora froze with her vagina in my hand.

‘So yeah, I told Kitty I’d tie you down. I’d tie you down good and tight and spread your legs so far you’d think your hip joints were going to dislocate. Then I’d come at your vagina with the scalpel. I’d cut into your clit, – fucking like how I’m pinching it? Do you?’

‘Stop it. Stop it. Please stop it. You’re hurting me.’

‘Stop it. Stop it. Please stop it. You’re hurting her.’ Kitty echoed her mom.

‘So anyway then I got down and dirty. I told her that I could burn your clit too. That I could apply a soldering iron to it and fry the crisp out of it. And then came the really good stuff about your cervix. That I have speculums and I can open your canal and burn and pierce your cervix. That sound appealing to you? It certainly didn’t to Kitty. And finally I told her I’d insert great big firecrackers into you and blow your vix clear into your uterus. Now wouldn’t that be a fireworks show to end all womanly matters? Huh?’

‘You’re sick. You’re the most degenerate person I’ve ever heard of.’

‘I’ll take that as a compliment. So I mean I’ve told her all that and still, still the selfish little cunt bitch, she won’t cut her own nipple off. What the fuck would it take? What do you suppose?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t know. It’s not at all possible. I don’t know.’

‘No you don’t because there was nothing. It all ended so fast for her. I came back to do it to her and she fought and flailed like a banshee. She would not let me proceed. I kicked her. Right, Kitty, I kicked you?’

Page 36.

‘Ohh God. God ohh. Ohh God. God, no, my precious baby.’

‘Yeah, I hoofed her alright. I’m surprised I didn’t crack some ribs under her nipples. I fucking booted her chest. But the one to her pussy, my fist I mean, that’s the one that sent her out cold.’

‘I hate you. I’ll kill you. God, let me kill him.’

‘So now Nora, now ladies, we get to the good part. We get to the surprise. The whole thing, the whole fucking thing, I got it on video and now we’re gonna watch it together.’

They looked stunned.

Completely flabbergasted.

‘You.. What? What? You.. You mean you’ve been making us, making me recount all this when you  recorded it? What? When? How could you? I didn’t see any cameras.’ Kitty was beside herself.

‘You incredible monster. What’s wrong with you? Have you no shred of human decency?’ Nora added to the cacophony.

‘I’m just full of surprises. Aren’t I? So whatever, let me show you the vid. Show you the best part of all. I wanna see it anyway. I haven’t watched it yet.’

The women objected uselessly but predictably as I got the TV screen all set up where they both could readily see it. I set the unit to play with remote control in hand. It started to roll as they used to say in the olden days of film.

I let it start at the beginning where I’d shoved Kitty roughly into the bedroom and she said just as I’d already told them, ‘If you think you’re getting me on the bed, you’re crazy.’ Of course I had a good memory for those kinds of first words. I zipped the fast forward to where I’d returned to the bedroom with the scalpels and other funky and sundry tools.

‘Fuck. Fuck we gotta look at that. That’s a good place to start. Give me a sec while I rewind it.’

I got it back to where Kitty took her wild kicks at me as I approached her with a scalpel but she only connected with the air.

I could see clearly why I punched her cunt since I hadn’t really intended to. Her dress had ridden up and her power blue panties were stretched so tightly across her labia and my eye caught a glimpse of her crinkly stuff hanging out of the center of her crease. Of course, all under the privacy of the double fabric of the silk gusset of her undies. It was like my hand was on a spring, like a, ha ha, Jack-in-the-box only it would be a Jack’s-fist-into-the-box.

Page 37.

‘Ooofff. Fucking Hell, would you look at that? Fucking look how my fist connected with her labia. Fuck Nora, what do you think of that? I guess she shouldn’t have shown me her panties. Huh? She should have had more modesty. Right Kitty? You should have kept your snatch to yourself?’

‘You scum. You scum. We’ll kill you. You scum.’ Nora wailed out. Kitty was just embarrassed.

‘Fuck I gotta rewind that. I wanna see it in slow motion, y’know like freeze framed.’

I did the slo-mo thing and could freeze the frame where my knuckle penetrated the deepest into her slit. It showed her labia splay out and my knuckle burrow in. I left it frozen there.

I went to see Nora.

‘So what do you think of that? Huh? That’s your fucking precious daughter with her cunt almost ruptured. Look, she’s all doubled over. She can hardly breath and she’s convulsing. What do you think of that?’

Nora took a swing at me.

I gripped her striking hand and twisted it down to force into her own crotch. I pulled it back and made her punch her own vagina. I pulled it back farther.

Kitty wailed out, ‘No stop it. Stop it. Finish showing us the video instead.’

I pressed Nora’s hand hard to her crease and slid it up and down along her slit, like she was pleasuring herself. I smelled her palm.

‘Fucking right. That’s what I gotta do. I gotta finish showing you the video.’

I got up and gave Nora a light back hand to the face and resumed with the remote control.

‘Oh look. Fucking look. She’s barely conscious. Look how I pulled her off the bed by her hair. Isn’t that sweet, ladies?’

They didn’t concur.

‘So there, look. I’ve got her on the floor and there’s the scalpel, right at your throat Kitty. You really thought I was gonna slit your neck, didn’t you? Open up your windpipe. Look how you’re fucking begging me not to kill you. What a sap. What a baby.’

Page 38.

‘You scum. You bastard. You scum.’ Kitty derided me.

‘Oh fuck there it is. Fuck and fucking shit look how I’ve got your nipple. Like fuck, pulled way out from your tit or at least what you’ve got that passes for a tit. Fucking sweet. Fucking delicious. And there it is. There it is. There, I give the scalpel to you. Let’s hear the words. Let’s pay attention to them. Let’s hear it louder.’

I increased the volume using the remote.

(Me: Kitty: Are the direct words from the recording. A line space has been left when switiching back and forth from the recording and what the women watching it (and me) are saying.)

Me:     ‘Here. Here bitch. It’s too fucking easy if I cut it off. You do it. You do it to yourself. You cut your own fucking nipple off.’

Kitty:  ‘No God. No God. No God, I can’t. You must be crazy. No don’t. No . No. For God’s sake, no.’

Me:     ‘Take the fucking scalpel.’

Kitty:  ‘No, God please. Don’t make me.’

Me:     ‘Take it or I’ll cut your cunt open’ (I’d forgotten I’d said that to her so she took the scalpel.)

Kitty:  ‘Please. Please. Please stop no.’

Me:     ‘Pull your fucking nipple out and do it. Just fucking do it.’

‘Awh look at that. Look at the little bitch crying.’ I interjected into the playback as Kitty took the scalpel in the video.

‘Awh shit sweet. Fucking sweet. Look how you’re pinching yourself. I mean you’ve even got your fingernails dug into your nipple. Fucking sweet.’ I interjected anew.

Me:     ‘That’a girl. You’re doing good. Pull it out. Pull it fucking way out and get the knife to the side.’

Kitty:  ‘I can’t. God, God, I can’t.’

Me:     ‘Fucking right you can. Just put the knife to the side and start sawing. Start sawing it off.’

Kitty:  ‘You’re crazy. You’re insane. No woman can do that to herself. You can’t make any woman do it. No. No, I won’t.’

At that point in our exchange she tossed the scalpel at me trying to take out my eye. She only missed my head by a yard.

Me:     ‘Fuck. Fuck you cunt. That wasn’t very smart. Not very nice. You could have blinded me. That what you were trying to do? Huh? To take out my eye?’

Kitty:  ‘Go to Hell. You miserable, impossible bastard, go to Hell. I wish I had.’

Page 39.

Me:     (As I retrieved the tossed tool.) ‘Very well. Fucking last chance. Here take it. Take it again. This is your very last chance. Now do it. Or I’ll start on your mother. Now do it and when you’re finished hand me your severed nipple.’

Kitty:  ‘Oh God. Oh God. How am I supposed to do it? God help me. God help me, why?’

Me:     ‘Here, take it. I swear, you throw it again and I’ll cut your cunt and then go to work on your mom’s.’

Her hand reached out and she could barely see it for the veil of tears overwhelming her eyes. She placed the blade very specifically to her bud and pulled her nipple out really far, more than before.

Me:     ‘That’a girl. That’s a girl. Just saw away at it and it’ll come off in no time.’

Kitty:  ‘God. What? God. Look. There’s blood. There’s a trickle of blood. No. No, I can’t. No, God, I can’t do any more.’

Me:      ‘OK, enough of this shit. Fine. Fucking fine I’ll tell you. Give me the knife. I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do to your mom now. Fucking stupid cunt bitch of a daughter. She’ll wish she never had you.’

Kitty:   ‘No. No, I don’t want to hear. No.’

Me:      ‘So first right up, one of her nips comes off. Right the fuck off and then later the other one. But I’ll tell her. She’ll know for sure after one’s gone the other one goes too. Y’know anticipation being the best part of tit torture or any other kind of sexual torture and mutilation for that matter. Build the fear, the dread. Y’know.’

Kitty:  ‘No. No, you can’t. No. Not to my dear mother. No you can’t. She’s too special and precious to me. She’s too wonderful.’

Me:     ‘Oh no? Fucking no? That’s just the beginning for her. Next will be her cunt. Her fucking vagina. You have no idea how I’ll ruin her pussy wack.’

Kitty:  ‘No. No, God no. Give me the scalpel back. I’ll do it. I’ll do it. Let me try again.’

Me:     ‘Very well, but last chance.’

Kitty takes the scalpel and tries to attack her nipple but at the next sight and feel of blood she can’t go on. The nerve endings in her bud are simply too on fire and besides her vanity doesn’t want to see her tit messed up. Her breast was barely adequate enough to begin with.

Kitty:  ‘Oh God. Oh God. Give me the strength to do it, God. (She saws gingerly) God. God, why can’t I do it?’ (She drops the scalpel down and hangs her head down too lower. Her delicate shoulders shudder and shake.)

Page 40.

Me:     ‘Because you’re a fucking coward. That’s why. Nothing but a useless, fucking, chicken-shit coward.’

Kitty:  ‘No. No, that’s not true but I can’t. God forgive me. I just can’t. Mom forgive me.’

Me:     ‘Yeah, you got that right. But I don’t think she’ll ever forgive you because the first thing I’m gonna do to get at her cunt is tie her down. Tie her down so tight to the bed with her legs spread so wide she’ll think her hips are going to dislocate at the joints. Sounds like fun, huh? Bust her hips.’

Kitty:  ‘No. No. No. No. Not. No.’

Me:     ‘Oh yeah, and then her clit, her fucking clitoris. I’ll massage her and finger fuck her to get her good and full, y’know like engorged, like a fucking female hard on, and then the scalpel. I apply the scalpel to her g spot. Think that’ll give her an orgasm? Huh?’

Kitty:  ‘No. You’re sick. You’re so sick. No. No.’

Me:     ‘And burn her. Y’know what a soldering iron is? Sure you do. I’ll fucking heat one up and burn all the blood out of her lacerated clit.’

Kitty:  ‘No. God, no. How can you say such horrible, disgusting things? How? You can’t be human. How?’

Me:     ‘You think that’s bad? Huh? You know what a speculum is?’

Kitty:  ‘Yes, all women do.’

Me:     ‘So I have a bunch, a few of them. Right. So fuck, I pick the right one for the size of your mother’s cunt and I open her up and I fucking go at her cervix. I mean I pierce it and blunt it and bash at it until she screams for me to kill her but you know what I do? Huh? You know what I do next?’

Kitty:  ‘God. God. God. God. Where are you God?’

Me:     ‘Nowhere close to you, that’s for sure. So yea for the grand finale, fireworks.’

Kitty:  ‘Huh? What?’

Me:     ‘Fireworks. I stuff big cannon firecrackers, y’know the ones about five inches long and an inch in diameter, I stuff them into your dear mother’s cunt and blow her cervix into her uterus. Think she’d be able to have any more babies then? If she wasn’t already too old? Huh?’

Page 41.

Kitty:  ‘You’re sick. You’re the most degenerate person I’ve ever heard of. You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.’

Me:     ‘Think what you want. Anyway, I feel like a fuck. I feel like fucking you in the ass. You wanna get butt fucked? Buggered?’

I approach Kitty and she fights and flails like a banshee. The video doesn’t lie.

So I kicks her. The video doesn’t lie. I kicks her in the nipples. A boot for each one.

‘Oh fuck. Fuck Nora, would you look at that. Fucking look at that. Fuck I buried my foot right into her nipple. You can almost hear the ribs crack. Can’t you?’

‘You cowardly bastard. How could you? You miserable, cowardly bastard.’

‘Yeah, I guess. Oh fuck look at that. Fuck another boot to the other nipple. Look how her fucking skeleton, her fucking whole body, shudders. Lucky she didn’t have a heart attack. Right?’

‘I will kill you. I will murder you. I will kick you to death.’

‘Revenge huh? Yeah, sweet revenge. So here it comes, Nora. Here comes the one that really matters. Fuck. Fuck, look how she’s twisted around. God dammed stupid bitch can’t she see she shouldn’t expose her crotch that way. Oh fuck. Ooops, to late. Awh fuck, look how my fist connects with her labia. Look how her hips convulse.’

‘Kitty. Kitty. Kitty.’ Nora cried out.

‘Ooops to late. There she goes. There she goes. Look at her. Watch. There she goes, passing out. Yup. There she is unconscious.’

I put the video on frozen frame.

‘So Kitty. You watching this too? Huh? Here’s where it really gets good.’

‘Mom. God, Mom. I can’t. I can’t watch myself like that. That’s me. God, that’s me.’

I marched over to Kitty.

I gripped her face by squeezing her cheeks.

I kissed her mouth very meanly.

I assaulted her eyes with my glare.

Page 42.

‘You bitch. You cunt. You watch. You fucking watch or I’ll burn your eyes out. Huh? You want that? You wanna be blind?’

‘Stop it. Stop hurting her. Stop threatening her.’ Nora whined.

I pressed my hand to her nipple-less tit and ground it around.

‘You want more of this?’

Kitty cried but Nora screamed out, ‘Stop it. Leave her alone. Stop it.’

‘So you’ll watch then? Right?’

‘I’ll watch. I’ll watch. I’ll watch. OK. Yes.’ Nora complied.

‘Good, so lets get her rollin’ again.’

I took the video of freeze frame.

Me:   ‘Fuck bitch. I guess that hurt. Fucking right that hurt you good. Fuck it even hurt my fist.’

I rolled the unconscious Kitty slowly onto her back. I straightened her head so it wasn’t at such a cock-eyed angle and knelt over her to kiss her mouth.

Me:   ‘Fuck that tastes good. Fuck do you ever smell good. Fucking good enough to eat. Maybe I should eat your cunt out.’

I straightened her arms out so that they were pulled up above her head. I kissed each of her tits lightly. I gripped her rib cage. She hadn’t known for sure but I punched her hard in the flatness of her tit again.

‘Oh. Oh, God. No. How can you hit her while she’s unconscious? How could you?’ Nora screamed out at me.

‘Watch. Just watch and you’ll see.’

Me:   ‘Shit does that ever feel good. Fucking bitch you’ve really got it coming.’

I moved my hands down to her hips and pressed on her pelvis.

Me:   ‘Sweet. Fucking, fucking, huh, fucking sweet.’

I panted as I got to molesting her crotch.

Me:   ‘What you got in here? Sweet baby. What you got waiting for daddy?’

‘Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. No you didn’t. No God, you didn’t sexually assault me while I was unconscious. No. How could you?’

‘You got that wrong. How the fuck couldn’t I. A sweet fucking piece of cunt meat like you. Just laying there unconscious just waiting and asking for it.’

Page 43.

‘No. No. I didn’t. I didn’t. I did nothing to ask for it. You’re sick. You’re a pervert and a demented maniac, a sexual lunatic. No, it’s not my fault. None of it’s my fault.’

‘You’re right sweetheart. Kitty honey, you’re absolutely right.’ Nora supported her beliefs.

‘Who fucking cares. Look what happens next.’

Slowly I pulled the hem of her dress up. I left it bunched up just below her crotch line.

Me:   ‘Fuck. Fuck I love your legs. Fuck look how long they are. Fuck I bet they’ll break nice.’

‘No.You can’t. You can’t even think of hurting my baby’s lovely legs.’ Nora was close to losing it.

Me:   ‘OK. OK. Bitch. Bitch. Let’s see what you feel like inside. Better still lets see what you look like.’

Kitty starts to stir.

Me:   ‘What the? What the fuck? You coming too already? Fuck, I thought I’d have to use the smelling salts. OK. So what the? OK. I’ll get to your cunt later. Right now I’ve got a nipple to cut off.’

Kitty slowly regained her awareness.

Me:      ‘Hey. Hey. You back in the land of the living?’

Kitty:   ‘What? What? What are you doing? What have you been doing to me?’

Me:      ‘No more shitting. Your nipple’s coming off now. Right now or I go back and I kill her. I make you watch while I kill her. Your mother’s fucking dead.’

Kitty:   ‘No. No. God, no. You can’t. Please don’t kill her. Please don’t.’

Me:      ‘OK, maybe I won’t but I am going to hurt her. I’m fucking gonna hurt her like I told you but if you want her to stay alive, you fucking hold still. You hold still while I slice it off. That’s the only deal you’ve got goin’ now.’

Kitty:   ‘Please, I don’t want you to. I want you to have mercy. But I don’t want you to kill my mother either. So if that’s what you have to do, what you must do, then get it over with.’

Nora cried out, ‘Baby. Baby. Oh my precious baby. God, no. No. God, God, God, no.’

‘Mom. It’s OK. It’s OK, Mom. I agreed to do what I had to do so he wouldn’t kill you. I had to do it. You’re my mother. I had to do it. I had to let him.’

Page 44.

‘I can’t. God, I can’t watch. God, I don’t want to see. Oh God help me. I can’t look and see.’

I re-froze the video.

I marched over to Nora.

I pinched her cheeks the same as I’d done to Kitty and kissed Nora even meaner.

I pressed my hand to her more ample chest.

‘Your nipples are gone. They’re fucking mine. You wanna be blind? You wanna be blind?’

‘Stop. Stop it. Stop hurting me. Stop terrorizing me. Terrorizing us.’

I drove the palm of my hand against her nipple.

And pushed up against her fullness.

‘Fucking cunt, I oughta cut your whole tit off. Not just your nipples, your fucking whole tits. Huh? A double mastectomy. That sound good to you?’

‘Stop. Stop. Stop hurting my breasts. Stop.’

‘Stop. God, stop it. Stop hurting my mother.’

I ground my hips to hers.

‘I’ll be getting to this. I’ll be getting to this soon enough but for now you fucking watch your daughter’s nipple being cut off. You fucking watch or else.’

I started the show again.

Kitty:   ‘Oh God, my God, if you’re going to let this happen, really happen to me, God give me strength. Help me through to survive it. Please, God, make me strong.’

Me:      ‘OK, enough. It’s time.  Stand up.’

Kitty:   ‘I’m scared. I’m weak. I might fall down, I’m so afraid.’

Me:      ‘You do and I’ll kick you silly. Stand the fuck up and come over here.’

Kitty struggled unsteadily to her feet and shuffled over to me with tears streaming down her cheeks. She wanted to keep her nipple. How could she keep her nipple?

Kitty:   ‘I’ll let you. I’ll let you fuck me, rape me if you want to. I don’t want you to disfigure my breast, my femininity. Please let me, — you can rape me.’

Page 45.

Me:     ‘I’ll be doing that anyway, so get the fuck over here. No more shit.’

Kitty:   ‘You’re gonna rape me anyway? Anyways? God, no please.’

Me:     ‘You bet, now last fucking chance for your mom.’

Kitty:  ‘OK. OK. OK, where do you want me?’

Me:     ‘I’m gonna sit on the floor against the wall with my legs spread and I want you to sit in front of me the same way. Like with your back to my chest.’

Kitty looks at me confused but slowly complies.

I get her hugged to me and pull her head back so I can twist her face around to kiss her mouth.

Me:    ‘It’s OK. It’ll be OK, baby. You’ll see. It won’t hurt like you think.’

Kitty: ‘Please. Please. Don’t.’

Me:   (Whispering softly in her ear.) ‘It’ll hurt more than you ever can imagine.  Goody for me. So lets get to it. Here it is. Here’s the knife.’

I held the scalpel in front of her contorted, tear flooded face.

Her legs kick slightly and jerked.

I brought my hand around up under her arm to cross over her chest to grip a tit, or at least what she had for a tit. I pinched her out at the areola.

Me:     ‘Feels good. You may not have much but what you do have feels fucking good. Feels like I could crush it. Maybe the other one. Huh?’

Kitty:  ‘Please. Please. Please, don’t please.’

Me:     ‘Now I wanna tell you something about nipples. Something you may not know or may not have thought about.  OK?’

Kitty:  ‘What? No. How? What? What is it?’

Me:     ‘Nipples are so fucking full of nerve endings and little erection muscles. I mean, how do you think yours get hard when you have erections if is wasn’t for all the little muscles inside of them? Right? Huh? And the fucking nerve endings, like there’s thousands of then all leading to the tip which is what gives you the nipple orgasms when you handle yourself while masturbating. Right? You play with your buds when you jerk off? I know you’d do that.’

Page 46.

Kitty:  ‘Go to Hell. Just get it over with and go to Hell.’

Me:     ‘Yeah, so yeah, there’s even the ducts like the little tubes that lead from the milk sacs, the lobules, in your tit that get the fluid out. Let me show you. I’ll bet I can express a squirt of fluid out of you even though you’re not pregnant. You’re not pregnant are you? I’d love to bust you preggars.’

Kitty:  ‘I’m not pregnant.’

Me:     ‘Too bad. It might, could have, kept you alive longer.’

I reached two hands to her breast and worked the flesh from the chest wall forward until it all bunched up at her areola. I gave her a last, hard sliding pinch and a squirt of milky white fluid shot out of her ducts. It squirted onto her knee.

Me:     ‘See. See. Just as I said. See. There’s always fluid in a woman’s tits’ ducts and capillary tubes. Fucking great.’

Kitty:  ‘You miserable degenerate bastard. Just get it over with.’

Me:     ‘So what I was telling you, the point. The secret you see it not to cut the whole nipple off. Just like three quarters of it that way to like leave a stub with a lot of the nerve ending and muscles still attached to you. That way the pain is fucking unbelievable, it’s inescapable. I can tell you that. I’ve done this before.’

Nora cried out, ‘My God. My God. What kind of monster are you? How many other women  have you done this to? How many others? Tell me. God dammed it, tell me.’

‘Mustn’t swear. A few mother. Even more than a few.’

Kitty:   ‘Oh, please. God no please. Don’t make it worse than it has to be.’

Me:      ‘Don’t you see? That’s just the point, my point. I wanna make it as bad as it can possibly be. You’ll never forget it, I can tell you that. Every time you put your stupid little training bra on, you’ll fucking remember.’

Kitty:   (Starts to pray.) ‘Our Father, who art in Heaven..’

I pulled her nipple out far and picked my spot a third of the way out from her areola.

Page 47.

Kitty:   ‘Oh God. Oh God, Our Father who art in Heaven.’

I applied the back edge of the blade to her stretched skin. It wasn’t for cutting but for practice.

Kitty:   ‘God. God, who art in Heaven, with me in the valley of the shadow of, of, God in the valley of. Don’t let me be hurt like this. Please God, save me. Save me.’

Me:

‘Here we go. Here she goes.’

I cut.

Kitty.

Screams

Me.

I cut lightly.

The blood flows freely.

Kitty’s feet jerk and her ass bumps the floor.

Me:      ‘Hold fucking still or I’ll use it on your cunt next.’

Kitty does her best to moderate her spasms.

‘Oh God. Oh God, Mom, look what he’s doing to me. Look what he did to me. Oh my God, he’s sawing through my nipple. I.. How did I survive it? I.. I don’t, I don’t want to remember it. God Mom, please make him stop. I don’t want to see it. To relive it.’

‘You stinking son of a bitch. Turn it off. Stop it. Don’t make us watch any more. No more of this. Turn it off.’

‘What and miss the detachment? Not fucking likely. It’s the best part, the sweet part of parting as they say.’

Me:     ‘Hold still bitch, I’m almost half way through.’

Kitty:  ‘Stop it. It hurts too much. It hurts so much. How can you hurt me so much? Why do you want to?’

Me:     ‘Believe me Kitty dearest, this is nothin’. Believe me. Wait until I get into your cunt. Then you’ll really know pain. Now here it goes, I’m almost through.’

I sawed firmly away.

I kissed her cheek and made the final slice.

Me:     (Proudly) ‘There. There. She’s done. Take a look. What the?’

Kitty had passed out in mid shriek.

Page 48.

I flipped her off to the side and climbed to my feet, carefully saving the just acquired piece of her nipple. She lay slumped over on her side, blood trickling out of her nipple stub.

I was thinking to rape her but I needed to check to be sure all was secure with Nora, so enough was enough. I had my first trophy and Kitty would be beside herself when she came to.

I shut the video camera recorder off.

I hoisted her upright and dragged her, half carried her, to the bathroom so I could clean her up and freshen myself up too. Besides I needed a piss and so did she. When she came to she could not believe the new appearance of her breast. We bathed it off together and eventually it stopped bleeding. I told her I’d leave her there for as long as she needed and her mom could call her to come out when she was ready, and thus was how this story started.

There was stone silence as I watched the women slowly adjusting to the recording being over. The sights and sounds they had taken in and how were they going to deal with the depth of the depravity I had exhibited. I was giddy and pumped inside from the display of power I’d shown them and couldn’t wait for their reactions.

But wait I had to, for a whole five minutes. Y’know what they say in a mental stand off, he (or she) who speaks first loses and I was not about to become a loser then. Never in my life. Not any time soon.

Nora did the honors.

‘I suppose you’re taking videos of this right now. What you’re doing to us now, I suppose you’re recording that too.’ She paused to stare me down. ‘Are you?’

‘Well no. Not actually. I mean I will do some more but that with Kitty that was a special occasion, like really quite spectacular. What we’re doing now is ordinary. There’s nothing to record that matters but when there’s going to be, sure you can bet I’ll record it again.’

‘I don’t believe you. Why should I believe you? You’re a criminal of the worst magnitude. Why should what you say mean anything?’

‘Awh gee, such disrespect.’

Page 49.

‘What’s to respect? How you hurt Kitty, what you did to my daughter, what in God’s name makes you think you deserve respect? You only deserve wrath and hatred and you said you were going to let us fight you. Why don’t you let us fight you? Scared?’

‘Yeah, I did mention that. Didn’t I? Scared of you? Are you fucking nuts? Why the Hell should I be scared of you?’

‘You know why. You know exactly why. You’ve injured my daughter horribly so you know I want revenge. You know I’d be truly motivated to gain revenge.’

‘Fuck, you’re smart. What, you take psychology or something in school? What a neat form of reverse, y’know reverse psychology. Fuck. Try to spark my anger so I’ll make a mistake. Get me on the defensive but not realizing that I am. Fuck, you’re no slouch at the games department either. Are you?’

‘It’s not a game. At least not for us.’ Kitty chimed in her half cent’s worth.’

‘Yeah, but you do want to trick me.  I know that much. You want to create at least a chance that you might over-power me when right now there is no such chance of that at all. Right? Right? That’s what you want. A fighting chance?’

‘You’re not a man but I, I, we, I want to see if you can at least try to act like one. See if you have a spine. I know you’re a coward. You only hurt women because you have control over them, so why not see how motivated you are to maintain that control. See how far your power extends beyond the end of your penis.’

‘Beyond the end of this?’ I flipped my pecker out of my briefs and strode over to Nora.

‘You like this? You respect this? Huh?’

‘Go to Hell. You’re pathetic and it’s pathetic too.’

‘How about I shove my pathetic up your ass?’

I held my rising boner out straight and jabbed it into Nora’s crotch.

‘Huh, bitch. You want it in the front or up the back?’

Kitty whined out. ‘No. No, leave her alone. No.’

Page 50.

I turned to accost her.

‘Oh, you’d rather it instead?’

I moved towards Kitty.

Nora whined out. ‘Stop. Stop. Leave her alone. Stop.’

‘So what the fuck? Which one’ll it be first. Who gets my boner first?’

They both went silent.

Out of the blue, all of a sudden, it was ‘fuck time’ and neither vagina wanted to participate.

‘Yeah, OK, we’ll fight but before we do, I’m gonna fuck one of you. So which one’ll it be?’

Kitty looked really scared.

Nora looked defiant.

I just knew by her face Nora was going to volunteer.

But I kept walking over to Kitty.

‘I was ready to fuck you in the bathroom, so why don’t I get it started now? You good with that?’

‘I don’t, I don’t want you to. Please, no.’

I waved my wand at her and peeled back the foreskin. I was one of the minority who was never circumcised.

Nora stepped up to the fuck plate.

‘Stop. Stop it. OK. OK, me. If it’s going to be anybody it’s going to be me. Leave her alone. You’ve already hurt her enough. Leave her be.’

Standing close in front of Kitty I swiveled my head to heed Nora.

‘Well mom, so mom, true to being a mother right to the end. Huh? You wanna be the hero?’

‘I’m not a hero. But you’re right, I am a mother and mine is to care for my children in all circumstances. I will not allow you to hurt her anymore, not if there is any choice, so me. It’s me who you’re going to rape.’

I looked back to Kitty.

‘You think that would be a good idea? You want me to rape your mom rather than you?’ (I wanted to add – first- but didn’t.)

‘Please. Please, oh please. I don’t want you to rape her but I don’t want you to rape me either.’

Page 51.

‘Well I can tell you my cock’s goin’ into a cunt and real soon so let’s get her done. Who’s it actually going to be?’

‘I told you. I told you. I demand that you listen. I told you. It’s me. You will not rape my daughter. It has to be me.’

I moved to stand midway between the two of them. They were fifteen feet apart.

I appeared to be pensive, feigning deep thought.

‘Hhmmm. OK. Hhmmm. Nora, I believe I can grant that? Sure. Sure, why not. I believe you’re serious. I believe you’re sincere but maybe, just maybe, you should prove it. Just prove it.’

‘Huh? What? What? Huh? What are you talking about?’

Kitty wailed. ‘What are you up to? What’s wrong with you? What do you want now?’

‘I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you a good idea I have.’

I had undivided attention even though there were two of them.

I fully intended to drag it out.

‘So Nora, what did you think when you saw, y’know like in the video, when I punched Kitty in the cunt? What did you think of that?’

‘You know what I thought. I know you’re despicable. You’re less than human, sub-human, to do such a horrible thing to my innocent daughter. For God’s sake what would you expect me to think?’

‘It did piss you off. Didn’t it? Didn’t like it at all. I know Kitty didn’t. She couldn’t fucking believe it. Right Kitty?’

‘You monster. You insane unspeakable monster. What’s wrong with you? Have you no conscience?’

‘Ahh, you’re a conscientious objector, are you?’

‘Go to Hell. Stop mocking me. Stop making light of all this. It’s serious and you know it.’

‘That it is, I suppose, so here’s my idea. Nora, Nora honey,  before I agree to rape you, I want you to take a punch to the vagina.’

‘What? What? What? Oh no. What?’ Nora was in disbelief.

‘What? What? What? Oh no. What?’ Kitty was incensed.

The women stared at each other and then at me.

Page 52.

Kitty spat it out first.

‘You’re insane. You’re completely insane. You’re demented. You cannot be serious. You cannot expect my mother to do that. To stand for that. You can’t.’

‘Well actually you got that right. Yes, she’ll have to be standing with her legs apart. I need a good clean shot. I really wanna connect.’

Nora began to tremble. She sensed there might be no way out.

‘Please. Please listen to me. Just rape me. Just rape me. Please, just rape me.’

‘Bet you never thought you’d be saying that. Right? Huh?’

I trotted the seven feet to her and held my hand up tenderly to her tear stained and twisted face.

‘Scared. Aren’t you?’

She nodded her head gently and gave me the biggest, saddest eyes.

I slid my hand around to hold onto her ear and brushed my lips to her other ear.

I kissed her lobe and nibbled at it.

She trembled and pulled.

‘You can do it. I know you’re strong enough to do it.’ I whispered in her ear.

‘But please, oh but please, I don’t want to. I don’t want you to.’

‘Then Kitty’s it. She’s gonna be the one then.’

‘No. No. No. You can’t. OK, do whatever you have to do. OK.’

‘Mom. Mom. God, Mom, no. No, you can’t. You can’t agree to such a thing. God, Mom you can’t. You have no idea how much it hurt. How much it hurt me. I could barely absorb it. I went into convulsions and when he punched me, I passed out. You saw it, you saw me pass out and then what he did to me. No. No, Mom, you can’t agree.’

‘I have to sweetheart. I must. Pray for me. Please pray for me.’

‘Good. Fucking great. Well that’s settled then. So let’s get’er all set up.’

Page 53.

‘What?’ Nora quizzed.

‘I sure as fuck wanna record it. I gotta get the  camera set up and you all set up too. You might as well get your panties off. That’s the first thing for you to do.’

‘Please. Please couldn’t I just leave my pink panties on. Please couldn’t you let me?’

‘What difference? Huh? You think somehow they’re gonna protect you. Like soften the blow? Huh?’

‘No. I know they won’t. But I need strength. A source of strength and privacy and I think they might help.’

‘Y’know what I think might help more? I’ll tell you. I think it’d be great if I was wearing them when I slug you. That’s what I think, so get them off to give to me while I set up the video camera. It’d HD, y’know, so it’ll show every little detail in high def. Fuck is this ever gonna be great. – I’m gonna busta cunt. I love busting cunts.’

I skipped away singing to myself to get a tripod and the vid cam and returned all pumped up expecting to be putting Nora’s undies on.

They weren’t fucking off her.

I pretended not to notice and set up the recording stuff.

It was actually better. That way I’d get to see her cunt come clean for the first time.

‘OK. Fine. So I’m all set. What’s keeping you? What’s holding you up?’

‘I’m afraid. I’m afraid I’m going to pass out. Please understand how scared I am.’

‘Oh yeah, yeah I almost forgot to mention, that’s the other thing, the other part.’

‘What?  No. What’s this about? What now?’

‘You need to understand, just so you know exactly what you’re getting into. What you’re agreeing to.’

She raised her head with pride and courage even a hint of stubbornness.

‘I know.  I know why? I accept my responsibility as a mother. I know.’

‘I’m not sure you do. You see when I hit you I’m really gonna line drive you. I’m gonna plant my fist so hard and so fast into your vagina you’re gonna be ruptured. You understand? I’m gonna rupture your womanhood.’

Page 54.

Kitty pleaded out.

‘No. No. For God’s sake no. You can’t hurt her like that. You can’t. She’s my mother. She’s better and deserves better than that. For God’s sake, for the love of God, you can’t.’

‘Shut the fuck up, Kitty, or I’ll come over there and do it to you.’

Kitty stammered, ‘ I.. I.. Oh, please. I..’

Nora ordered her. ‘Kitty. Honey. It’ll be alright. Please just be quiet sweetheart and pray for me. Say your prayers to God.’

‘Yeah, Kitty pray your fucking heart out.’

Nora was almost fainting and grew steadily more unsteady.

‘So you got my drift. I’m not playing pansy with you. When I say I’m gonna rupture you I mean I’m gonna do my best to drive your cervix into your uterus. I wouldn’t mind if I broke your pubic bone. Smashed the fucker.’

‘Oh my God. Oh, oh, oh my God. God, why me? God, please spare me some mercy. An ounce of forgiveness.’

‘Yeah, at least I can see you understand. So here’s the caveat.’

‘What? Caveat? No. What caveat?’

‘When I hit you, when I punch you, you gotta stay standing and you gotta stay conscious.’

‘I.. I.. How can I know? What if I don’t.’ How can I know if I can? If I’m able. For God’s sake, what are you saying?’

‘I’m telling you, you can scream and writhe and dance around all you want but you got to stay standing and you don’t pass out.’

‘I know. I know, but I don’t know. Or what?’

‘Yeah, that’s the best part. I’ll take a hammer to Kitty’s cunt.’

Working one against the other was so incredibly delicious, and effective. The height of power filled control.

‘I’m.. I’m.. I think I’m going to pass out already. I can’t absorb this. My mind can’t take it in.’ Nora was more wobbly than ever.

Kitty wailed her frustration at me.

‘This is not possible.You are not possible. For the love of God, this is not happening. It cannot be happening. Come to your senses. Come to your senses please and relent. Change. Stop. For God’s sake become a human being for a moment.’

Page 55.

‘And what then?’ I chirped back at her.

‘Then. Then. Then? Then you see how wrong all this is. How wrong-headed and wrong-hearted it is.’

‘I never heard of that before. Wrong-hearted. You just make that up?’

‘Yes. I suppose. Maybe, but you know what I mean.’

‘You sound a bit discombobulated to me?’

‘What?  What kind of a stupid word it that? Is it even a real word?’

‘Sure. Sure it is. Like all confused, like all mixed up. You sound disjointed and confused to me.’

‘No. No, I’m not. I’m not. discom, discombub..’I'm not.’

‘Bob, not bub. It’s discombobulated and I’ll tell you another one even more rare, how’s about I combobulate you? How’s that sound?’

‘You’re making it up. You’re trying to show that you’re knowledgeable and smart when you’re not.’

‘Think what you want, but I’ll combobulate you. I’ll do that now. I’ll take you from a confused state to a coherent and cognizant one, once and for all. If your Mom fails, I’ll shatter your pubic bone with a hammer. I’ll splinter it into shards. And then cut the pieces out of you. And then, and then I’ll fuck you. That cognizant enough for you? Clarity the order of the day?’

Kitty’s face went ashen. She went woozy wobbly and slumped to the floor. She’d passed out just from the words. Shows, as they say, the power of the spoken word.

Nora shrieked out.

‘For God’s sake, what have you done to my daughter. Leave her alone. OK. Hit me. Rupture me if you have to but leave my Kitty alone.’

It seemed ironic to me that I was going to pound her pussy and she wanted me to leave her kitty alone.

‘Give me your panties then.’

She gave the best imitation of a look of strength she could, resolute, and slipped her undies off.

‘Hand them to me.’

She raised her head and chin and set her mouth to bitter as she offered my prize to me.

Page 56.

‘Thank you. So let’s see how they fit. How I look in them.’

I wiped the crotch area across my nose.

‘Fuck smells good. Like, smells like the scent of a whole woman, but a scared woman. Fuck I love that smell.’

I put them in my mouth, at least the crotch part of them.

‘Tastes like a woman too.’

I made a production of climbing into her panties and smoothed them across my ass but my boner jutted well out in the front. I squeezed and massaged my member.

‘Wha’d'ya think? I look good in them?’

‘You’re a disgusting, juvenile monster.’

‘Whatever. Let’s see what Kitty thinks of me in them.’

‘Stay away from her. Stay away from her while she’s unconscious.’

‘What are you afraid off? Huh? Think I might mess with her again? Like while she’s passed out?’

‘Stay away. Just stay away.’

‘Fuck you. Let’s see what she thinks.’

I moved directly to Kitty and straightened her out on the floor so she was facing flat up.  I placed her ankles close together, touching, and her arms straight up above her head. She was long and slender and oh so vulnerable. I stood over her with her mother’s panties hovering above her hips. I knelt down and sat on her legs just above the knees.

She didn’t stir.

I leaned forward, my extended cock lightly brushing her pubic bush through her dress and took hold of her head at the side. I smacked her pouty mouth.

She didn’t stir.

‘Come on. Come on bitch. You gotta see.’

I pulled her ear and then her nose.

That made her look silly.

She didn’t stir.

Page 57.

I sat up and peeled her dress top down (She’d covered herself up.) and looked at her nipple stub.

I traced my index finger around its areola.

‘Come on bitch. Come on. You gotta see.’

I’d make her stir.

I dug my thumb nail into her wound.

In a few seconds she came to screaming.

She slapped her ass to the floor trying to buck me off.

I ground my nail into her so hard she started to bleed again, all the while Nora shrieking at me to stop. They screamed like a duet. It was a harmony born in rapist’s heaven and it was almost impossible to separate who was screaming what.

Here goes a try.

Even though it was Kitty being hurt, Nora screamed the loudest. Her outrage became the most concentrated.

‘Get away from her. Get off her. You insatiable bastard. Leave her alone. Leave my daughter alone.’

Kitty echoed that. ‘Leave me alone. Get off me. You’re hurting me. Stop. Stop it. Leave me alone.’

‘You’re a monster.’ That was from Nora.

‘You’re monstrous.’ Was from Kitty at the same time.

It was like they were joined at the minds, y’know like how some married couples become when they’ve been together for what seemed like forever. Of course, then technically speaking, the two women had been completely together with Kitty dumping out of Nora’s cunt. Nora’s blood was in Kitty’s veins and Kitty’s nipple blood was on my thumb. I licked it off.

They screamed back and forth and in unison for me to stop but the smell of Kitty’s fear was too great a stimulant. For the first time, the very first time I pressed my palm to her crotch. I didn’t hit her. I was feeling her down.

I hiked her dress above her hips and began massaging and digging at her labia.

Page 58.

I needed to act surprised.

‘What the? What the fuck is this? What the?’

Through her panties, I was pinching at the hangy-out, spongy part of her minora.

It felt like a worm and I rolled it between my thumb and fingers like bait.

‘What the? Don’t tell me. Don’t fucking tell me.’

Kitty thrust up and then banged her ass to the floor and twisted her pelvis side to side trying to dislodge my fingers. I intensified my vice grip.

‘You fucking cunt. Your fucking cunt. I don’t believe it.’

‘Stop it. Stop it. Stop hurting me. You’re hurting me. God. Stop it. You’re hurting my vagina.’

‘Fuck. Fuck, shit and piss.’

Nora virtually shrieked herself near out of her skin and into hysterics. She did not want me messing with what hung out of her daughter’s vagina. Not when it was she who had discouraged her from having it tidied up. Not when it would become her who would be responsible for it being tortured because of her motherly reticence. She’d meant to protect her daughter so look how that was turning out. All and completely wrong. That was the only how. She wanted my hand out of Kitty’s cunt.

‘Stop it. Stop it. Hurt me. Hurt me instead. Hit me in the vagina. Punch me in the vagina but leave Kitty alone. For God’s sake stop hurting her.’

I turned to look at Nora.

Fuck, did she look appealing with her tits bouncing and her hips twisting. I almost wanted to take her up on her offer right then but more I wanted to inspect just how much of Kitty was protruding and of course get my mouth and teeth onto it.

I pressed my thumbs to Kitty’s groin and hooked them into the top of her panties. She knew they were coming down in a slide but first I lowered my face to kiss her crinkle through the silk fabric, like one last moment she would remain covered. Her secret would next be out and displayed.

Page 59.

‘Shit, does that feel nice. Aah fuck, is this ever gonna be sweet. You ready?’

‘You’re not going to stop. Are you? I know you’re not, so promise me you won’t hurt me. Promise me you won’t make fun of me.’

‘We’ll see. We’ll see. So let’s see.’

I gently eased her panties down to just above the top of her pubic triangle. I let them rest there.

I wanted to watch her crotch tremble and she didn’t disappoint me. She was (about to be) so embarrassed and self-conscious about her protruding minora lips. She’d had that nervousness several times when she first got naked with a new boyfriend. And they had split pretty well down the middle, pardon the pithy pun, like half loved it and half found it repulsive and revolting, like even dirty and unfeminine. She had no idea how I would view her. She was indeed seconds from finding out.

She remembered for a moment that flashed through her mind, Jake, her first time high school fuck and how horribly wrong it had all gone. True, Jake was a hound, like almost the star quarter-back and he had her in that position, flat on her back, and wasn’t much impressed with her tiny titty tits. He didn’t seem to mind her nipples though, but he was rougher than she would have liked or maybe it was just his big football hands that weren’t very finessed. Regardless, he’d gotten enough drink into her that for the very first time her panties were being ducked down. When he saw her vagina, when he saw her anomaly, he was the biggest jerk in the teenaged jock, jerk-off world of the time. She heard his words again ever so clearly in her head. ‘You. You fucking cunt. What’s this shit hanging out of your cunt. You dirty little slut, if you think I’m fucking you with this between your legs, your nuts.’ Then he did what she could never forgive him for. He pinched it, pulled it out way too far and let it snap back, got off her and left her laying there humiliated and crying. It was four years before she ever got naked with a male again. She even considered being a lesbian but it was never who she was at heart.

Page 60.

And so I was hovering over her about to discover her hidden, not so secret secret any longer, in the blink of her eye.

I moved her panties further down to the very last of keeping her extra thing a secret.

‘So. So Kitty this is it. How bad do you think I bruised you?’

She was so focused, so mortified she’d forgotten I’d punched and kicked her there. Of course she had to be bruised. It was a miracle she wasn’t ruptured bloody.

‘Please. Please, just get it over with and don’t hurt me anymore.’

‘I guess I can settle for that.’

And with that I took her panties to her knees.

Her ankles were still pushed together so what was there was hidden.

I ran my hands down her legs to her feet and carefully began to spread them. Gradually it all came into view.

It indeed was exactly like a twisted worm, or more accurately, two of them side by side. All ribbed and crinkly.

‘Awh fuck. Fuck Kitty. Fuck. You poor bitch.’

Nora calld out. ‘Be strong. Be brave sweetheart.’

‘Awh shit, you poor fucking cunt.’ I went on.

‘What? What’s wrong? What are you going on about?’ Kitty was justifiably concerned by my reaction.

‘You’re done for. It’s fucking done for. Do you really believe when I’ve already taken your nipple that I’m gonna let you keep that. That fucking shit hanging out of your cunt? Huh?’

‘No. No, what are you talking about, letting me keep it?’

‘You know exactly what I’m getting at. Off, fucking off. It’s all coming off at some point. But right now, I wanna taste it. I wanna have a taste of it.’

All Nora could do was keep telling me to leave her alone plus yelling at God with diminishing faith and increasing frustration.

All I could do was salivate at the feel of her sushi in my mouth. Her hips froze in terror as she felt my teeth slide along her elastic bits. When I’d close my teeth to close, she froze even stiffer and begged with the upmost sincerity.

Page 61.

‘Please.’ She whispered. ‘Please don’t be mean. You don’t have  to be mean. Please don’t bite me.’

I near spunked the floor between her legs when she said that.

I dragged my face away to inspect her from a distance. Pinching my fingers to the very end of one outie minora lip, I stretched it up to the middle of her pubic hair. I pulled it hard and pinned it to her.

I let it snap back.

She was humiliated and disgusted at my foreplay.

For her it brought back such vivid memories of Jake.

Next I pulled it down inside along her slit to almost reach half way to her anus.

I let it snap back.

I drove my thumb hard into her canal to bump her cervix.

Nora saw she was being finger, or more accurately thumb, fucked. She wasn’t up for her daughter being raped in front of her.

‘You horrible, horrible disgusting bastard. What’s the matter with you? Why won’t you hit my vagina like you said you were going to? What’s the matter with you. You don’t even have the integrity to do that?’

It seemed a strange choice of a word related to how I was assaulting her precious Kitty. Integrity. Like what the fuck did honor-of-purpose have to do with any of it? Of course, for Nora, that was the crux, that her only purpose was to save her baby and that she didn’t care how she twisted reason to get me to stop digging at her kid’s vagina. For some reason that one word caught at my attention. Caught into my progress.

‘Look. Look. See.’ Nora cried out.

I turned my head to see how she looked.

Of all things, she was hitting her own pussy.

Punching her fists at it.

And not lightly either.

She caused her own ass to jerk back with each hit.

My eyes bulged out in disbelief.

Of all the victims I’d overwhelmed, none had ever done that before.

Page 62.

‘Shit lady. What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’

‘Leave her alone. Just leave her alone.’

‘Or you’ll beat your vagina up? Is that what you’re saying?’

‘Leave her alone and I’ll stop.’

‘Fuck, don’t stop on my account. Go to it. You go to it girl. Hammer the shit out of it.’

She abruptly stopped. It registered how over the edge I had sent her. She burst into motherly tears. She’d been driven to extreme desperation and I couldn’t have loved her more for her efforts and reactions.

I got up off Kitty, so it must have worked.

But not entirely.

I reached down and pulled Kitty upright by her hair.

She struggled and twisted and tried to pry my hand away.

‘Knock it off and stand still.’ I admonished her as she became fully erect, which by the way, my pecker was too.

She stood hunched over to the front but she was the sweetest sight of vulnerability and frailty. I mean she was a thin woman to begin with and her long legs trembling like she was, geeze, did it ever make her adorable and such a fuck feast to be. There was a moment approaching extraordinary pathos unfolding. She stood stoop shouldered all huddled into her invaded and damaged sexuality and Nora was still trembling and reeling from beating her own sexuality.

I took Kitty by the fleshy part of her upper arm and walked her over to her mom. She was desperate to join her so didn’t resist.  While only a few original words were said, it was still an emotion filled and heart-felt exchange, like only a mother and daughter could share who deeply loved one another.

‘Kitty. Kitty, darling, I know how you fear what he was doing to you. I had to help. I had to intercede and do something. Anything. I had to protect what I failed to protect of you before.’

Normally  I wouldn’t have permitted them to, but it would have been beyond my inhuman-ness not to have allowed them to embrace. Their sexuality, their combined womanhoods were about to be tortured out of them so what beast beyond the Devil’s realm would not have permitted them to do so.

Certainly not I.

For certain not me.

Page 63.

Besides it gave me such a sense of supreme power to watch, to behold with reverence, the depths of their affection and despair. It was a real boner pumper too.

‘May we? May I please? I need to hug, to comfort my daughter. I need to hold and embrace her.’

I pretended to deliberate while her eyes and body language pleaded.

‘Sure, why not? Why so? What can it hurt?’

‘Oh thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you, at least for this bit of human kindness. Thank you please.’

I must say, it did pull at my heart strings just a twitch and made me experience a half pinch of guilt. I mean, consider who they were.  Considering who they were, I probably should  have felt it sooner but what the shit, so what? Yeah, I mean they were like real quality women, women of character and substance, integrity and well-being and I had reduced them to vaginal entities with some tits and nipples thrown in for good measure. And what would their characters be with their labia lips removed? And what had Kitty’s become already with her nipple end gone, gone, gone?’

The women hugged firmly and their tears flowed freely onto each other’s shoulders. Nora held Kitty’s numb head and gripped her fine, long blond hair. She kissed her cheek and touched her dripping mouth tenderly. I had to jockey around to the side to see their tits mashing together.

A fierce shot of hatred, perhaps tinged with jealousy, shot through my crotch watching how much they adored each other and how Kitty’s injured nipple left a blood smear across Nora’s squished breast. I never knew anything with more certainty then that they were going to die the most horrible, prolonged sexual deaths that was inhumanly possible.

I approached the two of them and got up real close.

I really crowded their spaces.

‘You got room for me? Room for me to hug you too? Mind if I join in?’

Both their heads swiveled to me and four eyes begged me not to.

Page 64.

I encircled my arms around each of their shoulders and hugged them closer to each other and pulled them close to me. My erect penis was stuck between their hips. I jerked it back and forth and they jerked their asses away.

‘Come on ladies, get in the mood. Come on. I want my cock in a cunt.’

‘No. No, please, let us have a moment.’ Nora pleaded.

‘You’ve had a moment. Now it’s my turn.’

I got aggressive and shot a hand onto one of each of their tits. I gripped them like handles and pulled them away to the side.

Both women danced and dodged trying to get themselves unhanded. I let go of Kitty and double handed Nora’s tit. I pulled her along by it and she ducked over almost losing her balance. Kitty came after me and I, we, were close to getting into a fight. The chance they thought they wanted.

To ignite the situation, no words changed mouths. Without expressed warning Kitty threw herself onto my back and locked her arm at the elbow around my throat. She squeezed harder than she ever thought possible and immediately began to scream while she tried to bite the top of my ear off. She hollered with all her volume into it too. Nora exploded into revenge on cue.

She pulled her lady-like fist back and socked me as hard as she could in the gut. She wanted to nail my balls but with Kitty on my back and me bent over, she couldn’t make a clear shot.  I reeled to the side to avoid her next blow and you wanna talk about two unlucky women. She missed me but punched her Kitty hard in the side of the head. She nailed her temple and Kitty was semi-stunned and had to release her bear-hug around my throat and chest. I gave a wrenching twist and shook her off to crash to the floor. I had not a moment to spare for Nora was winding up for a better hit even as she cried out, ‘Kitty. Kitty I’m sorry. Kitty get up and help me beat him. Help me beat the bastard. I can’t do it alone.’

I caught Nora’s wrist in mid swing and deftly twisted her arm behind her back. I gripped her shoulder from behind and forced her hard far enough up to touch the back of her head. She wailed out, ‘Stop it. Stop it. You’re breaking my arm. Stop it. You’re dislocating my shoulder.’

Page 65.

Kitty was scrambling to her feet as best a semi-stunned broad could and she wobbled towards me. I spun Nora around and propelled her directly into the advancing Kitty. They interlocked and got all tangled up and crumpled to the floor.

I was standing and they were not so the advantage had quickly shifted to me. I decided to punish Kitty the most since she had started the resistance.  She was mostly on top of her mom and her back was to the ceiling. I took a running start of five steps and leaped into the air to crash down with my knees into the small of Kitty’s exposed back. We almost hard her spine crack and she squealed out as her disc got ruptured.

Anyone who has experienced lower-back injury and pain knows how instantly debilitating that can be. Kitty went into convulsions as her nerves spasmed and she felt about to lose consciousness from the searing injury. She twisted around to look up at me just in time to see me lining my foot up to kick at her tit. My toes glanced off her chest and smacked her under the chin. She was damned lucky she didn’t bite her tongue off but her jaw crashing into her skull knocked her out cold. Nora was beside herself as she saw her Kitty being beaten upon. She kicked her feet up at me from her prone position on the floor and aimed entirely for my crotch. She caught my inner leg but not my sacks but did manage to send me off balance. That was her incentive to give it all that she had as a mother to protect her unconscious daughter. She would give it the greatest effort she was humanly capable of. Her adrenalin shot into her veins and the hatred spilled out of her pours and fists and she became a pretty lethal fighting machine. Not the least bit reserved nor lady like at all.

She screamed to intimidate me, like the martial arts participants do when engaging a worthy opponent.

‘I’m gonna kill you. You horrible bastard, I’m gonna kill you. You hurt my daughter. You keep on hurting her, now it’s your turn to be hurt.’

The cunt got lucky.

She batted my balls.

She winged my goolies and as I oooofed to the floor she kicked me in the head. Golly was she a goolie terror.

Page 66.

I wasn’t completely scared but I wasn’t fully in command either so I decided to play the wuss.

‘No. No, stop it. OK, you win. OK. I’ll let you go. Just stop it.’

She hesitated for a quarter second before she pounced on me like a cat on a bug and tried to hammer me into unconsciousness by sitting on my side and pounding at my head. She gripped my hair and was all set to take a bite out of my ear.

The women were not fighters.

They never had been.

Kitty had come to and instead of helping her mother, she aborted her efforts to maim me, of course, all so accidental and inadvertently.

Kitty came to Nora’s aid but with too much velocity and crashed into her knocking her off my side. She over-shot the runway, so to say, and ended up rolled onto the floor with her ass to the ceiling.

I scurried around like a chipmunk avoiding an advancing car  and got myself righted again. Nora wiggled around trying to figure out where I was. Where had I run off to?

While I enjoyed the fight in them I wasn’t partial to them actually overpowering me. I had little doubt my testicles would become collateral damage before they killed me. I wasn’t up for being de-balled and dying so soon in my relatively young career.

I had several weapons stashed around the room from which to chose and I went for the nylon fishing rod I’d fashioned into a whip. It gave me six feet of distance between being able to injure them and actually touching them. It didn’t look the most intimidating but God could it ever sting when properly connected to bare female flesh.

Nora saw where I had headed and charged like a female bull, (huh?) a heifer, no, cow, cow, (She’d had a kid.) like an angry cow, after me. I side-stepped her rant and whipped her across the side. Her eyes exploded wide open and she gripped the new welt to her rib cage and staggered her advancing steps. I whipped her again across the shoulder. It stunned her but didn’t stop her as Kitty came charging at me from off to the side. I whirled around and got better lucky with her. The tip of the whip bit into the underside of her injured tit about an inch lower than her areola. Still it stung the wound into renewed fire and she faltered immediately.

Page 67.

It gave me a precious moment to whip at Nora again. I caught her across the bridge of her nose and she reacted as any beautiful woman would to her face being injured. She covered her eyes and cowered away from my hand. I rushed on her in a charge and used my hands placed to her shoulders to shove her backwards down onto the floor. As she twisted she tumbled over a small side table and crashed it to the floor too. I picked it up and hurtled it down on top of her. It bounced of her writhing body and of all things, tripped Kitty as she charged at me from the side. She fell right beside her mom so I had two of them side by side to whip at once. I must say I went into a frenzy. There would be no other way to describe it. I laid over twenty lashes on their naked, squirming bodies and when I ran out of energy, like my arm got tired, I put the boots to them. And I stomped on them too. They soon realized they were losing the battle and probably the war.

The one that really did it for Kitty was when I drove my heel down into Nora’s cunt. I pulverized the side of one of her labia lips.

Nora, for the very first time, went unconscious and Kitty was beside herself with daughterly grief.

‘Oh God, Mom, oh God. Mom. Mom. – You bastard. Look what you did to my Mom.’

‘Fucking right. Fucking cunt and I’ll do it again.’

I got my foot set.

‘No. No you won’t. She’s unconscious. She’s really hurt. She can’t defend herself. No you won’t.’

‘So just stop me. Just stop me then. Try.’

I drew my foot back. I’d moved to within a clear shot at her pussy again.

‘She can’t defend  herself you monster. She can’t. Kick me instead.’

I gave her a glorious, delighted look.

‘No shit. No shit? You want me to do that to you? Really?’

‘No. No of course I don’t,  but my mother, my precious and dear mother who never hurt anyone, she can’t help herself. She’s in no position to defend herself so I  have to do it for her and if that’s the only way, then, yes, go ahead and do it.’

Page 68.

They always talk about a mother’s unconditional love for her children. It isn’t mentioned so much about a daughter’s similar commitment to her mother and her well-being. Kitty was a princess and a saint but I was a cunt buster so none of it mattered as far as they were concerned.

‘OK. Fine. Fine. Fucking fine. You know what it’s like already. Lie flat on your back on the floor and spread your legs. I’m gonna get a pillow to put under your ass.’

‘No. No. No, you’re not.’ She looked shocked that I’d want to elevate her pubic bone to kick it. Then again I don’t know actually where she thought I was gonna boot her when she volunteered but it did become evident it wasn’t into her own pussy.

She balked like a determined mule.

‘Oh, no. No. No. Please, please. No, please, you can’t. Not there. God not there again. Anywhere else but there. Please.’

I  studied her.

I really wanted to fuck with her courage and faith, not that I would ever have done it, kicked her in the face, but she had no way of knowing it but I told her like I would.

‘OK. Fine, OK. But I’m gonna kick your teeth in then.’

She looked surprisingly shocked.

I might have mentioned before, and if not I’m doing so now, beautiful women do not want their faces messed up. Call it vanity or pride and arrogance but they all identify with their beauty as who they are and oft times feel it makes them superior or at least gives them an edge. I mean look how full Hollywood and the modelling scene are of extra good looking women with killer  bodies. Yes indeed. No for a fact, Kitty wanted to keep the look of those lips which only left her other ones to absorb the foot-blow.

‘You’d kick me in the face? You.. What? You’d actually do that to me? I thought you liked how I look. You said to me I’m beautiful. How could you kick me in the face then?’

‘Don’t you see, it’s really very simple. You chose which set of lips gets it.’

I  gave her a smug, smarmy look and added, ‘It’s all up to you.’

‘Somewhere else. For God’s sake. Somewhere else.’

Page 69.

‘Look, I’m gonna give you ten seconds, ten fucking seconds to decide or I’ll boot Nora over there so hard in the twat I’ll dislocate her cervix. I’ll drive it into her uterus. You want that?’

‘Oh God. Oh God. No. No. No, you can’t. No.’

‘So decide then. Fucking decide, ten, nine, eight.’

‘Oh Lord. Oh Lord help me. Oh Lord. God, oh my Lord God. No.’

‘Seven, seven, six, five..’

‘For God’s sake don’t. Stop it. Please. For the love of God, stop it.’

‘Four. Fucking four, three and a two..’

‘OK. OK. No. OK. My vagina. My vagina.’

‘What about it? Don’t kick my vagina.’

‘What?’ I was taken off guard.

‘No, please. I don’t think I could stand it again. My face. My face then. Do my face instead.’ She blurted it all out through a host of tears.

Had she called my bluff or was she sincere? Was it a calculated gamble by a wiley fox? I knew one thing, I wasn’t about to mess with her looks so where did that leave me?

I took hold of her head and stared hard into her face. She seemed to tremble. I pushed her lips to her front perfect white teeth.  I kissed her lightly and looked back at her to see reaction. She’d never closed her eyes so there was no romance in it for her.

‘Well, fuck, well.’ I sort of stammered as if to procrastinate.

‘What’s the matter?’ She challenged me pushing her chin up.

‘Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Everything’s perfect instead. Everything’s just, just fucking fine.’

‘I don’t believe you. I think you’re, you’re ly.. I think you’re not telling the truth.’

I gave her a look like, – are you sure you wanna do this?

‘Are you sure you want to pursue this?’

‘Why not? I’m not the liar you are.’

She’d checked herself and then she didn’t.

Kitty’s mouth had gotten her into troubles before and she sensed she had gone too far with me.

Page 70.

My eyes narrowed and my jaw and fist clenched.

I sucked in a big breath of extra strength through my tight nostrils and let fly with a shattering punch. Her docked nipple tit was flat to begin with but I  flattened it so hard to her skeleton a  few milk lobules ruptured and two ribs cracked. It spit open the wound that was the end of her stub nipple and guts squished out of it too.

She reeled and gasped but somehow she wasn’t defeated.

‘That proves  it. That proves it to me. That you were lying. That you’re a pathetic liar. You can beat me all you want but I know your secret. What a scared little miscreant you are. That a woman will stand up to you and reveal who you are, I’m that woman. I know where your skeletons lie. Lay. Lie.’

I’d seen that reckless disregard for one’s own safety and well-being or the consequences of their actions before in women I’d pushed over the edge of their stamina. Their ability or willingness to absorb pain. It was like, so I know you’re going to  kill me anyway so what should I care about what you care about? Of course the fallacy of all that, that line of defense and reasoning was the how and the length of the how they died.  There was always a price to pay for misplaced and foolish bravery and bravado.

‘I thought you were smarter than that. Smarter than most of the others.’

‘What? What others? What do you mean? Others? How many others?’

‘Let’s just say, more than a few and do you think you’re the first cunt to throw caution to the wind and to be reckless and unthinking and not to seemingly care about the consequences of your actions? Do you really believe that? That I’m that much of an amateur and not wholly effective at torturing and breaking beautiful women? Huh?’

‘Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. No. No, No..’

‘What now? What’s.. What the fuck’s wrong with you now?’

‘No. No, not me. Not what’s wrong with me. You. Oh God, no you. You’re a serial? God. One after the other. Numerous before? You’re saying you’re a serial rapist, torturer and murderer?’

‘Fucking right on and damned proud of it and don’t forget sexual. Sexual. Sex, sex and sexual.’

Page 71.

‘Oh God. Oh God. Why me? Why us? Oh God, what have I done? What have you done to me, God?

‘It would seem He’s abandoned you. Huh? Doesn’t give a fuck about you. Certainly doesn’t give a fuck about this. What I do to it.’

I shot her a light, teasing blow to her labia. Nothing mean, just a precursor.

‘Go ahead, beat me. Beat me there. I don’t care.’

It was an even more definitive sign I had her near her incoherence point, a point approaching breaking where nothing mattered to her anymore. Of course, her mom would refocus her caring and concerns.

‘Beat you cunt. You don’t care if I beat your cunt. I’d say that’s a sign. So why don’t I drag your mom over here and beat the snot out of both of your cunts at once?’

Kitty kicked her feet around as I lined up a harder punch.

I felt her pubic bone shudder as I drove it upwards and inwards towards her spine.

Her legs began to thrash.

I popped up and headed over for Nora. She remained fully out of it. I grabbed her ankle and dragged her on her backside to lay out flat alongside her girl. Kitty was consumed with hugging herself in a fetal position to lessen the pain in her groin. I booted her bum and again. I loved how her skinny ass cheeks flubbered.

‘Lay flat. Fucking lay flat or I swear I’ll finish your mom off. I’ll fucking kill her right now.’

Kitty turned her face to engage her mother but Nora was still completely unawares. Kitty forced herself to turn and hugged at her mom’s seemingly lifeless body. She tugged at her side under her armpit making Nora’s tits jerk and jiggle.

What a fucking turn on for me watching her nipples bouncing around.

‘Mom. Mom. Wake up. Mom. Please wake up.’

‘Stop being so stupid. You know she’s not asleep. She’s unconscious. Don’t you know the difference?’

‘Mom. Mom, please stop being unconscious.’

Kitty shook her approaching violently.

‘You. You, saucy bitch. Lay still right along side her. Stop wiggling. Stop moving and struggling. Pretend like you’re unconscious just like her.’

Page 72.

‘Go to Hell. She’s my mom. I need to help my mom.’

‘And she’ll be your dead mom, your fucking dead mom if you don’t do what I say.’

Kitty could sense something worse, much worser, was building in the air. Something horrible and unspeakable but in spite of it, she did not want her mother to be killed. She was ever the dutiful daughter and my threat of murder registered with her conscience. Her bravery stepped up and she quietly complied and stretched out straight along side her kin.

I had not seen a more invigorating, sensual sight for at least three months when I had done a mother and her two budding daughters.

Kitty and Nora were in the grove, like on the final downward slide.

Kitty watched my every nuance and move with terrified, but hawk-like eyes. There was a menace about me. A new level of threat and she didn’t know how to avert it. Of course, as was commonly the case, prayer became the default approach.

‘God. God, please God. Make him stop. Make him go away. Please God, just help us. Just help us please. Help me.’

I’d moved off to the side and rummaged through a mechanic’s tool chest drawer and came back with…

Kitty’s eyes widened, near popping out of their sockets.

‘God. God, no why? Why? For the love of God, why do you have? No, why do you have them? God, why?’

I stood powerful and armed towering over them.

Each hand was occupied.

‘Why? No. No, you can’t. No.’

‘Pick.’

‘Oh no. No.’

‘Pick one. Pick one for her.’

‘Oh no. No. God. God. God. Mom. Mommy. No. Mommy wake up. – What are you going to do?’

‘What’s it look like?’

‘Oh no. Oh no. Put the hammer down please. Put it down please.’

Page 73.

‘And what? Not these?’

I made them snip, snip, snip like scissors.

‘No. Please, please yes. Put the pliers down too. Please.’

‘Now you listen and you listen good. I’m gonna use one of these on your mother’s tits. You got it? So you chose.’

‘Oh for God’s sake no. No. How can you? How can I? What’s wrong with you? Where is your humanity, your compassion? For the love of God, there has to be some human-ness in you – somewhere. Leave my mother alone. Don’t hurt her. Leave her alone.’

‘Would you rather I used them on you?’

She went into that stunned, indecisive silence and cringed as she mewled.

‘Oh no. No you can’t. You can’t play that game with me, with us again. You can’t. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s so unfair.’

‘Fuck fair. You chose for your mom or I start on you.’

‘You know. You know I’ll never sacrifice my mother to save myself. You know that, so do whatever you have to do to me then.’

‘No problem. Sure no problem. What, you want the pliers first?’

‘What are you going to do with them? What are you going to do to me with them?’

‘Hey look, I’ll be fair. I’ll give you a choice.’

‘What? How? What? What choice?’

‘So you’ve still got a good nipple left. Right? Left, right. Left, right, ha ha.’

‘No. No you wouldn’t. No. Not after what you did to my other breast. God, no you wouldn’t.’

‘Oh come on now, you don’t think a woman’s nipples and pliers aren’t made for each other? Especially an erect nipple, a hard one? Huh? Seems like a perfect fit to me.’

‘How did you ever become so horrid? How? You tell me. What did someone ever do to you? Your mother, what did she do?’

‘She had me, that’s what she did and aren’t you grateful for that? Or do you hate her? Is that it? You hate my mother.’

‘I hate what she let you become. Why wouldn’t I? What do you expect?’

Page 74.

‘I expect you to suck it up and let me wreck your other nipple. That’s what?’

‘Wreck? You mean how? No, how?’

‘What do you think pliers will do to a nipple, your nipple? What the fuck do you think?’

‘I can’t.. I don’t.. What? No. I can’t think. I won’t.’

‘So let’s find out then. Let’s get at her and find out.’

I moved close to her with the pliers firmly in my grip.

I firmly gripped her tit and worked at hardening her nipple.

She tried to keep it flaccid but I knew how to work the little muscles and force them to respond. In a minute she was as hard as a grape and just as crushable.

I applied the jaws of the pliers to her dilemma which she cried out.

‘No. No. Don’t know. You said I had a choice. There was a choice. For God’s sake, what’s the choice?’

‘I thought you’d never ask.’

‘Tell me. Stop. Stop it, and tell me please.’

How was it possible she never figured her clit? Like, how could she rule it out by not thinking about it? By omission, so to say? If she’d deduced it, she would have simply told me to start crushing her nipple.

I wasn’t in a hurry to let her know.

Beyond fantastic I wanted to savor the ecstasy.

It was the ultimate vaginal realization for a tortured woman to be.

I stroked my hand up her breast and pinched lightly at her hardness. I tugged it out with a twist.

‘Fucking sweet. Fuck are you sweet.’

‘If you think I’m so sweet, why would you want to hurt it, me? Why would you want to destroy it? To destroy me? Why? What are you about?’

‘Because.. Because, I love how they pop.’

‘What? You what? You bastard.’

‘Yeah, ain’t that something. I love how their guts spurt out.’

Page 75.

‘Oh no. Oh no. You’re impossible. You’re horrible. What is my other choice?’

I gave her a blank look filled with control and power. I tried to make it emotionless but inside I was about to have a heart orgasm. Time to roll out the bad news.

‘Your legs.’

‘What? What about them? What about my legs?’

I narrowed my eyes and pursed my lips.

My boner was pounding.

‘Between them?’

‘What?’ She paused. Then recognition flashed behind her eyes. ‘No. What? No. No, God no. You are completely insane. You are monstrously insane and mad. You’re a mad monster, you impossible bastard. You think you’re going to use the pliers there?’

‘What better alternative?’

‘You crazy creep. Go to Hell, you degenerate.’

‘So I take it, your cunt’s out. You don’t want me to crush your clit?’

‘What? What? God what? You mean? What?’

‘What? What’d you think? Automatically I was gonna crush the shit hanging out of your twat? That what you thought?’

Her mind was numbing at the grossness of the conversation and the images being conjured up. Her feminine sensibilities were being roasted and severely compromised. She was to the point she couldn’t think straight any more. I suppose you might say she began to babble.

‘Ehh. I won’t. I can’t. Where am I? Oh, mom, mommy why won’t you? Wake up. Nanny, no mommy, help. What? Help me. I.. I.. Where are we? The show. Why didn’t you show for the show? Mom. No, call dad, call daddy. Tell dad what’s happened. Make him, tell him, mom convince him you still, we still love him. Make. What? No. No.’ And ever so softly she trailed off to a litany of ‘No. No. No. No…’

I slapped her face hard with the back of my hand.

I back-handed her tit.

Her eyes popped open wider and refocused.

Page 76.

‘So we’re decided then? Your nipple it is?’

‘You’ve decided and I don’t care what you say.’

‘Oh yeah? Oh really? Then maybe you’ll care about this.’

I picked up the hammer and hefted it from hand to hand.

Back and forth.

Forth and back.

Several times.

Her eyes were glued to every toss and she saw the exact moment of the change in my direction.

I swooned over, placed one hand to Nora’s helpless vagina to smooth it, and used my other hand to drive the hammer into her pubic bone.

Nora’s hips exploded in a spray of shattered bone and guts and blood splattering and Kitty exploded in shrieks of disbelief at her failure to keep her mom safe and the heightened degree of my inhumanity.

‘What did you do? Why? Oh why? What did you do to my mother?’

‘It’s gonna be a bitch when I fuck her, isn’t it? Imagine when she comes to, how she’s gonna shriek.’

‘Oh God. Oh God. God forgive me. Oh God.’

I gripped Kitty by the hair.

‘Come on, lets have a closer look together.’

She wrenched her head away.

I still had the bloody, vagina gooped hammer in my hand.

I raised it.

She stopped pulling and let me force her face to her mom’s twat.

‘OK. That’s better. Let’s see what we have here.’

I laid the hammer on her belly and applied my hands to Nora’s crotch.

Her labia seemed pretty much normal, at least the lower portions but her clit was obliterated against her bone structure. I pressed my fingers to the bone and it indeed was broken. It seemed like there were at least three splinters. I poked my greedy fingers into her canal and one splinter had punctured the lining. I’d driven it down and through. It scratched my thumb as I shoved it in far enough to dig at her cervix. Nothing of her vix had been damaged.

Page 77.

Kitty freaked at my invasion of her mom’s injuries.

‘I don’t care what it takes. I don’t care. I will kill you for what you’ve done to my mother. You deserve to die and I’ll be the one to do it. God will help me. I know He will. You don’t deserve to live.’

‘Yeah. You think so, yeah. So let’s see you try. Let’s see Him try.’

I picked the bloody hammer off Nora’s smeared belly and aimed it at Kitty. She raised her arm as I raised mine.

Her tit was so in the open I had to boot it.

She reeled back, twisting onto her side and I swiped up the pliers to go after her remaining good nipple.

She was cowed into a ball but I managed to drag her tit to the side so I could get the pliers’ jaws onto my target.

She was already partly stunned and became fully so when I crushed her tender but sexual bud.  It wasn’t as hard as I would have liked so half her areola got flattened too. I kept the pliers pinched hard on her and pulled away on her breast flesh. She was fighting meekly because of the shock to her system. She gave several arching bucks and turns and passed out like her mom.

I had the two of them the same, unconscious.

I was satisfied with my hammer and pliers work and got up for a look.

Gazing down on them, mainly Kitty, her stilled vagina was an invitation to fuck. I needed to dump a load of jizz since my balls hurt and once riding inside her, I left Kitty my juice in a dozen vicious thrusts. She’d know she’d been raped. That was for sure. Her pussy was bleeding a bit when I was done.

So mom and daughter were a match, sexually broken and something was getting into my madness that made me think I’d had enough. Ironically, that I’d had enough of them.

I seldom killed victims so early in the progress of my tortures but I was becoming inclined to murder off at least one of them to let the other live on in the misery and agony of having seen the other one die.

Who would it be?

Who didn’t deserve to live and who had incited the right to die?

Zara had no idea what she was getting into. She had agreed to go out with Bret
only because her agent had asked her.

Zara was your typical straving actress desperate to get ahead in Hollywood, and
desperately in need of that elusive first break. She had to literally wrestle
with Bret, just to get him to stop kissing her. Another casting couch affair,
Zara muttered to herself.

At least Bret was a different producer than most: he called her a cab and gave
her fare to get home.

But that was six hours ago. The cabbie never had any intention of driving Zara
home; he was another lackey on the payroll of the producer Bret. And he had been
instructed to drive into a dark alley and incapacitate poor Zara. Having worked
these jobs for Bret before, the “cabbie” was more than a match for the pretty
young thing.

When Zara regained consciousness, she immediately felt a tremendous throbbing in
her head where the cabbie had landed the handle of a gun. She meekly opened her
eyes to find that she was in the center of some meticulously adorned prison
cell. It was basically four gray walls with a wide range of assortment torture
devices. Zara recognized only a handful, and of the others she would have
prefered to have been ignorant.

“Well, I see, my proud little plaything has opened her eyes again,” Bret said as
he opened the steel door; the only way in and the only way out as far as Zara
could tell.

Bret was still wearing the suit and tie combo he had on earlier and he simply
stood there admiring the captured beauty.

Zara was still fully clothed and her hands were shackled to chains that led up
into the ceiling. Her legs were slightly spread as her ankles were chained to
eyebolts on the concrete floor. Bret smiled and licked his lips as he
concentrated on her exotic good looks.

At about 5′9″, Zara was above average height, and with her 5-inch heels right
now, she stood easily at 6 feet tall. Her legs needed little help, but they were
sculpted even more by the black high heels that came up to her ankles and then
through a series of tight black straps, wrapped around her lower leg up to her
knees. Bret wondered if Zara had a natural fetish for bondage. If she did, he
planned on surpassing any soft bondage dream she might have had.

Above her knees, her simple black dress hovered, although it suffered a few
scratches in the transition from the cab to the cell. There was a slit that
creeped almost to mid-thigh, and this trace of flesh drew another inaudible
sound of approval from Bret.

It was obvious to Bret, she was not wearing a bra, but even so her breasts were
large enough to make an impression on the fabric. And with the chains pulling on
her upper body, Zara’s breasts were given additional, seductive lift. Either she
was excited or scared because her nipples were evidently hard pressed into her
dress.

Her neck was thin and looked almost frail. The color of her face was sketched in
warm tones, giving Zara that exotic, permanently tanned appearance. Her eyes
usually intoxicated most men. Despite her crying now, Bret could still see that
her blue irises almost looked too big for her eyelids. Her long brown hair was
covering most of her precious face at the moment, and she refused to look
directly into Bret’s eyes.

“If you had only cooperated with me back in my office, it wouldn’t have come to
this, Zara. But I tell you what. I’ll give you a second chance. Sleep with
me—of your own free will—tonight and I will let you out of here, and, what’s
more, I’ll even help you get that 3-picture deal with Orionia Productions. Come
on, Zara. Small price to pay for fame.”

“I’ll never sleep with you, Bret. I want to make it on talent and hard work. I
don’t need to sleep with anybody to make it on my own,” Zara concluded her
defiant statement with the same kind of dramatic flourish she gave in her high
school drama class.

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong,Zara dear. Because if you don’t sleep with me
here and now, you won’t, how is it everyone puts it: You won’t ever work in this
town again. I’ll see to that…in the most painful of ways. Your choice.”

“No, never!”

“Well, Okay, but remember, when you’re begging to fuck me that you yourself
said,’No, never.’ I just want you to remember that when you’re pissing on
yourself in pain.”

And he began his demonstration by slapping her hard across the face. Bret wasted
no time, he took out a pocket knife and thrashed at her little black dress. In
minutes, Zara was hanging only in high heels and black silk panties.

“Ah, french-cut panties. I like your taste, Zara. And I like those shoes too. I
think we’ll let you wear them for a while. But the panties got to go.”

Bret slid the knife blade under the panties over her hips and snipped them off,
revealing a neatly trimmed mound of brown hair. Bret, frowning with some
dissatisfaction, approached her pubic hair and began the slow process of
removing the hairs one by one with his index finger and thumb. This painful
ordeal seemed to go on for hours, and by the time he had thinned out her mound,
she was sweating and cursing.

He came back from a work bench carved out of the wall with a razor and shaving
cream. He applied the white substance and carefully shaved the remaining hair
completely off.

Strangely, Zara felt her nudity increase with this latest invasion of her
privacy.

Bret stepped back from his work with a nod of approval.

“Now, you know what looks best on freshly shaven pussy?”

Zara was too humiliated to formulate an answer. She just kept her head bowed.

“Don’t know, huh? Why, a freshly pierced pussy! Now, scream if you like, because
baby, I’m no professional and I know when I do this, it usually hurts the girls
something awful.”

“No, no, please, don’t do that! No, please don’t hurt me there, Bret.

Bret!!”

Her pleading didn’t stop his advances. She heard the click of metal and looked
down to see him rub his fingers along his cunt lips.

“Doesn’t really matter where I put the first ones, because after I’m finished
with you, Zara, you’re going to be pierced at least a dozen times, so it will
all kind of blend in.”

He took the first needle and poked her tender skin. Zara screamed an inhuman
scream at the top of her lungs, but no one would hear her in the bowels of this
entrenched basement. She heard the first ring click together and she couldsense
the added weight resting on her pussy lip.

“No, no, please, God, this can’t be happening to me. Please I pro—–”

Her sentiments were cut off by another unearthly scream as Bret pierced into her
other pussy lip to supply her with a matching steel ring. He tugged on them both
simultaneously to test the new applications.

“Looks fine, but I really have a thing for threesomes. We need one more ring,
and guess where it’s going,Zara.”

And just like that, he pierced the sensitive flesh her clit, sending her head
back in terrible pain. He brought out a heavier ring and snapped it within and
without her throbbing clit.

Zara was just about to pass out when Bret slapped her across the face to bring
her back to life.

“Give up yet? Will you sleep with me of your own free will now?”

Barely able to force the air through her lips, Zara said in a shaking, quivering
voice,”No, Bret. Never. You can go to hell.”

“Well, I guess we just weren’t meant to be, Zara. Too bad. I wish I didn’t have
to do this.”

Bret returned from the work bench with a set of brands. Each one had temperature
controls, and he was in the process of warming them up for use.

“Zara, let me introduce you to my branding set. It’s an alphabet of brands,
really, 26 in all, with a few extras for punctuation and special marks. We’re
going to experiment with what I like to call permanent body art.”

“Nooooo, nooooo, please, stop this. You’re insane, Bret. Stop now and I wont
tell anybody!”

“You see, first, we’re going to establish a brand of ownership, and we’ll spell
that out on the small of your back.”

He took the letters for the first word and organized them on the floor.

B-R-E-T-’-S.

He slowly raised the brand of the letter “B” and pressed it firmly against her
skin. He held on to her body to keep it from separating away from the brand.

“The key really is holding the brand down long enough so when the skin scars,
you can still clearly make out the words.”

Twenty minutes later, he had applied the phrase, “BRET’S SLAVE” to her back,
despite Zara’s frequent trips into unconsciousness. After he had started the “S”
of slave, Zara was begging to suck his cock, swallow his cum, suck on his toes,
anything he wanted, if he would just stop the torture.

After finishing the second word, he agreed, and Zara greedily sucked on his
aching cock and greedily consumed all of his plentiful cum. And when she was
finished sucking him off, and licking the cum off the floor that missed her
face, Bret reshackled her ankles and wrists and stretched her out to the ceiling
again.

“Oh, Zara, that was good, but I know with the proper motivation you can do
better next time.”

Part Two

For two solid days and nights, Bret alternated between punishing Zara and
allowing her to suck him. Neither had had sleep in over 48 hours, and while Zara
was reaching a point of hysteria and complete psychological exhaustion, Bret was
more excited and seemingly indefatiguable.

She begged repeatedly to be freed, and when she realized that she would never be
allowed to leave, she softened her desperate demands by begging for rest.

“Why Zara, I bet you’ve lost 10 pounds of water weight since you got here. You
look splendid, even if you don’t approve of you new accessories. Speaking of
accessories, I’ve got some new territory to cover before I introduce you to some
friends of mine.”

Bret began eyeing her luscious tits, taking his fingers and squeezing her
hardening nipples. He left her for his work bench and returned with more
hardware. Zara’s eyes refocused, fighting off the urge to sleep in order to see
what agony he had in store for her.

“If you look carefully at these rings, Zara, you’ll see an inscription on the
outside of each band. Go ahead, read it. Read it aloud, honey.”

Zara mindlessly complied with his latest instruction.

“‘Property of Bret,’” she whispered with her hoarse voice.

“Exactly, and don’t you forget it.”

Without further ado, he produced another menacing needle and penetrated her
erect nipple. Zara threw her head back and screamed with all the volume her
worn-out vocal chords had. She heard the now-familiar “click” and he grabbed her
hair and forced her to bend down to observe this latest adornment. This ring
felt lighter than the ones in her pussy and clit, but the band itself was wider
and punched through most of her nipple flesh. She cried new tears at the sight.

Her wishful career as an actress was a distant memory and now, Bret was making
certain she could never get work in any legitimate entertainment field ever
again. All because she stuck to her principles and refused to sleep with him.

He affixed a matching nipple ring to her other tit and sucked on them hard to
elicit a few more fresh screams from Zara.

“While we’ve got the needles out, let’s put another ring through your clit. This
one, just a little further back.”

Zara started to plead for mercy, but she gave up as he plunged another sharp
needle into her increasingly sore clit. Bret slid another small ring just next
to the first one, side by side. There wasn’t much space left, Bret thought to
himself, but if he felt like it later, he could probably fit another couple of
rings on her throbbing clit. To his chagrin, Zara passed out again. He slapped
her face rudely to renew her senses.

“Hey, hey, wake up kiddo, I’m going to take these wrist shackles down.”

Bret had her stand on her tiptoes and then he released her to the floor. The
eyebolt-chains kept her attached to the concrete floor, so Zara knew she
couldn’t make a run for the steel door. “I have something special for you,Zara.
A gift from me to you.”

He withdrew a heavy black collar and snapped it around her neck. He took out two
small padlocks and clicked them to secure the collar around her fragile neck. It
fit tight around her neck, and within minutes the black leather was chafing her
tanned skin.

“Now, this gift is very special for two reasons. First, when I attach the chain
leash to this collar it signifies that I love you enough to want to walk you
around and show you off in front of friends and colleagues. Second, this collar
has a special feature that symbolizes in a very real way that I love you enough
to keep you near me at all times. Let me explain.”

Bret walked to his work bench and picked up what looked to Zara like some simple
television remote control. He pressed one simple button and the leather began to
constrict Zara’s neck, instantly blocking her ability to breathe. She wrapped
her hands around the collar vainly trying to squeeze her fingers between her
neck and the suffocating device. Bret pressed the button a second time and the
collar released its vice grip just as suddenly.

“Whenever you misbehave, I have only to cut off your oxygen supply and I think
you will get the message. Oh, and the other feature that I am really proud of?
It has a built in radius control device. If you stray from me in, oh, let’s say
in an escape attempt, the collar identifies that you have gone outside of your
allowed radius and it releases a non-lethal nerve gas that serves to
incapacitate you immediately. The gas causes a few small side effects like
severe abdominal cramps, miosis of the optic nerve, vomitting, and dizziness,
but they are relatively temporary.”

Zara only stared back in disbelief and disdain.

“Oh, and there is a fail-safe sensor in the collar, so that if for some reason
you were to remove the collar in my presence. You see, I am the center of your
world, therefore I am the center of your radius and the collar’s computer
recognizes me; it won’t release the gas within five feet of me I’m happy to say.
So, you see, you really are stuck with me, and wherever I choose to take you,
Zara.”

Having explained her dubious situation, Bret felt no harm was done by releasing
her ankles from their shackles. Once this was accomplished, he attached a
six-foot chain leash to her collar, and instructed Zara to prop herself up on
her hands and knees. He unlocked the steel door entry and led her along the dark
tunnel leading away from her cell. She “walked” in the humiliating fashion down
the narrow concrete path with Bret tugging on her neck if she slowed her pace.

“I’ve got a few dozen close friends coming over tonight, Zara,” he explained
while walking, “However, some of my friends are still nervous about the idea of
being seen with you. No, no, let me put it another way: Some of my more
prominent friends are nervous about being seen by you, and apparently, your
wearing a blindfold is just not assurance enough for them. Politicians and
actors can be so paranoid sometimes. Anyway, I promised to prepare you in a
special way just for them. After all, each person here tonight is paying big
bucks to fuck you, so how could I resist?”

Zara was utterly confused, and with the lack of sleep, she was finding it hard
to concentrate on his words, not to mention his meaning.

“Ah, here we are. Welcome to my humble clinic.”

Zara was led into a brightly lit room, much like a doctor’s office, decorated in
white on white. She was allowed to stand, and then commanded to lie back on the
table. She wanted to resist, her mind knew something wasn’t right here, but her
brain and body were so pliable now and easily commanded. Bret strapped her
wrists to the sides of the white table then strapped her ankles to either side.
He wrapped another tight band around her waist and cinched it. Bret followed
this by securing her collar and neck in place at the head of the table. She
could move only slightly at her joints, but otherwise she was vulnerable and
motionless.

“I know how you love these needles, but this operation is a little more
delicate, Zara. I need you to close your eyes and remain perfectly still. That’s
a good slave, close your eyes tightly for me.”

Zara was getting nervous again, and thought to herself, what body parts could he
mean. What could be more delicate than my pussy and nipples? Suddenly, she felt
the sensation of the needle. The new pain was coming from her left eyelid: Bret
was sewing her upper and lower eyelids together.

With her right eye she strained to see the source of this excruciating pain, but
she could only make out Bret’s hand moving up and down. Zara panicked and began
moving every muscle in her face and body. She was frantic and Bret couldn’t
subdue her with his own two hands. Finally, he stepped back several feet and
pressed the red button on his remote control. Within seconds, the nerve gas
knocked Zara out and all her muscles collapsed as if on cue. She would be
unconscious for this rare treatment.

It was the first time Bret had felt any ounze of compassion for his victim, and
as he completed his work routinely, the unusual thought of compassion scared
him.

She started to feel the sensation of something warm and and moist on her face.
Her dreams and nightmares were coming to a close and her return to consciousness
was imminent.

Zara felt like she was awake now, but as she tried desperately to open her eyes,
she could not. It suddenly came back to her, and the tightness along her eyelids
confirmed the fact: her lids had been sewn shut! She started to panic at this
realization, and wanted to fidget. But her restraints were not limited to the
thin flesh covering her eyes.

As the sleeping state wore off, Zara became physically aware of her situation.
Her head was tilted back further than she thought it would bend, almost to the
middle of her back, and her hair had been french-braided and tied to her ankle
restraints. Zara was resting uncomfortably on her knees, still wearing her
original high heels, with her neck straining to reach her ankles. And the warm
liquid sensation across her face? Oh, my God, she realized from the
smell….someone is pissing on me!

Actually, several people were taking their turns pissing on poor Zara. Her head
was leaned back and this allowed the male and female party guests to aim their
urine right down her cooperating throat. Some were missing the goal, but most
were striking the tongue and spraying Zara with the most bitter taste she had
ever known.

Once she gained consciousness again, she fought the party goers and spit the
incoming piss out; but Bret handled the insubordinance with appropriate measures
by squeezing the collar around her neck. Zara quickly remembered the
asphyxiating form of punishment and she suffered through additional pissing.

By the time this unseen ordeal was over, Zara had received the piss from 25
party-ers, and some of them had gone through the line twice. If she hadn’t been
so thirsty, and if Bret hadn’t starved her over the last 56 hours, then she
might have thrown up the contents in her stomach. But Zara was just that
thirsty, and just that hungry, that she didn’t seem to care anymore.

Eventually, Zara adjusted to the stitching in her eyelids, and the pain in her
joints as her body was stretched unnaturally. She overheard Bret’s voice and
keyed into his announcements. “Now that everyone has been relieved, feel free to
take your turn at fucking this lovely young slave. Cunt, mouth, ass—I expect
them all to be violated. Many times over in fact. Have at it, friends, and
whenever you feel like quitting, there will someone next to you who is willing
to take over.”

And so it happened just as Bret pronounced. Zara felt her pussy invaded by
strange cocks, some tentative, but most rough and violent. She felt her mouth
being covered by the lips of men and women alike. She could taste the alcohol
and appetizers on their breath. Zara felt the hands tug at her nipple rings, tug
until they almost ripped out of her body. And worse, she felt bodies rubbing
against her back where the fresh scars of her branding screamed in pain.

The fucking went on for hours. Men diving their cocks in her pussy, her ass, and
literally ripping her apart. She sceamed, but the screams of a slave only
excerbated their efforts. The anal thrusts came harder and even the women with
strap-on dildoes demonstrated no mercy. She had been penetrated multiple times
by 25 guests, and she had lost count of the total number of fucking violations.
75? Maybe 100 times? She couldn’t remember; it was all one big atrocious blur of
pain and penetration.

Strangely, she had expected to have men cum down her mouth. Her boyfriends
always preferred to splash cum on her face, so she was preparing herself
mentally for this insult. But none of the men released their cum on her
face.Zara felt a kind of relief, but she had no inkling of what Bret had planned
inadvance. The men were instructed to spew their loads into one of the champagne
glasses and when all of them were collected….

Bret brought the glass to his slave, who thought her fucking torment was
over.She was dead wrong. He got the attention of all invited then held the full
glass over Zara’s unsuspecting face. He quickly propped her jaw open wide and
tipped the glass to release the gooey white substance straight down her throat.
Zara was getting sick at her stomach, but she knew better than to resist. Maybe
there was still the slim chance that Bret would free her. She gulped the sperm
down and let nothing escape her mouth.

The guests were all mightily impressed, and several of them inquired about
“renting” her out from Bret. Zara kneeled at her master’s side and wondered if
and when she was to be sold off to someone else.

“Now, now, friends, before you ask, I have to tell you, my slave Zara doesn’t
come cheap. If you need to use her for a night or a weekend, we’re talking about
$10,000 easy. And if you plan on incorporating any serious means of punishment
or torture, well, we’re talking about maybe—-”

Suddenly, Bret’s voice was cut off without courtesy or warning. A heavily
accented Japanese man from the back silenced the room: “One million dollars! I
offer one million dollars to you sir, to buy your slave for my personal use—no
holds barred—for one week. One week, one million, no questions asked.”

The attention of the room focused on this man in shades, sitting on the long
leather sofa. All eyes then seemed to turn back to Zara and her master. Bret
stayed silent for a moment, then reminded himself of the money involved. He
looked down at the helpless Zara, watching her eyes—still sewn
together—manage to release a number of frightened tears. Zara cried because
her intuition told her that this foreign buyer would be worse than anything Bret
could dream up.

Part 3

Behind closed doors, Bret and the Japanese buyer, Mr. Yakuta, worked out the

details for the week-long exchange while Zara was returned to her original cell

to contemplate the painful events behind her and those ahead of her.

The party had long since concluded, and Zara had been violated several more

times by cocks and dildos. She had been forced to insert a 7-inch rubber dildo

in her cunt and walk around with it inside her for at least one whole hour. One

of the women, whose voice Zara thought she recognized from a recent blockbuster

movie, had ordered the insertion. It sounded like the woman was extremely drunk

or perhaps extremely high. Even in her forced blindness, Zara could feel the

beautiful curves of this woman’s body as the partyer rubbed up against Zara

while the dildo was in place. The others kept refering to this woman as “Cindy”,

but even with this aid, Zara couldn’t be sure if it was a known celebrity.

Cindy became very liberal with a whip once she got bored of the dildo insertion.

Zara was forced to stand and she felt the D-ring on her collar being attached to

a chain overhead. Once secured, the chain tightened and Zara’s body was lifted

slowly off the carpet by her thin neck.

The strain was incredible and it was obvious to everyone that Bret’s Slave was

having difficulty breathing. No one expressed any words of compassion over this,

of course. This was Zara’s first life experience with the whip and no amount of

mental preparation could have braced her body for the alarming sensation of

leather slashing across her skin.

Blow after blow, the whip rained on her back and front mercilessly. Cindy was

the main perpetrator, and she yelled in a state of excitement every time Zara

pleaded for relief. Cindy was quite beautiful herself, and in fact she was a

famous celebrity. The men around her were getting sexually aroused and decided

spontaneously that they had to have her. Cindy was too high to object, and she

was so caught up in her excitement that she was more than willing to take on a

gangbang of 15 or more cocks.

But even as Cindy was the new focus of sexual attention, Zara was not allowed to

rest. A trio of avowed lesbian models approached Zara’s sweating body, stretched

so seductively by the chains, and began to kiss and lick on the slave. At first,

this treatment was almost pleasant, but like everything else that was happening

to her, the treatment of Zara turned violent and painful.

The models brought out a matchbox and Zara could hear the stark sound of

individual strikes on the rough box. As a model would light a tall kitchen

match, she would bring it close to Zara and let the slave feel the approaching

heat. One of the models, named Jenny, liked to bring her matches right up to

Zara’s nipple rings and heat the ring up, conducting heat through the whole ring

which naturally transferred immense heat to the inside and outside of Zara’s

sensitive nipples.

Another model, whose name was something in German (and hard for Zara to recall),

preferred Zara’s asshole. The German model would bring her lit matches to Zara’s

asscheeks, watch Zara squirm at the sensation of heat, and then quickly snuff

the flame out by jamming the stick in Zara’s ass. The flame was small and

quickly extinguished each time, but each time, it burned Zara’s helpless flesh.

As Zara reviewed the events of the evening from her quiet and cold cell, she was

almost glad that her eyes remained sewn together. She did not want to view the

damage that had most certainly been done to her.

The steel cell door shook her from her thoughts and she heard the footsteps of

two men enter.

“Mr. Yakuta here has the honor of renting you first, Zara,” Bret said without my

emotion, “Now I had anticipated several one-night encounters for you first, my

dear, to gradually work you in. But as it happens, I am not about to turn down a

one million dollar contract for one week’s time.”

As if she would find it interesting to know the terms of their agreement, Zara

was read the documents that the two men had hastily drawn up. Among the clauses

that Bret emphasized, a torture section that did not include anything, but

rather frighteningly, only excluded three specific items: no dismemberment; no

disembowelment; and, under heavy financial penalty, no torture leading to death.

Zara realized instantly the gravity of her situation with Mr. Yakuta. Her new

master (for the contract week) said nothing as he approached his new slave. Bret

still carried on with the chatter; he felt he owed some explanation to the

pretty young thing that had refused his gestures on the casting couch.

“Zara, your week with Mr. Yakuta starts immediately, and he’s elected to keep

your stitches on your eyes indefinitely for the flight. He also prefers a

slightly different kind of leash, so I’m going to have to deactivate and remove

my collar for the time being.”

Mr. Yakuta unwound a chain from his inside suit pocket. Zara could hear the

links moving close to her pussy. She felt her two clit rings being adjusted and

then heard the click of metal snaps attaching to her rings. Mr. Yakuta then

placed a heavy padlock through her rings and the connected leash ring. When he

released the padlock from his grip, she instantly felt gravity at work on her

tender clit. The lock weighed perhaps 16 to 32 ounzes and the painful pulling of

her clit was registered all over her face.

Bret unlaced and removed Zara’s high heels at Mr. Yakuta’s request. Zara’s hair

was unbraided and allowed to fall loosely to the small of her back. Zara was

completely divested of anything on her body, save for the rings and chains. Mr.

Yakuta tugged on her clit leash, signalling that it was time to go. She began to

stand to walk, but suddenly she felt a tremendous fist slam into her stomach and

drop her to the floor.

“You will not stand or walk, unless commanded! Is that understood?”

Yakuta yelled.

“Yes, I under—”

Another blow, this time to her side.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir,” Zara managed to barely speak, “Yes, sir, I understand, sir.”

Zara assumed the doggie position and walked on her hands and knees out of the

cell. With her eyes sewn shut, it was difficult to keep up with her new master,

as he led her through the basement and the house where the party had transpired.

Zara was led outside and into the waiting limousine.

Once inside the plush backseat compartment, her clit chain was secured to an

eyebolt fashioned on the floor of the expensive car. Zara was instructed to

kneel with her hands behind her, her back arched, and her tits sticking out.

Just as Yakuta’s limo was pulling away, he leaned down to his new acquisition

and whispered into her ear.

“Say goodbye to your boyfriend Bret, slave. You are never coming back here.”

(the end??)

Introduction to Slavery

The girl woke with a start. She could not see a thing and realised that she was wearing a blindfold. She tried to take it off and found that it was locked in place. She realized that the blindfold was the only item of clothing that she had on. She was totally naked. She was beginning to panic. No one had seen her naked body besides her Doctor since she was a little girl. Where was she? She tried to stand up and quickly realized that she could not. There was only 4 feet of head room. As she tried to explore she realized that she was in a cage that was 4 feet in every direction. As she put her hands between the bars of her cage she realized that the cage must be suspended in midair as she could not feel a floor beneath the cage, nor any solid walls. She felt the cage rock as she moved.

She tried to think. How did she get here? The last thing she remembered was celebrating her 18th birthday with her boyfriend Stan McManus. Stan was handsome, rich and handsome, the star quarterback on the football team and guard on the basketball team. She loved to watch Stan play basketball when seeing his well muscled frame brought a tingling feeling between her legs. She loved Stan, and he loved her, enough that he even joined her in taking a vow of chastity until marriage. She felt it was important to save herself for their wedding night and Stan, rich handsome Stan, went along with her on this, as he did on so many other things. Of course she was the most beautiful girl in the town and Stan enjoyed showing her off to all his friends.

But what happened? She was taking a walk with Stan on the evening of her birthday. They were walking in the woods when she allowed Stan to give her a Birthday Kiss. All of a sudden she heard a loud klunk and Stan fell to the ground as if he had been shot. She started to scream when she felt hands around her arms and a smelly handkerchief was placed over her nose. She had been knocked out. Where was she? Was Stan alive? What did her abductors want? She made up her mind that she would defend her body as best as she could and try to remain faithful to Stan. She tried once more to find a way out, but after a few minutes the panic rose within her and she started to scream.All of a sudden she heard a loud booming voice. “SILENCE!! You are here to be trained for your new life as a slave. You will obey. You will not speak, scream or ask questions. You are permitted to scream while being punished but you may not use the word “no” or ask for mercy. As a matter of fact, when being punished, or when being tortured for our amusement, after your initial yell of pain, you must recite the following. “Thank you MY LORD, may I ask for another?”  You are a slave in training, a SLIT. You are less than nothing. For the time being you will answer to ZERO, for that is what you are. As you progress in your training, you may earn the privilege of a name. Right now you are ZERO and have no privileges. You will piss when you are told, you will shit when you are told. Disobedience will be punished. You will not play with yourself, nor will you cum unless ordered to do so, for our amusement. Your sole purpose in life is to give us pleasure. You will be trained for that purpose. You will thank us for taking the trouble to train you. You will address us as “MY LORD” or “MY LADY” as appropriate. Most of all, you will obey all orders as quickly and enthusiastically as if your life depended on it. We will not kill you. We will inflict on you such pain as to make you wish you were dead. However, as you are trained you will learn to enjoy your service and you will earn various rewards and privileges. Now, prepare to begin your training.”         Zero felt the cage being lowered. She did know what she was in for and was more scared than she had ever been in her life.

As the cage lowered to the floor the master thought of how best to break the new slave. Sure, he could continue to whip her until she broke, but with this one that might cause serious physical damage and that was something to be avoided if possible. And the Doctor had assured him, with some amazement, that the slave was a virgin, so he wanted to avoid rape scenarios until she was broken. He decided that he would go slow. Time was on his side. The slave had no idea whether it was day or night, or how long it was between sessions. He would force her to come to terms with her new status by thanking him for small routine things. Today she would thank him for being allowed to drink water, for being allowed to piss. Once she took that step, of thanking him for his “kindness” she would soon be begging him for permission to serve him in ways that she could not yet imagine.

The cage reached the ground and master reminded the slave:

“Remember ZERO, you are not permitted the privilege of speaking. The only thing permitted from your mouth are screams of pain when being disciplined and thank you’s to your LORD for granting you a privilege and for taking the time to train you. I will take you out of the cage. You will remain on your knees.”

ZERO felt a hand on her nipple pulling her roughly out of the cage. She gasped as she felt the harsh grip on her delicate nipple. she quickly hurried to ease the pain by crawling out of the cage.

The master was determined to move quickly and not give Zero a chance to get her mental equilibrium.

“The first thing you must learn is how to kneel. Spread your knees. Wider. As wide as they can go. Very good, Now, without moving your knees, raise your ass off the floor and bring it up as high as you can. Quickly, quickly, my orders are to be obeyed instantly,” as she felt the crack of a flogger against her ass. The flogger only stung but it was enough to get her attention and she moved her thighs perpendicular to the floor.

“Now lower your lips to the floor and place your hands beside your head.”

She hastened to obey, but not before she received another slash of the flogger on the other ass cheek.

“That’s right, that is the basic kneel position, which you will assume whenever commanded. Because you have obeyed you will receive a privilege. Maintaining your kneel position you will crawl forward 12 inches.”  Zero started to crawl and her nose bumped into something.

“Stop”  the master commanded. “That is your water bowl. You may raise your head and lap up the water from the bowl.”

Zero was stunned. To lap water, like a dog? She was thirsty, but… Suddenly she felt the whip across her ass. Not a sting like the flogger, but a strong unbearable pain as the whip slashed down across both cheeks.

“Quickly, my orders are not to be questioned or thought about, but to be obeyed instantly.”

Zero quickly raised her lips above the bowl and started to lap the water. The water was cold and tasty. Zero lapped it greedily. She did not know this but it had been 36 hours since she last ate or drank. The cold water was refreshing as she lapped it up. She rapidly finished the bowl as she ran her tongue over the entire bowl to capture any stray drop. The master waited as she finished. He gave ZERO five seconds to take the next step on her own. ZERO had forgotten her instructions and she felt three more strokes of the whip, in rapid succession. She screamed in agony. Before her screaming ended, and before she could earn more punishment by talking, the master spoke harshly.

“You did not thank me for the privilege I gave you. You enjoyed the water, you drank it greedily. You must thank me for giving water to a worthless SLIT such as yourself”.

Zero was still in pain and knew the pain would only grow worse. She did not have time to prepare her mind and body for the pain that was being inflicted on her ass. She was preparing her thank you when she felt another lash, this one on the sensitive top of her thighs. She dared not move from her kneeling position as she knew that act would be considered an act of defiance. She gulped and through her tears of agony she heard herself say “Thank you MY LORD for granting this unworthy SLIT, this ZERO, The privilege of being allowed to drink water, such cool, delicious water.” As she was speaking, she remembered the instructions she had received and quickly determined that they had best be obeyed. She continued “Thank you, MY LORD for taking the time and effort to discipline this worthless SLIT, and I beg to be granted the honor and privilege of further discipline. Would MY Lord be so kind and generous as to whip me again.”Master smiled. He knew that while there would be many battles still to be fought the war was over. He said with a smile “Since you ask so nicely”,  and gave Zero one final slash with a thin whippy cane, starting from the floor and hitting across her cunt lips. Zero screamed for thirty seconds before she was able to pull herself together and pant out, through her flowing tears.

“Thank you MY LORD for whipping this worthless SLIT and I beg you to whip me again.”

Master said, “No, you have begun to learn your place. It is time to grant you another privilege.”

The Master put a collar on ZERO’s neck and told her to follow him as he pulled on her leash. The floor was hard marble and hurt her knees, but she followed the tug of the leash quickly and quietly. Suddenly she was ordered to stop and she heard the master walk in back of her. “I am going to grant you another privilege, because of your good behavior. At the count of three you will piss. Maintain your position. One, two three.”

Not having time to think, and having a full bladder, she found herself pissing before her masters gaze. As she was peeing, she wondered what had happened to her? How had she fallen to such humiliation so quickly? She started to cry in her humiliation. The master noticed and immediately gave her something to cry about. Quickly he gave her 4 whacks with his special ping pong paddle, made of hard wood and covered with sandpaper.

“How dare you cry for no reason? You are being given a privilege. Now, stop this crying and thank me properly.”

Master was being careful to cue ZERO in her duties. His purpose was to extract obedience, not to beat her into a pulp. He wanted rapid, unthinking obedience to his commands and would use pain and discipline quickly but in small doses to get what he wanted.

Zero stopped thinking of the humiliation of pissing before her masters gaze, she thought she had pissed all over the floor, but actually master had positioned her in front of a “urinal” a piece of marble that was lifted up and caught the flow of piss and directed it down into an underground creek where it would be flushed away. She rapidly caught her breath and quickly thanked her LORD for granting her the great privilege of pissing, even though as a  SLIT (Slave In Training) she was unworthy of such a privilege. Master was pleased with her obedience, but there was one more lesson for her to learn before he would conclude this session.

“Very good, Zero. For sanitary reasons I have to make sure your cunt is clean. I am going to teach you a new position. Place your hands over the back of your head. Lie flat on your back, hands now supporting your head. Keep your knees wide apart and raise your knees so the balls of your feet are flat on the ground. Keep your knees wide apart. Very good, This is the basic on your back position.”

Zero placed herself quickly in this humiliating position. She realized that she  was exposing herself like a cheap prostitute. She knew she had to obey because the pain of disobedience was more than she could stand, but she sobbed in her humiliation.

“I am going to grant you another privilege. I am going to have my personal slave, Shiteater, clean your filthy cunt.” Zero suddenly felt two soft hands gently separating her pussy lips and a soft tongue gently licking her pussy clean of piss. She gasped as she felt hot breath on her clit, she never felt anything like this before in her life. A quick slash across her tits brought her back to reality. “Well,”  said her Master harshly, “have you forgotten to thank Shiteater and your master for cleaning your filthy cunt?”ZERO quickly recited her ritual thank you’s. “Thank you MY LORD for granting this unworthy SLIT, this ZERO, the great privilege of having her cunt cleaned, and thank you slave Shiteater for cleaning my filthy cunt with your sweet mouth and tongue”.

“Very well, Zero, I think you should thank Shiteater properly. She will place her cunt over your lips, and you will lick it and suck it until you satisfy her. If you lack enthusiasm for this assignment, Shiteater will bite your cunt lips and clit until she draws blood. If you please her with your efforts she will bring you to the brink of ecstasy.”

Shiteater quickly placed her pussy over Zero’s lips and bent over so she was licking and sucking on Zero’s cunt and clit. Shiteater had been told that the girl was inexperienced, and tried hard to give Zero pleasure so that she would learn how to reciprocate. Unfortunately, more than 30 seconds went by with no movement from Zero’s mouth or tongue. Shiteater took Zero’s clit into her mouth and instead of sucking on it gently, she bit down on it harshly and cruelly. She did not stop until she tasted Zero’s blood.

Zero had never been with a woman before. The very thought revolted her. Although she could feel the pleasure that Shiteater was giving her, she could not bring herself to reciprocate. Then she felt this tremendous pain where she had been feeling great pleasure. Her instinct for self protection kicked in as she rapidly started licking Shiteater’s cunt. Shiteater responded by sucking and licking at Zero’s cunt and clit as skillfully as she could. With all her training, that was very skillfull indeed. There were very few in the world that could compete with Shiteater in sucking pussy, which is why she had been chosen for this assignment. Shiteater was rapidly reaching her own climax under Zero’s enthusiastic, if not skillful ministrations. Although she had been given permission to come, she knew that Zero had not been granted that privilege, so she skillfully kept Zero on the edge, not letting her come, but not letting her down from the peak. As Shiteater reached her climax, Master called a halt. “Shiteater, wipe your pussy juice off on Zero’s face and body”. After Shiteater finished, master instructed Zero to kneel. Zero was utterly humiliated, but was shivering with desire and was aching to come. Master grabbed her leash and walked her back to her cage. “Remember Zero, you are forbidden to come, or even to touch yourself unless you are ordered to do so and you are not yet worthy of that privilege. Thank Shiteater for her services, unless you want a severe whipping.”

Zero quickly responded, “Thank you Shiteater for the pleasure you have given me by sucking and licking on my cunt and clit. I am truly a Zero unworthy of the pleasure you have given me. And I thank you MY LORD, for taking the time and effort to train this filthy unworthy SLIT, this Zero. Thank you for the great privileges you have granted me, allowing me to drink delicious water, to piss, to have my filthy cunt cleaned and my cunt and clit licked and sucked for the first time. I await your further orders and offer myself for your pleasure.”

Master smiled and locked the cage. He had it hoisted in the air, where it would hang until the next session. This session had been very successful. He took a final look at Zero, still trembling with her newly awakened sexual passion. He wondered if she would be able to resist the temptation to bring herself to climax. If she did, he would know about it and she would be punished. But that was for next session. Now he was going back to his room and put Shiteater through her paces. After all he had not climaxed yet either.

CHAPTER TWO

Past and Present

The master went to his room and sat on his comfortable club chair.

“Shiteater, polish my shoes with your tongue.”

Shiteater immediately moved her tongue over masters shoes and started her careful work. Master relaxed and started to remember. It was 25 years ago that he joined the “group.” That was the only name he knew to call his bosses. He still only knew 1 of them after working for 25 years, and that only by first name. Not that he was complaining.Twenty five years ago he was just thrown out of the Army. He had been in Army intelligence and was the best interrogator in his unit, maybe in the army, but he developed a reputation for using methods that were not in the book. In other words, not only did he get physical, but he was extremely imaginative in his threats. Although nothing was ever proven, the Army did not let him renew his enlistment. If truth be told, most, though not all, the stories told about him were exaggerations. He always had the knack for saying or doing the right thing at the right time to scare the shit out of the people he was interrogating and as much pain as he had to inflict he never left a mark.

He was drifting after he left the Army. He was working as a bouncer, where he found he was able to diffuse most fights before blows were struck. He found himself being befriended by Jake, who went out of his way to strike up conversations with him. After a week, Jake offered him a job. “Come over to my house and I’ll tell you about it.”

Jake looked down at his shoes and saw that Shiteater had done a beautiful job on his shoes. “Now lick my ass,” he said as he took off his pants and underwear and lay down on his stomach. Shiteater knelt between his legs and began using her skilled tongue to clean his sweaty ass.

As they drove to Jake’s house, Dave, as he was known then, asked Jake what this was about.

“Our group needs someone to help train slaves.” Dave did not know how to respond. “I’m taking you to my house so you can see the results of our training. You were recommended by a superior officer in the army. He liked your willingness to use torture to break a prisoner and your ability to do so with a minimum of permanent damage. Our group is always looking for people with these talents and we pay very well.”

Somehow Dave got the idea that Jake would tell him what he needed to know and that curiosity on his part would be dangerous, so he just sat silently.

When they came to Jake’s house, Dave saw that it was large, luxurious and completely isolated. When they entered, Dave saw a pretty girl in a short French Maid’s costume carefully polishing the silver chandelier. She was standing on a ladder and Dave could see her pussy as she was wearing no underwear.

“Slave, my friend Dave is staring at your Pussy. Undress and show it to him.”

The girl immediately removed her outfit and, totally naked walked over to where Dave was standing and bent over backward, using her hands to spread her pussy lips.

“Dave this is my slave. You have 1 hour to do with her whatever you please. Whip her, torture her, fuck her in any and every hole. I want you to be convinced that she is really a well trained slave and that I am going to offer you a very lucrative opportunity.”

And so for the next hour, Dave whipped the slave, across her back, her ass, her tits and her cunt. Between bouts with the whip, he used his fingers to pinch and squeeze her nipples and her clit. He used a candle to pour hot wax on her tits. Finally, he had her kneel in front of him while he fucked her face. At last he took a large dildo and shoved it up her cunt and kept it there while he shoved his own hard cock up the girls asshole. He fucked her ass as hard as he could until he finally shot his load deep into the girls tight rear door. He had the girl lick and clean his cock after he finished, and the girl concluded her service by thanking him for honoring her by using her for his pleasure. The girl then went to Jake and kneeled before him, her ass high in the air and her lips on the ground.

“What should I do with you, giving yourself so wantonly to another man.”

“ Punish me master, please. I beg you master to punish me harshly.”

Jake directed the girl to stand up, spread her legs and grip her ankles. Count ten with the whip, said Jake. He took out a harsh whip, and whipping upward, landed a harsh blow on his slaves pussy lips.

“One, thank you master, for punishing your unworthy slave.”

Dave could see tears flowing from the girls eyes. Two, three, four. Dave could see the girls muscles tense as she struggled to maintain her position. Without any bindings or support, it would have been easy for her to move but she struggled to fulfill her Master’s desire. Seven, eight, nine, Dave could see snot flying out of the girls nose. For the tenth lash Jake switched to a thick bullwhip which he continued to use on his slaves cunt. This harsh lash brought the slave to an entirely new level of pain and she struggled to maintain her position.

“Ten, thank you master for punishing your unworthy slave and may I beg my master for the honor of another stroke,” the girl sobbed.

“Very well, one more, since you ask so nicely. Stand up straight and put your hands over your head.”

Jake measured very carefully and slashed the bullwhip across the girls tits. The girls scream was as loud as Dave had ever heard. “Thank you master” the girl was finally able to gasp out.

“Well, Dave , do you believe me now?”

I guess so, said Dave and that was the start of his working for the group. He never regretted it.

Twenty five years. Dave shook himself awake as Shiteater continued to lick and clean his ass. It was time to put Shiteater through her paces. He had her lie on the floor and he lowered an iron bar from the ceiling. He attached her ankles and wrists to the bar and raised her up so she was waist high. Her thighs were spread wide and her entire body was open to whatever he wanted to do. He started by tying a rope tightly around her tits. He could see her tits swell and turn purple. He then began placing clamps around her aureole and finally, on the nipple. Shiteater responded to each assault by moaning and crying, but constantly repeating,

“Thank you master for punishing me. My purpose is only to give you pleasure and I hope my pain pleases you. Would Master please honor his slave by torturing his slave some more.”

When master finished with Shiteater’s tits he took a flogger and started to work on her thighs. He then took a paddle and started to work on her upturned ass. First one cheek then the other, five, ten, twenty on each cheek. Shiteater’s screams were constant as each time they started to fade, Master added another stroke. Finally, he finished with the paddle, and took up a riding crop which he used to attack Shiteater’s pussy lips and clit. Five, ten and finally twenty lashes across her most sensitive areas.

“Thank you master for punishing your unworthy slave and may my LORD honor me with another stroke.”

Again and again, Shiteater moaned and gasped between her gasps of pain. Finally, Master put down his whip and positioned himself between her thighs. He grasped his slave by her torn ass and pulled her spread cuntlips over his large rock hard cock. After adjusting the bar to get maximum penetration, he gripped her ass cheeks and pulled her hard until his cock had penetrated her to the maximum. Quickly, he continued to fuck his slave using his strength to pull and push his slave on and off his mighty cock. Even though he had not stimulated his slaves pussy, it was dripping wet from the whipping she had received. Shiteater knew that she could not come without permission from her master and struggled to control herself as Master pounded her pussy. She hoped that her harsh whipping might earn her the privilege of coming. Master started to gasp as he felt Shiteater start to groan as she struggled to control her climax.

Master felt his own climax coming on and decided to be kind to his slave. “Cum on the count of three , One, two, three.” He felt his slaves cunt muscles spasm around his hard cock, and that set off his own climax, as he held her cunt tightly against his cock. Each of her spasms set off one of his, and they continued reenforcing each others rising climax. Finally, he was drained.

Shiteater was moaning her thank you’s with more than her usual sincerity. He released her and immediately she went on her knees, cleaning his cock with her tongue and mouth.

“Thank you for honoring your slave with your cum. Thank you for allowing your slave the great privilege of being allowed to cum. Thank you for allowing me to serve you.”

Master got dressed and put a collar and leash around Shiteater’s neck. It was time to resume his training of Zero.

CHAPTER THREE

Obedience Lessons

Zero was shivering in her cage, as it shook in mid-air. She was scared, hurt, hungry and humiliated. She had been abducted and had no idea of where she was or who was responsible. This was beyond her worst nightmare. She was determined to find out what was going on. She was a human being, not an animal. She could not allow herself to go along with this mistreatment. She felt the cage being lowered and felt this was her chance to assert herself.

“What is going on here? Where am I? Who are you? Let me out of here. “

She started yelling in a panic. She got no response. When the cage reached the floor she felt a fierce pinch and tug on her nipple. She was pulled out of the cage and was  whipped five times on her ass.

“You know you are not allowed to talk. The whipping on your ass was just to get your attention. You will be punished for your disobedience with more pain than you can imagine.”

She was pulled by her chains and then told to stand up. She was tied to a hard bed and her arms and legs were attached to a rack. Her arms and legs were pulled tight, not enough to cause pain, but so she could not move. Zero was terrified. Still wearing nothing but a blindfold, she could not see anything. She felt a strap around her waist which left her unable to move a muscle.

All of sudden she felt a burning sensation on her cunt. Hot wax was dripping over her cunt. She screamed and kept on screaming.

“A slave is not entitled to cunt hair. It was going to be shaved off but your disobedience caused a different method of hair removal.”

The hot wax continued to pour down on Zero’s cunt until the entire area, all her cunt hair, was covered with wax. Zero was screaming with pain. The wax was allowed to harden and Zero gradually caught her breath. All of a sudden she felt a hand on her belly and then the most fierce intense pain that she had ever felt in her life. The wax was being lifted from her cunt and all her cunt hair was being ripped from her skin at the same time.

Zero was wracked with pain. She screamed until she was hoarse. She did not know what to do, she could  not move. She felt snot coming out of her nose from the pain. As the pain was beginning to fade and come under control she felt a whip across her tits.

“ Have you forgotten all your lessons? There is no limit to the pain that I can inflict. What do you have to say?”

Zero remembered the rules. Wracked with pain as she was, she did not have the strength, or the time to weigh her alternatives. She knew that her only chance of avoiding further pain was to start immediately to give thanks. Through her tears she sobbed.

“Thank you, My Lord, for punishing me. Thank you, My Lord for training this worthless Zero. Thank you for teaching this worthless Zero that it is forbidden to talk without permission. Thank you,  My Lord, for giving me pain.”

“Very good, Zero, You are learning. Now it is time for you to eat. I have prepared some of your favorite foods. Two soft boiled eggs, salad, cottage cheese, and four ounces of hamburger.”

Zero was unchained and put on her knees. She anticipated enjoying her meal as she was hungry, and indeed, the foods were ones that she enjoyed. She did not anticipate being pulled on her knees to a big bowl and being ordered to eat. Everything was in that one bowl, mixed together in one smelly, disgusting, mess. “Eat, slave, Eat” she was ordered, accompanied by a slash on her ass. Still she hesitated, overwhelmed by the awful smell. This time, the whip fell on her sore cunt. Zero put her head in the bowl and started to lick up the messy food in the bowl. She gagged on the taste and had to be encouraged by strokes of the flogger on her ass. Finally she was finished. She tried to keep the food in her stomach as she was gagging with nausea.

“Thank you My Lord, for allowing Zero to eat her favorite foods, for giving her a nutritious meal. Thank you My Lord for continuing to spend your time and effort training such a worthless slit.”

Zero thought she had made it and then her stomach betrayed her. She upchucked, she vomited right on the floor. She knew she was in trouble.

“Lick it up. Use your nose, and lick wherever you smell your disgusting vomit. Quickly, quickly. “

She was encouraged by a lash across her cunt lips and she sobbed as she licked up her vomit.

“How dare you vomit out food that is given to you. You eat what we give you, drink what we give you, piss when and where we tell you and shit, when and where we tell you. You will come when we tell you, you will fuck and suck on command. You are an owned slave, your body and your very thoughts belong to us. The only thought that we permit you is to think of how you can please us. You are not permitted to think whether the food is tasty, attractive or nutritious, only that we command you to eat it.”

Zero did her best to lick up her vomit while being flogged on her ass. Finally she finished. She was stunned and breathless. Master felt further punishment would not be productive so he prompted Zero by saying impatiently “Well, don’t you have something to say?” Zero immediately began reciting her thank you’s. She realized that she could not withstand further punishment.

“Thank you My Lord, for punishing me. Thank you My Lord for pulling out all my cunt hair as a punishment for talking. Thank you My Lord for whipping my ass after I was so unappreciative of your kindness that I threw up the food that you gave me. Thank you for making me lick up my vomit. Thank you My Lord for training me to be a slave. Would My Lord be so kind to continue my punishment?”

”Yes, Zero, you deserve further punishment.”

Master reached over to Zero’s tits and placed a clothespin on each nipple.

“You know that you are not permitted to touch these clothespins?”

“Yes, My Lord.” She gasped through her pain.

She was again pulled by her leash till she felt her nose bump into something. “Drink” she was commanded as she had a bowl of milk in front of her. She licked the bowl clean with her tongue. The milk had a funny taste, but Zero did not hesitate. She was exhausted and could not take further punishment, She immediately thanked master for giving her such a tasty drink.  Master decided that the session had gone on long enough and pulled Zero back to her cage.

“The clothespins will stay on until our next session. You must be conscious that your only purpose is to give us pleasure and you must accept that your pain gives us pleasure. I will leave you to rest as you will need your strength for further training.”

With that, Master pulled the cage up in the air and left Zero to rest. Of course, he would know if Zero touched the painful clothespins. He hoped she was smart enough to leave them in place. She would need her strength for her next session.

CHAPTER FOUR

Humiliation and Pleasure

The master reviewed the session in his mind as he went back to his room to take a short rest. He knew he would have to return for another session with Zero very soon. He was upset that Zero vomited. It left him no choice but to punish her, and coming on top of having all her cunt hair pulled out with the wax, it was more pain than he wanted to inflict at this early stage of her training. He would be careful to make the next session humiliating, rather than painful. Anyone could whip a slave into senselessness. The Master turned women into true slaves, who found meaning and pleasure in their slavery and were proud of their ability to bear pain.

Master thought back to that day twenty five years ago when Jake introduced him to the group.

“I work, said Jake, “for a group of extremely wealthy people. They have more money than you can dream of. They surround this operation with layers and layers of security. You will start off as an assistant trainer. The pay is generous, $125,000. a year to start. Our slaves are trained so that they can appear in public with no risk to their owners. Some work as maids or secretaries, some become trophy wives. Some are sold outside this country, where the culture is different. Whatever, when a slave is brought to auction, there can be not the slightest doubt that she is a slave heart and soul, that she is not waiting for an opportunity to escape. When we finish training, the worst threat we can give to a slave trainee is to throw her out of the training program.

The group has a number of facilities across the country. You will find that wherever you are assigned, you will have all the luxuries of a five star hotel. You will have all the tools you need for training the slaves. The facilities are isolated and even if a slave should make it out of our secure facility, which has never happened, she will find herself in the middle of nowhere.

You will be paid through a shell company. Your taxes will be done for you. Eventually, after your probationary period, you will be allowed to leave the facility on vacations. You will occasionally be allowed to benefit from stock tips. Since you will have no expenses, you will retire a very wealthy man. All we ask is that you use your abilities to help train our slaves and ask no questions.”

Dave took the job and never regretted it. Ten years after he joined the group, he was promoted to Trainer and his pay was doubled, to $250,000.  per year. He owned a luxurious condo in Trump Plaza and a villa on the French Riviera. Five years ago, he asked Jake if he could attend an auction and purchase a slave for himself. Jake told him that for security reasons he could not attend an auction with members of the group but he would be allowed an employee discount. He could pick out a slave that he had trained and be allowed to purchase it for only one million dollars. Dave did a double take, till Jake explained that many slaves go for two or three times that price, as the demand for well trained slaves always exceeded supply.

So he purchased Shiteater and never regretted it. Tomorrow he would have a little party to celebrate his anniversary. He invited Jake to attend. Jake said he would glad to attend and he had some news for him about the job. This worried him. He thought the group may feel he was too old for the job. He had never discussed retirement and, although he could well afford to retire he had no desire to leave his job. He loved it. Sure, he was in his midfifties, but he was still able to function and was still the best trainer in the business.

Anyway, he had killed about an hour and it was time to get back to work. Zero had been given a heavy dose of laxatives with her milk and, as he checked the monitor, was shaking and trembling to control her bowels. She did not want the humiliation of shitting in her cage and further, knew she would be punished severely if she did. Master was pleased to see that Zero had not touched the clothespins that were still torturing her nipples.

Zero was still wearing only a blindfold and had no idea how much time had passed by. All she knew was that she was in agony. Her tits were being tortured and the fact that she could take off the clothespins at any time but dared not, only added to her agony. And she was practically bent over double with her need to shit.  The cage was shaking as she trembled.

Zero felt the cage being lowered. She heard Master’s voice

“Zero, you have my permission to make a request. You may beg for a boon. “

Zero immediately begged , “Master I beg you as humbly as I can, please may I go to the bathroom?”

Master laughed. “Zero, slaves don’t go to the bathroom. You will never go to the  bathroom again as long as you live.  Try again. “

Zero was not sure what Master was getting at. “Please, Master, I beg you, I need to move my bowels”

“You need to shit, Zero, say it, say it.”

Zero was humiliated but had no choice. She was sobbing and trembling with the effort to control herself.

“ Please Master, Zero begs for permission to shit.”

“Not very good, but it will do for a first try. Here is a bucket. Sit on it, but do not shit until I give you the command.”

Zero sat on the bucket and waited. Master removed the clothespins which added to her agony. Then he gave the order: “Shit” Immediately Zero released her bowels and the shit flowed into the bucket. She sobbed with relief. All of a sudden she felt the slash of a cane across her tits.

“Thank you My Lord, thank you for granting me permission to Shit and for removing the clothespins from my nipples. Thank you for training me to be a slave.”

Zero finished and master ordered her to resume her kneeling position. All of a sudden she felt a tongue between her ass cheeks. Shiteater was cleaning her filthy ass with her tongue.

“We cannot let you continue with a filthy ass. Thank Shiteater for cleaning you.”

“ Thank you Shiteater for licking the shit out of my ass. Thank you My Lord for taking care of me and keeping me clean.”

“Very well, Zero, but Shiteater has gotten some of your shit on her nose. She will stick her nose in your mouth and you will lick it off.”

Zero was more and more humiliated.  She had no choice and for the first time in her life she found herself tasting shit. She did not know how much lower she could go. Then she felt a whip on her ass and she realized that her degradation had no limits.

“Thank you My Lord, and thank you Shiteater for allowing me the privilege and pleasure of eating shit. “

Master felt that it was time to begin Zero’s real training.

“ Stand up, clasp your hands in back of your head. Legs apart, further apart. That’s good. That’s the standing position.”

Master moved over to Zero and started stroking her tits softly. He enjoyed their feel and watched as her nipples harden. He ran his hands down over her body and put his hand on Zero’s cunt. He could feel her cunt getting wet. Zero was broken. She had never been played with, never allowed herself to be so stimulated. She wanted to back away, to protest, to scream, but she dared not. She allowed herself to enjoy the pleasure she was feeling.

All of a sudden she felt a paddle across her ass cheeks. She roused herself to thank her Lord for the great pleasure he was giving to his worthless slave, by playing with her tits and cunt.

“How could you not appreciate the honor and privilege that I granted you. Very well, since you do not appreciate pleasure, I will stop. Kneel.”

Zero fell to her knees. Then she was told to spread her knees further and move her ass back to her ankles and straighten from the waist. She was instructed to hold her hand behind her head.  In a few seconds she felt masters fingers squeezing her nose. She opened her mouth to breath and immediately felt something forcing its way between her lips. Master was forcing his large cock between Zero’s lips and down her throat.

“Open wide, if I feel your teeth on my cock, you will regret it”.

Zero opened her mouth as wide as she could and tried not to gag as Master rammed his big hard cock in and out of her mouth. Master was now going to begin the serious business of training Zero to give pleasure.

Master rammed his cock into Zero’s mouth till her lips were buried in his pubic hair. He kept it there for five seconds while he felt Zero gag.

“Get used to it quickly, Zero. This is one of the three main ways you have to please a Master. The others are with your ass and with your cunt. We shall train you till you are expert in all three.”

Zero struggled to breath as the massive cock kept plowing into her mouth. She had never seen a cock, let alone sucked on one. She was horrified at masters words. Was he serious? They will train her to use her ass? She had never heard of such a thing. Meanwhile, she struggled not to gag as master pounded the back of her throat. Master reached down and pinched her nipples harshly.

“You are not thinking of giving me pleasure. That is the only thing that you are allowed to think about. I am going to honor you by coming in your mouth and you will be careful to swallow every precious drop.”

Master rammed his cock faster and faster through Zeros soft lips. He could feel her tears flowing as she felt the pain in her throat and from her pinched and twisted nipples. He pinched them even harder as she struggled to breath. He suddenly let go of her nipples and placed both hands behind Zero’s head as he came in great spurts. Zero felt the spurt in her mouth and her first reaction was to spit it out. She managed to control her reflex and started to swallow as the cum was flooding her mouth. Half a dozen times and more, her mouth filled with cum and she swallowed, the cock was still hard and spurting. Finally, the spurting ended and she felt the massive cock begin to shrink.

“Suck, lick and swallow,” the master screamed as he punctuated his words with a slap across the face.

“That is your job. You should be honored that I give you my cock to worship and my cum to drink.”

Finally, Master withdrew his cock.

“Thank you master for allowing me to feel your massive cock in my mouth, Thank you for allowing me to give you pleasure, Thank you for allowing me the honor of swallowing your cum.”

“That was your first lesson. This time I did all the work. I just used your mouth as a hole. You will be trained to use your tongue and lips, to worship a cock, to love the taste and smell. But because you were successful in swallowing I am going to allow Shiteater to pleasure you, but remember, you are not permitted to cum.”

Zero felt Shiteater’s tongue on her lips, her breath on her clit. Her juices started to flow as she was rapidly reaching peaks of pleasure that she would not have believed possible before she was enslaved. Her breathing grew rapid. She knew she was not allowed to cum, but did not know if she would be able to control herself.

“Enough” said the Master. “It is time to put Zero back to her cage to rest, but first we have a special surprise”.

Zero was happy that Shiteater stopped licking her cunt and clit but then she felt something being attached to her lips.

“It’s a custom made vibrator,” Master explained. “It will feel as if your cunt lips are being stroked and sucked. It will not directly touch your clit so that even though you will want to cum, the device will not make you cum. And remember, if you cum, you will be punished. Now let’s put you back in your cage.”

Chapter Five                                              Pleasure and pain

Zero was in torment. She was in her cage, a four foot cube, hanging from the ceiling. The cage shook as Zero trembled from the unaccustomed waves of pleasure that were keeping her on the edge of ecstasy. Finally she could resist no longer and she reached down between her legs and touched her clit lightly. That was all that she needed. For the first time in her innocent life she climaxed. She never felt such pleasure. Her body was racked with pleasure and her cunt spasmed  and flexed, tightening around an imaginary cock. Slowly Zero returned to normal, but the vibrator kept up its work and Zero again felt herself returning to the peak of sexual excitement. Her breathing quickened, her pulse raced as her body again paid the price for the devilish vibrator attached to her cunt lips. Zero realized that she was already in trouble and was determined to resist the temptation. She was not going to  touch her clit. She was not going to come. The vibrator kept up its insidious work and Zero was squirming, on the verge of coming. What made it worse for Zero, was that being blindfolded, she had no way of knowing how much time had passed. She was praying for her master to come back and punish her for coming without permission. She did not want to come a second time.

Finally her body betrayed her. It was just a brief touch of her finger on her clit that set her off, even harder than her first cum,  as she had endured more stimulation before allowing herself to climax. She screamed with pleasure as the sensations radiated from her cunt all through her body. She felt her juices squirting out of her cunt and across her cage.  Once again, the release let her down from the peak she had reached, and once again, the vibrator did its work, bringing her back to the edge. Once again, she wanted to cum more than anything else. Once again, she feared punishment. As the stimulation continued, Zero started to rationalize. She thought to herself: If master knew what I was doing, why didn’t he come in after the first time? Or after the second? I screamed so loud, that if he was paying attention, he must have noticed. If no one is paying attention, then why am I tormenting myself when I could be enjoying great pleasure . With that she reached between her legs and rubbed her clit.

All hell broke loose. Just as she was starting to come, Zero heard Master’s voice.

“Enjoying yourself, Zero?”

Zero tried to control her climax, but it was too late. Master entering had put a damper on her cum and it was comparatively weaker than her first two.

“ Zero, you do not understand. You have no right to pleasure. You belong to us, like a table, or a chair. You are here only for our pleasure. Your pleasure will come from pleasing us. You will learn to understand this. Now we will begin to teach you this lesson by punishing you. You came three times. I will give you 10 strokes for the first offense, 20 for the second and 30 for the third . That is a total of 60. You will be restrained.”

Master lowered the cage and pulled Zero out by her tit. He dragged her, still on her knees, across the marble floor.

“Piss”, Master commanded. “I do not want you to piss under punishment.”

Zero once again pissed under her masters gaze. When she finished, Master pulled her, again on her knees across the hard marble floor. She was pulled to her feet  and was chained by her ankles and wrists in a great X.

“I will start with 10 across the back” Master took a leather cat and laid the first stroke across Zero’s back.  Master took his time, letting Zero catch her breath before laying the second stroke across the first. Slowly, Master continued his torture, Zero was screaming as she felt each blow. Tears flowed from her eyes and drool from her mouth. She twisted and turned in her bonds as she tried to ease her pain from the whipping. Finally the Master counted 10 and Zero thanked her master for punishing her. She begged for further punishment as blood dripped from the marks on her back.

Master moved to Zero’s ass. He took a special ping pong paddle, not padded with rubber, but with a sheet of sand paper glued to the hard wooden surface. He worked gradually over both ass cheeks. The cheeks quickly turned red and bloody under the paddle. Zero screamed in agony, her back and ass were like a piece of meat.  Finally, Master reached 10 and Zero panted her thank you through her tears. Once again she asked for further punishment.

Master walked in front of Zero and took a small doggie whip. He brought it down over Zero’s belly. Zero screamed. The second blow fell lower, on the area that had just recently been covered with cunt hair. Zero never dreamt of being whipped there, so close to her most intimate lips. Zero then made a big mistake.

“NO,” she screamed, “Please, have mercy.”

Master laughed.

“Zero, you know better than that, you have just earned further punishment.”

With that, the master took a thin rope and tied it tightly around Zeros back. He then wrapped it tightly around the base of her breasts, cutting off the circulation, causing her tits to swell and turn purple. When he had tied them tightly he took two clamps and placed one on each nipple. The clamps had a screw that could be tightened, and he used a screwdriver to tighten them as far as possible. Zero was in agony. He then attached chains to each clamp and pulled on the chains till her tits were stretched so that Zero felt the nipples would be torn from her body. He attached the chains to a ring on the  wall and then paused to let Zero appreciate the affects of her plea for mercy.

“Well, Zero, what do you have to say for yourself?”

Zero roused herself and did what she had to do.

“Thank you Master for punishing me, Thank you for torturing my tits. Thank you for training me to be a slave.”

Master slashed at her tortured tits. This was the time for another break through.

“The words are fine Zero, but you must say them like you mean it. I want to hear the gratitude in your voice, I want to hear enthusiasm as you express your gratitude for the time and effort that I am expending on your training.”

Zero had taken acting in High School. She reached back to her lessons and from somewhere deep inside her self she  graciously thanked her Lord and Master for correcting her by whipping her and torturing her tits. Master smiled.

“Better, but you’ll have to improve as we continue training.”

Master continued to whip Zero on her belly and pubic area. Slowly, each blow continued to fall as Zero screamed. As she twisted in her chains she brought more pain to her tortured tits. Finally master counted to 10 and looked over the markings on Zero’s belly. Zero did her best to thank her master, trying to find the proper enthusiasm in her voice.

Master reached for his flogger as he moved to a new area on Zero’s tortured body. Now Zero felt a blow against her swollen and stretched tits. First the left, then the right, as master alternated, going slowly, so that Zero was kept in constant pain. Her tits, usually a source of pleasure, were now total agony. After ten blows on her tits, Zero again was forced to thank her master with a forced humbleness and enthusiasm. She did not know how she would survive the 20 lashes she still had coming.

Master reached for a thin flexible cane and found a new spot to torment. This time he attacked the inside of her thighs, placing five marks on each, climbing from her knees to just below her cunt lips. After receiving the enthusiastic thank you’s that he demanded, he asked Zero

“ Where should I place the next 10 lashes? I have covered your back, your ass, your belly, your tits and your inner thighs. Now Zero, you may beg for the next lashes.”

Zero knew where master wanted the last 10 lashes to go. She was not stupid. She hoped that the proper enthusiasm in her request might gain her some lessening of the strength of her blows.

“Master, please be so kind and generous as to whip my cunt. I need you to punish my cunt because I came without your permission, against your orders.”

“Very well, as you wish. You will count each lash.”

Master slashed up from the floor and landed the blow across Zero’s cunt lips. Zero screamed.  Her entire body shook. Her tits were pulled as she could not help her shaking. Her entire body was ablaze with pain. Finally, Zero was able to pull herself together to sob out “One, thank you my Lord.” She did not know how she would survive nine more. But she did. Master allowed her a full minute between each blow to let the pain permeate her entire body. Finally, her ordeal was over.

“Ten, thank you My Lord for correcting me and punishing me. If it pleases you, could you kindly whip me again.”

Master thought about it. He was not happy with Zero’s plea for mercy and was tempted to begin whipping Zero on the soles of her feet, but he decided against it. Zero was so wracked with pain that any further pain would not be effective. He therefore released her from her chains and released her tits from their torture.

“Since you thanked me so nicely, it is time we grant you a privilege. We grant you the privilege of sight.”

With that Master removed Zero’s blindfold and she was able to see. She was in a large room, with a marble floor, with many chains and pillars to keep her well tied. She saw various whips and paddles scattered around the room. She looked to see her Master and she was puzzled. He looked very ordinary. He was simply dressed in black slacks and a black shirt. He was of average height, around six feet, he had a full head of hair, although it was starting to get gray. He was of average weight, neither slim, nor fat. How could such an ordinary looking man be the Master who she feared, who tortured her and abused her. The she saw the way he carried himself, the confidence he exuded, the gleam in his eye as he looked at her and she realized what made him truly a Master.

“Must I blindfold you again?  Have you forgotten all your lessons?”

Zero, in terror quickly thanked he master for granting her the most precious gift of sight, for allowing her to look upon, his face. To see him so as to be better able to serve him.

Master realized that Zero had had a long day and, whatever he might tell her, she had real physical limits. He decided to let her eat, drink and sleep, to give her strength for the big party tomorrow. He therefore had Shiteater bring out a plate of bacon and eggs, a bowl of oatmeal and a plate of pancakes with syrup. Zero still had to eat while on her knees, with just her mouth, no hands, let alone silverware. She ate like a dog eating dog food, but she had reached such a stage of weakness and degradation that she was truly grateful for being allowed to eat real tasty food and when she finished her thank you’s were sincere and gracious. She was honestly happy to be so well fed. It was the first real food that she was able to eat in a long time. After she drank the delicious ice cold water and thanked Master for his kindness, master brought her to her cage and locked her in but did not raise the cage.

“Sleep well Zero. You will need your strength for your next training session.” With those ominous words master left. He did not turn off or lower the lights. Zero had no need to know whether it was day or night and he would give her no clues. Her time was divided in two. When she was wanted by her masters and when she was not. This was a time when she was not wanted by her masters. She would be allowed to rest until she would be prepared for the big party, but after the party, she would be introduced to Master’s three assistants, and they would have the right to use Zero at any time. For now however, Zero was exhausted and despite her pain, fell into a deep sleep.

Chapter Six

The Party

Zero woke up and looked around. She had no idea of how long she had slept as there were no windows in her dungeon and the lights were kept at a constant level. She saw that the dungeon was about 400 square feet, fairly large but not huge.  She could not believe the torture and degradation she had undergone. She had no idea of how long she had been in this dungeon.  Was there any hope for her?

Although Master  (she hated having to use that word, especially in her own mind, but she had no other way of thinking about him. He had no name, no identifying trait) implied that she was owned by a large group of men, she had seen no sign of anyone but Master and his slave Shiteater. Perhaps there was no one else. Perhaps he was a lone lunatic. Her best chance might be to cooperate with him as best as she could and hope that he grows careless and makes a mistake. Then she would have her chance to escape. Yes, that was her best strategy. She had seen the result of disobedience. She could still feel the whip on her back and her entire body still ached from her last session. She would try to be as obedient and compliant as she could.

Master came striding in, with his slave Shiteater on all fours beside him. “Good  morning Zero. I see you slept well. I hope you are ready for a big day.”

“ Thank you My Lord for allowing your slave to sleep. Thank you for training me. I hope to be able to please you in any way you require.”

Zero almost sang out her thank you’s, she was so anxious to please her Master. Master had been in this business a long time and knew what Zero was thinking. But there was no reason to ruin her hopes now. She would see the truth of her situation soon enough and that would help strip away the last of her hopes.

“ Zero, crawl here on your knees.”

Zero crawled to where Master indicated, without being pulled by a leash. “Head down, eyes open. Now piss.” Zero pissed as she was ordered, being forced to see the piss as it left her cunt. Master and Shiteater looked on and Zero could not imagine a more humiliating act.

“Shiteater, prepare an enema for Zero. It is most important that her ass be clean. Two quarts of warm soapy water will do for a start.”

“Zero, assume the kneel position, knees wide apart, ass up and lips on the floor.”

Zero did as she was ordered and felt the hose being forced into her ass. The soapy water bubbled through her bowels. The water was not uncomfortable, but it kept coming, more and more. She felt so full. Her stomach was extending. Then the water stopped and Zero felt a surge of relief. She could manage that. Then Master said “that’s the first bag switch to the second,” and Zero knew that she was in for an agonizing time. She was determined to cooperate as best as she could in her effort to gain Master’s trust so she thanked her master for cleaning her filthy ass. For taking the time and effort to train her.

The second bag meant agony. Her bowels were stretched, her stomach extended. The water filled and stretched her beyond her ability but she forced herself to keep saying nothing but thank you, Master, thank you. Finally, the bag was empty and all she wanted was to shit, to expel this mass of water from her ass.

“Put in a butt plug and wait ten minutes. We must make sure the ass is clean.” Shiteater put in the butt plug and Zero underwent further agony. She shivered and trembled, trying to hold her ass tight. Finally, Shiteater brought out the bucket and took out the butt plug.

“Well, Zero, do you have a favor to ask?”

“My Lord, if it pleases you could you grant this worthless slave, this Zero, the privilege of being allowed to shit?”

“Very well, Zero, you have asked nicely, sit on the bucket and shit.”

“Thank you master, Thank you,” Zero kept saying as she released her shit and all the warm soapy water into the bucket. Finally she was finished and the spasms of her agony eased . Zero was shocked when master told Shiteater,

“Now again, with ice cold water.”

Again, Zero assumed the humiliating Kneel position, with her ass in the air and her lips on the ground. This time the cold water alone was painful and again she had to take two full bags, two quarts. Again she was in agony as she kept thanking he master for his great kindness. Again the butt plug went into her ass as even after her ass was full she had to retain for 10 minutes. Again she was forced to beg for the privilege of being allowed to shit. A clean bucket was brought and she filled it with water from her ass.

Master smelled the bucket after Zero had finished and immediately said,

“I still smell shit. Her ass must be clean. One more time.”

And so for a third time Zero endured the painful enema, again with iced cold water. Master examined the third bucket and pronounced himself satisfied.

“ Very well, her ass is clean. Let us prepare her for the party.”

So they prepared  Zero. They put clamps on her nipples and attached a leash to the clamps. They put buckles around her wrists and ankles. Finally, she was ordered to kneel and was pulled by her leash out the door to a long hallway. She was pulled by her tits till they reached a large double door where she heard and saw the party.

“Hey, it’s the guest of honor, at long last. We were beginning to think you’d never get here.”

“Sorry, I was preparing  Zero for the party.”

“Zero, meet my boss, and friend, Master Jake. He is in charge of this operation and has the final say of when you are ready to be sold. And these other three men are my assistants. You will address them as Master, and obey them as you obey me. They have the right to use you in any fashion that they choose and you must be careful to please them, because they can punish you more harshly than I would.” (That was not exactly true, though Zero had no need to know that. His assistants operated under his strict supervision and did not have the authority to exceed certain limits, but these limits would still mean very much pain for Zero)

Zero looked up and saw one gray haired man, wearing a suit and tie, and the three assistants, all dressed in black, like her Master. She looked around the room and was shocked to see five slaves all bound in terribly painful positions.

The first slave was straight ahead of her. She was on her tip toes, with her arms chained to a ring suspended from the ceiling. Her cunt was stretched as a large dildo was extending from her cunt to the stool that was perched between her well spread thighs. Her ankles were pulled apart and attached to rings on the floor. What was most frightening was the four sharp needles that were extending from the stool, right alongside the dildo. Zero realized that if the slave should lower herself from her toes, the needles would penetrate her cunt. How long could the slave stay on her toes? And why was the slave smiling?

Another slave was bound in an even more painful position.  A thin chain was attached around her waist and a wire was stretched tightly through her ass and cunt. Her breasts were tied tightly with the wire as they swelled and turned purple. Then alligator clips were placed on her nipples. After all this, the slave was forced to bend over and her wrists were cuffed to her ankles. This forced the wire to cut into her ass and cunt. And even so the slave was smiling!

And a third slave was hanging in the air, her wrists and ankles both attached to a long bar that was suspended from the ceiling. She was held in a completely split position. Her nipples were tightly clamped and chains were attached to the wires so her tits were stretched up toward the ceiling. Clamps were also attached to her cunt lips and they were pulled out, away from her cunt and then out to the sides. Her cunt could not be any more open than it was. This would have been an agonizing position by itself, as both her tits and cunt lips were stretched to their maximum and any movement would be agony, but to make sure there would be movement, a vibrator was inserted in the slaves ass, and the slave was forced to move because of the vibrations. Each movement brought agony to the slaves cunt and tits and yet the slave still smiled through her tears.

On the left two slaves were chained, facing each other on a “horse”. The horse was topped by a piece of wood that reached a sharp triangular point and the slaves were placed so their cunts were right on the point. Their feet were chained so they could just support their weight on tiptoe, but should their feet not hold the load, all their weight would be born by their cunts as the triangular piece of wood would cut into their cunts. In addition, their tits were tightly chained to each other, so any movement of the upper body would pull on the other tits causing great pain.   In addition, to prevent the slaves from leaning forward and taking pressure off of their tits, there was a wand placed right in front of each cunt, coming through the wooden horse and the sharp triangle.

Master saw Zero staring at the two slaves on the horse and explained “ the wand is electronic and will provide a sharp shock if it is touched.”

How fiendish, Zero thought. They cannot move closer because of the electronic wands, they cannot move further away because of the tits chained together and if their toes come off the floor, or stop supporting their weight, the triangle will penetrate their cunts. And yet they are smiling!

Master saw Zero staring at the slaves and knew what she was thinking. He addressed one of the slaves.

“Toilet, Zero, our newest slit (Slave in training) wants to know why you are smiling.”

Toilet replied, “We smile because we are being allowed to give pleasure to our masters with our pain. Our sole function is to please our Masters and whenever we can please them we are happy. You too, will be trained to understand this by our wonderful masters.”

Zero did not know what to think. She had hopes that she could escape from a lone lunatic, but now she saw the truth, that she was captured by a cruel and merciless group and that she had no chance of escape. She also saw the result of the training. She was lost in thought when she felt the lash on her ass. “ Well, Zero, It is time to prepare you for your role at this party.”

Zero was bent over a small table. Her knees were chained to the corner of the table and her ankles were chained to each leg. Her ass and cunt were available over the edge of the table. Her tits fell over the other side of the table and they were clamped, with a small weight suspended from each tit. Her arms were attached to the legs of the table. A chain was drawn around the table and tightened around Zero’s waist and Zero’s head was pulled back as her hair was fastened to the chain around her waist.

“You will suck each slaves cunt until they come, Then you will worship each masters cock until he is satisfied. You will thank everyone for the privilege of serving them. Is that understood?”

“ Yes, My Lord, thank you for allowing Zero to serve you and attempt to bring you pleasure.”

“Just two more things before we can begin. Shiteater will be at your cunt, licking and sucking. This is for our amusement and pleasure, not yours. You may not come. You remember the punishment you received for coming without permission. If you come today we will consider it an act of deliberate rebellion and your punishment will be 10 times as great. Finally, you are perhaps wondering why we spent so much time cleaning out your ass. I think your ass will make a marvelous champagne decanter.”

Zero heard a pop, and although she could  not move her head it sounded like a the pop of a champagne bottle . Then she felt the ice cold bottle penetrate her ass and the cold bubbly run through her bowels. She was in pain as the bubbles added to her distress. After the first bottle came the second as her ass was agonizingly filled. Zero used all her strength to hold her ass closed and not push the champagne out. When the second bottle was emptied, Zero was shown a butt plug with an opening on one side and a straw on the other. The butt plug was placed in her ass and Shiteater started to work on Zero’s cunt. A slave was brought to Zero and her cunt was placed next to Zero’s mouth. Zero began to work.

She could not begin to think of the humiliating position she was in. Shiteater was working on her cunt and she must bring five slaves to orgasm and then satisfy five masters with her mouth, all while being chained in an awkward and painful position. She would  not be able to hold out against Shiteaters skillful tongue. She would not survive her punishment. Her mind was spinning, trying to think of a way she could stop herself from coming. Then she remembered what the slave Toilet had said.

“Our sole function is to please our Masters and whenever we can please them we are happy.”

What she must do is to concentrate exclusively on pleasing her Master. She kept this thought running constantly in her mind. I must please my Master, I must please my Master, I must please my Master. As she concentrated on that thought she found her body less responsive to Shiteater’s cuntlicking. Although she felt stimulated she was no longer flying to the point of no return. She was able to channel her sexual excitement into her own cuntlicking and the first slave, who had permission to come, rapidly reached her climax.

Immediately, the second slave was brought before Zero’s tongue and, with a look of religious zeal, Zero continued to lick and suck. The slaves, allowed by their master’s the rare privilege of being permitted  to come, reached their own climax very quickly and Zero was quickly up to slave number 5. While Zero was hard at work, the masters were sipping champagne out of the straw coming out of her ass. Although somewhere in the back of her head Zero was aware of the humiliation of having her ass used in that way, she buried that feeling and concentrated on pleasing her Master. Although the bubbly being sucked out of her ass was annoying, at least it eased the pain of her overfilled bowels.

While Zero was working on the fifth slave, one of the assistants had an idea. He walked over and started to fuck the slave in her ass while Zero was working on her cunt. “Toilet, you are not allowed to come until I do.”  Zero worked as hard as she could as the master pounded his cock in and out of Toilet’s tight ass. Toilet, anxious to come herself, and eager to help Zero, used her skills with her ass, clenching and unclenching her ass, trying to milk the precious cum from her master’s cock. Finally, his cock exploded as his cock spasmed, shooting his cum deep inside Toilet’s ass. Toilet came immediately as her cunt spasms added to the master’s pleasure. Finally, she had brought all the slaves to climax, and as Toilet pulled away from her mouth Zero gratefully thanked the Master’s for the opportunity to give them pleasure and prayed that they would continued to find pleasure in using her body and mouth. There was a look of ecstasy on her face as she thanked her masters.

Jake, the top boss volunteered to be first. He walked over to Zero, unzipped his pants, took out his cock and placed it in Zero’s mouth. Zero was a very inexperienced cocksucker. She had only worked on one cock, her Master’s. Jake’s cock was not as big. She tried to use what little skill she had and to make up in enthusiasm what she lacked in skill. In any event, because of the way her head was pulled backward, she was limited in her ability to move her head. Zero used her tongue as best as she could, as Jake, after a slow start, began to pound his cock in and out of her mouth. Finally, he came and Zero struggled mightily to swallow every drop.

“Not bad for a new slit. She has potential to make a fine cocksucker.”

Zero flushed with pride at the compliment. She realized how her training had changed her.

Now came the assistants. Zero struggled to center her thoughts on pleasing her master, because Shiteater was still hard at work on her cunt and she could not, must not cum until she had satisfied all the masters. Her concentration lapsed a little as she tired from her lengthy ordeal and she felt her passions riding to a higher level before she could regain her concentration. She used her lips and her tongue as eagerly and passionately as she could on the first two assistants and eagerly swallowed their copious cum. The third assistant was the one who had fucked Toilet in the ass while Zero was sucking her off. While he had no trouble getting hard, Zero had to work long and hard to bring him to a climax as his cock had been recently drained. Finally Zero was able to swallow whatever cum he was able to produce.

The Masters had continued sipping on the champagne and there was very little left in her ass as her Master stepped forward to use her mouth.

“Zero, you have made me proud. Remember you are to cum on my command, not before and not later.”

Master began pumping his cock in and out of Zero’s mouth, harder and harder. Zero used her tongue and lips, trying to please her Master. Shiteater was working hard using her tongue, sucking, nibbling licking, breathing as Zero, with the end in of her ordeal in sight, became more and more stimulated. Master was about to cum when he gave the order to Zero

“CUM, NOW!!”

Zero gasped as she was free to climax like she never had before. Master felt the added passion in her lips and tongue and shot his sperm into Zero’s mouth. Zero swallowed as all her muscles flexed and spasmed in a climax that was stronger and longer than anything she had experienced or even dreamed of.

Suddenly she felt something cold and wet on her ass and the small of her back. All the Masters were laughing. Her Master, who was still shooting in her eager mouth explained it to her.

” Your climax was so strong that you pumped the champagne out of your ass. The champagne shot out of your ass like a fountain.”

Zero finished her climax and gratefully thanked everyone for the opportunity to please them, for allowing her the great privilege of coming for their pleasure. Zero was weak from her ordeal and Master was very pleased with her. He saw that she had now accepted her role as a slave. She now understood that she must always think about pleasing her masters. She now needed training to increase her skills, but in her mental approach she was now a slave.

Master assigned one of his assistants to grant Zero the privilege of a shower and to give her food and drink before putting her back in her cage. It was time to get Zero used to his assistants as they would now be taking an active role in her training.

Chapter Seven

Toilet’s Ordeal

The party continued. The slaves brought out delicious gourmet food and the Masters sat on big comfortable chairs and laughed and joked as they ate. Every once in a while, one would call on a slave for use. The slave would endure whatever the master had in mind. Since this was a party, most of the use was simple and straightforward, but painful. For example, a spanking does not seem like much, but when the spanking is 100 blows, each delivered with full force, the results are a very red ass that will be painful for a long time.

Jake pulled Master away from the others and said “I’m glad the new slave is working out so well. You have her less than a week and she has fully accepted her condition. You’re the best we have, but this is the last slave you’re going to be training for us.”

Master was expecting this but was stunned anyway.

“Jake, we’ve known each other for a long time. Can’t you put in a good word for me? I’m not ready to retire.”

“ I did put in a good word for you and we all agree. You definitely are not ready to retire.”

“I don’t understand, If You are not retiring me, why is this the last slave that I’ll be training?”

“Dave, sometimes I wonder about you. You’re  not retiring, I am”, said Jake. “You are going to be taking over my job. I’m older than you. I am ready to spend more time with my children and grandchildren. Oh, I’ll drop by once in a while to keep my hand in and sample the merchandise but you are going to have my job.”

Jake was relieved but still puzzled. “I’ve never asked but what exactly is your job?”

“ I wear many hats. First of all, I am the director of all training. I haven’t had to work with you much, because you are a natural, but you will be in charge of training all the trainers at all the facilities. You will have overall control over the physical plant of all the facilities, security will be under you. And you will be a talent spotter.”

Dave looked worried. “Jake, I really don’t want to be involved in the strong arm end of the operation.”

“Jake, you are not thinking. Do you think the group would risk you on anything illegal? As a matter of fact if you ever get anything worse than a speeding ticket, you’ll be in serious trouble with the group. I said talent, you dummy, not merchandise. We have some members of our group with connections with Sicily and Russia. They handle merchandise. You will be looking for talent.”

Dave still looked puzzled. “ Dave, we are an expanding organization. We need to add more trainers. We can’t exactly advertise in the NY Times. Do you think I met you by accident twenty five years ago? That was my job. The group is planning a major expansion. First of all, they plan to open a new facility for training female slaves. Second they plan on opening a new facility to train male slaves. Some of our members have daughters and they are looking to train boy toys for their daughters. You are going to have a lot on your plate. You are the liaison between the group and the facilities. You will make sure that slaves are trained within a reasonable period of time. It’s a very responsible job and you will be compensated as befitting the CEO of a small company, One Million Dollars a year. I said I put in a good word for you. Don’t disappoint me.”

Dave was thrilled. Not only was he not being forced into retirement, he was being promoted to a very responsible position at four times his current salary.

“Let’s celebrate with a sandwich, how about Toilet?”

“Toilet will be fine,” said Jake, “I’ll take the cunt from the bottom, you take the ass from the top.”

“Sounds great, but let’s warm her up properly first.”

With that they called over Toilet and prepared her for the honor of being the middle of a sandwich. First both Dave and Jake gave her 50 spanks each across her ass. Then, when her ass was nice and red, they used a strap. Each gave her 25 strokes across the ass. Toilet was very well trained, and was used to receiving punishment but she was in tears from the punishment. Jake stuck his fingers up her cunt and felt how wet she was.

“Okay, she’s warmed up. Let’s have some fun.”

Jake lay down on the bed and Toilet placed her cunt over Jake’s cock. Jake was normal sized and she was able to keep him deep in her hot cunt. Then Dave placed his cock at the edge of Toilet’s ass. His cock was large, over 8 inches, and thick. He pushed his big cock through her anus and held it there for a minute, allowing Toilet to prepare for the coming invasion, then waiting a little more, keeping Toilet in suspense, making her wonder when the cock would fill her up. Then, in an instant, Dave plunged in to the limit. He filled her totally. He felt Jake’s cock filling her cunt as he filled her ass. He pumped harder and harder into her tight ass. Jake meanwhile was content to lie quietly and let Toilet do the work. She used her well trained cunt muscles to pump his cock as she tried to work him to a climax.  She flexed her cunt muscles and her ass muscles to please Dave and Jake. To encourage her, Jake grabbed her tits and squeezed her nipples hard. Dave, riding her ass as hard as he could, kept slapping her already sore ass.

Toilet kept repeating “Thank you Masters, I hope you are enjoying my ass and cunt. I am honored that you use my body for you pleasure. My body is only here to please you and I pray that my pain brings you pleasure. Thank you, Thank you, Thank you.” Dave asked Jake if he was ready, Jake said he was enjoying himself and would like to wait a few minutes more. Dave slowed down his pumping, but neither Dave nor Jake slowed their slapping of Toilet’s ass or squeezing her tits. Toilet was becoming more and more aroused as her holes were being filled. She knew that she had no permission to come and kept concentrating on giving pleasure to her masters. Finally Jake said that he was ready and Dave thrust as hard and quickly as he could and in five quick thrusts he came deep in her ass. Jake  came deep in her cunt.  Toilet was clenching both holes as hard as she could, making sure to maximize her masters pleasure.

Finally, Dave’s cock popped out of her ass and he immediately climbed around and stuck his cock in her mouth.

“Suck it clean, swallow my juices you slut. Swallow the juices from my cock and your filthy ass.”

Toilet kept sucking and swallowing. Finally she was through with Dave and got on her knees to clean Jake’s cock. She kept thanking her Masters for honoring her with their come, honoring her body by using her for their pleasure.

Jake was getting older, and since this was his second cum of the day, it was not as strong as his first. He blamed Toilet for this and said that since he was not satisfied with her performance, she would be punished. Toilet was more upset by not satisfying Jake than by the prospect of punishment.

“Oh yes, punish me, punish me harshly, I have failed you, I deserve harsh punishment.”

Jake responded “Yes you do, and I shall give it to you. Spread your legs and grab your ankles. I will not restrain you, but if you do not hold position, I will throw you out of the program.”

That was a threat that terrified Toilet.  She was going to maintain her position as long as she lived until given orders otherwise. Jake grabbed a cruel whip, made of heavy leather, five tails, each knotted . He took this whip and brought it up cruelly between Toilet’s legs onto her cunt.

“Count each one you worthless Toilet.”

“One, thank you master, may I please have another, two, thank you master, may I please have another. ………Ten, thank you Master, may I please have another.” Toilet hoped that might be the end but then came “Eleven, thank you Master, may I please have another. Twenty, thank you Master, may I please have another”. Toilet’s cunt lips were cut and bleeding.” Twentyone, thank you Master may I please have another. Finally Jake reached twentyfive and said that is enough.

“What I want you to do now is to play with yourself. When you feel that you must come, you will beg permission. Perhaps I will be inclined to be merciful.”

Toilet reached her fingers down between her legs and delicately touched her torn cunt lips. She had been through severe training and Master had thought that she was almost ready for auction, but Jake had caused her great pain and had damaged the merchandise. As Master looked at Toilet, he realized that it would take almost a month before she would heal. While Toilet wanted to gently play with her cunt, Jake kept insisting that she go all out.

“Finger fuck yourself. Hard and fast. All the way”

Toilet, despite her great pain, followed instructions and despite the pain, and the blood, rapidly found herself reaching her climax. Her training had been such that even great pain was still a sexual stimulant. She was shaking and trembling with the urge to climax and begged Master Jake for permission.

“I beg you Master, please take pleasure in watching this unworthy slave come, and forgive Toilet for not satisfying you with her filthy cunt.”

“Very well, you may come.”

That was all Toilet needed to hear as she exploded in a frenzy. All the pain of her punishments were transformed into the greatest of pleasures as her body exploded with pleasure. She shook and twisted in pleasure as she called out loudly. “Thank you, Master, Thank you Master, Thank you, Master for permitting this Toilet such great pleasure.”

Dave let Toilet recuperate for a few minutes, then he went to a closet and pulled out a strange looking device. It was a small dildo, five inches and narrow, that was attached by wires to a rectangular box that had 10 small multicolored lights coming out of one side. He had Toilet assume the kneel position and inserted the small dildo in her ass. Immediately the first 8 bulbs on the box lit up.

“Now squeeze your ass muscles on the dildo.”

As Toilet squeezed with her ass the 9^th bulb lit up and the 10^th bulb flickered on and off. The Dave took the dildo out of her ass and placed it in her cunt. Only 4 bulbs lit up and when she was told to squeeze her cunt muscles, 6 bulbs were the most she could light.

“This device measures the pressure you can bring to squeeze a cock. Your ass is tight and can squeeze at 95%, more than adequate. Your cunt has been stretched and you have not kept exercising your cunt muscles to keep them tight. That is why you did not satisfy Master Jake. You will exercise with this pressure meter whenever you are not being used. You will be punished until you can get 9 bulbs lit with your cunt muscles. You will start working immediately. You will keep squeezing with your cunt until a Master directs you otherwise.”

Toilet was left on her knees, with her knees spread wide, her ass in the air, her lips on the ground. She had the small dildo in her cunt, and though she was wracked with pain from her many punishments, and though her cunt lips were bleeding from the whipping, her mind was fixated on squeezing the dildo with her cunt muscles so as to light up all 10 lights. She wanted to tighten her cunt muscles so that she would give her masters more pleasure when they honored her by fucking her in her cunt.

Dave checked the charts to see what had been done to Zero. Although to the slave it would seem that life was random, that food, drink and torture came at random, the opposite was true. Everything that was done to the slave, especially at the early stages of training was done for a reason. Yes, the slave may be given the exact same meal three or four sessions in a row and then not given any food or drink at all for two or three sessions, but this was done deliberately, to keep the slave off balance, to rob her of any psychological anchor. She was being taught that her only reality was serving her masters with complete religious devotion, as if her masters were gods.

Although gods could be cruel, they were powerful. They must be obeyed. More than mere obedience was required. What was demanded was the complete subjugation of the slaves will to the will of the gods. After all, the gods kept the slave alive. They gave her food and drink. They allowed her to piss and shit. They kept her clean. And occasionally they allowed her to experience the most marvelous pleasure, to cum. It was only by serving them with total devotion that the slave could hope for such a great reward.

So Dave studied the chart to see what Zero had been fed and what she was given to drink as she was put in her cage. He noted that Zero had been given a filling meal of soup, steak and fries as a reward for her performance at the party. He planned to begin training Zero in using her ass to pleasure a cock and he wanted to make sure that she was well rested. He therefore noted on the chart that she should not be used by his assistants until further notice. He also noted that she should be given food and drink and allowed to piss in about 10 hours. Outside of that, he would leave her to her own thoughts until he was ready to use her. The time alone should let her recuperate and may serve to again remind her that she was under the complete control of the Masters.

He made the appropriate notations on her chart, so his assistants would not interfere with his plans. Meanwhile he made a note to his assistants that all the slaves should be tested with the pressure meter. He realized that he and his assistants all had larger than average cocks, although none were truly monsters. They had placed an emphasis on training the slaves to handle big cocks. They had stretched their cunts and asses with larger than life dildos. Now he realized that some of the owners might be smaller than average. Jake was the most experienced of the Masters, as he was the oldest and had been involved with every slave, in every facility. The purchasing owner would not be as experienced and jaded as Jake. But there was no reason not to train the slaves to please the small cock as well as the big.

Was there anything else that he was missing? What made Dave a great trainer is he was never satisfied. Of course he enjoyed his work. He loved whipping and torturing his slaves, breaking their spirits quickly and thoroughly. He loved fucking the new meat, training them to give satisfaction, humbling them, making them beg to please him. But he never forgot that he was hired to do a job, to train the slaves, and he was not there merely to enjoy himself. When he wanted merely to please himself, he had Shiteater, his own personal slave. When he was training slaves for the group he had a job to do and he never let himself forget it. He was constantly thinking of how to improve the training program, and now he would be in charge of training at all the groups facilities.

Dave looked over at Toilet who was concentrating on squeezing her cunt muscles. She had been at work for almost an hour, and cunt muscles, like all other muscles, needed down time to gain strength. Toilet was a bloody mess and he had a difficult decision to make. Toilet was the slave who had been there longest and the Masters had talked about putting her up for auction. Although there were advantages to letting her continue her exercise, Dave decided that he would order her to rest until further orders. Slaves with seniority were given latitude in choosing exercises when they were not being used, but Dave felt Toilet must be ordered to bed and put a notation on her chart that she was not to be used for at least 12 hours. Toilet would be hungry and thirsty by then, and might even have a full bladder, but those were punishments that she could easily tolerate, even in her battered condition. Twelve hours would make her worry about possibly being abandoned, a fear that will further her desire to please.

Having updated his charts, Dave took Shiteater and went to his room. Zero would wait till tomorrow.

Chapter 8

The Virgin Ass

Dave was away for three days. He went with Jake to look at the other training sites and to begin the process of obtaining a full time Mistress to begin training male slaves, to be used as toys by the daughters of the group members. Jake told Dave that with the growing power of women in the economy, the group was considering adding female members when the project was underway. Since membership in the group was quite expensive, this project could prove to be very profitable.

Dave suggested that in addition to a Mistress to train the male slaves, a second Mistress be hired to be involved in training the female slaves as well. What better way of demonstrating the slaves complete worthlessness than to have to obey and serve not only a male Master, but a Mistress as well. Jake said that sounded like a great idea, and they would bring it up when they met with the group’s executive committee.

Before Dave went back to work, he spent a day with Shiteater at his Trump Tower apartment in NYC. At night they went to New York’s finest B&D club, where he demonstrated Shiteater’s training in obedience and in ability to take pain. After giving her a severe barehanded spanking that turned her ass-cheeks bright red, he called for a volunteer from the audience to let Shiteater demonstrate her cock sucking skills. He picked the volunteer with the biggest cock and told Shiteater that she would have her ass paddled until she swallowed all the cum. With that Shiteater got on her knees and started sucking cock for dear life as Dave paddled her already red ass with his favorite paddle, a ping pong paddle, made of oak, with rough sandpaper glued to each side. Dave paddled Shiteater’s ass till it was a bloody mess, the sandpaper on one side was torn and he switched to the second side. Finally the volunteer grabbed Shiteater’s head and pulled it tightly to him, so that her lips were buried in his pubic hair. His cock was so deep in Shiteater’s throat that she had to use the circus technique of a sword swallower to get it down her throat. The volunteer came in great spurts, as Shiteater, despite her extensive training, struggled to swallow every drop before any could escape. Finally, having accomplished her task to the great satisfaction of the volunteer, who had feared for the safety of his cock, Dave stopped his paddling. Shiteater turned to the volunteer and said “I pray that my lips, my tongue and my throat have been pleasing to you.” Then she turned to Dave and said, “Master I pray that my pain has brought you pleasure and that my efforts have not embarrassed you. I beg you, if you would be so kind, to punish me for sucking the cock of another man.”

Dave responded, “It is always my pleasure to punish you. Spread your legs and grab your ankles.”

When Shiteater obeyed Dave took a thin, whippy cane and gave her 10 hard strokes on her pussy lips. He then took a wire and tied it tightly around her waist and pulled it as tight as he could through her cunt while she was standing straight. He then ordered her to touch her toes 100 times, each time causing further agony as the wire cut into her delicate, already bloody flesh.

As Shiteater was painfully demonstrating her obedience, Dave mingled with the crowd. He passed the word that he might have lucrative employment for a highly qualified Mistress. He left a phone number where he would get messages, and accepted congratulations for his well trained slave. When Shiteater completed her exercise she was ordered to remain in the kneel position for the rest of the evening. Shiteater remained, knees spread, bloody ass held high, lips on the floor, for another hour, till Dave decided that it was time to go home. At that time, he cut the wire around her waist and cunt, but just as Shiteater was beginning to feel some relief, he washed her bloody ass with saltwater, causing further excruciating pain. Before putting on her coat, he stuck a vibrator up her cunt, reminding her that she was not permitted to cum. He had been too easy on her lately, Dave told himself. It was fun to remind her, once in a while, that her only satisfaction was to come from pleasing him.

When Dave got back, he checked on Zero.  She had been fed a steady diet of cock, and had progressed to show a certain degree of skill, in addition to raw enthusiasm. She had been permitted to piss at irregular intervals, but had not been permitted to shit and she was now, in fact, in pain as her bowels were quite full. It was time to start to train her ass.

Zero was released and commanded to kneel. She was now given a large enema, three quarts, half again as large as the two quarts she was given before the party. The water was hot, not boiling, but hot enough that it burnt Zero’s delicate anus. Zero was in agony from the first drop of water, but after each quart, she thanked her Master, through her tears, and begged for another quart. Finally, after the third quart, Master felt that she truly could not contain any more water and inserted a butt plug. Zero was commanded to rise and Master saw that her stomach was truly stretched from the water that had filled her bowels.

“I want to make sure that the enema does a thorough job of cleaning your filthy ass. I want you to do fifty jumping jacks and then touch your toes fifty times. Begin counting.”

At this time, all Zero wanted to do was to shit. All she could think about was the pain in her ass from the hot water that had filled her so thoroughly. Never the less, the Masters command must be obeyed and Zero started to slowly do the jumping jacks that Master had commanded. “One, two, three..” she began slowly, when Master interrupted her with a slash of his whip on her bottom.

“No, that is much too slow. Jumping Jacks must be done quickly, and touching toes as well. I will not permit you to shit till I have seen you do these exercises to my satisfaction. Now begin again, and remember, quickly and vigorously.”

Again Zero began the normally simple task of basic jumping jacks. But what is normally simple is almost impossible when your ass is filled with three quarts of hot water. As Zero started to jump and count she felt that she might explode. Even though the butt plug was designed to stay in the ass unless removed by hand, she felt in danger of having it explode out of her ass due to the pressure of three quarts of water moving quickly and rapidly, circulating through her ass and causing her tremendous cramping and pressure. As soon as she reached fifty, she immediately started her toe touching.

When she finished her body was completely drained. She was drenched in sweat, she was shivering, her ass was clamping. She collapsed on her knees and kissed Master’s feet, thanking him for giving her such an extraordinary enema, for caring so about her ass, for permitting her to exercise so strenuously, for training her so well. Finally Master asked her one question. “Who owns your ass?” Zero replied quickly, “My ass belongs to you. It is yours to use at your pleasure.”

Master had one more card to play before he would finally permit Zero to release her shit. “You may remove the butt plug, but you are not permitted to shit until I command you. Since you have just agreed that your ass belongs to me, disobedience will be punished most harshly.”

Zero removed the butt plug and stayed on her knees. Her entire mind, her entire world, consisted of her efforts to keep her ass clenched against the pressure of the enema. Imagine having a bad case of diarrhea and being no where near a bathroom. Then multiply that agony a hundred times and you might get some small idea of Zero’s agony. Her face reflected her pain. Tears were flowing down her cheeks. Finally Master had mercy and told her to sit on her bucket.

“What have you learnt from this, Zero?”

“I understand that you are my Master and that you control my body and my soul, I must thank you for every privilege you permit me, most of all, for the privilege of being allowed to serve you, to try to please you with my pain.”

“ Very well, Zero, you may Shit.”

With that, the shit exploded out of Zero’s ass.  Water, and shit, poured into the bucket in torrents. Zero never felt as empty as she did when she finally finished her shit. The bucket was filled with the water and the shit, and she knew that some of the shit had splashed up and stuck to her thighs. She was weak and dizzy from the enema, but Master had her stand up and quickly cleaned her with a high pressure cold water hose. As he ran the hose all over her, Master cleaned off the shit from her thighs and asshole and washed away the sweat that was all over her. Finally, when she was clean he took a rough towel and quickly and harshly dried her off.

“I am going to punish your ass. You will count as you have been trained, and you will thank me for punishing you. You will beg me to fuck you in the ass. Now get over my knees and prepare to be spanked.” Master began to spank Zero’s soft, round ass.

“One, may I please have another, two, may pleas have another…. each slap was hard, and Zero’s ass quickly turned pink. Finally she reached “20, May I please have another?”

Master responded “Now it is time for the paddle.” He had a long session prepared, so he used a plain oak paddle, without the sandpaper he generally used to tear an ass apart. He would bloody her ass in other ways.

“One, may I please have another..two, may I please have another, three, may I please have     another?” When she reached twenty, her entire ass had turned bright red.

“Thank you Master, for using my ass, to give me pain for your pleasure. I hope my pain pleases you, and I beg you to honor me by fucking me in the ass.”

Master replied “Zero, I have only barely begun to give you pain. I started with the pain of a child, then moved to the pain of a naughty girl. Next we will cane you as I would cane a disobedient school girl. Finally I shall have you whipped like the slave that you are.”

With that Master had Zero tied over a whipping horse. Her legs were wide apart, her waist was bent over the top of the horse, her arms were wide apart and she was looking backward as Master approached her with a thin whippy cane. Master was determined to use the thin cane to draw blood as he struck hard across the center of the beautiful red globes. Zero’s ass was so sensitive from her previous beatings that merely running a finger over it was enough to cause agony, the cane caused Zero to scream long and loud. Master paused briefly to look at the effects of his blow. As he drew back for his second blow Zero quickly regained control and quickly said “Thank you Master, may I please have another?”

“You must remember to count, Zero. If I strike a blow, before you have counted the previous one, we will start again from one.” Zero knew that whatever her pain, she must control herself enough to keep up with Masters cane. Besides the fear of additional blows she did not want to displease her Master. She wanted her Master to be pleased with her. What else did she have?

Master kept up his harsh blows to the accompaniment of Zeros screams and count. He

laid the cane accurately across her entire ass, from top to bottom, raising welts across the entire ass. Finally, the last four blows broke skin and Zeros ass began to bleed. Master paused to enjoy the view of Zero’s blood as Zero continued to count through her pain.

Master paused briefly after twenty with the cane. He wanted Zero to regain some of her strength so that she would be better prepared to appreciate the agony she was about to endure. Master took out his cat. Hand made of heavy kangaroo leather, each tail was knotted . The knots would slash unto her already battered and bloody ass and tear it into a bloody pulp. This was almost the final step before Zero would be granted the honor of having her ass fucked for the first time. So Master waited five minutes while Zero was able to stop her tears. Without the use of her hands, she could do nothing about her spittle or the mucous that was running down her face, but she was breathing normally when Master told her “Now you will be whipped with a cat like the slave that you are.”

With that he began to whip Zero’s ass. Each blow, coming on top of the already brutal punishment, was agony. Each blow caused Zero to scream. Each blow drew blood. Zero struggled to maintain her ritual of count, thank you, may I please have another. By now, the blood was dripping from Zero’s ass, and as her head hung down she could see the increasing drip of her blood. As the count increased, the blood  increased, till it was no longer a drip but a flow of blood coming from all over her ass.

Finally, Zero reached twenty. “What have you learned?”,  asked Master. Zero stopped to think. What had she learned from this agony?

“I learned that I am here only to give you pleasure. My pain is a means of giving you pleasure. I wish to please you and will willingly endure all pain so as to please you. I thank you for using my pain and my ass for your pleasure, and I beg you to make further use of my ass, by fucking  me in my ass. I am here to please you and I beg for you to take your pleasure by fucking my ass.”

“Very well, Zero, I will honor you by fucking you in the ass. But first, I must wash the blood off.” With that Master took a bucket of water and threw it over Zero’s bloody ass. All of a sudden, Zero’s ass shook violently as she screamed once again. The water was salty, saltier than the ocean. As the salt mixed with the blood Zero felt more and more pain.

As the pain was at its most intense, Master grabbed Zero’s ass cheeks and separated them. He brought his cockhead to her anus and quickly inserted it through her tight, virginal asshole. He then proceeded to fuck her hard, plunging deep into her tight back door.

Zero was taken beyond pain. Until recently, she had never dreamed of being fucked in her ass, never thought that anyone would do such a filthy thing. Now her Master had spent his time torturing her ass and now was using it for his pleasure. Her Master was fucking her ass!! Through all the agony of her previous beatings, through the blood and scars left by the cane and the cat, through the pain of the saltwater washing away the blood, she could feel her Masters cock ripping through her ass, reaching deep within her. She was thankful now for the deep enema Master had given her. She would hate to soil Masters cock with her filthy shit.

“Thank you, Master. Thank you for fucking my ass. Thank you for using me for your pleasure. Thank you for preparing my ass to receive your majestic cock. Thank you for cleaning my ass with the enema so that the would be none of my filthy shit to soil your beautiful and majestic cock. Thank you for fucking me hard. Thank you for using me for your pleasure.”

Master continued to fuck Zero as she was tied on the whipping horse. He found her virgin ass tight and delightful. He continued to slap her ass as he fucked her, using the involuntary contractions of her ass to further his pleasure. He continued to fuck her hard and deep. He enjoyed listening to Zero moan her thanks, and he truly enjoyed the tightness of her ass. It was still warm from the enema. Her moans, her thank you’s, the clenching of her ass as she was spanked truly made this a top notch experience for him. “My god, she is some fuck. The Master who buys her will get his moneys worth no matter what she goes for at auction” he thought as he kept plunging toward his climax.

Finally he came, long, hard and copiously. He filled her ass with his come. Finally, all spent, he pulled out. He released Zero from the horse and as he sat down he commanded Zero to use her tongue to clean his cock and balls. Zero immediately got to her knees and proceeded to bath his cock and balls with her lips, her tongue and finally her mouth. She sucked and swallowed all the come from his cock and licked through his pubic hair to make sure it was entirely clean. Finally, he was satisfied and had her stop. She breathlessly thanked him for taking her virgin asshole, for using her for his pleasure, for honoring her with his cum.

Master had one more command for Zero. “My cum is precious and must not go to waste. You will insert two fingers into your ass and scoop out all my cum. You will then lick my cum from your fingers and swallow it.”

Master watched as Zero took two fingers and pushed them up her asshole. The fingers fit easily as his cock had just stretched her tight ass, and it would be a while before the hole tightened up again. Zero felt so stretched that she didn’t think that her ass would ever recover. She scooped up Master’s cum and licked it greedily from her fingers. Again and again, she stuck her fingers up her ass and licked up Master’s precious cum. As she had her fingers in her ass, she kept thanking Master for fucking her asshole, for honoring her by taking his pleasure in her ass, by allowing her to savor the sweet nectar of his precious cum. Finally, her ass was dry. She had swallowed every drop of cum from her ass. Master was pleased with Zero. It was time for her to be allowed to rest.

Chapter 9

Black and White

Dave was notified when Zero woke up and immediately went to her cell. He allowed her to piss and listened with great pleasure as she recited her prayer of thanks for the privilege of pissing.

“I thank Master for showing me how he owns my body, for showing me how your control is in every aspect of my body. Without your permission I dare not piss or shit. I thank you my Master for in your kindness and mercy you granted me permission to piss. My body is yours, and as I attempt to worship you and give you pleasure my mind will not be distracted by my physical needs. I can devote my thoughts solely towards pleasing you.”

“I am pleased with your progress, Zero, and I am going to grant you new privileges.” With that, Master put the leash and collar around Zero’s neck and took her to a new room. “This will be your home for the rest of your training.”

Zero looked around and saw a large room with a real bed in the center. True, the bed was designed with various restraints and attachments, but it was a real bed and looked delightfully comfortable. Surrounding the bed were a variety of exercise devices, from a treadmill for walking and running to devices for exercising her abdominal muscles and increasing her flexibility.

There was a computer opposite the bed and next to her bed was a small night table. With Masters approval, she opened it and saw running shoes and athletic socks.

Master explained “You have earned the privilege of being allowed to take care of our property, your body. You will chose various exercises on the machines that we have provided, and when you exercise you will protect our property, your feet, by wearing the socks and sneakers. You will also be responsible for our properties cleanliness.” With that he pointed to a large glass cylinder in a corner of the room.  Zero looked to Master, and, with his approval, walked to the cylinder and found a button that opened the cylinder.

“This is your special shower. We want our property to be kept clean at all times.  At the same time, our property must remember that she is property and so, is forbidden to touch herself without permission. We therefore designed this special shower. Get in.”

Zero entered and noticed that there were two metal slots at the bottom of the shower and, if she kept her feet widely separated, she could insert one foot in each slot. There were two rings hanging from the top of the cylinder and Zero was able to stretch her arms so she could grasp one with each hand. The cylinder started to close and Master instructed her not to move until the door opened again.

As soon as the cylinder closed, Zero felt herself surrounded by water. Showerheads focused water from the top, on her head, from the bottom, between her legs and on her cunt and ass, and all around her body, front and back. Every few seconds, the temperature of the water changed, from boiling hot, to icy cold to the comfortable middle. She felt soap in the water that was surrounding her body, and then the water turned clear. Her hair was subject to pulsating streams of what she realized must be shampoos and conditioners and then again, to clear rinse water. The shower continued to cycle between hot and cold and between soap and rinse. Zero lost track of the number of cycles. She could not get comfortable, due to the frequent changes in temperature. She used to love to take long leisurely showers, she would rub her hands over her entire body, enjoying the feeling. Those days were far behind her. She was careful to keep her feet and hands where they belonged. Finally, the water stopped and Zero felt hot air blowing all around her, drying her body, and especially, her hair. At last she was dry and the cylinder opened.

She got out of the cylinder and fell to her knees in front of Master. “Thank you Master for providing your worthless Zero with such a wonderful device, to allow me to keep my body clean for my owners without touching myself so I am constantly reminded of the first rule. My body belongs to my masters. I am truly nothing, merely an instrument to give pleasure for my masters. This wonderful shower reminds me of this. Thank you.”

Master replied “You will have noticed the computer opposite your bed. This serves three purposes. One: your Masters may choose to give you orders via the computer, whether over the speakers, or on the screen. You will obey such orders instantaneously. When an order comes through on the screen the computer will beep. You will immediately stop what you are doing and look at the screen and obey. Second: You may use the computer to beg for permission to piss or shit, or other needs such as food or water. It is not expected that you use this privilege frivolously but it is available if it is needed. You will be left at times to your own devices and the Masters may not be around to care for you at all times. Third: You will use the computer to compose prayers to your Masters, to be recited at various times and for different privileges. Prayers of requests and prayers of thanks. You will compose these prayers when you are unable to exercise, and not ready to sleep.  Finally, you see your bucket against the wall. Above the bucket is a sink, which you will use to clean your socks and your bucket. You will keep your room and yourself clean at all times. You will find a small mirror and a razor, which you will use to keep yourself hairless below the neck. You are being given the privilege and responsibility of caring for yourself and choosing your own activities. You will remember that this is a privilege and take care to keep your master’s property fit and clean.”

Master pulled out two nipple clamps, and attached them to Zero’s tits. He then pulled out two pound weights and attached one to each clamp. Zero felt the agony of the pressure on her beautiful tits. Master then took out an Allen wrench and used it to tighten the clamps to the maximum.  Zero was in tears. “You will keep these on till given other orders. It will give you a constant reminder of your status.”

“Thank you Master for taking such care in training this slave, Thank you for allowing me to suffer such pain, to constantly remember that I am a slave.”

With that Dave left Zero to her own devices as he took Shiteater and left for San Francisco, where he had an appointment with potential Mistresses for the group.

The trip to San Francisco was uneventful. Dave had Shiteater wear a vibrator and she was forbidden to cum, so she was very much on edge when they reached their Hotel.  At the Hotel, Shiteater stripped, and wearing only shoes and a light coat, followed Master as he proceeded to the home of the Mistresses.

After knocking on the door, it was opened by a naked man. Dave first noticed that his mouth was gagged and, extending from the gag, was a coat hook. As he entered and looked further, he saw that his body was completely shaved, and the man was standing with his feet wide apart. He noticed that the man’s balls were bound in a leather pouch, which was pulled down by four lead weights hanging down and stretching the sack.

“Yes, it is quite painful, but coatrack loves it, don’t you?” The man with the coat hook coming out of his mouth nodded as the beautiful Mistress spoke from her bed. Dave looked into the room and saw two Mistresses.

“Welcome, Dave. We hear you are looking for Mistresses for a special job. We are the best in the business. I’m Mistress White and over there is Mistress Black.”

Dave looked around and saw the two Mistresses. Mistress White was incredibly beautiful. She was Blonde, about 5 foot 7,long legs, and wearing a white leather corset, that shaped and emphasized her large, beautiful breasts. 38 C Dave estimated. Perfection. He noticed that she was sitting on a slave, her ass over his nose and her cunt on his mouth. She was holding a small dog whip in one hand and a drummers stick in the other.

“I am teaching him self control. Limp Dicky, here, is to please me, but is forbidden to get an erection. I use the dog whip to encourage his tongue to work faster and go deeper, (she punctuated her speech with a slash of the whip across his shaved cock) while I use the drummers stick if his cock should ever disobey my orders and get hard. Meanwhile he breathes in the delightful aroma of my ass, and I am sure to occasionally fart to add to his enjoyment. Meanwhile, please excuse me for a minute.”

With that, Mistress White started to slash Limp Dicky’s with her dog whip as her breathing got faster and she started to bounce up and down on Limp Dicky’s face. Very soon she reached her first climax, but rather than stop, she demanded that Limp Dicky continue his oral attentions.

Dave looked over at Mistress Black. The contrast could not have been greater. Mistress Black was a very dark Negro, short and very heavy. Dave estimated about 5 foot 2, 225 pounds. She was wearing a black corset that barely contained her large tits. There was a slave fucking her.

“This is Little Dicky. He has a problem with premature ejaculation. He has to bring me to three orgasms without coming himself. After that, I may be generous and let him cum, or I might send him away with a severe case of blue balls. I notice that your slave is with you. Would you mind if I borrow her for a few minutes?” Mistress Black spoke slowly, with a pronounced Southern drawl.

“Shiteater, follow Mistress Black’s instructions, but first hang up our coats on the coatrack.” Shiteater helped Master Dave off with his coat and hung it on the hanger on  coatrack. Then she stripped off her coat and hung it directly on the hook in coatrack’s mouth. She then crawled on her knees to Mistress Black.

“What I want you to do is to lick Little Dicky’s ass and balls as he is fucking me. He is not allowed to cum, so I want you to give him a challenge. Perhaps, if he’s good, I might let him cum after he is finished with me.”

Shiteater immediately climbed behind Little Dicky and started breathing on his ass, licking his ass and balls, as he was fucking Mistress Black. She could sense his balls tighten as he got harder and harder. He was moving faster and faster as he fucked Mistress Black, who herself began breathing hard.

Master Dave looked around at the two Mistresses, each being serviced by their slaves, each reaching a climax. Then he noticed another slave crawling on his knees. His mouth was gagged and inserted in the gag was a feather duster, which he was using to dust the floor. But the most diabolical thing was the way his balls were restrained. They were pulled back between his legs and fastened by two semi-circular bands to the back of the slaves thighs. If the slave would attempt to get up, his balls would be torn off.

“You’ve noticed my featherduster. Featherduster and coatrack are our permanent slaves. We call them Thing one and Thing two.”

Mistress Black had finished her first orgasm, and although Little Dicky was still fucking her hard and Shiteater was still working on his ass and balls, Mistress Black was winding down. She was determined to stretch her orgasms so that Little Dicky would have to control himself.

“We work as a team. Mistress White is gorgeous, and the Slaves worship her. They are not allowed to even think about penetrating her, and are honored to be allowed to serve her with their tongue. Me, I’m fat, and they think I’m stupid. I let them think that, because it is more humiliating to them. To be totally controlled by a fat, black dummy. I’ll fart in their faces, piss in their mouths, make them lick my ass after I’ve taken a shit. My slaves are made to endure pain and humiliation. That is my pleasure, and their purpose is to give me pleasure.”

“So how would you feel about working with female slaves?” Dave asked. “We are starting a new division that will train male slaves, but we would like to get you started helping to complete the training on our female slaves.”

With that Dave went to the computer and logged on to a special website. It was protected with a password that changed after every use, so that even if the keyboard would remember each stroke, the duplication of the strokes would only trigger an alarm, not open the website. However Dave’s login opened the site and the computer focused in on Zero, as she was lying on her bed, legs widely separated in the on the back position, while she was playing with her cunt. Her tits still had the clamps and weights attached and were swollen.

“About 48 hours ago, I tortured her ass and took her anal virginity. Although she has been given water to drink, she has not been fed, nor has she been given permission to piss. She has been ordered to play with herself, but not given permission to come. In this phase, we train the slaves to obey, without our physical presence. She has been playing with her cunt for the past 3 hours and has been at the edge of coming for the past hour. She also has not been allowed to piss for the past 24 hours. This is where we get into the slaves head.”

Dave continued to type on the keyboard and a metallic voice was heard from Zero’s room

telling Zero that she was being given permission to beg for  one of two things. She may beg for permission to piss or for permission to cum. She would have choose for herself.

The metallic voice was the only thing that she had heard since Master had moved her into her new room. She did not like it. It was one thing to obey a Master’s orders when a Master was giving them. It was another thing to hear a metallic voice from her computer and be forced to obey. And she was forced. She was trained enough to realize that failure to obey would be punished harshly, so she did obey, but this was a new phase that made her feel more humiliated than she had at any point in her previous training.

Now she was offered a choice and she must make it quickly. She had been playing with herself and was on the edge of coming. She had been holding back her cum for the past hour and was shivering and sweating in anticipation. At the same time she had not been allowed to piss and knew that as much as she wanted to cum, she needed to piss. She might not be allowed to piss for hours, or even days, if she did not take the chance to do it now. If she pissed without permission, not only would she be punished most severely, but, more important, she would displease her Master and she only wanted to please her Master. That was the most important thing in her world, indeed, the only important thing in her world.

“Please, Master, I humbly beg permission to piss, to relieve the pressure that I feel. I know that my only purpose in life is to please my Masters, and I am unable to concentrate on pleasing my Masters because of the pressure on my bladder. I beg you to allow me the privilege of pissing so that my mind can concentrate on pleasing you without being distracted by my body.”

Dave continued to type and the metallic voice was heard from Zero’s room. “You may piss into your bucket, then you will pour the contents carefully into your water bowl. You will lap up your piss, licking up every drop, and continue to refill your water bowl until your bucket is empty.”

All eyes focused on the computer screen, as Zero hurried to obey the voice. They watched as she squatted over her bucket and pissed, long and hard. They saw the look of relief on her face as she gratefully thanked her Master. “Thank you Master for allowing me to piss for your pleasure. I am your slave, and as your slave, I have no thoughts except my desire to please you. I know that I can do nothing without your permission. Everything, even the simplest needs of my body, such as food and drink, or pissing and shitting, are only done with your permission and for your pleasure. I pray that my pissing has brought you pleasure and I thank you for allowing me this privilege.”

She immediately got her water bowl and poured her piss from the bucket carefully into the water bowl. She the lay flat on her stomach and lapped up her piss. She did not like the taste. It was harsh and smelled. She was totally humiliated. She was careful to allow none of these feelings to show on her face. She finished lapping up the piss in the bowl and tried to shape her face into a smile of pleasure and not show the disgust that she felt.

“Thank you Master for allowing me to please you. Thank you for training me to please you with everything that I do, even with the drinking of my own piss. You are training me so well to keep your pleasure at the center of my thoughts always and I am grateful to you and thank you for your constant attention.” With that she refilled the bowl and again continued lapping up her piss.

Meanwhile both Mistresses were reaching their second climax. Mistress White was slashing Limp Dicky with her Dog Whip as she bounced on his face, using his tongue to fuck her pussy, bouncing her ass against his nose. Mistress Black was breathing hard as Little Dicky was pumping as hard as he could, trying to bring his Mistress to a climax, so that he might be allowed to come himself. Mistress Black told Shiteater “ He does not deserve the privilege of coming. I want you to force him to cum against my orders, so that I can punish him as he deserves.” With that, Shiteater used the very tip of her tongue to gently lick that delicate area between the slaves ball and his ass. In five seconds Little Dicky reached the point of no return. A gentle breath in his ass and he began to cum. Mistress Black immediately pushed him away as he shot his cum all over the bed. “Lick it up, you filthy piece of shit. I did not give you permission to cum.”  Mistress Black started to slash his back as hard as she could as Little Dicky was licking up his cum from the bed. As he was pushed away and whipped, his erection failed and his cock stopped spasming. What was going to be a long and hard ejaculation was transformed into a quick weak spurt, leaving Little Dicky unfulfilled and unsatisfied. As Mistress Black continued her whipping of Little Dicky, she realized that Little Dicky’s failure had left her unsatisfied. She called on Shiteater to satisfy her with her tongue. It did not take Shiteater long to bring Mistress Black to a hard and satisfying climax.

Meanwhile, as Limp Dicky brought Mistress White to the peak of pleasure, his own cock began to show signs of life. It began to grow big and hard. Mistress White would not allow that to go unpunished. Immediately after her marvelous orgasm, she started to punish Limp Dickey. “How dare you become erect in my presence? Don’t you realize you are here for my pleasure, not for your own? Do you think that I am your whore, that you can think of me as an object of your filthy, perverted lust? Such disrespect must be punished.”  With that Mistress White grasped Limp Dicky’s balls in her hand and squeezed. Limp Dicky screamed and tears flowed from his eyes as Mistress White continued to squeeze hard.  He dared not move, and stayed completely still as his Mistress continued to squeeze. Finally, she released his balls, only to continue his torture and humiliation by punching him in the solar plexus, knocking him helplessly to his knees.          “You are a worthless piece of shit, not fit to be in my presence. Stay on your knees outside my door, and hope that I feel merciful and send out your clothing, otherwise you will have to go home naked.”  Little Dicky crawled as rapidly as he could to the door and continued to cry as he kneeled outside, not daring to open his mouth, either to apologize, or to ask for mercy. He knew that his only chance of getting his clothing was complete obedience to his Mistress.

“You are exactly what we are looking for. We have been training female slave for male Masters, and we are the best. Now our owners are asking for finely trained male slaves that can satisfy all their daughters needs, safely and discretely. I’ve had you checked out before I came of course, but there is nothing like seeing these with your own eyes.”

“Why, thank you kindly,” said Mistress White, in an exaggerated  Scarlet O’Hara accent. “Your reputation as Shiteater’s owner and trainer precedes you, as well, which is why we are willing to listen to your proposition.”

“I can’t tell you too much, because of security. The group is absolutely top secret, consisting of some of the wealthiest men in the world. You will have a generous salary, complete safety, live in luxury, and be generously compensated. In addition, you will be living in a world which respects your skills and where you will be a valued member of our community, rather than hiding who you are and living on the outskirts of society. So, are you interested?”

“Sounds good. When do we start?”

“I have a private Jet waiting for us at the airport. You can take Thing one and Thing Two, any way you want, along, of course, with any other toys that you want. The advantage of private jets is that we don’t have to go through security.”

Mistress Black had whipped Little Dickey’s ass till it was bloody. She finally stopped and told him to take his clothing, along with Limp Dickey’s, and crawl out the door. They could both get dressed outside and leave. Meanwhile Thing One and Thing Two were both freed of their restraints, so they could, under their mistresses instructions, pack up the Mistresses clothing and equipment. They were leaving San Francisco and starting a new life.

Chapter 10

Zero Gets a Mistress

Zero woke with a start. She had been put to bed in light restraint. She was spread eagled on the bed, her bindings firm but not tight or extreme. She was relatively comfortable and was sleeping soundly.  All of a sudden she felt one hand over her mouth and another hand squeezing her nose. She could not breath! She quickly opened her eyes and was shocked. She expected to see her Master or one of his assistants. Instead she saw a short, fat black lady looking down at her with a great smile on her face.

“You will thank me for permitting you to breathe. You will address me as “My Lady”, and you will quickly obey my every command. You will thank me for the privilege of allowing you to serve me and beg for instructions on how you might fulfill your purpose of giving me pleasure.” The slow drawl and big grin stuck terror in Zero’s heart. Zero was about to fall unconscious from lack of Oxygen when suddenly the hands were removed from her mouth and nose and she took in a great breath.

As soon as she took in a second breath she felt two strong fingers pinching her nipple hard. “I told you to thank me for permitting you to breath. You will obey my commands promptly, not at your convenience.”

“Thank you, My Lady for granting me the most precious gift, the gift of life itself, as you have generously granted this unworthy slit, this Zero your kind permission to breath. I am sorry to have disappointed you by not following your commands immediately. I will attempt to prove myself worthy of the privilege of serving you by obeying your every desire immediately. I recognize that my only function is to bring pleasure to you and to my Masters. I beg you, My Lady, to instruct this unworthy Zero, in how I can give you pleasure. I wait your instructions, humbly, knowing that I am unworthy to serve My Lady, and eager to obey your every command.”

Zero sobbed and panted her thanks and pledge of obedience. She was still struggling for breath. Her nipple was sore from Mistress Black’s strong grip. Finally Mistress Black released her nipple, and freed her from her restraints.

“Seeing you in pain gives me pleasure,” said Mistress Black. “You will remain in the spread eagled position without restraints.” With that she reached down to Zero’s pussy lips and gripping one in each hand, squeezed as hard as she could.

Although Mistress Black looked fat, she was really quite strong. Her grip was intimate, humiliating and painful. Zero screamed as she felt the pressure. She was in tears as she recited her thank you’s, thanking My Lady for taking her pleasure in Zero’s pain, begging her Mistress to continue to inflict pain on Zero so as to increase My Lady’s pleasure. She did not dare to move a muscle in her arms or legs, as Mistress had commanded her to maintain position.

Finally, Mistress Black released her grip on Zero’s cunt lips and issued a new command. “Using your lips, you will remove my panties.” Zero got on her knees and, as gently and delicately as possible, removed her Mistress’ panties.

“Lie down and open your mouth as wide as possible. I am going to use you as a urinal, as I piss into your mouth. Since you are not trained I shall take the trouble to control my piss, giving you the chance to swallow every mouthful of my precious piss. Later I shall train you to swallow with an open mouth, so that I might piss at my convenience. If you should spill a drop of my piss, you will be punished most severely.”

With that, Mistress Black squatted over Zero’s open mouth and began to piss. Every two seconds, Mistress would stop, wait two seconds for Zero to swallow, and then piss again, filling Zero’s mouth with her golden stream. Finally, Mistress Black lowered herself onto Zero’s mouth.

“Clean me with your tongue,” she ordered, as she sat herself on Zeros face, her ass being on Zero’s nose and her cunt on Zero’s mouth. Once again Zero could not breath. As Zero used her tongue on her Mistress’ pee hole, Mistress Black leaned forward so that Zero could draw a breath through her nose. As Zero took that most needed breath she noticed an awful smell.  Mistress Black had farted directly into Zero’s nose.

“Is not my odor delicious? Is there anything more delightful than the smell of my fart? Come, continue licking my pussy and I shall reward you with the odor of my sweet farts. Fail to please me and I will punish you by pinching you tits.”

Zero could not answer verbally, as her mouth was occupied with licking her Mistress’ pussy. She responded by using her tongue on her Mistress’ cunt as skillfully as she could, using all the techniques that she had learnt from SHITEATER, TOILET and the other slaves. Mistress Black was more demanding. She wanted things just so. She wanted just so much attention paid to her lips. She wanted just so much pressure put on her clit. She wanted her clit flicked just so and sucked just so. Each time that Zero failed to meet her Mistress’ exacting standards, Mistress Black would lower her ass onto Zero’s nose, fart into her nose and then grip Zero’s nipples and squeeze. This would force Zero to breath the fart deeply as she felt the pain in her nipples.

Zero was plunged into pain, fear and humiliation. She had reached, under her Master’s training, an acceptance of her status as slave and she lived to serve her Masters. To become the best slave that she could be. She strove to please her Masters at all times, and would willingly suffer great pains and endure humiliation and degradation so that her pain would give pleasure to her Masters. But now she was serving not a Master but a Mistress. And it must be said, a black Mistress. Although Zero had never been a bigot, she felt a special humiliation. Not only was she serving a woman, she had never thought of any lesbian relationship, but to be a slave to a black woman seemed more humiliating. In addition this particular Mistress seemed particularly cruel. She had been forced to move rapidly, deeper and deeper into pain and humiliation. Would she survive? Or would her life end as she was crushed and suffocated under her Mistress’ fat ass?

Zero felt her Mistress’ pussy getting wet and her Mistress was rocking faster and faster on her face. Finally Zero tasted her Mistress’ cum shoot into her mouth as she climaxed. She felt her mistress’  full weight come down on her face.  Zero could not breath under the massive weight. Zero thought this was the end. Finally Mistress Black leaned forward so that Zero could breath.

“Say thank you for the privilege that you have been granted.” Mistress Black said with a drawl and a large grin. Zero had really been quite good and Mistress Black was drained, but she would not let her slave know that. It would be a long time before she would give Zero any words of praise or encouragement. Right now her job was to break Zero completely. There would be nothing left of Zero except the desire to serve. She would obey all commands quickly. When Mistress Black was finished with her training Zero would be the perfect slave.

“Thank you My Lady, for the great privilege you have granted me to allow you to serve you so completely. What more can a slave ask for in life than to taste the sweet golden stream of her Mistress? And to be privileged to drink My Lady’s piss, directly, not from a container, but from it’s source, is an honor beyond my capacity to express. And then you favored me by allowing me to savor the sweet smell of your body. You allowed me to smell the scents coming from within you. I am not worthy of so great a privilege. And then you used my unworthy body to give you pleasure by inflicting pain on my tits and cunt. My pain is a slight price to pay for the great privilege of giving you pleasure and I pay it willingly and eagerly. And finally, you allowed this unworthy slit, not even a slave, to worship the essence of your womanhood. You troubled yourself to instruct this unworthy one on how to please you best. You directed every detail of my service to you so as to give you pleasure. My only purpose in existing is to give you pleasure. In the same way that a chair is here to sit on, I am here to give you pleasure and I thank you for allowing me to please you.”

Zero gave her prayer of thanks as sincerely as she could. Despite her best efforts, she found herself distracted. She hoped that her Mistress would not pick up on her distraction but it was something that could not be helped.

Zero had been deprived of any sense of time. She had not been allowed any idea of day and night, let alone of hours. This had been done to keep her disoriented and it had succeeded. The breaking down of her sense of time had contributed to her descent into willing slavery. However, there is one clock that all women have, and Zero felt it going off as if it was a giant clock striking the hour. Her period was beginning.

Mistress Black looked at Zero’s face as she was reciting her prayer of thanks. She could sense a lack of enthusiasm in her prayer and saw, in her face that her mind was not focused as it should be. She was deciding what steps to take to correct this flaw when the reason for Zero’s distraction became obvious. There was blood on the sheet between Zeros legs.

“You are soiling your Master’s property and that cannot be allowed.” Mistress Black picked up her panties and commanded Zero to spread her pussy lips wide. “Beg me to place my panties into your filthy cunthole.” Zero was stunned. This was beyond anything she ever thought about, anything she could have imagined. It went past all the mental defenses that she had erected. She had told herself constantly that she must obey all commands instantly, whatever they might be, however much pain she would suffer.

She could not accept this. She simply dissolved into tears.

“So you still think that you are a human being, with dignity and rights? You are no longer human, you have not been human since you were brought here. You are whatever we want you to be, and right now I want you to be a dog, a female dog, in other words, a bitch.”

With that, she took out a large butt plug attached to a doggie tail and pushed it up Zero’s ass. She attached a leash to her collar and pulled her on her hands and knees outside the house. She was on a soft, grassy surface, where her bloody period would leave no stain. She was placed face front in a small doghouse, and restrained so that her hands were chained to the rear wall of the dog house and her knees were attached to the front wall. Her ass and pussy were forced outside the dog house, and were raised so they were displayed prominently, and she could not move. “You are a bitch, you no longer have the gift of speech, you can only bark.”

Zero’s face was forced against the rear wall of the dog house and she could not see a thing. She was crying. She smelled an awful smell and realized that there was dog shit between her knees. It was all too much. She could not go on. Then she felt a hard strong palm spanking her still sore ass. She started to scream. “Bark, you bitch,” yelled Mistress Black angrily. “You may not scream, only humans may scream. You are a bitch and must bark.” Again and again Zero felt Mistress Black’s strong hard palm beating against her poor ass. She kept screaming, She could not gain control. Mistress Black kept up her harsh rapid attack, not giving Zero time to collect herself. Thirty, forty, fifty harsh smacks as hard and as quickly as possible. Mistress Black herself lost count. Finally Mistress Black paused to switch to a short, five stranded flogger. Zero took the opportunity to quickly gain control of herself. Her ass was in terrible agony. She was able to stop her screaming and start to bark.

“That’s a good bitch, louder, wag your tail,” Mistress Black commanded the helpless Zero as she used the whip on her inner thighs and pussy. Zero had regained command over herself and was determined to serve her new Mistress to the best of her ability. If her Mistress wanted a bitch, then a bitch she would be. She continued to bark and wiggled her ass as well as she could. After 10 lashes on her thighs and cunt, Mistress Black decided that her point had been made. She too, realized the value of this slave, and despite her threats and Zero’s fears, was not going to put Zero in any danger of her life.

“I am going to leave you here to learn what it means to be a bitch. However, before I go, I am going to change your tail.” With that she removed the large Butt plug tail and replaced it with one that was longer but thinner. It also was coated with Ben Gay. As it penetrated and filled Zero’s ass, the lineament began to sting and burn. “This will train you in wagging your tail,” said Mistress Black with a big grin as she left. “Remember to keep barking.”

Zero was left in agony. Her ass, which just a short time ago had been unused, was filled with a long narrow dildo that was coated with Ben Gay. It was burning her ass from the inside. It was like a fire. She kept wiggling her ass and barking. Her ass was moving by itself, without her thinking about it, as the fire in her ass grew hotter and hotter.

Zero had no idea of how long she was in the doghouse. She was overwhelmed by the smell of the dog shit every time that she breathed. She kept barking and wiggling her ass. Occasionally someone would walk by and spank her ass, which added to her pain and her humiliation. Once, someone came and started to remove the butt plug and she thought that her ordeal might be over, but that was a mere prelude to further torture. Whoever removed the butt plug used it rape Zero’s ass as hard as possible. It was forced into her ass, hard and fast, harder and faster, reaching deep into Zero’s ass, beating against the rear wall of her ass. Zero kept barking throughout this rape. Finally, without so much as a sound, the unknown assailant reinserted the plug and left. Zero continued to bark and wiggle her ass through her tears.  Why had she refused Mistress Black’s order? Would she get another chance to be a human slave? Or would she be a bitch forever? She was determined to obey all orders and do her best to please. She would do anything to please.

Finally, someone removed the butt plug and silently inserted an enema bulb. Zero felt the hot, soapy water filling her ass. She continued barking. Despite the pain of the hot water, she looked forward to the flushing of the burning lineament from her ass. But the water kept coming. Two quarts, three quarts and more. She had never been so full. Finally the hose was removed. Zero was still barking as she waited for instructions. But none came. Whoever gave the enema left in silence. She was left alone with an ass full of hot water. She was still obeying orders to bark and wiggle her ass. Finally, she could hold out no longer. Shit spurted from her ass, landing on her feet and her thighs. She remained, barking and wiggling her ass, filthy and covered with her own shit.

How much longer would she be forced to remain a bitch? How much longer would she be remain lying in her own shit? Finally, someone came, whether the same person or another, Zero would never know, and hosed Zero off. Zero felt relieved until once again, she felt the enema enter her ass. Once again she felt the hot soapy water enter her ass, filling her beyond capacity. Again, in total silence, she was left as she was before, crying in pain and total humiliation, barking and wiggling her ass.

As much as she tried to hold her ass tight, she was again overwhelmed by the pressure in her ass, and once again she spurted the shitty water all over herself. Once again she was left alone, still barking and wiggling her ass. But she noticed the pain in her ass from the lineament was gone. The fire was out. That was some small measure of relief.

Zero could tell from the feel of the sun on her ass that she had been outside for a long time. She could feel the sun move across her ass and she could feel the temperature growing cooler. This was the first time since she was captured that she could feel the passing of time. Again, someone came silently and hosed her down. Great care was taken to make sure that she was totally clean. She heard the hose focused on the ground around her and she realized that her shit was being hosed away from the entire area. She remained in the doghouse and was left to dry in the fading sun, accompanied only by the sound of her own barking. Her wiggling ass was aided by her shivering in the cold.

Then she felt two hands on her ass and two thumbs spreading her anus. She felt the tip of a cock at the edge of her anus, and then without a sound or warning of any sort, it plunged into her dry asshole. It was all Zero could do not to scream. Her bark turned into howl of pain, agony and humiliation. She was being raped in her ass, without any idea who was doing this to her.  She felt a set of balls banging against her ass. She felt a large cock pounding violently deep into her ass. Then she felt two hands on her ass, pinching and spanking, pinching and spanking. Zero kept up the occasional bark and wiggled her ass as best as she could. Finally she could hear a difference in the man’s breathing. Before he came in her ass however, he pulled out and shot his load on her ass rather than inside. Zero did not know why, but this added to her humiliation. Not only was her ass raped by an unknown stranger, in total silence, but her body was not deemed worthy of receiving the gift of a Master’s seed.

That was one reason that Master had pulled out, to further Zero’s humiliation. There was another. Zero was going to stay in her doghouse all night long. Anyone who passed by was free to use her ass at will. There were only two rules. One was absolute silence. Zero was to have no clue as to who was abusing her, who was torturing her, who was raping her. The second rule was that no one was permitted to come inside her. This added to her humiliation and to her pain, as each rape of her ass would be a dry rape, both cock and asshole totally unlubricated. This added to the pleasure of the Master, as it increased the feeling of tightness of the ass on his cock.

So as night fell, Zero felt the chill. She had no idea where she was, but she was in a warm climate so she was in no danger. Nevertheless, she was cold, lonely and uncomfortable in her restraints. Master’s cum was drying on her ass cheeks. She was still overwhelmed by the smell of the dog shit between her knees. All she could do was cry, and remember to bark on occasion.

She still felt the blood from her period dripping on her thighs. She truly felt like an animal, reduced to barking and wiggling her ass. Not allowed to talk, no one making a sound, nothing to listen to, nothing to think about besides following the order to bark and wiggle her ass. She didn’t even know if anyone was watching her. She could not wipe the tears streaming down her face. She could no longer imagine going back to her old life. Her dream was to once again be a slave to her Masters and Mistress, and to willingly  serve them with her body and soul. She hated just being used as an animal, as a bitch, and silently prayed for another chance, to be worthy of being a true slave, not a mere hole.

Night fell and Zero remained alone with her thoughts. Another Master came and used her ass harshly and silently. Again, he pulled out to shoot his cum on her ass and not in her ass. Zero continues to bark. As the birds began their morning songs, Zero again was raped in the ass. This time the attack was not as rough but the Master continued his attack for a long time. While Zero could not tell the time, she knew the Master had started his attack while it was still dark, but by the time he pulled out and shot his load on her ass, she felt the sun. Each attack was accompanied by harsh slaps and pinches and Zero’s ass was completely black and blue. How much longer would this ordeal go on?

Finally she heard a human voice. “Good morning Zero”, she heard the slow drawl of Mistress Black. “You may not speak, but you may stop barking. Keep wiggling your ass.  At my command, you will be allowed to speak. You will beg forgiveness for your failures and thank me for punishing you, you will then tell me your deepest desires. I will give you time to organize your thoughts. Be very careful. Your words will determine your future.”

Zero was very afraid. She tried to organize her thoughts and found her thoughts racing in fear. This was Mistress Black’s plan. Zero was going back to her status as slave, having been punished and terrorized. While the punishment would stop, Zero would have to live in constant fear that, at any time she could be forced once again to become a bitch.

“Speak.”

Zero responded as quickly as she could.        “How can I dare to even beg forgiveness for my failure. I put my body ahead of My Lady’s commands. I did not serve My Lady willingly and eagerly. I failed to be grateful for the opportunity My Lady gave me, to be allowed to drink her piss, directly from her beautiful pussy, to give pleasure through my obedience and through my pain. I was not grateful for the special privilege that My Lady was willing to bestow on this lowly and unworthy slave, to place her panties, which had covered her wonderful and beautiful Pussy, into my filthy, bleeding cunt, to use her panties to soak up my bloody period. I did not appreciate what an honor My Lady was granting me, and instead of gratitude, I repaid My Lady’s kindness with disobedience. I am ashamed and I beg My Lady’s forgiveness.

“I thank My Lady for going to the trouble to punish this unworthy slave, this Zero. I am not worthy of My Lady’s attention. I thank My Lady for reducing me to a bitch, to ordering me to bark like a dog and wag her tail. I thank My Lady for placing me in a doghouse like a bitch, for forcing me to smell the dog shit that she thoughtfully arranged beneath my nose, and for punishing my ass thoroughly, with Dildos and with lineament. For forcing me to have large painful enemas and causing me to lie down covered in my own shit. For cleaning me so that my ass could be used for Master’s pleasure. My Lady punished this unworthy and ungrateful slave skillfully and ingeniously. My Lady kept me in darkness and in silence to force this ungrateful slave to realize what its purpose is and what it truly desires.

“ This slave wants to serve. It wants to serve humbly, willingly and eagerly. This slave desires to please, to please through her body, to please through her pain, to please through her obedience. To please through her eagerness to please. This slave has learnt that she can have no other thought but to serve. Not merely that the desire to serve must come first, but that this slave can have no other desire. This slave has learnt that her physical needs are no longer her concern, and she will no longer give them any thought. All her thoughts must and will be only on giving pleasure to her Masters, to My Lady, eventually to my future owner.

“This slaves physical needs are their concern, not mine. My only desire is to serve, to give pleasure, to obey. I thank My Lady again, for ingeniously punishing this unworthy slave and teaching this Zero it’s proper role and duties.”

Mistress Black paused for a while and Zero trembled with fear. Had she been properly repentant? Was there anything she left out? At long last she heard the voice of her Mistress. “Very well, you will be given another opportunity to serve. But remember, if anyone, at anytime, calls you “BITCH” you will immediately drop to your knees, wag your ass and bark.”

Zero was released from her restraints. She backed out of her doghouse and was led to a large dog bowl, filled with the same mixture of chopped meats, soft boiled eggs, cottage cheese  and salads that she had been given as her first meal, so long ago. This time she licked up her meal quickly and gratefully, thanking her mistress for caring for her. She was the led to a large bowl of cold milk, which again she lapped up with great eagerness and gratitude. After she had eaten and drunk her fill, she was led on her knees back inside, to her special shower. She was allowed a short time in the shower to clean off. When the shower stopped Zero immediately fell on her knees and thanked her Mistress for allowing her to be clean. She was given permission to ask for a privilege. She immediately responded:

“If My Lady would be so kind as to hear the plea of a lowly slave, I am bleeding from my cunt and I fear to spoil property belonging to my Masters. I beg My Mistress to place her precious panties, that have covered her glorious pussy into my filthy cunt, so that my blood does not drip and dirty Masters property.”

Zero felt one stroke of the whip on her ass. “Very well, assume the position. But you will never again refer to my pussy, you will call it my “Place of Worship” for that is what it is to you.” With that Mistress Black removed her panties and used them to wipe her cunt and ass. She then inserted them into Zero’s cunt.

Zero was ecstatic in her thanks. “Thank you for honoring me with your panties that you have actually placed inside your body, that you now place inside my filthy cunt.”

The session was coming to a close but Mistress Black had one more trick to play before permitting Zero to sleep. “You will see spots of blood on the floor. You will use your tongue to lick up those spots.” Zero set out on her knees, using her tongue to lick up her menstrual blood. She was grateful for Mistress Black’s panties that were within her cunt, absorbing her bloody flow. She  no longer thought of anything besides obedience and service. She finished licking up all the spots of blood and gratefully thanked her Mistress for allowing her an opportunity to serve and hoped that her service gave pleasure to her Mistress. With that she was restrained in spread eagle position on her bed and allowed to sleep.

CHAPTER 11

The Making of a Mistress

Master Dave had been watching Zero’s ordeal along with Mistress White. “She really broke her quickly, and I like that she did not rely on pure pain.”

“Yes,” said Mistress White, “We have found that pain must be combined with total humiliation to be effective. Without humiliation, pain can create resentment and hostility. What we look to create is a sense in the slave of its complete worthlessness. When the slave is convinced that it is worthless, it will be honored to serve, to bear pain, eager to please. We have done that with our sissy men for years. It is no different with bitches than it is for sissy sluts.”

“There I disagree with you,” said Master Dave, “but only in detail. I believe in letting the slave know that her obedience and service is valued, but we make it clear that her obedience and service is her only value. We want her to feel pride in her slavery. We want her only desire to be the best slave in the world, and to understand that even the best slave in the world has value only in her obedience. When we sell the slaves at auction, the opening bid is $500. That really means a bid of $500,000. Most slaves sell for between $1,000,000. and $2,000,000. We would never let the slaves know their real sales price. We let them think that they were purchased for petty cash, a thousand, two thousand or maybe three thousand dollars for a special slave. They will never get the idea that they have any real value, except as they satisfy their master’s.”

“I see what you mean. We tear down the slave completely. You try to give the slave pride in its slavery.”

“Yes, that’s it exactly. Our slaves are constantly trying to become better slaves.”

Mistress White considered what she heard. “That’s probably because you really like women, while Mistress Black and myself really hate men.”

“Like women? I love women! I think women are God’s gift to men. They give me great joy. They look good, they smell good, they feel good. They can give men the greatest pleasure. Our cocks are made to fit snugly in their mouths, their asses and their mouths . They can come so often. And watching them have pleasure gives me pleasure. Of course I love women. They must, however, be aware of their role, their purpose. They are made to please their masters. Any pleasure they receive is for the pleasure of their master, not for  themselves. That is the joy of training them. To bring out their full value. If you were driving a car, would you rather have an old Ford Pinto, or a new Porsche or a Ferrari? But the Porsche never thinks that I am meant to be it’s driver. I value the Porsche, and take good care of it. I value the women that I come into contact with, I value the women that I train. I just make sure that they understand what it is that I value. I value most of all, obedience and willingness, no, eagerness to please. I value the ability to bear pain. Not every women has that ability, and some of our trainees have that noted on their files when they are sold. Their new owners, of course, can treat them any way they wish, but certain slaves come with our recommendation that too much pain will be counterproductive. My own slave, Shiteater, loves pain. When I don’t give her enough pain she feels ignored. When I whip her harshly, her cunt gets all wet. She has to fight not to come without permission. Yes, part of that is our training, but part is genetic talent. But tell me, why do you hate men?”

“My mother died when I was 11. She was hit by a car while out taking a walk late one night. I can never prove it, but I think she was running away from my her boyfriend, who, I believe, abused her. My real father died when I was a baby. He was killed in a terrorist incident and my mother was forced to raise me by herself. She had told me the facts of life, but it was only 6 months after she died that I had my first period. I remember I had to ask my mother’s boyfriend, he continued to live in our house and raise me, for money to buy Kotex. I was so embarrassed. He gave me this strange look. A week later, he came to my room at night and started telling me how lonely he was since Mom died. To make a long story short, he started using me that night and continued using me for years. At first he was gentle and loving. The first time he played with my tits forever before he started playing with my cunt. He brought me to one climax with his fingers and one with his tongue before he “explained” to me his physical need and asked me if I didn’t want to make him “feel good.” He tricked me into begging him to “make me a woman”, “to put his cock into my hot pussy”. Later, when I threatened to go to the police, he played the tapes he secretly made. I knew I could not tell anyone what happened because even if he went to jail I would be destroyed.

“But that is getting ahead of the story. That first night he was as gentle as he could be. When he placed his cock into my small tight pussy he was gentle and slow. He waited till I absorbed the pain of the initial penetration and then he controlled himself until I was about to come, when he pumped a little harder and came with me. He told me how happy I made him and what a good little girl I was. He kissed me goodnight.

He continued to pay me nightly visits and he would often buy me presents, a special dress, a hot CD, new shoes. Sometimes he would just give me twenty dollars and told me that I could spend it on anything that I wanted. I thought twenty dollars was a fortune. What a cheap whore he made me.

“Anyway, as time passed, he started treating me rougher and rougher. He started to use my mouth. After all, he used his tongue on me, fair was fair. When I grew a little older, when I had my periods, he would fuck me in the ass. He spent less and less time getting me ready and was rougher and rougher, biting my tits, biting my cunt lips, slapping my ass. Instead of calling me his good little girl, he would call me his little slut, his cheap whore. This is when I threatened to tell the cops and he pulled out the tape of the first session and said that he would claim that I seduced him so as not to be sent to social services.

“He would continually spank me until there were days that I could not bear to sit down. He started to find excuses to punish me during the day as well. He would never call me by my name. He would only call me slut, whore or bitch. One day he brought home a “friend”. He said that I was to be nice to his “friend” and left. The friend made me get undressed. He tied me up, said that I was a bad girl and started beating me with his belt. When he was finished beating me he fucked me in the ass with a dildo and made me beg him to fuck my cunt. He too, had a hidden recorder and the tape of my begging to be fucked in my cunt by his magnificent cock was very convincing. He locked the dildo in my ass as he viciously fucked my young, tight pussy.

“As I grew older, my “uncle” (so I was told to call him) brought friends over on a regular basis. I had to come home right after school because I never knew when my “uncle” might need me, whether for ordinary household tasks like cleaning or cooking, or to satisfy his cock, or the cocks of any of his friends.

“There were certain days of the year that were always hell. On Thanksgiving, Christmas and the Fourth of July I would be blindfolded and locked on a horse, with my three openings available to any of his “friends” who walked through the door.  Super Bowl Sundays were particularly gory, as there was a lot of drinking and a lot of betting and the losers would take their frustrations out on my body, which would be left in agony. They whipped my ass and cunt and pinched and pulled my tits. They used me as an ash tray, grinding out their cigarettes all over my body. The used me throughout the day, two or three at a time.

Then I got lucky. I was still in High School and someone decided to give a special class in how a girl could protect herself from a mugger. They taught us a few Karate blows that, if done properly, would knock a mugger unconscious. I practiced hard because I knew that I would only have one chance. My “uncle”got careless while fucking me and I was able to give him a knee in the balls as hard as I could. He bent over, not even worried, because he knew he would punish me like never before.  Meanwhile I took advantage of his pain by knocking him unconscious with one of the karate chops that I had learnt in school.  I quickly ran to the closet where we had PVC wrapping tape, the kind of tape used to tape cartons.  I quickly strapped his wrists behind his back and his ankles together. He was beginning to stir so I hit him again and continued to wrap the tape. I knew my life depended on it. I wrapped the tape several times around his mouth so he could not talk or scream for help. I bent his elbows behind his back and wrapped the tape around his body so that his wrists were locked between his shoulder blades. Finally, I wrapped tape from above his knees down to just above his ankle so that he could walk only in the most tiny, mincing steps. He was in my power. I would have my revenge.

“I found the dildo that he used to rape me. I rubbed it with Ben Gay and hot sauce, then shoved it as hard as I could into his ass. He was starting to stir, and I could see him trying to scream through the tape. He was in agony. I took some more of the PVC tape and I attached a strip to his waist, over his cock and balls and over his ass. He could not expel the dildo from his ass, nor could he get an erection, as the tape was too tight to allow it.

“The great thing about PVC tape as a restraint is that it hurts like hell when it is removed. The tape would have to be removed for “uncle” to piss or shit and he would beg me for the privilege of having it removed. But that would come later. Right now I was just enjoying watching him helpless, unable even to scream. I took out a dog collar, fastened it around his neck, and pulled him, still wrapped in PVC tape down to the Basement. He bounced painfully on the stairs as we descended. He was mine. I would tame him and train him to be my slave.

The first thing I would have to do was weaken him. I would only give him one meal per day, but since he would have no way of telling time, I would tell him that he was being fed on a regular basis. I left him on the floor with instructions to remain still. I went upstairs to eat dinner and then I bathed and enjoyed a good nights sleep. In the morning, I brought dinner to my slave and saw that he was not still, but had made his way around the room, searching for a way to free himself and escape. Of course, there was no such way, but the slave had to be punished for disobeying my orders. I used his own belt to whip his ass.  I then told him that I would remove the tape from over his mouth so that he could eat dinner, before I put him to bed for the night. He was to remain quiet and not scream. I waited until he nodded to show that he understood, before I ripped the tape from his mouth. He held back his screams but could not control his groans of pain.

“I had a plate of meat and vegetables that I cut up for my slave and I placed it on the floor, where he could, by lying face down on the concrete floor manage to eat. I had a bowl of water put next to his main dish. I did not want my slave to die of thirst. I was threatening to put the tape back on, when he called my name.

I kicked him in the ribs, as hard as I could. “You will never use my name again. You will call me MISTRESS, and you will use a prefix, such as Beautiful MISTRESS, or Kind MISTRESS, or Merciful MISTRESS. Use your imagination. Use different prefixes and try to amuse me. Now, what do you want, slave?”

I think that it was only then that he understood what deep trouble he was in. He saw the hatred in my eyes and saw that he was in for a long ordeal. He really did not know what to say or what to do. To show him that he must adjust to his new status, I once again made to retape his mouth.

“Please, Merciful MISTRESS, may your slave beg a favor?” At my contemptuous nod he went on, “I have to go to the bathroom.” I started to whip him as hard as I could. “Slaves don’t use the word “I”. Slaves say “this lowly slave humbly begs permission”. Second, slaves don’t have to go to the bathroom. They humbly request permission to piss or shit. Now try again.

“Merciful MISTRESS, this lowly slave humbly begs permission to piss.” I ripped off the PVC loin cloth, which painfully removed a large clump of hair from his groin. I then took an empty milk bottle and held his cock at the edge of the milk bottle when I ordered him to piss. “Don’t you dare get an erection while I am helping you piss,”  I commanded him in my harshest tones. When his cock began to grow slightly in my hand, I took my other hand and started slapping his balls as hard as I could. “Slaves are not entitled to an erection unless they are specifically ordered. Erections without orders will be punished severely.”

By this time the Ben Gay and hot sauce on the dildo in his ass would be losing effect, and I did not want him using that to keep track of time, so I was “kind” enough to allow him to “shit out” the dildo. I prepared him to sleep by retaping his cock and balls and laying him on a thin mattress and covering him with a blanket. As I went off to school, my slave went to sleep, thinking it was the night time.

“When I got home from school, I started to search the house from top to bottom. Eventually I found the financial records. The house belonged to my mother and was now mine. I would get a lawyer to look after the details. My father had left a life insurance policy for me and over the years the balance had grown to a tidy sum. I would not have to worry about money. I would be able to enjoy playing with my slave.”

Master Dave had listened to Mistress White’s tale with great interest and attention. He felt sure that he was the first male to hear this story and he was flattered. But he was also worried.

“Your “uncle” was a real asshole and I am glad you were able to turn the tables on him. One day I’d love to hear the rest of the story. But you must understand something. Our slave girls leave here so well trained that they want to be slaves, they cannot imagine being anything else. Some of our slaves become trophy wives or secretaries. If they had any desire for freedom they could easily bring down the whole organization. They would rather be slaves than free, which is why our slaves are so valuable. You are going to be training male slaves for the pleasure of daughters of members. If any slave has any desire for freedom, his owner might be in grave physical danger. The only successful training is to end up with a slave whose purpose in life is to be the best slave possible. It is bad enough if a slave dares to come without his Mistress’ permission. That in itself can lead to tremendous complications. But if a slave should ever get the idea that it has any other purpose in life except in being a slave, if he should ever want something else for himself besides slavery, we have not done our jobs and we may be in deep trouble. For that reason we have to make sure that we give the slaves love as we get deeper and deeper into their training. This love need not, in fact must not, bring the slave any physical rewards. But the slave must feel his slavery is appreciated as a gift, a tribute that he pays to his Mistress. It is only by giving the slave the gift of our love that we can get from him the gift of his ultimate loyalty.

“As we conclude Zero’s training you will see what I mean and we will discuss how to bring this technique to use on your men slaves. We must make the slaves view their Mistress’ as if they were their own babies. The slave must be ready to die rather than see their Mistress hurt in any way. Merely disappointing a Mistress should be enough to cause the slave traumatic distress. That is the goal of your training. We cannot have our slaves waiting for an opportunity to get free. They must have no other desire except to be the best possible slave and fulfill all the desires of their Mistress. This is not an easy job, but that is why we recruited you and are paying you so well. If it was easy, anyone could do it.”

CHAPTER 12

FINAL EXAM

Zero recovered from her ordeal and once more was serving her Masters with her mouth and ass. She was proud of her ability to take pain for the pleasure of her Masters. Her period had ended and she was grateful to Mistress Black for training her so well. She served Mistress Black humbly and was in awe when Mistress White allowed her the honor of permitting her to use her lips and tongue at her “Place of Worship”. She would no longer allow herself to think of the word “pussy” or “cunt” in relation to her two wonderful Mistresses, each, in her own way, so delightfully inventive and cruel. She felt that she was truly becoming an excellent slave and was taking pride in her ability to serve and please. She was therefore puzzled when Master, her first and main trainer, threatened to throw her out and leave her to her own devices.

“If you are not happy as a slave, you are free to leave. By this time in your training, you should be proud and happy as a slave. If you are not, then you will never be, and we had best be rid of you as soon as possible.”

Zero was truly terror stricken. She could not imagine anything that would frighten her more than being given her freedom. Mistress White, who was sitting next to Master, saw the look of terror on Zero’s face and felt that this was a message meant for her as well as Zero.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“Master, I am ashamed of having failed to convey my gratitude for your training me as a slave. I have no other wish than to be a slave, to you, to my other Masters and my wonderfully cruel Mistresses, and eventually, to my owner. I must have failed in some way, and I beg you to punish me as cruelly as possible for my failure. But I beg my Master to tell me where I have failed, as I want to improve and serve you according to all your desires.”

“Where have you failed? You have been fucked in the face and the ass, and yet you do not realize that your cunt is still virginal? Are you perhaps saving that precious gift for someone else?  Perhaps you want to give that gift to your old boyfriend? That is why I offered you freedom.  I do not want to take something that you wish to give to someone else.”

Zero was in a state of panic. She did not know how to respond. Sha had promised to save her virginity for her boyfriend, Stan, but that was a lifetime ago. Of course she wanted Master to have her virginity. It was the only gift that she could bestow, and she wanted to give it to her Master. She wanted her Master to possess her totally. She wanted to be an extension of his will, to exist only to please him. She never thought of offering her virginity simply because she never thought that it was hers to offer.

“Master, I do not think of anything as belonging to me. I belong to you. Totally. I have no desire except to please you. Every thought that goes through my mind is how may I please you. I wish to please you with every breath that I take. I wish to please you with every lash that I accept, ever grateful that you choose me and my pain to give you pleasure. My cunt is yours, for you to do with whatever pleases you, whether you choose to grant me the great honor of allowing my cunt to please your wonderful cock or whether you wish to take pleasure by inflicting great pain, or whether you wish to ignore it, it belongs to you. I do not dare to think about what you should do with your property.”

Master replied  “I am going to allow you, no, I am going to command you to think of an appropriate way for you to offer me the gift of your virginity. The gift should indicate your willingness to suffer for my pleasure and acknowledge that your purpose is only to give us pleasure. So that you may concentrate your mind on this task, you will be suitably restrained. First, however, your body will be cleaned. Prepare to receive an enema.”

Zero knelt down, with her ass held proudly in the air. Her hands went to her ass cheeks and she pulled her cheeks apart, waiting for the nozzle. She felt the nozzle enter her ass and the soapy water squirted into her bowels. She was not given a large enema, only one quart, but was commanded to maintain position and not release until ordered. Master Dave and Mistress White left for a brief swim and a gourmet lunch, while Zero remained, holding her ass cheeks apart, and struggling not to shit. Zero was fighting the terrible feeling, the need to shit. She struggled to maintain her position and not to squirm. She fought against the overwhelming urge to release the shit that was in her. She had no idea how long she waited or how long she would remain. She only knew it was her job to obey her Master’s orders. She only hoped that Master was taking some pleasure in her pain and in her obedience. Finally, Master came back, accompanied by Mistress White and Shiteater, who was carrying Zero’s bucket.

“You may sit on your bucket”, commanded her Master. Zero sat down. She was crying, but the command to release was not given and Zero maintained her tight internal grip on her bowels, struggling to control her need to shit. Master and Mistress White were whispering in each others ears and giggling. They completely ignored Zero and her pain. They decided that Shiteater needed 10  strokes of the cane across her pussy lips, and delivered them slowly, to the accompaniment of great gasps of pain and sincere thank you’s. Finally Master allowed Zero to release her shit. After she was completely empty, Zero was told that she would be allowed to concentrate fully on planning a proper gift of her virginity. She was blindfolded and restrained in a kneeling position. She was then placed in a hot tub, floating, so that no part of her body would touch anything but water. Her neck was restrained so that her head was held above the water, which was kept at a constant, comfortable temperature. She was floating, doing a slow dog paddle. She was given a last order. “THINK WELL. Show me through the gift of your virginity, how you value your service to your Master.” Then her ears were stopped. She could not see or hear. There was nothing to taste or smell. And she could not feel anything solid, only the warm water. The restraints forced her to keep her legs apart, but they were gentle. She was without external stimuli. She was left to concentrate on her orders.

Mistress White asked Master “What do you think she’ll come up with?”

“It doesn’t matter. This hot tub is the purpose of this exercise. Everything else is just a magicians distraction from the main event. This sensory depravation will allow us to complete her training.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll bring you back in about 12 hours. Then I’ll be able to show you the last step in our training. Meanwhile, my dear Mistress White, let me admit that I find you extremely attractive. I’d like you to join me in my room and explore with you the joys of sex between equals. I heard how you were mistreated. I’d like you to see that sex between a man and a woman can be satisfying for both.”

Mistress White joined Master Dave fearfully. Although she had her slaves service her orally, she had not been penetrated by a cock since she turned the tables on her “uncle”, and that was many years ago. Still, something about Dave intrigued her. Perhaps it was time to explore new possibilities. Dave had hinted to her that her hatred of men was going to make it difficult for her to be the perfect Mistress that this mysterious group was looking for, and she enjoyed living here, with no worries about police or newspapers.

Dave knew that he must proceed very slowly. Mistress White, who finally allowed that her real name was Marilyn, was as fearful as any virgin. On the other hand, she was breathtakingly gorgeous, with long legs, a round ass and firm breasts. She also was intelligent and easy to talk to. If he could get her over her fear, he would have a true companion. True, he always had Shiteater, but there were times when he wanted more than a slave. He brushed her cheeks with his fingers and slowly kissed her on the neck, working his way up to her ears. He slowly undressed her and gently stroked her beautiful breasts, barely touching the nipples. He was going as slowly and gently as he ever had, remembering how he treated his high school girlfriends. He had seduced more than one reluctant virgin, and was going to treat Marilyn the same way. Gradually, he moved his mouth to her tits, gently sucking on each one in turn, while using one hand on her ass and the other on the tit that he was not sucking. He listened carefully to her cues and gradually heard the difference in the pace of her breathing. She began to moan, and in response, he began to play with her pussy. Her lips were wet as she was responding to the stimulation of her tits by his lips and tongue. He stroked her pussy lips, again beginning very gently, barely touching, and as her responsiveness increased, using more and more pressure. He stayed away from her clit, waiting till she wanted to come so badly, till she was moaning and rocking on his hand. Finally, he took two fingers and rubbed them back and forth over her swollen clit. She screamed as she climaxed.

Dave got undressed himself and once again started to massage Marilyn’s pussy, this time inserting a finger into her pussy while playing with her clit. As he suspected, her pussy was as tight as any that he had since High School. Marilyn was rapidly climbing the path to a second climax, and it was time for her to be fucked. At the same time, it was essential for her not to panic and lose it. He lay down on his back, and guided Marilyn over him till she lowered her pussy over his big, hard cock. Slowly, his cock entered her pussy. At first just the head, as she paused fearfully. Slowly she began to lower herself. It was all he could do not to raise himself suddenly and slam into that tight, hot cunt. But he controlled himself and lay still as she slowly lowered herself till she had his entire cock in her wet cunt. What a glorious feeling.

He remained still, letting Marilyn rock on his hard cock, letting her fuck herself on his cock, letting her control the pace. She started to moan and yell, “YES!! YES!!, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, I’m coming, I’m coming, I never knew it could be so gooood!!!” He felt her pussy clenching and gripping his rock hard cock. Still, he did not move.

That was two climaxes for Marilyn. Now it was his turn. He gripped her tiny waist and started to lift her up and push her down on his rock hard cock. He started slowly, as she just had two mighty climaxes, and he had to work her up again if he wanted her to reach a third. She was sliding up and down his cock, as he lifted her by the waist.  He could tell she was peaking. Her nostrils were flaring, her mouth was wide open, She was screaming, “YES, YES, YES” as he slammed her up and down on his cock. Faster and faster, harder and harder, he slammed his cock into her hot wet pussy. He could not last much longer when she climaxed. He felt her pussy clenching and that was his signal. He came powerfully, filling her hot cunt with jet after jet of his powerful sperm. He held her tight on his cock, till he at long last grew soft.

“Wow” they both said at the same time, and then they laughed together as well. Marilyn said “I did not know what I was missing.” Dave promised to help her make up for lost time. For Dave, with all of his experience, it was the best sexual encounter he could remember. He would have to make sure that he kept seeing a lot of  Mistress Marilyn White.

He rolled over and pushed a button. Shiteater came crawling through the dog entrance, head bowed, ass up. “Clean Mistress White’s pussy, then clean my cock and balls.” Shiteater immediately crawled onto the bed and gently lapped up the juices from Mistress White’s pussy. She was careful to suck and swallow and she enjoyed the taste of the combination of juices, her Master’s delicious sperm and Mistress White’s fragrant juices. She then proceeded to suck off her Master’s marvelous cock. By the time she was finished Master was once again rock hard, but he could tell that Mistress White was exhausted from her three climaxes. He was tired himself, so he just took the opportunity to piss into SHITEATER’S mouth before he rolled over, and, with one arm resting across Mistress White’s shoulders, they both fell asleep.

They awoke refreshed two hours later. Shiteater helped them both get dressed and they   instructed their slave to bring some light refreshment for them into the pool room, where they would see how Zero was responding to her ordeal. Of course, Zero was in exactly the same position now as she had been left, but her rate of breathing had increased. Her mind could not cope with the lack of external stimulation and was beginning to race and panic.

“Perfect. Now you will see, or rather hear, the final step of our training program.” With that Dave gave Mistress White a set of earphones. “You  are going to hear what Zero will be hearing through the plugs that are in her ears. The difference is that Zero will be hearing it at such a low volume that she will be unsure if she is hearing anything at all. It will require all her concentration to make out the words. And what she is hearing will be repeated over and over again, sometimes so low that it can only be heard subconsciously, sometimes just a little louder, once in a great while, loud enough to be heard clearly and understood. The different levels of volume, the time that she has spent without external stimulation and the repetitions will lock in the message into her subconscious mind. She will be a complete slave. Listen.”

With that Mistress White put on the earphones and heard a deep bass voice. It was incredibly powerful and disturbing. “YOU WILL LOVE YOUR MASTERS AND OWNERS WITH ALL YOUR HEART, ALL YOUR BODY, AND ALL YOUR SOUL. YOU WILL HAVE NO THOUGHT EXCEPT TO PLEASE THEM. YOU WILL PLEASE THEM WITH YOUR MOUTH, YOU WILL PLEASE THEM WITH YOUR ASS, YOU WILL PLEASE THEM WITH YOUR CUNT. YOU WILL PLEASE THEM WITH YOUR PAIN. YOU WILL PLEASE THEM WITH YOUR OBEDIENCE. YOU WILL NOT EAT EXCEPT TO PLEASE THEM. YOU WILL NOT SLEEP EXCEPT TO PLEASE THEM. YOU WILL NOT PISS EXCEPT TO PLEASE THEM. YOU WILL NOT SHIT EXCEPT TO PLEASE THEM. YOU WILL NOT CUM EXCEPT TO PLEASE THEM.

YOU EXIST TO PLEASE YOUR MASTERS. BECAUSE YOUR MASTERS LOVE YOU, THEY ALLOW YOU TO PLEASE THEM. IF THEY DID NOT LOVE YOU, THEY WOULD NOT ALLOW YOU TO SERVE THEM. BECAUSE OF THEIR LOVE FOR YOU THEY ALLOW YOU THE OPPORTUNITY TO GIVE THEM PLEASURE. YOU WILL BE GRATEFUL FOR THEIR LOVE AND SERVE THEM WITH THE LOVE AND GRATITUDE THAT THEY DESERVE.”

The voice went silent and Mistress White removed her headphones. “Wow, if you have this tape, why do you need the training?”

“ The tape only works when the slave is at the point of its training where it is ready to receive the message without resistance. If it is used without proper preparation, the brain builds up a resistance, and fighting the message, becomes stronger. It is always better to use this tape late, which just takes some extra time, than use it too early, which can build up resistance and immunity. Zero will be listening to this tape for the next 12 hours. The message will be part of her soul. After this, she could no more resist her slavery than she could stop her heart from beating. Meanwhile she is still designing a proper way of giving me her virginity. As I told you, it doesn’t matter, I needed an excuse to put her in the tub without arousing her suspicions, but I will admit to being curious. In all my years here, this is the first virgin I have trained, and I have to admit to looking forward to it. I’m going to stop the tape in 12 hours and give her another hour of silence before I release her. Why don’t we meet back here 13 hours from now?”

Thirteen hours later, Zero was removed from the tub. As her restraints were removed she had a big smile on her face and she kept repeating “Thank you Master for allowing me to serve you, thank you for allowing me to be your slave.” Shiteater came with a large fluffy towel, and rubbed Zero until she was dry. Master finally asked Zero if she had thought of suitable way of presenting the gift of her virginity. Zero fell to her knees and begged permission to speak.

When granted permission she began. “I want, through the giving to you the last thing that can be called mine, my virginity, to demonstrate that I am yours totally. I am here to beg to bear pain, so that you may take pleasure in my pain. I am here for you to use my body, so that my entire body is nothing but an instrument for giving you pleasure. I beg to demonstrate my love for my Master’s and I pray that you allow me to give you my virginity as a climax to enjoying my pain and the use of my entire body.”

Zero then outlined what she had come up with and Master was pleased to allow her plan to begin. He called in his assistants and the staff so that all could witness Zero’s ordeal.

“As you requested, we will begin with 10 strokes of the whip across your back. You will not be restrained. Part of your demonstration is your ability to maintain your position under pain, without restraints. You may lean against the wall.”

With that Master took a long whip and cracked it near Zero’s ear. She gave a start. “Are you prepared to begin?”

“I humbly beg my Master to allow me to demonstrate my love by lashing my back with a whip.”

There was a loud pop as Master cracked the whip on Zero’s back. The first stroke was on her right shoulder. Zero gasped but quickly counted one, thanked her Master and begged for another. Two followed quickly, across her left shoulder, again followed by her count, her gracious thank you and her request gor another. Three followed, across the center of her back and cracked the skin. Zero kept smiling, counting and begging for more.  Master slowed the pace, allowing Zero to feel the pain of each stroke. It made no difference. Zero kept her count, kept her smile and kept her request for more. Zero’s back was scarred in many places and bleeding from a few as the whipping covered her back with 10 harsh strokes.

“Now, turn around and stand at attention, facing me. Hold your right hand out, fully extended, palm up, at waist level, as I switch to the cane for the balance of your ordeal.”

Master took the thin cane and swung it hard against the palm of Zero’s hand. She gasped but did not flinch. Once again, she gave the count, her sincere thanks and a request for another. Again and again, Master struck the palm of Zero’s hand. Although you could see the hand was swollen, Zero did not flinch. Indeed, although she was in tears, she was still smiling. She reached the count of 10, and as commanded, switched to her left hand. She thanked her Master profusely and hoped that he was enjoying her pain.

After 10 slashes on her left hand, both hands were swollen and painful. Master commanded her to lay on her bloody back and hold her right leg straight up, using her swollen hands to support them. “You have requested to have your feet caned. Are you prepared to endure this pain?”

“I beg for the pain that you inflict. I desire nothing more than to endure great pain, to please you and to show my love for you.”

With that Master began the BASTINADO, the caning of the feet. First 10 on the right foot, then 10 on the left. Each foot was left a bloody pulp. It would be a while before she would be able to walk on her feet without pain. But this would be good as each step would remind her of the love she had for her Master and her Master’s love for her. Each blow was counted, each blow was accompanied by a loud and passionate thank you, each blow was followed by a humble plea for another. Finally, both feet were bloody, and Master paused.

“You have received 50 blows. You have requested 100. Are you ready to continue, or do you wish to pause and rest?”

“Gracious Master, this worthless slit wants to finish this test of her devotion as soon as possible so that she can surrender to you the final gift of her virginity.”

“Very well, stand up with your legs spread wide.”

Zero stood up, although just standing was extremely painful as her feet were bloody from the caning. “Now I shall punish the inside of your thighs. 10 strokes on each side. You will not move.”

With that Master began a quick caning of Zero’s inner thighs, moving rapidly from left to right as he took only 2 minutes to strike 20 blows. Zero had but 6 seconds to absorb the blow, count, thank Master graciously and beg for another. This, while standing on feet that had been whipped into bloody stumps. Zero kept the pace. Her thank you’s remained sincere and she still smiled through her tears.

“Thirty more,” Master reminded Zero, after a brief pause, “Are you ready to proceed?”  “I beg you Master, please cane my ass, as hard as you can.”

“Bend over and, keeping your knees apart, place your hands on the floor.” Zero obeyed, and with no further warning master beat her ass as hard as he could. Each blow was separate, Master took his time. He used a little run and perfect timing to generate the maximum force with each blow. Her ass was a bloody mess by the time she reached the count of 10. Once again Zero smiled through her tears and thanked her Master, begging him to continue to inflict pain on her body, for his pleasure.

“Stand up straight and put one hand under each tit. I want you to hold them firmly, so they do not bounce. You will not flinch. You will follow the cane with your eyes and see what I am doing.”

“One,” Zero called out firmly as Master struck the top of her tits. “Thank you, Please Master, I would beg for another.”

“Two” she gasped as Master struck her across her delicate nipples. Master continued to alternate between the body of her tits, delicate in themselves and the aureole and nipples where the pain was overwhelming. Zero saw her tits and nipples bearing the marks and scars of her whipping and was grateful that Master had allowed her to please him so, by bearing so much pain for his pleasure. Finally, these 10 strokes too, came to an end and Zero knew that she had but 10 more strokes to endure for this part of her preparation.

“Spread your legs as wide as you can and touch the floor with your hands. This time I will whip your pussy, so that as I take your virginity, you shall feel only pain, not pleasure. This is how you shall prove that your gift is to please me and not yourself.”

With that, Master struck up at Zero’s pussy hard and fast. He tested her obedience by completing the 10 blows in 30 seconds, making her speed through her count, her thank you’s and her plea for more.  Zero made it through the most severe beating that she had ever received. She was crying. She was in tremendous pain. Still she was thankful and proud that her Master had used her so brutally and thanked her Master for using her pain for his pleasure.

Master said that it was now time for the second part of her ordeal. Her entire body would now be used as a means of pleasing her Master. He asked one of his assistants to lay on his back. He placed Zero on her back, on top of him. He forced her ass onto his hard cock. He then commanded her to spread her legs and arms. “You are now pleasing one Master, when we are finished with this tableau you will be pleasing 7 at the same time. Then you will truly know what it means to be a slave.” He summoned two more of his assistants and placed them next to Zero’s hands. He placed a cock in each hand and commanded her to satisfy each cock. Zero began to gently stroke each cock. “To make this interesting,” Master continued, “I will attach a nipple clamp on each swollen nipple and give the attached chain to the Master whose cock you are stroking. Perhaps if you are sufficiently adept at pleasing them with your hand they may not pull on the chain quite as hard as they can. Then again, maybe they will pull even harder. You are here to give us pleasure and we are honoring you by allowing you to please our cocks and not merely please us by bearing pain for us.” With that he placed the tight nipple clamps on each nipple and gave each chain to the Master, who immediately began pulling, till each tit was pointed at a 45 degree angle.

Then Master asked Mistress White and Mistress Black to station themselves by Zero’s feet.  “If you will be so kind as to allow Zero to attempt to use her feet to satisfy you.” Mistress’ White and Black mounted onto Zero’s feet and Zero tried to wiggle her toes to give them pleasure. Master then attached three clamps to each of Zero’s cunt lips. He then gave the attached chains to Mistresses White and Black, who pulled the chains apart as hard as they could, separating her cunt lips as wide as possible, in preparation for Masters entrance into the virginal cunt.

Zero had a Master’s cock in her ass and one in each hand, she had a Mistress using each of her feet. “Your Mouth will soon be occupied by a Master’s cock, Do you have anything to say?”

“Thank you, Master, for allowing me the privilege of serving you, of bearing pain for your pleasure, for allowing me to be used for your pleasure. Most of all, I thank you for what you are about to take from me. I am honored that you consider my virginity a gift that is worthy of you. I ask you to take it as a mark of my love.”

Master asked another of his assistants to fuck Zero’s mouth and then he, at long last, prepared to enter her virgin cunt. Before he entered, he looked and enjoyed the scene. At her face, one of his assistants was fucking her mouth as brutally hard as possible. On each side of her head, an assistant was pulling on a nipple clamp that was clamped to a very sore and well beaten nipple. Each assistant was having his cock stroked by a gentle hand. On each leg was riding a Mistress, and Zero was doing her best to bring them to climax with her feet. Meanwhile, they were pulling on clamps that were attached to her already sore and well beaten cunt.

Master positioned himself between Zero’s legs and placed his cockhead between her cunt lips. He then slammed into her cunt, breaking the hymen and reaching the back of her pussy in one slam. Not for Zero would be the gentle preparation and tenderness. No, Zero’s initial experience would be as painful as he could make it. He continued to slam in and out of her cunt. He felt the cock of his assistant in her ass, and he felt Zero, begin to stir. Her virgin blood escaped her pussy, and he enjoyed the lubrication. She would lick it all clean when they were all finished. The assistant using her ass began to grow close to his climax as the natural tightness of her ass combined with the feel of Master’s slamming cock next to his, brought him to a climax. Next came the assistant who was fucking her mouth. Zero was a talented and well trained cocksucker and quickly swallowed all the sperm that the Master graciously deposited in her mouth and throat.

Zero was then able to concentrate on her hands and feet. She did her best to be gentle with her hands, but as the Masters grew harder and their breathing grew unsteady, she gradually increased the strength of her grip and the pace of her strokes until she brought both to climax as each shot his load on her tits. The Mistresses were more difficult as she had never used her feet for sexual purposes before. She was lucky as both Mistresses had a soft spot for Zero and as they looked at her bloody feet trying to wiggle in their cunts and massage their clits, they took control by masturbating on her foot. They rubbed their clits over her feet until they, too, came with a gasp.

That left Master alone, slamming in and out of Zero’s cunt. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Zero gasped. “Thank you for accepting and taking my virginity, thank you for allowing me to please you with my pain, thank you for allowing me to please you with my body. I am truly yours.” With that, Master could hold back no longer and he came long, hard and copiously, deep and hard in Zero’s cunt, which, instinctively, tightened its grip around Masters cock.

When Master was completely drained, he sat down and ordered Zero to clean the blood from his cock and balls with her tongue and mouth. Zero hastened to obey, Master let her know how pleased he was with her. She had passed her final exams. She was no longer a SLIT, a slave in training. She had graduated. She was now a full slave. As a slave she would be given a name. Master consulted with Mistress Black and Mistress White as well as all of his assistants, each of whom congratulated her on this momentous occasion, her promotion to full slave status. Master smiled at her and said the name we have chosen for you reflects a turning point in your training as well as the events of today. We have named you “BLOODY CUNT”.

The new slave went to her knees and her tears turned to joy. “BLOODY CUNT, what a beautiful name.